Ellen lay in her bed, limp with the agony of a headache. It always happened when the supply of coffee ran out. Given a cup of strong, hot coffee, the pain would leave her almost immediately; lacking it, her suffering mounted by the hour until the pain became almost unbearable. Schooled to believe that self-indulgence of any kind was morally unacceptable, Ellen was deeply ashamed of her dependency upon coffee. She tried brewing drinks of roasted grain or roots, but her nervous system was not deceived by a beverage that resembled coffee only in appearance. She tried stretching out her supply by making a very weak drink, but she might as well have drunk nothing; the headaches were prevented only by coffee that was black with strength.Poor, poor Ellen. I understand all too well the "evil hold" that coffee can have on a person. :-) My children probably understand it now, too. I'd always joked that I needed my 2 cups every morning in order to be nice. It's no longer a joke.
In late March of 1862, coffee had reached the unheard of price of seventy cents a pound, and the papers predicted that it would rise even higher. Ellen was appalled at the expense.
"This need fer coffee is an evil hold on me, Matt," she told her husband on the morning after the last of the coffee grounds had been boiled until they were worthless. "I'm goin' to suffer it out. I don't want you to bring ary drop of it to me even if you git hold of some; my body's jest got to learn." She closed her eyes as the beginning pangs of her ordeal pounded at her temples.
By the way, if you want to laugh a little (or cry, if you're a grammar nerd like I am), check out the reviews of Across Five Aprils on Amazon. They are a teacher's nightmare.
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