large/2093/ghost_stories_005_librivox_64kb_mp3/old_womans_tale_hawthorne_rkw_64kb_75
large/2093/ghost_stories_005_librivox_64kb_mp3/old_womans_tale_hawthorne_rkw_64kb
English
2093
Her ground plots, seldom within the widest scope of probability, were filled up with homely and natural incidents, the gradual accretions of a long course of years, and fiction hid its grotesque extravagance in this garb of truth, like the Devil (an appropriate simile, for the old woman supplies it) disguising himself, cloven foot and all, in mortal attire. HER GROUND PLOTS SELDOM WITHIN THE WIDEST SCOPE OF PROBABILITY WERE FILLED UP WITH HOMELY AND NATURAL INCIDENTS THE GRADUAL ACCRETIONS OF A LONG COURSE OF YEARS AND FICTION HID ITS GROTESQUE EXTRAVAGANCE IN THIS GARB OF TRUTH LIKE THE DEVIL AN APPROPRIATE SIMILE FOR THE OLD WOMAN SUPPLIES IT DISGUISING HIMSELF CLOVEN FOOT AND ALL IN MORTAL ATTIRE
 of her death. She made it her serious business and sole amusement to tell me stories at any time from morning till night, in a mumbling, toothless voice, as I sat on a log of wood, grasping her check-apron in both my hands. Her personal memory included the better part of a hundred years, and she had strangely jumbled her own experience and observation with those of many old people who died in her young days; so that she might have been taken for a contemporary of Queen Elizabeth, or of John Rogers in the Primer. There are a thousand of her traditions lurking in the corners and by-places of my mind, some more marvellous than what is to follow, some less so, and a few not marvellous in the least, all of which I should like to repeat, if I were as happy as she in having a listener. But I am humble enough to own, that I do not deserve a listener half so well as that old toothless woman, whose narratives possessed an excellence attributable neither to herself, nor to any single individual. OASTITCH ON THE DAY OF HER DEATH SHE MADE IT HER SERIOUS BUSINESS AND SOLE AMUSEMENT TO TELL ME STORIES AT ANY TIME FROM MORNING TILL NIGHT IN A MUMBLING TOOTHLESS VOICE AS I SAT ON A LOG OF WOOD GRASPING HER CHEEK APRON WITH BOTH MY HANDS HER PERSONAL MEMORY INCLUDED THE BETTER PART OF A HUNDRED YEARS AND SHE HAD STRANGELY JUMBLED HER OWN EXPERIENCE AND OBSERVATION WITH THOSE OF MANY OLD PEOPLE WHO DIED IN HER YOUNG DAYS SO THAT SHE MIGHT HAVE BEEN TAKEN FOR A CONTEMPORARY OF QUEEN ELIZABETH OR OF JOHN ROGERS IN THE PRIMMER THERE ARE A THOUSAND OF HER TRADITIONS LURKING IN THE CORNERS AND BY PLACES OF MY MIND SOME MORE MARVELLOUS THAN WHAT IS TO FOLLOW SOME LESS SO AND A FEW NOT MARVELLOUS IN THE LEAST ALL OF WHICH I SHOULD LIKE TO REPEAT IF I WERE AS HAPPY AS SHE IN HAVING A LISTENER BUT I AM HUMBLE ENOUGH TO OWN THAT I DO NOT DESERVE A LISTENER HALF SO WELL AS THAT OLD TOOTHLESS WOMAN WHOSE NARRATIVES POSSESS AN EXCELLENCE ATTRIBUTABLE NEITHER TO HERSELF NOR TO ANY SINGLE INDIVIDUAL
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