Fifty years ago
page: (TitlePage) [View Page (TitlePage) ]IFTY YEARS 41 A STORY OF NEW ENGLAND LIF CLARA A. WILLARD Aut1hor of "May Chester," 'Nellie Gra Eto, Etc. j K NEW YORK: ANSON D. F. RANDQLPH & COMPA 170.BROADWAY, CoB. 9TH STaEET. 'GO E. tyson," NY ., ' ,. i ,;'" s: 3 ;e 4"r . 1 eG, "1. t77.A . 3 ; . \i [{{n } 91 a. ,/ , tf ° C6 ' dl ,1 .1 'N7 ,tt ' i :r '; il'+ .c ' 'j r Y , , .,°.ilra r° dt ac:fA k'uMh' .3 .i!-'e',:, ad ^ i4; s'+ b n. . k ,, Y (; t t s ,.' e of 1 r' u . ,t ,. ''!, : : l t,+.,,r ; 3 i'. ,,? ' tt'tgx' 3t .ems~f? jp :;j , ' a', '}^, tiJ'+'1 page: 0-3 (Table of Contents) [View Page 0-3 (Table of Contents) ] Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1871, by ANsor D. F. RANDOLPn & Co., In the Office of the .ibrarian of Congress. Ix1 EDWARD 0. JENKINS, PRINTER AND STEREOTYPER, No.20 N. WILLIAM STREET, N. Y. ) 4 [1 -.T: N H )OC EC CONT ENTS. CHAPTER I. I PROPfsITION, CHAPTER II. REDUCTION TO THE FAMILY CHAPER III. is REALLY ACCOMPLISHED, CHAPTER IV. THE AY, . . « CHAPTER V. I AnItAL, .. CHAPTER VI. :DENTS F THE VISIT, CHAPTER VIL REWARDD BOtND," . CHAPTER VIII. TOR ATLERTON, NKS~lLIN, . 'CHAPTER IX. CHAPTER X. [TATIO S, 7 ". 19 " 81 49 66 78 S 92 103 1.12 * 124. WI 9 oil - ' ' , ,,, , e; . I; I I I I I a , . . . - F ., . , . . page: 4 (Table of Contents) -5[View Page 4 (Table of Contents) -5] 4 CONTENTS. CHAPTER XI. SUMMER DAYS, . CHAPTER XII. LEAVE-TAKINGS, CHAPTER XIII. THE JOURNEY, . CHAPTER XIV. THE NEW HOME, * . CHAPTER XV. HOW THE DAYS WENT ON, CHAPTER XVI. DEVELOPMENTS, CHAPTER LXVII. PERPLEXITIES, CHAPTER XVIII. RESULTS OF EARLY TRAINING, CHAPTER XIX. THE BEACH PARTY, CHAPTER XX. BEECUFORD AGAIN, CHAPTER XXI. A WEDDING, ' ." CHAPTER XtII. ANOTHER FAMILY CHANGE, CHAPTER XXIII. CONcLUSION, , . 187 155 169 187 200 215 226 289 254 272 286 808 812' U T / ze set " a1 ret of the Lord is with them that fear d Z/e wit? show them His covenant" 3~ J. i ,. , r ;t ~its ^ { i , t. . e ' _'1i1 , . f i ., - "'- i r page: 6-7[View Page 6-7] FIFTY YEARS AGO. CHAPTER I. THE PROPOSITION. [~OTHER, has Ernest come ?" said Grace Winthrop, as she came into the cool milk- room, here, with housewifely pride, a quiet ma- t on stood counting the bright rows of tin pans which adorned the shelves. "Ernest!" said her mother, as .if only a sound fell on her occupied thoughts. "Twenty-four pans of mil ; the weather is' getting so warm that I must make cheese instead of butter this week.'' "Why, mother ! you seem to dare more for the butter and cheese than you do for me. I have been waiting for Ernest a long time. I thought it was such a lovely evening he would take me to Julia Thorn's." " I haven't seen him, child, since he came in to supper, I suppose he, is very'tired, and perhaps gone to bed.. You are rather late. -Was n't grand- ma as well as usual?" Ye;ma'am; but; I thought father told Ernest he must go to mill after supper. I waited to ride home with him. Ukcle Henry .came with me to. page: 8-9[View Page 8-9] 8 FIFTY YEARS' AGO. the foot of'ttie hill. -I'm sorry Ernest has gom bed, wanted to see Julia a little while to-night erhaps he has not. I've been too busy to hi You can surely find him if-you set a it." On went Grace through the great, old kitc through the sitting-room beyond, and out into porch. This porch fwas a cool, inviting. place, benches on each side of it. Its cover was a qu gable roof, shiglding it from the broad sunli and from the storm. Lilac bushes grown to tr threw their Fragrance into it in May, and double roses' 'udded, blossomed, and scattered t fading leaves on its benches and floor in J Just outside the gate, stood an i old elm tree broad-spreadipg that its shadows fell over the w front of the house and covered the little yard; night it let the moonbeams through, reveal Ernest, sitting without his' coat, on the stone s of the porch, his elbows resting on his knees, his face covered with his hands. ' Here you. are, naughty brother !" said Gr coming close up to him. "Why did n't you to' mill, I waited a great while for you. I Juli4 .Thorn this morning, and told her I thou we would con;e there this evening." . "You must not make any promises for me, Gr until harvest is over. Yeu know I'm too harc work all day to care to .go ou't evenings. A oh ! I do get so tired of this perpetual round sowing and reaping ; it's plant, and hoe, and si and mow, until I sometimes wish I was in the mt ien, the ith int, ght, ees, big, eir ne. so ole to- ing eps and ce, go aw ht ce, at nd, of iw, ]id" FIFT dle of the ocean, I wanted to study th teach chool next early i the mornin always find father is pleasa tly, ' Now, E start, t e birds have we'll nake it up as t Ican't tell him I wa reallyta'eeds my help it "up at noon, but t has so 'many little er stopping to see if sh eyes are so heavy th my resolutions to t my going outeveni old as father now." Down perched Gr and for a moment he ness, but the light and looking him -f never saw such a fa always busy, Annie now you are talking idle, though mother deal of time. I .am hive of bees. I won "I suppose so, fath good health, and m must work. I wish ' world outside of a f was a little boy, that Eagle~ Mountain, 'I c Y YEARS AGO. 9.. Lear out of sight ,of land. " I is summer, and get ready to inter, but if I get up ever so g to have an hour to myself, I ahead of me, and he says so nest, our work will get a good been -singing this long time, hey do, by going to bed early.' it an hour to myself, when ho so much. I think I will make en mother looks so tired, and rands to do, that I cannot help wants me. And at night my at they will shut up in spite of e contrary. Don't talk about igs with young folks;. I am as ace close by her brother's side, r blue eyes were veiled in sad- within broke through them, Ily in the face, she said: "I ily ! Father and mother are has a great many cares, and the same way. I am never and Annie say I waste a great sure. the children are- like a er if it is so in every family." er says that people who have ean to accomplish anything, could see something of the. rm. I used'to think.when I 'f I could climb to the top of uld .look over and find out page: 10-11[View Page 10-11] Io FIFTY YEARS AGO. what they were doing on the other side o world, but, alas ! I've climbed Eagle Mountain find it only as farms beyond it. Now, I hay other wish, don't. you tell anybody,. Grace, if tell you some hing." "No!" said Grace, in a half whisper, as if denly impressed with the importance of her b er's thoughts.' "Well, then, I've got a plan in my head. not mean to tell you quite yet, but you are so to see a way out of difficulties, that I might a engage your services." "Not to g~o away from home, Ernest." "Hush, Grace! don't you speak so lou have n't forrped any plans yet. I was only to tell you what I keep thinking about. Youk father sometimes speaks of his brother Edw who lives in Boston. I heard him tell mothe night that he had not been at home in twenty y they were wondering why he never comes ba the old place. Father said he -supposed his tion, to business first took all of his time, and his habits were different from the old ways at h and all his 'nterests were different. Mother she should like to see him once more, but she posed she never should. 'No,' said father, and I shall never look him up, but: some o boys may' That thought was just the thi needed. ather little-dreamed what he was for me when Sie said it. I have been fully deter to go somewhere this fall, but where was the Il could not reach. Now, I know, I'm goin Boston to fitid Uncle Ed ward, nd you must FIFTY YEARS AGO. f the and e an. will sud- oth- did good well d. I oing now ard, r last ears ; k to evo- now om e, said sup. you our g I oing' ied point to help me off. If Uncle he'll be glad to see besides." "Ernest !" said ( on his shoulder, " Boston and Uncle " You go with quite surprised at heartily. "You k I doubt if she thin and you, who are thoughtlessness, sh years to come, I in f'"I don't know Sometimes I think make butter and c not as careful as A idle. I do a greal I can't help loving after the-brooks no go to school more, "How would yo "I don't believe variety. I'm going if I do not!" "Why, Grace," know what you ar "Yes, I do, I thi made, only I shoul have left me out together; come," s him. "Having de whe. we. will set a .A II 3dward is anything like father, me, and give me an idea or two race, laying her hand suddc nly I'll go with you, I want to 'see Edward, too!" me!" said Ernest, in his turn, Grace's adopting his plan so now mother would not let you. ks me old enough to go alone ; always worrying her by your e will keep in her sight for some agine." that mother does me justice.. she does not. I do not love to heese, or wash dishes, and I am nnie, but you know I am never many things about the. house. birds and flowers, and running v and then, and I should love to and learn a great deal." u like teaching school ?" I should like it. I want more to Boston with you. Just see said her brother, "you don't talking about." nk it is the wisest plan you evor I not have thought you would )f it. ,You know we always go aid she, drawing very close to cided to ,go, let's plan hoTc and way,' as Aunt Nannie says." page: 12-13[View Page 12-13] 12 FII'Y YEARS AGO. '3 " We / Grace, you astonish me ! I tho you would favor my going, and -Ro m re'than body else to help m off, but I neve thoug your going 4ith me.AYou know you cannot." "Why not? I want to travel just as muc you do., I would ot be afraid to go anywhe the world with yo ." "Suppose sho id go on horsebac ?" "You won't gd on horseback. I you' d borrow grandmother's pillion and rid behind Don't you k 'ow," added she, coaxingly, " that will have a 4reat deal better times if I am you.? Uncle| has a daughter, too. he mus older than I am, but no nattell.for that. I'm teen, and you are eighteen. I think enough to see something of the world " A pretty couple! mother will say. you will spoil it all, if you persist in g I am going, and I won't spoil iteil let's plan how we will go ; let me tell Just for the sake of hearing her children ! hokn e is the place for young won't take such a journey as that till yo deal older than you are now.' if yo her, and get her willing to have me a good plan to let her into the secret let me tell her when I have a. ood yes, quick, fou here she comes now." Before Er est had time to discuss any farther, - rs. Winthrop came int and sat down in an oaken chair, whic as old as the family mansion. She wa the toils of the day, and had _come ot eight ny- t of as e in I'll ou. you ith t be six- cool evening btee; "Grace," said she,0 of work for you to " What is it, mc for an answer, she to make cheese !" "'No," said Mrs, care of the ,cheese member that bundle ret ? It belonged t to do it did not.see " Mother ! sit sti Oh, I never can: w "No, the winter we are old Now, G oing." her. C mother." say 'No, folks. u are a i will tal o, it ma t. You chance; the ma ) the po h was ne 3 weary t to get ace; me, no, ou ood k to be will say tter ch, rly with the ze before retiring for the night. " I've been thinking of a piece do." there ?" Then, without waiting added, "I hope it is n't to learn Winthrop, smiling,' "I'll take for the present. Do you re- e o flax yet unspun in the gar- o t e winter work, but the time m to come." 11 and spin these warm days! ait until next winter !" will bring plenty of work for whoever lives to se it. I think you can find the time, if you have a will to do it, this summer." "Well, mother," said Grace, turning suddenly around and laying her head caressingly upon. her mother's lap, "let' you and I make a' little busi- ness arrangement. I'll promise to spin every bit of that flax beautifuIly, if you will promise to let me go somewhere.' Ernest looked u with a start. He had great faith in a certain tact which his sister possessed, but now he.though her enthusiasm had bewildered her judgment,-and all of his plans were spoilt by this premature dis losure. But Grace was clear- seeing; she knew that her mother, soothed by the quiet of the household, and cheered by the pres- ence. of her children,i.as in a' good mood to listen to a little "foolish tal," as she sometimes called Grace's playful sallies. Ernest was a noble boy; and as Mrs. Winthrop's fond eye rested on him, 4 & .FI. 'TYY YEARS AGO. r . '" . _ F .. ,:A-_ page: 14-15[View Page 14-15] FIFTY YEARS AGO. she saw he 1ookel troubled and car added touch of tenderness came o ",Mother is g ing to listen," sai! mother smiled in spite of herself. Will promise to let me go somewher in-this is July-well, then, in Octobe suit us, Erinest ?" said she, raising 1 looking at her astonished brother. "I've not ing to say, Grace; yo the businessso suddenly and so th your own hands, that I am waiting t as much as brother is." '.' In Octqber, then," said Grace hand back irk its resting-place. " I wi flax, and make rows of cheeses, if y say 'yes' to our going." " Do you expect me to hire you to "No, mother;.I know you too well but I want you to promise me this g want you to promise right here, to-ni "I never make a- promise without it can be kept. You may tell me wL and I will promise to think about it thing you really care for, Ernest ?" "Yes, mother, it is something I hay ing about, but Grace has shaped it ou that I hardly know whether it is her p "Ernest, you are the best brother but you kndw you think about a thi don't know what you would do wi finish up yo r plans." "What u would dd without hi back, you mean," said Mrs. Winthroj worn, an per her Grace, Now, if e with E r ; won't er head i have t )roughly hear, al laying 1 spin al rou will be dutif to ask great fav ght." knowing at you . Is its e been t t so sud lan or m in the w ig so lo thout d an face. and you nest that and aken into most her the only Sl?" that, r. I how want, ome- Eink- enly mie." rld ! g; I e to "Well, mother, Ernest thought this all out him- self; only he did not put me in, which made it very incomplete. I know you will think so when you hear it." " If you tell me, you will have to get to it pretty soon, for it is bed-time now," said Mrs. Winthrop. With another look at her brother, from which. se .gathered neither encouragement nor discour- agement Grace said: "Ernest and I want to go to Boston, to visit Uncle Edward." "Boston! child, do you know where that is,,or what you are talking about ?" and good Mrs. Win- throp fairly raised her hands in astonishment at the wild proposition. "I do, mother, and I really mean what I say. I don't think it would be such a very wonderful thing for Ernest and I to go to Boston. You always say you think I am safe if he is with me. I heard you tell father that we balanced each other very nicely. Of course, I wouldn't think of your trusting him alone," added she, looking archly at her silent brother," but we, Ernest and Grace Winthrop, could find' our way to Boston and back again, and tell you-all wonderful stories' of our adventures. Come, say '.yes,' please, mother." "Why, don't you-know, mychild,. that if I should say 'yes,' it would not help you ? You have neither mo ey nor clothes. You do not even know the way, and, if you did, you have no means of conveyance; and, if you, had, do' you suppose I would consent to two such children going off to find the way alone to a strange city, to find a strange uncle who might; not be glad to see them, after all. Come, come, n to holk you *, FIFTY YEARS AGO. i5 r14 page: 16-17[View Page 16-17] 16 FIFTY YEARS AGO. Grace, it's time you were in bed, with of waking up with something more rat young head ; ' and Mrs. Winthrop ma rise, which somewhat disturbed that head, and brought a face so shapely character dir ctly to her view, that sh patted the fair cheek. " Wait a minute, mother. Promis you go, that ou will think of this. I e would say 'rno,' at first, but if you wi of it, I shallihave great hopes." " You must talk to your father abo what he says," ,and Mrs. Winthrop that she had quite settled the matter ring it to "father.". " If I should ask him to-morrow, h 'What does your mother say?' You really liked it, he would by and by thi excellent plan." "What has Grace got into her head ber sister Annie, as she came into th sat down upon the steps. "I thought was tired and sleepy, and gone to bed.' "I wonder how you could remeibe is ' tired' and 'sleepy,' when you were moonlight with Sanford Ross. I don Eels as old as' father, do you, Ernest ? Annie, I don' care what nice rides you, will onlyWhelp me get mother's co roing to Boston." " Boston ! Why, Grace, what are bout ?" " Don't say 'Boston !' Annie, just as FIFTY YEARS AGO. the prospect onal in your e a move to same young and full of e insensibly me, before xpected you l only think t it, and see rose, feeling y thus refer- would say, now, if you nk it was an now," said porch and every body such words riding in the 't believe he But come, ou have, if sent to our, ou talking i I had said going to the moon. I do n't think it, is quite out of. the world, and Iam sure we can find it,' if mother only says 'yes' to it. I'll help you sew for the boys all winter, and when you go to housekeeping, I'll outdo Mother Ross in her plans for your comfort. Come; Annie."' "Come where? I'm sure I don't know what new idea has got into your head since you went to grandmother's this morning. Have grandfather and grandmother taken it into their heads to go traveling, and want you to go with them?" "No, Annie! Ernest and I are going," and then, as quickly as possible, she told the delightful plan which by this time seemed to belong to her as much as it did to her brother. Mrs. Winthrop and Annie exchanged glances ; they were accustomed to Grace's rapid conclu- sions, and, strange to say, were often oblig d to admit their correctness; but this one did \$eem rather wild and made no deep impression on moth. er or daughter. 1Irs. Winthrop ended the evening's consultation by saying, "It is too late to talk any longer, we must all go to bed; this sitting up late in harvest time will never answer." "Good night, Ernest," said Grace, and leaning over to him she whispered, "are you sorry I'm going with you ?" "Going with me ! Judging from your success - to-night, I think I see us both going." "Don't give up so. I believe we shall go. I wish mother would not call us children. I know, she only means me when she says it. She thinks I7 page: 18-19[View Page 18-19] you and Annie are grown up. I'm going to con- vince her that I can be grave and more like 'Annie. You are nqt vexed with me for telling, are you ?" "No; I dbn't think it will make much difference in the end ; but I thought you told me good night. As mother says, 'it's time to go to bed.' " "Good night, then." And as Ernest heard her light Footsteps on the stairs,. he could not help thinking she was a sister of who any brother might be proud. "She is provoking sometimes but she does carry her points even with our goo mother; 'and I should no' wonder if in the end I found myself with her on the way-to Uncle Edward's." Two hours later the tall old clock, which had al- ready measured off the years of'one generation, strikes twelVe. The moon shines quietly through the many-le tved elm, and throws shadows all over the ancient roof. Quiet and refreshing sleep has fallen over every inmate of) the ousehold ; it touches us, too, dear reader, and we must wait for another ch 4pter to tell all we kno of the Win throp family, into whose home we h ve come with so little ceremony. d 18 FIFTY, YEARS AGO. CHAPTER II INTRODUCTION TO' THE FAMILY. IXTE must first seek an introduction to the head of the household, good Deacon Winthrop. The evening our story' commenced he was too tired to find any rest i the old orch ; but to- day he is taking his" nooning" in the oaken chair, and while he dozes we can tell you that he is the youngest of a family of six brot ers, all born in this same old mansion. By the ommon routine of human events, he has come t6 be his father's successor at the homestead. The other brothers, except one who died in early life, have wandered away. and found homes and employment in new places-all enterprising men. By careful industry Henry, now Deacon inthrop, has added his brothers' portions to hi own until nearly all the paternal acres are in h s possession. He is not a man of many words, b t he is known to possess a clear, consistent Crsincharacter.. The Bible "is to him tl e foundation of all knowl- edge. No season is sq hurried that he does riot find time to open its pates and gather at least one precious morsel to swee en his daily toil. Elevated ('9) *1 page: 20-21[View Page 20-21] FIFTY YEARS AGO. 21 y its purity, strengthened by its wi entle and forbearing by its lessons o wonder is it that good Deacon Winthr n'the church and town. Simply to me unassuming man, you would not und is words are so often quoted, why arries such eight; but we, who kno trength lies, cannot wonder at its ma round these same old door-stones h moving, trusting boy. At the old fire-si d to stories cf his father's childhood, p his very roof.i Here he had heard fro r's lips the story' of Joseph and his )avid and Goliath, of Solomon's wisdo on's strength. She told him of the srael and the r strange wanderings fro anaan. She told him how disobedie ame into this beautiful world, and she hat "the blood of Jesus Christ" cou. rdm its dreadful bondage.. Here God' other's teachings ; and when the fathe o his rest, the son rose up to fill his pla ing the morning and evening sacrifice nd praise at he family altar, and in t is children in "the nurture and adm bie Lord."' Mrs. Winthrop was born and. educa 1ese same New England hills. She w f excellent common sense, quiet and er manners;nd in every respect a." r her husband, whbse judgment she nd whose views imperceptibly infli hole life. SIe was a mother who nev sdom, made f love, what )p is a power et this quiets erstand why his opinion w where his nifestations. e played-a de he listen- assed under n his °moth- )rethren, of n and Sam.. children of m Egypt to nce and sin taught him d free him )lessed that r was called ce ; contin.. e of prayer urn rearing lonition of ted among as a woman dignified in help-meet" respected, fenced her, er wearied in caring for her children; they were "the joy of her heart," and "the light of her dwelling." Still she was so oppressed with care and the many de- mands on her time, that she did not often unbend in playfulness, except with mirth-provoking Grace! Annie, the eldest child, was now twenty. She possessed all her mother's housewifely attributes. She was a perfect home treasure, caring for her brothers and sisters with almost maternal tender- ness. ." And yet,."