A Patent Medicine Testimonial

"A Patent Medicine Testimonial" by Lucy Maud Montgomery is a charming short story that explores themes of nostalgia, advertisement, and the complexities of human relationships. Set in a small Canadian community, the narrative follows the main character, who pens a heartfelt testimonial for a dubious patent medicine. Through her experiences and interactions, Montgomery humorously critiques the sensationalism of advertising while highlighting the longing for connection and understanding. The story captures the essence of early 20th-century life and reflects Montgomery's signature style of blending humor with poignant social commentary.

• Short story

								
"You might as well try to move the rock of Gibraltar as attempt to
change Uncle Abimelech's mind when it is once made up," said Murray
gloomily.

Murray is like dear old Dad; he gets discouraged rather easily. Now,
I'm not like that; I'm more like Mother's folks. As Uncle Abimelech
has never failed to tell me when I have annoyed him, I'm "all Foster."
Uncle Abimelech doesn't like the Fosters. But I'm glad I take after
them. If I had folded my hands and sat down meekly when Uncle
Abimelech made known his good will and pleasure regarding Murray and
me after Father's death, Murray would never have got to college--nor I
either, for that matter. Only I wouldn't have minded that very much. I
just wanted to go to college because Murray did. I couldn't be
separated from him. We were twins and had always been together.

As for Uncle Abimelech's mind, I knew that he never had been known to
change it. But, as he himself was fond of saying, there has to be a
first time for everything, and I had determined that this was to be
the first time for him. I hadn't any idea how I was going to bring it
about; but it just had to be done, and I'm not "all Foster" for
nothing.

I knew I would have to depend on my own thinkers. Murray is clever at
books and dissecting dead things, but he couldn't help me out in this,
even if he hadn't settled beforehand that there was no use in opposing
Uncle Abimelech.

"I'm going up to the garret to think this out, Murray," I said
solemnly. "Don't let anybody disturb me, and if Uncle Abimelech comes
over don't tell him where I am. If I don't come down in time to get
tea, get it yourself. I shall not leave the garret until I have
thought of some way to change Uncle Abimelech's mind."

"Then you'll be a prisoner there for the term of your natural life,
dear sis," said Murray sceptically. "You're a clever girl, Prue--and
you've got enough decision for two--but you'll never get the better of
Uncle Abimelech."

"We'll see," I said resolutely, and up to the garret I went. I shut
the door and bolted it good and fast to make sure. Then I piled some
old cushions in the window seat--for one might as well be comfortable
when one is thinking as not--and went over the whole ground from the
beginning.

Outside the wind was thrashing the broad, leafy top of the maple whose
tallest twigs reached to the funny grey eaves of our old house. One
roly-poly little sparrow blew or flew to the sill and sat there for a
minute, looking at me with knowing eyes. Down below I could see Murray
in a corner of the yard, pottering over a sick duck. He had set its
broken leg and was nursing it back to health. Anyone except Uncle
Abimelech could see that Murray was simply born to be a doctor and
that it was flying in the face of Providence to think of making him
anything else.

From the garret windows I could see all over the farm, for the house
is on the hill end of it. I could see all the dear old fields and the
spring meadow and the beech woods in the southwest corner. And beyond
the orchard were the two grey barns and down below at the right-hand
corner was the garden with all my sweet peas fluttering over the
fences and trellises like a horde of butterflies. It was a dear old
place and both Murray and I loved every stick and stone on it, but
there was no reason why we should go on living there when Murray
didn't like farming. And it wasn't our own, anyhow. It all belonged to
Uncle Abimelech.

Father and Murray and I had always lived here together. Father's
health broke down during his college course. That was one reason why
Uncle Abimelech was set against Murray going to college, although
Murray is as chubby and sturdy a fellow as you could wish to see.
Anybody with Foster in him would be that.

To go back to Father. The doctors told him that his only chance of
recovering his strength was an open-air life, so Father rented one of
Uncle Abimelech's farms and there he lived for the rest of his days.
He did not get strong again until it was too late for college, and he
was a square peg in a round hole all his life, as he used to tell us.
Mother died before we could remember, so Murray and Dad and I were
everything to each other. We were very happy too, although we were
bossed by Uncle Abimelech more or less. But he meant it well and
Father didn't mind.

Then Father died--oh, that was a dreadful time! I hurried over it in
my thinking-out. Of course when Murray and I came to look our position
squarely in the face we found that we were dependent on Uncle
Abimelech for everything, even the roof over our heads. We were
literally as poor as church mice and even poorer, for at least they
get churches rent-free.

Murray's heart was set on going to college and studying medicine. He
asked Uncle Abimelech to lend him enough money to get a start with and
then he could work his own way along and pay back the loan in due
time. Uncle Abimelech is rich, and Murray and I are his nearest
relatives. But he simply wouldn't listen to Murray's plan.

"I put my foot firmly down on such nonsense," he said. "And you know
that when I put my foot down something squashes."

It was not that Uncle Abimelech was miserly or that he grudged us
assistance. Not at all. He was ready to deal generously by us, but it
must be in his own way. His way was this. Murray and I were to stay on
the farm, and when Murray was twenty-one Uncle Abimelech said he would
deed the farm to him--make him a present of it out and out.

"It's a good farm, Murray," he said. "Your father never made more than
a bare living out of it because he wasn't strong enough to work it
properly--that's what he got out of a college course, by the way.
But you are strong enough and ambitious enough to do well."

But Murray couldn't be a farmer, that was all there was to it. I told
Uncle Abimelech so, firmly, and I talked to him for days about it, but
Uncle Abimelech never wavered. He sat and listened to me with a
quizzical smile on that handsome, clean-shaven, ruddy old face of his,
with its cut-granite features. And in the end he said,

"You ought to be the one to go to college if either of you did, Prue.
You would make a capital lawyer, if I believed in the higher education
of women, but I don't. Murray can take or leave the farm as he
chooses. If he prefers the latter alternative, well and good. But he
gets no help from me. You're a foolish little girl, Prue, to back him
up in this nonsense of his."

It makes me angry to be called a little girl when I put up my hair a
year ago, and Uncle Abimelech knows it. I gave up arguing with him. I
knew it was no use anyway.

I thought it all over in the garret. But no way out of the dilemma
could I see. I had eaten up all the apples I had brought with me and I
felt flabby and disconsolate. The sight of Uncle Abimelech stalking up
the lane, as erect and lordly as usual, served to deepen my gloom.

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