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    A Gathering of Days: A New England Girl's Journal, 1830-1832
    A Gathering of Days: A New England Girl's Journal, 1830-1832
    A Gathering of Days: A New England Girl's Journal, 1830-1832
    Ebook130 pages2 hours

    A Gathering of Days: A New England Girl's Journal, 1830-1832

    By Joan W. Blos

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    About this ebook

    I, Catherine Cabot Hall, aged 13 years, 6 months, 29 days…do begin this book.

    So begins the journal of a girl coming of age in nineteenth-century New Hampshire. Catherine records both the hardships of pioneer life and its many triumphs. Even as she struggles with her mother’s death and father’s eventual remarriage, Catherine’s indomitable spirit makes this saga an oftentimes uplifting and joyous one.

    Quiet yet powerful, this Newbery Medal–winning book is sure to touch all who read it.
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherAtheneum Books for Young Readers
    Release dateMay 14, 2013
    ISBN9781442496699

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    Reviews for A Gathering of Days

    4/5

    14 ratings9 reviews

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    • 5/5
      What a fun book to read with my junior high daughter! It was fun to discuss what she has in common with Cassie and what she does not. Great conversations!
    • 4/5
      Understated and affecting story of a young girl in New England, and the two years during which she went from being a heedless girl to being nearly a woman grown. Historical detail is rich in this book.
    • 4/5
      It is just what my weary spirit needed. This is a simple tale told from the perspective of 13 year old Catherine Hall, set in pioneer days of New Hampshire during the dates of 1830-1832. With a feel similar to the books of Laura Ingalls Wilder, this book has a lyrical rolling quality while depicting the joys and hardships of pioneer days.It harkens back to a time when children respected teachers and parents, when everyone shared responsibility of maintaining components of survival and when what would now be considered simple pleasures, held so much meaning then.Here is a snipet:"Teacher Orpha sometimes permits the conduct of school out of doors. On these days we convene near the tree, the littlest ones gathering close to her, and some times, even, one of the babes will lay his head in her lap "Poor little thing," she'll say with a smile. Or maybe, "Pretty dreamer!"Then does the droning of our voices rival that of the somnolent bees while off to one side, the more wakeful infants intone their little verses, and their abc's."Recommended for a fall day when the air is crisp and the frost is on the pumpkin.
    • 5/5
      A very interesting slice-of-life look at New England in the 1830s. Even though it was written in the 1970s, it is pretty historically accurate (to my untutored mind at least) – dealing with distances, snow, and the isolation of a community in New Hampshire. The characters are believable, and the story is wonderfully understated. While there are major events in this book, they happen in and among normal and small events – just like real life. The book covers somewhat less than two years, and you are left wanting to know more about this girl’s life after the diary ends. (pannarrens)
    • 5/5
      The story of Catherine Hall, a young New Hampshire girl in the 1830s, is told through her diary entries. Catherine's mother died several years before the diary begins. Catherine and her younger sister, Matty, live with their father on his farm. Their closest neighbors, the Shipmans, are a source of support. Mrs. Shipman advises Catherine about housekeeping matters, and Mr. Shipman and the Shipman boys assist Catherine's father with his farming work after their own is done. Cassie Shipman is Catherine's best friend. They often do their chores together, and they walk to school together when it's in session.Catherine's diary chronicles many changes in her life over an 18-month period. The school teacher stirs up controversy by reading from Boston abolitionist newspapers during class time. For Catherine, the question of slavery isn't abstract when she encounters a mysterious stranger, probably a runaway slave, who asks for her help. After several years as a widower, Catherine's father decides to remarry, and Catherine must adjust to a new stepmother, stepbrother, and a new position within the household. In their early teens, Catherine and her friends are on the brink of womanhood. Catherine faces the loss of two childhood companions, one to death, the other to the mills in Lowell, Massachusetts.Catherine led a much different life than modern teenagers. Farm families like Catherine's had to work hard year-round to make sure they had adequate clothing, household goods, and food to last through the bitterly cold winters. She writes in her diary of visits from peddlers and weavers, of picking berries, of trips to Boston to sell farm products and to purchase supplies, and of community events like the opening of the roads after the winters snows and of maple sugaring in the spring. While Catherine's daily activities were very different from the modern teenager's, she faced many of the same issues, like adjusting to a blended family and dealing with the loss of friends. I can't think of a more enjoyable way to learn about daily life in a different century. Highly recommended.
    • 4/5
      This was a look into the life of a girl living in New England in the early 1800's. Written as a journal, the story tells of Catherine's life the year her father remarried, her best friend died, and she helped a run-away slave escape to Canada. It was an enjoyable read, but didn't really capture my imagination. Still, a well-written historical novel.
    • 4/5
      Written in the form of a journal, this book is the story of a year in the life of a fourteen year old girl living in New England in the early 1830’s. During the year, Catherine helps a runaway slave, loses her best friend, sees her widowed father remarry, and leaves her farm forever. There is something about a book written as a journal that draws the reader close to the characters. I had just started this book when a fifth grader came into the library and asked if I could find her a book like A Gathering of Days. She loved it and wanted to read more books like it.
    • 4/5
      Pleasant and enjoyable - never got taken out of the story by awkward phrasing, unbelievable events, or confusing storytelling - but not lingering. I appreciated the thoughts on moral education, reflecting on how differently children are raised today (and tending to prefer the stricter times!). I enjoyed the time spent reading this book, but I am not sure it will stay with me.
    • 4/5
      This one's just another historical novel about a farm girl. This time the era is the 1830s and the setting is New Hampshire. Catherine is a 13 year old girl, living with her widowed father and younger sister. There's nothing that stands out about the book, save that Catherine's not overly spunky. But that doesn't make it bad. It's a nice, easy read that gives a taste of life as it was in rural New England.--J.