\ she would sometimes say to Ernest, "I don't know how it is, father and mother seem to have great confidence in me, but Grace can accomplish more with them than I can." Ernest was a fine specimen of a New England youth fifty years ago-a son in; whom his parents found rest. During the summer months he worked on .the farm, and in the winter he attended school. His face was noble and ianly, and his form finely' developed; his words were much more abundant than his father's. A stranger would have thought him more accessible. As we have learned from his conversation with Grace, he was not fully content in his present mode of life, and was far from being a fixture in it. He' had made up his mind to teach school the coming winter, and before that time to get a sight of the world beyond Eagle Mountain. Grace! I hardly know how to present her, s e was so like and so unlike the rest ofthe hoseholi. Her face was very fair, and her violet eyed pal d and darkened with her different emotions. She was full of vivacity, kindling and sparkling in the life about her; ever respectful to her father and- mother, but encountering. their opinions with 'a FIFTY YEARS AGO. page: 22-23[View Page 22-23] 22 FIFTY YEARS AGO. playfulness which Annie never atter seemed to have no liking for the dai farm life, and sometimes called forth I disapprobatic n at her s-eemingly was- then she was so full of expedients-so emergency-:oming in at just the 'r stay the weary hands of her mother Her presence was felt throughout t little tasteful decorations. Seldom a when flowers grew, but they bloome bunches on she high mantle-shelf in room, or on the cherry table between t The big double roses, the pinks and iams grew inr great profusion under , Liand. And she knew all the wild flo rdinary ;walking or climbing distance. :he wee old-:'ashioned mirrors shine, eticles of choicer furniture .were pof itmost capacity by her willing fingers, her mother's nd grandmother's caps, 1er own and nn e's Sunday bonnets. ;he touched s em.d to show its, brig ht The four younger children, Cha Arthur and! Diary, loved Annie very was only one step removed from th )ut Grace charmed them. She went or berries, and told them stories, and down hill with them winter evenings, hem out of many a difficulty. The same feeling which encircled h net her among her young friends. S ome everywhere. With her brother was particularly intimate ; their char FIFTY YEARS AGO. mpted. She ly routine of ier mother's :ed time, but ready for an eight time to and sister! he house in day passed d in fragrant the sitting- he windows. sweet Wil- her fostering wers within She made and the few hed to their She made nd trimmed Everything est side. les, Henry, much. She eir mother; with them went sliding and helped er at home, he was wel- Ernest she acters hard 23 monized finely and balanced well. His advice often modified her schemes, and her disregard for petty annoyances helped him cheerfully over many difficulties. Life at Deacon Winthrop's involved great economy .and care. The sheep contributed their share of food and raiment, the cows yielded stores of milk, butter and cheese. It was, as Grace had said, a busy. household; but it was the abode of cheerfulness and refine- ment-a refinement which being inborn, a native element of the, soul, developed itself as clearly as if its revelation were made through the medium of more costly surroundings. Now the ever watchful old clock strikes the early morning hour, and all through the east rosy tintings outskirt the dawning of another glorious summer day, and rouse the different members of 'the refreshed household to their allotted tasks. Grace's first thought was of that wonderful journey in October, and how it was. to be accomplished. "I'll begin on the flax," thought she. " Mother expects to tell me about it, and wonder why I do not keep at it just as Annie would. She will be surprised if I get it done before bleaching -time next spring. Now, I will try and. let her see how well I can do a thing if I really set about it. ±.I'll make my fingers fly and the wheel,'too."' Annie, who was an early riser, had.not yet gone down; so Grace b unded out, of bed, and, quickly dressing herself, w nt up to the garret to recon- noitre. Close by the chimneystood the wheel, with its empty distaff; there lay the bundle of flax, and f1 c page: 24-25[View Page 24-25] 24 FIFTY YEARS AGO. here stood the magician who wasp smooth threads out of its fibres. the dewy morning outside; tempted but no, she would not. Her first t bring the wheel close to the little and there accomplish her task ; bu in the early morning, felt confine She wanted deep, full breaths. She up here. Next she thought of t Aunt Nannie's "out-room," where new-mown hay came in so refreshin she would be as welcome as the bird 'there to pick up a nice breakfast of sill. But what would mother thi coming from Aunt Nannie's every would have. to tell her why she would spoil the secret pleasure she have in doing her work. She thought of another plan-bey where the boys slept, was a sma There was a pleasant window in i the very branches of an old. apple ways -had a special fancy for the window, and here she would bring spin, at least, an hour .every morni body needed her down-stairs, and p ing the day. She could get an h Her resolution thus taken was so The wheel stood in its place, clo window, nicely dusted and ready t bundle of flax was stored away on the corner of the room. She ha pleted her arrangements, when she FIFTY YEARS AGO. 25 to bring nice A thought of her to waver; bought was to garret window : the air, even d and stifling. could not stay, he window in the smell of gly, and where s who stopped crumbs on the nk to see her morning. She vent, and that was going to ion the room 11 tore-room. t o ening into -tree. She al- vie from this her wheel and ng before any- ometimes dur- our unnoticed. )n carried out.' ;e by the open work, and the in old chest in d nearly coi-. heard the call to breakfast. She' had fully intended to be ready for her share of the \morning work down-stairs, but the time had gone faster than she thought, and here she was late at breakfast. " Idid not' knew but you had gone to Boston," said Ernest, in a quiet undertone, as she took her seat beside him at the table. An appreciating smile was all the return she had time to make when her mother said: "I doubt if it is a good plan for you to sit up so late at night planning to go off visiting. I wondered why you did not come to set the table and help about break- fast." "She got up before I did," said Annie. "I'm sure I don't knox;i what she could have been do- ing." Grace wanted to excuse herself very much, but that would be spoiling it all; so she said, with her usual vivacity, " I'll make it all up to-day, mother; and to - morrow morning I'll get breakfast before the cock crows if you want me to." "Take care," said Deacon Winthrop, smilingly. "Mother believes in more moderation than that. An early breakfast now and then would never suit her. She likes things in an even way." " That is Annie" thought Grace. "I wonder, if I shall ever get 4n the 'even way.'" Breakfast and prayers were over, and the busy household went to their daily tasks. Only Arthur and .Mary went to school durin' these harvest days; the others were large enough to be very serviceable to their father and b other. Arthur and Mary had their tasks, too, for they fed the 2 '. , r", , ' page: 26-27[View Page 26-27] .1 I S S x j FI fTY YEARS AGO. chickens and the ducks, the turkeys and the gos- lings ; they gathered the eggs, and saved many a step for the weary 'feet of their mother. Grace superintended their simple toilette, filled their lunch-basket for school, and then went hither and thither doing nameless necessary things. Mrs. Winthrop proceeded with her cheese -making, which was, indeed, a wonderful process. She, managed it so nicely that it did not really seem a great deal of trouble. She had a way of doing things quietly, and as the snow- white curd was separated from the watery portions .of the. milk, she packed it into a strong cloth, inclosed it in a hoop to give it shape, and put it under a heavy weight to press, and was glad so.much of the day's work was done. Annie, meantime, was busy preparing the sub- stantial ginger -bread for the field lunch. In har- vest days extra food was necessary. Cake and cheese, and a most excellent root-beer, which Mrs. Winthrop knew just how to ,compound, formed a substantial repast between the early breakfast and the dinner. Charles came for the basket, which was always in readiness to be sent into the field by half-past ten, and then came the preparations for dinner, followed by that peculiar stillness which foretells the coming noon in the country. "1What is Grace doing up-stairs ?" said Mrs. Winthrop. "I want her to go over to Aunt Nannie's for some sassafras root for the beer. I see the last I made is almost one."- The' oors were all open, nd Grace, who had gone up to put the flax on the distaff, heard the 27 inquiry, and ran; had time to call he "Here I am, mo Aunt Nannie's." she was soon over back again with th1 While she goes ger at the little br derstand who its; other side of the ro garden. Its inmat liarly known as "I Their father and m If "the even tenor turbed, the world n ing was placid, 'a their case was,"b and growing old, w to mark the journey them would have s was long past, and ways. When husband's houseib and had exercised since. If the chil knew just what to every kind, neatly t on the low beams of throp wanted to go her married life, over and "look after dren were kept out came the rolls of stro ,F ,I - FIFTY YEARS AGO. 26 t . r z a . _a 'i ' 'i -+ t r I' quickly down before anybody r. there " said she, "ready to go to And putting on he sun-bonnet, at the little brown house, and sassafras root. back to her duties, we may in-. wn house long enough to un- inmates are. It stands on the ad, opposite Deacon Winthrop's es are two maiden sisters, fami- Sunt Nannie" and "Aunt Lois." ether had been dead many years. of their way" had ever been dis- ever knew it, The outer seem. id the judgment rendered in )rn, lived a good many years, ithout any thing very eventful ." Perhaps the story told by ounded very differently, but it they were happy in their quiet Winthrop, came a bride to her gave her a cordial-welcome, a motherly care over her ever ren were sick, Aunt Nannie give them. She had herbs of ed up in bunches and hanging her little attic.i If Mrs. Win- visiting in the earlier years of unt Lois' could always come 'things," and see that the chil- of mischief. Ffom- their loom ing brown linen which supplied page: 28-29[View Page 28-29] ;: f S i f \ f f 1 t e t i the Winthrop household. They knew how to bleach it too. Aunt Nannie kept a-good look-out for "bleaching time." She knew just when the sun would do such work most effectually. The busy hum of their wheel might be heard. many hours of the winter's day, as they drew out and twisted into threads the wool and the flax. Then, in summer, how Aunt Lois worked in the garden ! Charles and Henry made it, but she kept it in or- der. She had "alley beds," where the pinks and sweet Williams, the poppies and red and white hollyhocks grew in profusion. There were daffo- dills and ladies'- slippers, and such a wealth of roses ! Aunt Lois loved flowers as she did the sun- shine, and they always seemed to grow wherever she put them. AuntLois and flowers were always associated in Grace's mind, and from her she had learned many things about them. From her earliest childhood she never went in summer time, even on a hasty errand, that Aunt Lois did not find time to give her a "posy just to smell of," and then to go with her after wild flowers! It was astonishing what treasures she found hidden under dry leaves in early spring, so delicate that the wind would almost blow them away. Grace always accompanied her on these occasions. They were perpetual sources of pleasure to .her. Sometimes, in autumn days, she would come home wreathed in clematis, and wearing necklace and bracelets of spice-woo'dber- ries. Aunt Lois never thought these devices were Tfolish; she had an eye for the beautiful, and some- times she would tell Nannie that '"it beat all how that child would- rig- up in flowers, and look as handsome as a picture." 28 [FTY YEARS AG. 29 FIFTY YEARS AGO. FI ."T here com e I Mrs. Winthrop w got green things Occasionally A go visiting. The beforehand that ti two o'clock, and that they kept were younger-a at this hour had it had come to b the "setting away to " run over a nmi right, and looked Nannie went out her and got out side of it. They E summer, they us c t iting occasions. affection, and in very patterns she .z enough to go visit Aunt Nannie ar their garden yiel their more substi WXinthrop's farm, able services. Ir them to be unde2 ~ boys to regard th longed to them little brown hou home circle; doing outspreading wan unt Lois and Grace," sometimes ould say. " Look, Annie, they've enough to fill the door-yard." unt Nannie and Aunt Lois would y always gave n tice a day or two ey expected to " set away" about e home by "milking time"-not cow ; they us d to when they nd the importance of being home fixed itself in their minds that e a definite point of time. Then !" They alwa s wanted Grace aute," to see if t eir caps were on lean enough to go visiting: then and Lois buttoned the door after at the little window close by the ach had immen e fans, which, in for parasols, o4 church and vis- Grace watched them off with real rlier days thou ht their fans the should buy when-she was old ing on her own account. d'Aunt Lois kept chickens, and led them nice vegetables, but atial living came; from Deacon n exchange for their really val- deed, as they grew older, he felt [is special care, and taught his r wants as something which be. ) meet. So the inmates of the were only an extension of the g their share in helping on its :s. Having learned so much .1 29 I Y . . page: 30-31[View Page 30-31] :Y t , , k r /+ { !tf i e N Jr about them, we will go back to the great old kit- chen where the family are already gathered at din.. ner. Just look at the;vegetables !-the peas, potatoes and cucumbers wouldsoll away in amazement at their withered, sun-dried descendants exposed for sale in some of our modern markets. And such bread and butter, puddings and pies! Beyond all, there was a vigor of body and mind which gave to food its true position. Then came the hour of rest, on the old porch, or under the big elm-tree ; after which Deacon Win- throp again gathered his forces and he work went on. Mrs. Winthrop and the girls usually had more leisure in the afternoon. From he time the dinner-dishes were washed until fivb o'clock, was a comparative calm. In this time Grace expected' to, spin, without being observed. This, added to' the morning hour, would, if she could only bear the confinement,. accomplish her task. She re. solved not to speak of the visit to Boston to her mother again until that was done, an~i then mother must consent, and use her influence With father! IT IS UT from J ka now into one of those hol mid-summer. D forks and plate doors were open through the kitc into the porch. is "spare-room." sanctuary, was a consequently its striped:'carpet of industry of Mrs Aunt Lois (who indeed she had succession of di what they were). to carry it throu stood between t old Family Bib births and deat their exstence Over the table ( CHAPTER III. REALLY ACCOMPLISHED. u y, and its harvest-time, come we early September. It had been days which properly belong to nner, with its rattle of knives, s, was over.. The windows and , and the' light breeze wandered hen into the sitting-room and out Beyond the sitting-room came the This, being a sort of household step removed from every-day life'; door was closed. Here, a neat red and green bore witness to the Winthrop and Annie,' aided by prided herself on its brightness; ompounded the colors, and, by a pping and redipping, made them A cherry table, with legs enough gh all the vicissitudes of table life, e windows; its only ornament the le, in which were recorded the s of the Winthrops as far back as as known. e hung an old-fashioned mirror,. FIFTY YEARS AGO. 30 page: 32-33[View Page 32-33] I t I i ii h 32 FIFTY YEARS AGO. with quaint carved frame and highly-polished sur-. face. Another smaller table held Scott's Family Bible, with notes. A few high-backec chairs were ranged round the room, and before t e front win- dow was an armed-chair. The chief rnament was the open fireplace, in which stood a ja always filled in summer-time with sprays of feathery asparagus, enlivened by the different flowers, in their season. It was Grace's especial delight to make this fire- place very blooming every Saturday afternoon, for after the early Sunday supper the w ndows were' opened, and all the family gathered ere to read from the sacred pages of that holy bo k which was so surely preparing them for life's conflicts, and giving them power to triumph over t em. The hymn and prayer that follow d were like invisible cords drawing these young hearts up to their covenant God. The ""spare-roo "witnessed the family meetings on Thanksgiving-days, and was used when invited friends came t partake of 'their hospitalities. The children remeibered-when one of their number, a dear little sister, had lain with closed eyes and folded hands under the mir- ror between the windows, and bee borne from thence to rest under the green sod by the valley church! We will not enter this quiet, darkened room to-day, but come into the porch where Mrs. Winthrop is sitting. Her simple afternoon toilette is made, and her mending-basket is beside her. Annie is here, too, with busy fingers remodeling a garment for 'one of the boys. 