Maw's Vacation: The Story of a Human Being in the Yellowstone

Times has changed, says Maw to herself, says she. Things ain\'t like what they used to be. Time was when I worked from sunup to sundown, and we didn\'t have no daylight-saving contraptions on the old clock, neither. The girls was too little then, and I done all the work myself—cooking, sweeping, washing and ironing, suchlike. I never got to church Sundays because I had to stay home and get the Sunday dinner. Like enough they\'d bring the preacher home to dinner. You got to watch chicken—it won\'t cook itself. Weekdays was one like another, and except for shoveling snow and carrying more coal I never knew when summer quit and winter come. There was no movies them days—a theater might come twice a winter, or sometimes a temperance lecturer that showed a picture of the inside of a drunkard\'s stomach, all redlike and awful. We didn\'t have much other entertainment. Of course we had church sociables now and then, or a surprise party on someone. Either way, the fun no more than paid for the extra cooking. I never seen nothing or went nowhere, and if when I was down town after the groceries I\'d \'a\' stepped into the drug store and bought me a lemonade—and they didn\'t have no nut sundaes then—they\'d of had me up before the church for frivolous conduct.