Carefully unfolding the stiff old parchment or pigskin deed, yellowed and brown spotted with age, Mary could faintly decipher the writing wherein, beautifully written, old-fashioned penmanship of two hundred years ago stated that a certain piece of land in Bucks County, Beginning at a Chestnut Oak, North to a post; then East to a large rock, and on the South unsettled land, which in later years was conveyed to John Landis.

“This deed,” said Mary’s Aunt, “was given in 1738, nearly two hundred years ago, by John, Thomas and Richard Penn, sons of William Penn by his second marriage, which occurred in America.  His eldest son, John Penn, you have no doubt heard, was called ‘The American,’ he having been born in this country before William Penn’s return to Europe, where he remained fifteen years, as you’ve no doubt heard.”

At the bottom of the deed a blue ribbon has been slipped through cuts in the parchment, forming a diamond which incloses what is supposed to be the signature of Thomas Penn.

“Aunt Sarah, I am not surprised that you value this old deed of the farm and these ‘Taufschiens’ of your grandmother I should frame them, so they may be preserved by future generations.”

CHAPTER XXIV.

THE OLD STORE ON THE RIDGE ROAD.

Aunt Sarah found in Mary a willing listener when talking of the time in years past when her grandfather kept a small “Country Store” on the Ridge Road in Bucks County.  She also remembered, when a child of ten, accompanying her grandfather on one of his trips when he drove to Philadelphia to purchase goods for his store.

“They had no trolley cars in those days?” asked Mary.

“No, my dear, neither did they have steam cars between the different towns and cities as we have now.”

“At grandfather’s store could be bought both groceries and dry goods.  The surrounding farmers’ wives brought to the store weekly fresh print butter, eggs, pot cheese and hand-case, crocks of apple-butter, dried sweet corn, beans, cherries, peach and apple ‘Snitz,’ taking in exchange sugar, starch, coffee, molasses, etc.  My father tapped his sugar maples and mother cooked down the syrup until thick, and we used that in place of molasses.  They also took in exchange shaker flannel, nankeen, indigo blue and ‘Simpson’ gray calico, which mother considered superior to any other, both for its washing and wearing qualities.  The farmers who came occasionally to the store to shop for different members of the family frequently bought whole pieces of calico of one pattern, and,” affirmed Aunt Sarah, “I knew of one farmer who bought several whole pieces of one pattern with rather large figures on a dark wine ground, resembling somewhat the gay figures on an old paisley shawl.  He said ’twas a good, serviceable color, and more economical to buy it all alike, and remarked:  ’What’s the difference, anyway?  Calico is calico.’  From the same piece of calico his wife made dresses, aprons and sunbonnets for herself and daughters, shirts for the farmer and his sons (the boys were young, fortunately), and patchwork quilts and comfortables from the remainder.”