'Grac 's chair and' work-basket are here, but not the young lady her- self. FIFTY YEARS ,AGO. 33 "Grace must help rpe mend, this afternoon," said Mrs. Winthrop.. "What do you suppose she is.'do ing, Annie ?" "Coming to help you, mother," said Grace; en! tearing that moment and holding out her finished task for her mother's inspection. " Really.!" said Mrs. Winthrop,-as she passed her fingers over the smooth brown threads, "this is very neatly done, and I am pleased with your per- severance. I knew you were able to accomplish. any thing that could be done in a hurry, but I did not believe you would get up an hour earlier thar usual for six weeks, and actually finish the flax." "Annie, you are too bad ! Did you tell mother about my getti g up?" "No; Annie has never said a word to me about it; but do you oppose I have no thought for what is going on up- tairs? I know when my children try to do well." Mrs. Winthrop laic the skeins on the bench beJ side her, and Grace kegan looking over the basket for such article as needed her fingers most. There 'was -a quiet snile on Annie's face, for she knew that Grace had pome to the point where the never- forgotten subject of the journey was to be agitated. They sat q quietly sewing, when Grace said, ''Mother, have you ever talked with father about our going to Uncle Edward's in October ?" " Hav'n't you forgotten that wild notion ?" And. Mrs. Winthrop glanced at her daughter, whose face had assumed that look of kindling earnestness. which it. always wore when.her heart was enlisted. £' Qh, no indeed,. mother.! Ernest and:' : haue page: 34-35[View Page 34-35] FIFTY YEARS AGO. 34 had long talks about it, but we resolved to keep it all to ourselves until I finished this work; we have planned and planned until we, know the way ; just where we are going to stop at night; what we are going to do when we get there; an all about uncle and aunt and Cousin Laura." And Grace fairly caught her breath in her eagerness to show how every difficulty was removed. " I anx afraid you have forgotten th money to pay the way,(and the clothes to wear when you get there ; btt how did you make so sure of the way ?" "Ernest has inquired of Edward Nelson's uncle ; he has been there two or three times. If we only had a carriage, we should be almost re dy to start. Ernest says 'Fearnaught' is handsom enough to drive anywhere; but the wagon w uld not be comfortable for such a journey, besi es it might not look very nicely driving up to Un le Edward's door." Grace paused, feeling that she had g ined an im- portant point; her mother actually 1 stened ; and she had at least an opportunity tq d sclose plans which she and Ernest had come to thi k very com- plete. She knew where it was possi le to obtain the very carriage they wanted. A riend of her mother's, a widow lady, owned a neat wo-wheeled gig-a great rarity in those days, a there were only three in the whole town. She t ought if her father should ask for this for a couple of weeks, it was possible he might get it. Ernest as not quite so sanguine ; he called it a good sug estion-just the thing. Grace had drawn such lowing pic- tures of their ride, and the delightful, wonderful visit they were going to have, that he had come to regard her as quite a necessary part of it. "I should like to hear of the road you would take and where you stop over-night," said Mrs. Winthrop, quietly. Now was Grace's opportunity. Down went her work, and her violet eyes grew intense in their ex- pression. Ernest says we must be about three days and a half going. We can have an early dinner and go as far as Dover the first. day. I know Cousin George and his wife will be glad to see us, for when they used, to come here and we were only little children, they asked us to make them a visit whenever you would let us come. I remem- ber Cousin Sarah was very'pleasant; don't you, Annie?" "Yes," said. Aiinie. "I went there -once with father and mother when I was quite srdall. But what would you do after you had stayed there one night ? "A bout fifty miles from Dover," continued Grac , with the air of one who had learned her les- son p rfectly, "father's Uncle Josiah lives." Here Mrs. Winthrop smiled, and Annie remark- ed, "Relations are very convenient when they live on the way. Uncle Josiah would not know you, and perhaps after your long ride, he would not take you in. "'Yes he would; we could soon convince him that we came from-the old homestead. Wasn't he .born here, mother?" , FIFTY YEARS; AGO. rn page: 36-37[View Page 36-37] 36 FIFTY YEARS AGO. "Yes; but it is many years since here. Still I should not have any fears ing you away without, a welcome, if y to his house."7 "1We can stay there all night and g the next day. Edward Nelson's uncle is a very nice public-house at Hanco he-called it. Ernest knows, for he pu- paper. There we can stay another ni fore dark the next day he thinks he Boston. If we cannot, we shall be s that we can go in quite early Frid Ernest wants daylight to find his way "What then ?" said Annie. "You rr fond of introducing yourself than I a pect mg h pleasure on such a visit." "Why ! isn't Uncle Edward father's as much as you are my sister? I d( will call us strangers." "You seem very sure you are goin Winthrop. " Have you asked your it?" " I want you to talk with him first, make him see how reasonable it is. I should 'lose Annie twenty years, I sl lighted if somebody would look her Please say you will, mother, and the shall go. We will be as grave and you and father could be. I'll keep all I come back. I'll behave just like Annie." If the whole matter had been reveal she would have known that her father FIFTY YEARS AGO. 37 he has been of his send- ou once got o fifty miles e says there k; I believe it down on ght, and be- can get to near there ay morning. n a city." ust be more n, if you ex-, brother, just )n't think he g," said Mrs. ather about mother, and am sure if I ould be de- up for me. n I know we as proper as. my fun until dear, good ed to Grace, and mother l had discussed it pretty freely. Mrs. Winthrop had heard the low mnurmurs of the wheel every morn- ing. She had noticed the many confidential inter- views between er son and daughter as they sat oi the porch in th twilight ; and understanding them so well, she expected to hear more about their in- tended visit. To her astonishment, Deacon Win- throp had listened with a good deal of interest to S her statement of Grace's sudden announcement. He did not see how the journey could be perform- ed, but recollections of his boyhood clustered -thickly about him. He thought of himself and Ed- ward as boys on this same farm, doing the many errands that came into their daily life, enjoying many pleasures and sharing many privations. Then the long years of their separation, unintentional on either side, might be bridged by consenting to this visit ; perhaps he should behold his brother's face once more at the old homestead. The more he thought of it the more he inclined not.only to give his consent, but to aid their going. Mrs. Winthrop raised-many objections.. She had never been much of a travele , and she did not see how "these children" could go so far from home alone. Her husand's judgment was a very safe starting point, a id from it she gradually came to think that if Grace could make he way reasonably plain, she would not oppose their going. This is why fshe listened with so much real interest to the plan of the proposed journey. She had-talked it over with Annie, who thought it a great under- taking, but if they were disposed to go, and father did not object, it was best to help them off. -To I', page: 38-39[View Page 38-39] FIFTY YEARS AGO. Grace's delight, her mother made no great objec- tions. She only said, " I can't promise, but you may ask your father, and if he thinks that Ernest can take good care of you and find the way there, perhaps I shall give my consent ;-tak care ! t ke care.! there goes the mending basket. Sure enough, it had gone over, and all its con- tents weresan the floor. Grace could not sit still and hear so much of an assent from her mother, and the basket did not know enough to hold fast to the bench on which it stood, when in her joyful uprising she bounded against it. So down it came, and our young lady had to restore order, but she, made such slow progress that Mrs. inthrop sent her to get supper, which her father wanted earlier than usual. It came about soon after supper eacon Win- throp.had gone out into the porch o rest in the oaken chair. Grace had waited for his opportu- nity ; so she sat down on the bench beside him and told him how much she and Ernest anted to go to Boston, and how they had planned to go, if he would only give his consent. 1e heard her through, and then came the usual question, "What does your mother say ?" "She told me to ask you." "Well, if she is willing and you w11 promise to do me credit with Uncle Edward, I wil1 let you go." Deacon Winthrop smiled at the bright face which for a moment was turned in its unspeakable pleas- ure towards him. He fully believed he would do him credit anywhere, and then he heard the clear ringing voice saying,- 38 FIFTY YEARS AGO. 39 "Mother! mother ! father says we may to. Where is Annie ?" " What ails Grace ?".said Arthur. "She nearly i pushed me into this pail of milk ;" but Grace had gone, and her light step might have been heard around the corner of the barn, where Ernest was unharnessing the horse. "Ernest ! Ernest !" said' she,. "we are going to Boston !-father and mother both say so "Really, Grace !-does mother say so ?". "-I had a 'talk with her this afternoon and she told me to ask father. I asked him just now and he gave his consent, and we are really going," said she, dancing along and clasping his neck in the outgoings of her joy. "Wait until I put Fearnaught into pasture, and then come and sit in the wagon and tell mne how you brought it all about." The wagon was rolled under its customary cover, and then, away from all the family, Grace related to her equally interested brother, the story of her triumph. "Now, I am sure, you are glad I invited myself to go v ith you," said she, as they walked slowly into th house. "Of course I am," said Ernest, " but who would have thought father and mother would consent! Your are 'a clever sort of girl, and I don't know but your' way of going right at a thing will accom plish the most in the end." After a due amount of talking, it was settled that our young friends should leave home the first day of October. Mrs. Winthrop had many misgivings, but her husband was so cheerful about it~ that she , page: 40-41[View Page 40-41] 40 FIFTY YEARS AGO. -C1 II K tried hard to overcome them, and belie thing would come out right. Grace had a great many things t and tact were put to their utmost e straw bonnet had been plaited by fingers, and shaped after one made a She looked at it carefully, and con be remodeled. The little market below, boasted of a milliner's shop. distance on horseback was no task She could manage her horse with p often went over the hills with Erne fully equal to his own. To-day "Caosar," Fearnaught's rapidly over the ground. She sel tiest ribbon she could find at .the vil carried it, with her bonnet, to the ing directions to have it made as pr She made a few very plain purc rode home again, rich in the sense o ing joy. Annie had, inherited fro sister a handsome black silk dress, was a choice article in her simple with her accustomed thoughtfulness to her sister to put in her trunk, a she needed it." Mrs. Winthrop had she only wore on great occasions., fashioned, but being of good materij it very presentable, and laid it along to help on the outfit. Her own bes plain material, but it was neat, fitte gave her little anxiety. Indeed, he face, -so sparkling; and full of intelli 41 FIFTY YEARS AGO. eve that every- o do, her taste tremity. Her her own deft the milliner's. luded it must own, six miles To ride this to our Grace. rfect ease, and t with a speed mate, took her cted the pret-. lage store, and milliner's, leav- tty as possible. ases and then F a great, com- her mother's this, of course, wardrobe, but, , she offered it nd " wear it if a shawl which It was old- d, she thought with the dress t dress was of her well, and r sweet, young gence, her= na- K1 tive ease and self-possession would distinguish her anywhere, even if her dress was plain. She had such a natural love for the beautiful, that she could iot help adapting herself to it whenever she found it. She had been trained in a household where the texture and shape of the outer garment did not comprise the highest aspirations of the soul. So she had a joy independent of them. Leave we now the preparations, nd hasten on with the days until they usher in the first day of October. It is plain the glorious morning heralds some. un- u sual event at the Winthrop mansion. Aunt Nan- ,nie and Aunt Lois are there washing up' the break- fast dishes, both looking rather downcast, and oc- c sionally strengthening each other by wondering h w I1Vis' Winthrop " could give her consent to s ch children going off, nobody knew where. rs. Winthrop is busy with various things at the kitchen-table. Annie is packing a small trunk up- stairs, and Grace is dressing in her very "Sunday best." The childre are everywhere, full of ex- ci ement, they run up and down stairs, from the k tchen to.Grace's rom, hindering every body. With a sudden shout, Henry and Arthur go leap- i g down stairs, and out the door. Ernest has just d iven up with Mrs. Wheeler's shining gig, and h ndsome Fearnaught harnessed before it. How the daring request for the use of that gig was ever g anted, nobody seemed to know. Ernest under- t ok the negotiation, and its presence on this event. f 1 morning, was ;sufficient proof 'of his "success. F arnaught sniffed the air, and then looked behind page: 42-43[View Page 42-43] 42 FIFTY YEARS AGO to see if he could make out what v he turned his ears backwards, and them forward. He was so used to t family, that he seemed to know tL more than usual was going to happ dren patted his velvet nose, hugge neck, and looked into his great, tru whether this meant they were goin going, he could not make out. H ticed the shining gig, to him it was t big family wagon. On the table in the kitchen stood as going on, then brought .e ways of the at something en. The chil- d his shining ting eyes, but or he was had not no- e same as the two baskets, which Mrs. Winthrop's motherly hands had packed. She called Grace to come and look into them. "Ii' this basket are two chickens, icely roasted, with plenty of bread and butter filled in ; and in that one, you will find cake and cheese. Aunt Lois brought over a pan of crullers. I have put in as many as I could." "Thank you, mother! I knew you would never send us away empty. Ernest will like this, I am sure." "Yes, indeed," said Ernest, coming in .at that moment," mother knows how to help travelers off." It was soon time for the early din er, and all of the family sat down to share it. Aunt Nannie and Aunt Lois stayed too, for sad as it was, they would not miss seeing "the children" off. Deacon Winthrop's petition for blessing on the food, was lengthened into a dedication of his sor and daughter to any service in which their Heavenly Fath r might accept them, and that in all their goin s they night be kept from temptation ind sin. t I i FIFTY YEARS AGO. 43 It required all of Grace's fortitude to keep 'back her tears, home seemed so inexpressibly dear, to her just then, but the cheerful voices of the chil- dren, and their wondering speculations as to what ihe would see, helped her to be glad that she was ;oing. Nobody seemed very hungry, so there was not a long sitting over the early meal. f/ And now came a bustle equal to the occa ion. Ihe baskets were carried out, and stowed away in :he box of the carriage. The trunk was strapped n behind, each boy giving the strap a pull to assure himself he had been useful in helping them )ff. Bundles were bestowed in corners, and lastly, clean bag, fill with oats, was laid on the bottom )f the gig, and covered with a blanket. "Yoi can use the bag for a footstool until the )ats are gone," said Deacon Winthrop, "and then f it rains, or is chilly, you will have the blanket to Iraw over you." Now came the adieus, and Grace and Ernest vere seated in the gig all ready to go. Deacon inthop must take one more survey of the horse ind harness, and repeated his admonition to "drive low, not to ride at evening, and be careful where hey stopped over-night." Mrs. Winthrop once more impressed on Grace he importance of thoughtfulness in everything, nd to be surely not to go out alone in Boston. \unt Nannie added, "Don't get a cold, but if you hould, be sure and ask your aunt to make you ome s bong herb tea, and drink it hot when you o to bid." Ernes touched Fearnaught with the whip and t I, I page: 44-45[View Page 44-45] 44 FIFTY YEARS AGO. away they drove, followed by every lessing which such a household could bestow. The first ten miles were familiar, then came new hills, and new towns beyond them. "Can you believe, Ernest," said Grace,' as she rode along in quiet satisfaction; "that father and mother have really consented to let u go. I almost think we ran away." "They all saw us start, if we did" said Ernest. "So if they send out to find us, they will know which way to come. Grandfather and grandmoth- er looked very sober whgen I ran in there this morn- ing on my way from Mrs. Wheeler's And Uncle Henry said he did n't see how mother ever gave her consent to our going off like this." "When. I went to tell them good -bye," said Grace, "grandmother said she hoped nothing would happen to us, but it was a great ways for' such children to go alone. I told he I was nearly seventeen,. and you are almost nineteen, and I asked her if, she did not think we could ehave pretty well when we tried. She smiled a ittle, and said we were good children, but she wi hed we were coming home instead of going away, though she knew the Lord would take care of u wherever we were. Aunt Nannie and Aunt Lois have looked as solemn ever since I told them, as if we were going to England, and.never coming.back., I don't think they have quite forgiven mother for letting us go. I thought we should have the most trouble with father and mother and they have be en as good as they could be.''' " I rather think if father had not been in favor of J ' 1 I C 0 e in e se f t ti d t. w -ti a cc gi FIFTY YEARS. AGO. 45 t, we s ould not have been riding here to-day," aid Er est. "I really think he wanted us to go, nd aft r awhile mother thinks as he does. No- 'ody b t father could have got her consent to let 'ou go. I thought that night when you first told er, that you had spoiled everything.' " Wel , you see, I did n't, and it was n t too soon to All her, she wants to. think of a new thing a good rhile b fore she makes up her mind, and the first f October was coming so fast." Ernest laughed at Grace's sudden appreciation f time, and so they chatted on, sometimes driv- quite fast, and then allowing Fearnaught to alk up the long hills. The face o, the country as so like that to which they had been accustom- 1,. that they felt quite at home. An occasional quiry, aided Ernest's powers of observation, and ia led them to reach Dover a little before sun- t., 1Vr. and Mrs. Wilbur had not seen our young ends since they were children, and were obliged be told their names before they could recognise em. hen their welcome was most cordial. " Pea 'children !" said motherly Mrs. Wilbur, s glad' to see you. I always set a great eall by your father and mother, and I never ought, in our young days, that so many years puld g by and we. never see each other at all," " [his 'irl looks just as her mother did the first ne I e er see her," said Mr. Wilbur, as he took good 1'ok at Grace, and gave her hand a most rdial grasp. " I was visiting down to your ard fathers, and coming out of meeting the f page: 46-47[View Page 46-47] 46 FIFTY YEARS AGO. first Sunday I was there, Henry nudged my elbow and told me to look at that girl! I should think that was the very one." " People say I look like father's mother," said Grace, not knowing what else to say. "Is your name Annie ?" "No, sir ; my sister has mother's name. I am named Grace, after father's mother." "A good name, and a worthy person who had it. But come, mother," said he, addressing Mrs. Wilbur, "you see that they have a good supper while I look after the horse." By the time the ;horse was well disposed of, the supper-table was spread with its tempting old- fashioned cheer, not forgetting a delicious pump- kin-pie which Mrs. Wilbur had baked that very afternoon, the first of the season. Their early din- ner and long ride made our travelers hungry guests, but they were obliged to declare them- selves more than satisfied long before the variety gave out. Then they were takes into the "spare room," where Mr. Wilbur had kindled a little fire, "just to take off the chill," he said. Grace wondered where he found "the chill," for the day had been warm, and her unusual ex- citement made it seem like midsummer; but the blaze was cheerful, and she was disposed to enjoy everything. "I must begin to ask you questions t9-night," said -Mr. Wilbur,." or I shall not get through in the whole of your visit." "We shall have. to talk fast," said Ernest; 'for we mustbe on our way again to -morrow morning." ca gc th yd lo lir an .fin as in in to ar S tu we ag fol ise m m tal Y pa sta bai a To-n nnot a erLnig "No, i from bught u !up h grnest 'g the: it d th ell, e erg I our wV 11 a Steo the m' stop a nly om e must n nto eks, ,w igh cs mus , if the god feel y over U youn t ; it's d ho k o t FIFTY YEARS AGO. 47 orrow morning !" said Mrs. Wilbur, "We low that. I don't think ve will keep you ht, if you do not pay us better than that !" deed !" said Mr. Wilbur. "You cannot here to -morrow morning. Besides, I ou came to -make us a visit. 