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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..def2b69 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #69382 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/69382) diff --git a/old/69382-0.txt b/old/69382-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 7fa1efe..0000000 --- a/old/69382-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,3425 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook of Quaker idyls, by Sarah M. H. Gardner - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you -will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before -using this eBook. - -Title: Quaker idyls - -Author: Sarah M. H. Gardner - -Release Date: November 18, 2022 [eBook #69382] - -Language: English - -Produced by: Carla Foust and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at - https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images - generously made available by The Internet Archive) - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK QUAKER IDYLS *** - - - - [Illustration: “_Lucretia Mott quietly took her place beside the - colored man._”--Page 145.] - - - - - QUAKER IDYLS - - - BY - SARAH M. H. GARDNER - - [Illustration] - - - NEW YORK - HENRY HOLT AND COMPANY - 1894 - - - - - COPYRIGHT, 1894, - BY - HENRY HOLT & CO. - - - THE MERSHON COMPANY PRESS, - RAHWAY, N. J. - - - - - CONTENTS. - - - PAGE - - TWELFTH STREET MEETING, 1 - - A QUAKER WEDDING, 17 - - TWO GENTLEWOMEN, 33 - - OUR LITTLE NEIGHBORS, 53 - - PAMELIA TEWKSBURY’S COURTSHIP, 65 - - SOME ANTE-BELLUM LETTERS FROM A QUAKER GIRL, 87 - - UNCLE JOSEPH, 159 - - MY GRANDAME’S SECRET, 175 - - - - - _This little book is - affectionately dedicated to two - dear “Friends,” - E. W. P. and M. M. T._ - - - - - QUAKER IDYLS. - - - - - TWELFTH STREET MEETING. - - -Are the summer mornings longer in Philadelphia than elsewhere, or is -it the admirable Quaker custom of breaking the fast at the usual hour -on Sunday that gives such delightful leisure before the calm walk to -meeting at half past ten? - -Certain it is that the Sabbath of June 11 was no exception to the -general rule, and when John and Martha Wilson, with their daughter -Cassy, passed beyond the brick wall which separates the sanctuary -from the street, there were groups of Friends kindly inquiring after -the welfare of each other, and offering greeting to such as were -unaccustomed to the place. - -John passed to the right, where he extended his hand to a -fellow-worshiper. Martha paused in the doorway to stroke the shining -curls of a pretty child, whose gentle mother had failed in her efforts -to subdue Dame Nature. And Cassy, sweet Cassy, who was no longer very -young, felt the color rise, and modestly dropped her eyes, as she -noticed the pleased observance of her entrance depicted on the face -of George Evans, already occupying a seat on the “men’s side” of the -meeting-house. - -Several elderly Friends were in their place on the floor, and in -the gallery were those who held the positions of elders and accepted -ministers. Their hands were folded, and one or two of the men, who held -walking sticks, rested their hands on the rounded tops. But the faces -of all wore a far-away look, as if the present surroundings could never -disturb the sweet serenity of their souls. - -Quietly the congregation gathered. There was not a large company. -But few wore the garb of the past generation. There was, among the -middle-aged, a disposition to grow a little plainer with increasing -years, but the soft felt hat was conspicuous in the room, and the stiff -bonnets were relieved by silk shirrs of brown or gray. - -Cassy, this warm day, has assumed a gown of white stuff, the very -essence of simplicity; a straw bonnet of half modern date, destitute -of embellishment, unless the satin ties, reaching halfway to the -crown, and the blond pleating surrounding her face, could be called -trimming. The dress was closed at the throat by a small gold clasp, -which confined also the edges of the linen collar; drab, openwork mitts -covered her well-shaped hands--hands that were never weary with good -work, nor ever fearful of losing their beauty in the performance of the -daily toils that fell upon them. - -As the house grew silent, and more silent, a gentle prayer went up from -her heart that she might keep her spirit undefiled, and when, after a -little, the stillness was broken by the voice of an aged man in the -upper seat, she raised her head and paid the strictest attention to -his opening words. - -“Like as a father pitieth his children,” he began, his pale face -reflecting the purity of his aspirations, and the trembling voice, -growing in volume as he proceeded, until after a few moments it had -fallen into that peculiar cadence, a sort of half melancholy rising -and falling inflection, measured and monotonous, that afflicts the -unaccustomed ear, and so often in these holy assemblies destroys their -solemnity. - -Philo Thomas was a trial to poor Cassy; she revered his patient life of -tribulation, she caught the reflection of the light which glowed within -his soul, but his outward manifestations were singularly unacceptable -to her; she wished that so good a man might feel called upon to keep -silence in public places, and yet she half rebuked herself for the -seeming disrespect. - -Patiently she tried to keep pace with the thought that so slowly -fell from the sing-song utterance, but gradually she drifted into a -different channel. The glowing face of the man who had rejoiced at -her coming was rising before her. Educated, as she had been, to the -strictest truthfulness, she could not even seek to shut out from -herself the knowledge that she felt and enjoyed his satisfaction at -her presence there, nor, indeed, her own pleasure and comfort in this -state of affairs. Her heart beat a trifle faster than it ought, and the -blush burned again as she forgot the preacher and the company and only -remembered the one face across the narrow line which divided the women -from the men. - -Suddenly the voice ceased, and the solemn silence smote her like a -sword. - -“What have I done!” she cried out in spirit, “I have desecrated the -holy place. My thoughts are the thoughts of a worldling! Can I bear -through the week the recollection that I wasted my opportunity on the -first day? that any human being can have the power to turn me from my -path, can destroy my self-respect, can make me forget my Creator?” - -“The Lord is in his holy temple, blessed be the name of the Lord,” -passed through her heart, and formed on her trembling lips. Hot tears -filled her eyes and fell unheeded on her handkerchief, tears of shame -and humiliation. - -A faint rustle aroused her. In the gallery a slight pale woman arose, -untied the strings of her stiff bonnet, and laid it on the bench beside -her. Stepping forward until her hand rested on the rail in front, she -spoke softly, distinctly, and the happy change from the droning tones -of the earlier speaker riveted the attention of the wandering. - -She spoke of the pure in heart; defining her terms, dwelling on the -growth of sin if permitted to linger, emphasizing the truth that we -must be ever on the alert to discern the shadow of transgression, until -poor Cassy--who had at once entered into the spirit of the sermon--poor -Cassy felt that this was being spoken directly to her. - -Then as the sweet voice paused, a new measure filled it. She turned -from admonition to adoration, depicting the joy there is in heaven -over one sinner who returns from his ways, and as if carrying out -the thought of the aged man who had preceded her, and which he had -so sorely missed in his illustration, she urged the tenderness of -an earthly parent to an erring child, and the abounding love and -beneficence of our Heavenly Father. - -“Dear children,” she cried, “do not fear to approach him. Open your -hearts! Search out the hidden places! Let the light stream in and your -sins shall be wiped away. Fear not man; that which it is impressed upon -you to reveal, dare not to keep secret.” - -She resumed her seat and her bonnet, but the seed she had sown took -deep root in Cassy’s heart. All through the remaining hour she -revolved its teaching in her soul. It was clear the meaning for her was -a stronger and heartier purification of her thoughts. Not that George -Evans was an unholy object, nor that his affection was to be despised, -but that the meeting-house was not the place for human admiration. And -oh! what did these words mean, “Not to keep silent?” Was she bidden to -unfold this page to George, to tell him that the lesson was for him -also? - -What pain it cost her to dream of such a task! yet was not this one of -those hidden places that should be flooded with light? What if he did -deem _her_ unwomanly who could speak on such a matter without having -been spoken to? Were not the commands of the Lord to be preferred to -any earthly comfort? She should perhaps lose her lover--see herself -dethroned, for never a word had he vouchsafed her but of the plainest -courtesy, but she should gain the respect of her own conscience. The -fires that purify, also blister and burn. How could she refuse? Perhaps -George Evans’ soul was in peril too, for well she knew that upon his -ear had fallen unheeded the words of the first preacher. - -Solemnly the two men friends at the head of the gallery clasped hands, -and immediately a little hum of neighborly inquiry went round. - -Cassy dreaded to move. She felt, rather than saw, her lover waiting for -her outside the door, and silently asking help in her time of trouble, -she walked down the aisle. She did not omit any of the customary -greetings; she promised to meet with the sewing committee the next -day, to carry jelly to an aged friend, and turned and shook the hand -which George Evans held out to her. - -There was nothing strange that he walked beside her down Arch Street, -but he gave her little opportunity to open her heart. They had passed -but a short distance when he broke the silence by saying: - -“Cassy, does thee know I almost felt that Mary Elwood’s sermon was -intended for me? And perhaps for thee, too. I have thought for some -time that the Lord had designed thy path and mine to run side by side. -Thee knows that this morning was the first opportunity I have had -to attend meeting for several weeks, but when I saw thy face it was -so pleasant to me that I fell into a worldly train of thought--how -I might tell thee of my great hope, that thee would respond to my -affection for thee. Mary Elwood’s voice broke my reverie, and showed -me where my way led. I resolved then to speak to thee at once, for -something in thy look betrayed thy feeling, and I feared I had led thee -into evil; that my glance, as I entered meeting, had possessed the -power of withdrawing thy meditation from the Lord, and the voice of his -servant warned me to repent, and hesitate not to reveal to thee the -source of my inquietude.” - -Gravely she laid her hand upon his arm, and with but one shy upward -glance at his earnest face, she said solemnly: - -“Blessed be the name of the Lord. This lesson was also revealed unto -me. Had thee not felt called upon to warn me against such temptation, -I should have dwelt upon it to thee at the first opportunity, but our -Heavenly Father hath spared me the trial.” - - - - - A QUAKER WEDDING. - - -A renowned foreigner characterized Philadelphia as a “city of -magnificent sameness.” Possibly this is true of the older portions of -the town, and surely there is little in the exterior of the compactly -built houses on upper Arch Street to distinguish the dwelling of the -Twelfth Street Friend from that of a more worldly citizen. - -On a certain morning in October, the same atmosphere of seclusion -surrounded the whole block between Sixteenth and Seventeenth streets. -No possible hint came forth from No. -- that within its red brick -walls, outlined with the cold precision of white marble sills and -doorsteps and guarded by heavy shutters, there was about to be -consummated a tender little drama. The narrow door, with its painted -icy glare and glistening knob, opened at short intervals to admit tall -figures in long coats, cut with straight collars, and beaver hats in -gray or black, whose broad brims shadowed smooth-shaven, manly faces. -Trim little maidens too, and their quaint feminine relatives, waited -demurely on the spotless step, for the opening touch of a dark-skinned -hand within. - -It rarely happened that a newcomer entered without a pleasant greeting -to the elderly colored woman: “How is thee to-day, Hannah?” or, “I -am glad to find thee has conquered thy rheumatism”; which brought a -low-voiced answer: “Thank thee; will thee go up to the second story, -or can I send thy bonnet?” This to the elder women, while the sweet -young damsels, in a happy subdued flutter, have turned to the guest -chamber to smooth their silken raiment, or possibly to venture so far -toward personal adornment as the fastening of a few white buds over -the dainty corsage. There was a little murmur of soft voices: the -expression of joy that Cassy and George had been blessed with such a -beautiful wedding day; the hope that Mary Anna Landers would be able to -reach there in time for the ceremony. “She always speaks so acceptably -to the young.” One told of a certain aged Friend in deep affliction -and the message that she bore from the dying bed to the gentle bride -whose helpful hands had so often soothed the pain away. And thus, in -groups, the guests descended to the parlor, the straight long room -where a strong light from tall windows in front and rear was modified -by means of drab Venetian blinds. Between these windows hung, on one -hand, a modest engraving of William Penn, and upon the opposite wall -that of Elizabeth Fry. Both were framed in dark-colored wood, and the -benign expression of the gifted man, and the wealth of dignity in -the face of the celebrated philanthropist charmed in spite of their -austere surroundings. Upon a marble mantel, under a glass shade, -rested a clock, as white and cold as the slab beneath; a small basket -of delicate ferns, as if half ashamed of their vivid green, retired -behind the solemn mouth of a tall undecorated silver candlestick. The -room was well-nigh filled with chairs placed in regular order, and -two hair-cloth sofas whose broad seats accommodated the elders of the -meeting. Directly below the picture of the venerable Penn were the -places designed for George and Cassy, straight-backed old oaken chairs, -that would be a delight to the antiquarian of to-day, and near the -right wall stood a small table upon which rested a roll of parchment, a -pen, and a substantial ink-well. - -One of the windows was open, and the fresh sweet air came in laden with -the noises of the street: the rumble of the carts, the click of hoofs -upon the sharp stone pavements, the distant cries of venders, and the -whistle of the locomotive. The light breeze stirred the cap borders -and the kerchiefs of the placid women, who lifted their soft hands to -rearrange the muslin with the same instinct that prompts the care of -curl and ornament in their fashionable sisters. The parchment fluttered -to the ground, and in replacing it there was exposed to view a page of -exquisite penmanship, the great letters in ornate Old English hardly -belonging to Quaker simplicity. - -Meanwhile in the sitting room at the head of the first flight of stairs -there was a sweet picture. This apartment was so entirely an emanation -from the home life that the stiffness and coldness of the lower room -was totally lacking. The very loud tick of the old-fashioned mahogany -clock that stood in the corner had a sound of cheer. The little wood -fire on the hearth gave out a welcome, and the half dozen rockers and -lounging chairs in gray and brown dress held open arms. A big Maltese -cat crouched by the rug, a few pencil sketches from the hand of a -favorite nephew graced the wall, and a heavy bookcase gave evidence -thro’ its glass door, of much substantial learning. There was a cluster -of periodicals on a stand, the clear title of “The Friend” recalling -their import; a stereo-scope with a tray of views, a basket of knitting -work, and, hanging on the back of a peculiar easy-chair, the round -pillow that betokens snatches of rest. - -Cassy was standing by the east window. The broad beams of the morning -sun were growing more direct, and fell with force over her delicate -form. Her gown of silver gray enveloped her like mist, and chastened -the rising color. As she turned toward the advancing figure of the -bridegroom, her eyes suffused with tears. She held forth her hands and -said tremblingly, “Dear George, how earnestly I pray that our Heavenly -Father may ever guide me so that I walk aright, and fulfill toward -thee all the requirements of this holy relation.” Tenderly he kissed -her as he replied, “My soul is assured that thee never would have -been drawn so close to me were it not the will of the Divine Master:” -and presently when John and Martha entered they pressed the daughter -to their hearts and breathed upon the stalwart young man a blessing, -so full of emotion that the patience of awaiting Friends was quite -forgotten. Then the tall monitor on the corner, that had marked the -hour of Cassy’s birth, gave warning of another epoch in her life. - -The company was seated as the little party entered the parlor. George -and Cassy advanced to the chairs assigned them, John and Martha next -their daughter, and the parents of George occupied a similar position -on the other side. There were a few minutes of absolute silence, then -the younger pair arose, joined hands, and in a clear unbroken voice the -bridegroom spoke these words: - -“In the presence of the Lord and this assembly, I, George Evans take -Cassy Wilson to be my wife, promising with Divine assistance to be -unto her a faithful and loving husband until death shall separate us;” -and after an instant’s pause, the bride, with a far-away look in her -sweet eyes, calmly repeated the same tender promise. Then they sat -down again, and presently a white-haired man, with so great revelation -of power in his face that it might almost have been called conscious -strength, appeared in supplication before the throne of grace. He -asked that the twain now made one might become nearer and dearer to -each other as time went on, and that in fulfillment of the claims of -the spirit, they might ever be ready to respond to the call of the -Bridegroom who cometh while it is yet night. For some moments after -the prayer had ended the company remained with bowed heads, and the -stillness was but gently broken by the movement of another honored -Friend, who came forward as a member of the committee appointed by the -monthly meeting, to be present at the marriage and report that all -proceedings had taken place in strict accordance with the rules of the -society. He now read aloud the certificate, heretofore lying on the -table, testifying to such regularity, and advancing to the bridal pair -requested them to affix their signatures. The pen was then passed to -the parents, and as each person present gave hands to the happy George -and Cassy, the same favor was extended. During the conclusion of this -ceremony, Cassy’s color had brightened with the congratulations and -gentle admonitions of these so dear to her, and before it was finished -the little buzz of friendly interest had wreathed the placid face in -smiles, and dried the tears that were almost too ready to start to the -eyes of the tender mother. No one was forgotten; even the faithful -Hannah and the Cassius of long service added their irregular strokes -to the certificate, and Cassy caught up on her arm the three-year-old -guest, and guided his playful fingers over the smooth page. - -There was a quiet intimation that a collation was spread in an -adjoining apartment, and the thrifty folk, who scorn the embellishments -but not the substantials of life, did ample justice to the bounteous -repast, daintily served from the finest of linen, the clearest of -glasses, and the frailest of china. There was no spoken word of -thanksgiving, only a pause wherein their hearts might acknowledge the -mercies of the Giver of all Good. There was no haste, no indecorous -indulgence in the temptations of the table, but a cheerful, happy -tone pervaded the company who regarded marriage not as the absorption -of one life by another, but as a true union of strong souls for the -furtherance of God’s holy purpose. - -As each guest departed, he or she was freighted with a package of -wedding cake for some friend or servant: “Maria, will thee kindly give -this to Eldridge Percy? We all feel to regret his absence, and trust -that he may be spared to meet with us once again.” “Philip, thee knows -how dear our Cassy was to Hagar the summer we spent at your home: thee -will not mind carrying her a bit of cake?” - -And when at length the hour of parting came, there was no long line of -merrymakers to hurl slippers and showers of rice after the retreating -carriage, but there were last words spoken that dwelt in the hearts of -the earnest young husband and wife, and the injunction of the father -was a simple admonition to “search ever for the light that is revealed -in the soul”; and the loving children heard his brave voice reply to -the neighbor that regretted the distance that must henceforth separate -them: “I can safely trust my son and daughter in the hands of the Lord, -wheresoever he may lead them.” - - - - - TWO GENTLEWOMEN. - - -The square brick house with many windows, in the little village of -W., was called the “Mountain Place,” both from the name of one of its -occupants, and also from its situation, which was the most conspicuous -point in town. - -The owner was a rich manufacturer, who had for many years placed it at -the disposal of his two widowed sisters less prosperous, financially, -than himself. - -Mrs. Letitia Mountain’s family lived on the lower floor in a commodious -suite of “apartments,” hardly known as such in that day, when any -respectable person was supposed to occupy, or furnish, an entire -dwelling, but the idiosyncracy was in this case excused on ground of a -peculiar attachment existing between the sisters. - -The double parlors, with high ceiling and heavy folding doors, were -forever resplendent in white china paint and velvet paper, and the -visitor felt almost obliged to observe the extreme complexity of -the figure on the carpet, evidently designed for homes of heroic -proportions. - -The upper rooms were far less imposing, and thus better suited to the -smaller purse and household of the elder sister, Mrs. Honora Plum. -This poor lady endured much from the companionship of a stepdaughter, -ill-tempered and idle, and reflecting the blaze of an ancient -escutcheon stained by vice, for Mrs. Plum had married the younger son -of a titled English gentleman. - -Nothing of the regret from which she must have suffered ever passed her -lips, and her patient smile sweetened the loaf which she so generously -shared with the woman whose only claim was the name she bore. - -Mrs. Mountain’s past, on the contrary, was delightful to contemplate. A -happy marriage in early life shed a halo over even the long illness and -death of a beloved husband; but neither this break in the tide of joy, -nor the sorrows of Honora, ever darkened the light of true sister love -that doubled their present portion of helpfulness and cheer. - -Both ladies were short and dark, with large brown eyes which never lost -their sparkle, and well-formed lips that kept a rosy color into late -years. - -Fashion forever stamps some part of Nature’s work as reprehensible, -and at the period of which I write, the gray locks that represent -intensity of feeling as often as age were considered unfit to be seen -by the world. So the heavy silken bands that graced the brows of both -sisters were closely covered with beribboned caps, and bordered with -“false fronts” of dusky hair, coiled on each side over two small combs, -forming stiff and ungainly puffs that did not seem to belong to the -little women, but to which they were so much attached that one never -admitted the other to her chamber until the structure was erected, or a -huge nightcap entirely concealed the absence of it. - -Far more suitable would have been the simplicity of the Friend’s -costume, which bore a wondrous charm for them, as the dress of their -beloved mother. But the sisters had wandered from the fold, each -had married “out of meeting” and thereby forfeited her birthright -membership; and having renounced the worship of their fathers, they -also felt it incumbent to robe themselves somewhat according to the -fashion of the world’s people, but the “Stranger” air which marked -their devotions before a “hireling ministry” also clung to their -garments. - -It was a little pitiful, this estrangement from their early religious -associations, and perchance it might have been their greatest pleasure -to return to the fold when the days of their widowhood came, but the -meeting was held in a remote district of the township, and neither -of the sisters was robust. For this reason they made a church home in -the nearest house of worship, and carried thither so much of their -elementary religion as wrought daily miracles of love and patience. - -They were charitable to a degree almost beyond praise, and the fine -bearing, the impressive presence of the little pair, could have come -from nothing else than a realization of noble attributes. - -The annals of New York indeed would be incomplete without mention of -the exceeding service rendered the State in time of need by a rich -Quaker, who steadfastly refused any public recognition, but whose death -was everywhere heralded as that of a man combining in his character -modesty and rare worth. - -Perhaps it was the consciousness of being heir to these virtues that -led Honora into a false conception of the inheritance of her husband, -but the painful knowledge of her error never lessened her understanding -of the motto “Noblesse oblige.” - -Everybody forgave the sisters their touch of pride since both its -source and outcome were of such purity, but it was almost pathetic to -hear their personal disavowal of merit, attributing all things of worth -in their admirable womanhood to their ancestry, and when, in the days -of her children’s youth, Mrs. Mountain found it necessary to chastise -them, the rod was considered far less severe than a reminder that -through misdemeanor they were sullying the family record. - -It was a matter of deep regret to both Honora and Letitia that they -had no sons. The former was childless, and the latter had buried her -boys in infancy, but it was a consolation that the marriage of their -brother, late in life, had resulted in securing a continuance of the -honored line. - -Hospitality was one of the inherited virtues. The fruit cake jar -was never allowed to become empty, and on such holidays as were not -bespoken by their brother, their separate tables were surrounded by the -impecunious old and young of their acquaintance. - -So long as Mrs. Mountain’s daughters remained unmarried there was an -abundance of merrymaking, but after they had gone to homes of their own -this youthful element was greatly missed. Mrs. Plum’s stepdaughter was -too grim to be social, and gradually the lives of the sisters fell -into a routine. - -Certain days in the month were devoted to family visits. The rector -was entertained by them alternately, at stated periods, and once -every fortnight they dressed themselves in stiff silks and real -laces, and went through the formality of returning calls. No doubt -the conversation was as little varied as the wardrobe, yet it was a -pleasing duty, faithfully performed. - -They had been educated like the majority of well-to-do women of -that period, but this was far from developing a love of study--that -progressive intelligence which furnishes the ladies of the present with -unfailing entertainment. - -Nothing, therefore, was a greater satisfaction to them than the daily -visits of an old and respected colonel, living on a large farm just -beyond the border of the town. - -He rode to the post office every morning on a white horse, quite as -stiff in his joints as his master, and it was one of the duties of the -postman to respond to the timely cough of the colonel by carrying out -the scanty mail, if such there chanced to be. The soldierly salutation -repaid him a hundred-fold for this small attention, while the colonel -turned his horse toward Mountain Place. - -He was so prompt in all his proceedings that the servant prepared -herself, at ten o’clock, to answer the summons of the enormous brass -knocker, and with as much dignity as if he had come with a message of -state, the ruddy man inquired for “the ladies.” Then, as he entered the -hall, he graciously relieved any embarrassment by mentioning “Mrs. -Mountain’s parlor, if you please,” or “Mrs. Plum’s drawing room,” -alternating day by day. Immediately the lady presiding arose and -greeted him as though he was recently returned from a foreign mission, -and in the next breath spoke to the servant, who had long ago learned -to await this direction: “Ask Mrs. Plum if it will be convenient to -come down, Colonel Gray is here,” or “My compliments to Mrs. Mountain.” - -The newcomer then formally welcomed the second sister, carefully asked -after her health, and conversation became general. - -An hour, sometimes two, the colonel’s horse stood in the wind and -weather awaiting his agreeable master, but if, as rarely happened, the -latter limit was transgressed, a loud neighing brought the gentleman -to his feet. “Ladies, I have had a most entertaining morning; duty -alone calls me from your side. Allow me to wish you good-day.” - -In the afternoon as the sisters sat by the front window knitting socks -for the poor, or daintily stitching some fine muslin for a baby’s -outfit, they discussed the Colonel’s visit. - -“Letitia, I am sorry brother does not like the Colonel.” - -They never disagreed, and from a constant desire to emphasize, each the -opinion of the other, there had grown a habit of repetition. - -“Yes, Honora, I wish brother did incline toward the Colonel.” - -“I cannot understand his objection. Colonel Grey is a gentleman, and -an excellent provider.” - -This term embraced a multitude of small virtues, chiefly that of -generosity toward his immediate family, and to Mrs. Mountain and Mrs. -Plum, the man who failed in this respect had better not be alluded to. - -It was a little strange that they knew the Colonel’s household habits, -for he lived alone with an aged housekeeper and her husband, and it was -only at long intervals that he opened his doors to his friends, albeit -he was justly proud of the frequent honor he enjoyed of “drinking a -dish of tea” at the Mountain Place, and on these occasions he never -forgot to be strictly impartial in his attentions, and addressed his -conversation first to one, then to the other of the sisters. - -Like the entire village population, he was well aware that to these -ladies everyone looked for advice, and indeed for intelligent nursing. -So frequent were the midnight calls for services that one of the -servant’s regular duties was the disposition at nightfall of their -hoods, cloaks, and lantern conveniently near the front door. - -A reference to this formed a staple joke between the friends, and -Letitia frequently asserted (and it was repeated by Honora) that in -case of illness at “Moss Farm,” they would consider themselves engaged. - -Perhaps the good Colonel had more than a jest at heart when he referred -to the matter, for the ills of life come surely in train of age, and -the summons reached Mountain Place on an early morning of September. It -was a shock to the ladies, this forerunner of a parting from one who -had been so stanch a friend, and so inconsiderate a visitor, as their -brother insisted. - -Just as the carryall came in sight of the Colonel’s homestead, the -first twitter of awakening birds brought a new sense of life and -activity into the world. The dark forest behind the house sent forth a -thousand notes of welcome to the day, and the clear spring, where the -old horse turned to drink, added its gentle murmur. - -Mrs. Mountain was touched, her eyes moistened. - -“Alas!” she said, noting the movement of the old gray, “the world never -stops for any of us. The birds sing, the horse wants to drink, the -sunlight flashes over the farm, just as if the good man that has lived -so long to lighten the cares of others, was not passing away.” - -“Passing away! Yes, passing away,” and the solemn voice of her sister, -seemed like an echo from the hills. - -It was the usual trouble, a shock of paralysis, and the faithful doctor -gave little encouragement, yet he thought it possible the Colonel’s -speech might become clear again, and when the stupor that enthralled -the poor man had passed, the pale eye wandered about the room. Words -were unnecessary, the watchers understood that he wanted a hand laid -in his own, and Letitia gently slid her soft palm beneath the chilled -fingers. Honora as promptly took her place at the other side, stroking -the withered arm that lay motionless upon the bed. - -The doctor opened the window, and as the delicious breath of the pines -crept in, the sick man stirred. He moved his head restlessly. But -when Mrs. Mountain would have left her place to rearrange his pillows, -suddenly his tongue loosed and he spoke, feebly indeed, and with an -effort, but the words fell distinctly upon the listeners. - -“Years ago, I wanted--I intended she should be my wife if----” He -stopped. Presently he gave evidence that the same thought was still in -his mind. - -“Yes,” he murmured, “but I love her just as well.” - -The doctor moistened the dry lips, and the sisters both moved as if to -assist, but one lifeless hand pressed heavily, and the poor member with -a little vitality motioned Mrs. Mountain not to stir. - -So they remained, while hour after hour went by. - -The noonday was upon them when again the old face brightened and the -quavering voice said slowly: - -“Yes, yes, I love her just as well.” - -The silence that followed was not broken again, and soon the faithful -sisters spread the white sheet over the dear dead. - -That night, as they sat together in Mrs. Mountain’s stately parlor, -Honora said with a sigh: - -“Perhaps, Letitia, it is just as well the Colonel never spoke to you -about marriage. His family was not so good as our own, but I thought it -strange he could see you so often and not love you.” - -And Letitia startled Mrs. Plum by contradicting her. - -“Child alive, Honora! I always knew the Colonel loved the ground you -trod on.” - - - - - OUR LITTLE NEIGHBORS. - - A first of April story. - - -Jerry came in one spring morning wearing a very triumphant air. He -caught the baby from the floor and tossed him as he said: - -“Well, Kittie, I have taken the house.” - -“Have you, dear? Now do just tell me all about it. Is it ‘The Cottage -by the Sea’ or a ‘cobble-stone front’ at Riverdale? Have you plenty -of neighbors, and a garden spot, and what rent? Pray don’t keep me in -suspense!” - -An amused smile passed over his face as he seated himself. - -“Let me see, question No. 1. Is it the ‘Cottage by the Sea?’ Yes, if -you choose, for the ocean is only three miles away; just a lovely drive -or even walk through delicious pine wood. A ‘cobble-stone front?’ No, -thank you. A small plain wooden box, of a dull gray color, well suited -to its neighbors, for there is quite a community of Quakers in the -vicinity. Neighbors near? Yes, decidedly, as our share is only half -the box, after all. It was built for a summer home for two brothers, -the Allens, next door to us, you know. Caleb cannot leave town this -year, so we can occupy his quarters. Garden spot? Oh, yes; abundantly -large, but all in one inclosure. The house is regularly divided, but -the grounds are not. Don’t look worried, little wife; you and I and the -baby are not likely to be troublesome, and I am sure Joseph Allen’s -staid household will behave itself.” - -And so on the “First of April” we moved. My costume was considerably -demoralized when we reached our summer home. The baby had quite -destroyed all the beauty my hat ever had, and my small nephew, who had -insisted upon going to visit us the first day, was so timid in crossing -the river that he clung to my draperies with too much fervor, and I -presume that I was an object of pity to the few ladies in the cabin. -Certain it is that I felt decidedly shabby, tired, and perhaps a trifle -out of humor as I entered the cottage door and dropped my heavy boy -on the clean, but carpetless floor. Bridget soon made her appearance -with a list of the casualties, and as Jerry had not yet arrived, I was -growing very gloomy when a light tap at the side entrance caused me to -spring to my feet. - -What a picture of simplicity and purity stood before me! I blushed at -the contrast which my disordered finery presented! Here on my doorstep -were two little wrens (I could call them nothing else, although they -were certainly girls), one just a trifle taller and larger than the -other; both with soft pink cheeks and brown hair cut close on the neck -and parted smoothly and evenly, without a suggestion of crimp or curl. -Their dresses were of a drab color, just visible below long white -aprons, on which there was not even a superfluous button! Their linen -sunbonnets boasted of no ruffles, and the colored stockings, which -peeped from beneath their rather long dresses, were of the same shade. -Little gray birds, with just such shy little ways! - -The elder one looked up timidly and held toward me a basket, saying: - -“Mother sent thee this lunch.” - -“And don’t forget, Sallie,” whispered the younger, “don’t forget about -the baby.” - -“Thee can ask that, Debby.” - -The only worldly looking feature between them was Debby’s blue eyes, -and they sparkled and ran riot in spite of her, but her mouth was very -serious as she asked: - -“Would it not relieve thee if Sally and I were to ’tend the baby?” then -glancing at my company, “the children, I mean, while thee lies down on -mother’s bed.” - -My eyes filled with tears at the thoughtfulness of these strangers. I -had never known anything about “Quakers” before. - -The baby was ready enough to exchange Bridget’s charms for the dainty -little ladies’, and I clasped each of his small hands in Debby’s, but -instantly she transferred one-half her treasure to sister Sally, who -turned demurely, and said: - -“Thank thee. We will watch over him, and presently, if thee thinks -best, I can give him some milk.” - -They had not quite reached the garden when Johnny burst forth. In great -wrath he was indeed. - -“Do they fink I am a baby!” he roared out. “Get my cap, I want to go on -the boat again!” - -“On the boat, Johnny!” - -He colored, and remembering his terror, revenged himself upon me by -saying: - -“I s’pose the reason they calls me chillen is ’cause they’s such ole -womans demselves;” and having flung his parting shot he walked off with -great dignity. - -A moment later he was lunching superbly from cold chicken and apple -tart out of the “’ole womans’” basket! Such is mortal man! - -Although I felt inclined to decline my little neighbor’s invitation -to “lie down on mother’s bed,” it was a great help to me to have the -baby so well cared for, and Bridget’s stout arms ready to stretch and -nail carpets. Down they went rapidly, and was it the fresh breeze from -the ocean, wafted through the pine trees, or was it the glass of rich -Jersey milk that toned me up to such a cheery condition that, when -Jerry’s step sounded on the gravel, I rushed to meet him, singing -“Home, Sweet Home”? - -The good man was delighted with my progress, and especially with my -report of the lovely little neighbors, which I lingered over. - -“And where are they now, Kittie?” - -“Let us go quietly out to the garden and see, for I am sure I do not -intend to impose on good nature by giving over baby entirely to them.” - -The tall drooping willow tree in the grass plot sheltered a lovely -group. Baby mine, sound asleep in the big clothes basket, was snugly -tucked up and protected by the little ladies, attended by that fickle -youth, Master Johnny. His squeaky voice was plainly heard explaining -the mysteries of Cat’s Cradle and Wood Sawyer. But in a moment more he -called wildly: - -“Ain’t that a big snake on the baby?” His companions sprang forward -hurriedly, but the vicious boy only replied, “April Fool.” The two -girls hung their heads and colored. I held my breath. I could not -believe they did not understand the joke. It was only an instant, and -then Sally, laying her soft hand on stupid little Johnny’s head, said -in the silvery voice, so low and clear: - -“Dear, could thee not just as well say ‘Fourth Month Dunce’?” - - - - - PAMELIA TEWKSBURY’S COURTSHIP. - - -In a certain section of Central New York the contour of the hills forms -a remarkable resemblance to a huge _pitcher_, and by this name the -region has long been known. - -A few years since my husband and I, with a young son, took a delightful -outing through that locality. Having our own horses and carriage, -we made a very leisurely journey, aiming always for a comfortable -resting place at night, and bearing away with us each morning a hamper -containing luncheon for ourselves and a bag of oats for the ponies. -Thus equipped, we traversed the distance to our next lodging according -to our daily whim; picnicking at noon, in true gypsy fashion, beneath -some pine trees, or beside a rippling stream; turning from coffee and -sandwiches to a delicious course of “Humorous Sketches,” or a siesta -upon pine boughs. - -Many comical adventures had we. It was difficult to convince the -country people, who often stopped to chat with us, that this was -recreation. They invariably demanded a legitimate reason for such -unusual proceedings, and more than one inquiring visitor searched the -light vehicle for some wares that he had “made sure” we were peddling. - -Genuine offers of hospitality were not wanting, and many a pedestrian -found a seat in the comfortable little carriage. - -It so happened one morning that my husband was somewhat bewildered by -the conjunction of several roads, and seeing in advance of us a sturdy -figure moving forward at a good pace we hurried to overtake it. At the -sound of approaching wheels, and the words “My friend, can thee tell me -just where _Pitcher_ lies?” a genial countenance was turned toward us. - -“Wal, I reckon, this here,” indicating the abrupt hills just before us, -“is the handle. What part be ye looking fer?” - -He had a ruddy face, very grizzly as to beard, and when he removed -his weather-worn hat his smooth, bald crown, with a fringe of white -curls, seemed an unfit accompaniment for the twinkling eyes of deep -blue--such eyes as one sometimes sees in babies, wholly undimmed by -care or tears. - -“Why, I really don’t know,” laughed my husband; “I was directed to -Hosmer’s Inn.” - -“Oh, ho! that’s atwixt the nose and the swell. Now ye are smiling, and -well ye may; but just step out here and ye can see that God A’mighty -shaped a perfecter pitcher out of them hills than most men can turn on -a wheel--no, ye can’t drive nigh to this stump, and that’s whar yer -woman wants to stand.” - -He helped us all to alight, gave me his hand as I climbed to the top of -the stump, and pointed with his thumb to a rise of ground far in the -rear. - -“That thar’s the rim, being what the pitcher ought to rest on if the -Lord had sot it on end.” There was no possible irreverence in his -tone. “Hereabouts,” a rolling section nearer us, “is the swell. Just -across Bub’s left shoulder lies the nose, and here right for’ard is the -beginning of the handle. Foller it--see it curves jest so.” - -It was very plain, and we all expressed our complete understanding of -the “lay of the land.” - -“There is jest four p’ints where you can see the whole figger to onct. -Here, by this hick’ry stump; yander, north of the nose; south of them -pines ye see, and kinder back of the rim. Them’s all, but it’s worth a -journey--and I take it ye are travelers--to see how darned perfect the -thing is. Looked to right, it couldn’t be beat; and I reckon, somehow, -it’s about so with the most of God A’mighty’s doin’s--ef we look to -’em _right_ they’re about perfect, that’s all there is of it.” - -My husband thanked the old man cordially and invited him to ride with -us if his route lay that way. - -“Wal, now, I don’t care ef I do, squire. Ye hev the speech of the -Quakers and them’s mighty good folk, and it haint often nowadays that -I get behind two such spankin’ roans as them be. Nor,” as he clambered -into the front seat, “nor nigh so sensible a looking woman--yer wife, -maybe?” - -“Yes; this is my wife and son.” - -“It’s a darned good thing to hev yer wife with ye, along in life. I -haint never had one yit,” he added evasively. - -We all smiled, but the old man didn’t notice it. My husband spoke of -the crops, of the fine air and good water. Our visitor answered in -monosyllables. At last, pointing to a white gleam in the distance, he -said, almost gleefully: - -“Now, thar’s a woman livin’ in that house, that I cal’late to call my -wife one o’ these days; but time an’t come yet.” - -“How so?” asked I, rather hastily, I fear, for I scented a romance. - -“Wal, it’s a long story, but ef ye an’t amiss I’d jest as lief tell it. -We’re mor’n six miles from Hosmer’s.” And with this little introduction -the story proceeded. - -“It was in 1846 that I first come to the nose. Our farm lay afar off to -the rim--a little mite further. But our deestric wa’n’t a-goin’ to keep -no school that winter; so I up and asked father ef I dassent go off -somewheres and get a job o’ chores fer my board, and so git one more -term of schoolin’. He hadn’t no objections, and kinder thought it over, -and spoke about Deacon Hinman at the nose being laid up with _teesick_ -and reckoned how he might want me. So I packed my big red han’kercher -full o’ traps and socks and shirts, and away I come. I can see myself -now a-bobbin’ up and down this very lane. It wa’n’t worked by team -then, and it was full o’ yaller-rod and spikenet, for it had been an -awful pretty fall. So I, like a boy--and I love to pick ’em yit--hung -a posy bed around my neck, and clean forgot it when I knocked at the -deacon’s side door. And what do ye think? The durndest prettiest gal up -and opened it. I never was so took back. I allers knowed Deacon Hinman -hadn’t no darters; and there she stood and me a-meachin’, till all at -once she said: - -“‘A-peddlin’ posies?’ - -“Then my feelin’ came back, and I answered her quick: ‘Do you like ’em?’ - -“And she took ’em, and was a-turnin’ away as red as a piny herself when -I recollected the deacon’s teesick. So I stepped in the room and sot -down on the settee, and says I: ‘How’s the deacon?’ - -“‘He’s abed,’ says she. - -“‘Got a man around?’ - -“‘Ef we haint it’s none o’ your business. I’m man enough to tell ye -that, and if ye haint got nothin’ better to do than to sass folks and -string posies ’round yer neck, I’d thank ye to git up and go.’ - -“I do not know as I ever heard Pamely Tewksbury say so much to onct in -all my days since, fer she a’nt no talker; but, land’s sake, didn’t -she skeer me, and didn’t she look purty! I kinder shook all over, so I -scarce got tongue to tell her who I was and what fetched me. She was -ashamed enough then; I see it in her eyes, but she didn’t never tell -me. No, sir. That a’nt her way. - -“The deacon’s wife came in jest then, half a-cryin’, for the cow had -kicked her, and it didn’t take long afore we struck a bargain, and -in the evenin’s she told me all about the deacon’s teesick and her -rheumatiz; but the only thing I could remember was that the gal was the -deacon’s niece come to live with them, and her name was Pamely. - -“My! how that winter flew by. I don’t reckon I l’arned a great deal -to school, but I knew jest how many sticks of wood het the stove up -right to bake, and how to plan to git time fer the churning Saturdays, -and to turn out the wash-water Monday nights fer a gal who never said -tire--but I couldn’t a-bear to see them little arms a-liftin’ so. - -“Summer time come, and the deacon wa’n’t no better, and father said -how I’d better stay and hire out for hayin’. I was a powerful worker -then--I can mow my swath pretty reg’lar now--and I was a powerful big -eater, too; but there wa’n’t no lack of vittles. The deacon was allers -a good provider, and Pamely was a rare cook.” - -Here he paused, and turning toward the white speck, now grown into a -distinct homestead, he said gravely: - -“Ef ye was to put up there this very day, and no one a-knowin’ of yer -comin’, _she’d_ set ye afore as good a meal at an hour’s notice as -ever Hosmer sot for two dollars and a half a day.” Then the story went -on. - -“At first I used to talk to Pamely some, but after a while every time I -tried to speak somethin’ crammed in my throat, and it got to be so that -I dassent try to talk. Evenin’s I jest sot and whittled mush-sticks -out of white pine, till she bu’st out one night, and says she: “S’pose -you think I’m goin’ to spile my mush every time with a new tastin’ -stirrer.” And she laughed till she had to go out the room; but what did -I care ef she used them stirrers fer kindlin’? I’d had my luck lookin’ -at her fingers fly a-sewin’ or a-knittin’, and I’ve got a pair of -double blue and white streaked mittens now that she made that winter. -It went along so fer ’bout three year and more. I don’t think I keered -much fer time. I jest wanted to be a-earnin’, winter and summer, and -that was what it had come to, fer the deacon didn’t git much better, -and the wimmen folks couldn’t git along without me very well. They do -say now I’m dreffle handy; and so long’s Pamely set store by me, I was -all right. I declare to goodness, I clean forgot there was another -young man in Pitcher but me! But I had to wake up to it, arter all, and -I’ve wished a thousand times I had waked up sooner. - -“Pamely went off on a visit to her folks, and when she come back, -onexpected like, a feller fetched her. When I see him a-liftin’ her -outen the sleigh I felt like a-heavin’ a claw-hammer at him; but when -he turned round, and I saw what a putty-face he was, says I to myself, -‘Pshaw!’ Several times that winter he come, and set and set, and onct -I got up and was a-goin’ up the kitchen stairs when I felt somethin’ -in my heel. I sot down on the top step and pulled my stockin’ off, -a-lookin’ fer a tack or perhaps a broke-off needle, when all of a -sudden the door was ajar and they hadn’t spoke a word afore I heard Jim -Whiffles say: ‘I knowed a feller as went a-courtin’ one gal fer a whole -year.’ - -“‘P’r’aps,’ said Pamely. - -“‘And she didn’t chuck him off neither.’ - -“‘S’pose not.’ - -“I tell you I listened close after that, but there was not a sound -until Jim shove his chair and got up to go and she took the candle to -the outside door, and then she come in and went right off to bed. - -“Next mornin’ I looked at her sharper’n ever but I couldn’t see a -shadder on her cheek. She was jest as bloomin’ and as quiet as ever, -and I knowed she cared more fer my leetle finger than fer the whole of -Jim Whiffles’ body. - -“Next time he came it was near New Year’s and he sot a big red apple -plump in her lap; but she did not so much as say ‘thankee.’ I thought -she kinder of turned toward me, as much as to say, ‘Ef ye had done it, -all right.’ - -“‘But I didn’t _know_, and I reckoned I needn’t begrudge Jim an -evenin’s lookin’ at her. So I off to bed ag’in. I was thinkin’ how -mean I had been about listenin’ on the stairs, when up through the -big stovepipe hole come these words, jerked out as usual: ‘I think -sometime there’s goin’ to be a weddin’ up to our meetin’-house.’ - -“‘Like as not.’ - -“‘And I reckon Jim Whiffles is goin’ to pay the dominee.’ - -“‘Likely.’ - -“That was all. My heart beat so I thought they must hear it, so I -covered my head with the bed clothes, and in five minutes more he went -away, callin’ out as he drove off, ‘Good-night!’ - -“I did not sleep much, but I kep’ up a thinkin’; and at last I made out -that nobody’d be such a fool as to ask a woman to have him that way; -and it must be Jim felt kinder sneakin’, arter visitin’ of her, and let -her know he was a-goin to marry Ary Edwards that I had heard tell he -went with. So I was comforted ag’in. - -“It wa’n’t more’n two weeks afore I was took down with a fever. Pamely -nursed me night and day, and every time I see her I said to myself, -‘Jest the first time I’ve got strength to walk to the dominee’s house -we’ll be made happy.’ Dear little soul! What a good supper she laid -on the table the night I was so tired out with doin’ of the milkin’, -havin’ done nothin’ fer so long. - -“‘Ezra,’ she says, and her face flushed up; ‘Ezra eat. I’ve cooked it -fer you.’ - -“I wanted to blurt right out then that I loved her, but I didn’t. - -“I had to tuck myself up mighty early, for I was clean beat out, and I -declare fer it, but I was jest fallin’ into a doze like when I heard -Jim Whiffles come. Pamely wa’n’t done the dishes, so she clattered -away, and at last sot down to knittin’. Nary one spoke much, only to -tell a word or two about the snow storm that was a-brewin’. And I was -comforted ag’in, but it was short measure. When the clock had struck -nine Jim got up, and while he was puttin’ on his top coat I heard him -say: - -“‘Pamely, I was a-tellin’ ye last time I was here about Jim Whiffles -paying the preacher?’ - -“‘Jest so.’ - -“‘And you was the gal that the dominee told to love and obey her man.’ - -“‘Jest so.’ - -“I was breathless! Was there nothin’ more to come? I had almost made up -my mind that Jim was gone, when I caught the sound of a very decided -smack. Good Lord forgive me, but I fought with the devil that night! - -“Pamely and Jim Whiffles was made one April 6, 1850. He fell heir to -some property, and she got a thousand dollars when her uncle died, and -a couple thousand more--in land--when Mrs. Hinman went off. So things -prospered with them. He was hardworkin’ kind of a putterer, but she was -a master hand to save, and them children all was like her--smart as a -steel trap. - -“Eight years come next Tuesday Jim Whiffles died. I didn’t need a -second lesson--Lord A’mighty knows how hard it come to me onct! and -I had loved Pamely right straight through. So, jest six months arter -Jim was laid away I made a kind of an errant up to her house, and the -very minnit I see her, it all came over me so I couldn’t help it, and I -screeched right out: - -“‘Pamely, hev me; do, fer goodness sake, say yes! Don’t you know I -allers wanted ye?’ - -“She turned ’round, and her eyes was a-flashin’ when she answered: - -“‘_Allers?_ And lived in the same house nigh onto four years? You had -first chance, and now you come whinin’ afore Jim’s cold.’ - -“I sneaked off. I thought the Lord was ag’in me this time, but I jest -couldn’t give her up. I kep’ right on goin’. All the children one arter -another, has married and done well, and she boosted ’em all. - -“Last Sunday I was over there ag’in, and, somehow, I thought she kind -o’ squeezed my hand at meetin’; so I swelled up, and says I, ‘Pamely, -is Jim cold?’ - - “And she answered back, ‘Yes.’” - - - - - SOME ANTE-BELLUM LETTERS FROM A QUAKER GIRL. - - - Ninth Mo., 27th. - -Mother Dear: When first thy loved face faded from view as our carriage -left the crooked lane, my tears were inclined to flow, but Uncle Joseph -has much of dear father’s gentle manner, and he sought to turn my -attention to the objects around us. - -I will not pause now, to tell thee about the pleasures and pains of -the journey, for my poor head ached sadly ere we reached Boston, but -with all the interests that surrounded my first long ride in the -railroad cars, I could not forget that I was going among comparative -strangers, and leaving the dearest spot on earth. I want now to give -thee a glimpse, if I can, of the life here, and ask whether or not thee -approves of the course I am pursuing. - -It was quite dark when we got to Uncle Joseph’s house, and I think I -had a little fear of meeting his wife, whom I can scarcely call “Aunt” -without an effort, so different is she from the simple women that I -love. Her very first greeting disturbed me, it was so extravagant, and -as full of embraces as if she had always known me; but she was very -kind when she learned that my head ached, and supported me tenderly to -my chamber, where she helped me undress, and then with her own hands, -although they have several domestics, brought me a bit of toast and -tea. I was sorry to disappoint her but I could not taste it, and she -exclaimed petulantly, yet I may have mistaken the tone: - -“Bless me, child, you are too young to have whims--and it is my duty to -see that you keep the roses in your cheeks, or where will the lovers -be? Sit up now, and eat your supper.” - -I am afraid I betrayed the astonishment I felt, but, dear mother, -_thee_ could never speak thus, and--I did _not_ eat the toast! - -Next morning I was out in the garden marveling over the wondrous beauty -of their surroundings, when Uncle Joseph came to look for me. His is a -very sweet spirit, and I may be wrong, but there is pity in my heart -for him. Not that Aunt Élise (as she calls it, although I should -pronounce it Eliza) does not try to do her duty by him, but that her -education has given her false standards. - -She was surprised to see me at breakfast, and asked why I had not -called “the maid” to help me dress. I replied that I needed no one, and -that thee and father believed that it was best to wait upon ourselves; -then she held up her finger glistening with jewels, and said: - -“Tut, tut! I fear we have a rebel to deal with, and rebels are never -attractive. No, no, _ma petite_ (which means little one), the maid -_must_ assist you. She is from Paris, and knows the _art_ of dressing, -which country girls know nothing about, and I want to send you home -with a lover and a trousseau, and that could _never_ be if you comb -your curls out, and wear a gray frock.” - -I believe she means to be kind to me, and is not at all disagreeable, -even though I cannot seem pleased. - -Well the day passed quickly by, for I was charmed with their green lawn -running down to the river-side, and a little hedge of white hawthorn, -that I am sure would delight thee. Toward evening aunt invited me to -drive into the city with her and bring Uncle Joseph home. They do not -have dinner until seven o’clock, which seems very late to me; but -about one, or a little before, we have a nice meal which I thought was -dinner, until I was told to call it lunch. Aunt herself says it is -breakfast. - -The roads are so pretty, fine houses on every hand. It only seems to -me that there is an air of extravagance, which I deprecate, for there -seem to be no small and unpretentious homes, until the city is reached, -and there everything is so dreary! I am sure I should get lost very -easily, for Boston’s streets are as crooked as Philadelphia’s are -straight. I said to aunt that I should hardly dare for some time to -come to town alone, and she answered: - -“Never, I trust. It is highly improper for a pretty young girl to go -out without an attendant.” - -I am sure _thee_ never thought thus. Perhaps she was but trying to play -upon my vanity. - -I think the neighborhood must be a pleasant one just about Uncle -Joseph, for yesterday a number of persons called, and spoke kindly to -me. Toward four o’clock one of the young women asked aunt’s permission -for me to accompany her in a walk by the river. Soon after we left the -house we came upon a group of young men, and my companion explained to -them that she had succeeded in getting me away from my guardian, and -then she gave me the names of the party, and I was surprised to know -that two of them belonged to the old and respected families of A. and -H. It seemed strange to mingle with the descendants of revolutionary -times, and perhaps I expressed a little of the awe I felt, when I -acknowledged their presence. - -Thee has often told me that the Lord is no respecter of persons, -and warned me against doing honor to anything mortal. Perhaps I -have received a severe lesson, for I soon found that this was a -premeditated excursion on the water, and there was a deal of laughter -over the ease with which Anna W. had outwitted my aunt. Thee can -imagine my discomfiture, both at finding myself in a false position -and also at the discovery of their willingness to engage in deceit. -Oh, mother, how have the mighty fallen! When I became conscious of the -whole situation I said, just as I would have said to thee: - -“If there is any doubt about my aunt’s willingness to have me go with -you, I must go back at once.” And can thee believe it? _they laughed_, -and off the boat started. - -Of course there was nothing to do but make the best of it. I tried to -talk to young A. about his famous great-grandfather--but he seemed not -to know much about him, and when I spoke of his nobility of character, -the young man looked bewildered, and said if there had ever been -anything of that kind in the family, it had died out. - -I began to think so, too, as the afternoon went on--for he puzzled me -greatly. All of these young men are being educated at Harvard College, -yet they did not appear to regard their opportunities as unusual, and -their references to the professors were not respectful. Edward H. -inquired whether I read French and on my saying yes, he at once asked -me if I had a good pony--and I told him I did not ride on horseback at -all, which seemed to amuse them greatly, and Anna afterward explained -that a _pony_ was a translation--a key of the whole lesson which the -teachers do not expect them to use, but which nearly the entire class -possess. - -We talked about the matter a little, and I said I should not think one -could learn anything thus, and Edward H. replied “_That_ is not what we -go to Harvard for!” - -How strange it sounded! And yet it was not so distressing to me as -the discovery that these young men have absolutely no interest in -anti-slavery movements. They talked about Garrison and Phillips as -fanatics, and said “This meddling with other people’s concerns is a -very dangerous business.” - -I ventured to ask “And was it not ‘meddling’ to throw the tea -overboard.” - -But they said I was getting too deep for them. And then F. A. told -me that only a very insignificant part of Boston people respected -the Abolitionists. This new party they admitted has an anti-slavery -wing, but that it must be clipped or we shall have trouble. “Trouble” -I cried--and I admit, mother dear, that I talked perhaps, more than I -ought--“how can a man rest easy without troubling the public conscience -about the poor slaves.” A. tried to show me that the best way to -eradicate slavery is to be on good terms with the slaveholders, and -have no concern for the black man, who is only an animal--I think he -said--after all, and when it proves itself a failure in a business -sense, as he admitted it must be, then slavery will die out! - -Not a spark of humanity about him, not a thought of God’s suffering -children, only a fear of disturbing business relations with a rich -section! My heart stood almost still with astonishment. Here in -Boston, where I had looked for the broadest humanity and the clearest -intelligence, here on the lips of the descendant of a great patriot -were words of cowardice and self-seeking! - -When at last the boat turned about, and the young men gave Anna W. and -myself lessons in rowing, we came again to the little landing, and -there on the bank stood aunt in search of us. - -I felt mortified, and would have explained only that I could not -reproach others, and I expected her to reprimand me, but lo! she only -shook her finger and said: - -“Well, girls will be girls, and even a pretty Quakeress is not proof -against temptation.” How I wanted to tell the whole story! But, mother -dear, I did not. Was I wrong? And the young men went away and my -cheeks burned as aunt called after them, “I know you will want to see -those roses again.” - -Good-night dear, dear mother. - - - Tenth Mo., 30th. - -MY DEAR MOTHER: I know thee will not feel it to be wrong for me to -tell thee of my trials as well as my pleasures, for thee has taught me -that nothing is too small a matter to lay before our Heavenly Father, -and in many respects I am puzzled by the new life I am leading here. -Particularly do I regret having to think, and even to dwell upon, -questions concerning money. That is, as thee has said, a necessity of -our physical being, but must ever be relegated to the background in our -thoughts. Uncle Joseph has asked me several times already whether my -purse was not empty, but although I have answered with a laugh that I -did not see the bottom yet, I feel that I have been a little lavish, -and of course I cannot permit another to purchase for me the luxuries -which my pleasure-loving heart alone demands. - -If thee wishes thee may send me some more, but should it prove -inconvenient to do so, merely mention such to be the case, and I will -absent myself from those excursions that are likely to be expensive. - -I have been much mortified more than once already, by Edward H. or F. -A. paying where I am concerned. - -The first time this occurred was the day we sailed in the harbor. There -were car fares, and boat tickets to be purchased, and I awaited Anna -W.’s movement, before getting out my purse. To my surprise she said -nothing about it, and the young men bought everything for us all. I -estimated the cost at about a dollar apiece, which thee sees is quite -an item when figured for four. So at the close of the day, for we had -lunch and all, I spoke to Edward about it. We were walking at the time, -and he stopped and laughed so immoderately that I was hurt. Perceiving -this, he turned and taking my hand, said gently: “Do not deny me this -pleasure. Oh, if I could always do it for you! Your gratitude is so -sweet.” - -What does thee think he meant, mother dear? I was so perplexed by his -speech that I was almost glad when Anna and F. A. turned to ask the -cause of the laughter. But how thoughtful Edward was not to expose me -to others’ merriment, for he turned the talk in another way immediately. - -Was it not right and womanly in me to offer to pay the expense I had -incurred? I want thy opinion, for I think it was, only, from his manner -and that of Anna before, I fear such is not the custom; but I shall -greatly hesitate to place myself under similar circumstances again. - -It was with this thought in mind that I declined to go with them the -next Seventh day. Everyone thought I was sick, and aunt began to -imagine that I had looked pale all day! I denied feeling poorly, and -was beginning to get embarrassed, when Edward H. walked to the window -and asked me to come and see a peculiar cloud. This drew away the -attention of the others and he said very gently: - -“That cloud is no more peculiar than the one which has arisen between -us, and it does not threaten half the harm.” Then he went on to -tell me that he suspected the reason of my refusal, and asked me to -consider whether I would not like to do some small favor for him. I -replied “Certainly.” “Then,” he said, “never speak of money where I am -concerned, again. I have much more than I need, and I could not spend -it in any manner that could both profit and please me more than by -taking you about this region. Consider, too, the favors our family have -had from your uncles.” - -Was it not kindly done? And too, does thee not agree with my opinion -that it _sounded_ like Friends’ teaching? I shall await thy judgment -impatiently--but I went with him. - -Another curious thing has happened too. I expect thee will laugh at the -many adventures that befall me. On Sixth-day evening it rained very -hard, but Uncle Joseph had tickets for a concert, which they wished -very much that I should hear. I thought it would be discourteous to -decline, although I do feel that vast sums are thus frittered away, -which might benefit the poor. To my surprise aunt said I should wear a -wool frock, as we were not going to take the horses on account of the -rain, but would be driven only to a point where we can meet the horse -railroad, which is often a very great convenience. - -Notwithstanding the bad weather there was a large number of persons -present in the hall. I cannot pronounce judgment upon the concert, for -I have no knowledge concerning these things. One lady who sang seemed -to have, naturally, a sweet voice, but it was overstrained, and the -long drawn notes were quite offensive. I am sure, however, that the -audience was satisfied, and uncle and aunt have repeatedly signified -their delight, and hope to have another opportunity to listen to her. I -did my best to express my thanks for the kindness in taking me, without -mentioning my distaste for such entertainments, but my aunt suspected -me, and laughingly said “I believe you are sleepy, child.” And in truth -I was! However, I was soon wide enough awake. We missed the car we had -hoped to gain, and had to wait in a little room, nearly half an hour. -All sorts of people were there. More than once aunt said wearily, “I -hate these mixed crowds, and I shall not let my pity for the horses -inconvenience us like this again.” - -For my part I was quite interested in watching the people. Just as the -car came there was a new throng, and we found it necessary to separate -our seats. Indeed uncle, with many other gentlemen, was forced to stand -the whole way. Just in front of me was a group of Harvard students, and -the moment of starting added to their numbers some who were evidently -under the influence of liquor. One of them was a very young fellow, -neatly dressed and with a sweet expression of countenance, but, mother -dear, he was really intoxicated. He staggered into the door, and -leaning against the post actually _snored_. Many of the persons present -laughed, but the sight was very sad to me, and a nice young man, tall -and straight as Cousin Benjamin, who was close beside me, said, no -doubt observing my distress: “This troubles you.” I answered: “Indeed -it does; think of the boy’s parents!” He assented, and remarked that -the lad was evidently a “Freshman”--that is, a newcomer at college--for -that is what they are called in their first year. - -“And what will become of him when he gets out of the car?” I asked, for -I could plainly see that the poor boy was too much befogged to find his -way home alone. - -“If he has no friend with him, a policeman may get hold of him.” - -“How terrible,” I said, with some warmth perhaps. - -“I suppose,” continued the young man after quite a pause, “that I -_could_ take him to his room if he has any way to indicate where that -is, or to mine until morning, if that will relieve your mind.” - -I supposed I brightened up a good deal at this, and I urged it upon -him, but he did not positively promise, for he quite shocked me by -bending close to me and saying almost in a whisper: - -“If I do, it will be done for your sake, remember, and one good turn -deserves another, so tell me where you go to church.” I was so much -surprised that for a moment I could not answer; then he repeated his -request, but the car stopped with a jerk that it usually has, and my -uncle and aunt signified that we were to get out. - -The carriage was waiting, but we had scarcely made ourselves -comfortable, when my aunt exclaimed: - -“Sallie, I do believe you were talking to those strange men in the car. -What will you do next to astonish me?” - -I saw my uncle closely regarding me, and with a more severe expression -than I had ever seen him wear, but I could not believe I had done wrong -to take a humane interest in the tipsy boy. So I told them all about -it--except that I did not repeat the foolish speech of the tall young -man; it was not worth remembering. - -My uncle’s face softened as he heard me out, and he patted my aunt’s -plump hand and said, smiling at me: - -“I guess she means well always, Élise. Customs differ, you know.” - -But I do not think she regarded it so lightly, for she sighed heavily, -and on First day when I stood ready to accompany her to meeting--I mean -church--she came into the entry leading to my room, and began: - -“Sallie, child, I beg you not to talk to the minister between prayers,” -and then she suddenly turned, took my cheeks between her hands and -kissed each of them, saying rather wildly I thought, “But I declare, -_ma petite_, you are pretty enough to turn the head of any male -creature.” - -She is a strange person! So full of moods--and tenses I might say--but -very very kind to thy simple Sallie. - -Of course thee understands that I gave no clew whatever to the place -of worship where I was in the way of going. - -Nevertheless, last First-day night, when I walked to the “Vesper -Service,” I think it is called, in company with our young friends, -Anna, F. A., and Edward H., whom should I see standing in the -vestibule, but the tall young man! I assure thee I wanted to ask him -how it fared with the poor tipsy boy, but I dared not, particularly -after what aunt had said to me. Still, I could not be unmindful of his -presence all through the hour, for he followed us into the room and sat -just where he could see us all the time. I resolved to banish worldly -thoughts, but I am afraid I did not, so that I grew very uncomfortable, -and was glad when the end came, but even then I was pained by Edward -asking me where in the world I had met Jack D. I answered that I was -not acquainted with any person so named. - -“Well, that _is_ a puzzle,” he said, “for he has been in Europe six -months, and this is the first time I have laid eyes on him, yet I could -have declared [he really said _sworn_, but I don’t think he means evil -by it] that he recognized you as we went in.” - -I had to say something, so I inquired what class “Jack D.” belonged to, -and this was his response: - -“Great Jehosephat! Jack D. is the swellest senior on record. If once -you get into his cave he sports his oak, and treats you like a nabob.” - -The Harvard vernacular is sometimes hard to translate! But I am -burning too much gas. - - Affectionately, - THY DAUGHTER. - - - Eleventh Mo., 3d. - -MOTHER DEAR: Anna W. and I have just returned from what was in many -respects a most interesting excursion, and yet it had its dark side. - -Almost immediately after I had written to thee last week, aunt carried -me to town and insisted upon my choosing several nice garments. It was -wholly unnecessary, for my wardrobe, thee knows, was very comfortable, -and I did not care to be under so great obligation to her, but I -found that to do otherwise would hurt her feelings, so I chose, very -reluctantly, a white merino that she said I must have to wear in the -evening, and aunt herself selected a pretty pale blue silk. It seems -gay for me, but she has promised that it shall be made in a plain -way. I am afraid, however, that her ideas and mine concerning those -things will not agree. Lastly, she bought a gown and cloak of a heavy -texture, and trimmed with beautiful gray fur. There is a muff too. I -submit rather than enjoy taking so much, pretty as the things are. I am -not certain that I can trust my pride, which gets the better of poor -mortals so soon, but thee told me to do as nearly as possible without -troubling my conscience, as aunt desires, therefore I shall wear the -expensive garments with less thought of the unnecessary outlay than I -otherwise could. Uncle Joseph says the color of the fur is the only -thing that reconciles me to the purchase. Indeed I am ashamed to tell -thee that the making of each dress--for I saw the bill--has cost about -seven dollars! - -Well, I will add to this worldly record, that when the cloak and muff -came home, there was also a round hat, with a long soft feather on it! -_Of course_, I could not be comfortable in that, and as it is quite a -new thing for me to wear aught but a bonnet, aunt was persuaded by dear -Uncle Joseph to substitute a bit of ribbon and a band of the fur for -the feather, but I almost wish thee could have seen it just as I first -did, it was beautiful! - -The young men come home from Harvard College every Seventh day at noon, -and we mostly go together, Anna W., F. A., Edward H., and myself for -a drive or a walk. It is getting rather cool for boating. Aunt seems -to find it quite “_proper_” for four of us to be together. She says -(I hate to tell thee this) that either of the boys would be a very -desirable “parti!” Such suggestions drive away all the pleasure that -would come from their companionship, so I try to turn a deaf ear when -she approaches the subject. - -To-day we went to Nahant, a beautiful rocky beach, where there is a -large hotel in summer, and many charming seaside homes. One of the -cottages is owned by a relative of F. A. and is still open, so we -agreed to accept an invitation to dine. - -It was so cool that I wore my new gown and hat, but they all had so -much to say concerning their perfections and becomingness that I felt -pained, and told them so. Edward H. was quite serious over it and -asked me _why_ I should not enjoy knowing I had fine eyes, unusual -hair, and a bright color. Of course I could only answer that if God had -given me _honest_ eyes and healthy color I was very glad, but that I -believed he did not wish me to think too much about them--and Edward -said, “Well, you need not. We will do the thinking.” So then I blushed -more and more, but I managed to ask him not to do any more _talking_ -about it. - -We left Uncle Joseph’s at eight o’clock in the morning, F. A. -driving his father’s horses, which are very fleet. I never had a -more exhilarating ride. The air was delicious and we were a long -time directly by the ocean. Oh, I wished for thee continually! Anna -wanted to drive part way. So Edward got back in the seat with me, -and presently our conversation drifted into politics. Thee knows I am -no politician, and that I adhere to the belief of Garrison, that the -Constitution of the United States is a “Covenant with Hell,” but I -confess I am greatly interested in the Republican party. If Charles -Sumner is right in his opinion of the Constitution, then through -political action we may look for the final overthrow of slavery, but -Edward is not even a Republican! He says the very foundations of our -government will be shaken if they elect their president, and I am not -sure that he is wrong! Let them be shaken, and relaid say I. He calls -me a rebel, and warns me that if another Anthony Burrs appears in -Boston, I may walk the streets in chains, as a conspirator against the -peace and well-being of society. I can see that he goes to greater -length than he otherwise might, because he thinks it teases me. - -I asked F. A. to what party he belonged, and he quickly answered, “The -Know Nothings.” I could not help joining in the laugh that followed, -although it is a serious matter to me, and the levity with which these -young men, of stanch old revolutionary blood, treat such questions -astonishes me beyond measure. - -Indeed I have as yet met no one whom I could characterize as other than -“conservative.” One evening I said this in the parlor, and aunt quickly -answered that to be erratic was always unpopular, and young people -cannot afford to forego the pleasures of society. So she begged me not -to say much even though I felt a great deal. - -No doubt she intended to do me a kindness by this warning, but the -contrast between this teaching and thine, dear mother mine, brought -tears to my eyes. I think Uncle Joseph must have observed them, for -when aunt was called out of the room, he patted me on the head and -whispered, “Next week I am going to give my little girl a treat. We -will not talk about it now, but she shall see and hear some Bostonians -who are _not_ conservatives.” I kissed him, and then we both laughed; -and when aunt came in again he proposed a game of authors, which we -play very often. It is quite new, and I am sure they have learned it in -kindness to me, since they have discovered that I do not play cards. -Did I ever tell thee my experience on this matter? It was soon after -my arrival that a party of friends came in to spend the evening, and -cards were proposed. It seems that aunt is a great card player--whist -I believe they call it--and prides herself not a little on teaching it -to others. It needs a certain number to perfect the game, and including -myself there was just enough for two parties. When I found how matters -were I am afraid I felt cowardly about avowing my principles. It is so -unpleasant to make others uncomfortable, but I did not hesitate long. -I spoke quietly to Uncle Joseph and asked him please not to count me, -as I could not play. Aunt heard me and answered before he had time to -do so: “Oh, that does not amount to much. You shall be my partner, and -as you are surprisingly quick to learn, I will guarantee that another -time you can lead a game.” I know my poor cheeks burned, but I had to -tell her more. “Dear aunt,” I said, “it is not that I am ignorant, for -you are both ever ready to help me, but that I believe it is wrong.” -I wish thee could have seen the astonishment on her face. Her tone -changed at once, and she spoke rather harshly, “Come, come, child, let -us have no whims. How often do you have to be told that the judgment -of your elders is enough. This is no concern of yours save to do as -you are bid; take your place.” I am sure I do not know what would -have followed--for I _certainly_ could never have yielded and even -for peace’ sake touched the pasteboard that is connected in my mind -with all that is low and of evil report. But our struggles are never -forgotten, and a friend was raised up. One of the ladies appealed to -her brother to know if he had the new game in his pocket--authors--and -then very graciously aunt permitted half of us to play this very simple -and innocent amusement. Why is it to do right sometimes costs so much -trouble to others? I think thee would say: We cannot solve all the -problems of life; this is one that must rest with a higher intelligence -than our own. - -Uncle Joseph has just brought me a card of invitation to a party at the -house of John B.’s mother. A queer little dark woman full of learning! -With the card was a penciled note: “Our liberal entertainment will not -take place until the week following Thanksgiving.” I suppose uncle -wrote this, rather than talk about it before my aunt. But how sad it -must be for two really well-meaning people not to agree in their -principles. - -Dear mother, I have kept this letter until after the party in order to -tell thee about it, but I am afraid neither of us will quite enjoy my -relation of it. - -In the first place aunt insisted upon dressing my hair and arranging -some flowers about my blue silk frock. She is really an artist in those -things, and with the help of the maid I scarcely knew myself! Forgive -me, if I say I could but admire the creature they had constructed. And -yet it made me cry, I looked like a stranger! I thought best not to say -a word but to go just as I was, in order to please her. Every time I -passed a glass I felt like an imposter! Dear Uncle Joseph drove with me -in the carriage and came after me at what _they_ regard as an early -hour, eleven o’clock. On the way he said, “Little girl, try and forget -your furbelows, and next time I will persuade aunt to let you go in -your simple white frock.” So I was comforted. And indeed I _tried_ hard -to forget, but I could not. People looked at me on every hand, and I -thought it must be because it was as if I was trying to be someone else -than a Friend. Then came another trial. There was a large room with a -linen cover over the rich carpet, and dancing going on. The musicians -sat in the upper hall, and supper was served from ten on. I had no -sooner gone