    Book preview

    A Gathering of Days - Joan W. Blos

    I

    Sunday, October 17, 1830

    I, Catherine Cabot Hall, aged 13 years, 6 months, 29 days, of Meredith in the State of New-Hampshire, do begin this book.

    It was given to me yesterday, my father returning from Boston, Massachusetts, where he had gone to obtain provisions for the months ahead.

    My father’s name is Charles: Charles Hall. I am daughter also of Hannah Cabot Hall, dead of a fever these four long years; and older sister to Mary Martha whose dark, curling hair resembles our mother’s, but I have our mother’s blue eyes.

    My dearest friend is Cassie. The Shipmans’ farm lies South of ours, and is rather larger. Cassie is older than I by a year, but the same in height. We tell each other every thing; and each of us in the other’s dear heart finds secret dreams reflected. Cassie’s brothers are: David Horatio, older by a full two years; Asa Hale, my age exactly; and William Mason, the youngest. He is but a baby and called by every one Willie.

    This day being the Sabbath we attended services both morning and afternoon.

    Tuesday, October 19, 1830

    This be the precept the teacher set out today:

     . . . let thy words be plain and true to the thoughts of thy heart.

    These be the thoughts of my heart: that I may remain here for ever and ever; here in this house which my father has built with the labour of his two hands;

    that no harm come to those I love: Father and my sister, Matty; Cassie, and the Shipman family; and Father’s brother, our Uncle Jack, who mills when he needs money, and never took a wife;

    also that I may train myself to want to do what I am asked to do;

    last, and most bitter of all to confess, I wish that my hair were curly, as Matty’s is, and our mother’s.

    Thursday, October 21, 1830

    Teacher Holt commended me for writing with a finer hand than I have displayed before. Still must my capitals be improved, achieving a better flourish.

    This night Father told us a story after the supper hour. A man had lost four hogs in the woods and went there to retrieve them. Before he had gone very far on his way a headless woman rose up before him—spectral, and blocking the path. As might be expected he fled the spot. But thinking on it when he woke to the morrow, and still much the poorer for the loss of the hogs, he ventured back again. There he discovered that his apparition was naught but the rooty tangle of a fallen tree! Animals had gnawed some portions away, thus suggesting the shapes and the shading, and the woman’s arms, as he had supposed, were but a pair of larger roots, bent at an equal angle.

    The lesson, as Father put it to us, is that intelligence must prevail for had the fellow not returned he’d have suffered all his days, victim to an ignorant fear—no better than the meanest man, or least instructed child.

    Friday, October 22, 1830

    We had a visitor today but nearly failed to admit him. No callers, surely, were expected. And peddlars, tinkers, and the like will not come by till Spring. Thus we ignored the rattling latch—at times the wind will mislead us so—until a voice called out.

    It proved to be our Uncle Jack and tho’ he protested he was just passing by, I thought he meant to visit. He brought some store sweets, wrapped in paper, and consented to have some cyder.

    Tuesday, October 26, 1830

    Winter is coming on! There was ice across the trough this morning, and frost on the upper meadow.