'What sent re to stay only one night ?" told them where they were going, how. yhad been contemplating it, and how eir time was. well," said Mr. Wilbur, "you are quite tic couple ; if you are going so far to Uncle Edward. I remember him almost I do your father. I am glad you are go.. k him up.. We shall have to let them off morning, mother ! but you must promise few days on your return." for. our gig," said Grace, laughing. "We thing, like Cinderella with her coach. get home at twelve or her coach would a pumpkin. If we are not at home in two shall never ride in Mrs. Wheeler's gig child !" said Mi. Wilbur. "Young be particular how they keep their prom- ;y mean to be trusted. Well, it's done to see you even for one night. It makes sung, and mother and I shall have it to' .for a great while after you are gone. ig folks don't know anything about the all future with you. You cannot under- you and your brother's visit takes us e times when we were young." i page: 48-49[View Page 48-49] 48 FIFTY YEARS AGO. So the evening passed in pleasant converse, until. it was time to say good-night The morning dawned fair and beautiful. Ernest was up early to look after Fearnaught, but Mr. Wilbur was before him, and Fearnaught had only time to stop a moment over his ample measure of oats to whinney his good-morning tQ his master. A bountiful breakfast was waiting for them, and Mrs. Wilbur had put them up such a lunch that it was. hard to refuse ; but, as Grace told 'her, "Mother had filled every spare corner." "You shall, at least, take this pumpkin-pie," said she. . Grace saw Ernest give it a wistful look, so she determined to find room for it somewhere, which she. accordingly did, quite to Mrs. Wilbur's satis- faction ; and again, to use Aunt Nannie's peculiar phrase, they "set away" on their all day ride, carrying many cordial wishes for a successful jour- ney, and giving, in return, a promise to call for a night with these kind friends on their return. s in ri a so di n las yo bo pla ce1 rol fini rio ap lu ght Ab lit n ne t Li c r rd er te, tr nc5 T h he RA e m ired dir out :le 1 d. 'his ab an ace w- ata wi- ,a it. he h ed v xce r an 3 I CHAPTER IV. ON THE WAY. CE'S spirits rose with the sun. She saw erything that was beautiful in the land- llowed by the soft October light. Ernest the way just often enough to keep the action. twelve, they came to a shady spot where brook ran long with a cool, refreshing looks like . good place to rest and eat said Ernest. 'I've been thinking verpy out mother's basket of chicken for the so, while I give Fearnaught his oats, ;et the table." laughingly proceeded to draw out a little ich her mother had stowed away some- d, covering it with a towel, she placed a :h all the chicken it would hold, in the' id then ranged the bread and butter est dinner I ever ate," said Ernest, as he ith Mrs. Wilbur's pumpkin-pie. lent !" said Grace. "But would n't d Annie laugh to see us draw up by the (49) page: 50-51[View Page 50-51] 50 FIFTY YEARS ,AGO. FIFTY YEARS AGO. 51 fence eating on a board. Aunt Lois would call us 'tramps,' and wonder somebody did not look after us." "Poor Aunt Lois !" said Ernest. -" She told me the night before we came away that 'children took a good deal on themselves now--a-days.' When she was young, things were very different. I sup- pose we have been on her mind most of the time since yesterday noon ; but where is the cup, I must have a drink of water." " Not out of this brook !" said Grace. "Fear- naught may drink, and I'll wash my hands in it, but we must wait until we come to a well." " I do not believe a dinner is often more thor- oughly enjoyed than this of our young friends under the maple-trees, with now and then a golden- tinted leaf dropping at their feet, or a wandering squirrel pausing to see who could have invaded his retreat. Behir d them lay home, father, mother, brothers and siste s, an unbroken band, no feelings of uncertainty as to what might happen while they were gone, sadd ned their bright anticipations. Before them was the long-talked-of visit, with its half-formed visions of something different from, and beyond anything they had ever seen. Few such rests will come again in their life-journey; but they do not know it now, and we will not dim -heir clear sunshine with the dark clouds of com- ing experience. Fearnaught ad enjoyed it too. Ernest took off his harness and let him have a good roll, and then, leading him to the brook, left him to drink at his leisure. " Nov', then, old fellow, you must do your bes tw ~1 agi to- of stov eate took had all t his said we v wee fore. ter , I tha «I can s men T tions wrol back Th nt ea ~1 ay ne ed i a le An Ie er e w at G us ye I ut ak m pir in fy fo sai he, "for you have got to go at least -five miles before you have any more to eat." naught put his nose down for an encour- pat, and, looking about him, seemed to say, ead for you." t much work to clear away the dinner-table, ," said Grace, as she threw away the bones whole chicken, shook out the towel, and away the board. "Just think, Ernest, we've. whole chicken ! What would mother think !" d we had it to eat," said her brother. d so am I." re we go--just one o'clock !" and Ernest t the big silver watch which his Uncle Henry t him for the occasion, and surveyed it with satisfaction possible in such a possession. onder how Uncle Henry came to lend you h, when he did not approve of our going ?" ace. as Aunt Lois brought us the crullers-if ld go, they would help us. I don't think knew how.much they all cared for us be- shall try and help father all I can this win- of school-time. I want him to know that him for letting us go.' ean to help mother, too," said Grace. "I flax nearly as well as Annie; but I do hate g 'and sewing on the boys' clothes." did not d well long on these good resolu- r, on nquiry, they found they had taken a urn in the road, and were obliged to gq alf mile to get-right again. afternoons are not very long when October page: 52-53[View Page 52-53] '1 52 FIFTY YEARS AGO. days come; the sun had set, and still they were some miles from Uncle Josiah's.-. "I have inquired for the town so long," said Er-. nest, "that I almost .expect to see Uncle Josiah's house the first thing when we get to it. Who knows hoaw many miles we shall have to ride before we come to it?" At last the town was reached, and then came in- quiries for Mr. Josiah Munson. Every body seemed to know him, but that did not hinder his house from being at the extreme end of the town, stretching the twenty-five miles to nearly thirty, and causing Ernest some anxiety lest Fearnaught should be overtaxed. At last the moon shone on a long brown house which a passer-by said belonged to Mr. Josiah Munson. Here, then, our travelers were to stop ; so, fastening Fearnaught at the post, they went up the path and knocked .at the front door. No an- swer came. Only the moonbeams touching up the sombre-looking dwelling gave any light to objects within or without. "hKock again," said Grace, after waiting for some minutes; and knock, knock, went Ernest's knuckles, as if he meant somebody should hear. " Oh, dear !" said Grace, "it looks lonesome here. I believe I am homesick." Ernest smiled ; for his brave-hearted sister had never faltered a moment before since he first told her his wish to make the journey. " Har {.soma- body's coming." Just then an inner door opened, and there was a pause, as if a listener ,waited. to hear a sound. 1 cl do, or ro sil the his fat sis ti IN t4 so ti v FIFTY YEARS AGO. E he e r r d "1 ] id wi n "I iy Lisf en en a in rac or m ha rn je er nest gave another rap. "Go round to the r door," said a tremulous old voice. , y this the family dog had taken the idea that things not all as they should be; so, while his mas- rent to listen one way, he ran round the corner began tobark furiously at the strangers. know he isn't any thing like Cousin George," Grace ; "and I'm afraid of his cross dog, too. sh I was going to stay somewhere else. I this is what Annie calls 'looking up rela- arking dogs never bite,' said Ernest. "So on 'round to the other door,' if that is the to get in." e dog havingdischarged his duty, quite to-his action, ran ahead and led the vWay to the kit- entrance of the house. The door was wide and an old. man with white-hair, and leaning staff, stood in it. The moonbeams had come I too and covered the old man with their soft, light. He looked weird and story-like to e, bu1 his voice was very kind; when he said, ne in, young people. I cannot unlock that my hand is so weak with rheumatism. My [son lets folks in there, and he has gone away. ome right into the kitchen." He looked at very closely as they came in, and extended nd to welcome them. pest answered his glance of inquiry, by saying, do not know us, but you will remember our Henry Winthrop, of Beechford. This is my Grace, and I am Ernst Winthrop." enry Winthrop's children !"said Mr. Munson, page: 54-55[View Page 54-55] 54 FIFTY YEARS AGO. with a bewildered look at his young guests. "'Where did you come from ? Is Henry with you ? Come in, come in. Mother, bring a light. Do you hear what he says? They are Henry Win- throp's children !" Mrs. Munson was not far away. Her surprise was quite equal to,.her husband's... With candle in one hand, and the other extended in cordial welcome, she advanced to meet them. "Why, children ! how did you come ?" said she. "How did you ever find the way out here? When did you come from home ?" "Our horse and gig are at the gate," said Ernest, "and we left home day before yesterday." "Come right in ahd sit down by the fire," said Mr. Munson; "the nights are coolish this time of the year," and the old gentleman bustled round with uncommon activity, and placed two high- backed chairs in front of the fire. "I'm sorry enough that Jared isn't to home. Joseph," said he, addressing a young boy who had come in from out doors, "you can sho y this young man where to put his horse, and feed it for him. Put the carriage on the barn-floor." "Yes, sir," said Joseph, glad enough to have something to do with the new-comers. While Ernest had gone out, Mrs. Munson took Grace into the spare-room to take off her bonnet and shawl, and then seeing her comfortably seated in one of the high-backed chairs, proceeded to get supper. Mr. Munson went to the door every few minutes, as if his anxiety.must make up for his ina- bility to .go out and attend to feeding the horse I t a t r t n a fi ti or gi he to of pa 'irr Kh av ar ut es ii 0 In or in 1 us Si It ce -n ls us hif "i si self. "It beats all Jared should be away just n we want him. so," said he. "I am sorry to ° any body come so far and then have to take of a horse. Once I could have done it myself, I ain't spry as I used to be." Never mind, Uncle Josiah," said Grace, "Er- is used to taking care of Fearnaught; he ks nobody else can do it." Well, well, I'm glad if he is. There's plenty ts, and Joseph knows all about the barn." hen Ernest came in, the supper was ready, in the cheerful welcome diffused over every g, Grace forgot her first impressions. hen the tea-things were removed, Mrs. Mun- drew up the. little round stand, and placing tallo candles upon it, took out her knitting- , while Uncle Josiah seated himself in his chair, in the corner, Where he could poke the now and then. 'm so sorry Jared went to that quilting party ght," said the old lady ; "he will have to stay te that he won't have any chance to see his ins to-night." le must make it up to-morrow," said Uncle h. "We want them all to ourselves to-night." was like lifting a veil from the past, the ques- thes aged people asked about a place where thei names had been familiar. Through her Mother Grace knew many of the friends of ncle's manhood; and as she was accustomed ten full of respect and attention .to her stories e when she was young' she made a most com- nable guest for Mr. and Mrs. Munson. FIFTY YEARS AGO. 55 page: 56-57[View Page 56-57] FIFTY YEARS AGO. " What made you think of coming to see us ?" said the good old lady; "yohng folks don't usually care about looking up old ones." Then Ernest told his story of going to visit his Uncle Edward. " That's right !" said Mr. Munson; "but you ex- pect to stay and make us a little visit too, don't you ?" "Not now. When we come back, we hope to stop another night, and tell you about our visit." "When we went to Beechford the last time," said Mrs. Munson, musingly, "I left a hou se full of children-pretty much as your mother would now-and they have all gone. How time does change every thing !" "Well, mother ! the clock says it is time for these young folks to go to bed. If they must go in the morning,. we must help them off." "I'm so sorry about Jared's being away, but they can't wait for him." Then the old man knelt by his armed-chair, and thanked God for b inging these ,young friends from his early home tp glad- den his way with good tidings of those he loved to remember. He prayed that they might be kept in- safety by the way, and 'return with rejoicing to their home. Rising from his knees, he extended a hand to each of them, bidding them sleep soundly, for they would need to be wide awake early to- morrow. "Another beautiful morning," said Grace, as she pushed away the curtain and looked out to- wards the rising sun. "I wish I could see other a minute this morning. I should :have s many things to tell her. It seems to me as if i was a 1 "C 2 ml to so 1a kit boi wa gr Be h ak ee: as va ne on: ak ee: So t 4i "r FIFTY YEARS AGO. 57 nth since we started. 1 shall have a long letter write her when we get to Boston." Here her iloquy ended, and she hastened to be in readi- ;s for the early breakfast which Mrs. Munson i promised to havein waiting for them. t vas all ready when Grace came into the neat :hen, and Jared was there -too. He net his sins with shy cordiality ; said he was sorry he s away the evening before ; he had heard his ndm ther speak so often of their relations at echfo d, that he wanted to get acquainted with m. 'his as a remarkably long opening speech for ed, and made his grandmother more than ever ret t at he had not been at home. After break- Un le Josiah again commended them to the ;chfu care of their Heavenly Father, and then was ready to speed their going. He went out the larn to .see if Fearnaught had been well en care of. Then he looked into the, gig, and .ng the .nearly-empty bag lying there, he drew ut, ar d told Jared to fill it as full at it would 1. I1e bustled back into the house to see mother " had remembered to give them some- g to eat by the way. I haven't seen 'father' so spry in ten years," Mrs. Munson to Grace. " He could n't sleep nigh t, talking oyer and thinking about the old :e. Your visit has done him a deal of good. I T wish it could be longer." rs. Munson. brought a pie and some cake so pactly done up, that she was sure Grace could y it on her lap until they got hungry. Grace page: 58-59[View Page 58-59] 58 FIFTY YEARS AGO. thanked her, and told her that they had whole chicken, and cake and cheese, which mother had put up. But this did not satisfy Josiah; he knew they would want it befor got to Edward's; they must take it; youn always got hungry before they expected tc anxiety decided the matter, and then, with charges to take "this. road," and "that right corner," they were permitted to depart. "How glad they were to see us," said "If our great-uncle received us so kindly sure Uncle tdward will." "If we only had another uncle or cousin about fifty miles from here," said Ernest might call our journey quite a triumphal I begin to feel a little important, living ov events of father's and grandfather's times. I. not wonder if we get to be somebodymor 'children' when we get home." "Wait until to-night," said Grace. "O portance will all disappear when out of the of father and mother's freinds, we get into strange public-house. I do n't like that.par journey very much." "I rather expect to enjoy it. In the me I must keep my eyes open, or I shall n that ' right-hand corner' Uncle Josiah to about." Grace did not. mistake when she said, glad they were to see us." They had co memories of pleasant things into the two holds where they had passed in each a night In those days, when letters were events, still a their Uncle they folks .His many t-hand Grace. I am living "we arch. . er the hould than r im- reach some of the n time it find ld me FIFTY YEARS AGO. 59 in slow, indirect and tedious, dear friends were ig oran of each other's welfare for months, and so etimes for years. It required more relaxation fr m care than usually tell to the heads of families in Newx England, to accomplish a visit. To-day, when we have every facility to keep upwith our ab ent friends, we can hardly appreciate the im- p0 tance which attached itself fifty years ago to the arrival of a guest who brought tidings of ab- se t .loved ones. It was equal to volumes of let- te s, and files of newspapers; it freshened and str ngthened old ties, and filled up a vacancy which we never know. We must not stop to moralize, or we may lose sight of Fearnaught, who trots off at go d speed as if his night's rest had made him equal tc the toils of the day. They were many mi es from Uncle Josiah's when the silver watch told the hour of twelve, and their prompt dinner a wvered to the summons. The other chicken t sted a§ good as its fellow of-'yesterday. Aunt M artha's pie was an addition to its relish, and Un- cle Josiah's oats were an unexpected, gift to Fear- naught. Ernest hactintended to fill _up the bag at some farmer's by the way. They rested again, as on the day before, and then rode on until the afternoon shadows reminded them that no more uncles or cousins were waiting to welcome them, and they must begin to look out for the 'tavern " about which Edward 'Nelson's uncle hadl told- them. Fearnaught tried to make the most of the waning daylight, but evidently he was tire:1 ancd after going on. without. seeing any house which looked 4s if it were waiting for tray- 'How e 'like house- :ravel- 0 page: 60-61[View Page 60-61] 6o FIFTY YEARS AGO. elers, Ernest asked a man whom they met it was to the a"tavern." "'Bout four miles from here." "None nearer than that?" . " Wall, yes, come to think,-no, not a tav actly neither ; but Mr. Lester sometimes travelers when they git belated." "Where does he live ?" "'Bout a mile from here straight ahead. from far ?" as if some knowledge of their ings would be a proper compensation for formation hehad given them. . 