through with the ceremony of various introductions, than I -was surrounded by young men, who asked me to dance. I suppose they did -so out of kindness to a stranger, but Anna W. helped me in my trouble, -by saying “Yes” to each one that asked me, and then I explained that -Friends did not think it right to dance, and one young man made us -laugh heartily by saying: - -“Why, I thought you were a Quaker or a Shaker, or something that dances -all the time, even when they go to church!” Did not that show gross -ignorance? - -The supper, too, tried me, for everyone, almost without an exception, -took a glass of wine! Anna told me it was a “light wine,” but _that_ -could make no difference to me. - -Edward H. was my escort, and when I declined taking it, he put his -glass down untouched. I thought it was very wise in him. Perhaps the -thought of its injurious influence was new to him. We did not talk -about it, but half a dozen times we were urged to drink. It really -made me sad, for these young men are not proof, always, against -temptation, and indeed I had reason to fear before I left, that the -wine had affected one of them at least; for as I stood waiting to say -Good-night, he asked if he might accompany me home, and when I told him -uncle was coming for me, he added: “I do not blame him for trying to -keep such a beauty to himself as long as possible!” - -During the evening a young matron living near here told me some of -their friends had proposed to have a series of “sociables,” meeting at -their houses alternately, and wished me to join. I am sure it is very -kind, although I do not know what sort of entertainments these are to -be, but I thanked her and said I would ask aunt’s permission, and to -my surprise, as she threw my shawl about my shoulders, she stooped and -kissed me, “Good-by for the present!” That is what they use here as the - form of farewell. - - THY LOVING DAUGHTER. - - - Eleventh Mo., 24th. - -DEAR MOTHER: Oh, what a treat I have had! Nothing that Uncle Joseph -could have done would have given me more pleasure than attending the -Anti-Slavery Fair, held in Music Hall last week. I think thee cannot -estimate aright the effort which it cost him, unless thee calls to -mind all that I have told thee concerning the real relation of the -business men of Boston to the comparatively small number belonging to -the A. S. Society. Of course aunt knew about our attendance, although -I doubt whether she had an invitation to join us, and she made merry -continually over what she called our “escapade.” - -When I went upstairs to get my cloak, she called to me, “Girly, put on -all your _outré_ garments; you must look odd, or you will not be in -harmony with your surroundings. Only _queer_ people belong.” - -The entertainment began at half-past seven with a tea; that is, small -tables were scattered about, where one could sit down, and the ladies -handed around tea and cakes. My pleasure began at once, for we had -scarcely entered the hall, which, by the way, is _very_ large, when we -met Uncle Joseph’s old friend, Daniel K. I had seen him before, and he -told me how much I was like grandmother. So now, as soon as he saw us, -he tucked my hand under his arm and bore me across the room, where, -behind one of the tables sat a stout elderly woman, in a very queer -cap. I have seen pictures like it, and does thee remember Elizabeth -Jones, who did our laundry work one summer? She wore a similar one. It -was not thin like thine, but rather heavy in texture, with a wide frill -about the face. But the woman beneath it was very attractive. She had -such bright eyes and a most winning smile. - -She spoke with Friend Daniel, and I did not catch his words, but -immediately she came around to us, stroked my hair and invited me -to pour tea. Then someone else came and called her by name, and who -does thee think it was? Lydia Maria Child. When I realized that I was -helping the writer of those beautiful stories, I had to turn and look -at her more closely and I could not help saying, “Did thee ever know -David and Jonathan?” We laughed together, and she seemed pleased that I -had read her works. For an hour or more we waited on the cake and tea, -and then Uncle Joseph took me over to the other side where articles -were exposed for sale. I bought a few trifles, which uncle insisted -upon paying for, but thee knows just about what Philadelphia fairs are, -so I will not repeat. One thing however I must speak of. I selected -a tiny package of visiting cards tied together with a bit of ribbon, -and each one was inscribed with the name of a prominent Abolishionist -written by himself. William Loyd Garrison, Wendell Phillips, Charles -Remond, Stephen Foster, and so on. I thought I should like to keep -them until I am old, and tell my children how I came to have them. I -also bought a pocket pincushion with alternate black and white pins. - -Presently there was some music, for which I did not care, and then -a gentleman announced Wendell Phillips as a speaker. My! but I wish -thee had been there! Such enthusiasm! and with good reason. I do not -believe I ever saw a finer looking man. He has a _little_ look of a -man of the world, but one forgets that as soon as he opens his lips. -Then came forth no uncertain sounds, but genuine thunderbolts of truth -and eloquence. Oh, it was grand! Uncle says he spoke over half an -hour, but it seemed short to me, and as he left the platform I sighed. -Uncle Joseph inquired what I would like next, and I answered “Either -Sumner or Emerson,” and lo! as if I had touched a magic spring, _both_ -of them appeared. The former, thee is aware, is not able to do duty, -but his magnificent presence was enough, and he smiled down at the -audience with a great friendliness as he said he “wanted to _introduce_ -Ralph Waldo Emerson.” Everybody laughed and cheered, and the gentle -philosopher spoke only a little time, about human rights and human -wrongs. I was much impressed by his manner, which is that of one who -soliloquizes rather than of an orator. He is a great contrast in -appearance too, to those who preceded him--tall and slender, his head -bowing just a little, as if it was heavy with great thought, but there -is not much fire about him, and thee would undoubtedly like him the -better for it. He is very genial, for I saw him talking and smiling -with all who approached. I hear that he has a great reverence for the -_individual_, and looks not for the foibles, but the majesty of the man. - -I asked Uncle Joseph if he thought it would be right for me to speak -with William Lloyd Garrison, of whom dear grandfather had so much to -say, and I soon found that the very name of my good ancestor was a -passport everywhere in the room. I was introduced to the Garrison young -people, three sons at least; and the mother asked me to come and see -her, which I should like to do, but it is scarcely probable. I do not -wish to offend aunt’s prejudices, unnecessarily, and my visit there -could be of no real use. - -I saw Elizabeth Peabody, who is trying to interest people in the -kindergarten methods of teaching young children, by playing and talking -with them, rather than through books, and it certainly seems a most -reasonable system. - -It seems to me now as if I had seen Boston, for the people who were at -the Fair were the very people I have heard about, and read about all -my life--the people indeed, whom _I_ supposed constituted Boston, and -yet outside their own circle, few know or care whether they exist. I -am wrong. They have been raised up for a holy purpose, and if, as it -seems, the busy mart is deaf to their entreaties for universal liberty, -unconditional emancipation, the sin will lie at its own door should -bloodshed follow. - -I am afraid this meeting with those in whom I am so much interested -will rather spoil me for our everyday routine. It is pleasant enough, -but it seems selfish to devote so large a share of time to one’s -entertainment. I sometimes long for active _work_; but aunt says it -spoils the domestics (servants is her word) to help them, and it spoils -a “lady’s hands”! I never heard thee complain in that way, and there -are no dearer or daintier hands than thine, which are ready for pot or -pan, needle or butter mold. Perhaps it is a little Pharisaical to thank -God we are “not like other men,” but I am thankful that I was sent into -thy arms! - -I have been tempted to say that I had a _complete_ pleasure at the -Anti-Slavery Fair, but as I was about to write it thus, a reminder came -to me of _one_ thing that I wanted and did not get, and that was a -piece of _temperance mince pie_; for I heard it said that there were -such in an adjoining room, and much as I like pies, I have steadfastly -declined tasting those that looked so nice at uncle’s table, for I know -full well they are made with a strong infusion of brandy. - -We came out home by the horse railroad again, and I somehow could -not help thinking about the poor tipsy boy and the tall young man, -and strange enough, the latter got into our car! I did not lift my -eyes once, on the whole route, for he sat directly opposite me, and I -thought it would be discourteous not to acknowledge his presence, and -to do so would trouble my uncle. So I was especially weary when we -got out, and I thought the young man went on further, but just as we -stopped he sprang up as though he had been asleep and in hurrying out -he jostled me, and begged me to excuse it. He has a fair voice, manly, -and direct, and--but what does thee think? after he had passed, there -was a scrap of paper lying on my muff! Perhaps I ought to have thrown -it away without reading, but I _did_ want to know about the poor lad, -and so I crumpled it up in my glove, until I got into my quiet chamber, -and then I saw that it was a bit torn from a newspaper border, and -beautifully written with a lead pencil. It said: “I took him home and -have talked with him since about the wrong he has done. I think it will -not happen again.” - -Was it not kind in “Jack D.” to let me know in this way, without -intruding upon me, or even signing his name? - -I intended to bring home the little cushion I bought at the fair, -but when I told Edward H. all about it, he said that he would like a -memento to recall what I have told him about the sin of slavery, which -I really believe he had never been taught to consider. So I gave him -the pinball. - -I must tell thee about my French lessons next time. Aunt speaks with a -fine accent, they tell me; and she thinks I have been well taught. - - I wish I could kiss thy dear cheek. Farewell, - - SALLIE. - - - PHILADELPHIA, - - Fourth Mo., 26th. - -MOTHER DEAR: Thy presence has been roundabout me throughout the day, -and I cannot sleep until I have availed myself of this poor medium, my -pen, to convey to thee some of the thoughts that fill my mind. - -Cousin Henry went with me to attend the morning meeting at Race Street, -where we listened to words of warning and words of comfort from the -lips of Friend B. and Friend T., and I was quite lost in meditation -following the discourse of the latter, whose fine voice I ofttimes -fear has an influence over me that should only be the result of his -spiritual teaching. Then Lucretia Mott arose and spoke very acceptably, -as she has ever done, to me. Yet it was not the words that fell from -her lips that so greatly affected me, it was the memory of a strange -scene that I have recently witnessed that endeared her to me, and it -is of this that I am anxious thee should know. - -On Second day, while we were awaiting Cousin Henry at the customary -dinner hour, a lad brought in a note asking aunt to excuse his -non-appearance and begging her to bring some friends and join him at -the office of the U. S. Commissioner on Fourth Street as soon after two -o’clock as possible. - -It seems that a colored man had been claimed as a fugitive slave by -a Southerner staying in the city, and this reaching the ears of a -prominent Abolitionist, a few persons resolved to make a strenuous -effort to have the case publicly tried. - -Such, as thee knows, is not the usual proceeding, for the poor -creatures are generally given over to the hands of their taskmasters -with very little noise or show of justice. - -The watchword was quickly passed, and when the case was opened -the small room was densely packed and it was made evident to the -commissioner that considerable excitement prevailed. He therefore -judged it best to delay further trial until 2 P. M., at which hour -the court would sit in the large hall just around the corner, by -Independence Square, and it was there that aunt took me. - -Friend J. and his wife, Elizabeth C. and two sons, and four or five -other “plain bonnets and broad brims,” entered the room about the same -time that we did. A. L., whom thee remembers, was present and arranged -comfortable seats for us, some having benches, others chairs, while a -large table in the middle of the hall was surrounded with the roughest -looking men I ever saw! They were armed with pistols and bowie knives -and handled their weapons too freely to make me comfortable. And yet -how cowardly I felt when I glanced at the poor slave face so full of -terrible anticipation! - -The room was fast filling up with Southern sympathizers when Lucretia -Mott quietly took her place beside the colored man, and after speaking -kindly with him drew forth her knitting work! I never saw anything -so diabolical as the countenances of the company about the table, as -they commented to each other upon her appearance there. Evidently they -resolved to render her situation as trying as possible, which, I assure -thee, they never failed to do during the whole session. - -Of course thee knows I had never been in a court room before, and -so I am afraid I shall not be able to give thee anything more than -a very meager account of the regular proceedings. It seems that the -identity of the slave had first to be proved, with the date of his -escape. Then the poor man brought what testimony he could quickly -gather as to his having lived near Lancaster for a greater length of -time than his would-be owner asserted. The evidence was given under -great difficulties because the strong Southern bias of the crowd broke -forth in wild cries and oaths, whenever the adverse testimony came on. -Sometimes the noise was deafening. The commissioner is a frail man of -middle age, and by the way, a descendant of Friends. He made great -exertion to maintain order, but frequently looked as if he feared the -result of interference. - -Hour after hour went on. The twilight had grown into darkness and -midnight finally drew near. None of the anti-slavery party had been -allowed to leave the room, or rather having left it, to return. -Everyone was getting hungry, yet I think we all thought especially of -the good woman who sat so calmly beside the not over cleanly colored -man, but I am bound to add, with a group of tried and true friends -close around her. - -In one of the pauses loud voices were heard outside, and a rush toward -the door gave us fear that a measure was on foot to seize the prisoner -and carry him off under the very eye of the law, but we found the -trouble arose from a young man insisting upon being allowed to enter -with refreshments for Lucretia Mott. He was actually driven away by -force, and only after a hazardous entry, by means of a water pipe and -window, was he able to present the modest supper to her. Thee will not -be surprised to know that she at once shared it with other Friends in -attendance. - -Soon after daylight the commissioner announced that the testimony had -all been taken and he found himself too much fatigued to continue the -sitting, therefore the court was adjourned until 2 P. M. of that day. -I had grown very restless, as thee may imagine, and turning to aunt I -said, “I scarcely dare breathe for fear the poor man must go back to -his chains.” A. L., who sat near, touched me lightly on the shoulder, -and replied: “Prepare thyself calmly for the worst in life, and thus -thee will not be overwhelmed when disaster comes, and should the best -be realized thy joy will be proportionate.” - -I think I shall never forget his remark. The whole scene is so vivid -before me. I cannot close my eyes without seeing every detail of the -crowded room, dimly lighted, and the shadowy figures in the shady -corners leaning anxiously forward to catch the expression as well -as the words of an earnest old black man, who was questioned and -cross-questioned for hours on the witness stand. I know, mother, that -had it been I, I should certainly have made some mistake, but he did -not get greatly confused, only wandered slowly over and over again in -his statements and settled down upon what proved to be the absolute -truth. - -It seems he was a small gardener in the neighborhood where the prisoner -worked, and had written down in his rough notebook the date of the -stranger’s arrival. This book was the only direct testimony in favor -of freedom, for all the other witnesses became confused, or else -exhibited clearly the falsity of their statements. As it turned out, -the good, conscientious gardener had made a mistake in his date, and -the commissioner suspected it, but as A. L. told us they could not go -behind the written facts and we all thought he was, indeed, greatly -harassed by the situation and was glad enough to be able “to give the -prisoner the benefit of the doubt,” which I suppose is a formal phrase -that applies to causes decided upon suspicious evidence, and thee -knows, it is often said that English law leans toward mercy. - -Alas! that it should not always be based upon justice! And, mother -dear, thee will recall here a great deal that I have written thee -about the young men of New England with whom I have been thrown during -the year. I cannot bring myself back to the old thought that I bore -concerning them. I expected the H. and A. families were as eager for -the abolition of slavery as their forefathers were to found a “free and -independent nation,” and behold! they jeer at Garrison and Phillips and -hesitate to do any thing that will hurt Southern pride. - -Thee has ever taught me to “judge not,” yet I would that the youth of -distinguished patriot families now enjoying every educational advantage -at the great seat of learning--Harvard College--might also feel the -throb of sympathy for the oppressed. But we must turn back to the -terrible slave trial. - -At times, toward dawn especially, when the men grew weary, I suppose, -the pistols were flourished as if they were harmless things. I drew -very near to dear aunt once, but she quietly pointed to Lucretia -Mott, whose age required rest, but whose motion betrayed neither her -weariness nor deep concern. It was a relief when a little before nine -o’clock the court was adjourned. It seems there was some thought of -attempting a forcible capture of the man on trial, but his anti-slavery -friends gathered close about him and thus remained until he was in the -hands of the officers of the law. - -Of course we were very tired, but nothing of small importance could -have kept us from rejoining the throng, for such it had now become, -when court opened again that afternoon. - -What is called the “argument” began as soon as order was established. -First the lawyer on one side, a much disfigured man named B. B., tried -to show that all the evidence was in favor of the slaveholder. That is, -that the man claimed was really the escaped slave, and this being so, -the commissioner ought to give him up. Then the other, G. E., made a -most satisfactory response, stating that the only evidence to be relied -upon was the gardener’s account book, and that distinctly showed the -man to have been free at the time he was said to have run away. Oh, -mother! I wish thee could have heard him. I know it is dangerous to -allow one’s enthusiasm too great liberty, but I never felt so well -satisfied with any speaker before. - -At last it was over and a long reading from the commissioner closed -the matter. Even aunt, I think, was in doubt how it might end, until -the very last sentence, and then--although I did not approve of the -sentiment--I could not help a touch of sympathy with a man near me who -shouted excitedly, “You have saved your soul, commissioner!” - -_Such_ excitement! People shook hands and cried and--the slave had -disappeared! No one saw him go, no one seemed to know where he went, -but aunt whispered to me that it was all right, he was taken in charge -by a friend and would be immediately out of harm’s way. I think it was -an hour before we could get down to the street, so thronged was the -staircase, and everyone seemed happy over the result. - -I am inclined to think my mind dwelt as much on the awful -responsibility of the commissioner as upon the released man. How -_can_ one bind himself by an oath to serve a government that has made -this iniquitous bond with the slaveholders? I _almost_ hope to learn -later that this dreadful experience has led to the resignation of -Commissioner L. - -There was one other thing, mother dear, that gave me great joy. In the -midst of the enthusiasm, someone seized my hand. I was not astonished -at the movement for every heart seemed to be throbbing with sympathy -and brother love, but I assure thee I was very happy when I lifted my -eyes and saw bending over me the familiar face of Edward H.! What a -fine face it is! And on this occasion burning with newborn devotion to -principle! It is needless to say that he has since been to visit us, -and that he is going to return to Pennsylvania during the summer and -has kindly responded to my invitation to come to our home. - -Thee cannot help loving him, I know, nor can dear father either, and -you will both rejoice that--for Edward has so expressed it--through -your simple Sallie’s teaching a strong man has been led to see the -enormity of our national sin, and pledged himself to leave no stone -unturned toward its abolishment. - - In firm affection, I remain - - THY DAUGHTER. - -N. B.--I think perhaps I ought to tell thee about a letter I have -recently had from F. A. A kind letter, but with a tone of flattery -that I do not quite like, nor, indeed, understand. He speaks as if -I was much in his thought and--can it be, dear mother, that I gave -him a wrong impression of my friendship? My cheeks burn as I write -this, but it is delightful to know good Edward H. was thoroughly -inspired--through my mere suggestion that these are serious times--to -do a great deal of honest thinking. I shall be right glad to welcome -him within our home! - - - - - UNCLE JOSEPH. - - -One of the prominent figures in our meeting house for many years was -that of Uncle Joseph--for thus was he known by the young and old who -frequented our religious gatherings. - -He occupied the second seat in the men’s gallery--and it was with him -that the Elder shook hands in sign that Friends should separate, when -it seemed likely that the spirit would move no others to utter gentle -words of blessing or stern warning against the wiles of the tempter. - -As children we regarded Uncle Joseph in the light of a patriarch, -although I now know that his years, at the time of which I write, had -scarce reached the limit of a half century. - -He was a comely man, straight and tall, his smooth-shaven face beaming -with good nature, and his soft blue eye lighted with sympathy, but he -was not intellectual. Slow of movement and uncertain in expression, his -hearers were often troubled to follow his excellent thought, and it -was no uncommon thing for my parents to refer to his ministrations as -being “labored.” We had a consciousness, based perhaps upon accidental -knowledge, that he was uncommonly well to do, and also that there was -considerable feeling in the society that Sarah Sidney, with her clear -insight and facile speech, would be a fit life companion for the good -man. But time wore on and there seemed no likelihood of a realization -of this desire. - -I can remember one occasion when the subject really assumed the -importance that is usually given to gossip, but it was so lovingly and -conscientiously touched upon that I was greatly impressed. - -My father and mother were in the way of inviting many friends to dine -with them on monthly meeting day. Quarterly meeting brought even more -persons from a distance, and among the children little unaccustomed -duties were distributed. I was frequently desired to remain for a time -in the front chamber and assist our women visitors in removing their -wraps and adjusting the cap crowns that often met with disaster beneath -the stiff bonnets. It was always a pleasurable duty, for Friends never -forget the young, and as each one grasped my little palm, she did not -neglect to speak an encouraging word. - -On the occasion to which I have alluded, meeting broke up somewhat -later than usual. I hurried home, warmed my chilled fingers, and ran -upstairs, where a bright fire was burning on the hearth. I glanced -about to see that the wood box was full, and looked out of the window -where my eye rested upon a short line of carriages all bent in the -direction of our home. First came father and mother, grandfather and -the three younger children; then a vehicle well known to me as that of -Elias Chase from Derry Quarter; and thus I counted them off, as one by -one they drew up beside the horse-block. - -I missed Sarah Sidney, who generally came with Theophilus Baldwin’s -family, and having seen her placid face in its usual place on the seat -beneath the gallery, fronting the meeting, I was at a loss to explain -her absence. She was tenderly attached to mother, and I could not -believe any light matter would take her to another’s table. - -A gentle voice called me to my duties: - -“Why, Katherine dear, thee must have been very spry to get home before -us. I was pleased to see thy interest in the meeting to-day.” - -The good woman kissed me and thanked me for the little aid I was able -to give in unpinning her great shawl. - -Directly afterward, sweet Jane Spencer came tripping up the stairs. She -was frequently spoken of as exhibiting “overmuch ardor” in all her -good works, but we children loved the enthusiastic little woman. - -“O Katherine, I am glad to make use of thy quick fingers. My cap -strings are sadly awry. I have been most uncomfortable in them all -through meeting. Our breakfast was a trifle late this morning, and we -had far to drive.” - -One and another arrived, each with a thought of me. “How thee grows, -child,” or “Thy mother is blessed in her little helpers.” - -The room was well-nigh full, when someone asked the question that had -been trembling on my lips. - -“Where is Sarah Sidney?” - -No one directly replied, but after a moment’s reflection nearly all had -a suggestion or a little interest in her to express. - -“Methought her face bore traces of anxiety this morning. I trust she -has met with no further financial disaster. Thee knows, Rhoda, she is -benevolent to a surprising degree in one whose purse is not lengthy, -and it is therefore a serious matter to be forced to curtail in her -giving.” - -“Sarah is too true a follower of the Great Teacher to be long afflicted -by the things of this world,” replied an aged friend. - -“Ah, Hannah dear,” answered the first speaker, “thee has never had the -bread and butter trouble, and therefore thee can hardly compass its -misery.” - -I think we all felt the force of this argument, for Hannah was richly -dowered. Presently Jane Spencer sighed: - -“I cannot help wishing that Uncle Joseph would recognize that the hand -of the Lord is pointing him to Sarah Sidney.” - -“If such be the will of our Heavenly Father, I doubt not it will be -revealed in due time,” and Hannah spoke with great deliberation. - -“That is quite true, and undoubtedly it is only those among us who -are a trifle worldly minded, that show a disposition to hasten these -things.” Jane Spencer was always very meek under reproof, and I felt -glad that others sustained her desire that Uncle Joseph should be a -little less deliberate in his action. - -“I can hardly think that he realizes Sarah’s worth,” said a late comer. - -“On the contrary,” it was Rhoda Longstreet’s voice, “I am sometimes -inclined to believe that his doubt rests upon his own merit. If he -were one of the world’s people I should say he was bashful. As it is, -I shall call him slow in perceiving his adaptation to any peculiar -calling.” - -“Thee may be right,” responded Jane Spencer, and I was struck with the -note of merrymaking that accompanied her words. “If so, I can only wish -that somebody would give him a hint, for I really believe that Sarah -has perceived their true relationship, and that her spirit is troubled -with doubt since no sign is given unto her.” - -“Ah,” interrupted Hannah, “shall we never learn that God does not wish -us to call upon him for _signs_?” - -Now it had chanced, although none of those present were at that time -conscious of it, that Sarah Sidney had given up her seat in a friend’s -carriage to a person who was suffering from a weak limb, and had -walked briskly along the frozen road toward our house. - -Uncle Joseph, too, had chosen to leave his vehicle at home, and seeing -in the distance a familiar plump little figure, he made haste to -overtake her. - -For a few moments they talked together of the lesser things of life. -Then they fell into silence, which was at last broken by Uncle Joseph’s -voice. - -“My mind has dwelt much to-day upon the Bible teaching of the relation -of Ruth and Boaz.” - -I am sure the throbbing heart beneath the clear muslin kerchief of -Sarah Sidney must have bounded a little at this. He went on: “Has thee -ever thought it over, and applied the test to our own lives?” - -It certainly was not strange that the good woman hesitated before she -answered: - -“If thee means to ask whether it has been shown to me that I am chosen -of the Lord to be thy companion, I will admit that it has; but, Joseph, -thee is not an old man, nor am I a young hand-maiden.” - -Uncle Joseph stopped short in his walk, and catching a frightened look -upon the honest face beside him, he gravely said: - -“It was not upon _that_ relation my mind ran. I thought rather of the -increased duty in this day and generation which must belong to the -husbandman and his gleaners; or in other words the responsibility of -him upon whom the benefits of this world have been showered, and the -loud call that is ever sounding in my ear to extend help to those who -need; and it has been whispered to me that thy material goods have -been slipping from thee, and--and, I wished to offer my aid.” - -Could one marvel if a feeling of faintness crept over the gentle Sarah, -or that a beseeching look set the seal upon the awful stillness that -followed? Her face grew first scarlet, then very, very white. Uncle -Joseph’s voice sounded strange in her ear. She feared she should fall, -but as the tones grew clearer, something else impressed her. - -“Sarah, thee has a more receptive spirit than my own. I have sometimes -longed to see aright in regard to the formation of a closer bond with -thee, and I rejoice that through my own ill-chosen speech thee has been -led to point the way.” - -He took her trembling hand between his own, and smiled down upon -the sweet but tearful face; then her lips were opened, the pain went -forever out of her heart, and she whispered only: - -“Dear Joseph.” - -But her trial was not quite over. We were already summoned to the -dining room when Uncle Joseph and Sarah Sidney entered the door -together. I glanced about me, and was certain that I saw more than one -look of satisfaction exchanged by the company present. - -The moment of silent blessing was past. My mother moved as if to begin -serving the soup, but she caught Uncle Joseph’s eye, and awaited his -slow words: - -“Dear friends,” he said with a little tremor in his voice, “rejoice -with me, for to-day has our beloved Sarah Sidney revealed to me the -message that the Lord has given into her keeping.” - -He paused, and with a flush brightening her soft cheeks Sarah asked -calmly: - -“Joseph, will thee kindly explain thyself?” - -I never knew him to do anything so well as he now related to us the -manner in which he had obtained an insight into the secret knowledge of -Sarah Sidney’s heart. - -As he ceased speaking, her own rhythmic tones filled the room in -tender thanksgiving to the Lord for his gift of companionship, and -this has evermore remained in my memory as one of the most beautiful -supplications I have been privileged to hear. - - - - - MY GRANDAME’S SECRET. - - -Almost a hundred years ago, there was born into a staid Quaker -household a child whose very physique set at defiance all the rules of -the orderly family. - -The father, Daniel, and the mother, Lucretia Chester, were fair, -colorless persons, and the brown hair of the latter was severely banded -beneath her clear muslin cap. One can imagine the tinge of dismay that -must have clouded the fatherly affection for his firstborn, when Daniel -perceived that the babe was a dimpled, dark-eyed daughter, whose wealth -of raven locks fell into soft rings about her brow. - -As she grew into recognition of her immediate surroundings, her -abounding vivacity made her singularly attractive. Her great eyes -sparkled as she cooed in sympathy with the soft-toned stroke of the -tall clock that had rung out the hour of her mother’s birth, and -the play of the firelight on the pale wall inspired her to feverish -exhibitions of delight. At such times Daniel laid his hand tenderly on -the refractory curls, and vainly smoothing away their pretty curves, he -said, “Alas, Lucretia, a very worldling has been given to our charge. -It behooves thee and me to keep an untiring watch over the little one.” -“She is the Lord’s own, is she not?” was the gentle reply. But to guide -and to guard her after the fashion of the stern orthodox rule was the -unrelenting training that the father practiced. More than once as the -years went on, he took the scissors from the hand of his wife, with a -strange misgiving lest she harbored a secret pleasure in the child’s -ringlets, and severely he cut away so much of the crowning glory as -scissors could cut, only to find an immediate renewal of nature’s -willfulness, and it was with something like reproach that he spoke of -her brilliant color. - -“I wish, Dorcas, thee had more of the mother’s tint about thee,” he -said, emphasizing the plain Quaker name they had given the girl, as if -to counteract the impression of her brilliant beauty which increased -with time. - -One day as she sat at dinner, flushed by a wild scamper across the lawn -with her playfellow, a soft-eyed collie, straight before her hung a -looking-glass which served her father in his frequent shaving trials, -and the child, catching the reflection of her bright face, cried out: - -“I do not see, dear father, why thee should wish me to be pale like -mother. Mine is far the prettier color. She is a snowdrop, but I am the -rose.” - -The pain Daniel felt darkened his brow. “Dorcas,” he said, “thee speaks -as the daughter of sin; thy words reveal the wiles of the devil.” - -The sensitive girl trembled, then her brave spirit rose and despite her -tears she had answer: - -“Did not our Heavenly Father make us _all_, and why may I not admire -myself, if I am his handiwork, as much as thee admires dear mother?” - -Her innocence touched Lucretia, who made haste to forestall a severe -reproof from her husband: - -“The love of the flesh is unholy, my daughter. We are bidden to strive -with all the might which the Lord vouchsafes against the things of this -world. To purify the heart through the working of the Holy Spirit, this -is the highest good.” - -“I think I do not understand thee, mother. Is the rose blushing for its -sin in not being made like snowdrops?” - -“Dorcas, restrain thy tongue; and, Lucretia, perhaps we are in error -not to take the child more persistently to meeting. That she is -restless and disturbing to the meditations of others must not be -allowed to have too much weight.” - -From that time forward the active girl placed herself under bonds -to subdue her natural inclinations, and many a bright spring morning -she sighed as she watched the lambs frisking in the fields, and noted -the disappointment of the collie as she refused his invitation to a -race, and with dripping hands she smoothed and resmoothed her curls, -preparatory to the ride to meeting. It was hard work, too, for her -to keep awake during the long silence or the droning tones of the -preacher, that seemed arranged in order to lull the restless children -to sleep, but she formulated a private code of morals, under which -this trial figured as a dispensation to school the spirit in its early -encounters with the tempter. - -Occasionally the sermon interested her. Far more frequent was her -retirement within herself, and in misery of spirit she recounted the -long list of her sins, sincerely soliciting aid from on high that they -might be overcome. Among the chief of her trials was to make the honest -confession that she was not averse to looking at her own image, and -from this constant sense of the enormity of the transgression grew -an absolute intolerance of her beauty. She would have become morbid -over it, but for the thoroughly healthful nature which reveled in -outdoor exercise, and was of no mean assistance to the busy father -in his lesser tasks. Dorcas was unselfish, too, and her mind turned -readily into other channels than that of self-consciousness. She was -a deft little housemaid, and imitated her mother’s kindly ways with -the servants; but perhaps the absence of childish companions gave her -an air of maturity hardly in accord with her years. She was dreamy -too. Somewhere in her nature lurked a drop of Southern blood; that -which colored her rich dark skin colored also her mental constitution. -She was filled with romance and yet she had never heard a fairy-tale -or listened to a troubadour’s song, but her soul was on fire at the -relation of a heroic deed, or the unspoken sentiment of a pair of -lovers. - -Lucretia had chosen to teach the little maiden at home; perhaps the -staid father had hesitated to send the worldling into the midst of -temptations such as lurk behind the schoolroom door. His pride in her -ready insight must have been great for he did not scorn knowledge, -although he scorned honors, and Dorcas displayed a marvelous aptitude -for study. Even this bore a cross to him. “She is more like a boy than -a girl at books,” he thought, and cherished the memory of every gentle -womanly exhibition. - -Daniel dearly loved Lucretia. She was to him a type of the true wife, -and undemonstrative as he was, little as she would have acknowledged -the wish, there lurked in the heart of each an unspeakable sorrow that -the only child which God had given to their arms should be so unlike -the meek and patient woman, the sweet orthodox saint, who had borne her. - -In 1815 prison reform was a dim dream in the hearts of a few. Men -incline toward a theory of retributive justice, and are keen to assume -the judgment rôle and fasten a stigma to sin, forgetful that although -the sin may be outgrown, the stigma rarely is wiped away. - -The orthodoxy of society was as fixed as the theological dogma of that -early day; leniency was license to the common mind; and the culprit was -faced with continual reminders of his guilt as a necessary step toward -repentance. - -The wrath of man, like the wrath of God, was to be known and feared; -the evil-doer was beaten into the path of the righteous, not led by -the law of love. Too much of this spirit exists at the present time, -but seventy-five years ago the force of public opinion tended in that -direction. - -The prisoners were permitted to come forth on Sabbath morning and -listen, many of them with bound limbs, to a long exhortation from the -strait-laced clergy, who pointed a finger of scorn as well as reproach -at the guilty, and it was little wonder that their hearts were hardened -by what they heard, and that when they went forth again into the world -it was often with a determination to revenge themselves on society at -large. - -The home of Daniel and Lucretia Chester was a resting place for such -Friends as repaired to that locality for religious purposes, and -Daniel was frequently charged with bearing one of them company to the -county jail, which stood on the outskirts of their little town. Here -he never failed to be impressed with the terrors of sin, and to exhort -his family afterward to tread the straight and narrow way. More than -once Dorcas had been allowed to accompany her father on such visits, -with the idea of permeating the maiden’s consciousness with a correct -view of righteous punishment. On such an occasion, when she had just -passed her sixteenth birthday, the Friend who had a “concern” to speak -to the erring, aroused her indignation by his harsh denunciations. So -touched was she that her sympathies far outran her judgment, and in -passing through the room where the prisoners had assembled for worship, -Dorcas let her eyes rove over the throng and tender smiles play about -her mouth. One face among the many never faded from her memory. He was -but a lad, scarcely greater in years than herself, but tall and well -built. His keen glance was riveted to her face from the instant of her -entrance, and when she kindly nodded to the sullen group, this youth -fairly started from his seat. His bronze brow, his piercing black -eyes, his clean-cut limbs--all were instantly photographed upon her -mind. - -She lingered a moment at the door, while Daniel turned his carryall, -and as she paused, she was conscious that the boy had reached far over -his companions and was eagerly watching her. - -“Father,” she said, “does thee suppose all those prisoners are really -guilty?” - -“Undoubtedly, Dorcas. It is a sad sight--a sad sight; but there is no -room to doubt that punishment awaits them hereafter as well as here.” - -“I do not believe it,” she said sternly; “that is, dear father, I