    Uncle Jack to visit again. Father could scarce believe ’twas so, but Uncle Jack had read in the paper where a Mr. Sam’l Newell had raised a white potato to better than 24 inches, taken in girth around! But here comes our uncle with the paper itself, and printed just as he told it. Then nothing would do but down to the cellar to hunt and search for the largest of ours, and carry it up for measure, amidst much speculation.

    When I could wait the supper no longer, having earlier raised the pot from the fire but still was scorching threatened, I ventured to invite our guest and soon set out a pleasant meal, Uncle Jack joining gladly.

    Later Father praised me direct, saying that I was a pride and a comfort, and added directly after that, There’s many a full grown woman here would not do as well. I shall not forget his words and am resolved that for all my days I shall assay such tasks and virtues as may sustain his comfort and increase his pride.

    Monday, November 1, 1830

    Only three more weeks remain until Thanksgiving Day! I must attach my new lace collar to my Sabbath dress. Also, it being snug for me, I must take up the patterned frock which I have given to Matty. She can use it nicely, I think, together with her new knit stockings and the red Morocco boots that were mine once also.

    Cassie and I and Mrs. Shipman have already begun the preparations for the Thanksgiving meal. The cakes we make first are those that keep best in the cellar’s cool. Last week we turned out some gingerbread; today we made a Yankee Cake and a firm Plum Pudding. Mrs. Shipman’s sister in Salem had sent a new receipt for this, but as we had no currants here we had to do without.

    Thursday, November 4, 1830

    Returning home from school this day I had a dreadful fright! Clearly I saw presented to me the dark silhouette of a lanky man, his coat all tattered against the sky, his bony hand above his eye as if to give it shade.

    Although I quickly pointed him out, so swiftly did he vanish away that nothing remained when Cassie and Asa obeyed my pointing finger. Then, stumble-tongue’d, I must explain what I had wished them to see.

    Asa remembered the story I told her of a headless woman and that story’s teaching. From this he determined that nothing would do unless we followed after. Cassie, ever more prudent, demurred; therefore must I, as the third of the party, cast the deciding ballot. As it was coming on to dark, and I still had our supper to set, I announced with Cassie. Asa, at this, scowled ruefully. But soon thereafter we all joined hands, & in most perfect companionship resumed the homeward journey.

    Friday, November 5, 1830

    Along the road and in the fields is neither green nor white of snow; all is sere and brown. How much farther one can see, now that the leaves are gone! Only the faithful evergreens guard the margins of our fields and keep the forest secrets.

    Look, Cath, Matty calls to me, her small face muffle’d and cold. My breath is frosting like Babe and Nelly’s! Then she lows, as oxen will, till I am quite ashamed.

    Saturday, November 6, 1830

    Mrs. Shipman called on Father. The purpose was to present to him that her sister will visit from Salem. Now she called her the unmarried one and said she would stay a while. Of this he assured her he was glad, and hoped they both would enjoy renewal of old and sisterly ties.

    There being nothing further to say, they spoke of other matters. He will build the cupboard she needs. She, exchanging service for service, agrees to provide continued instruction in the diverse household arts to myself and Matty.  ’Tis hard, she sighed, the loss of a mother, and her gentle guidance.

    We do all right, I heard him say. Now I’ve no wish to offend you, Em. But we do all right, he repeated.

    November 7, 1830. The Sabbath Day.

    Uncle Jack, and we three also, visited with the Shipmans after morning service. Mr. Shipman and Father remarked how frequent are the instances of bound boys run away. When they were lads, or so they say, it was much less common. Now each week’s Courier displays a greater, and more petulant, number of master’s advertisements. Will no longer be responsible for, any having knowledge of, the subscriber wishes to state . . .

    And what would you do, our Uncle Jack asks, were such a fellow hereabouts, and known, by chance, to you?

    Turn him out and turn him in, is Father’s prompt reply.

    But Charlie, Uncle Jack pursues, supposing the boy were right to run off—

    "He couldn’t be that, to my way of thinking; bound being bound to stay. Besides, I’d not want to intermeddle—no, you’d have to do it, and do it clean; send the vagrant, whatever his claim, back where he belonged."

    Father believes, as he’s often said, that man’s intelligence is given to him that he may distinguish right from wrong, and knowing right, may do so. Some think him too severe in this. It is not that, but honour.

    II

    Wednesday, November 10, 1830

    I

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