41 "Some ways back," said Ernest, with a ".thank you " for the intelligence that Mr. sometimes kept travelers when they were b A few inquiries enabled them to stop bef door. It was scarcely dark, but the house lighted up that Grace concluded either many travelers had been belated, or someth usual was going on. Ernest went to make inquiries, while hi sat anxiously waiting the result. Of course must stop somewhere, and it might as well house as the tavern; but it was her first rea ing with utter strangers, and she shrank fro stinctively. She could not hear the conve between her brother and the person who the door ; evidently the person disappear Ernest w s waiting for an answer. Pres lady came and after speaking a few momen her, Ernest turned and caine to her. "This i Mr. Lester's, and they do son peep travelers;- but to-night they have a tea ow far ern ex- keeps Come elong- the in- polite Lester elated. ore the was so i good ing un- sister e they be this I meet- m it in-. rsation pened ed, and ntly a ts with etitnes -drink. ing, or something of that sort, and are quite full. Still they say if we can put up with such accom- modations as they can give us, we may come in. What do you say ?" "I'm sure I do not know." Fearnaught decided the case by a beseeching whinny. He seemed to think he ought to be con- sulted and his decision would be, "No more ex- plorin to-night." "T hat expresses your feelings, old fellow," said Ernest, giving him kindly pat. "You are. tired, and have gone far .nough for one day. We will take your advice. Come, Grace ; Fearnaught was brought up at Beechford, and he knows what it is best to do in this case," and helping his sister out from the gig, he went with her into the house. Mrs. Lester had disappeared, and a young lady, evidently her daughter, came to meet them, and took them into a little side-room, already well filled with hoods and shawls. "We have a good many friends with us this evening," said the young lady. "My brother is twenty-o e years old to-day, and father wanted to notice it in some vay. A few of our friends will stay all night, so w shall have to give you a very small room." "That is much better than riding in a strange place so far in the dark," said Grace. " Can I be near my brother?" "Close by. Will you go up and take off your things." ' She did not feel uch lik going until she saw Ernest come in, but thinking she might be detain- FIFTY YEARS AGO. 61 page: 62-63[View Page 62-63] 62 FIFTY YEARS AGO. ing Miss Lester, she went up-stairs with he small, but very neat room. Here, Miss Les her, telling- her that she would probably f brotherini the side room where they came i Grace laid off her bonnet, shook the du her dress, washed her face, and smoothed h ing curls,,and then her toilet was finished could hear merry voices down stairs, and the of many feet, as if life and activity were at her, while 'she felt very strange and lonesome was sure Ernest must have come in by thi So she ventured to find her way to him in t room, where the hoods and shawls were. Lester had just been in to apologise for p them in that room, but it was least occupied this evening, and could they wait a little w tea. " We do not care for tea," said Grace. not hungry." Mrs. Winthrop's basket of cake could be ness to this; it was only shelter and rest night which they needed. "Now," said Grace, when they were "this seem to me very much like a dream, did we come from home ?" "This is only Wednesday night, and home Monday," said, Ernest. "It seems to me a month, at least," said "I wish it was morning now, and we we going instead of just coming." " I don't know as I care to stay hut up room all the evening. I had rathe go, and acquaintance with soine of the ow' ners of into a ter left nd her t from r shin- . She sound about She s time. e side Mrs. utti ng of any ile for We are ar wit. or the alone, when e left Grace. e just n this make these FIF Y YEARS AGO. 63 hoods and shawls; there, for instance, is a hood lined with pink,I tink I should like a little chat with its owner," an Ernest pointed to an unusu- ally coquettish little head-covering which lay amid a heap of grave one. " For my part, I like the hoods best. I would not go in the othe room for anything," said his sister. Grace had hardI finished her sentence before the young lady who had met them at the door ap- peared, to say tha her mother would be very happy to have Mr. nd Miss Winthrop come into the other room and spend the evening. Miss Winthrop w s on the oint of declining the invitation very decidedly, w len Ernest accepted it. He was out on an expedition, and had left all the cares which made him "as old as father" at home with that'same father, and the novelty of going with entire strangers rather pleased him. Without appearing to notice his sister's reluctance, he drew her hand i his arm, and followed Miss Lester into the other room. Mrs. Lester came to meet them, and conducted them to a seat, then, with motherly pride she brought along her son, who was the hero o the evening, and introduced him. Their entrance was rather an interruption to the games which were going briskly on. "Who are they ?" "Where did they come from ?" went in sly wb ispers around the circle, until it was fairly understood that Mr. and Miss Winthrop were brother and sister, stopping over night on their way to Boston. 'N page: 64-65[View Page 64-65] FIFTY YEARS. AGO. Strangers in those days were su they belonged to the events of si produced more or less sensation house did not really belong to th large, and well filled with food from if an occasional traveler came for he was rea, dy to receive him. After the first embarrassment o had worn away, Grace found hers ject of attention. Ernest, meanti to repay the politeness of his hos himself as agreeable as possible. ed well. He even thought he disc er of the pink-lined hood, he certai it would well become. I Grate did the diversions quite so heartily. and but for Ernest would have w early hour. She had an appointe every game, and some forfeits cam deem, but she managed to evade t some way she gave her share of some other hands. It seemed to mother wquld think it so strange ing familiarly with people wh om seen until this evening. Her unco rather distanced the admiration w face and p easing manners excited. In due t me supper was announc Grace cast a beseeching look at h was obliged to see him lead out the er of the pink hood, while she ac h nor of the evening, and was escor by the son and heir, and tried to see c:h rarity nall tow Mr. public.; his ampl rest and their e lf quite me, dete tess, by nd hes vered t nly foun not ent She felt withdraw part in e for he e latter, the gam her as :o see he she had nscious which her ed, and er broth suppose epted t ed to th m intere es that s, and ester's it was e farm , heater, trance an ob- mined making cceed- e own- a face er into lonely, at an nearly to re- and in es into if her r play-, never ignity sweet hough er, she d own- e first e table ted in 64 FIF'Y YEARS AGO. 65 what he was saying. A long table graced the New England kitchen, an temptingly spread with every- thing good which ain ample farm and skillful house- wife could produce The doughnuts and cheese which Ernest had eaten before dark, seemed to be- long to a period lon passed away, so he was well prepared to do justice to the birth-night supper. Grace had very little appetite, so she amused her- self in a quiet observation of the mirthful company, participating only as ,far as absolute politeness de- manded. It was son e time fter their return to the "front- room," before Grac got an opportunity to tell her brother how tired she' was, and how necessary it was that they should get rested for their next day's ride. Out of compassion for her, he excused both her and himself to Mrs. Lester and her daughter, and bidding them good-night, escorted Grace to her little room close by his own. Many inquiries were made after them, and many regrets expressed at their early departure, but the festivity went on while they slept, and were refreshed for their next day's journey. I page: 66-67[View Page 66-67] CHAPTER V. THE ARRIVAL. WELL,Grace !" said Ernest riele the next day, "you new character last night. I could my senses, ghat Miss Dignity was no laughing sister, the first to carry o fun at home. I think mother wou you her proper representative." "Fun at home, Ernest, is a very I never thought of being dignified, but i felt strange and out of place. all the girls I know so well, of cours about any thing but a good time. thinking of Uncle Edward, do you getthere to night?" "We can but it will be late, and are as crooked as Mr. Lester told me I shall prefer daylight to find my wa even know where the house is." Another night spent in a very.qu ten miles from Boston, refreshed our gave them a long morning to finish tions. It would be useless to tell of .(66) 7' I during ame ou hardly other th it all so d have FIFTY YEARS AGO. 67 their t in a credit an my rts of calledd Ernest made, or of the winding ways he drove; it is sufficient to say, that about twelve .o'clock Fear- naught was drawn .up in front of an imposing, three-story brick house, the like of which, neither Erne t nor his sister had ever seen. Gr ce followed. her brother up the broad stone steps, feeling strangely forlorn, and wishing, with all her heart, that she was standing at the old porch at home. The huge,. brass knocker shone like gold, even the lion's mouth- which held it looked formidable, but Ernest had, not come all this way to be daunted in the end, so he knocked bravely. The summons was answered by a shining black man, neatly dressed.. He held the door open with a look of perplexed curiosity. "Does Colonel Winthrop live here ?" said Ernest. "Yes, sar," said Ralph. "Is he at home ?" "Yes, sar." "I wish to see him." The door was opened wider, and with a wonder- ing look, as if he did not fully comprehend his vis- itors, Ralph showed them into the parlor. This was so different from the picture Grace had drawn,! She thought her cousin Laura would come to the door, and she should tell her who they were, and then her uncle and aunt would come right in, and they would be taken into the spare .room, a great deal handsomer than theirs at home, of course, but not in the least like this ! "What name shall I tell master ?" asked Ralph . "I will tell him when he comes," id Ernest, hardly knowing what reply he gave. ifferent thing. as you call it; At home with I never think But now I am elieve wp can if the s this mor . Wed iet inn ravelers heir exp the inqu reets ing, not bout and lora- iries 4 page: 68-69[View Page 68-69] 68 FIFTY YEARS AGO. Ralph gave them another look, and went out, leaving them alone in these wonderful parlors. Colonel Edward Winthrop, the owner of this stately mansion, and indeed the whol block in which it stood, left his father's farm at Beechford, a youth of seventeen, to serve his country in its mighty struggles against oppression. Entering the army as a private, he had, by his coolness, courage and mark- ed ability to carry out plans, been raised to the rank of Colonel. He suffered with the army in its winter at Valley Forge, and shared in its victory at Yorktowp. When peace was declared, and the army disbanded, Colonel Winthrop Ihad acquired a spirit of independent-adventure which the quiet of his native hills would never sati fy. Through some army acquaintances, he sought and obtained an advantageous mercantile situation in an import- ing house in Boston. Here his corr ctness of de- portment, his unbending integrity, and his finan- cial ability so thoroughly won the onfidence of his employers, that. in time they received him as sharer, and t last into equal partnership with them- selves in the firm. Wealth had come into his pos- session with astonishing rapidity, and now at sixty- two he is tall, erect, and very dignifie in his bear- ing, with ceremonious habits, and fixed ways. The dinner hour must not vary, the carriage must be at the door for his daily drive at a near eleven o'clock as possible. His wife he always expected to accompany him at this hour, and his daughter, too, unless she chose to do something els. It was so manifestly his pleasure, that she counted it among 1.er daily duties. He always rode on horseback K FIFTY YEARS AGO. 69 before breakfast, but was sure to be back in time, not to keep it waiting a moment;. His friends called him cold, and unapproachable, still they en- joyed .his genial moods. His hospitality was un- bounded, his kindness reaching into many a poor dwelling, where the donor was unknown. Mrs. Winthrop was some ten years his junior. She was born, and had lived in England, until her eighteenth year, so that her tastes and habits par- took strongly of her early education. Loving Col- onel Winthrop devotedly she accepted his country, and sympathized with him as, far as she could, but their early training had been so different, that she could never understand that part of his life which had stamped the man so indelibly. She had never visited the old homestead and knew little of his brothers or the scenes of hisboy- hood. He could not tell why he never spoke to her of them; only such was his nature that he-*kept them as hidden treasures. -He had met and won her in scenes so widely apart from them that they never blended in his mind. His father and mother died before his marriage ; and without the bonds of letters and occasional visits, he seemed, almost a stranger to his e rly home. Of late his thoughts had often gone ba k to the dear old starting-place, and sometimes there would come a longing to drink from the clear water of the well, or sit in the old oaken chair on the porch. At times he could almost hear the murmur of the little stream which ran through (the middle of the farm, where he had so often stopped to let the cows drink when he was driving them home at night. Then he would think I I page: 70-71[View Page 70-71] FIFTY YEARS AGO. of the dinner in the old' kitchen pi mother's hands, and which'. even no distance seemed more delicious tha ate. He wondered how his br ther twenty years older, looked filling his and the children ! how many were t did they compare with his father's chi Sometimes during the last summer brances had been so vivid that he Mrs. Winthrop about going to Bee his brother and the old place. If it p go, she expected he would, without agement on er part. She'only said, and me to g too ?" and here the subj Laura was nineteen; she had inher stateliness fr m her father which ma older.. Her. hair and eyes were ver her complexion clear and dark. She. all the advantages of education which supply ; and having left school and ent she was receiving the usual amount hich attractive young ladies with ple nd waiting for them. She was a sprig sting girl, with a 'heart full of affection epressed by .he stately atmosphere he loved her father, 'but she could ne ar with him. .She pleased him by 1 bservance of his "time and place," h f 'manner and dress, and her flatterin i society. Such were the relations whon, as rnest and Grace were ".looking up," we go back to the parlors where we le pared by his v in the dim 1 any he ever [enry, grown father's place; ere, and how ldren ? hese remem- ad spoken to hford to see eased himto any encour- " Are Laura ct ended. ted a certain de her seem y black, and had enjoyed money could red society, of attention ty of money ghtly, inter- only it was )f her home. er be famil. er punctual r propriety reception Annie said, and now if t them and follow their wondering eyes, we shall see that the rooms are very spacious and connected by folding- doors, that the ceilings are high, the 'carpets so unlike that model of stripes in the spare roo n at home that it can hardly bear the ,same name. No bom in America had ever produced such a mavel cf beauty ; it was a study in itself to their n- sophisticated eyes. Then the mirrors! it would surely tak e three or four of those at home to make one of these; and the tables were so beautifully carved, and the chairs were so handsome! "Ernest," whispered Grace, "what is that long narrow table on the other side of the room, with so many twisted legs, it .looks as if it opened with a lid." "I don't know," said Ernest. "I'm getting pretty near the end of my knowledge, and if Uncle Ed- ward does not come before long, I shall find my way back to Beechford. I had rather cut hay all day than sit here perched up in this strange place." "It is so different from anything I expected," said Grace, "it seems alniost like fairy land. Hark! I hear somebody coming!" Just then the door opened, and the stately man advanced to see who waited for him. With a native dignity, as rhuch a part of himself as it was of his uncle, Ernest rose to ,meet him. "It is Colonel Winthrop, I 'believe?" said he. "Yes ;" and a pair of kecn eyes rested on the young man's face with sudd n intensity. "I am Ernest Winthrop, your brother Henry's son, and. this is my sister Grace." Grace had risen and stood by her 'brother's side, ! i, .'i j S e 71 70 FIFTY YEARS AG6. 1 1 page: 72-73[View Page 72-73] 72 FIFTY YEARS AGO.' both of them directly in front of th a moment he seemed like one in gave them a searching glance, and t relaxed their sternness. " Ernest a throp !" said he, slowly. "My b children ! Where did you come fro "We lef home on Monday and this mornir g. Our horse is at your "Sit down, sit down," said he, gi each; "tel me more about this, I stand it yet Did-your.father know, ing here ?" "Yes, sir; he helped us off, or w have got other's consent to und journey." Colonel Winthrop was greatly md den calling) up of his brother's nam faces bearing strong traces of their come upon him so suddenly, touc spring in slch an unexpected mome forced to yield to its influences. He the unbidden and unwonted tears as. them. Recovering himself speedi and looking steadily for a moment, my mother's name, and almost my again he extended his hand and Gra ly to him; this time he folded her if she embodied all the sweet memori hood and .outh ; releasing her, he l Ernest's ha d, and then asked man their home pnd parents. "You are very welcome here," at. 1 "You come to me bringing buried t FIFTY YEAR AGO. eir uncle. For a dream. He en his features d Grace Win- other Henry's m?" got to Boston door." ving a hand to, cannot under- ou were com- e could never ertake such a ved ; this sud- e, these young arentage, had ing a hidden t, that he was brushed away f he disdained y, he turned, said, " Grace! other's face !" e came quick- o his heart as )s of his child- again pressed r questions of length he said. easures, and I 73 shall have a great many qu stions to ask you, but now I must tell your aunt rnd cousin of your ar- rival." "Laura," said he, goingto the door and speaking to some one who had just come in, "I want you here." Laura came; the expression on her father's face was unusual. She saw the strangers sitting near the window ; she hardly comprehended when he led her towards them and said, "Your cousins, Grace and Ernest Winthrop, from Beechford." She had heard of her Incle Henry, but of his children she knew nothin . Sometimes in her yearnings for brother or sister, she had wondered if she had no cousins who could in any degree fil the place, but she seldom sp ke to her father about such things. One glance revealed that her cousin's dress was provincial; but that sweet face! and that irresistible charm of a refined nature which spoke in the simple act of salutation,,opened Lau- ra's heart at once. She felt that there had come to her the very love she had so long desired. Er- nest pleased her too; he did not seem out of. place in his new surroundings. There was such a quiet independent manner in his, greeting, that she felt an involuntary respect for him. "Come, daughter," said Colonel Winthrop, "take your cousin up to your mother's roam." "I suppose I must look after my' horse, Uncle," said Ernest, going to the window. "Give yourself no trouble about him. I will see that he is taken care of." The little trunk was carried up-stairs, and then, 4 l i l page: 74-75[View Page 74-75] FIFTY YEARS AGO. 75 having se fn Fearnaught driven aw coachman, Er est went up to his onel Winthro told him he would time to dress for dinner. "Dress for dinner !" said Erne alone, ''in my case it will be~ kull and putting it on again; my boo that I am almost afraid of them, an some of Annie's very best making look. a little shabby by the side' mother told me it would before I s Ernest had expected to have a n of the indispensables of this visit, he could, the means for getting o obtained. The winter, with its dem the family, and the idea of getting some knowledge of how the deb was never entertained in the W His mother had expressed her sc tested it as one reason why the vi layed for another year. Grace remonstrated at this. they waited for a new coat, they s besides,.said she, "Ernest loos b worn coat than anybody I knoW in She had brushed it, and rubbed Annie had put. on new 'buttons at the button - holes; it was so renov had been going to stay at home, 1 have thought of a new one. .H thought of it since he left home-it uncle's made him think of it now; it off and brushed, it carefully, he y by his uncle's oom where Col- have ,plenty of t, when he was ing off my'coat :s shine now so d my collars are My coat does of uncle's, but tarted." ew coat, as one )ut, plan as best ne could not be hands, was before in debt without t could be met inthrop family. rrow, and sug- it should be de- he declared, if ould never go;. tter in his half- a new one." off every spot. d worked over. ated that, if he e would hardly had scarcely contrast to his but, as he took esolved that it should not spoil his visit or hinder him from getting all the ideas he could while he staid in Boston. He gave his glossy, chestnut hair an extra brush. His well-shaped mputh and fine, dark eyes express- ed more power than, wanting these, all the tailors in the land could have given him. Mrs. Winthrop met her niece with kindness. She was never demonstrative. She was glad she was so pretty, and if her husband and daughter were pleased at her coming, she was glad she had come. She came down to the parlor just before dinner to be introduced to Ernest. She was very cor- dial, and.even fancied he bore some. resemblance to his uncle. The announcement of dinner came very soon, and our travelers who, for the last three days, had dined by the road-side, found themselves seated at an elegant table in a richly-furnished dining-room.. The goblets were of silver, the dishes all perfectly matched, and Ralph, the shining black man, who met them at the door, took his place behind his master's chair. Grace instinctively felt that here was a new place, and that awkwardness or mistake would annoy her uncle especially. It was a mutual mystery to. herself and Ernest how they ever got through with 'that, ceremonious dinner. They thought of home, and the table set with blue-and- white dishes, and di-shes that were, not white-and- blue. Several variet es they could have mention- ed-it was not the dishes, it was the freedom they .were thinking of, and they wished Ralph would have some errand that would take him out. of the z T= f J , 5 .r I t G f t , i r i z _ 74 FIFTY YEARS AGO. page: 76-77[View Page 76-77] 76 FIFTY YEARS AGO. room entirely. It seemed to them ha4 they could' not eat while he stood there watching them. Then tney thought of their last thre dinners, how free and easy they had been with orly the squirrels to watch them. They felt greatly relieved when, at last, they rose from the 'table without having made any positive mistake. "Going to Boston" was a more wonderful undertaking than they had imagined. "I shall go to drive this afternoon, and take Ernest with me,"'said Colonel Winthrop. Grace went to her room to unpack her trunk, and to begin a letter to her mother. Laura went to her mother's room. "Is n't she lovely, mother ?" " Yes, she is ; but you must put a few touches to her dress. You can attend to tha better than I can. She might think I was finding fault." About an hour 'after, Laura tapped lightly at her cousin's door, and found her busily writing to, her mother. " I was going to ask you to let e come in and sit with you, but I shall interrupt you." " Never mind that. I did not intend to finish my letter until I had seen Ernest again. 