do -not think our Heavenly Parent will afflict them always, because they -have done wrong once. Would not thee take one of them to thy home and -heart after his release just as eagerly as thee would have done before -he was put in prison?” - -“No, I would not. Are we not told that the way of the transgressor is -hard, and are we to set our judgment in defiance of that of the Lord -our God? It is our duty to enforce punishment for sin, to make the -sinner feel his peril, his exclusion, in order that he may repent.” - -“But suppose he has repented?” - -“Then let him come before his Maker and confess.” - -“I think it would be awfully hard, dear father, for me to go before -thee and mother and say I was sorry, after you had so severely shown -your displeasure with me. Now if we held out our hands and welcomed the -sinner home, would he not be more likely to come? Was it not so in the -parable of the Prodigal Son?” - -“There be those,” Daniel answered, as if in protest, “who thus construe -the passage, but I believe it not. No man may even turn to his father’s -house until he has been fed on husks.” - -The midsummer heat was upon the land. The red sun set in splendor, and -the blood-dyed moon rose as in wrath. - -The simple little chamber which was Dorcas’ own, had a broad window -opening upon the upper veranda. The small white cot was close at its -side, and the sweet night wind that bore the breath of the wild rose -and the clustering honeysuckle, softly stirred the dark curls that -strayed beneath the border of the muslin cap which the sleeper wore. -The heat was so great that she had suffered the strings to remain -untied, and the collar of her plain gown was turned away from the white -throat. She stirred. Was the breath from the garden too free upon her -cheek? Consciousness of some invasion made her restless. Presently her -eyelids quivered and lifted; surely Dorcas was dreaming! and yet, no; -there was a manly figure resting on the sill of the open window. She -sat up, making a quick motion to close the neck of her gown, and tie -the cap strings, but as quickly a voice broke upon her ear. - -“Do not be afraid. I have been here several minutes wanting to tear off -one of those strings, but I knew it would disturb you.” - -Dorcas was never a coward, and her astonishment at this matter-of-fact -statement forbade any outcry. - -“Who is thee, and what does thee want?” was her commonplace exclamation. - -“I am Henri Beauclaire. I have escaped from the jail. You saw me there. -I found out who you were after I was certain that it was not an angel -who smiled on me last Sunday, and--do not stop me. I only want to tell -you this: when I made up my mind to get out of that mad house, I made -up my mind, too, that I would see you and talk to you before I went -away.” - -The girl was fascinated by the picture. A handsome youth with his soul -blazing in his eyes, sitting upright in the brilliant moonlight that -fell across her bed. There was no evil in his face. She kept silent and -let him speak on. - -“Your name is Dorcas Chester, and I want you to know that I never -stole the money I was put in jail for stealing; but they proved I did, -and so I had two whole years to serve if I did not get away from them. -Would not you have tried to get out? That is hell over there.” - -“Yes,” she half whispered. - -“I knew you would. Nothing I can ever do or say will make me anything -in this world but a jail-bird unless I hide. So I am going to France -for a while. My _grandpère_ is there. By and by I will come back, and -you must give me something that I can show you then so that you will -know me, for I shall not look like this.” - -He glanced disdainfully at the poor clothes he wore and reached out a -hand as if to receive an offering. - -“What shall I give thee? I have nothing.” A thought of a lock of her -hair was in Dorcas’ mind, but she knew it would be missed, cut as -cleverly as she might. Then came the doubt, too, whether it were right -to thus encourage a culprit! - -“Give me,” Henri said, and his voice was melodious, “give me that cap -string.” - -She shrank back into the shadow. It seemed indelicate to let him touch -her nightgarb. - -“Would it, would it make thee think of leading a better life, of God -and forgiveness and----” - -“It would make me think of you, and that is of God. Forgiveness I need -not, for I never did the deed. No better life ask I than such one as my -_grandpère_ lives.” - -He reached for the cap string. - -Mechanically Dorcas tore it off and lifted it to his height. - -The boy looked out at the sweet stars paling under the tropical moon, -then he bent his eyes upon the beautiful girl, and slowly said: - -“I am going now. Remember, I never did it, and keep yourself just -as you are until that day when the white cap string shall come home -again.” He was gone, and Dorcas sat silent for a moment; then the -painful consciousness forced itself upon her that her father’s voice -was calling. She dropped her head upon the pillow, wrapped the sheet -about her throat, and closed her eyes. The voice came nearer. “Dorcas, -Dorcas,” it said; but she did not stir. Her heart was wildly beating -with fear lest the youth of her dream should be pursued, but her parent -went calmly away, and only at breakfast was there any allusion to the -circumstance. - -“Dorcas, thee talked strangely, last night, in thy sleep.” - -The girl’s face crimsoned as she felt the untruthfulness of her -reply: “How funny that is!” but the motherly eye was not long without -discovering the loss of the nightcap string. - -“Daughter,” she said, “how was it possible for thee to tear thy cap in -this way? It is as though thee had willed to do it and done it with all -thy might.” - -And the girl replied, with some of her hoydenish spirit: “Throw the -old thing away; I have plenty more,” for it seemed as if she could not -tolerate the witness to her secret compact. - -“I am surprised,” answered the gentle mother. “Waste not, want not. -Get thy thimble and thread; here is some muslin, thee can hem another -string.” - -Dorcas did not allow herself to brood over her midnight adventure. -Perhaps she was pained by the part of concealment that she played -toward her parents; perhaps she was troubled, too, by a recollection -of the rebuke contained in the boy’s words. She was sometimes inclined -to feel that he was right and her own little world was wrong in so -strictly upholding law, and in believing the ways of God were at utter -variance from the ways of generous men. - -“I care not to live any better life than that _mon grandpère_ lives.” - -These words were ringing in her ears, and she pictured to herself the -detail of that life, far enough from reality, no doubt, but a pretty -idyl. She began to read much history, and once asked her mother to -allow her to take French lessons from a villager. Lucretia was shocked. - -“Ah, my child! there is little to be read in that tongue that could -benefit thee. Blasphemers and winebibbers they are, with no sense of -shame in their idolatry of sensual things.” - -“Then they are an evil-minded people, mother?” - -“Yea, yea; a frivolous and false-hearted race.” - -Then Dorcas turned away sorrowfully. Could it be that Henri Beauclaire -had told what was not true? If he could steal he might also lie. He -was base had he done both; and if that race was false why was he an -exception among Frenchmen? When this mood was upon her she blushed -alone in her chamber at the thought of the bit of muslin that he so -carefully rolled about his finger and put from sight. Mostly, however, -her meditations were concluded with the memory of his respect for the -clean life of his _grandpère_, and, do as she might, to think him -guilty she could not. - -The years went quickly by. It was a round of simple duties to Dorcas, -enlivened by a keen sense of the beautiful and a quick response to -sympathetic needs. The weeks were much alike. First-day meeting, -followed by the household laundry work. Fourth-day meeting, succeeded -by the mending, sweeping, and baking. This was varied by monthly -meeting day dinner, when several Friends were apt to be seated at -their board, or a drive to a quarterly meeting in a larger community; -and the crowning event--not often enjoyed by Lucretia and Dorcas--of -passing a week in the great city at the time of the yearly gathering. -It was on one of the latter occasions that Dorcas met and became much -interested in a young man who was welcomed by Daniel as the son of a -dear and distant friend. She had never mingled with youth a great deal, -and George Townsend’s quick wit and good temper were a source of great -pleasure to her. She had no idea of marriage in her mind, and when, -after months of intimate acquaintance, he directly asked her to become -his wife, she shrank from him as if he had struck her. - -“Does thee feel that I have done wrong?” he gently questioned. - -“No,” she stammered; but a strange vision of flashing dark eyes and an -earnest injunction to “keep just as you are now” made her faint. - -“Will thee let me dwell upon thy request in solitude?” she said, and -the honest-hearted man made answer: - -“Thee is right to question thy own soul. If there thee finds a single -cloud, wait until the light cometh.” - -When Dorcas sat alone she covered her face with both hands and a few -tears trickled between her fingers. Presently she wiped them away, and -began to question herself as she would have questioned another. - -“Why do I hesitate? I am greatly drawn toward George Townsend. Father -and mother regard him highly; he is a God-fearing man, capable and -conscientious; he is a member of our meeting; his business can be -readily arranged so that we may live near my dear parents and bless -their declining years. Why not?” - -To so pure a maiden, one whose affections had never keenly asserted -themselves nor been lightly trifled with, the idea of having granted -unasked the treasure of her love was in itself a reproach. - -Dorcas paled in view of the thought to which she felt it right to give -definite shape; then she walked restlessly toward the window where once -sat the dark-eyed lad, and she said, honestly and bravely: - -“Until to-day the actual meaning of that charge, to ‘keep as you -are,’ never occurred to me. Am I certain that he intended that bit of -muslin to typify my faith--faith to him personally? or was it, as I -vaguely comprehended it then, faith that I would be the same in my -just dealing with his apparent shortcomings? Who can tell? It is six -years since he went away. Perhaps he died before seeing his _grandpère_ -again. Perhaps he forgot the place where he suffered so much; or found -his beautiful ancestral home too lovely to leave. Perhaps--” and this -hurt her, but she thought it fair to admit the doubt, “perhaps he -fell into evil ways again. And, indeed, had he been all that my dream -pictured, would he not, within six years, have found an opportunity to -communicate with me? Surely I deserved it.” - -Then came another question; “Would I have married him, had he come back -with a clean record and a demand for my love? Could I have given my -life into the hand of an utter stranger, a foreigner of whose race I -know no good? Would my father and mother have blessed me and bade me -go to my husband’s arms with joy? No, it could not have been, and I -could not have done it without. Should Henri return tomorrow for the -fulfillment of such a desire, I should bid him leave me. Is it right to -marry George Townsend with this secret in my heart? Ought I to reveal -it, reveal my doubts and struggles concerning it? No. I should be quite -willing to place my hand in his and say, ‘George, whatever thee has -in thy heart that thee wishes to tell me, that do I wish to hear; but -whatever trials thee has passed through and honestly left behind thee, -with those I have no question.’ - -“Could I let George go from me and live my life alone, without a pang -because of his absence? No, I could not. Therefore, O Lord, with a -clean heart I will walk beside him, asking daily grace from thy hand, -and humbly seeking to serve thee through serving him.” - -She bathed her flushed face, smoothed the curls away, and went into the -garden. There among the sweet-peas and the rich clove-pinks, she laid -her hand in that of her lover and simply said: - -“My heart tells me I will be a true wife unto thee.” - -The next decade wrought a great change in Dorcas. The vivacity that she -had seemed so likely to lose under the stern repression of her parents, -assumed the semblance of loving good cheer. Her beauty as a matron -surpassed that of her girlhood, and it became a matter of merrymaking -in the household that a stranger never passed her without turning to -look a second time. Her sweet spirit was overflowing with thankfulness -for the great blessing of fervid affection from so manly and upright a -companion as George Townsend. Indeed, if ever the taint of pride clung -to Dorcas it was when she thought of her husband. - -A little maiden had for eight years walked beside her. A faithful -representative of the Chester household. Truly, if Daniel had regretted -his own daughter’s alien features, he was content now in the miniature -Lucretia whose demure air was a marked contrast to the flashing wit of -her dark-eyed mother. - -The village, too, was changed. Through George Townsend’s exertions -manufacturing interests flourished, and although wealth was pouring -into his coffers, the comfort of a thousand lesser households told of -just dealing between man and man. But the old jail still stood on the -highway, and its barred windows were lengthened to a half score. The -same fiery brick walls, the same foul atmosphere, the same class of -inhabitants were closed behind the multitudinous bolts and bars. The -passer-by winced as he heard the loud laugh or the fearful curse; and -the faces that pressed against the iron casement were faces of the -young and the old, of women as well as men, and gathered from the ranks -of first offenders as well as those of the hardened criminals. - -One morning, while yet Dorcas sat at the head of the breakfast table, -dispensing as much of cheer by her sunny face as from the viands, a -message was brought requesting her presence at the county jail. It -was no unusual occurrence for the mother to be thus summoned from her -peaceful home to smooth the path of the unrighteous, and very shortly -she stepped from her carriage into the door of the plague spot of the -neat village. She was met by the jailer’s wife, a coarse woman, but not -untouched with good intentions. - -“I was sorry to send for you,” she said, “but a queer-looking man -was let in last night, who has been bleeding at the lungs, and all I -could do and say was nothing till I promised to fetch you early this -morning. He hadn’t ought to been here, I ’spose, but Thomas found him -sitting on the doorstep, and rattling the latch, and when he asked -to be let in and Thomas said as it was a jail, he up and told a queer -story about once having broke out; and anyways it wasn’t right to leave -him out there a-bleedin’, so I put him in one of my rooms; he seemed -decent-like.” - -An unaccustomed horror crept over Dorcas. She had to steady herself -against the door-post for a moment before following the woman into the -cramped little chamber. - -Half-sitting upon the bed, surrounded with pillows and cloths stained -with blood, was Henri Beauclaire. His eyes flashed with the old -intensity, but from amid the pallor of a countenance wasted with -disease. - -“Stand there,” he whispered hoarsely; and motioning to the jailer’s -wife to go out, he fastened his gaze on Dorcas’ half-frightened face. - -“Look at me, woman; do you know me?” - -She bowed her head. - -“Do you know what this is?” he said again, as he drew from his breast a -bit of soiled and yellow muslin. - -“This is a betrothal ring. Yes, I tell you, by this you plighted your -troth to me, and by the heavens above, you have broken your faith.” - -Dorcas made motion as if to answer. - -“Stop,” he said. “You can have nothing to say; it is I who must relieve -my bursting heart. Do you know what this is?” laying his finger on the -bright stains. “This is my life-blood, and you have spilled it. When -I came over sea I had a cough, and they told me I needed care, but -I laughed them to scorn, for I said to myself, when once I am there, -where her gentle hands can smooth the pain away and her sweet smile -bring back the light to my eyes, all will be well. Do you know how -it was with me during these years? When, after being hunted like a -wild beast from wood to cavern, from hill to seaport, at last I stood -by my _grandpère_, his heart was filled with joy--for I was his only -descendant left on earth, and on me he leaned feeble and childish. I -could not leave him for an hour without reproach; how could I come -to you? Year after year he lingered, and although I starved for your -smile, I believed in you, and God knows, had I suspected the awful -truth of your unfaithfulness, I should have done the same. Heaven -itself could not have lured me from that poor man, whose dying -blessing is sounding in my ears this day. When I had laid him away, -scarce three months ago, and found that the old chateau with its -thousands of meters of rich garden and tillage was mine, I bounded for -my passport, I dreamed of naught else than a return to build a family -worthy of the saintly dead. - -“Would you know the rest? How I came in the dusk to the village street -and crept in the shadow to your father’s door, feeling that I could not -at once bear the blaze of your beauty. When I had seen the old man open -the casement and sit in the moonlight with a child upon his knee, my -heart misgave me. Fainting for food, for I had been too eager to eat, I -crept back to the inn. Slowly I questioned the _garçon_ concerning the -people of the village, and gradually the truth dawned--you were untrue! -I was like a madman that night. I wore a track in the floor, I doubt -not, with my restless pacing, and when day broke I went forth with a -wild intent to do murderous work. All through the hours of sunlight -I examined the mill, and the dwelling-place where a false heart was -beating, and at night I planned to carry out my work of destruction. I -would fire the mill and the house and take care that, so quick would -leap the flames, that no escape would be possible. And if, through -some strange fatality, my plot was defeated, there, in the fierce -distraction of a great conflagration, I would rush upon you with my -knife and stab you to your death! Yes,” he leaned forward and hissed -the words, “the woman who has taught me that there is no faith, that -God and honor and love are myths, ought to die by the hand of the man -whom she has wrecked.” - -Again Dorcas stirred, and again he waved her into silence. - -“And what was your excuse? Six years of silence. What were they to me? -Six centuries might have waned, and I should have kept my faith. When -I looked at this trysting string, I said alway and ever the same: ‘She -is as strong as the threads she tore with so great an effort; she will -never waver.’ - -“What was the good of nature’s brand that you bear: the mark of -unyielding purpose, of faith and love as firm as God’s foundation, as -broad as the firmament--you belie them all. There you stand now with -your great eyes shining as if a _soul_ dwelt behind them; your rich -smooth skin blooming with the color and purity of nature, not artifice; -your red lips curved with a smile you cannot repress, and yet I swear -you are as false as hell! - -“Only this”--he touched the crimson stains--“only this defeated my -plan, and enabled you to breath the sweet spring air once more; only -this has made it possible for me to die cursing you with my latest -breath without dealing that blow at your heart that should have mingled -our blood in one stream.” - -The exhausted man fell back upon his pillows, and Dorcas crept to his -side and smoothed the rich waves of jet-black hair, and with a wet -sponge moistened his lips. Presently he opened his eyes, and before he -could speak she said calmly: - -“I am going to take thee to our home. George Townsend will help me to -nurse thee back to life and peace. I will tell thee, now, that I never -knew thy full intent in asking me for the cap string; had I known it I -should not have given it, for thy reason and my own would have rebelled -against an alliance wholly at variance with Nature’s laws. Thee did not -love _me_, the girl; thee loved my _faith_, my trust in thy honesty; -and I bid thee go on loving it, for I shall trust thee now, just as -I trusted thee then. I believed thee innocent of the crime for which -thee had been confined. I believed it only because thee said it was so, -and thy face told the same story. I believe in thee now, in despite -thy _words_, for thy soul is speaking more truly through thy glance, -and that tells me that thy devotion to thy _grandpère_ was no myth, -while thy frenzy is. Thee shall find thy faith in me is rewarded, for -thee shall live to be one of our household and to bless us all with thy -goodness.” - -She ceased speaking, summoned the jailer’s wife, and had the sick man -borne to her carriage. - -When she had reached her own door Dorcas entered alone, and quietly -spoke to her husband, who still sat by the breakfast table. - -“George, I have brought home a very ill man; will thee please attend to -his removal from the carriage while I prepare a bed? I shall put him -into the little room next our own that I may the more carefully tend -him.” - -That night, as Dorcas sat late by the invalid’s side, the only word -that he spoke was the whispered question: - -“Are you not afraid?” - -And as she bent over him tenderly she answered: - -“Not for a moment do I fear thee; I only wish thee well.” - -Slowly the strength came to the feeble pulse, but when the frail man -was permitted to leave his sick bed, it was found that his cough became -less frequent and his fever had subsided. Then, too, he was moved into -a large upper chamber, the best the house afforded, and although the -kind attentions of Dorcas were unremitted, he lost all sense of care or -espionage. Gradually he recognized himself as a member of the family, -and never was there any allusion to his advent or expected departure. -Before many months he was the dear “uncle,” of the household, taking -his part in all that went on; teaching the little Lucretia; reading -aloud bits of quaint wisdom or humor, from “Le Roman de la Rose,” and -“Le Roman du Renart;” pages from Froissart, his beloved Pascal, and La -Bruyère; or listening to the many schemes for lifting the burdens of -others that were constantly suggested by George or Dorcas. - -From 1820 to 1830 there was a great awakening on the subject of Prison -Reform. The work of England’s noble Howard had been supplemented by -that of the devoted Elizabeth Fry, and the whole world rang with their -achievements. Slow, alas! was the motion across the water, but sure in -its coming. - -Henri Beauclaire, too feeble to exert great physical effort, was keenly -alive to the necessity of introducing humanitarian methods in all -places for the confinement of the accused. - -He labored unceasingly toward an enlargement and purification of the -county jail, for separate day rooms for the men and women, for decent -food and lavatories, and for constant occupation. In all he did Henri -was warmly seconded by his true friends, and when at last the summons -came that called him from their midst, no one among the villagers was -more regretted. - -In the short will which was found amid his small effects, he had -bequeathed the old chateau to his native town as a home for such -discharged prisoners as were friendless and aged, and the closing -clause read thus: - -“To my more than sister, my earthly savior, Dorcas Townsend, I leave -the testimony of my later years, and the contents of my strong-box.” - -This contained some valuable silver and household linen bearing a -coronet, and a sandalwood casket wherein reposed a yellow muslin cap -string. - -In the evening following the burial Dorcas sat with her family about -her on the moonlit porch. She slid her hand softly into that of her -husband, and said: - -“George dear, thee has never asked me, but I should like to tell thee, -the secret of my peculiar interest in our brother who has passed away.” - -Then my grandame told the story, and the accurate memory of my mother -gave it unto me as it is written. - -At its conclusion her husband kissed her flushed cheek, saying: - -“Thine was ever a romantic nature, and were romance always controlled -by reason, how many lives might blossom into joy and usefulness, as did -that of our beloved Henri.” - - - THE END. - - - - -IN UNIFORM STYLE: - - -THE PRISONER OF ZENDA: - - Being the History of Three Months in the Life of an English Gentleman. - By ANTHONY HOPE. 16mo, 75 cents. - - -“A grand story.... It is dignified, quick in action, thrilling, -terrible.... There is everything that is exciting and turbulent, -and nothing that is too extravagant to be possible with desperate -men fighting for so great an issue as the throne of a ‘powerful -province.’... A great writer, and there is no flaw either in -the design, execution, or wording of a really most ingenious -tale.”--_Chicago Herald._ - -“The author is a born story-teller, and has, moreover, a very pretty -wit of his own.”--_The Outlook._ - - -A SUBURBAN PASTORAL. - - And Other Tales. By HENRY A. BEERS. 16mo, 75 cents. - -Contents: A Suburban Pastoral--A Midwinter Night’s Dream--A Comedy -of Errors--Declaration of Independence--Split Zephyr--A Graveyard -Idyl--Edric the Wild and the Witch Wife--The Wine-Flower. - - - QUAKER IDYLS. By MRS. S. M. H. GARDNER. 16mo, 75 cents. - -Contents: Twelfth Street Meeting--A Quaker Wedding--Two -Gentlewomen--Our Little Neighbors--Pamelia Tewksbury’s Courtship--Some -Ante-Bellum Letters from a Quaker Girl--Uncle Joseph--My Grandame’s -Secret. - - - JOHN INGERFIELD. And Other Stories. By JEROME K. JEROME. 16mo, 75 - cents. - -Contents: John Ingerfield--The Woman of the Saeter--Variety -Patter--Silhouettes--The Lease of the Cross-Keys. - - - HENRY HOLT & CO., - Publishers, New York. - - -Jerome’s John Ingerfield; - -=The Woman of the Saeter=, =Silhouettes=, =Variety Patter=, and =The -Lease of the Cross-keys=. The title-story (half the book) and the -two that follow are in serious vein. With portrait of Jerome and -illustrations. Small 16mo. 75 cents. - - “This dainty little volume, contrived to look like a tall folio in - miniature ... the creepy Norwegian ghost story (_The Woman of the - Saeter_) ... the vague but picturesque sketch called _Silhouettes_.... - The first (_John Ingerfield_) is a very sweet and pathetic love story - ... true to the best there is in human nature ... many diverse traits - of character and striking incidents being compressed within its - narrow limits.... It is a good thing to write an honest, wholesome, - old-fashioned love story like _John Ingerfield_.”--_New York Times._ - - “Rare combination of true pathos and thoroughly modern humor.”--_The - Churchman._ - - “_Variety Patter_ and _The Lease of the Cross-keys_ are in lighter - vein; the former having delicious humorous touches, and the latter - being in its entirety a very clever conceit.”--_Boston Times._ - - “A charming story.”--_Literary World._ - - “A charming little story.”--_London Athenæum._ - - “Quaint and attractive in the extreme.”--_Philadelphia Call._ - - “_The Woman of the Saeter_ is weird and strange, and told with much - art.”--_Outlook._ - - “An exquisite love story ... like fine gold in its value.”--_Chicago - Herald._ - - “One of the sweetest, saddest stories we have ever read.”--_Chicago - Times._ - - “One of the best short stories that has appeared in some - time.”--_Detroit Free Press._ - - “A delightful story.”--_Hartford Post._ - - “... The book will not be put down until all are - finished.”--_Baltimore American._ - - - HENRY HOLT & CO., - 29 West 23d Street, New York. - - - - - Transcriber’s Notes - -Errors in punctuation have been fixed. - -Page 32: “henceforth seprate” changed to “henceforth separate” - -*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK QUAKER IDYLS *** - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the -United States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part -of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm -concept and trademark. 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H. Gardner—A Project Gutenberg eBook - </title> - <link rel="icon" href="images/cover.jpg" type="image/x-cover"> - <style> /* <![CDATA[ */ - -body { - margin-left: 10%; - margin-right: 10%; -} - - h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 { - text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ - clear: both; -} - -p { - margin-top: .51em; - text-align: justify; - margin-bottom: .49em; - text-indent: 1em; -} - -.p2 {margin-top: 2em;} -.p4 {margin-top: 4em;} - -img.drop-cap -{ - float: left; - margin: 0 0.5em 0 0; -} - -p.drop-cap:first-letter -{ - color: transparent; - visibility: hidden; - margin-left: -0.9em; -} - -.x-ebookmaker img.drop-cap -{ - display: none; -} - -.x-ebookmaker p.drop-cap:first-letter -{ - color: inherit; - visibility: visible; - margin-left: 0; -} - -.upper-case -{ - text-transform: uppercase; -} - - -hr { - width: 33%; - margin-top: 2em; - margin-bottom: 2em; - margin-left: 33.5%; - margin-right: 33.5%; - clear: both; -} - -hr.tb {width: 45%; margin-left: 27.5%; margin-right: 27.5%;} -hr.chap {width: 65%; margin-left: 17.5%; margin-right: 17.5%;} -@media print { hr.chap {display: none; visibility: hidden;} } - -hr.r5 {width: 5%; margin-top: 1em; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 47.5%; margin-right: 47.5%;} - -div.chapter {page-break-before: always;} -h2.nobreak {page-break-before: avoid;} - -table { - margin-left: auto; - margin-right: auto; -} -table.autotable { border-collapse: collapse; width: 60%;} -table.autotable td, -table.autotable th { padding: 4px; } -.x-ebookmaker table {width: 95%;} - -.tdl {text-align: left;} -.tdr {text-align: right;} -.page {width: 3em; vertical-align: top;} - -.pagenum { /* uncomment the next line for invisible page numbers */ - /* visibility: hidden; */ - position: absolute; - left: 92%; - font-size: smaller; - text-align: right; - font-style: normal; - font-weight: normal; - font-variant: normal; - text-indent: 0; -} - -.blockquot { - margin-left: 5%; - margin-right: 5%; -} - -.center {text-align: center; text-indent: 0em;} - -.right {text-align: right; text-indent: 0em;} - -.smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} - -.allsmcap {font-variant: small-caps; text-transform: lowercase;} - -.caption {font-weight: bold;} - -/* Images */ - -img { - max-width: 100%; - height: auto; -} -img.w75 {width: 75%;} -.x-ebookmaker .w75 {width: 95%;} -img.w10 {width: 10%;} -.x-ebookmaker .w10 {width: 13%;} - -.figcenter { - margin: auto; - text-align: center; - page-break-inside: avoid; - max-width: 100%; -} - - -/* Transcriber's notes */ -.transnote {background-color: #E6E6FA; - color: black; - font-size:smaller; - padding:0.5em; - margin-bottom:5em; - font-family:sans-serif, serif; } - -.xbig {font-size: 2em;} -.big {font-size: 1.2em;} -.small {font-size: 0.8em;} - -abbr[title] { - text-decoration: none; -} - - /* ]]> */ </style> -</head> -<body> -<p style='text-align:center; font-size:1.2em; font-weight:bold'>The Project Gutenberg eBook of Quaker idyls, by Sarah M. H. Gardner</p> -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online -at <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you -are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the -country where you are located before using this eBook. -</div> - -<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: Quaker idyls</p> -<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: Sarah M. H. Gardner</p> -<p style='display:block; text-indent:0; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: November 18, 2022 [eBook #69382]</p> -<p style='display:block; text-indent:0; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</p> - <p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em; text-align:left'>Produced by: Carla Foust and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images generously made available by The Internet Archive)</p> -<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK QUAKER IDYLS ***</div> -<p class="center p2"><span class="figcenter" id="img001"> -<img src="images/001.jpg" class="w75" alt="Lucretia Mott quietly took her place beside the -colored man."> -</span></p> -<p class="center caption">“<i>Lucretia Mott quietly took her place beside the colored man.</i>”—<a href="#Page_145">Page 145</a>.</p> - - - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h1 class="nobreak" id="QUAKER_IDYLS">QUAKER IDYLS</h1> -</div> - -<p class="center p2"> -BY<br><span class="big"> -SARAH M. H. GARDNER</span> -</p> - -<p class="center p4"><span class="figcenter" id="img002"> -<img src="images/002.jpg" class="w10" alt="publisher mark"> -</span></p> - -<p class="center p2"> -NEW YORK<br><span class="big"> -HENRY HOLT AND COMPANY<br> -1894</span> -</p> - - - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<p class="center p2"> -<span class="smcap">Copyright</span>, 1894,<br> -<span class="small">BY</span><br> -HENRY HOLT & CO.<br> -</p> -<p class="center p4"> -THE MERSHON COMPANY PRESS,<br> -RAHWAY, N. J.<br> -</p> -</div> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_iii">[Pg iii]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CONTENTS">CONTENTS.</h2> -</div> -<hr class="r5"> - -<table class="autotable"> -<tr><th></th><th class="tdr">PAGE</th></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl"> -<a href="#TWELFTH_STREET_MEETING"><span class="smcap">Twelfth Street Meeting</span>,</a> -</td><td class="tdr page"> -<a href="#Page_1">1</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl"> -<a href="#A_QUAKER_WEDDING"><span class="smcap">A Quaker Wedding</span>,</a> -</td><td class="tdr page"> -<a href="#Page_17">17</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl"> -<a href="#TWO_GENTLEWOMEN"><span class="smcap">Two Gentlewomen</span>,</a> -</td><td class="tdr page"> -<a href="#Page_33">33</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl"> -<a href="#OUR_LITTLE_NEIGHBORS"><span class="smcap">Our Little Neighbors</span>,</a> -</td><td class="tdr page"> -<a href="#Page_53">53</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl"> -<a href="#PAMELIA_TEWKSBURYS_COURTSHIP"><span class="smcap">Pamelia Tewksbury’s Courtship</span>,</a> -</td><td class="tdr page"> -<a href="#Page_65">65</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl"> -<a href="#SOME_ANTE-BELLUM_LETTERS_FROM_A_QUAKER_GIRL"><span class="smcap">Some Ante-Bellum Letters from a Quaker Girl</span>,</a> -</td><td class="tdr page"> -<a href="#Page_87">87</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl"> -<a href="#UNCLE_JOSEPH"><span class="smcap">Uncle Joseph</span>,</a> -</td><td class="tdr page"> -<a href="#Page_159">159</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl"> -<a href="#MY_GRANDAMES_SECRET"><span class="smcap">My Grandame’s Secret</span>,</a> -</td><td class="tdr page"> -<a href="#Page_175">175</a> -</td></tr> -</table> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_v">[Pg v]</span></p> - - - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<p class="center"> -<i>This little book is affectionately dedicated to two -dear “Friends,”</i><br> -<i>E. W. P. and M. M. T.</i><br> -</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_vi">[Pg vi]</span></p> -</div> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_1">[Pg 1]</span></p> - - - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_2">[Pg 2]</span></p> - -<p class="center xbig">QUAKER IDYLS.</p> - -<hr class="r5"> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_3">[Pg 3]</span></p> -<h2 class="nobreak" id="TWELFTH_STREET_MEETING">TWELFTH STREET MEETING.</h2> -</div> - - -<div> - <img class="drop-cap" src="images/dc_a.jpg" width="100" height="113" alt=""> -</div> - -<p class="drop-cap"><span class="upper-case">Are</span> the summer mornings longer in Philadelphia than elsewhere, or is -it the admirable Quaker custom of breaking the fast at the usual hour -on Sunday that gives such delightful leisure before the calm walk to -meeting at half past ten?</p> - -<p>Certain it is that the Sabbath of June 11 was no exception to the -general rule, and when John and Martha Wilson, with their daughter -Cassy, passed beyond<span class="pagenum" id="Page_4">[Pg 4]</span> the brick wall which separates the sanctuary -from the street, there were groups of Friends kindly inquiring after -the welfare of each other, and offering greeting to such as were -unaccustomed to the place.</p> - -<p>John passed to the right, where he extended his hand to a -fellow-worshiper. Martha paused in the doorway to stroke the shining -curls of a pretty child, whose gentle mother had failed in her efforts -to subdue Dame Nature. And Cassy, sweet Cassy, who was no longer very -young, felt the color rise, and modestly dropped her eyes, as she -noticed the pleased observance of her entrance depicted on the face -of George Evans, already occupying a seat on the “men’s side” of the -meeting-house.</p> - -<p>Several elderly Friends were in<span class="pagenum" id="Page_5">[Pg 5]</span> their place on the floor, and in -the gallery were those who held the positions of elders and accepted -ministers. Their hands were folded, and one or two of the men, who held -walking sticks, rested their hands on the rounded tops. But the faces -of all wore a far-away look, as if the present surroundings could never -disturb the sweet serenity of their souls.</p> - -<p>Quietly the congregation gathered. There was not a large company. -But few wore the garb of the past generation. There was, among the -middle-aged, a disposition to grow a little plainer with increasing -years, but the soft felt hat was conspicuous in the room, and the stiff -bonnets were relieved by silk shirrs of brown or gray.</p> - -<p>Cassy, this warm day, has assumed a gown of white stuff, the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_6">[Pg 6]</span> very -essence of simplicity; a straw bonnet of half modern date, destitute -of embellishment, unless the satin ties, reaching halfway to the -crown, and the blond pleating surrounding her face, could be called -trimming. The dress was closed at the throat by a small gold clasp, -which confined also the edges of the linen collar; drab, openwork mitts -covered her well-shaped hands—hands that were never weary with good -work, nor ever fearful of losing their beauty in the performance of the -daily toils that fell upon them.</p> - -<p>As the house grew silent, and more silent, a gentle prayer went up from -her heart that she might keep her spirit undefiled, and when, after a -little, the stillness was broken by the voice of an aged man in the -upper seat, she<span class="pagenum" id="Page_7">[Pg 7]</span> raised her head and paid the strictest attention to -his opening words.</p> - -<p>“Like as a father pitieth his children,” he began, his pale face -reflecting the purity of his aspirations, and the trembling voice, -growing in volume as he proceeded, until after a few moments it had -fallen into that peculiar cadence, a sort of half melancholy rising -and falling inflection, measured and monotonous, that afflicts the -unaccustomed ear, and so often in these holy assemblies destroys their -solemnity.</p> - -<p>Philo Thomas was a trial to poor Cassy; she revered his patient life of -tribulation, she caught the reflection of the light which glowed within -his soul, but his outward manifestations were singularly unacceptable -to her; she wished that so good a man<span class="pagenum" id="Page_8">[Pg 8]</span> might feel called upon to keep -silence in public places, and yet she half rebuked herself for the -seeming disrespect.</p> - -<p>Patiently she tried to keep pace with the thought that so slowly -fell from the sing-song utterance, but gradually she drifted into a -different channel. The glowing face of the man who had rejoiced at -her coming was rising before her. Educated, as she had been, to the -strictest truthfulness, she could not even seek to shut out from -herself the knowledge that she felt and enjoyed his satisfaction at -her presence there, nor, indeed, her own pleasure and comfort in this -state of affairs. Her heart beat a trifle faster than it ought, and the -blush burned again as she forgot the preacher and the company and only -remembered the one face across the narrow<span class="pagenum" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</span> line which divided the women -from the men.</p> - -<p>Suddenly the voice ceased, and the solemn silence smote her like a -sword.</p> - -<p>“What have I done!” she cried out in spirit, “I have desecrated the -holy place. My thoughts are the thoughts of a worldling! Can I bear -through the week the recollection that I wasted my opportunity on the -first day? that any human being can have the power to turn me from my -path, can destroy my self-respect, can make me forget my Creator?”</p> - -<p>“The Lord is in his holy temple, blessed be the name of the Lord,” -passed through her heart, and formed on her trembling lips. Hot tears -filled her eyes and fell unheeded on her handkerchief, tears of shame -and humiliation.</p> - -<p>A faint rustle aroused her. In<span class="pagenum" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</span> the gallery a slight pale woman arose, -untied the strings of her stiff bonnet, and laid it on the bench beside -her. Stepping forward until her hand rested on the rail in front, she -spoke softly, distinctly, and the happy change from the droning tones -of the earlier speaker riveted the attention of the wandering.</p> - -<p>She spoke of the pure in heart; defining her terms, dwelling on the -growth of sin if permitted to linger, emphasizing the truth that we -must be ever on the alert to discern the shadow of transgression, until -poor Cassy—who had at once entered into the spirit of the sermon—poor -Cassy felt that this was being spoken directly to her.