Mrs. Prindle

I am continuing to work on the Austin/Leavenworth book. At this time it is 600 pages long.

Here are a couple of poems and a newspaper article I though you might enjoy reading.

The Austin’s loved poetry and copied numerous poems, usually poems others wrote, but Great Grandma Mary Eldred Austin, her daughter Emma, and son Lon wrote a few poems of their own. I couldn’t find any reference to Mrs. Prindle on the internet, and I think perhaps Emma Austin may have written it. I did find the author of “I Locked it in”. The last piece is a newspaper article from Great Grandma’s Scrapbook that I typed up. Thank you to cousin Melva for loaning me Great Grandma’s Scrapbook.

Mrs. Prindle’s Soliloquy
It kind-o-seems to me tonight
While darning these stockings by candlelight
That I ain’t quite the woman I used to be,
Since I let old Prindle marry me,
Because I was so much afraid
Of living, and dying an old maid.

I always used to dress so neat;
My hair was smooth, my temper sweet,
I have learned to be cold, seldom brush my hair,
And don’t care a pin about what I wear.
And wonder that ever I was afraid
Of living, or dying an old, old maid.

How loudly that Prindle to snore contrives
Was man ever before so great alive?
It really, sometimes appears to me
He means to be hateful as he can be.
But then, I no longer need be afraid
Of living, or dying an old, old maid.

He smokes and chews and has many a trick
Disgusting enough to make one sick.
And it used to me, and among the rest,
He dotes on onions, which Idelest.
But perhaps, that’s better than being afraid
Of living or dying an old, old maid.

And then the young one, such graceless imps,
Tom squints, Jack stutters, and Enoch limps.
On two club feet, they fight and swear
Throw dirt, tell lies, and their trousers tear.
Oh no! I shall never more be afraid
Of living, or dying an old, old maid.

Perhaps if I’d married some other man
My life in a different course had ran
But what could I do when my other beaux
All wailed and wailed and didn’t propose.
And I was getting so much afraid
Of living and dying and old, old maid.

Sister Sally is forty-five,
And just the happiest soul alive
With no stupid husband to annoy and perplex,
Or quarrelsome children to harass and vex
But Sally was never one bit afraid
Of living, or dying an old, old maid.

How she kids me! But it makes me mad,
For well I remember how grieved and sad
She was when she told me that all my life
I’d repent if I did become Prindle’s wife
And I told her I was more afraid
Of living like her, an old, old maid.
The End

I Locked It In
by George H. Westfield
I took my grief and I locked it in.
And bolted and barred the door,
And told myself it had never been,
And never should be no more.

“For life goes on and must go the same,
For Months,” I said, “and for years.”
A man and weak, it were scorn and shame,
“Let woman give way to tears.”

But lo! in the night I heard a sound.
I woke with a start and cry.
My grief stood there, with its withes unbound,
and looked with its awful eye.
It took my hand, with an icy chill,
And said, with a mock and jeer:
“Your bolts were strong, but I haunt you still.
You thrust me out: I am here.”

I seek the crowd; but it follows there—
I cannot drive it away.
The forest wild; it is in the air,
It gnaws at my heart all day.
And at midnight it comes—the ghost!
And it mocks beside my bed.
Oh! hopeless moan for the loved and lost.
Oh! hearts that break for your dead.

Street-Car Etiquette
A few hints, boiled down, the observance of which will tend to promote the comfort and welfare of that large class of fellow-sufferers who are obliged to spend from thirty minutes to two hours of each day in those necessary evils called street-cars.

Gentle hint No. 1 and of importance first:
Always chew tobacco when riding. If you have not acquired that most elegant habit, do so at once, or you will thereby lose one of the best opportunities of showing your independence and utter disregard of the decencies of life, and of your neighbors’ clothes.

No. 2 Never give up your seat to anyone, especially to ladies, thereby showing that you were brought up with a proper regard of your own importance and comfort. Should you have a weakness in that respect, however, and should you wish to give up your seat to a lady, be particular that she is young, good-looking and well dressed, and always select the time when some poor washer-woman or tired shop-girl has been hanging on the strap in front of you for half an hour or more. you will thus show that you have a proper regard for what is due to the different classes in society.

No. 3 When standing, always take the first seat vacated. Never mind the ladies; they can do the same. You know your rights; take them. Sit down like a man, and if you have a paper become immediately absorbed. Take no notice of any little mean remarks that may be made by those around you—you might get kicked out of the car if you did.

No. 4 Should a good-looking girl be seated anywhere near you, that is alone, (Be particular about that,) stare at her—they like it—and it may lead to—personals in the Herald, which object and end should be your highest ambition.

One Response to “Mrs. Prindle”

  1. Daniel Smith Says:

    Wow… that first one is pretty depressing…

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