'Do come in." It was astonishing how rapidly their acquaint- ance progressed. Laura was asking about "mother and Annie and father and the boys and little Mary," and Grace felt as if talking about them to an inter- ested listener was next to seeing them. After awhile Laura unrolled a beautiful piece of ribbon which was lying in her work-basket. " Isn't FIFTY YEARS AGO. that pretty ?" said she, handing it to Grace. "I bought it this morning to trim my bonnet." Grace had. never seen anything so beautiful in the way of ribbons, so she expressed her admira- tion of it. " I am going to treat you just as if you were my sister," said Laura; "and as I never had one, maybe I shall- be tyrannical. But you must not rebel. You must not say a word if I put this rib- bon on your bonnet and get some' more for my- self." She took Grace's bonnet in her hand as she spoke, and laid the rich ribbon over it. "There !" said she. "Your straw is very white and neat- looking, but I know you cannot get such ribbon in Beechford." Grace did not tell her she went six miles on horseback to get a brand-new ribbon for this very visit, and paid more for it than for any she or Annie had ever owned before; how Aunt Lois had admired it, and thought there' could be none in Boston to vie with it. She only thanked. her cousin in her own sweet way, and begged her to do just as she pleased with her bonnet. 77 page: 78-79[View Page 78-79] \ s i i r CHAPTER VI. INCIDENTS OF THE VISIT. NATE sill leave Laura and Grace to their pleas- ant chat, and follow Colonel Winthrop and his nephew in their afternoon drive.. Colonel Win- throp had not been long in discovering that. his nephew's coat did not do him full justice. If there had been no way to remedy it, he would have thought it a very secondary' consideration ; but there was, and, with a feeling of relief that he could express his joy at seeing him in some tangible way, he ordered John to drive to his tailor's. Leaving Ernest in the carriage, he went in to in- quire how soon it was possible to make a new suit for a' young gentleman. "We will attend to it immediately," said the proprietor. "Wait a moment, sir, if you please,", said he, as if a sudden thought had struck him. "We have just made a suit for a young gentle- man, a very handsome one. Unfortunately there was a mistake in the size, and he has brought them 'back. They are a size too large, anyway. Per.- haps, as you are in a hurry, you would like to look at them." Colonel Winthrop examined she garments which the tailor produced,' and pronounced them just what he wanted, provided they would fit. Telling the man he would return soon, he went ont to Ernest. Speaking so that John need not hear,.he said, " I want you to go in here with me, and ac- cept what I do, just the same as if you were with your father. If he thought you ought to have a new coat, you would not refuse it. if I can afford to buy it better than he can, then it is my right to, I think, so you must come in with. me here for a few minutes and do just as I think best." It was Ernest's turn to be amazed now. He be- gan to say something, but his uncle stopped him by saying, "No time for words now,; this is ac- tion." There was something so decided and prompt in his manner that .Ernest started as if he must 'be out of the car iage' and following him quickly. Once before they reached the door he managed to ejaculate " Uhcle !" but the rest of it was never heard, for he was hurried on and into the back room to try on lie-new suit. It was prono nced a perfect fit; and if he could have fully understood the light in his uncle's face, he would have k own that this outlet was reliev- ing the pent-up emotions of his heart. It was the first active expression he had given to the mem- ory of his home in Beechford for m py years, and he wondered if it could be true that such an opportunity ha really come to him to-day ! He enjoyed 3rnest's looks of surprise, remon- strance, appreci tion and gratitude; and as they continued their ride, and he :attempted to thank FIFTY YEARS AGO. 79 page: 80-81[View Page 80-81] .8o FIFTY YEARS AGO. FIFTY YEARS AGO. him, he stopped him by saying, " I know you are pleased, and so am I; now we are on equal terms. Remember, I was once a little boy in the same house where you have grown up--that the same parents loved your father and myself; and now, when it is so many years since I have heard from that home, I want you. to understand how glad I am that you came to tell me about it." By this time they had reached home. You can, at least, dress for tea," said his uncle, smiling. Fortunately Ernes met no one as he carried his bundle to his own room. Grace,. at Laura'ssuggestion, had arrayed her- self in Annie's silk. It seemed to her like trespass- ing, for Annie never wore it except on very pleas- ant Sundays, or on some great occasion. She smoothed its folds very tenderly, and assured her- self that she would treat it with great care ; but, of course, she must wear it if Laura wanted her to. "I like the way you arrange your hair," said Laura. , Now, you must wear this collar and rib- bon, and here is a ribbon for your hair to match the one for your neck." It seemed to Grace a ldng time since she h q seen Ernest, and as Laura was not quite ready, s e" thought she would go down to the parlor, hopir to find him alone. She drew back as she was en- tering, for a strange gentleman was there, standing with his back to her.as he looked out of the win- dow. She turned to go away, supposing herself to be unseen. The gentleman turned around and 1 said, in.a voices Grace, I want What did it m it was surely Er Her look of'be brother, and h " This is mo ing towards he would put on ai very first night " Why, Ernes ing very doubt to know what yr looking fellow look,. so hand clothes, and wh Grace's face wa -lowed him to I sorbing interest dinner adventure It so happene the back parlor front. He saw when she first attire ; he heard now in the low he had an inves heart, and richly of the sum depo Mrs. Winthr were too polite dress, but they, if they had felt1a 4* he could not mistake, "Come here, speak to you." ean ! That wasi Ernest's voice, and nest's face, but where was Ernest? iltlerment was too much for, her laughed quietly but most heartily. than I expected," said he, advanc- "I did not think my own sister s and pretend not to know me the. after she got to, Boston !" Winthrop !" sa, d Grace, still look- lly towards hii. "I should like u have put on.. What a splendid ou are ; I did not know you could me ! Where did you get your t would mother and Annie say ?" s lit up with admiration as she' fol- he window, and listened with ab.. to the story he told her of his after- es. that Colonel Winthrop came into bout the time Graq e.came into the he expression of he speaking face recognized her brother in his new her spontaneous admiration, and urmur at the window he felt that ment that sent a glow all over his repaid the principal and interest sited. p and Laura soon came in. They to notice the change in Ernest's would have echoed Grace's words t liberty to do so. page: 82-83[View Page 82-83] 82 FIFTY YEARS AGO. .Tea was less elaborate than dinner had been. Grace did not pay so much attention to the beau- tiful silver service as she'would have done if her eyes had not wandered continually over to the fine- ly dressed gentleman who sat opposite her. There was a merry twinkle in her eye which could scarce be held in check by her strange surroundings. The evening brought some friends of Colonel and Mrs. Winthrop to call. Colonel Winthrop introduced his nephew and neice with evident pleasure, and they quietly enjoyed their new surroundings. "Come, daughter," said Colonel Winthrop, "give us some music. Your cousins would like to hear some, too, I suspect." The gentleman with whoin Laura was convers- ing rose immediately, and went with her across the room to the "long table with twisted legs," which. had attracted Grace's attention when they sat waiting for their.uncle. He raised the lid, and Laura drew out a curious chair from under "the table,"placed some music in front of-her, and with her fingers on the-ivory keys, made such a delight- ful combination of sweet sounds,'that her cousins were silently enraptured. They exchanged most expressive glances; no other manifestat on showed that they had never heard or 'seen a piano before. When Grace laid her head on her pillow that night, she tried to realize all that had befallen her since she left home, but it seemed weeks and weeks ago. Even this first day in Boston had been long- er than three ordinary ones. She felt a ittle afraid of her uncle and aunt, and yet she liked them both. She was delighted with Laura. She wondered FIFTY'YEARS AGO. 83 how Ernest lik d them. She had so much to say to him, but she did not see as there would be much opportunity urtil they were on their way home. She woke the next morning to wonder where she was-a wonde{ which her waking senses quickly dissipated. Laura came for her soon after she was dressed, and they went down-stairs together. Col- onel Winthrop had returned from his morning ride, and Ernest from a short walk. Mrs. Win- throp soon joi ed them, and .then breakfast wa ready. Ernest spent the morning with his uncle, who took him to places of interest in the city Grace went wi h her cousin on a shopping expedi tion. All he life long .she had , only known the buying w ich necessity prompts. it seemed strange to see aura selecting from so. many beau. tiful things just what her taste dictated; such marvels of silk and ribbons almost confused her. She had never even thought of such stores where ladies chose shades and fabrics as their fancy dic- tated. Occasionally she expressed h r admiration, but her wonde ing thoughts were no often suffer ed to escape. As Laura afterwards told her moth er, "She took o pretty things so naturally." The dinner id not seem quite so tedious to her the second da . She enjoyed the long, delightful drive afterwards, and listened with great interes as her uncle jointed out paces of revolutionary interest. The the grand harbor, with its white sails and many islands stretched away in the dig. tance, gave a ondrous variety to the views from the hills. Colonel Winthrop was in his element pointing out his favorite views to .his appreciating page: 84-85[View Page 84-85] FIFTY YEARS AGO. young guests, and only turned hom the declining sun gave speedy warni light was going out. With the evenin friends of Laura's. Ernest was read music on his own account; he even open the piano and turn the leaves of a his cousin sang. Sunday morning Gr pretty shawl,'a new pair of gloves, and ethandkerchief on the table in her roc she thought they must be Laura's, l mistake;. but a bit of paper bearing a p " For Grace," revealed their'destinatio "I never thought of such'kindness "and they do everything as if they ha would not thank them. How can I brother and Annie about it." Annie's silk was doing wonderful se was never worn without a twinge of it seemed as if she would certainly we and then how could it ever be replac gave an approving smile, as she saw the( and gloves fitly adorning her cousin ; too, was so much improved by its han bon, that she felt amply repaid for her change. The'brother and sister excha cant glances, as they took their seat in some carriage with their uncle and Lai smiles responded to their unspoken thoi were at least sure of each other's ide change from the lasta~abbath to this w ened when they found themselves in1 city church. The old church at Been its rows of familiar faces, their own b ward when ig that day- g came some y to ask for ventured to song which ace found a a fine pock- m. At first ft there by encil mark, ," said she, I rather we wait to tell vice, but it conscience ; r it all out, ed ? Laura new shawl the bonnet, dsome. rib- share in the nge signifi- the hand- ra.. Quick ughts; they tity. The as not less- :he strange hford, with ved pastor .# a i r f " a f v t !- ti i' 1 .# t f whose voice as associated with. their sanctuary devotions, the choir where they were both so es- sential, came n loving contrast to their present surroundings, nd made home seem dearer than it had since they left it. The Sabbat- daypassed on. Ernest and. Grace remembered the gathering in the "spare-room " at home ; they knew that they were missed and remembered there. With Monday came new 'plans for riding and sightseeing: Colonel Win- throp, with his usual precision, had arranged t have their whole visit comprise as much of Bosto -and its belongings as would be possible to get mto the time allotted for it. At first he objected to it shortness, but at last compromised the matter by insisting on Ernest's writing to his father that, in- stead of leaving on Thursday as they intended, they should wait until the following Monday. The only real objection was the gig, and that they thought Mrs. Wheeler would excuse when they explained it to her. Ernest's school did not com- mence until the first of November, so he had the time on that account. Colonel Winthrop pro- posed. that Ernest should join him in his morning rides on horseback. Fearnaught always had the appearance on these occasions of being occupied with some mysterious subject, which he vainly tried to solve. It was plainly evident that there was something wrong in his surroundings. He neighed at Ernest in a demanding sort of way, as if he alone could tell him what all this meant, and where "his barn and pasture lot could be found. Grace watch- ed h m from the window, and longed to go out and 85 84 SIFT',. YEARS AGO. page: 86-87[View Page 86-87] 86 FIFTY YEARS AGO. pat him on his glossy neck, but she k ew instinct.' ively that her uncle would not like t have her; he did not understand what a familiar, home-friend this favorite horse was. Laura and Grace were becoming excellent friends. Laura made so many improvements in her toilette, in such a delicate way, that she never felt hurt by seeming to be de- ficient in the many luxurious articles which were so,.indispensable to her cousin. It was Thursday evening, and they had been near- ly a week in Boston. Colonel Winthrop, with his hands folded behind him, was taking his customary walk back and forth throb gh the parlors. Mrs. Winthrop, leaning back in her easy-chair, silently contemplated the group at the piano. Ernest was finding a song which he wished Laura to sing. Laura was softly playing a prelude whilst 'she waited for the song. Grace's attitude was one of unconscious repose. She was thinking of how Annie would enjoy the music, and o how many things she would have to tell her when she got home. Thus communing with herself, her face reflected the quiet happiness within. "My mother!" said Colone Winthrop, to himself, "how she comes back to me in that face; I cannot spare it yet." "Grace!" said he, pausing in his w lk directly in front of her, " I think we must keep you here all winter, and let Ernest go back with- out you." "Father!" said Laura, turning suddenly around, "that is just what I have been thinkin about to- day.'. I -should be delighted to have er stay all F 4 } t f FIFTY YEARS AGO. 87 winter. Do you hear it, mother? would n't you be glad too ?" "bCertainly, daughter. I think it is quite singu- lar that we should each have.thought of it without speaking to any one about it." Grace did not say a word; the proposition was so unexpected, and so impossible, that she only looked her astonishment at Ernest. Then there came such a vision of home, and the dear ones gathered there, that her heart nestled back asiif it would rest in it forever. " Oh, thank you, uncle !" said she, recalling her- self enough to know that they were all waiting for her answer. "I could not let Ernest go. back alone; besides, mother and 'Annie need me very much this winter." "Suppose 'I should write to them, and tell them how much we need you here? -I.think they would consent." "Oh, yes !" said Laura," we will all write ; I must have you for a sister.. I was thinking to-day, that it was you I had- been wanting for a long time. You will let her stay, cousin Ernest, won't you ?" "I hardly know what to say. I think mother would be very much disappointed to see me com- ing home without her." "I know she would," said Grace. "I have had a delightful visit, and shall want to come again very much; but I do not believe, uncle, I could let Er- nest go home without.me." Her tones were al- most tremulous, for the thought of that dear home fading out, of sight for the whole winter was full.of uridefined sarrow.. page: 88-89[View Page 88-89] FIFTY YEARS AGO. " Let it go for to-night," said Color, Perhaps, when you think of it to-i will feel differently. But, remember, us great pleasure to call you' our dau winter, at least." Grace thanked him just like herse cerity he could not fail to appreciate, decision might be.