</p> - -<p>Then as the sweet voice paused, a new measure filled it. She turned -from admonition to adoration,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</span> depicting the joy there is in heaven -over one sinner who returns from his ways, and as if carrying out -the thought of the aged man who had preceded her, and which he had -so sorely missed in his illustration, she urged the tenderness of -an earthly parent to an erring child, and the abounding love and -beneficence of our Heavenly Father.</p> - -<p>“Dear children,” she cried, “do not fear to approach him. Open your -hearts! Search out the hidden places! Let the light stream in and your -sins shall be wiped away. Fear not man; that which it is impressed upon -you to reveal, dare not to keep secret.”</p> - -<p>She resumed her seat and her bonnet, but the seed she had sown took -deep root in Cassy’s heart. All through the remaining<span class="pagenum" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</span> hour she -revolved its teaching in her soul. It was clear the meaning for her was -a stronger and heartier purification of her thoughts. Not that George -Evans was an unholy object, nor that his affection was to be despised, -but that the meeting-house was not the place for human admiration. And -oh! what did these words mean, “Not to keep silent?” Was she bidden to -unfold this page to George, to tell him that the lesson was for him -also?</p> - -<p>What pain it cost her to dream of such a task! yet was not this one -of those hidden places that should be flooded with light? What if -he did deem <em>her</em> unwomanly who could speak on such a matter -without having been spoken to? Were not the commands of the Lord to -be preferred to any earthly comfort? She<span class="pagenum" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</span> should perhaps lose her -lover—see herself dethroned, for never a word had he vouchsafed her -but of the plainest courtesy, but she should gain the respect of her -own conscience. The fires that purify, also blister and burn. How could -she refuse? Perhaps George Evans’ soul was in peril too, for well she -knew that upon his ear had fallen unheeded the words of the first -preacher.</p> - -<p>Solemnly the two men friends at the head of the gallery clasped hands, -and immediately a little hum of neighborly inquiry went round.</p> - -<p>Cassy dreaded to move. She felt, rather than saw, her lover waiting for -her outside the door, and silently asking help in her time of trouble, -she walked down the aisle. She did not omit any of the customary -greetings; she<span class="pagenum" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</span> promised to meet with the sewing committee the next -day, to carry jelly to an aged friend, and turned and shook the hand -which George Evans held out to her.</p> - -<p>There was nothing strange that he walked beside her down Arch Street, -but he gave her little opportunity to open her heart. They had passed -but a short distance when he broke the silence by saying:</p> - -<p>“Cassy, does thee know I almost felt that Mary Elwood’s sermon was -intended for me? And perhaps for thee, too. I have thought for some -time that the Lord had designed thy path and mine to run side by side. -Thee knows that this morning was the first opportunity I have had -to attend meeting for several weeks, but when I saw thy face it was -so pleasant to me that I fell into a<span class="pagenum" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</span> worldly train of thought—how -I might tell thee of my great hope, that thee would respond to my -affection for thee. Mary Elwood’s voice broke my reverie, and showed -me where my way led. I resolved then to speak to thee at once, for -something in thy look betrayed thy feeling, and I feared I had led thee -into evil; that my glance, as I entered meeting, had possessed the -power of withdrawing thy meditation from the Lord, and the voice of his -servant warned me to repent, and hesitate not to reveal to thee the -source of my inquietude.”</p> - -<p>Gravely she laid her hand upon his arm, and with but one shy upward -glance at his earnest face, she said solemnly:</p> - -<p>“Blessed be the name of the Lord. This lesson was also revealed unto -me. Had thee not<span class="pagenum" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</span> felt called upon to warn me against such temptation, -I should have dwelt upon it to thee at the first opportunity, but our -Heavenly Father hath spared me the trial.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</span></p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</span></p> -<h2 class="nobreak" id="A_QUAKER_WEDDING">A QUAKER WEDDING.</h2> -</div> - - -<div> - <img class="drop-cap" src="images/dc_a.jpg" width="100" height="113" alt=""> -</div> - -<p class="drop-cap"><span class="upper-case">A</span> renowned foreigner characterized Philadelphia as a “city of -magnificent sameness.” Possibly this is true of the older portions of -the town, and surely there is little in the exterior of the compactly -built houses on upper Arch Street to distinguish the dwelling of the -Twelfth Street Friend from that of a more worldly citizen.</p> - -<p>On a certain morning in October, the same atmosphere of seclusion -surrounded the whole block between Sixteenth and Seventeenth streets. -No possible hint came forth from No. — that within its red brick -walls, outlined with<span class="pagenum" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</span> the cold precision of white marble sills and -doorsteps and guarded by heavy shutters, there was about to be -consummated a tender little drama. The narrow door, with its painted -icy glare and glistening knob, opened at short intervals to admit tall -figures in long coats, cut with straight collars, and beaver hats in -gray or black, whose broad brims shadowed smooth-shaven, manly faces. -Trim little maidens too, and their quaint feminine relatives, waited -demurely on the spotless step, for the opening touch of a dark-skinned -hand within.</p> - -<p>It rarely happened that a newcomer entered without a pleasant greeting -to the elderly colored woman: “How is thee to-day, Hannah?” or, “I -am glad to find thee has conquered thy rheumatism”; which brought a -low-voiced<span class="pagenum" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</span> answer: “Thank thee; will thee go up to the second story, -or can I send thy bonnet?” This to the elder women, while the sweet -young damsels, in a happy subdued flutter, have turned to the guest -chamber to smooth their silken raiment, or possibly to venture so far -toward personal adornment as the fastening of a few white buds over -the dainty corsage. There was a little murmur of soft voices: the -expression of joy that Cassy and George had been blessed with such a -beautiful wedding day; the hope that Mary Anna Landers would be able to -reach there in time for the ceremony. “She always speaks so acceptably -to the young.” One told of a certain aged Friend in deep affliction -and the message that she bore from the dying bed to the gentle bride -whose helpful<span class="pagenum" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</span> hands had so often soothed the pain away. And thus, in -groups, the guests descended to the parlor, the straight long room -where a strong light from tall windows in front and rear was modified -by means of drab Venetian blinds. Between these windows hung, on one -hand, a modest engraving of William Penn, and upon the opposite wall -that of Elizabeth Fry. Both were framed in dark-colored wood, and the -benign expression of the gifted man, and the wealth of dignity in -the face of the celebrated philanthropist charmed in spite of their -austere surroundings. Upon a marble mantel, under a glass shade, -rested a clock, as white and cold as the slab beneath; a small basket -of delicate ferns, as if half ashamed of their vivid green, retired -behind the solemn mouth of a tall<span class="pagenum" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</span> undecorated silver candlestick. The -room was well-nigh filled with chairs placed in regular order, and -two hair-cloth sofas whose broad seats accommodated the elders of the -meeting. Directly below the picture of the venerable Penn were the -places designed for George and Cassy, straight-backed old oaken chairs, -that would be a delight to the antiquarian of to-day, and near the -right wall stood a small table upon which rested a roll of parchment, a -pen, and a substantial ink-well.</p> - -<p>One of the windows was open, and the fresh sweet air came in laden with -the noises of the street: the rumble of the carts, the click of hoofs -upon the sharp stone pavements, the distant cries of venders, and the -whistle of the locomotive. The light<span class="pagenum" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</span> breeze stirred the cap borders -and the kerchiefs of the placid women, who lifted their soft hands to -rearrange the muslin with the same instinct that prompts the care of -curl and ornament in their fashionable sisters. The parchment fluttered -to the ground, and in replacing it there was exposed to view a page of -exquisite penmanship, the great letters in ornate Old English hardly -belonging to Quaker simplicity.</p> - -<p>Meanwhile in the sitting room at the head of the first flight of stairs -there was a sweet picture. This apartment was so entirely an emanation -from the home life that the stiffness and coldness of the lower room -was totally lacking. The very loud tick of the old-fashioned mahogany -clock that stood in the corner had a sound of cheer. The little wood -fire on the hearth<span class="pagenum" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</span> gave out a welcome, and the half dozen rockers and -lounging chairs in gray and brown dress held open arms. A big Maltese -cat crouched by the rug, a few pencil sketches from the hand of a -favorite nephew graced the wall, and a heavy bookcase gave evidence -thro’ its glass door, of much substantial learning. There was a cluster -of periodicals on a stand, the clear title of “The Friend” recalling -their import; a stereo-scope with a tray of views, a basket of knitting -work, and, hanging on the back of a peculiar easy-chair, the round -pillow that betokens snatches of rest.</p> - -<p>Cassy was standing by the east window. The broad beams of the morning -sun were growing more direct, and fell with force over her delicate -form. Her gown of silver gray enveloped her like<span class="pagenum" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</span> mist, and chastened -the rising color. As she turned toward the advancing figure of the -bridegroom, her eyes suffused with tears. She held forth her hands and -said tremblingly, “Dear George, how earnestly I pray that our Heavenly -Father may ever guide me so that I walk aright, and fulfill toward -thee all the requirements of this holy relation.” Tenderly he kissed -her as he replied, “My soul is assured that thee never would have -been drawn so close to me were it not the will of the Divine Master:” -and presently when John and Martha entered they pressed the daughter -to their hearts and breathed upon the stalwart young man a blessing, -so full of emotion that the patience of awaiting Friends was quite -forgotten. Then the tall monitor on the corner, that had<span class="pagenum" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</span> marked the -hour of Cassy’s birth, gave warning of another epoch in her life.</p> - -<p>The company was seated as the little party entered the parlor. George -and Cassy advanced to the chairs assigned them, John and Martha next -their daughter, and the parents of George occupied a similar position -on the other side. There were a few minutes of absolute silence, then -the younger pair arose, joined hands, and in a clear unbroken voice the -bridegroom spoke these words:</p> - -<p>“In the presence of the Lord and this assembly, I, George Evans take -Cassy Wilson to be my wife, promising with Divine assistance to be -unto her a faithful and loving husband until death shall separate us;” -and after an instant’s pause, the bride, with a far-away look in her -sweet eyes,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</span> calmly repeated the same tender promise. Then they sat -down again, and presently a white-haired man, with so great revelation -of power in his face that it might almost have been called conscious -strength, appeared in supplication before the throne of grace. He -asked that the twain now made one might become nearer and dearer to -each other as time went on, and that in fulfillment of the claims of -the spirit, they might ever be ready to respond to the call of the -Bridegroom who cometh while it is yet night. For some moments after -the prayer had ended the company remained with bowed heads, and the -stillness was but gently broken by the movement of another honored -Friend, who came forward as a member of the committee appointed by the -monthly meeting,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</span> to be present at the marriage and report that all -proceedings had taken place in strict accordance with the rules of the -society. He now read aloud the certificate, heretofore lying on the -table, testifying to such regularity, and advancing to the bridal pair -requested them to affix their signatures. The pen was then passed to -the parents, and as each person present gave hands to the happy George -and Cassy, the same favor was extended. During the conclusion of this -ceremony, Cassy’s color had brightened with the congratulations and -gentle admonitions of these so dear to her, and before it was finished -the little buzz of friendly interest had wreathed the placid face in -smiles, and dried the tears that were almost too ready to start to the -eyes of the tender mother. No one was forgotten;<span class="pagenum" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</span> even the faithful -Hannah and the Cassius of long service added their irregular strokes -to the certificate, and Cassy caught up on her arm the three-year-old -guest, and guided his playful fingers over the smooth page.</p> - -<p>There was a quiet intimation that a collation was spread in an -adjoining apartment, and the thrifty folk, who scorn the embellishments -but not the substantials of life, did ample justice to the bounteous -repast, daintily served from the finest of linen, the clearest of -glasses, and the frailest of china. There was no spoken word of -thanksgiving, only a pause wherein their hearts might acknowledge the -mercies of the Giver of all Good. There was no haste, no indecorous -indulgence in the temptations of the table, but a cheerful, happy<span class="pagenum" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</span> -tone pervaded the company who regarded marriage not as the absorption -of one life by another, but as a true union of strong souls for the -furtherance of God’s holy purpose.</p> - -<p>As each guest departed, he or she was freighted with a package of -wedding cake for some friend or servant: “Maria, will thee kindly give -this to Eldridge Percy? We all feel to regret his absence, and trust -that he may be spared to meet with us once again.” “Philip, thee knows -how dear our Cassy was to Hagar the summer we spent at your home: thee -will not mind carrying her a bit of cake?”</p> - -<p>And when at length the hour of parting came, there was no long line of -merrymakers to hurl slippers and showers of rice after the retreating -carriage, but there<span class="pagenum" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</span> were last words spoken that dwelt in the hearts of -the earnest young husband and wife, and the injunction of the father -was a simple admonition to “search ever for the light that is revealed -in the soul”; and the loving children heard his brave voice reply to -the neighbor that regretted the distance that must henceforth separate -them: “I can safely trust my son and daughter in the hands of the Lord, -wheresoever he may lead them.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</span></p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</span></p> -<h2 class="nobreak" id="TWO_GENTLEWOMEN">TWO GENTLEWOMEN.</h2> -</div> - - -<div> - <img class="drop-cap" src="images/dc_t.jpg" width="100" height="113" alt=""> -</div> - -<p class="drop-cap"><span class="upper-case">The</span> square brick house with many windows, in the little village of -W., was called the “Mountain Place,” both from the name of one of its -occupants, and also from its situation, which was the most conspicuous -point in town.</p> - -<p>The owner was a rich manufacturer, who had for many years placed it at -the disposal of his two widowed sisters less prosperous, financially, -than himself.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Letitia Mountain’s family lived on the lower floor in a commodious -suite of “apartments,” hardly known as such in that day,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</span> when any -respectable person was supposed to occupy, or furnish, an entire -dwelling, but the idiosyncracy was in this case excused on ground of a -peculiar attachment existing between the sisters.</p> - -<p>The double parlors, with high ceiling and heavy folding doors, were -forever resplendent in white china paint and velvet paper, and the -visitor felt almost obliged to observe the extreme complexity of -the figure on the carpet, evidently designed for homes of heroic -proportions.</p> - -<p>The upper rooms were far less imposing, and thus better suited to the -smaller purse and household of the elder sister, Mrs. Honora Plum. -This poor lady endured much from the companionship of a stepdaughter, -ill-tempered and idle, and reflecting the blaze of an ancient -escutcheon<span class="pagenum" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</span> stained by vice, for Mrs. Plum had married the younger son -of a titled English gentleman.</p> - -<p>Nothing of the regret from which she must have suffered ever passed her -lips, and her patient smile sweetened the loaf which she so generously -shared with the woman whose only claim was the name she bore.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Mountain’s past, on the contrary, was delightful to contemplate. A -happy marriage in early life shed a halo over even the long illness and -death of a beloved husband; but neither this break in the tide of joy, -nor the sorrows of Honora, ever darkened the light of true sister love -that doubled their present portion of helpfulness and cheer.</p> - -<p>Both ladies were short and dark, with large brown eyes which never lost -their sparkle, and well-formed<span class="pagenum" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</span> lips that kept a rosy color into late -years.</p> - -<p>Fashion forever stamps some part of Nature’s work as reprehensible, -and at the period of which I write, the gray locks that represent -intensity of feeling as often as age were considered unfit to be seen -by the world. So the heavy silken bands that graced the brows of both -sisters were closely covered with beribboned caps, and bordered with -“false fronts” of dusky hair, coiled on each side over two small combs, -forming stiff and ungainly puffs that did not seem to belong to the -little women, but to which they were so much attached that one never -admitted the other to her chamber until the structure was erected, or a -huge nightcap entirely concealed the absence of it.</p> - -<p>Far more suitable would have<span class="pagenum" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</span> been the simplicity of the Friend’s -costume, which bore a wondrous charm for them, as the dress of their -beloved mother. But the sisters had wandered from the fold, each -had married “out of meeting” and thereby forfeited her birthright -membership; and having renounced the worship of their fathers, they -also felt it incumbent to robe themselves somewhat according to the -fashion of the world’s people, but the “Stranger” air which marked -their devotions before a “hireling ministry” also clung to their -garments.</p> - -<p>It was a little pitiful, this estrangement from their early religious -associations, and perchance it might have been their greatest pleasure -to return to the fold when the days of their widowhood came, but the -meeting was held in a remote district of the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</span> township, and neither -of the sisters was robust. For this reason they made a church home in -the nearest house of worship, and carried thither so much of their -elementary religion as wrought daily miracles of love and patience.</p> - -<p>They were charitable to a degree almost beyond praise, and the fine -bearing, the impressive presence of the little pair, could have come -from nothing else than a realization of noble attributes.</p> - -<p>The annals of New York indeed would be incomplete without mention of -the exceeding service rendered the State in time of need by a rich -Quaker, who steadfastly refused any public recognition, but whose death -was everywhere heralded as that of a man combining in his character -modesty and rare worth.</p> - -<p>Perhaps it was the consciousness<span class="pagenum" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</span> of being heir to these virtues that -led Honora into a false conception of the inheritance of her husband, -but the painful knowledge of her error never lessened her understanding -of the motto “Noblesse oblige.”</p> - -<p>Everybody forgave the sisters their touch of pride since both its -source and outcome were of such purity, but it was almost pathetic to -hear their personal disavowal of merit, attributing all things of worth -in their admirable womanhood to their ancestry, and when, in the days -of her children’s youth, Mrs. Mountain found it necessary to chastise -them, the rod was considered far less severe than a reminder that -through misdemeanor they were sullying the family record.</p> - -<p>It was a matter of deep regret to both Honora and Letitia that<span class="pagenum" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</span> they -had no sons. The former was childless, and the latter had buried her -boys in infancy, but it was a consolation that the marriage of their -brother, late in life, had resulted in securing a continuance of the -honored line.</p> - -<p>Hospitality was one of the inherited virtues. The fruit cake jar -was never allowed to become empty, and on such holidays as were not -bespoken by their brother, their separate tables were surrounded by the -impecunious old and young of their acquaintance.</p> - -<p>So long as Mrs. Mountain’s daughters remained unmarried there was an -abundance of merrymaking, but after they had gone to homes of their own -this youthful element was greatly missed. Mrs. Plum’s stepdaughter was -too grim to be social, and gradually<span class="pagenum" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</span> the lives of the sisters fell -into a routine.</p> - -<p>Certain days in the month were devoted to family visits. The rector -was entertained by them alternately, at stated periods, and once -every fortnight they dressed themselves in stiff silks and real -laces, and went through the formality of returning calls. No doubt -the conversation was as little varied as the wardrobe, yet it was a -pleasing duty, faithfully performed.</p> - -<p>They had been educated like the majority of well-to-do women of -that period, but this was far from developing a love of study—that -progressive intelligence which furnishes the ladies of the present with -unfailing entertainment.</p> - -<p>Nothing, therefore, was a greater satisfaction to them than the daily -visits of an old and respected colonel, living on a large<span class="pagenum" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</span> farm just -beyond the border of the town.</p> - -<p>He rode to the post office every morning on a white horse, quite as -stiff in his joints as his master, and it was one of the duties of the -postman to respond to the timely cough of the colonel by carrying out -the scanty mail, if such there chanced to be. The soldierly salutation -repaid him a hundred-fold for this small attention, while the colonel -turned his horse toward Mountain Place.</p> - -<p>He was so prompt in all his proceedings that the servant prepared -herself, at ten o’clock, to answer the summons of the enormous brass -knocker, and with as much dignity as if he had come with a message of -state, the ruddy man inquired for “the ladies.” Then, as he entered the -hall, he graciously relieved any embarrassment<span class="pagenum" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</span> by mentioning “Mrs. -Mountain’s parlor, if you please,” or “Mrs. Plum’s drawing room,” -alternating day by day. Immediately the lady presiding arose and -greeted him as though he was recently returned from a foreign mission, -and in the next breath spoke to the servant, who had long ago learned -to await this direction: “Ask Mrs. Plum if it will be convenient to -come down, Colonel Gray is here,” or “My compliments to Mrs. Mountain.”</p> - -<p>The newcomer then formally welcomed the second sister, carefully asked -after her health, and conversation became general.</p> - -<p>An hour, sometimes two, the colonel’s horse stood in the wind and -weather awaiting his agreeable master, but if, as rarely happened, the -latter limit was transgressed, a loud neighing brought<span class="pagenum" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</span> the gentleman -to his feet. “Ladies, I have had a most entertaining morning; duty -alone calls me from your side. Allow me to wish you good-day.”</p> - -<p>In the afternoon as the sisters sat by the front window knitting socks -for the poor, or daintily stitching some fine muslin for a baby’s -outfit, they discussed the Colonel’s visit.</p> - -<p>“Letitia, I am sorry brother does not like the Colonel.”</p> - -<p>They never disagreed, and from a constant desire to emphasize, each the -opinion of the other, there had grown a habit of repetition.</p> - -<p>“Yes, Honora, I wish brother did incline toward the Colonel.”</p> - -<p>“I cannot understand his objection. Colonel Grey is a gentleman, and -an excellent provider.”</p> - -<p>This term embraced a multitude<span class="pagenum" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</span> of small virtues, chiefly that of -generosity toward his immediate family, and to Mrs. Mountain and Mrs. -Plum, the man who failed in this respect had better not be alluded to.</p> - -<p>It was a little strange that they knew the Colonel’s household habits, -for he lived alone with an aged housekeeper and her husband, and it was -only at long intervals that he opened his doors to his friends, albeit -he was justly proud of the frequent honor he enjoyed of “drinking a -dish of tea” at the Mountain Place, and on these occasions he never -forgot to be strictly impartial in his attentions, and addressed his -conversation first to one, then to the other of the sisters.</p> - -<p>Like the entire village population, he was well aware that to these -ladies everyone looked for<span class="pagenum" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</span> advice, and indeed for intelligent nursing. -So frequent were the midnight calls for services that one of the -servant’s regular duties was the disposition at nightfall of their -hoods, cloaks, and lantern conveniently near the front door.</p> - -<p>A reference to this formed a staple joke between the friends, and -Letitia frequently asserted (and it was repeated by Honora) that in -case of illness at “Moss Farm,” they would consider themselves engaged.</p> - -<p>Perhaps the good Colonel had more than a jest at heart when he referred -to the matter, for the ills of life come surely in train of age, and -the summons reached Mountain Place on an early morning of September. It -was a shock to the ladies, this forerunner of a parting from one who -had been so stanch a friend, and so inconsiderate<span class="pagenum" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</span> a visitor, as their -brother insisted.</p> - -<p>Just as the carryall came in sight of the Colonel’s homestead, the -first twitter of awakening birds brought a new sense of life and -activity into the world. The dark forest behind the house sent forth a -thousand notes of welcome to the day, and the clear spring, where the -old horse turned to drink, added its gentle murmur.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Mountain was touched, her eyes moistened.</p> - -<p>“Alas!” she said, noting the movement of the old gray, “the world never -stops for any of us. The birds sing, the horse wants to drink, the -sunlight flashes over the farm, just as if the good man that has lived -so long to lighten the cares of others, was not passing away.”</p> - -<p>“Passing away! Yes, passing<span class="pagenum" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</span> away,” and the solemn voice of her sister, -seemed like an echo from the hills.</p> - -<p>It was the usual trouble, a shock of paralysis, and the faithful doctor -gave little encouragement, yet he thought it possible the Colonel’s -speech might become clear again, and when the stupor that enthralled -the poor man had passed, the pale eye wandered about the room. Words -were unnecessary, the watchers understood that he wanted a hand laid -in his own, and Letitia gently slid her soft palm beneath the chilled -fingers. Honora as promptly took her place at the other side, stroking -the withered arm that lay motionless upon the bed.</p> - -<p>The doctor opened the window, and as the delicious breath of the pines -crept in, the sick man stirred. He moved his head restlessly.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</span> But -when Mrs. Mountain would have left her place to rearrange his pillows, -suddenly his tongue loosed and he spoke, feebly indeed, and with an -effort, but the words fell distinctly upon the listeners.</p> - -<p>“Years ago, I wanted—I intended she should be my wife if——” He -stopped. Presently he gave evidence that the same thought was still in -his mind.</p> - -<p>“Yes,” he murmured, “but I love her just as well.”</p> - -<p>The doctor moistened the dry lips, and the sisters both moved as if to -assist, but one lifeless hand pressed heavily, and the poor member with -a little vitality motioned Mrs. Mountain not to stir.</p> - -<p>So they remained, while hour after hour went by.</p> - -<p>The noonday was upon them<span class="pagenum" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</span> when again the old face brightened and the -quavering voice said slowly:</p> - -<p>“Yes, yes, I love her just as well.”</p> - -<p>The silence that followed was not broken again, and soon the faithful -sisters spread the white sheet over the dear dead.</p> - -<p>That night, as they sat together in Mrs. Mountain’s stately parlor, -Honora said with a sigh:</p> - -<p>“Perhaps, Letitia, it is just as well the Colonel never spoke to you -about marriage. His family was not so good as our own, but I thought it -strange he could see you so often and not love you.”</p> - -<p>And Letitia startled Mrs. Plum by contradicting her.</p> - -<p>“Child alive, Honora! I always knew the Colonel loved the ground you -trod on.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</span></p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</span></p> -<h2 class="nobreak" id="OUR_LITTLE_NEIGHBORS">OUR LITTLE NEIGHBORS.</h2> -</div> - -<p class="center big">A first of April story.</p> - - -<div> - <img class="drop-cap" src="images/dc_j.jpg" width="100" height="113" alt=""> -</div> - -<p class="drop-cap"><span class="upper-case">Jerry</span> came in one spring morning wearing a very triumphant air. He -caught the baby from the floor and tossed him as he said:</p> - -<p>“Well, Kittie, I have taken the house.”</p> - -<p>“Have you, dear? Now do just tell me all about it. Is it ‘The Cottage -by the Sea’ or a ‘cobble-stone front’ at Riverdale? Have you plenty -of neighbors, and a garden spot, and what rent? Pray don’t keep me in -suspense!”</p> - -<p>An amused smile passed over his face as he seated himself.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</span></p> - -<p>“Let me see, question No. 1. Is it the ‘Cottage by the Sea?’ Yes, if -you choose, for the ocean is only three miles away; just a lovely drive -or even walk through delicious pine wood. A ‘cobble-stone front?’ No, -thank you. A small plain wooden box, of a dull gray color, well suited -to its neighbors, for there is quite a community of Quakers in the -vicinity. Neighbors near? Yes, decidedly, as our share is only half -the box, after all. It was built for a summer home for two brothers, -the Allens, next door to us, you know. Caleb cannot leave town this -year, so we can occupy his quarters. Garden spot? Oh, yes; abundantly -large, but all in one inclosure. The house is regularly divided, but -the grounds are not. Don’t look worried, little wife; you and I and the -baby are<span class="pagenum" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</span> not likely to be troublesome, and I am sure Joseph Allen’s -staid household will behave itself.”</p> - -<p>And so on the “First of April” we moved. My costume was considerably -demoralized when we reached our summer home. The baby had quite -destroyed all the beauty my hat ever had, and my small nephew, who had -insisted upon going to visit us the first day, was so timid in crossing -the river that he clung to my draperies with too much fervor, and I -presume that I was an object of pity to the few ladies in the cabin. -Certain it is that I felt decidedly shabby, tired, and perhaps a trifle -out of humor as I entered the cottage door and dropped my heavy boy -on the clean, but carpetless floor. Bridget soon made her appearance -with a list of the casualties, and as Jerry had not yet arrived,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</span> I was -growing very gloomy when a light tap at the side entrance caused me to -spring to my feet.</p> - -<p>What a picture of simplicity and purity stood before me! I blushed at -the contrast which my disordered finery presented! Here on my doorstep -were two little wrens (I could call them nothing else, although they -were certainly girls), one just a trifle taller and larger than the -other; both with soft pink cheeks and brown hair cut close on the neck -and parted smoothly and evenly, without a suggestion of crimp or curl. -Their dresses were of a drab color, just visible below long white -aprons, on which there was not even a superfluous button! Their linen -sunbonnets boasted of no ruffles, and the colored stockings, which -peeped from beneath<span class="pagenum" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</span> their rather long dresses, were of the same shade. -Little gray birds, with just such shy little ways!</p> - -<p>The elder one looked up timidly and held toward me a basket, saying:</p> - -<p>“Mother sent thee this lunch.”</p> - -<p>“And don’t forget, Sallie,” whispered the younger, “don’t forget about -the baby.”</p> - -<p>“Thee can ask that, Debby.”</p> - -<p>The only worldly looking feature between them was Debby’s blue eyes, -and they sparkled and ran riot in spite of her, but her mouth was very -serious as she asked:</p> - -<p>“Would it not relieve thee if Sally and I were to ’tend the baby?” then -glancing at my company, “the children, I mean, while thee lies down on -mother’s bed.”</p> - -<p>My eyes filled with tears at the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</span> thoughtfulness of these strangers. I -had never known anything about “Quakers” before.</p> - -<p>The baby was ready enough to exchange Bridget’s charms for the dainty -little ladies’, and I clasped each of his small hands in Debby’s, but -instantly she transferred one-half her treasure to sister Sally, who -turned demurely, and said:</p> - -<p>“Thank thee. We will watch over him, and presently, if thee thinks -best, I can give him some milk.”</p> - -<p>They had not quite reached the garden when Johnny burst forth. In great -wrath he was indeed.</p> - -<p>“Do they fink I am a baby!” he roared out. “Get my cap, I want to go on -the boat again!”</p> - -<p>“On the boat, Johnny!”</p> - -<p>He colored, and remembering his terror, revenged himself upon me by -saying:</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</span></p> - -<p>“I s’pose the reason they calls me chillen is ’cause they’s such ole -womans demselves;” and having flung his parting shot he walked off with -great dignity.</p> - -<p>A moment later he was lunching superbly from cold chicken and apple -tart out of the “’ole womans’” basket! Such is mortal man!</p> - -<p>Although I felt inclined to decline my little neighbor’s invitation -to “lie down on mother’s bed,” it was a great help to me to have the -baby so well cared for, and Bridget’s stout arms ready to stretch and -nail carpets. Down they went rapidly, and was it the fresh breeze from -the ocean, wafted through the pine trees, or was it the glass of rich -Jersey milk that toned me up to such a cheery condition that, when -Jerry’s step sounded on the gravel, I rushed<span class="pagenum" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</span> to meet him, singing -“Home, Sweet Home”?</p> - -<p>The good man was delighted with my progress, and especially with my -report of the lovely little neighbors, which I lingered over.</p> - -<p>“And where are they now, Kittie?”</p> - -<p>“Let us go quietly out to the garden and see, for I am sure I do not -intend to impose on good nature by giving over baby entirely to them.”</p> - -<p>The tall drooping willow tree in the grass plot sheltered a lovely -group. Baby mine, sound asleep in the big clothes basket, was snugly -tucked up and protected by the little ladies, attended by that fickle -youth, Master Johnny. His squeaky voice was plainly heard explaining -the mysteries of Cat’s Cradle and Wood Sawyer.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</span> But in a moment more he -called wildly:</p> - -<p>“Ain’t that a big snake on the baby?” His companions sprang forward -hurriedly, but the vicious boy only replied, “April Fool.” The two -girls hung their heads and colored. I held my breath. I could not -believe they did not understand the joke. It was only an instant, and -then Sally, laying her soft hand on stupid little Johnny’s head, said -in the silvery voice, so low and clear:</p> - -<p>“Dear, could thee not just as <span class="pagenum" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</span>well say ‘Fourth Month Dunce’?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</span></p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</span></p> -<h2 class="nobreak" id="PAMELIA_TEWKSBURYS_COURTSHIP">PAMELIA TEWKSBURY’S COURTSHIP.</h2> -</div> - - -<div> - <img class="drop-cap" src="images/dc_i.jpg" width="100" height="113" alt=""> -</div> - -<p class="drop-cap"><span class="upper-case">In</span> a certain section of Central New York the contour of the hills forms -a remarkable resemblance to a huge <em>pitcher</em>, and by this name the -region has long been known.</p> - -<p>A few years since my husband and I, with a young son, took a delightful -outing through that locality. Having our own horses and carriage, -we made a very leisurely journey, aiming always for a comfortable -resting place at night, and bearing away with us each morning a hamper -containing luncheon for ourselves and a<span class="pagenum" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</span> bag of oats for the ponies. -Thus equipped, we traversed the distance to our next lodging according -to our daily whim; picnicking at noon, in true gypsy fashion, beneath -some pine trees, or beside a rippling stream; turning from coffee and -sandwiches to a delicious course of “Humorous Sketches,” or a siesta -upon pine boughs.</p> - -<p>Many comical adventures had we. It was difficult to convince the -country people, who often stopped to chat with us, that this was -recreation. They invariably demanded a legitimate reason for such -unusual proceedings, and more than one inquiring visitor searched the -light vehicle for some wares that he had “made sure” we were peddling.</p> - -<p>Genuine offers of hospitality were not wanting, and many a<span class="pagenum" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</span> pedestrian -found a seat in the comfortable little carriage.</p> - -<p>It so happened one morning that my husband was somewhat bewildered by -the conjunction of several roads, and seeing in advance of us a sturdy -figure moving forward at a good pace we hurried to overtake it. At the -sound of approaching wheels, and the words “My friend, can thee tell me -just where <em>Pitcher</em> lies?” a genial countenance was turned toward -us.</p> - -<p>“Wal, I reckon, this here,” indicating the abrupt hills just before us, -“is the handle. What part be ye looking fer?”</p> - -<p>He had a ruddy face, very grizzly as to beard, and when he removed -his weather-worn hat his smooth, bald crown, with a fringe of white -curls, seemed an unfit accompaniment for the twinkling<span class="pagenum" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</span> eyes of deep -blue—such eyes as one sometimes sees in babies, wholly undimmed by -care or tears.</p> - -<p>“Why, I really don’t know,” laughed my husband; “I was directed to -Hosmer’s Inn.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, ho! that’s atwixt the nose and the swell. Now ye are smiling, and -well ye may; but just step out here and ye can see that God A’mighty -shaped a perfecter pitcher out of them hills than most men can turn on -a wheel—no, ye can’t drive nigh to this stump, and that’s whar yer -woman wants to stand.”