He receives a letter one day from his Uncle Howard in Nebraska; it informs him that his Aunt Georgiana will be arriving in the city to take care of some business matters. The situation reawakens long-forgotten memories for Clark.
This communication, worn and rubbed, looking as though it had been carried for some days in a coat-pocket that was none too clean, was from my Uncle Howard. It informed me that his wife had been left a small legacy by a bachelor relative who had recently died, and that it had become necessary for her to come to Boston to attend to the settling of the estate.
He requested me to meet her at the station, and render her whatever services might prove necessary. On examining the date indicated as that of her arrival, I found it no later than to-morrow.
He had characteristically delayed writing until, had I been away from home for a day, I must have missed the good woman altogether. The name of my Aunt Georgiana called up not alone her own figure, at once pathetic and grotesque, but opened before my feet a gulf of recollections so wide and deep that, as the letter dropped from my hand, I felt suddenly a stranger to all the present conditions of my existence, wholly ill at ease and out of place amid the surroundings of my study.
I became, in short, the gangling farmer-boy my aunt had known, scourged with chilblains and bashfulness, my hands cracked and raw from the corn husking. I felt the knuckles of my thumb tentatively, as though they were raw again. I sat again before her parlor organ, thumbing the scales with my stiff, red hands, while she beside me made canvas mittens for the huskers.
The next morning, after preparing my landlady somewhat, I set out for the station.
When the train arrived I had some difficulty in finding my aunt. She had come all the way in a day coach; her linen duster had become black with soot and her black bonnet gray with dust during the journey.
When we arrived at my boarding-house the landlady put her to bed at once, and I did not see her again until the next morning.
Springer experienced at my aunt's appearance she considerately concealed. Myself, I saw my aunt's misshapened figure with that feeling of awe and respect with which we behold explorers who have left their ears and fingers north of Franz Josef Land, or their health somewhere along the Upper Congo.
My Aunt Georgiana had been a music-teacher at the Boston Conservatory, somewhere back in the latter sixties. One summer, which she had spent in the little village in the Green Mountains where her ancestors had dwelt for generations, she had kindled the callow fancy of the most idle and shiftless of all the village lads, and had conceived for this Howard Carpenter one of those absurd and extravagant passions which a handsome country boy of twenty-one sometimes inspires in a plain, angular, spectacled woman of thirty.
When she returned to her duties in Boston, Howard followed her; and the upshot of this inexplicable infatuation was that she eloped with him, eluding the reproaches of her family and the criticism of her friends by going with him to the Nebraska frontier.
Carpenter, who of course had no money, took a homestead in Red Willow County, fifty miles from the railroad. There they measured off their eighty acres by driving across the prairie in a wagon, to the wheel of which they had tied a red cotton handkerchief, and counting off its revolutions.
They built a dugout in the red hillside, one of those cave dwellings whose inmates usually reverted to the conditions of primitive savagery. Their water they got from the lagoons where the buffalo drank, and their slender stock of provisions was always at the mercy of bands of roving Indians.
For thirty years my aunt had not been farther than fifty miles from the homestead. Springer knew nothing of all this, and must have been considerably shocked at what was left of my kinswoman.In ''A Wagner Matinee,'' author Willa Cather details the journey of a once-cultured woman who has been beaten down by frontier life.
As she returns to Boston, she is a shell of the woman she used. A Wagner Matinee by Willa Cather. A Wagner Matinee was first published in Scribner's Magazine in , before publication in Cather's collection, The Troll Garden in "When the horns drew out the first strain of the Pilgrim's chorus my Aunt Georgiana clutched my coat sleeve.
A Wagner Matinee Questions and Answers - Discover the r-bridal.com community of teachers, mentors and students just like you that can answer any question you might have on A Wagner Matinee.
Free Download Wagner Matinee Answer For Book PDF Keywords Free DownloadWagner Matinee Answer For Book PDF, read, reading book, free, download, book, ebook, books, ebooks, manual.
This lesson contains a complete guided reading worksheet with 47 questions (answer key included) for A Wagner Matinee by Willa Cather. This is a very thorough, very complete lesson. It should take about minutes for students to complete this lesson (depending on the student)/5(13).
A Wagner Matinee Homework Help Questions In "Wagner's Matinee" by Willa Cather, Aunt Georgiana and Clark attend a symphony of Wagner's “Wagner’s .