At Jake and Martin's

"At Jake and Martin's" by Sarah Orne Jewett is a poignant short story that explores the intricate dynamics of friendship, community, and the passage of time in a small New England town. Through rich descriptions and vivid character interactions, Jewett captures the essence of rural life and the deep bonds formed among its inhabitants. The narrative reflects on the simple yet profound moments shared among friends and reveals how these connections shape their lives. With a focus on the beauty of everyday experiences, the story resonates with themes of nostalgia and the enduring nature of human relationships.

• Short story

								
In the mean time, the evening had been much enjoyed by the brothers
who were spending it together in Martin Dyer's kitchen. The houses
stood side by side, but Mr. Jacob Dyer's youngest daughter, the only
one now left at home, was receiving a visit from her lover, or, as the
family expressed it, the young man who was keeping company with her,
and her father, mindful of his own youth, had kindly withdrawn.
Martin's children were already established in homes of their own, with
the exception of one daughter who was at work in one of the cotton
factories at Lowell in company with several of her acquaintances. It
has already been said that Jake and Martin liked nobody's company so
well as their own. Their wives had a time-honored joke about being
comparatively unnecessary to their respective partners, and indeed the
two men had a curiously dependent feeling toward each other. It was
the close sympathy which twins sometimes have each to each, and had
become a byword among all their acquaintances. They were seldom
individualized in any way, and neither was able to distinguish
himself, apparently, for one always heard of the family as Jake and
Martin's folks, and of their possessions, from least to greatest, as
belonging to both brothers. The only time they had ever been separated
was once in their early youth, when Jake had been fired with a desire
to go to sea; but he deserted the coastwise schooner in the first port
and came home, because he could not bear it any longer without his
brother. Martin had no turn for seafaring, so Jake remained ashore and
patiently made a farmer of himself for love's sake, and in spite of a
great thirst for adventure that had never ceased to fever his blood.
It was astonishing how much they found to say to each other when one
considers that their experiences were almost constantly the same; but
nothing contented them better than an uninterrupted evening spent in
each other's society, and as they hoed corn or dug potatoes, or mowed,
or as they drove to the Corners, sitting stiffly upright in the
old-fashioned thorough-braced wagon, they were always to be seen
talking as if it were the first meeting after a long separation. But,
having taken these quiet times for the discussion of all possible and
impossible problems, they were men of fixed opinions, and were ready
at a moment's warning to render exact decisions. They were not fond of
society as a rule; they found little occasion for much talk with their
neighbors, but used as few words as possible. Nobody was more
respected than the brothers. It was often said of them that their word
was their bond, and as they passed from youth to middle age, and in
these days were growing to look like elderly men, they were free from
shame or reproach, though not from much good-natured joking and
friendly fun. Their farm had been owned in the family since the
settlement of the country, and the house which Martin occupied was
very old. Jake's had been built for him when he was married, from
timber cut in their own woodlands, and after thirty years of wear it
looked scarcely newer than its companion. And when it is explained
that they had married sisters, because, as people said, they even went
courting together, it will be easy to see that they had found life
more harmonious than most people do. Sometimes the wife of one brother
would complain that her sister enjoyed undue advantages and profits
from the estate, but there was rarely any disagreement, and Mrs. Jake
was mistress of the turkeys and Mrs. Martin held sway over the hens,
while they divided the spoils amiably at Thanksgiving time when the
geese were sold. If it were a bad year for turkeys, and the tender
young were chilled in the wet grass, while the hens flourished
steadily the season through, Mrs. Jake's spirits drooped and she
became envious of the good fortune which flaunted itself before her
eyes, but on the whole, they suffered and enjoyed together, and found
no fault with their destinies. The two wives, though the affection
between them was of an ordinary sort, were apt to form a league
against the brothers, and this prevented a more troublesome rivalry
which might have existed between the households.

Jake and Martin were particularly enjoying the evening. Some accident
had befallen the cooking-stove, which the brothers had never more than
half approved, it being one of the early patterns, and a poor exchange
for the ancient methods of cookery in the wide fireplace. "The women"
had had a natural desire to be equal with their neighbors, and knew
better than their husbands did the difference this useful invention
had made in their every-day work. However, this one night the
conservative brothers could take a mild revenge; and when their wives
were well on their way to Mrs. Thacher's they had assured each other
that, if the plaguey thing were to be carried to the Corners in the
morning to be exchanged or repaired, it would be as well to have it in
readiness, and had quickly taken down its pipes and lifted it as if it
were a feather to the neighboring woodshed. Then they hastily pried
away a fireboard which closed the great fireplace, and looked
smilingly upon the crane and its pothooks and the familiar iron dogs
which had been imprisoned there in darkness for many months. They
brought in the materials for an old-fashioned fire, backlog,
forestick, and crowsticks, and presently seated themselves before a
crackling blaze. Martin brought a tall, brown pitcher of cider from
the cellar and set two mugs beside it on the small table, and for some
little time they enjoyed themselves in silence, after which Jake
remarked that he didn't know but they'd got full enough of a fire for
such a mild night, but he wished his own stove and the new one too
could be dropped into the river for good and all.

They put the jug of cider between the andirons, and then, moved by a
common impulse, drew their chairs a little farther from the mounting
flames, before they quenched their thirst from the mugs.

"I call that pretty cider," said Martin; "'tis young yet, but it has
got some weight a'ready, and 'tis smooth. There's a sight o'
difference between good upland fruit and the sposhy apples that grows
in wet ground. An' I take it that the bar'l has an influence: some
bar'ls kind of wilt cider and some smarten it up, and keep it hearty.
Lord! what stuff some folks are willin' to set before ye! 'tain't wuth
the name o' cider, nor no better than the rensin's of a vinegar cask."

"And then there's weather too," agreed Mr. Jacob Dyer, "had ought to
be took into consideration. Git your apples just in the right
time--not too early to taste o' the tree, nor too late to taste o' the
ground, and just in the snap o' time as to ripeness', on a good sharp
day with the sun a-shining; have 'em into the press and what comes out
is cider. I think if we've had any fault in years past, 't was
puttin' off makin' a little too late. But I don't see as this could be

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