</p> - -<p>He helped us all to alight, gave me his hand as I climbed to the top of -the stump, and pointed with his thumb to a rise of ground far in the -rear.</p> - -<p>“That thar’s the rim, being what the pitcher ought to rest on if the -Lord had sot it on end.”<span class="pagenum" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</span> There was no possible irreverence in his -tone. “Hereabouts,” a rolling section nearer us, “is the swell. Just -across Bub’s left shoulder lies the nose, and here right for’ard is the -beginning of the handle. Foller it—see it curves jest so.”</p> - -<p>It was very plain, and we all expressed our complete understanding of -the “lay of the land.”</p> - -<p>“There is jest four p’ints where you can see the whole figger to onct. -Here, by this hick’ry stump; yander, north of the nose; south of them -pines ye see, and kinder back of the rim. Them’s all, but it’s worth a -journey—and I take it ye are travelers—to see how darned perfect the -thing is. Looked to right, it couldn’t be beat; and I reckon, somehow, -it’s about so with the most of God A’mighty’s doin’s—ef<span class="pagenum" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</span> we look to -’em <em>right</em> they’re about perfect, that’s all there is of it.”</p> - -<p>My husband thanked the old man cordially and invited him to ride with -us if his route lay that way.</p> - -<p>“Wal, now, I don’t care ef I do, squire. Ye hev the speech of the -Quakers and them’s mighty good folk, and it haint often nowadays that -I get behind two such spankin’ roans as them be. Nor,” as he clambered -into the front seat, “nor nigh so sensible a looking woman—yer wife, -maybe?”</p> - -<p>“Yes; this is my wife and son.”</p> - -<p>“It’s a darned good thing to hev yer wife with ye, along in life. I -haint never had one yit,” he added evasively.</p> - -<p>We all smiled, but the old man didn’t notice it. My husband spoke of -the crops, of the fine air<span class="pagenum" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</span> and good water. Our visitor answered in -monosyllables. At last, pointing to a white gleam in the distance, he -said, almost gleefully:</p> - -<p>“Now, thar’s a woman livin’ in that house, that I cal’late to call my -wife one o’ these days; but time an’t come yet.”</p> - -<p>“How so?” asked I, rather hastily, I fear, for I scented a romance.</p> - -<p>“Wal, it’s a long story, but ef ye an’t amiss I’d jest as lief tell it. -We’re mor’n six miles from Hosmer’s.” And with this little introduction -the story proceeded.</p> - -<p>“It was in 1846 that I first come to the nose. Our farm lay afar off -to the rim—a little mite further. But our deestric wa’n’t a-goin’ to -keep no school that winter; so I up and asked father ef I dassent go -off somewheres and get a job o’ chores fer my board, and so<span class="pagenum" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</span> git one -more term of schoolin’. He hadn’t no objections, and kinder thought -it over, and spoke about Deacon Hinman at the nose being laid up with -<em>teesick</em> and reckoned how he might want me. So I packed my big -red han’kercher full o’ traps and socks and shirts, and away I come. -I can see myself now a-bobbin’ up and down this very lane. It wa’n’t -worked by team then, and it was full o’ yaller-rod and spikenet, for it -had been an awful pretty fall. So I, like a boy—and I love to pick ’em -yit—hung a posy bed around my neck, and clean forgot it when I knocked -at the deacon’s side door. And what do ye think? The durndest prettiest -gal up and opened it. I never was so took back. I allers knowed Deacon -Hinman hadn’t no darters; and there she stood and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</span> me a-meachin’, till -all at once she said:</p> - -<p>“‘A-peddlin’ posies?’</p> - -<p>“Then my feelin’ came back, and I answered her quick: ‘Do you like ’em?’</p> - -<p>“And she took ’em, and was a-turnin’ away as red as a piny herself when -I recollected the deacon’s teesick. So I stepped in the room and sot -down on the settee, and says I: ‘How’s the deacon?’</p> - -<p>“‘He’s abed,’ says she.</p> - -<p>“‘Got a man around?’</p> - -<p>“‘Ef we haint it’s none o’ your business. I’m man enough to tell ye -that, and if ye haint got nothin’ better to do than to sass folks and -string posies ’round yer neck, I’d thank ye to git up and go.’</p> - -<p>“I do not know as I ever heard Pamely Tewksbury say so much to onct in -all my days since, fer<span class="pagenum" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</span> she a’nt no talker; but, land’s sake, didn’t -she skeer me, and didn’t she look purty! I kinder shook all over, so I -scarce got tongue to tell her who I was and what fetched me. She was -ashamed enough then; I see it in her eyes, but she didn’t never tell -me. No, sir. That a’nt her way.</p> - -<p>“The deacon’s wife came in jest then, half a-cryin’, for the cow had -kicked her, and it didn’t take long afore we struck a bargain, and -in the evenin’s she told me all about the deacon’s teesick and her -rheumatiz; but the only thing I could remember was that the gal was the -deacon’s niece come to live with them, and her name was Pamely.</p> - -<p>“My! how that winter flew by. I don’t reckon I l’arned a great deal -to school, but I knew jest how many sticks of wood het the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</span> stove up -right to bake, and how to plan to git time fer the churning Saturdays, -and to turn out the wash-water Monday nights fer a gal who never said -tire—but I couldn’t a-bear to see them little arms a-liftin’ so.</p> - -<p>“Summer time come, and the deacon wa’n’t no better, and father said -how I’d better stay and hire out for hayin’. I was a powerful worker -then—I can mow my swath pretty reg’lar now—and I was a powerful big -eater, too; but there wa’n’t no lack of vittles. The deacon was allers -a good provider, and Pamely was a rare cook.”</p> - -<p>Here he paused, and turning toward the white speck, now grown into a -distinct homestead, he said gravely:</p> - -<p>“Ef ye was to put up there this very day, and no one a-knowin’ of yer -comin’, <em>she’d</em> set ye afore<span class="pagenum" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</span> as good a meal at an hour’s notice -as ever Hosmer sot for two dollars and a half a day.” Then the story -went on.</p> - -<p>“At first I used to talk to Pamely some, but after a while every time I -tried to speak somethin’ crammed in my throat, and it got to be so that -I dassent try to talk. Evenin’s I jest sot and whittled mush-sticks -out of white pine, till she bu’st out one night, and says she: “S’pose -you think I’m goin’ to spile my mush every time with a new tastin’ -stirrer.” And she laughed till she had to go out the room; but what did -I care ef she used them stirrers fer kindlin’? I’d had my luck lookin’ -at her fingers fly a-sewin’ or a-knittin’, and I’ve got a pair of -double blue and white streaked mittens now that she made that winter. -It went along so fer ’bout<span class="pagenum" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</span> three year and more. I don’t think I keered -much fer time. I jest wanted to be a-earnin’, winter and summer, and -that was what it had come to, fer the deacon didn’t git much better, -and the wimmen folks couldn’t git along without me very well. They do -say now I’m dreffle handy; and so long’s Pamely set store by me, I was -all right. I declare to goodness, I clean forgot there was another -young man in Pitcher but me! But I had to wake up to it, arter all, and -I’ve wished a thousand times I had waked up sooner.</p> - -<p>“Pamely went off on a visit to her folks, and when she come back, -onexpected like, a feller fetched her. When I see him a-liftin’ her -outen the sleigh I felt like a-heavin’ a claw-hammer at him; but when -he turned round,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</span> and I saw what a putty-face he was, says I to myself, -‘Pshaw!’ Several times that winter he come, and set and set, and onct -I got up and was a-goin’ up the kitchen stairs when I felt somethin’ -in my heel. I sot down on the top step and pulled my stockin’ off, -a-lookin’ fer a tack or perhaps a broke-off needle, when all of a -sudden the door was ajar and they hadn’t spoke a word afore I heard Jim -Whiffles say: ‘I knowed a feller as went a-courtin’ one gal fer a whole -year.’</p> - -<p>“‘P’r’aps,’ said Pamely.</p> - -<p>“‘And she didn’t chuck him off neither.’</p> - -<p>“‘S’pose not.’</p> - -<p>“I tell you I listened close after that, but there was not a sound -until Jim shove his chair and got up to go and she took the candle to -the outside door, and then she<span class="pagenum" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</span> come in and went right off to bed.</p> - -<p>“Next mornin’ I looked at her sharper’n ever but I couldn’t see a -shadder on her cheek. She was jest as bloomin’ and as quiet as ever, -and I knowed she cared more fer my leetle finger than fer the whole of -Jim Whiffles’ body.</p> - -<p>“Next time he came it was near New Year’s and he sot a big red apple -plump in her lap; but she did not so much as say ‘thankee.’ I thought -she kinder of turned toward me, as much as to say, ‘Ef ye had done it, -all right.’</p> - -<p>“‘But I didn’t <em>know</em>, and I reckoned I needn’t begrudge Jim an -evenin’s lookin’ at her. So I off to bed ag’in. I was thinkin’ how -mean I had been about listenin’ on the stairs, when up through the -big stovepipe hole come these words, jerked out as<span class="pagenum" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</span> usual: ‘I think -sometime there’s goin’ to be a weddin’ up to our meetin’-house.’</p> - -<p>“‘Like as not.’</p> - -<p>“‘And I reckon Jim Whiffles is goin’ to pay the dominee.’</p> - -<p>“‘Likely.’</p> - -<p>“That was all. My heart beat so I thought they must hear it, so I -covered my head with the bed clothes, and in five minutes more he went -away, callin’ out as he drove off, ‘Good-night!’</p> - -<p>“I did not sleep much, but I kep’ up a thinkin’; and at last I made out -that nobody’d be such a fool as to ask a woman to have him that way; -and it must be Jim felt kinder sneakin’, arter visitin’ of her, and let -her know he was a-goin to marry Ary Edwards that I had heard tell he -went with. So I was comforted ag’in.</p> - -<p>“It wa’n’t more’n two weeks<span class="pagenum" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</span> afore I was took down with a fever. Pamely -nursed me night and day, and every time I see her I said to myself, -‘Jest the first time I’ve got strength to walk to the dominee’s house -we’ll be made happy.’ Dear little soul! What a good supper she laid -on the table the night I was so tired out with doin’ of the milkin’, -havin’ done nothin’ fer so long.</p> - -<p>“‘Ezra,’ she says, and her face flushed up; ‘Ezra eat. I’ve cooked it -fer you.’</p> - -<p>“I wanted to blurt right out then that I loved her, but I didn’t.</p> - -<p>“I had to tuck myself up mighty early, for I was clean beat out, and I -declare fer it, but I was jest fallin’ into a doze like when I heard -Jim Whiffles come. Pamely wa’n’t done the dishes, so she clattered -away, and at last sot down to knittin’. Nary one spoke<span class="pagenum" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</span> much, only to -tell a word or two about the snow storm that was a-brewin’. And I was -comforted ag’in, but it was short measure. When the clock had struck -nine Jim got up, and while he was puttin’ on his top coat I heard him -say:</p> - -<p>“‘Pamely, I was a-tellin’ ye last time I was here about Jim Whiffles -paying the preacher?’</p> - -<p>“‘Jest so.’</p> - -<p>“‘And you was the gal that the dominee told to love and obey her man.’</p> - -<p>“‘Jest so.’</p> - -<p>“I was breathless! Was there nothin’ more to come? I had almost made up -my mind that Jim was gone, when I caught the sound of a very decided -smack. Good Lord forgive me, but I fought with the devil that night!</p> - -<p>“Pamely and Jim Whiffles was<span class="pagenum" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</span> made one April 6, 1850. He fell heir to -some property, and she got a thousand dollars when her uncle died, and -a couple thousand more—in land—when Mrs. Hinman went off. So things -prospered with them. He was hardworkin’ kind of a putterer, but she was -a master hand to save, and them children all was like her—smart as a -steel trap.</p> - -<p>“Eight years come next Tuesday Jim Whiffles died. I didn’t need a -second lesson—Lord A’mighty knows how hard it come to me onct! and -I had loved Pamely right straight through. So, jest six months arter -Jim was laid away I made a kind of an errant up to her house, and the -very minnit I see her, it all came over me so I couldn’t help it, and I -screeched right out:</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</span></p> - -<p>“‘Pamely, hev me; do, fer goodness sake, say yes! Don’t you know I -allers wanted ye?’</p> - -<p>“She turned ’round, and her eyes was a-flashin’ when she answered:</p> - -<p>“‘<em>Allers?</em> And lived in the same house nigh onto four years? You -had first chance, and now you come whinin’ afore Jim’s cold.’</p> - -<p>“I sneaked off. I thought the Lord was ag’in me this time, but I jest -couldn’t give her up. I kep’ right on goin’. All the children one arter -another, has married and done well, and she boosted ’em all.</p> - -<p>“Last Sunday I was over there ag’in, and, somehow, I thought she kind -o’ squeezed my hand at meetin’; so I swelled up, and says I, ‘Pamely, -is Jim cold?’</p> - -<p>“And she answered back, ‘Yes.’”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</span></p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</span></p> -<h2 class="nobreak" id="SOME_ANTE-BELLUM_LETTERS_FROM_A_QUAKER_GIRL">SOME ANTE-BELLUM LETTERS FROM A QUAKER GIRL.</h2> -</div> - - -<p class="right"> -Ninth Mo., 27th.<br> -</p> - -<div> - <img class="drop-cap" src="images/dc_m.jpg" width="100" height="113" alt=""> -</div> - -<p class="drop-cap"><span class="upper-case">Mother</span> Dear: When first thy loved face faded from view as our carriage -left the crooked lane, my tears were inclined to flow, but Uncle Joseph -has much of dear father’s gentle manner, and he sought to turn my -attention to the objects around us.</p> - -<p>I will not pause now, to tell thee about the pleasures and pains of -the journey, for my poor head ached sadly ere we reached Boston, but -with all the interests that<span class="pagenum" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</span> surrounded my first long ride in the -railroad cars, I could not forget that I was going among comparative -strangers, and leaving the dearest spot on earth. I want now to give -thee a glimpse, if I can, of the life here, and ask whether or not thee -approves of the course I am pursuing.</p> - -<p>It was quite dark when we got to Uncle Joseph’s house, and I think I -had a little fear of meeting his wife, whom I can scarcely call “Aunt” -without an effort, so different is she from the simple women that I -love. Her very first greeting disturbed me, it was so extravagant, and -as full of embraces as if she had always known me; but she was very -kind when she learned that my head ached, and supported me tenderly to -my chamber, where she helped me undress, and then with her own<span class="pagenum" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</span> hands, -although they have several domestics, brought me a bit of toast and -tea. I was sorry to disappoint her but I could not taste it, and she -exclaimed petulantly, yet I may have mistaken the tone:</p> - -<p>“Bless me, child, you are too young to have whims—and it is my duty to -see that you keep the roses in your cheeks, or where will the lovers -be? Sit up now, and eat your supper.”</p> - -<p>I am afraid I betrayed the astonishment I felt, but, dear mother, -<em>thee</em> could never speak thus, and—I did <em>not</em> eat the toast!</p> - -<p>Next morning I was out in the garden marveling over the wondrous beauty -of their surroundings, when Uncle Joseph came to look for me. His is a -very sweet spirit, and I may be wrong, but there is pity in my heart -for him.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</span> Not that Aunt Élise (as she calls it, although I should -pronounce it Eliza) does not try to do her duty by him, but that her -education has given her false standards.</p> - -<p>She was surprised to see me at breakfast, and asked why I had not -called “the maid” to help me dress. I replied that I needed no one, and -that thee and father believed that it was best to wait upon ourselves; -then she held up her finger glistening with jewels, and said:</p> - -<p>“Tut, tut! I fear we have a rebel to deal with, and rebels are never -attractive. No, no, <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">ma petite</i> (which means little one), the maid -<em>must</em> assist you. She is from Paris, and knows the <em>art</em> of -dressing, which country girls know nothing about, and I want to send -you home with a lover and a trousseau, and that could <em>never</em> be -if<span class="pagenum" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</span> you comb your curls out, and wear a gray frock.”</p> - -<p>I believe she means to be kind to me, and is not at all disagreeable, -even though I cannot seem pleased.</p> - -<p>Well the day passed quickly by, for I was charmed with their green lawn -running down to the river-side, and a little hedge of white hawthorn, -that I am sure would delight thee. Toward evening aunt invited me to -drive into the city with her and bring Uncle Joseph home. They do not -have dinner until seven o’clock, which seems very late to me; but -about one, or a little before, we have a nice meal which I thought was -dinner, until I was told to call it lunch. Aunt herself says it is -breakfast.</p> - -<p>The roads are so pretty, fine houses on every hand. It only<span class="pagenum" id="Page_94">[Pg 94]</span> seems to -me that there is an air of extravagance, which I deprecate, for there -seem to be no small and unpretentious homes, until the city is reached, -and there everything is so dreary! I am sure I should get lost very -easily, for Boston’s streets are as crooked as Philadelphia’s are -straight. I said to aunt that I should hardly dare for some time to -come to town alone, and she answered:</p> - -<p>“Never, I trust. It is highly improper for a pretty young girl to go -out without an attendant.”</p> - -<p>I am sure <em>thee</em> never thought thus. Perhaps she was but trying to -play upon my vanity.</p> - -<p>I think the neighborhood must be a pleasant one just about Uncle -Joseph, for yesterday a number of persons called, and spoke kindly to -me. Toward four o’clock one of the young women<span class="pagenum" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</span> asked aunt’s permission -for me to accompany her in a walk by the river. Soon after we left the -house we came upon a group of young men, and my companion explained to -them that she had succeeded in getting me away from my guardian, and -then she gave me the names of the party, and I was surprised to know -that two of them belonged to the old and respected families of A. and -H. It seemed strange to mingle with the descendants of revolutionary -times, and perhaps I expressed a little of the awe I felt, when I -acknowledged their presence.</p> - -<p>Thee has often told me that the Lord is no respecter of persons, -and warned me against doing honor to anything mortal. Perhaps I -have received a severe lesson, for I soon found that this<span class="pagenum" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</span> was a -premeditated excursion on the water, and there was a deal of laughter -over the ease with which Anna W. had outwitted my aunt. Thee can -imagine my discomfiture, both at finding myself in a false position -and also at the discovery of their willingness to engage in deceit. -Oh, mother, how have the mighty fallen! When I became conscious of the -whole situation I said, just as I would have said to thee:</p> - -<p>“If there is any doubt about my aunt’s willingness to have me go -with you, I must go back at once.” And can thee believe it? <em>they -laughed</em>, and off the boat started.</p> - -<p>Of course there was nothing to do but make the best of it. I tried to -talk to young A. about his famous great-grandfather—but he seemed not -to know much<span class="pagenum" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</span> about him, and when I spoke of his nobility of character, -the young man looked bewildered, and said if there had ever been -anything of that kind in the family, it had died out.</p> - -<p>I began to think so, too, as the afternoon went on—for he puzzled me -greatly. All of these young men are being educated at Harvard College, -yet they did not appear to regard their opportunities as unusual, and -their references to the professors were not respectful. Edward H. -inquired whether I read French and on my saying yes, he at once asked -me if I had a good pony—and I told him I did not ride on horseback at -all, which seemed to amuse them greatly, and Anna afterward explained -that a <em>pony</em> was a translation—a key of the whole lesson which -the teachers do not expect<span class="pagenum" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</span> them to use, but which nearly the entire -class possess.</p> - -<p>We talked about the matter a little, and I said I should not think one -could learn anything thus, and Edward H. replied “<em>That</em> is not -what we go to Harvard for!”</p> - -<p>How strange it sounded! And yet it was not so distressing to me as -the discovery that these young men have absolutely no interest in -anti-slavery movements. They talked about Garrison and Phillips as -fanatics, and said “This meddling with other people’s concerns is a -very dangerous business.”</p> - -<p>I ventured to ask “And was it not ‘meddling’ to throw the tea -overboard.”</p> - -<p>But they said I was getting too deep for them. And then F. A. told -me that only a very insignificant part of Boston people respected<span class="pagenum" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</span> -the Abolitionists. This new party they admitted has an anti-slavery -wing, but that it must be clipped or we shall have trouble. “Trouble” -I cried—and I admit, mother dear, that I talked perhaps, more than I -ought—“how can a man rest easy without troubling the public conscience -about the poor slaves.” A. tried to show me that the best way to -eradicate slavery is to be on good terms with the slaveholders, and -have no concern for the black man, who is only an animal—I think he -said—after all, and when it proves itself a failure in a business -sense, as he admitted it must be, then slavery will die out!</p> - -<p>Not a spark of humanity about him, not a thought of God’s suffering -children, only a fear of disturbing business relations with a rich -section! My heart stood<span class="pagenum" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</span> almost still with astonishment. Here in -Boston, where I had looked for the broadest humanity and the clearest -intelligence, here on the lips of the descendant of a great patriot -were words of cowardice and self-seeking!</p> - -<p>When at last the boat turned about, and the young men gave Anna W. and -myself lessons in rowing, we came again to the little landing, and -there on the bank stood aunt in search of us.</p> - -<p>I felt mortified, and would have explained only that I could not -reproach others, and I expected her to reprimand me, but lo! she only -shook her finger and said:</p> - -<p>“Well, girls will be girls, and even a pretty Quakeress is not proof -against temptation.” How I wanted to tell the whole story! But, mother -dear, I did not. Was I wrong? And the young men<span class="pagenum" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</span> went away and my -cheeks burned as aunt called after them, “I know you will want to see -those roses again.”</p> - -<p>Good-night dear, dear mother.</p> - -<hr class="tb"> - -<p class="right"> -Tenth Mo., 30th.<br> -</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">My Dear Mother</span>: I know thee will not feel it to be wrong for -me to tell thee of my trials as well as my pleasures, for thee has -taught me that nothing is too small a matter to lay before our Heavenly -Father, and in many respects I am puzzled by the new life I am leading -here. Particularly do I regret having to think, and even to dwell upon, -questions concerning money. That is, as thee has said, a necessity of -our physical being, but must ever be relegated to the background in our -thoughts. Uncle Joseph has asked me several times already<span class="pagenum" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</span> whether my -purse was not empty, but although I have answered with a laugh that I -did not see the bottom yet, I feel that I have been a little lavish, -and of course I cannot permit another to purchase for me the luxuries -which my pleasure-loving heart alone demands.</p> - -<p>If thee wishes thee may send me some more, but should it prove -inconvenient to do so, merely mention such to be the case, and I will -absent myself from those excursions that are likely to be expensive.</p> - -<p>I have been much mortified more than once already, by Edward H. or F. -A. paying where I am concerned.</p> - -<p>The first time this occurred was the day we sailed in the harbor. There -were car fares, and boat tickets to be purchased, and I<span class="pagenum" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</span> awaited Anna -W.’s movement, before getting out my purse. To my surprise she said -nothing about it, and the young men bought everything for us all. I -estimated the cost at about a dollar apiece, which thee sees is quite -an item when figured for four. So at the close of the day, for we had -lunch and all, I spoke to Edward about it. We were walking at the time, -and he stopped and laughed so immoderately that I was hurt. Perceiving -this, he turned and taking my hand, said gently: “Do not deny me this -pleasure. Oh, if I could always do it for you! Your gratitude is so -sweet.”</p> - -<p>What does thee think he meant, mother dear? I was so perplexed by his -speech that I was almost glad when Anna and F. A. turned to ask the -cause of the laughter.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</span> But how thoughtful Edward was not to expose me -to others’ merriment, for he turned the talk in another way immediately.</p> - -<p>Was it not right and womanly in me to offer to pay the expense I had -incurred? I want thy opinion, for I think it was, only, from his manner -and that of Anna before, I fear such is not the custom; but I shall -greatly hesitate to place myself under similar circumstances again.</p> - -<p>It was with this thought in mind that I declined to go with them the -next Seventh day. Everyone thought I was sick, and aunt began to -imagine that I had looked pale all day! I denied feeling poorly, and -was beginning to get embarrassed, when Edward H. walked to the window -and asked me to come and see a peculiar cloud. This drew away the -attention<span class="pagenum" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</span> of the others and he said very gently:</p> - -<p>“That cloud is no more peculiar than the one which has arisen between -us, and it does not threaten half the harm.” Then he went on to -tell me that he suspected the reason of my refusal, and asked me to -consider whether I would not like to do some small favor for him. I -replied “Certainly.” “Then,” he said, “never speak of money where I am -concerned, again. I have much more than I need, and I could not spend -it in any manner that could both profit and please me more than by -taking you about this region. Consider, too, the favors our family have -had from your uncles.”</p> - -<p>Was it not kindly done? And too, does thee not agree with my opinion -that it <em>sounded</em> like Friends’<span class="pagenum" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</span> teaching? I shall await thy -judgment impatiently—but I went with him.</p> - -<p>Another curious thing has happened too. I expect thee will laugh at the -many adventures that befall me. On Sixth-day evening it rained very -hard, but Uncle Joseph had tickets for a concert, which they wished -very much that I should hear. I thought it would be discourteous to -decline, although I do feel that vast sums are thus frittered away, -which might benefit the poor. To my surprise aunt said I should wear a -wool frock, as we were not going to take the horses on account of the -rain, but would be driven only to a point where we can meet the horse -railroad, which is often a very great convenience.</p> - -<p>Notwithstanding the bad<span class="pagenum" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</span> weather there was a large number of persons -present in the hall. I cannot pronounce judgment upon the concert, for -I have no knowledge concerning these things. One lady who sang seemed -to have, naturally, a sweet voice, but it was overstrained, and the -long drawn notes were quite offensive. I am sure, however, that the -audience was satisfied, and uncle and aunt have repeatedly signified -their delight, and hope to have another opportunity to listen to her. I -did my best to express my thanks for the kindness in taking me, without -mentioning my distaste for such entertainments, but my aunt suspected -me, and laughingly said “I believe you are sleepy, child.” And in truth -I was! However, I was soon wide enough awake. We missed the car we had -hoped<span class="pagenum" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</span> to gain, and had to wait in a little room, nearly half an hour. -All sorts of people were there. More than once aunt said wearily, “I -hate these mixed crowds, and I shall not let my pity for the horses -inconvenience us like this again.”</p> - -<p>For my part I was quite interested in watching the people. Just as the -car came there was a new throng, and we found it necessary to separate -our seats. Indeed uncle, with many other gentlemen, was forced to stand -the whole way. Just in front of me was a group of Harvard students, and -the moment of starting added to their numbers some who were evidently -under the influence of liquor. One of them was a very young fellow, -neatly dressed and with a sweet expression of countenance, but, mother -dear, he was<span class="pagenum" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</span> really intoxicated. He staggered into the door, and -leaning against the post actually <em>snored</em>. Many of the persons -present laughed, but the sight was very sad to me, and a nice young -man, tall and straight as Cousin Benjamin, who was close beside me, -said, no doubt observing my distress: “This troubles you.” I answered: -“Indeed it does; think of the boy’s parents!” He assented, and remarked -that the lad was evidently a “Freshman”—that is, a newcomer at -college—for that is what they are called in their first year.</p> - -<p>“And what will become of him when he gets out of the car?” I asked, for -I could plainly see that the poor boy was too much befogged to find his -way home alone.</p> - -<p>“If he has no friend with him,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</span> a policeman may get hold of him.”</p> - -<p>“How terrible,” I said, with some warmth perhaps.</p> - -<p>“I suppose,” continued the young man after quite a pause, “that I -<em>could</em> take him to his room if he has any way to indicate where -that is, or to mine until morning, if that will relieve your mind.”</p> - -<p>I supposed I brightened up a good deal at this, and I urged it upon -him, but he did not positively promise, for he quite shocked me by -bending close to me and saying almost in a whisper:</p> - -<p>“If I do, it will be done for your sake, remember, and one good turn -deserves another, so tell me where you go to church.” I was so much -surprised that for a moment I could not answer; then he repeated his -request, but the car stopped with a jerk that it usually<span class="pagenum" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</span> has, and my -uncle and aunt signified that we were to get out.</p> - -<p>The carriage was waiting, but we had scarcely made ourselves -comfortable, when my aunt exclaimed:</p> - -<p>“Sallie, I do believe you were talking to those strange men in the car. -What will you do next to astonish me?”</p> - -<p>I saw my uncle closely regarding me, and with a more severe expression -than I had ever seen him wear, but I could not believe I had done wrong -to take a humane interest in the tipsy boy. So I told them all about -it—except that I did not repeat the foolish speech of the tall young -man; it was not worth remembering.</p> - -<p>My uncle’s face softened as he heard me out, and he patted my aunt’s -plump hand and said, smiling at me:</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</span></p> - -<p>“I guess she means well always, Élise. Customs differ, you know.”</p> - -<p>But I do not think she regarded it so lightly, for she sighed heavily, -and on First day when I stood ready to accompany her to meeting—I mean -church—she came into the entry leading to my room, and began:</p> - -<p>“Sallie, child, I beg you not to talk to the minister between prayers,” -and then she suddenly turned, took my cheeks between her hands and -kissed each of them, saying rather wildly I thought, “But I declare, -<i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">ma petite</i>, you are pretty enough to turn the head of any male -creature.”</p> - -<p>She is a strange person! So full of moods—and tenses I might say—but -very very kind to thy simple Sallie.</p> - -<p>Of course thee understands<span class="pagenum" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</span> that I gave no clew whatever to the place -of worship where I was in the way of going.</p> - -<p>Nevertheless, last First-day night, when I walked to the “Vesper -Service,” I think it is called, in company with our young friends, -Anna, F. A., and Edward H., whom should I see standing in the -vestibule, but the tall young man! I assure thee I wanted to ask him -how it fared with the poor tipsy boy, but I dared not, particularly -after what aunt had said to me. Still, I could not be unmindful of his -presence all through the hour, for he followed us into the room and sat -just where he could see us all the time. I resolved to banish worldly -thoughts, but I am afraid I did not, so that I grew very uncomfortable, -and was glad when the end came, but even then I was pained by Edward -asking<span class="pagenum" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</span> me where in the world I had met Jack D. I answered that I was -not acquainted with any person so named.</p> - -<p>“Well, that <em>is</em> a puzzle,” he said, “for he has been in Europe -six months, and this is the first time I have laid eyes on him, yet I -could have declared [he really said <em>sworn</em>, but I don’t think he -means evil by it] that he recognized you as we went in.”</p> - -<p>I had to say something, so I inquired what class “Jack D.” belonged to, -and this was his response:</p> - -<p>“Great Jehosephat! Jack D. is the swellest senior on record. If once -you get into his cave he sports his oak, and treats you like a nabob.”</p> - -<p>The Harvard vernacular is sometimes hard to translate!<span class="pagenum" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</span> But I am -burning too much gas.</p> - -<p class="right"> -<span style="margin-right: 3.5em;">Affectionately,</span><br> -<span class="smcap">Thy Daughter</span>.<br> -</p> - -<hr class="tb"> -<p class="right"> -Eleventh Mo., 3d.<br> -</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Mother Dear</span>: Anna W. and I have just returned from what was -in many respects a most interesting excursion, and yet it had its dark -side.</p> - -<p>Almost immediately after I had written to thee last week, aunt carried -me to town and insisted upon my choosing several nice garments. It was -wholly unnecessary, for my wardrobe, thee knows, was very comfortable, -and I did not care to be under so great obligation to her, but I -found that to do otherwise would hurt her feelings, so I chose, very -reluctantly, a white merino that she said I must have to wear in the -evening, and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</span> aunt herself selected a pretty pale blue silk. It seems -gay for me, but she has promised that it shall be made in a plain -way. I am afraid, however, that her ideas and mine concerning those -things will not agree. Lastly, she bought a gown and cloak of a heavy -texture, and trimmed with beautiful gray fur. There is a muff too. I -submit rather than enjoy taking so much, pretty as the things are. I am -not certain that I can trust my pride, which gets the better of poor -mortals so soon, but thee told me to do as nearly as possible without -troubling my conscience, as aunt desires, therefore I shall wear the -expensive garments with less thought of the unnecessary outlay than I -otherwise could. Uncle Joseph says the color of the fur is the only -thing that reconciles me to the purchase.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</span> Indeed I am ashamed to tell -thee that the making of each dress—for I saw the bill—has cost about -seven dollars!</p> - -<p>Well, I will add to this worldly record, that when the cloak and muff -came home, there was also a round hat, with a long soft feather on it! -<em>Of course</em>, I could not be comfortable in that, and as it is -quite a new thing for me to wear aught but a bonnet, aunt was persuaded -by dear Uncle Joseph to substitute a bit of ribbon and a band of the -fur for the feather, but I almost wish thee could have seen it just as -I first did, it was beautiful!</p> - -<p>The young men come home from Harvard College every Seventh day at noon, -and we mostly go together, Anna W., F. A., Edward H., and myself for -a drive or a walk. It is getting rather<span class="pagenum" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</span> cool for boating. Aunt seems -to find it quite “<em>proper</em>” for four of us to be together. She -says (I hate to tell thee this) that either of the boys would be a very -desirable “parti!” Such suggestions drive away all the pleasure that -would come from their companionship, so I try to turn a deaf ear when -she approaches the subject.</p> - -<p>To-day we went to Nahant, a beautiful rocky beach, where there is a -large hotel in summer, and many charming seaside homes. One of the -cottages is owned by a relative of F. A. and is still open, so we -agreed to accept an invitation to dine.</p> - -<p>It was so cool that I wore my new gown and hat, but they all had so -much to say concerning their perfections and becomingness that I felt -pained, and told them so. Edward H. was quite<span class="pagenum" id="Page_119">[Pg 119]</span> serious over it and -asked me <em>why</em> I should not enjoy knowing I had fine eyes, unusual -hair, and a bright color. Of course I could only answer that if God -had given me <em>honest</em> eyes and healthy color I was very glad, but -that I believed he did not wish me to think too much about them—and -Edward said, “Well, you need not. We will do the thinking.” So then -I blushed more and more, but I managed to ask him not to do any more -<em>talking</em> about it.</p> - -<p>We left Uncle Joseph’s at eight o’clock in the morning, F. A. -driving his father’s horses, which are very fleet. I never had a -more exhilarating ride. The air was delicious and we were a long -time directly by the ocean. Oh, I wished for thee continually! Anna -wanted to drive part way. So Edward got back in the seat with<span class="pagenum" id="Page_120">[Pg 120]</span> me, -and presently our conversation drifted into politics. Thee knows I am -no politician, and that I adhere to the belief of Garrison, that the -Constitution of the United States is a “Covenant with Hell,” but I -confess I am greatly interested in the Republican party. If Charles -Sumner is right in his opinion of the Constitution, then through -political action we may look for the final overthrow of slavery, but -Edward is not even a Republican! He says the very foundations of our -government will be shaken if they elect their president, and I am not -sure that he is wrong! Let them be shaken, and relaid say I. He calls -me a rebel, and warns me that if another Anthony Burrs appears in -Boston, I may walk the streets in chains, as a conspirator against the -peace and well-being of society. I can<span class="pagenum" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</span> see that he goes to greater -length than he otherwise might, because he thinks it teases me.</p> - -<p>I asked F. A. to what party he belonged, and he quickly answered, “The -Know Nothings.” I could not help joining in the laugh that followed, -although it is a serious matter to me, and the levity with which these -young men, of stanch old revolutionary blood, treat such questions -astonishes me beyond measure.</p> - -<p>Indeed I have as yet met no one whom I could characterize as other than -“conservative.” One evening I said this in the parlor, and aunt quickly -answered that to be erratic was always unpopular, and young people -cannot afford to forego the pleasures of society. So she begged me not -to say much even though I felt a great deal.