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Updated: June 9, 2025
Does she, now? Tut tut tut! But we needn't think harm, Mrs. Butterfield though you can tell from her face she'll need a good deal of looking after. And does she come regular, now? The old woman confessed that she only knew of two meetings, with a very long interval, but she hinted that the first had taken place under circumstances very suspicious; in fact, that it was obviously an appointment.
Butterfield was dead, and her niece Lyddy Ann living in the cottage on the river road. There were numbers of people who had not yet heard that old Mrs.
He rose at the usual time, but with a word at his mother's door made known his intention not to go out till after breakfast. Having lit a fire in the parlour, he sat down and tried to read. He had purposed working till Saturday. Butterfield.
Then turning to Perry; "Butterfield is staying with us for a few days." "I got a little mixed up," mumbled Perry. "I'm very sorry." "Perfectly all right; most natural mistake in the world. I've got a clown rig and I'm going down there myself after a while." He turned to Butterfield. "Better change your mind and come down with us." The young man demurred. He was going to bed.
I come pretty nigh it myself, though I ain't no relation, when Elder Weeks said, 'You'll go round the house, my sisters, and Mis' Butterfield won't be there; you'll go int' the orchard, and Mis' Butterfield won't be there; you'll go int' the barn, and Mis' Butterfield won't be there; you'll go int' the shed, and Mis' Butterfield wont be there; you'll go int' the hencoop, and Mis' Butterfield won't be there! That would 'a' draw'd tears from a stone, 'most, 'specially sence Mis' Butterfield set such store by her hens."
O waiting heart of God! how soon would thy kingdom come if we all did our allotted tasks, humble or splendid, in this consecrated fashion! "Therein I hear the Parcae reel The threads of man at their humming wheel, The threads of life and power and pain, So sweet and mournful falls the strain." Emerson's Harp. Old Mrs. Butterfield had had her third stroke of paralysis, and died of a Sunday night.
Isaac Butterfield, born near Leeds in 1781, weighed 100 pounds in 1782 and was 3 feet 13 inches tall. There was a child named Everitt, exhibited in London in 1780, who at eleven months was 3 feet 9 inches tall and measured around the loins over 3 feet. He was 5 feet 6 inches tall. Her manners were infantile and her intellectual development was much retarded.
After I had told him who I was and what would be my business, he insisted on my staying over night with him when convenient, saying that it would not cost me a cent. Thanking him for his hospitable offer, we rode on, keeping the Butterfield route. Late that afternoon we met a train of sixteen wagons on the way to California.
From Captain Hezekiah Butterfield, generally known as Cap'n 'Kiah, an octogenarian who was regarded as an oracle, down to Tready Morgan, a half-witted orphan, the inmates of the poor-house had an enjoyment of living astonishing to behold.
Among them were Stephen A. Douglas, Lyman Trumbull, afterward for a long while chairman of the Judiciary Committee of the national Senate, David Davis, afterward a senator, and an associate justice of the Supreme Court of the United States; O.H. Browning, Ninian W. Edwards, Edward D. Baker, Justin Butterfield, Judge Logan, and more.
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