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_122">[Pg 122]</span></p> - -<p>No doubt she intended to do me a kindness by this warning, but the -contrast between this teaching and thine, dear mother mine, brought -tears to my eyes. I think Uncle Joseph must have observed them, for -when aunt was called out of the room, he patted me on the head and -whispered, “Next week I am going to give my little girl a treat. We -will not talk about it now, but she shall see and hear some Bostonians -who are <em>not</em> conservatives.” I kissed him, and then we both -laughed; and when aunt came in again he proposed a game of authors, -which we play very often. It is quite new, and I am sure they have -learned it in kindness to me, since they have discovered that I do not -play cards. Did I ever tell thee my experience on this matter? It was -soon after my arrival that<span class="pagenum" id="Page_123">[Pg 123]</span> a party of friends came in to spend the -evening, and cards were proposed. It seems that aunt is a great card -player—whist I believe they call it—and prides herself not a little -on teaching it to others. It needs a certain number to perfect the -game, and including myself there was just enough for two parties. When -I found how matters were I am afraid I felt cowardly about avowing -my principles. It is so unpleasant to make others uncomfortable, but -I did not hesitate long. I spoke quietly to Uncle Joseph and asked -him please not to count me, as I could not play. Aunt heard me and -answered before he had time to do so: “Oh, that does not amount to -much. You shall be my partner, and as you are surprisingly quick to -learn, I will guarantee that another time you<span class="pagenum" id="Page_124">[Pg 124]</span> can lead a game.” I -know my poor cheeks burned, but I had to tell her more. “Dear aunt,” -I said, “it is not that I am ignorant, for you are both ever ready to -help me, but that I believe it is wrong.” I wish thee could have seen -the astonishment on her face. Her tone changed at once, and she spoke -rather harshly, “Come, come, child, let us have no whims. How often do -you have to be told that the judgment of your elders is enough. This -is no concern of yours save to do as you are bid; take your place.” I -am sure I do not know what would have followed—for I <em>certainly</em> -could never have yielded and even for peace’ sake touched the -pasteboard that is connected in my mind with all that is low and of -evil report. But our struggles are never forgotten, and a friend was -raised<span class="pagenum" id="Page_125">[Pg 125]</span> up. One of the ladies appealed to her brother to know if he -had the new game in his pocket—authors—and then very graciously aunt -permitted half of us to play this very simple and innocent amusement. -Why is it to do right sometimes costs so much trouble to others? I -think thee would say: We cannot solve all the problems of life; this is -one that must rest with a higher intelligence than our own.</p> - -<p>Uncle Joseph has just brought me a card of invitation to a party at the -house of John B.’s mother. A queer little dark woman full of learning! -With the card was a penciled note: “Our liberal entertainment will not -take place until the week following Thanksgiving.” I suppose uncle -wrote this, rather than talk about it before my aunt. But how sad it -must<span class="pagenum" id="Page_126">[Pg 126]</span> be for two really well-meaning people not to agree in their -principles.</p> - -<p>Dear mother, I have kept this letter until after the party in order to -tell thee about it, but I am afraid neither of us will quite enjoy my -relation of it.</p> - -<p>In the first place aunt insisted upon dressing my hair and arranging -some flowers about my blue silk frock. She is really an artist in those -things, and with the help of the maid I scarcely knew myself! Forgive -me, if I say I could but admire the creature they had constructed. And -yet it made me cry, I looked like a stranger! I thought best not to say -a word but to go just as I was, in order to please her. Every time I -passed a glass I felt like an imposter! Dear Uncle Joseph drove with -me in the carriage and came after me<span class="pagenum" id="Page_127">[Pg 127]</span> at what <em>they</em> regard as -an early hour, eleven o’clock. On the way he said, “Little girl, try -and forget your furbelows, and next time I will persuade aunt to let -you go in your simple white frock.” So I was comforted. And indeed I -<em>tried</em> hard to forget, but I could not. People looked at me on -every hand, and I thought it must be because it was as if I was trying -to be someone else than a Friend. Then came another trial. There was -a large room with a linen cover over the rich carpet, and dancing -going on. The musicians sat in the upper hall, and supper was served -from ten on. I had no sooner gone through with the ceremony of various -introductions, than I was surrounded by young men, who asked me to -dance. I suppose they did so out of kindness to a stranger, but Anna -W.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_128">[Pg 128]</span> helped me in my trouble, by saying “Yes” to each one that asked me, -and then I explained that Friends did not think it right to dance, and -one young man made us laugh heartily by saying:</p> - -<p>“Why, I thought you were a Quaker or a Shaker, or something that dances -all the time, even when they go to church!” Did not that show gross -ignorance?</p> - -<p>The supper, too, tried me, for everyone, almost without an exception, -took a glass of wine! Anna told me it was a “light wine,” but -<em>that</em> could make no difference to me.</p> - -<p>Edward H. was my escort, and when I declined taking it, he put his -glass down untouched. I thought it was very wise in him. Perhaps the -thought of its injurious influence was new to him. We did not talk -about it, but half<span class="pagenum" id="Page_129">[Pg 129]</span> a dozen times we were urged to drink. It really -made me sad, for these young men are not proof, always, against -temptation, and indeed I had reason to fear before I left, that the -wine had affected one of them at least; for as I stood waiting to say -Good-night, he asked if he might accompany me home, and when I told him -uncle was coming for me, he added: “I do not blame him for trying to -keep such a beauty to himself as long as possible!”</p> - -<p>During the evening a young matron living near here told me some of -their friends had proposed to have a series of “sociables,” meeting at -their houses alternately, and wished me to join. I am sure it is very -kind, although I do not know what sort of entertainments these are to -be, but I thanked her and said I would ask<span class="pagenum" id="Page_130">[Pg 130]</span> aunt’s permission, and to -my surprise, as she threw my shawl about my shoulders, she stooped and -kissed me, “Good-by for the present!” That is what they use here as the -form of farewell.</p> - -<p class="right"> -<span class="smcap">Thy Loving Daughter.</span><br> -</p> -<hr class="tb"> - -<p class="right"> -Eleventh Mo., 24th.<br> -</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Dear Mother</span>: Oh, what a treat I have had! Nothing that Uncle -Joseph could have done would have given me more pleasure than attending -the Anti-Slavery Fair, held in Music Hall last week. I think thee -cannot estimate aright the effort which it cost him, unless thee calls -to mind all that I have told thee concerning the real relation of the -business men of Boston to the comparatively small number belonging to -the A. S. Society. Of course aunt knew about our attendance,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_131">[Pg 131]</span> although -I doubt whether she had an invitation to join us, and she made merry -continually over what she called our “escapade.”</p> - -<p>When I went upstairs to get my cloak, she called to me, “Girly, put on -all your <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">outré</i> garments; you must look odd, or you will not be -in harmony with your surroundings. Only <em>queer</em> people belong.”</p> - -<p>The entertainment began at half-past seven with a tea; that is, small -tables were scattered about, where one could sit down, and the ladies -handed around tea and cakes. My pleasure began at once, for we had -scarcely entered the hall, which, by the way, is <em>very</em> large, -when we met Uncle Joseph’s old friend, Daniel K. I had seen him before, -and he told me how much I was like grandmother. So now, as soon as -he saw us, he tucked my hand under his arm<span class="pagenum" id="Page_132">[Pg 132]</span> and bore me across the -room, where, behind one of the tables sat a stout elderly woman, in a -very queer cap. I have seen pictures like it, and does thee remember -Elizabeth Jones, who did our laundry work one summer? She wore a -similar one. It was not thin like thine, but rather heavy in texture, -with a wide frill about the face. But the woman beneath it was very -attractive. She had such bright eyes and a most winning smile.</p> - -<p>She spoke with Friend Daniel, and I did not catch his words, but -immediately she came around to us, stroked my hair and invited me -to pour tea. Then someone else came and called her by name, and who -does thee think it was? Lydia Maria Child. When I realized that I was -helping the writer of those beautiful stories, I<span class="pagenum" id="Page_133">[Pg 133]</span> had to turn and look -at her more closely and I could not help saying, “Did thee ever know -David and Jonathan?” We laughed together, and she seemed pleased that I -had read her works. For an hour or more we waited on the cake and tea, -and then Uncle Joseph took me over to the other side where articles -were exposed for sale. I bought a few trifles, which uncle insisted -upon paying for, but thee knows just about what Philadelphia fairs are, -so I will not repeat. One thing however I must speak of. I selected -a tiny package of visiting cards tied together with a bit of ribbon, -and each one was inscribed with the name of a prominent Abolishionist -written by himself. William Loyd Garrison, Wendell Phillips, Charles -Remond, Stephen Foster, and so on. I thought I<span class="pagenum" id="Page_134">[Pg 134]</span> should like to keep -them until I am old, and tell my children how I came to have them. I -also bought a pocket pincushion with alternate black and white pins.</p> - -<p>Presently there was some music, for which I did not care, and then -a gentleman announced Wendell Phillips as a speaker. My! but I wish -thee had been there! Such enthusiasm! and with good reason. I do not -believe I ever saw a finer looking man. He has a <em>little</em> look -of a man of the world, but one forgets that as soon as he opens his -lips. Then came forth no uncertain sounds, but genuine thunderbolts -of truth and eloquence. Oh, it was grand! Uncle says he spoke over -half an hour, but it seemed short to me, and as he left the platform I -sighed. Uncle Joseph inquired what I would like next, and I answered<span class="pagenum" id="Page_135">[Pg 135]</span> -“Either Sumner or Emerson,” and lo! as if I had touched a magic spring, -<em>both</em> of them appeared. The former, thee is aware, is not able to -do duty, but his magnificent presence was enough, and he smiled down -at the audience with a great friendliness as he said he “wanted to -<em>introduce</em> Ralph Waldo Emerson.” Everybody laughed and cheered, -and the gentle philosopher spoke only a little time, about human rights -and human wrongs. I was much impressed by his manner, which is that of -one who soliloquizes rather than of an orator. He is a great contrast -in appearance too, to those who preceded him—tall and slender, his -head bowing just a little, as if it was heavy with great thought, but -there is not much fire about him, and thee would undoubtedly like<span class="pagenum" id="Page_136">[Pg 136]</span> him -the better for it. He is very genial, for I saw him talking and smiling -with all who approached. I hear that he has a great reverence for the -<em>individual</em>, and looks not for the foibles, but the majesty of -the man.</p> - -<p>I asked Uncle Joseph if he thought it would be right for me to speak -with William Lloyd Garrison, of whom dear grandfather had so much to -say, and I soon found that the very name of my good ancestor was a -passport everywhere in the room. I was introduced to the Garrison young -people, three sons at least; and the mother asked me to come and see -her, which I should like to do, but it is scarcely probable. I do not -wish to offend aunt’s prejudices, unnecessarily, and my visit there -could be of no real use.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_137">[Pg 137]</span></p> - -<p>I saw Elizabeth Peabody, who is trying to interest people in the -kindergarten methods of teaching young children, by playing and talking -with them, rather than through books, and it certainly seems a most -reasonable system.</p> - -<p>It seems to me now as if I had seen Boston, for the people who were at -the Fair were the very people I have heard about, and read about all -my life—the people indeed, whom <em>I</em> supposed constituted Boston, -and yet outside their own circle, few know or care whether they exist. -I am wrong. They have been raised up for a holy purpose, and if, as it -seems, the busy mart is deaf to their entreaties for universal liberty, -unconditional emancipation, the sin will lie at its own door should -bloodshed follow.</p> - -<p>I am afraid this meeting with<span class="pagenum" id="Page_138">[Pg 138]</span> those in whom I am so much interested -will rather spoil me for our everyday routine. It is pleasant enough, -but it seems selfish to devote so large a share of time to one’s -entertainment. I sometimes long for active <em>work</em>; but aunt says -it spoils the domestics (servants is her word) to help them, and it -spoils a “lady’s hands”! I never heard thee complain in that way, and -there are no dearer or daintier hands than thine, which are ready for -pot or pan, needle or butter mold. Perhaps it is a little Pharisaical -to thank God we are “not like other men,” but I am thankful that I was -sent into thy arms!</p> - -<p>I have been tempted to say that I had a <em>complete</em> pleasure at -the Anti-Slavery Fair, but as I was about to write it thus, a reminder -came to me of <em>one</em> thing that I<span class="pagenum" id="Page_139">[Pg 139]</span> wanted and did not get, and -that was a piece of <i>temperance mince pie</i>; for I heard it said -that there were such in an adjoining room, and much as I like pies, I -have steadfastly declined tasting those that looked so nice at uncle’s -table, for I know full well they are made with a strong infusion of -brandy.</p> - -<p>We came out home by the horse railroad again, and I somehow could -not help thinking about the poor tipsy boy and the tall young man, -and strange enough, the latter got into our car! I did not lift my -eyes once, on the whole route, for he sat directly opposite me, and I -thought it would be discourteous not to acknowledge his presence, and -to do so would trouble my uncle. So I was especially weary when we -got out, and I thought the young man went on<span class="pagenum" id="Page_140">[Pg 140]</span> further, but just as we -stopped he sprang up as though he had been asleep and in hurrying out -he jostled me, and begged me to excuse it. He has a fair voice, manly, -and direct, and—but what does thee think? after he had passed, there -was a scrap of paper lying on my muff! Perhaps I ought to have thrown -it away without reading, but I <em>did</em> want to know about the poor -lad, and so I crumpled it up in my glove, until I got into my quiet -chamber, and then I saw that it was a bit torn from a newspaper border, -and beautifully written with a lead pencil. It said: “I took him home -and have talked with him since about the wrong he has done. I think it -will not happen again.”</p> - -<p>Was it not kind in “Jack D.” to let me know in this way, without<span class="pagenum" id="Page_141">[Pg 141]</span> -intruding upon me, or even signing his name?</p> - -<p>I intended to bring home the little cushion I bought at the fair, -but when I told Edward H. all about it, he said that he would like a -memento to recall what I have told him about the sin of slavery, which -I really believe he had never been taught to consider. So I gave him -the pinball.</p> - -<p>I must tell thee about my French lessons next time. Aunt speaks with a -fine accent, they tell me; and she thinks I have been well taught.</p> - -<p>I wish I could kiss thy dear cheek. Farewell,</p> - -<p class="right"> -<span class="smcap">Sallie</span>.<br> -</p> -<hr class="tb"> - -<p class="right"> -<span style="margin-right: 2.5em;"><span class="smcap">Philadelphia</span>,</span><br> -Fourth Mo., 26th.<br> -</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Mother Dear</span>: Thy presence has been roundabout me throughout<span class="pagenum" id="Page_142">[Pg 142]</span> -the day, and I cannot sleep until I have availed myself of this poor -medium, my pen, to convey to thee some of the thoughts that fill my -mind.</p> - -<p>Cousin Henry went with me to attend the morning meeting at Race Street, -where we listened to words of warning and words of comfort from the -lips of Friend B. and Friend T., and I was quite lost in meditation -following the discourse of the latter, whose fine voice I ofttimes -fear has an influence over me that should only be the result of his -spiritual teaching. Then Lucretia Mott arose and spoke very acceptably, -as she has ever done, to me. Yet it was not the words that fell from -her lips that so greatly affected me, it was the memory of a strange -scene that I have recently witnessed that endeared her to me, and it -is<span class="pagenum" id="Page_143">[Pg 143]</span> of this that I am anxious thee should know.</p> - -<p>On Second day, while we were awaiting Cousin Henry at the customary -dinner hour, a lad brought in a note asking aunt to excuse his -non-appearance and begging her to bring some friends and join him at -the office of the U. S. Commissioner on Fourth Street as soon after two -o’clock as possible.</p> - -<p>It seems that a colored man had been claimed as a fugitive slave by -a Southerner staying in the city, and this reaching the ears of a -prominent Abolitionist, a few persons resolved to make a strenuous -effort to have the case publicly tried.</p> - -<p>Such, as thee knows, is not the usual proceeding, for the poor -creatures are generally given over to the hands of their taskmasters<span class="pagenum" id="Page_144">[Pg 144]</span> -with very little noise or show of justice.</p> - -<p>The watchword was quickly passed, and when the case was opened -the small room was densely packed and it was made evident to the -commissioner that considerable excitement prevailed. He therefore -judged it best to delay further trial until 2 <span class="allsmcap">P. M.</span>, at which -hour the court would sit in the large hall just around the corner, by -Independence Square, and it was there that aunt took me.</p> - -<p>Friend J. and his wife, Elizabeth C. and two sons, and four or five -other “plain bonnets and broad brims,” entered the room about the same -time that we did. A. L., whom thee remembers, was present and arranged -comfortable seats for us, some having benches, others chairs, while a -large table in the middle of the hall was surrounded<span class="pagenum" id="Page_145">[Pg 145]</span> with the roughest -looking men I ever saw! They were armed with pistols and bowie knives -and handled their weapons too freely to make me comfortable. And yet -how cowardly I felt when I glanced at the poor slave face so full of -terrible anticipation!</p> - -<p>The room was fast filling up with Southern sympathizers when Lucretia -Mott quietly took her place beside the colored man, and after speaking -kindly with him drew forth her knitting work! I never saw anything -so diabolical as the countenances of the company about the table, as -they commented to each other upon her appearance there. Evidently they -resolved to render her situation as trying as possible, which, I assure -thee, they never failed to do during the whole session.</p> - -<p>Of course thee knows I had<span class="pagenum" id="Page_146">[Pg 146]</span> never been in a court room before, and -so I am afraid I shall not be able to give thee anything more than -a very meager account of the regular proceedings. It seems that the -identity of the slave had first to be proved, with the date of his -escape. Then the poor man brought what testimony he could quickly -gather as to his having lived near Lancaster for a greater length of -time than his would-be owner asserted. The evidence was given under -great difficulties because the strong Southern bias of the crowd broke -forth in wild cries and oaths, whenever the adverse testimony came on. -Sometimes the noise was deafening. The commissioner is a frail man of -middle age, and by the way, a descendant of Friends. He made great -exertion to maintain order, but frequently looked<span class="pagenum" id="Page_147">[Pg 147]</span> as if he feared the -result of interference.</p> - -<p>Hour after hour went on. The twilight had grown into darkness and -midnight finally drew near. None of the anti-slavery party had been -allowed to leave the room, or rather having left it, to return. -Everyone was getting hungry, yet I think we all thought especially of -the good woman who sat so calmly beside the not over cleanly colored -man, but I am bound to add, with a group of tried and true friends -close around her.</p> - -<p>In one of the pauses loud voices were heard outside, and a rush toward -the door gave us fear that a measure was on foot to seize the prisoner -and carry him off under the very eye of the law, but we found the -trouble arose from a young man insisting upon being<span class="pagenum" id="Page_148">[Pg 148]</span> allowed to enter -with refreshments for Lucretia Mott. He was actually driven away by -force, and only after a hazardous entry, by means of a water pipe and -window, was he able to present the modest supper to her. Thee will not -be surprised to know that she at once shared it with other Friends in -attendance.</p> - -<p>Soon after daylight the commissioner announced that the testimony had -all been taken and he found himself too much fatigued to continue the -sitting, therefore the court was adjourned until 2 <span class="allsmcap">P. M.</span> of -that day. I had grown very restless, as thee may imagine, and turning -to aunt I said, “I scarcely dare breathe for fear the poor man must go -back to his chains.” A. L., who sat near, touched me lightly on the -shoulder, and replied: “Prepare thyself<span class="pagenum" id="Page_149">[Pg 149]</span> calmly for the worst in life, -and thus thee will not be overwhelmed when disaster comes, and should -the best be realized thy joy will be proportionate.”</p> - -<p>I think I shall never forget his remark. The whole scene is so vivid -before me. I cannot close my eyes without seeing every detail of the -crowded room, dimly lighted, and the shadowy figures in the shady -corners leaning anxiously forward to catch the expression as well -as the words of an earnest old black man, who was questioned and -cross-questioned for hours on the witness stand. I know, mother, that -had it been I, I should certainly have made some mistake, but he did -not get greatly confused, only wandered slowly over and over again in -his statements and settled down upon<span class="pagenum" id="Page_150">[Pg 150]</span> what proved to be the absolute -truth.</p> - -<p>It seems he was a small gardener in the neighborhood where the prisoner -worked, and had written down in his rough notebook the date of the -stranger’s arrival. This book was the only direct testimony in favor -of freedom, for all the other witnesses became confused, or else -exhibited clearly the falsity of their statements. As it turned out, -the good, conscientious gardener had made a mistake in his date, and -the commissioner suspected it, but as A. L. told us they could not go -behind the written facts and we all thought he was, indeed, greatly -harassed by the situation and was glad enough to be able “to give the -prisoner the benefit of the doubt,” which I suppose is a formal phrase -that applies to<span class="pagenum" id="Page_151">[Pg 151]</span> causes decided upon suspicious evidence, and thee -knows, it is often said that English law leans toward mercy.</p> - -<p>Alas! that it should not always be based upon justice! And, mother -dear, thee will recall here a great deal that I have written thee -about the young men of New England with whom I have been thrown during -the year. I cannot bring myself back to the old thought that I bore -concerning them. I expected the H. and A. families were as eager for -the abolition of slavery as their forefathers were to found a “free and -independent nation,” and behold! they jeer at Garrison and Phillips and -hesitate to do any thing that will hurt Southern pride.</p> - -<p>Thee has ever taught me to “judge not,” yet I would that the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_152">[Pg 152]</span> youth of -distinguished patriot families now enjoying every educational advantage -at the great seat of learning—Harvard College—might also feel the -throb of sympathy for the oppressed. But we must turn back to the -terrible slave trial.</p> - -<p>At times, toward dawn especially, when the men grew weary, I suppose, -the pistols were flourished as if they were harmless things. I drew -very near to dear aunt once, but she quietly pointed to Lucretia -Mott, whose age required rest, but whose motion betrayed neither her -weariness nor deep concern. It was a relief when a little before nine -o’clock the court was adjourned. It seems there was some thought of -attempting a forcible capture of the man on trial, but his anti-slavery -friends gathered close about him<span class="pagenum" id="Page_153">[Pg 153]</span> and thus remained until he was in the -hands of the officers of the law.</p> - -<p>Of course we were very tired, but nothing of small importance could -have kept us from rejoining the throng, for such it had now become, -when court opened again that afternoon.</p> - -<p>What is called the “argument” began as soon as order was established. -First the lawyer on one side, a much disfigured man named B. B., tried -to show that all the evidence was in favor of the slaveholder. That is, -that the man claimed was really the escaped slave, and this being so, -the commissioner ought to give him up. Then the other, G. E., made a -most satisfactory response, stating that the only evidence to be relied -upon was the gardener’s account book, and that distinctly<span class="pagenum" id="Page_154">[Pg 154]</span> showed the -man to have been free at the time he was said to have run away. Oh, -mother! I wish thee could have heard him. I know it is dangerous to -allow one’s enthusiasm too great liberty, but I never felt so well -satisfied with any speaker before.</p> - -<p>At last it was over and a long reading from the commissioner closed -the matter. Even aunt, I think, was in doubt how it might end, until -the very last sentence, and then—although I did not approve of the -sentiment—I could not help a touch of sympathy with a man near me who -shouted excitedly, “You have saved your soul, commissioner!”</p> - -<p><em>Such</em> excitement! People shook hands and cried and—the slave had -disappeared! No one saw him go, no one seemed to know where he went, -but aunt whispered<span class="pagenum" id="Page_155">[Pg 155]</span> to me that it was all right, he was taken in charge -by a friend and would be immediately out of harm’s way. I think it was -an hour before we could get down to the street, so thronged was the -staircase, and everyone seemed happy over the result.</p> - -<p>I am inclined to think my mind dwelt as much on the awful -responsibility of the commissioner as upon the released man. How -<em>can</em> one bind himself by an oath to serve a government that has -made this iniquitous bond with the slaveholders? I <em>almost</em> hope -to learn later that this dreadful experience has led to the resignation -of Commissioner L.</p> - -<p>There was one other thing, mother dear, that gave me great joy. In the -midst of the enthusiasm, someone seized my hand. I was not astonished -at the movement<span class="pagenum" id="Page_156">[Pg 156]</span> for every heart seemed to be throbbing with sympathy -and brother love, but I assure thee I was very happy when I lifted my -eyes and saw bending over me the familiar face of Edward H.! What a -fine face it is! And on this occasion burning with newborn devotion to -principle! It is needless to say that he has since been to visit us, -and that he is going to return to Pennsylvania during the summer and -has kindly responded to my invitation to come to our home.</p> - -<p>Thee cannot help loving him, I know, nor can dear father either, and -you will both rejoice that—for Edward has so expressed it—through -your simple Sallie’s teaching a strong man has been led to see the -enormity of our national sin, and pledged himself to leave<span class="pagenum" id="Page_157">[Pg 157]</span> no stone -unturned toward its abolishment.</p> - -<p>In firm affection, I remain</p> - -<p class="right"> -<span class="smcap">Thy Daughter</span>.<br> -</p> - -<p>N. B.—I think perhaps I ought to tell thee about a letter I have -recently had from F. A. A kind letter, but with a tone of flattery -that I do not quite like, nor, indeed, understand. He speaks as if -I was much in his thought and—can it be, dear mother, that I gave -him a wrong impression of my friendship? My cheeks burn as I write -this, but it is delightful to know good Edward H. was thoroughly -inspired—through my mere suggestion that these are serious times—to -do a great deal of honest thinking. I shall be right glad to welcome -him within our home!<span class="pagenum" id="Page_159">[Pg 159]</span> </p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_161">[Pg 161]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="UNCLE_JOSEPH">UNCLE JOSEPH.</h2> -</div> - - -<div> - <img class="drop-cap" src="images/dc_o.jpg" width="100" height="113" alt=""> -</div> - -<p class="drop-cap"><span class="upper-case">One</span> of the prominent figures in our meeting house for many years was -that of Uncle Joseph—for thus was he known by the young and old who -frequented our religious gatherings.</p> - -<p>He occupied the second seat in the men’s gallery—and it was with him -that the Elder shook hands in sign that Friends should separate, when -it seemed likely that the spirit would move no others to utter gentle -words of blessing or stern warning against the wiles of the tempter.</p> - -<p>As children we regarded Uncle Joseph in the light of a patriarch,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_162">[Pg 162]</span> -although I now know that his years, at the time of which I write, had -scarce reached the limit of a half century.</p> - -<p>He was a comely man, straight and tall, his smooth-shaven face beaming -with good nature, and his soft blue eye lighted with sympathy, but he -was not intellectual. Slow of movement and uncertain in expression, his -hearers were often troubled to follow his excellent thought, and it -was no uncommon thing for my parents to refer to his ministrations as -being “labored.” We had a consciousness, based perhaps upon accidental -knowledge, that he was uncommonly well to do, and also that there was -considerable feeling in the society that Sarah Sidney, with her clear -insight and facile speech, would be a fit life companion for the good -man.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_163">[Pg 163]</span> But time wore on and there seemed no likelihood of a realization -of this desire.</p> - -<p>I can remember one occasion when the subject really assumed the -importance that is usually given to gossip, but it was so lovingly and -conscientiously touched upon that I was greatly impressed.</p> - -<p>My father and mother were in the way of inviting many friends to dine -with them on monthly meeting day. Quarterly meeting brought even more -persons from a distance, and among the children little unaccustomed -duties were distributed. I was frequently desired to remain for a time -in the front chamber and assist our women visitors in removing their -wraps and adjusting the cap crowns that often met with disaster beneath -the stiff bonnets. It was always a pleasurable duty, for Friends<span class="pagenum" id="Page_164">[Pg 164]</span> never -forget the young, and as each one grasped my little palm, she did not -neglect to speak an encouraging word.</p> - -<p>On the occasion to which I have alluded, meeting broke up somewhat -later than usual. I hurried home, warmed my chilled fingers, and ran -upstairs, where a bright fire was burning on the hearth. I glanced -about to see that the wood box was full, and looked out of the window -where my eye rested upon a short line of carriages all bent in the -direction of our home. First came father and mother, grandfather and -the three younger children; then a vehicle well known to me as that of -Elias Chase from Derry Quarter; and thus I counted them off, as one by -one they drew up beside the horse-block.</p> - -<p>I missed Sarah Sidney, who<span class="pagenum" id="Page_165">[Pg 165]</span> generally came with Theophilus Baldwin’s -family, and having seen her placid face in its usual place on the seat -beneath the gallery, fronting the meeting, I was at a loss to explain -her absence. She was tenderly attached to mother, and I could not -believe any light matter would take her to another’s table.</p> - -<p>A gentle voice called me to my duties:</p> - -<p>“Why, Katherine dear, thee must have been very spry to get home before -us. I was pleased to see thy interest in the meeting to-day.”</p> - -<p>The good woman kissed me and thanked me for the little aid I was able -to give in unpinning her great shawl.</p> - -<p>Directly afterward, sweet Jane Spencer came tripping up the stairs. She -was frequently spoken<span class="pagenum" id="Page_166">[Pg 166]</span> of as exhibiting “overmuch ardor” in all her -good works, but we children loved the enthusiastic little woman.</p> - -<p>“O Katherine, I am glad to make use of thy quick fingers. My cap -strings are sadly awry. I have been most uncomfortable in them all -through meeting. Our breakfast was a trifle late this morning, and we -had far to drive.”</p> - -<p>One and another arrived, each with a thought of me. “How thee grows, -child,” or “Thy mother is blessed in her little helpers.”</p> - -<p>The room was well-nigh full, when someone asked the question that had -been trembling on my lips.</p> - -<p>“Where is Sarah Sidney?”</p> - -<p>No one directly replied, but after a moment’s reflection nearly all had -a suggestion or a little interest in her to express.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_167">[Pg 167]</span></p> - -<p>“Methought her face bore traces of anxiety this morning. I trust she -has met with no further financial disaster. Thee knows, Rhoda, she is -benevolent to a surprising degree in one whose purse is not lengthy, -and it is therefore a serious matter to be forced to curtail in her -giving.”</p> - -<p>“Sarah is too true a follower of the Great Teacher to be long afflicted -by the things of this world,” replied an aged friend.</p> - -<p>“Ah, Hannah dear,” answered the first speaker, “thee has never had the -bread and butter trouble, and therefore thee can hardly compass its -misery.”</p> - -<p>I think we all felt the force of this argument, for Hannah was richly -dowered. Presently Jane Spencer sighed:</p> - -<p>“I cannot help wishing that Uncle Joseph would recognize<span class="pagenum" id="Page_168">[Pg 168]</span> that the hand -of the Lord is pointing him to Sarah Sidney.”</p> - -<p>“If such be the will of our Heavenly Father, I doubt not it will be -revealed in due time,” and Hannah spoke with great deliberation.</p> - -<p>“That is quite true, and undoubtedly it is only those among us who -are a trifle worldly minded, that show a disposition to hasten these -things.” Jane Spencer was always very meek under reproof, and I felt -glad that others sustained her desire that Uncle Joseph should be a -little less deliberate in his action.</p> - -<p>“I can hardly think that he realizes Sarah’s worth,” said a late comer.</p> - -<p>“On the contrary,” it was Rhoda Longstreet’s voice, “I am sometimes -inclined to believe that his doubt rests upon his own<span class="pagenum" id="Page_169">[Pg 169]</span> merit. If he -were one of the world’s people I should say he was bashful. As it is, -I shall call him slow in perceiving his adaptation to any peculiar -calling.”</p> - -<p>“Thee may be right,” responded Jane Spencer, and I was struck with the -note of merrymaking that accompanied her words. “If so, I can only wish -that somebody would give him a hint, for I really believe that Sarah -has perceived their true relationship, and that her spirit is troubled -with doubt since no sign is given unto her.”</p> - -<p>“Ah,” interrupted Hannah, “shall we never learn that God does not wish -us to call upon him for <em>signs</em>?”</p> - -<p>Now it had chanced, although none of those present were at that time -conscious of it, that Sarah Sidney had given up her seat in a friend’s -carriage to a person who<span class="pagenum" id="Page_170">[Pg 170]</span> was suffering from a weak limb, and had -walked briskly along the frozen road toward our house.</p> - -<p>Uncle Joseph, too, had chosen to leave his vehicle at home, and seeing -in the distance a familiar plump little figure, he made haste to -overtake her.</p> - -<p>For a few moments they talked together of the lesser things of life. -Then they fell into silence, which was at last broken by Uncle Joseph’s -voice.</p> - -<p>“My mind has dwelt much to-day upon the Bible teaching of the relation -of Ruth and Boaz.”</p> - -<p>I am sure the throbbing heart beneath the clear muslin kerchief of -Sarah Sidney must have bounded a little at this. He went on: “Has thee -ever thought it over, and applied the test to our own lives?”</p> - -<p>It certainly was not strange<span class="pagenum" id="Page_171">[Pg 171]</span> that the good woman hesitated before she -answered:</p> - -<p>“If thee means to ask whether it has been shown to me that I am chosen -of the Lord to be thy companion, I will admit that it has; but, Joseph, -thee is not an old man, nor am I a young hand-maiden.”</p> - -<p>Uncle Joseph stopped short in his walk, and catching a frightened look -upon the honest face beside him, he gravely said:</p> - -<p>“It was not upon <em>that</em> relation my mind ran. I thought rather of -the increased duty in this day and generation which must belong to the -husbandman and his gleaners; or in other words the responsibility of -him upon whom the benefits of this world have been showered, and the -loud call that is ever sounding in my ear to extend help to those who -need; and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_172">[Pg 172]</span> it has been whispered to me that thy material goods have -been slipping from thee, and—and, I wished to offer my aid.”</p> - -<p>Could one marvel if a feeling of faintness crept over the gentle Sarah, -or that a beseeching look set the seal upon the awful stillness that -followed? Her face grew first scarlet, then very, very white. Uncle -Joseph’s voice sounded strange in her ear. She feared she should fall, -but as the tones grew clearer, something else impressed her.</p> - -<p>“Sarah, thee has a more receptive spirit than my own. I have sometimes -longed to see aright in regard to the formation of a closer bond with -thee, and I rejoice that through my own ill-chosen speech thee has been -led to point the way.”</p> - -<p>He took her trembling hand<span class="pagenum" id="Page_173">[Pg 173]</span> between his own, and smiled down upon -the sweet but tearful face; then her lips were opened, the pain went -forever out of her heart, and she whispered only:</p> - -<p>“Dear Joseph.”</p> - -<p>But her trial was not quite over. We were already summoned to the -dining room when Uncle Joseph and Sarah Sidney entered the door -together. I glanced about me, and was certain that I saw more than one -look of satisfaction exchanged by the company present.</p> - -<p>The moment of silent blessing was past. My mother moved as if to begin -serving the soup, but she caught Uncle Joseph’s eye, and awaited his -slow words:</p> - -<p>“Dear friends,” he said with a little tremor in his voice, “rejoice -with me, for to-day has our beloved Sarah Sidney revealed to<span class="pagenum" id="Page_174">[Pg 174]</span> me the -message that the Lord has given into her keeping.”</p> - -<p>He paused, and with a flush brightening her soft cheeks Sarah asked -calmly:</p> - -<p>“Joseph, will thee kindly explain thyself?”</p> - -<p>I never knew him to do anything so well as he now related to us the -manner in which he had obtained an insight into the secret knowledge of -Sarah Sidney’s heart.</p> - -<p>As he ceased speaking, her own rhythmic tones filled the room in -tender thanksgiving to the Lord for his gift of companionship, and -this has evermore remained in my memory as one of the most beautiful -supplications I have been privileged to hear.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_175">[Pg 175]</span></p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - -<div class="chapter"><p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_176">[Pg 176]</span></p> -<h2 class="nobreak" id="MY_GRANDAMES_SECRET">MY GRANDAME’S SECRET.</h2> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_177">[Pg 177]</span></p> - -<div> - <img class="drop-cap" src="images/dc_a.jpg" width="100" height="113" alt=""> -</div> - -<p class="drop-cap"><span class="upper-case">Almost</span> a hundred years ago, there was born into a staid Quaker -household a child whose very physique set at defiance all the rules of -the orderly family.</p> - -<p>The father, Daniel, and the mother, Lucretia Chester, were fair, -colorless persons, and the brown hair of the latter was severely banded -beneath her clear muslin cap. One can imagine the tinge of dismay that -must have clouded the fatherly affection for his firstborn, when Daniel -perceived that the babe was a dimpled, dark-eyed daughter, whose wealth -of raven locks<span class="pagenum" id="Page_178">[Pg 178]</span> fell into soft rings about her brow.</p> - -<p>As she grew into recognition of her immediate surroundings, her -abounding vivacity made her singularly attractive. Her great eyes -sparkled as she cooed in sympathy with the soft-toned stroke of the -tall clock that had rung out the hour of her mother’s birth, and -the play of the firelight on the pale wall inspired her to feverish -exhibitions of delight. At such times Daniel laid his hand tenderly on -the refractory curls, and vainly smoothing away their pretty curves, he -said, “Alas, Lucretia, a very worldling has been given to our charge. -It behooves thee and me to keep an untiring watch over the little one.” -“She is the Lord’s own, is she not?” was the gentle reply. But to guide -and to guard her after the fashion of the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_179">[Pg 179]</span> stern orthodox rule was the -unrelenting training that the father practiced. More than once as the -years went on, he took the scissors from the hand of his wife, with a -strange misgiving lest she harbored a secret pleasure in the child’s -ringlets, and severely he cut away so much of the crowning glory as -scissors could cut, only to find an immediate renewal of nature’s -willfulness, and it was with something like reproach that he spoke of -her brilliant color.</p> - -<p>“I wish, Dorcas, thee had more of the mother’s tint about thee,” he -said, emphasizing the plain Quaker name they had given the girl, as if -to counteract the impression of her brilliant beauty which increased -with time.</p> - -<p>One day as she sat at dinner, flushed by a wild scamper across the lawn -with her playfellow, a<span class="pagenum" id="Page_180">[Pg 180]</span> soft-eyed collie, straight before her hung a -looking-glass which served her father in his frequent shaving trials, -and the child, catching the reflection of her bright face, cried out:</p> - -<p>“I do not see, dear father, why thee should wish me to be pale like -mother. Mine is far the prettier color. She is a snowdrop, but I am the -rose.”</p> - -<p>The pain Daniel felt darkened his brow. “Dorcas,” he said, “thee speaks -as the daughter of sin; thy words reveal the wiles of the devil.”</p> - -<p>The sensitive girl trembled, then her brave spirit rose and despite her -tears she had answer:</p> - -<p>“Did not our Heavenly Father make us <em>all</em>, and why may I not -admire myself, if I am his handiwork, as much as thee admires dear -mother?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_181">[Pg 181]</span></p> - -<p>Her innocence touched Lucretia, who made haste to forestall a severe -reproof from her husband:</p> - -<p>“The love of the flesh is unholy, my daughter. We are bidden to strive -with all the might which the Lord vouchsafes against the things of this -world. To purify the heart through the working of the Holy Spirit, this -is the highest good.”</p> - -<p>“I think I do not understand thee, mother. Is the rose blushing for its -sin in not being made like snowdrops?”</p> - -<p>“Dorcas, restrain thy tongue; and, Lucretia, perhaps we are in error -not to take the child more persistently to meeting. That she is -restless and disturbing to the meditations of others must not be -allowed to have too much weight.”</p> - -<p>From that time forward the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_182">[Pg 182]</span> active girl placed herself under bonds -to subdue her natural inclinations, and many a bright spring morning -she sighed as she watched the lambs frisking in the fields, and noted -the disappointment of the collie as she refused his invitation to a -race, and with dripping hands she smoothed and resmoothed her curls, -preparatory to the ride to meeting. It was hard work, too, for her -to keep awake during the long silence or the droning tones of the -preacher, that seemed arranged in order to lull the restless children -to sleep, but she formulated a private code of morals, under which -this trial figured as a dispensation to school the spirit in its early -encounters with the tempter.</p> - -<p>Occasionally the sermon interested her. Far more frequent was her -retirement within herself,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_183">[Pg 183]</span> and in misery of spirit she recounted the -long list of her sins, sincerely soliciting aid from on high that they -might be overcome. Among the chief of her trials was to make the honest -confession that she was not averse to looking at her own image, and -from this constant sense of the enormity of the transgression grew -an absolute intolerance of her beauty. She would have become morbid -over it, but for the thoroughly healthful nature which reveled in -outdoor exercise, and was of no mean assistance to the busy father -in his lesser tasks. Dorcas was unselfish, too, and her mind turned -readily into other channels than that of self-consciousness. She was -a deft little housemaid, and imitated her mother’s kindly ways with -the servants; but perhaps the absence<span class="pagenum" id="Page_184">[Pg 184]</span> of childish companions gave her -an air of maturity hardly in accord with her years. She was dreamy -too. Somewhere in her nature lurked a drop of Southern blood; that -which colored her rich dark skin colored also her mental constitution. -She was filled with romance and yet she had never heard a fairy-tale -or listened to a troubadour’s song, but her soul was on fire at the -relation of a heroic deed, or the unspoken sentiment of a pair of -lovers.</p> - -<p>Lucretia had chosen to teach the little maiden at home; perhaps the -staid father had hesitated to send the worldling into the midst of -temptations such as lurk behind the schoolroom door. His pride in her -ready insight must have been great for he did not scorn knowledge, -although he scorned honors, and Dorcas displayed a<span class="pagenum" id="Page_185">[Pg 185]</span> marvelous aptitude -for study. Even this bore a cross to him. “She is more like a boy than -a girl at books,” he thought, and cherished the memory of every gentle -womanly exhibition.</p> - -<p>Daniel dearly loved Lucretia. She was to him a type of the true wife, -and undemonstrative as he was, little as she would have acknowledged -the wish, there lurked in the heart of each an unspeakable sorrow that -the only child which God had given to their arms should be so unlike -the meek and patient woman, the sweet orthodox saint, who had borne her.</p> - -<p>In 1815 prison reform was a dim dream in the hearts of a few. Men -incline toward a theory of retributive justice, and are keen to assume -the judgment rôle and fasten a stigma to sin, forgetful that although -the sin may be outgrown,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_186">[Pg 186]</span> the stigma rarely is wiped away.</p> - -<p>The orthodoxy of society was as fixed as the theological dogma of that -early day; leniency was license to the common mind; and the culprit was -faced with continual reminders of his guilt as a necessary step toward -repentance.</p> - -<p>The wrath of man, like the wrath of God, was to be known and feared; -the evil-doer was beaten into the path of the righteous, not led by -the law of love. Too much of this spirit exists at the present time, -but seventy-five years ago the force of public opinion tended in that -direction.</p> - -<p>The prisoners were permitted to come forth on Sabbath morning and -listen, many of them with bound limbs, to a long exhortation from the -strait-laced clergy, who pointed a finger of scorn as<span class="pagenum" id="Page_187">[Pg 187]</span> well as reproach -at the guilty, and it was little wonder that their hearts were hardened -by what they heard, and that when they went forth again into the world -it was often with a determination to revenge themselves on society at -large.</p> - -<p>The home of Daniel and Lucretia Chester was a resting place for such -Friends as repaired to that locality for religious purposes, and -Daniel was frequently charged with bearing one of them company to the -county jail, which stood on the outskirts of their little town. Here -he never failed to be impressed with the terrors of sin, and to exhort -his family afterward to tread the straight and narrow way. More than -once Dorcas had been allowed to accompany her father on such visits, -with the idea of permeating the maiden’s consciousness<span class="pagenum" id="Page_188">[Pg 188]</span> with a correct -view of righteous punishment. On such an occasion, when she had just -passed her sixteenth birthday, the Friend who had a “concern” to speak -to the erring, aroused her indignation by his harsh denunciations. So -touched was she that her sympathies far outran her judgment, and in -passing through the room where the prisoners had assembled for worship, -Dorcas let her eyes rove over the throng and tender smiles play about -her mouth. One face among the many never faded from her memory. He was -but a lad, scarcely greater in years than herself, but tall and well -built. His keen glance was riveted to her face from the instant of her -entrance, and when she kindly nodded to the sullen group, this youth -fairly started from his seat.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_189">[Pg 189]</span> His bronze brow, his piercing black -eyes, his clean-cut limbs—all were instantly photographed upon her -mind.</p> - -<p>She lingered a moment at the door, while Daniel turned his carryall, -and as she paused, she was conscious that the boy had reached far over -his companions and was eagerly watching her.</p> - -<p>“Father,” she said, “does thee suppose all those prisoners are really -guilty?”</p> - -<p>“Undoubtedly, Dorcas. It is a sad sight—a sad sight; but there is no -room to doubt that punishment awaits them hereafter as well as here.”</p> - -<p>“I do not believe it,” she said sternly; “that is, dear father, I do -not think our Heavenly Parent will afflict them always, because they -have done wrong once. Would not thee take one of them<span class="pagenum" id="Page_190">[Pg 190]</span> to thy home and -heart after his release just as eagerly as thee would have done before -he was put in prison?”</p> - -<p>“No, I would not. Are we not told that the way of the transgressor is -hard, and are we to set our judgment in defiance of that of the Lord -our God? It is our duty to enforce punishment for sin, to make the -sinner feel his peril, his exclusion, in order that he may repent.”</p> - -<p>“But suppose he has repented?”</p> - -<p>“Then let him come before his Maker and confess.”</p> - -<p>“I think it would be awfully hard, dear father, for me to go before -thee and mother and say I was sorry, after you had so severely shown -your displeasure with me. Now if we held out our hands and welcomed the -sinner home, would he not be more likely to come?<span class="pagenum" id="Page_191">[Pg 191]</span> Was it not so in the -parable of the Prodigal Son?”</p> - -<p>“There be those,” Daniel answered, as if in protest, “who thus construe -the passage, but I believe it not. No man may even turn to his father’s -house until he has been fed on husks.”</p> - -<p>The midsummer heat was upon the land. The red sun set in splendor, and -the blood-dyed moon rose as in wrath.</p> - -<p>The simple little chamber which was Dorcas’ own, had a broad window -opening upon the upper veranda. The small white cot was close at its -side, and the sweet night wind that bore the breath of the wild rose -and the clustering honeysuckle, softly stirred the dark curls that -strayed beneath the border of the muslin cap which the sleeper wore. -The heat was so great that she had<span class="pagenum" id="Page_192">[Pg 192]</span> suffered the strings to remain -untied, and the collar of her plain gown was turned away from the white -throat. She stirred. Was the breath from the garden too free upon her -cheek? Consciousness of some invasion made her restless. Presently her -eyelids quivered and lifted; surely Dorcas was dreaming! and yet, no; -there was a manly figure resting on the sill of the open window. She -sat up, making a quick motion to close the neck of her gown, and tie -the cap strings, but as quickly a voice broke upon her ear.</p> - -<p>“Do not be afraid. I have been here several minutes wanting to tear off -one of those strings, but I knew it would disturb you.”</p> - -<p>Dorcas was never a coward, and her astonishment at this matter-of-fact -statement forbade any outcry.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_193">[Pg 193]</span></p> - -<p>“Who is thee, and what does thee want?” was her commonplace exclamation.</p> - -<p>“I am Henri Beauclaire. I have escaped from the jail. You saw me there. -I found out who you were after I was certain that it was not an angel -who smiled on me last Sunday, and—do not stop me. I only want to tell -you this: when I made up my mind to get out of that mad house, I made -up my mind, too, that I would see you and talk to you before I went -away.”</p> - -<p>The girl was fascinated by the picture. A handsome youth with his soul -blazing in his eyes, sitting upright in the brilliant moonlight that -fell across her bed. There was no evil in his face. She kept silent and -let him speak on.</p> - -<p>“Your name is Dorcas Chester,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_194">[Pg 194]</span> and I want you to know that I never -stole the money I was put in jail for stealing; but they proved I did, -and so I had two whole years to serve if I did not get away from them. -Would not you have tried to get out? That is hell over there.”</p> - -<p>“Yes,” she half whispered.</p> - -<p>“I knew you would. Nothing I can ever do or say will make me anything -in this world but a jail-bird unless I hide. So I am going to France -for a while. My <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">grandpère</i> is there. By and by I will come back, -and you must give me something that I can show you then so that you -will know me, for I shall not look like this.”</p> - -<p>He glanced disdainfully at the poor clothes he wore and reached out a -hand as if to receive an offering.</p> - -<p>“What shall I give thee? I<span class="pagenum" id="Page_195">[Pg 195]</span> have nothing.” A thought of a lock of her -hair was in Dorcas’ mind, but she knew it would be missed, cut as -cleverly as she might. Then came the doubt, too, whether it were right -to thus encourage a culprit!</p> - -<p>“Give me,” Henri said, and his voice was melodious, “give me that cap -string.”</p> - -<p>She shrank back into the shadow. It seemed indelicate to let him touch -her nightgarb.</p> - -<p>“Would it, would it make thee think of leading a better life, of God -and forgiveness and——”</p> - -<p>“It would make me think of you, and that is of God. Forgiveness I need -not, for I never did the deed. No better life ask I than such one as my -<i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">grandpère</i> lives.”</p> - -<p>He reached for the cap string.</p> - -<p>Mechanically Dorcas tore it off and lifted it to his height.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_196">[Pg 196]</span></p> - -<p>The boy looked out at the sweet stars paling under the tropical moon, -then he bent his eyes upon the beautiful girl, and slowly said:</p> - -<p>“I am going now. Remember, I never did it, and keep yourself just -as you are until that day when the white cap string shall come home -again.” He was gone, and Dorcas sat silent for a moment; then the -painful consciousness forced itself upon her that her father’s voice -was calling. She dropped her head upon the pillow, wrapped the sheet -about her throat, and closed her eyes. The voice came nearer. “Dorcas, -Dorcas,” it said; but she did not stir. Her heart was wildly beating -with fear lest the youth of her dream should be pursued, but her parent -went calmly away, and only at breakfast was there any allusion to the -circumstance.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_197">[Pg 197]</span></p> - -<p>“Dorcas, thee talked strangely, last night, in thy sleep.”</p> - -<p>The girl’s face crimsoned as she felt the untruthfulness of her -reply: “How funny that is!” but the motherly eye was not long without -discovering the loss of the nightcap string.</p> - -<p>“Daughter,” she said, “how was it possible for thee to tear thy cap in -this way? It is as though thee had willed to do it and done it with all -thy might.”</p> - -<p>And the girl replied, with some of her hoydenish spirit: “Throw the -old thing away; I have plenty more,” for it seemed as if she could not -tolerate the witness to her secret compact.</p> - -<p>“I am surprised,” answered the gentle mother. “Waste not, want not. -Get thy thimble and thread; here is some muslin, thee can hem another -string.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_198">[Pg 198]</span></p> - -<p>Dorcas did not allow herself to brood over her midnight adventure. -Perhaps she was pained by the part of concealment that she played -toward her parents; perhaps she was troubled, too, by a recollection -of the rebuke contained in the boy’s words. She was sometimes inclined -to feel that he was right and her own little world was wrong in so -strictly upholding law, and in believing the ways of God were at utter -variance from the ways of generous men.</p> - -<p>“I care not to live any better life than that <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">mon grandpère</i> -lives.”</p> - -<p>These words were ringing in her ears, and she pictured to herself the -detail of that life, far enough from reality, no doubt, but a pretty -idyl. She began to read much history, and once asked her mother to -allow her to take French<span class="pagenum" id="Page_199">[Pg 199]</span> lessons from a villager. Lucretia was shocked.</p> - -<p>“Ah, my child! there is little to be read in that tongue that could -benefit thee. Blasphemers and winebibbers they are, with no sense of -shame in their idolatry of sensual things.”</p> - -<p>“Then they are an evil-minded people, mother?”</p> - -<p>“Yea, yea; a frivolous and false-hearted race.”</p> - -<p>Then Dorcas turned away sorrowfully. Could it be that Henri Beauclaire -had told what was not true? If he could steal he might also lie. He -was base had he done both; and if that race was false why was he an -exception among Frenchmen? When this mood was upon her she blushed -alone in her chamber at the thought of the bit of muslin that he so -carefully rolled about<span class="pagenum" id="Page_200">[Pg 200]</span> his finger and put from sight. Mostly, however, -her meditations were concluded with the memory of his respect for the -clean life of his <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">grandpère</i>, and, do as she might, to think him -guilty she could not.</p> - -<p>The years went quickly by. It was a round of simple duties to Dorcas, -enlivened by a keen sense of the beautiful and a quick response to -sympathetic needs. The weeks were much alike. First-day meeting, -followed by the household laundry work. Fourth-day meeting, succeeded -by the mending, sweeping, and baking. This was varied by monthly -meeting day dinner, when several Friends were apt to be seated at -their board, or a drive to a quarterly meeting in a larger community; -and the crowning event—not often enjoyed by Lucretia<span class="pagenum" id="Page_201">[Pg 201]</span> and Dorcas—of -passing a week in the great city at the time of the yearly gathering. -It was on one of the latter occasions that Dorcas met and became much -interested in a young man who was welcomed by Daniel as the son of a -dear and distant friend. She had never mingled with youth a great deal, -and George Townsend’s quick wit and good temper were a source of great -pleasure to her. She had no idea of marriage in her mind, and when, -after months of intimate acquaintance, he directly asked her to become -his wife, she shrank from him as if he had struck her.</p> - -<p>“Does thee feel that I have done wrong?” he gently questioned.</p> - -<p>“No,” she stammered; but a strange vision of flashing dark eyes and an -earnest injunction to<span class="pagenum" id="Page_202">[Pg 202]</span> “keep just as you are now” made her faint.</p> - -<p>“Will thee let me dwell upon thy request in solitude?” she said, and -the honest-hearted man made answer:</p> - -<p>“Thee is right to question thy own soul. If there thee finds a single -cloud, wait until the light cometh.”</p> - -<p>When Dorcas sat alone she covered her face with both hands and a few -tears trickled between her fingers. Presently she wiped them away, and -began to question herself as she would have questioned another.</p> - -<p>“Why do I hesitate? I am greatly drawn toward George Townsend. Father -and mother regard him highly; he is a God-fearing man, capable and -conscientious; he is a member of our meeting; his business can<span class="pagenum" id="Page_203">[Pg 203]</span> be -readily arranged so that we may live near my dear parents and bless -their declining years. Why not?”</p> - -<p>To so pure a maiden, one whose affections had never keenly asserted -themselves nor been lightly trifled with, the idea of having granted -unasked the treasure of her love was in itself a reproach.</p> - -<p>Dorcas paled in view of the thought to which she felt it right to give -definite shape; then she walked restlessly toward the window where once -sat the dark-eyed lad, and she said, honestly and bravely:</p> - -<p>“Until to-day the actual meaning of that charge, to ‘keep as you are,’ -never occurred to me. Am I certain that he intended that bit of muslin -to typify my faith—faith to him personally? or was it, as I vaguely -comprehended<span class="pagenum" id="Page_204">[Pg 204]</span> it then, faith that I would be the same in my just -dealing with his apparent shortcomings? Who can tell? It is six years -since he went away. Perhaps he died before seeing his <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">grandpère</i> -again. Perhaps he forgot the place where he suffered so much; or found -his beautiful ancestral home too lovely to leave. Perhaps—” and this -hurt her, but she thought it fair to admit the doubt, “perhaps he -fell into evil ways again. And, indeed, had he been all that my dream -pictured, would he not, within six years, have found an opportunity to -communicate with me? Surely I deserved it.”</p> - -<p>Then came another question; “Would I have married him, had he come back -with a clean record and a demand for my love? Could I have given my -life into the hand of an utter stranger, a<span class="pagenum" id="Page_205">[Pg 205]</span> foreigner of whose race I -know no good? Would my father and mother have blessed me and bade me -go to my husband’s arms with joy? No, it could not have been, and I -could not have done it without. Should Henri return tomorrow for the -fulfillment of such a desire, I should bid him leave me. Is it right to -marry George Townsend with this secret in my heart? Ought I to reveal -it, reveal my doubts and struggles concerning it? No. I should be quite -willing to place my hand in his and say, ‘George, whatever thee has -in thy heart that thee wishes to tell me, that do I wish to hear; but -whatever trials thee has passed through and honestly left behind thee, -with those I have no question.’</p> - -<p>“Could I let George go from me and live my life alone, without<span class="pagenum" id="Page_206">[Pg 206]</span> a pang -because of his absence? No, I could not. Therefore, O Lord, with a -clean heart I will walk beside him, asking daily grace from thy hand, -and humbly seeking to serve thee through serving him.”</p> - -<p>She bathed her flushed face, smoothed the curls away, and went into the -garden. There among the sweet-peas and the rich clove-pinks, she laid -her hand in that of her lover and simply said:</p> - -<p>“My heart tells me I will be a true wife unto thee.”</p> - -<p>The next decade wrought a great change in Dorcas. The vivacity that she -had seemed so likely to lose under the stern repression of her parents, -assumed the semblance of loving good cheer. Her beauty as a matron -surpassed that of her girlhood,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_207">[Pg 207]</span> and it became a matter of merrymaking -in the household that a stranger never passed her without turning to -look a second time. Her sweet spirit was overflowing with thankfulness -for the great blessing of fervid affection from so manly and upright a -companion as George Townsend. Indeed, if ever the taint of pride clung -to Dorcas it was when she thought of her husband.</p> - -<p>A little maiden had for eight years walked beside her. A faithful -representative of the Chester household. Truly, if Daniel had regretted -his own daughter’s alien features, he was content now in the miniature -Lucretia whose demure air was a marked contrast to the flashing wit of -her dark-eyed mother.</p> - -<p>The village, too, was changed. Through George Townsend’s exertions<span class="pagenum" id="Page_208">[Pg 208]</span> -manufacturing interests flourished, and although wealth was pouring -into his coffers, the comfort of a thousand lesser households told of -just dealing between man and man. But the old jail still stood on the -highway, and its barred windows were lengthened to a half score. The -same fiery brick walls, the same foul atmosphere, the same class of -inhabitants were closed behind the multitudinous bolts and bars. The -passer-by winced as he heard the loud laugh or the fearful curse; and -the faces that pressed against the iron casement were faces of the -young and the old, of women as well as men, and gathered from the ranks -of first offenders as well as those of the hardened criminals.</p> - -<p>One morning, while yet Dorcas sat at the head of the breakfast table, -dispensing as much of cheer<span class="pagenum" id="Page_209">[Pg 209]</span> by her sunny face as from the viands, a -message was brought requesting her presence at the county jail. It -was no unusual occurrence for the mother to be thus summoned from her -peaceful home to smooth the path of the unrighteous, and very shortly -she stepped from her carriage into the door of the plague spot of the -neat village. She was met by the jailer’s wife, a coarse woman, but not -untouched with good intentions.</p> - -<p>“I was sorry to send for you,” she said, “but a queer-looking man -was let in last night, who has been bleeding at the lungs, and all I -could do and say was nothing till I promised to fetch you early this -morning. He hadn’t ought to been here, I ’spose, but Thomas found him -sitting on the doorstep, and rattling the latch, and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_210">[Pg 210]</span> when he asked -to be let in and Thomas said as it was a jail, he up and told a queer -story about once having broke out; and anyways it wasn’t right to leave -him out there a-bleedin’, so I put him in one of my rooms; he seemed -decent-like.”</p> - -<p>An unaccustomed horror crept over Dorcas. She had to steady herself -against the door-post for a moment before following the woman into the -cramped little chamber.</p> - -<p>Half-sitting upon the bed, surrounded with pillows and cloths stained -with blood, was Henri Beauclaire. His eyes flashed with the old -intensity, but from amid the pallor of a countenance wasted with -disease.</p> - -<p>“Stand there,” he whispered hoarsely; and motioning to the jailer’s -wife to go out, he fastened<span class="pagenum" id="Page_211">[Pg 211]</span> his gaze on Dorcas’ half-frightened face.</p> - -<p>“Look at me, woman; do you know me?”</p> - -<p>She bowed her head.</p> - -<p>“Do you know what this is?” he said again, as he drew from his breast a -bit of soiled and yellow muslin.</p> - -<p>“This is a betrothal ring. Yes, I tell you, by this you plighted your -troth to me, and by the heavens above, you have broken your faith.”</p> - -<p>Dorcas made motion as if to answer.</p> - -<p>“Stop,” he said. “You can have nothing to say; it is I who must relieve -my bursting heart. Do you know what this is?” laying his finger on the -bright stains. “This is my life-blood, and you have spilled it. When -I came over sea I had a cough, and they<span class="pagenum" id="Page_212">[Pg 212]</span> told me I needed care, but -I laughed them to scorn, for I said to myself, when once I am there, -where her gentle hands can smooth the pain away and her sweet smile -bring back the light to my eyes, all will be well. Do you know how it -was with me during these years? When, after being hunted like a wild -beast from wood to cavern, from hill to seaport, at last I stood by my -<i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">grandpère</i>, his heart was filled with joy—for I was his only -descendant left on earth, and on me he leaned feeble and childish. I -could not leave him for an hour without reproach; how could I come -to you? Year after year he lingered, and although I starved for your -smile, I believed in you, and God knows, had I suspected the awful -truth of your unfaithfulness, I should have done the same. Heaven -itself could<span class="pagenum" id="Page_213">[Pg 213]</span> not have lured me from that poor man, whose dying -blessing is sounding in my ears this day. When I had laid him away, -scarce three months ago, and found that the old chateau with its -thousands of meters of rich garden and tillage was mine, I bounded for -my passport, I dreamed of naught else than a return to build a family -worthy of the saintly dead.</p> - -<p>“Would you know the rest? How I came in the dusk to the village street -and crept in the shadow to your father’s door, feeling that I could -not at once bear the blaze of your beauty. When I had seen the old man -open the casement and sit in the moonlight with a child upon his knee, -my heart misgave me. Fainting for food, for I had been too eager to -eat, I crept back to the inn. Slowly I questioned the <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">garçon</i> -concerning<span class="pagenum" id="Page_214">[Pg 214]</span> the people of the village, and gradually the truth -dawned—you were untrue! I was like a madman that night. I wore a track -in the floor, I doubt not, with my restless pacing, and when day broke -I went forth with a wild intent to do murderous work. All through the -hours of sunlight I examined the mill, and the dwelling-place where a -false heart was beating, and at night I planned to carry out my work of -destruction. I would fire the mill and the house and take care that, -so quick would leap the flames, that no escape would be possible. And -if, through some strange fatality, my plot was defeated, there, in the -fierce distraction of a great conflagration, I would rush upon you with -my knife and stab you to your death! Yes,” he leaned forward and hissed -the words,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_215">[Pg 215]</span> “the woman who has taught me that there is no faith, that -God and honor and love are myths, ought to die by the hand of the man -whom she has wrecked.”</p> - -<p>Again Dorcas stirred, and again he waved her into silence.</p> - -<p>“And what was your excuse? Six years of silence. What were they to me? -Six centuries might have waned, and I should have kept my faith. When -I looked at this trysting string, I said alway and ever the same: ‘She -is as strong as the threads she tore with so great an effort; she will -never waver.’</p> - -<p>“What was the good of nature’s brand that you bear: the mark of -unyielding purpose, of faith and love as firm as God’s foundation, as -broad as the firmament—you belie them all. There you stand now with -your great eyes shining<span class="pagenum" id="Page_216">[Pg 216]</span> as if a <em>soul</em> dwelt behind them; your -rich smooth skin blooming with the color and purity of nature, not -artifice; your red lips curved with a smile you cannot repress, and yet -I swear you are as false as hell!</p> - -<p>“Only this”—he touched the crimson stains—“only this defeated my -plan, and enabled you to breath the sweet spring air once more; only -this has made it possible for me to die cursing you with my latest -breath without dealing that blow at your heart that should have mingled -our blood in one stream.”</p> - -<p>The exhausted man fell back upon his pillows, and Dorcas crept to his -side and smoothed the rich waves of jet-black hair, and with a wet -sponge moistened his lips. Presently he opened his eyes, and before he -could speak she said calmly:</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_217">[Pg 217]</span></p> - -<p>“I am going to take thee to our home. George Townsend will help me to -nurse thee back to life and peace. I will tell thee, now, that I never -knew thy full intent in asking me for the cap string; had I known it I -should not have given it, for thy reason and my own would have rebelled -against an alliance wholly at variance with Nature’s laws. Thee did -not love <em>me</em>, the girl; thee loved my <em>faith</em>, my trust in -thy honesty; and I bid thee go on loving it, for I shall trust thee -now, just as I trusted thee then. I believed thee innocent of the -crime for which thee had been confined. I believed it only because -thee said it was so, and thy face told the same story. I believe in -thee now, in despite thy <em>words</em>, for thy soul is speaking more -truly through thy glance, and that tells me that thy devotion to<span class="pagenum" id="Page_218">[Pg 218]</span> thy -<i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">grandpère</i> was no myth, while thy frenzy is. Thee shall find thy -faith in me is rewarded, for thee shall live to be one of our household -and to bless us all with thy goodness.”</p> - -<p>She ceased speaking, summoned the jailer’s wife, and had the sick man -borne to her carriage.</p> - -<p>When she had reached her own door Dorcas entered alone, and quietly -spoke to her husband, who still sat by the breakfast table.</p> - -<p>“George, I have brought home a very ill man; will thee please attend to -his removal from the carriage while I prepare a bed? I shall put him -into the little room next our own that I may the more carefully tend -him.”</p> - -<p>That night, as Dorcas sat late by the invalid’s side, the only word -that he spoke was the whispered question:</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_219">[Pg 219]</span></p> - -<p>“Are you not afraid?”</p> - -<p>And as she bent over him tenderly she answered:</p> - -<p>“Not for a moment do I fear thee; I only wish thee well.”</p> - -<p>Slowly the strength came to the feeble pulse, but when the frail man -was permitted to leave his sick bed, it was found that his cough became -less frequent and his fever had subsided. Then, too, he was moved into -a large upper chamber, the best the house afforded, and although the -kind attentions of Dorcas were unremitted, he lost all sense of care or -espionage. Gradually he recognized himself as a member of the family, -and never was there any allusion to his advent or expected departure. -Before many months he was the dear “uncle,” of the household, taking -his part in all that went on; teaching the little<span class="pagenum" id="Page_220">[Pg 220]</span> Lucretia; reading -aloud bits of quaint wisdom or humor, from “Le Roman de la Rose,” and -“Le Roman du Renart;” pages from Froissart, his beloved Pascal, and La -Bruyère; or listening to the many schemes for lifting the burdens of -others that were constantly suggested by George or Dorcas.</p> - -<p>From 1820 to 1830 there was a great awakening on the subject of Prison -Reform. The work of England’s noble Howard had been supplemented by -that of the devoted Elizabeth Fry, and the whole world rang with their -achievements. Slow, alas! was the motion across the water, but sure in -its coming.</p> - -<p>Henri Beauclaire, too feeble to exert great physical effort, was keenly -alive to the necessity of introducing humanitarian methods<span class="pagenum" id="Page_221">[Pg 221]</span> in all -places for the confinement of the accused.</p> - -<p>He labored unceasingly toward an enlargement and purification of the -county jail, for separate day rooms for the men and women, for decent -food and lavatories, and for constant occupation. In all he did Henri -was warmly seconded by his true friends, and when at last the summons -came that called him from their midst, no one among the villagers was -more regretted.</p> - -<p>In the short will which was found amid his small effects, he had -bequeathed the old chateau to his native town as a home for such -discharged prisoners as were friendless and aged, and the closing -clause read thus:</p> - -<p>“To my more than sister, my earthly savior, Dorcas Townsend, I leave -the testimony of my later<span class="pagenum" id="Page_222">[Pg 222]</span> years, and the contents of my strong-box.”</p> - -<p>This contained some valuable silver and household linen bearing a -coronet, and a sandalwood casket wherein reposed a yellow muslin cap -string.</p> - -<p>In the evening following the burial Dorcas sat with her family about -her on the moonlit porch. She slid her hand softly into that of her -husband, and said:</p> - -<p>“George dear, thee has never asked me, but I should like to tell thee, -the secret of my peculiar interest in our brother who has passed away.”</p> - -<p>Then my grandame told the story, and the accurate memory of my mother -gave it unto me as it is written.</p> - -<p>At its conclusion her husband kissed her flushed cheek, saying:</p> - -<p>“Thine was ever a romantic<span class="pagenum" id="Page_223">[Pg 223]</span> nature, and were romance always controlled -by reason, how many lives might blossom into joy and usefulness, as did -that of our beloved Henri.”</p> - - -<p class="center p4">THE END.</p> - - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2 class="nobreak" id="IN_UNIFORM_STYLE">IN UNIFORM STYLE:</h2> -</div> - - -<h3>THE PRISONER OF ZENDA:</h3> - - - -<p class="center">Being the History of Three Months in the Life of an English Gentleman. -By <span class="smcap">Anthony Hope</span>. 16mo, 75 cents.</p> - - - -<p>“A grand story.... It is dignified, quick in action, thrilling, -terrible.... There is everything that is exciting and turbulent, -and nothing that is too extravagant to be possible with desperate -men fighting for so great an issue as the throne of a ‘powerful -province.’... A great writer, and there is no flaw either in -the design, execution, or wording of a really most ingenious -tale.”—<i>Chicago Herald.</i></p> - -<p>“The author is a born story-teller, and has, moreover, a very pretty -wit of his own.”—<i>The Outlook.</i></p> - - -<h3>A SUBURBAN PASTORAL.</h3> - - - -<p class="center">And Other Tales. By <span class="smcap">Henry A. Beers</span>. 16mo, 75 cents.</p> - - -<p>Contents: A Suburban Pastoral—A Midwinter Night’s Dream—A Comedy -of Errors—Declaration of Independence—Split Zephyr—A Graveyard -Idyl—Edric the Wild and the Witch Wife—The Wine-Flower.</p> - - - -<h3>QUAKER IDYLS.</h3> - -<p class="center"> By <span class="smcap">Mrs. S. M. H. Gardner</span>. 16mo, 75 cents.</p> - - -<p>Contents: Twelfth Street Meeting—A Quaker Wedding—Two -Gentlewomen—Our Little Neighbors—Pamelia Tewksbury’s Courtship—Some -Ante-Bellum Letters from a Quaker Girl—Uncle Joseph—My Grandame’s -Secret.</p> - -<h3>JOHN INGERFIELD.</h3> - -<p class="center">And Other Stories. By <span class="smcap">Jerome K. Jerome</span>. -16mo, 75 cents.</p> - - -<p>Contents: John Ingerfield—The Woman of the Saeter—Variety -Patter—Silhouettes—The Lease of the Cross-Keys.</p> - - -<p class="center big p2">HENRY HOLT & CO.,<br> -Publishers,      New York.<br> -</p> - -<hr class="tb"> - -<h3>Jerome’s John Ingerfield;</h3> - -<p><b>The Woman of the Saeter</b>, <b>Silhouettes</b>, <b>Variety -Patter</b>, and <b>The Lease of the Cross-keys</b>. The title-story -(half the book) and the two that follow are in serious vein. With -portrait of Jerome and illustrations. Small 16mo. 75 cents.</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p>“This dainty little volume, contrived to look like a tall folio -in miniature ... the creepy Norwegian ghost story (<i>The Woman -of the Saeter</i>) ... the vague but picturesque sketch called -<i>Silhouettes</i>.... The first (<i>John Ingerfield</i>) is a very -sweet and pathetic love story ... true to the best there is in human -nature ... many diverse traits of character and striking incidents -being compressed within its narrow limits.... It is a good thing to -write an honest, wholesome, old-fashioned love story like <i>John -Ingerfield</i>.”—<i>New York Times.</i></p> - -<p>“Rare combination of true pathos and thoroughly modern humor.”—<i>The -Churchman.</i></p> - -<p>“<i>Variety Patter</i> and <i>The Lease of the Cross-keys</i> are -in lighter vein; the former having delicious humorous touches, and -the latter being in its entirety a very clever conceit.”—<i>Boston -Times.</i></p> - -<p>“A charming story.”—<i>Literary World.</i></p> - -<p>“A charming little story.”—<i>London Athenæum.</i></p> - -<p>“Quaint and attractive in the extreme.”—<i>Philadelphia Call.</i></p> - -<p>“<i>The Woman of the Saeter</i> is weird and strange, and told with -much art.”—<i>Outlook.</i></p> - -<p>“An exquisite love story ... like fine gold in its value.”—<i>Chicago -Herald.</i></p> - -<p>“One of the sweetest, saddest stories we have ever read.”—<i>Chicago -Times.</i></p> - -<p>“One of the best short stories that has appeared in some -time.”—<i>Detroit Free Press.</i></p> - -<p>“A delightful story.”—<i>Hartford Post.</i></p> - -<p>“... The book will not be put down until all are -finished.”—<i>Baltimore American.</i></p> -</div> - - -<p class="center big p2">HENRY HOLT & CO.,<br> -29 West 23d Street, New York.<br> -</p> - - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - -<div class="chapter transnote"> -<h2 class="nobreak" id="Transcribers_Notes">Transcriber’s Notes</h2> - - -<p>Errors in punctuation have been fixed.</p> - -<p><a href="#Page_32">Page 32</a>: “henceforth seprate” changed to “henceforth separate”</p> -</div> -<div style='display:block; margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK QUAKER IDYLS ***</div> -<div style='text-align:left'> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will -be renamed. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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