- " No, I cannot st to herself, when she was alone that ni every thing here very much; it is story ; but I could not let Ernest go a Think of not seeing father and mother and the children, for a whole winter ! had not thought of it. He is very, v it seems to me he expects every bod says, and I am afraid I shall offend"h home; but I must go; I shall tell him so I will tell Laura how much they rea and I am sure she will not urge me." ting her troubles, she fell asleep, and home. When she awoke, her mind wa up to brave even her uncle's displeas between her and Beechford. She did nest alone all day, though she watche portunity. Laura was very affection eral times spoke of doing this or that, stay all winter._ Ernest accompanied them on hors they. went to ride. Sometimes her un horseback too, keeping in speaking dis- carriage, occasionally riding up to c point out something of interest. To- with them in the carriage, and as Grac el Winthrop. morrow, you .t would give ghter for the f, with a sin- whatever her iy," said she ght. "I like Most like a rid leave me. , and Annie, I wish uncle ry kind, but y to do as he m by going to-morrow. ly need me, Soon forget. dreamed of s quite made ure, if it lay not see Er.. d for an op. te, and sev- if she would aback when ile went on :ance of the inverse and day he was, e expressed herself with great vivacity over the new things she had seen during her visit, her uncle remarked, "If you ha e seen so much in one week, think how much nore you could s e in a whole winter. You must remember such adyntages do not come to every body." " I know it ; and you are very kind, uncle, to ask me to stay and enjoy them, but I must go back with Ernest. I had to urge mother very hard to let me come for only a week, and I know she will not like it if I do not." This speech cost Grace a great effort, and she waited: to see how it was received. " Well then ! I have thought of a new plan. Suppose next September .I should go to Beech- ford, will you promise to get your father and moth. er's consent to come back with me ?" "Do you really mean you will come to Beech- ford, uncle?" "It is looking into an uncertainty. I do not know what may happen to prevent, but you and Ernest have made me feel so like a boy again, that I am very anxious to see the old place once more. I should like to have your aunt and cousin see the spot where I was once young like you." "I should be "delight d with that plan, father," said Laura; "only I ha1 rather keep Grac now, and take her home fo : a visit then. It is a long time to wait-a whole year." " Oh! it will come quickly, Laura," said Gi ace, with one of her pleased smiles. "I should like that very much, uncle. Father and mother woukt be so glad to see you, and then they might think it best to. let me come back with you." 89 88 FIFTY YEARS AGO. page: 90-91[View Page 90-91] FIFTY YEARS AGO. "Will you come ?" said Laura, rathe sadly. "If they will let me. I should be very happy here, if I had come from home expec ing to stay away so long, and they were reallywilling to let me." Ernest rode up to, the carriage jut .then, and Grace 1 aned out to tell him of their u cle's propo- sition. He smiled his approval of th settlement so heartily, that his sister felt that he. as as much relieved by it as she was herself. Ernest rides splendidly," said Laur . '" Yes, yes," said her father, "we had a fine gallop this morning; it almost made a young man of me. Even your mother told me this morning that I had grown fifteen years younger in the last week." Mrs. Winthrop smiled quietly. She was accus- tomed to seeing her husband polite, but unap- proachable even to his most familiar fri nds, and it did seem to her strange that these two young peo- ple, with whom he had no particular association, should so move him. She had never thought of him as related to anybody but herself and Laura. She enjoyed the new phase in his character, and con- gratulated herself that his nephew and niece were presentable; "for," said she to Laura, "if they had been awkward and disagreeable, your father would have insisted on having his brother's chil- dren made conspicuous when they came so far to look him up." "But she is lovely, mother! Henry Marshall told me last night that she had one of t e sweetest faces he ever saw. "Your father says she has so. much character. He thinks there is something about h r so much like your grandmother. He says she could sur- mount almost any difficulty, and always made things look bright and cheerful about her. He has told me more about her since Grace came, than I ever heard him say before. Did you notice last night how he drew Gr4ce on to tell him how she and Ernest ever got their mother's consent .to making this journey. He told me afterwards that I could not understand the difficulties that lay in the way as he did. But he was convinced that Grace had his mother's way of accomplishing what she set about doing." " Well, I like her as much as father does. I think they have enough at Beechford without her, and 1 wish she would be content to stay with us." "There is not much use in wishing at present. We would not want a captive: and I am sure she would be one, if she staid now. Your father thinks he shall surely go to Beechfo 'd next year. Then she may like to come home wlth us." It was a great relief to Grace, when she found the idea of. going to Beechford was making things smooth. It grieved her, after receiving so much kindness,-to seem so unwilling to stay longer with her friends, and perhaps, by another year, her fath r and mother. might think ,it best, and she might want to come back very much. FIFTY YEARS AGO. 90o 9I, i . ' b. page: 92-93[View Page 92-93] CHAPTER VII. "HOMEWARD BOUND." M ONDAY morning came. Fearnaughi, look- ing fresh and sleek from the hand of his city groom, stood harnessed before Mrs. Wheeler's gig ready to carry our adventurers home. He pawed the stones with .an impatient hoof, as if some new idea had taken possession of him. .Home must be somewhere in the wide world, and he was deter- mined to find it. Grace's trunk was packed to overflowing. It was astonishing how much it could be made to hold. Besides, there was a carpet-bag filled with remembrances for those at home. Not one of them had been forgotten. The box of the gig was packed full. Aunt Nannie and Aunt Lois" had each a white neckerchief. Laura had been so-.interested in Grace's description of them that she wanted to send them something, and Grace had suggested these. Even Fearnaught's bag for oats was filled with packages which were never designed for him to eat up. At last, everything being ready, our travelers took leave of the friends who had welcomed them' so cordially, and done so much to make their visit (9)I both a faces 1: watche man w though which ened h had ev met he " So she wil As o we mu of Bost They said, it with t1 " Sul would me?" " No pect yo ed for uncle next y( to it. The feeling that it " W baskets FIFTY YEARS AGO. 93 greeable and profitable, and turned their omeward. Colonel Winthrop and Laura d them out of sight, and then the stately alked up and down his long parlors and t what a blessed vision he had had of a life 2e had thought all sealed up. It had soft- is heart and awakened all the longings he r had to visit his old home again. must have Grace," said he-to Laura, as he r in the hall. "We want her here." we do, father; and I think if we go for her [come back with us." ar story goes with the " homeward bound," st follow them on their "winding way" out on and on into the open country beyond. had so much to talk about, that, as Grace would need the whole winter to get through e incidents of their visit. pose uncle had insisted upon my staying, you have kept still and, gone home without not if it had come to that. I did not ex- u would stay. Mother would have mourn- you as Jcob did for Benjamin ; but I think s really in earnest about coming for you ear, and then, perhaps, they will let you go." it is so far off I shall have time to get used Perhaps I shall want to go then." tide of conversation went on rapidly until a strongly akin to hunger reminded them was time to look about for dinner. hat are we going to do without mother's of good things ?" said Grace. f f , page: 94-95[View Page 94-95] FIFTY YEARS AGO. Ernest gave a meaning rap on his pocket. ",Uncle was equal to mother, only in another way.- He gave me money enough to .take us home. We can have a good dinner if we can find it." "How kind he was. At first it seemed strange ; but I kept thinking he was father's brother, and then I did not wonder so much.'" "Yes," said Ernest; "-if a stranger had taken me to a tailor's and dressed me up, I should have thanked him, and ut on my old clothes again. I did feel rather uncomfortable at first, as it was ; but I thought father would have been just as gen- erous if he had had Uncle Edward's purse ; and I know, by the way he did it, he meant it." Ernest left his incle's house in these same new clothes, but the second morning of their journey he folded them carefully up and attired himself-in the garments he had worn away from home. Their ride was marked by no especial incident. They spent one night at their Uncle Josiah's whose welcome-was like one who had known'them for years. The shortness of their stay was all that troubled him. H6 wished to hear all about "Ed- ward" and.Boston, and sent so many messages to Henry" and "Arinie," and " Nannie" and " Lois," and "your grandfather and grandmother," that Grace was afraid she should forget them amid the multitude of things she should have to say. "Tell them that I shall go home before long, and I shall expect to see them coming, when their work on earth is done. And I want to see you there, too, my dear children; .don't forget that. You may have a great many friends, but the bless- d Jesu baembe ruth a remul n his. As t knee m fully hone ttitud Grace Mr.a for sev and h oome b Thu ready The Fearna The air a11 their ith n stantia had lef Erne his bus SWh oldest, rothe f the "Yo "I k s must be the first, the dearest of all. Re- this always-' Jesus Christ is the way, the nd the life.' " The old man's voice grew ous as he pressed the youthful hands he held ey drove away, they turned to look at him ore. He stood leaning over the gate, wist- azing after them. His long, white hair n the bright morning sunlight -his whole was striking, and formed a picture which ever forgot. nd Mrs. Wilbur had been expecting them eraldays. Here they passed another night, d much to lell-in a short time. They had ack faster than they went. sday morni g, about ten o'clock, they were o leave Dover for Beechford. had enjoyed the whole ride very much. ught gas in fine spirits, and traveled well. was lear and bracing-they had realized r -anticipations, and were going home laden ew and'pleasant experiences, and many sub- proofs' of remembrance from those they to those they were going to meet. st told Grace of his uncle's inquiries abdut ness expectations. at did you tell him ?" at has long been in my mind. I am the and it seems to me, with so many younger s, I ought to find something to do outside arm." . u are going to teach." now I am, this winter ; and I may work on FIFTY YEARS AGO. page: 96-97[View Page 96-97] 96 FIFTY YEARS AGO. the farm next summer. Father needs me at pres- ent, but the boys are getting older, and I must make up my min4 to do something, you know. 1 cannot 'stay at ho e always." "What did uncle say ?" "He told me he had no active connection with the firm in which he used, to do business, but he had influence, and he would remember me if a de- sirable vacancy should occur. In the meantime, he advised me to read and study all I can keep on teaching, and working with father for, at least, a year longer. He encouraged me very much by say- ing that young mien who are educated -i such a home as ours make the firm, reliable men of the country. He saic I would never be a loser by staying with father, at least, another year, unless a very desirable opportunity should offer." "Home would be very lonely withou you. I don't like to talk about it." " No, we will not. I do not mean to say any- thing to mother about it at present; 1lesides, I think there is mote probability of your going than of mine.. Fearna ght and me will be quite over- looked when you go off in uncle's fine carriage next year." "His carriage is very fine, and I like them all; but home, and fattier, and mother, and A nie, and the children, and every body and every thing. Oh, Ernest! drive faster." And Grace grew more and more like a glad child as they drew nearer home. About four o'clock they came up the hill which brought the dear, old mansion in sight. I'he first object they espied was Arthur, walking leisurely i ( t t I t r C 1] r C in t 5 ct t .1 t . I lo:2g, g. E 'earnai rappe4 eh at ~ele th ea the Decide Liouit a Lop~ th tt ntio i, an a An re e rent th ameb aught 1e e to akket- our. el to mmol it the os ible d ar c Gmace rushed ei hed s eak ie ed ie welc The u [ot. FIFTY YEARS AGO. 97 vith a basket of nuts he had been gather- earing wheels, he turned, and recognized ught. With a look of bewildered joy, .he d his basket, gazing first at the house and the travelers, as if he were balancing which e greatest pleasure, to be the first to tell y had come, or the first to greet them. ing in favor of the latter, he ran with a wild nd was in the gig before Ernest could fairly g horse. His shout had attracted Mary's n She was only a little distance ahead of d she ran the other way to tell her mother ie and every body.. Charles and Henry' gathering something in the garden; away eir wheelbarrow of winter stores, and they funding over the fence by the time Fear- stood at the gate. Mother and Annie were o; all but father, who had gone to the little town and would .not be at home for an Aunt Lois, who had just come out to the get some water for the tea-kettle, heard the ion, and seeing who had come, put her head door to tell Nannie, and then, as quickly as ,was over with the rest rejoicing that the 2ildren" were home again "safe and sound." 's new ribbon was in great danger of being, in her reception. Fearnaught pawed and ,.and acted very much as if he was going too; he was patted and caressed until he quite satisfied that he had had his share of ome. nloading of the carriage was :quite an ex- curious fingers pulled;away at the corners 5 page: 98-99[View Page 98-99] 98 FIFTY YEARS AGO. of bundles, and curious. eyes tried to look through mysterious wrappings. "Children !" said Mrs. Winthrop, in a tPne of au- thority, "don't you touch one of the bundles until Grace gets ready to open them. I shall send you away unless you are more quiet." Ernest's first care was to take the carriage back in the same good condition in which it went away. "Don't unpack your things until after supper, Grace," said Mrs. Winthrop, "the children are so excited now that they are beside themselves. Sup- per will be ready as soon as your father comes." Ernest had just returned .from Mrs. Wheeler's, when Deacon Winthrop drove in sight. Fear- naught and CosaP recognized each other in a mo- ment, and neighed- wonderful welcomes. Father and son clasped hands most warmly. Grace was not' far away, and quickly ran out to greet her father. ~ By the time the family were once more together, the supper was ready. In daily expectation of their coming, the' chickens were ready o frickas.. see at the shortest notice ; the first pumpkin pies of the season were temptingly waiting; and such light, 'warm biscuits and delicious better, and stewed quinces, and fresh doughnuts, and creamy cheese ! and above all, the welcoming 1cve which crowned the home-table that night, made a picture refreshing to remember; for remember i they will out in the coming years. Father, mother, broth- ers and sisters, not a vacant seat ! each making glad the other's life. After the supper things were. cleae away, I kr va 3r ye f., er :ou a] el n lo 0 11 ru A er )ff, he n ce md ace e cc Lau n nd wr king ind to h bo He est, t t lpr r. did ged op sel s. ed nt th n. s b est y h h-a -genI' ir i on FIFTY YEARS AGO. 99 pened her treasures. There was a nice ress for Mrs. Winthrop, one for Annie and f equal softness, but of brighter hues; there liars and ribbons, and two or three dresses a's, slightly worn,\which would make up cely for somebody. Little Mary danced n unspeakable joy over her crimson dress. pped it about her and~was soon discovered across the room with most of it dragging her-an impromptu train, quite as gratify- er as more studied ones are to fine ladies. ys had each been remembered. 7e, father, is uncle's message to you," said handing him a letter. his juncture of affairs Ernest disappeared, esently a loud rap was heard at the front Annie hastened to open it; for a moment - not recognize her guest, only the face be- to Ernest, and wondering she drew back ned the door wider. The gentleman bowed in very politely, and goiig directly up to inthrop, greeted her so warmly that she up in amazement; for a moment silence fell e whole group, but the smile which came rs. Winthrop's face, and the ill-concealed f Grace, seconded the thoughts of the chil- Gathering round their big brother, with imful of admiration, they shouted, ".Oh, " and " why, Ernest! we .did' not know where did you get such clothes ?-you look ndsome." He was obliged to say, " Hands tlemen," and kept them at a distance, or vestigating fingers might have handled his ed broadcloth too roughly. t _w, . , . C page: 100-101[View Page 100-101] IOD3 FIFTY YEARS AGO. "Come, children," said Mrs.: Winthrop, "that will do; you must be more quiet or I shall send you to bed." This was a quietus. Children have a natural aversion to going to bed, especially if anything unusual is going on. Arthur and Mary subsided at once; being the youngest they knew they were in the greatest danger of banishment. The old porch vas neglected now, for the even- ings had grown so chilly. A cheerful fire blazed on the hearth in the sitting-room, and sent a ruddy glow over.the' white walls and simple furniture. A little round stand was in the middle of the room, on which burned two tallow candles. Mrs. Win- throp and Annie had honored the occasion by "only knitting to-night." There was so muchto say they wanted to give their whole attention. Deacon Winthrop sat in his armed-chair in the corner revealing, even by the "fitful fire-light,"' a face on, which was written, in well defined expres- sion, "Godliness with contentment is great gain." Ernest sat opposite him with little Mary on his lap. Grace's face was lowing with animation as she repeated incident after incident of her visit. Ar- thur sat on a low ench at her side. Henry leaned over the back of her chair and played with her curls, expressing thus his caressing gladness at her return; while Charles, a step.higher in the scale of boyhood, sat demurely in his chair quietly di- viding- his attention between .Grace's story and Ernest's new clothes. It was a beautiful picture, over and around which the light of home love was laying. Into just such settings as this God often puts His I fi k F a in i f m ti in flu fo m w fu m B tl m sa w FIFTY YEARS AGO. I0I T nest jewels, polishing them by a discipline all un- own to the outward world, until they so reflect is' image that He takes them wh-ere they "shine S the stars forever and ever.' The clock in, the .corner tolled out the hour of ie -a limit almost unknown to the younger embers of the family "Ernest, you may read e one hundred and third Psalm," said Deacon inthrop. Ernest took Annie's chair by the stand and read a clear, reverent voice the inspired -words,' so ted to convey the grateful emotions of the soul r continued mercies. Especially did Deacon inthrop dwell on the words, "Bless the Lord, oh y soul, and forget not all His benefits." Even little Mary never forgot her father's prayer at night; it seemed to fold them all so tenderly thin the Saviour's arms, and though she did not lly comprehend, she did not wonder that her other's face was tear-wet when she kissed her od-night. And now the gr up, grown smaller, gathered arer the fire, and grew so interested talking and tening that two hours more passed without their owing it. "Eleven o'clock1" said Deacon Winthrop, rising, his ay do for Boston, but it will not do for eechfod, we have too many hungry mouths at e barn waiting for their breakfast to allow us to ake up for the lost time in the morning." "Only wait long enough, father, to hear mother y she is glad she let us go, and that she thinks e have behaved quite like grown-up folks." Hi fI l "il page: 102-103[View Page 102-103] 102 FIFTY YEARS AGO. "She must say it in a few minutes," said Deacon Winthrop, smiling. He had missed the bright face which beamed upon him so joyfully to-night. "I'm glad you knew enough to come back; so if mother is glad you went, all will be right." Yes, I'm glad; I let you go," said Mrs. Win- throp ; "it did seem a great undertaking ; but you have been and got safely back, and I'm sure we shall have reason- to be glad all winter. I should not have liked it if your uncle had. kept you all winter. I'm iot sure but I should have sent Ernest right back after you." or st f iis oS va el 1e 10 le ri p n ie b re tkx CHAPTER VIII. DOCTOR ALLERTON. MONG the first items of news which Annie communicated, was the arrival of a new doc- at Beechford. Old Doctor Stanhope had min- red long and faithfully. He was regarded as one he institutions of the place; but of late years strength had declined, and the fact that he must ner or later.give his duties into younger hands, growing more and more apparent. Nobody compelled to take the responsibility of inviting 'a one into the place. As long as Doctor Stan- e could ride out, he seemed a reliance. Sud- ly Doctor Allerton appeared in their midst, ging very reliable credentials from very re- ctable sources. He called on some of the lead- people of the town, and received from them suffi- nt e encouragement to decide him to take up his )de w th them for the present. He had procured oardi g place.in a good location, near the cen- of t e town, and, by the middle of November, ectel to establish himself in Beechford. How old is he ?" asked Ernest. Twenty-eight, I believe." Is he good looking ?" (103) ~II page: 104-105[View Page 104-105] FIFTY YEARS AG. FIFTY YEARS AGO. "He i s fine looking, and very social and gen- tlemanly, 57ou would never think of calling him handsome; 'but there is something about him wh ch attracts your attention and commands your respect. Father and mother liked him very much. By the way, Ernest, he proposed to father to take a class of young ladies and gentlemen for the winter. He said he, should probably have to wait for practice; and if Mrs. Lee would let him have an extra room, he could devote a couple of hours three evenings in each week to recitations, with the privilege of being professionally absent, if it should be neces- sary. Ordinary practice he could regulate so as not to interfere with these hours." "Capital !" said Ernest; "just the thing we want. I will call on Doctor Allerton this very evening." "But he will not be here in two weeks; so mod- erate your joy, young man," said Annie, with mock gravity. ."Well, then, I'll do what I can to get up a class when he gets here. I shall have time enough to study, these .long winter evenings. I have been wishing, of all things, for just this opportunity ; and it has come almost as unexpectedly as my new suit did. Hurrah for Dodtbr Allerton, say I! Be- hold me, his attached friend !" "hReally !" said Annie, ' you begin your rejoic- ings in good season. Yogi had'better wait and see where the scholars are coining'from." "No, I sha'n't wait. I m going to do allI can to help him find scholars, and if nobody else cares to study, I think I shall offer myself as a private pupil. I can't get sick, to induce him to stay ; but I'm , r ( 1 t I C'I 104 105 lad he has come ; we want somebody new to stit s up a little." " Suppose you should be disappointed in him ?" "From your account, I do not expect to be." A nie," said Grace,' " do you believe mother 'ill let me go? I want to go to school this winter, nd I m sure this will be an excellent opportunity. believe Julia Thorn, and Mary Ross, and all the irls will go." "Yes," said Ernest, "I'll answer for her. Mother lways approves of schools. So 'll put you down cholar number two, and leave ou to make the rrangements for getting there. ome, I'll go with ou to Julia Thorn's this evening, and get her name nd Charlie's." "The very thing I wanted you to do. I have carcely seen Julia since I came back, and I've got great deal to tell her." "But, remember, you go in my interests to- ight ;-first the school, and your talk afterwards." Ernest's efforts for the next few eenings were ond rfully successful. He had twenty names nough to form a fine clasa of really determined pint. Charlie and Julia Thorn Edward Nelson, nd ary Ross, were among the embers. Gr ce had obtained her mother's permission to join t e class. Mrs. Winthrop did not exactly like n evening school, but as the necessities of her son ould be met in no oth r way, sh made as few ob- ectio s as possible. here were fher good moth. rs w o objected to so much going out evenings, ut t e spirit of learning was broad, and hoW ould they withstand it ! ' ' *, C C 1 11 page: 106-107[View Page 106-107] io6 FIFTY YEARS AGO. For convenience, it was arranged that each young man, in his turn, should carry all the pupils in his neighborhood. They had yet to submit their plans to Doctor Allerton, and now his coming had grown to be very important. Doctor Allerton came at the appointed time, and was quite'surprised to find himself so anxiously expected and so warmly welcomed by Ernest Win- throp, Charles Thorn, and Edward Nelson, as a committee from the class to make arrangements for hearing their recitations. He met them very cor- dially, and after talking the subject over in its va- rious aspects, he invited. thenA to call with the whole number of proposed pupils the next evening. The evenings they mentioned would suit his con- venience. At present they interfered with none of his arrangements. It must be understood that he should be at liberty to attend to any unexpected call. The young men left, highly pleased with their interview, and quite enthusiastic over their plans for study. And now, a word about Doctor Allerton. He was, as Annie said, about twenty-eight years old, with a strong, well-developed physical frame. His eyes were deep hazel, and full of expression. There was something in them which made you involun- tarily feel that their owner looked beneath the sur- face and was forming an opinion of his own. His firm, well-set mouth expressed fixedness of purpose. He had fine natural talents, was gifted with a rare memory, which placed his knowledge of men and books at a ready and practical command. His manners were courteous, and his powers of conver- I FIFTY YEARS AGO. 107 tion unusually fine. He had studied faithfully, ad a natural love for his profession, and a hopeful ispos tion to inspire his efforts: All ready to work! ut" there .should he go ?" had been a difficult uestion to solve. Cities and larger places were lled with toilers in his profession, and he had no ieans to support him in years of waiting. The oungest of a large family, he had been tenderly sared by a widowed mother, and received from er such lessons of wisdom, that his heart was filled rith high purposes and, earnest desires for useful- ess. "Do not be ambitious about place, my son," te had said to.him, when he was filled with anx- ity a out his field for labor. "Fird something to o, and do it well. Then leave the results with rod. Honor him, and he will honor you enough r your earthly needs." His uncle, whom he had onsulted, and who was himself a physician of high andi g, had recommended his present location. Bee hford is a quiet town," said he, "possessing reat natural beauty. The people are staid and itelligent. I think you will find strong elements f growth among them. You will not want for lateri l on which to exercise your knowledge and kill, for disease reveals itself as surely in the coun- ry as in the city. A well stored mind, capable of ringi g its power to bear upon the occasion, is at ome, and in its place, be that place city or coun- ry." So, taking his letters of introduction, he had ome to Beechford to meet with as cordial a re. eption as any stranger could, expect. The plan of °achi g had suggested itself as'accomplishing a iree- old purpose. It would be a slight foothold fig I page: 108-109[View Page 108-109] 1o8 .FIFTY YEARS AGO. in the way of certain occupations. It would him into closer acquaintance with the young ple, and it would open a way of usefulness i parting instruction to others. Of course, it cheering to find himself so pleasantly expe when, with his few worldly effects, one chilly vember day, he returned to take up his abo Beechford. The leaves of his diary that night reveal a tion of his thoughts, as he sits by his rather 1 fireside. ring pe(- a ini- was cted, No- de at por- onely. "BEECHFORD, November, 18- "LAUNCHED AT LAST !-A choice row of. b with the promise of an. addition to the stock Uncle Benjamin, medicines arranged like an ap cary. This is my office, and I am Doctor A ton ! Once I should have thought the picture plete, but to-night I am looking at Dr. Aller life work, books and medicines fall back as a aries, and the man with his power to use comes forth. Am I equal to the task. I! H Allerton! whom I have known as a fun-loving An irresponsible youth, and of late years a h close student, have come to be Dr. Allerton seeker for high trust in a profession which call all the tenderest, noblest powers of man. equal to -this ? ' Thou shalt guide me with counsel.' There, remembering that, Dr. Alle may go forward.' Oh-! mother, mother! when pointed out that text, did you know it would c to your boy'in some dark hour like a steady beam, and make him strong to labor? How strip I should have thought of it just at this momei books, from Athe.- ller- com-- ton's uxili- :hem hugh boy. lard, ! A out Lm .T thy rton you ome sun-- nge nt, it a ] nswe me wi book d do n brton FIFTY YEARS AGO. 109 rs all my sudden fears. 'Thou shalt guide h thy counsel!' I will write it in my day. nd ledger. I am glad it came to me to-night. ot think I shall ever forget it. ith such a guide and counsellor, Doctor Al- take up thy life work and go forward." On the appointed evening, the young physician received the proposed members of his class in-Mrs. Lee's pleasant sitting-room. His easy, happy man- ner did much towards overcoming the stiffness of the occasion. He made his inquiries of each one so quietly, and drew them out so unconsciously, that the reserve gradually wore away, and he was enabled to get some definite idea of the plan of study best adapted to their wants. He arranged for as few classes as possible, made suggestions as they occurred to him, and formed a general plan subject to such improvements as his better knowl- edge of their needs would enable him to adopt. As he knew better than they where, and how: to buy books, it was proposed that he should furnish them. This would cause some delay, and as Thanks- giving was not far off, he suggested that they should wait until its festivities were passed before they entered upon their winter's work. Thi4 met with a cordial response from them all. And thus their first meeting passed pleasantly away. They were pleased with Doctor Allerton, pleased with the new arrangements, and pleased with each other. Annge Winthrop had a fondness for study, and would gladly have availed herself of'this oppor- l r' I a IU page: 110-111[View Page 110-111] tunity, but too many household cares dev upon her to make such a thing practicable. encouraged Grace's going,'. aid waited anxi to hear her first impressions of the underta "Come, tell us all about it," said she, as so Grace drew her chair up to the fire. "I was half frightened to death when said 'this is my sister Grace, Doctor Allerton, I remembered that 'sister Grace' had come t her lesson to him. I don't think I could hav him my own name,.but he did not seem to n it, and after awhile I felt less strange, and b time he was ready to ask me a few questions, quite composed. He is a gentleman, but I think I should ever dare look off of my b minute in his school-room. The girls we frightened, but now they think they shall it." Annie laughed, and asked Ernest how lon thought Grace would remain so awe-struck keep her ey s in one place a whole evening. "Not lon ," said Ernest, "but the girls all as if they were going through some wonderfi deal. I think Doctor Allerton showed a great of what mother calls 'tact,' or we should hay a quaker eeting. I wondered what had over them." "Well, Ernest, you may laugh at us, but w dreadfully. When we get started, and know we are about, we will give you a chance to ke with us." "No doubt of that, we have some faint idea certain lady's ability when she starts off." lved She usly king. n as rnest ' and say told otice the was don't ok a e all njoy g he as to cted l or- deal had come e felt what p up -of a "1How about the singing - school," said Annie; "it will not do to give that up. Edward Nelson proposes we shall ineet Saturday afternoons, then he and Ernest can attend." "A wonderful age, truly !" said Mrs. Winthrop. "The days and nights together are not long enough to accomplish all t e young folks. have to Flo. I am not quite sure how I am going to like this evening-school." "You should hea Ernest and Charlie Thorn talk, mother. They say such an opportunity may not occur for any o us again, and now they have arranged it so that Ernest will only have to-drive once a week. Ther are six of us to go from this. way, and we are always to go together. I believe all the mothers are satisfied about the way their children are to go, sb many going together makes it less trouble for eabh one, and it will bring us all there about the same time." "Why don't you add and give us so much fun going ?" said Annie. "Of course mother knows I don't care about that part of it," said Grace, demurely. Mrs. Winthrop only said, " I'll 'wait and see how much you really learn before pass my judg- ment." I! 110 FIFTY YEARS AGO. III i " :iCC . 1 ^3 f R w JI r' ;1 S# d. FTF V AGO. page: 112-113[View Page 112-113] CHAPTER THANKSGIVING. A S Th anksgiving approached every b occupied getting ready for it, and winter which its coming foretold. Charles and Henry were helping their Ernest was busy doing up 'nameless .ne things, driving a nail here, and fastening u and loose.places where the cold mu ist not c Deacon Winthrop was a tidy man, and l see everything about his farm in good order barn door never stood open when i should his gates were never swingipg off their hin horses and cows had warm stables and p1 eat. "It is just 'as important to have goo at the barh, as it is in the house,' he woul his boys. "If. your mother could never dishes we should have to wait a great something to eat ; hungry folks a're somet natured, and so are hungry animals. If y kind aninials in your barn-yard, don't ke waiting t o long for their breakfast while about looking up lost things." So "a pace for everything, and verythi place," wys a'lesson the Winthrop boys dy was for the father, cessary p doors ome in. ved to r. His e shut, ges, his enty to order say to ind her while for mes ill- u want p them you go g in its learned K Y jd r N f b +t i pretty thoroughly. to " wish father wvou ting up bars, when t to--:norrow and. put especially~ if they w~ a bother to have' rake, or the shovel next time they wa easy to drop them, sensibly, however, ed on, ways of their mother strengthened ample until notwi- habits of neatness be the "Winthrop boy After Thanksgivi go to school to Er menced with the sc .help had completed brothers. The woc Aunt Lois had spu cloth at the clothi for the convenience on the little stream had a bright, new same, way. " It isn't a suit ap as she carried it' triu it was finished; " b clothes as much as "Who will sew f us, unless you'try t "She told me l It was a great relief to' them Id n't be so particular about put- Ley must go through them again them all down again." Then, ere in a hurry, it seemed such. :o stop and set the hoe, or the up where it could be found the ated it. It was so natural and and run to the next thing. In- the oft-repeated, patiently insist- father grew upon them. Their d them by her counsel and ex- ;hstanding their many failures, gan to be evident belongings of s." rg, Charles and Henry were to nest. Arthur, and Mary com- hool. Annie, with Aunt Lois's three new suits for her young 1 had grown on their own farm. n it, and it had been made into r's, an establishment fitted up of the farmers of Beechford, not far from the church. Mary flannel dress obtained in the iece for the boys," said Grace, tmphantly to her mother when ut then you know Mary needs they do, and I can make hers." or the boys when Annie leaves o learn ?" st night she was not going in " j I I FIFTY YEARS AGO." iii I X.- page: 114-115[View Page 114-115] two years; and, by that time,isomebody will them suits jlst as uncle did Ernest." "Easy said. You have done very ell, ho in making this dress. Mary vill b nicely for the winter, and I am pleased with the effo have made to help me." Doctor Allerton improved. his time by c on all of his, proposed pupils, and becoming acquainted \ith them. He was very much pl with Ernest Winthrop. He found him thi for instruction, and anticipated pleasure i companionship. Ernest had spent two evenings at his office given.him some insight into his silehtly-che future plans Doctor A lerton had also spent one eveni Deacon Winthrop's, where he mad himself agi-eeable by his intelligent conversation and ing address. Grace sewed assiduously the evening, only now and then stoppin to ans question- he put. directly to her. e seem old and stately, compared with Ernest, C Thorn and Edward Nelson -hr and Thorn's particular friends. She thought he properly belonged to her father and other Uncle Henry. Doctorspiturally were oldi estimation. Doctor Stanhope was and a had been, far anything she had see to the trary ; and, of course, Doctor Allerton ou be; and she was sure he seemed o, hew grave and dignified. After he had gone, Deacon Wint, rop sai think we ha4l better ask Doctor Allerton to give ever, fixed t you calling better eased sting nhis , and ished ng at very pleas- whole wer a ed so harlie Julia more r hei n he'r ways con- ht to as so FIFTY YEARS AGO. I " I come II4 x h us.Thanksgiving-day ; he is miss his home." aid Grace, dropping her work ghly interested, "please don't ng, it will spoil all my pleas- - "Why, Grace !" said Ernest, in astonishment, "I thought you like Doctor Allerton." " So I do, in his way. But he is so old and wise. I want to 1ugh and be happy over my Thanksgiving-dinner, and I shall feel as .solemn as I used to at uncle's able if he come"." " It would be a pity to make you 4#ela'ncholy on Thanksgiving -day," said Annie. \ I shall not know the occasion f I see you sitting grave and silent, and I doubt i even 'wise old Doctor Aller- ton' can make you act uch a part." "I don't care. I don't want him to come. Do you, mother ?" "Let'it go, daughter," said Deacon Winthrop. "Mother will not miss him, and you may lahigh as much as you like. I suppose you do not object to your grandfather, grandmother and Uncle Henry on account of their age." " Oh! no, indeed! They are part of my Thanks- giving. I should miss them very much. Or if Annie wants a certain Mr. Ross, I shall not mind hirn." Annie blushingly told her that she should be able to enjoy her Thankskiving dinner with grand- father, grandmother and Uncle Henry for company just as well as she should ; so she need not invite anybody on her account. \ t o . ' i'f } i . T'fi i i FIFTY YEARS AGO.RS AGO. and take dinner wit a stranger, and will. "Now, father !" s and looking thorou think of such a thi ure !' 115 page: 116-117[View Page 116-117] Y I6 FIFTY YEARS AGO. Thanksgiving morning dawned one of the 1 est, cheeriest of the whole month. There w keenness enough in the air to make it exhil and send the blood tingling through the vei parting -a glowing life, which made itself f4 a blessed possession. Aunt Nannie and Aunt Lois were always of the Winthrop's on Thanksgiving -day.. usually rode' to, church with them aind cam4 to dinner, but to-day Aunt Lois insisted upo ing at home to help "Mis' Winthrop." "I reckon I can fix potatoes and turnips equal to any body. Let Annie and Grace b( to meeting, and I'll look after things while th gone." To "look after things" meant a great deal Aunt Lois said it. Annie and Grace kn well what an extensive ground it covered they felt that their places would be well sup so they weje soon ready to go with the rest family to church. ,The boys wore their new nut-colored suits and Mary her right, dress. The sermon was sound and excellent, but scarcely appreciated by the younger meml the congregation, their thoughts were so oc with sundry things at home. If Grace, for meant, felt t at she had been selfish in not w Doctor Allerton to share in their leasant dinner, she was relieved when Julia horn tc that he was invited to dine with their good] Mr. *ilson. And now they are at home again. right. s just rating s, im- lt like guests They back stay- about th go ey are when ew so that plied; of the butter- fannel it was ers of cupied a mo- ishing family )ld her pastor, it FIFTY YEARS AGO. "7 Aunt Lois had lighted the wood which. Ernest had laid in the fire-place in the "spare room." It glowed and sparkled, and sent up fantastic flames, and looked cheery enough to wake up a spirit of thankfulness in anybody's heart. The old mirror opposite reflected its glow, and seemed to kindle and keep up just such a fire, on its side of the room; even the cherry tables tried to twinkle with little fires all over their polished sur- faces. In the sitting-room, the bright blaze leaped out between the great sticks cf walnut-wood, then suddenly disappeared, and soon revealeditself in a broad, enveloping sheet, sending out such waves of genial warmth that they pervaded every corner of the room. The door between the two rooms was open, and everything wore a festal look, which the fires seemed to vie with eachother in keeping up. Modern furnaces warm as well, but they haye no language, they are dull, gloomy, uninviting companions, only tolerated because they are so convenient. When the dear, old -fashioned fire- light went. out, a charming household spirit went with it. That spirit was at the old mansion to-day working faithfully, and well did it succeed. The dinner-table was always in the sitting-room on Thanksgiving-day. -This was left for Grace to arrange-only Grace could produce such an effect with such limited means. Every choice 5lish the house afforded was pressed into service, and with the ground-pine, "Everlasting," and bitter-sweet berries, which she and Aunt Lois had- collected, the table was prettily adorned. There were bunches of ground-pine, dotted witi everlasting, I, 4 i page: 118-119[View Page 118-119] FIFTY YEARS AGO. . I19 and grounc pine sparkling with bri on the mantel-shelves in both room charm of simple beauty to the occa After a while, grandfather, gra Uncle Henry came,. and they were they were great people, come to Grandmother wore a black silk dres silk handkerchief folded over her s broad, white cap -strings, and neat in her neck, made her look like just grandmother she really was. Grace cap very dainty and neat for the occ father was ale and hearty, though passed, his three-score-and-ten year took the arrned-chair by the fire in t and held out his hands, and warme cheerful blkze, he was a beautiful illu "hoary head," with "its crown of g the ' way of righteousness." Mrs. Wi throp only came to th come her parents and brother, her just then necessary in the kitchen, were coming to a climax. It was ti door of the big, brick oven; out fr ous depths came a huge turkey, roast right brown; a pair of ducks, a mam pie, a piece of beep, and a tender ye ing as if he had been suddenly c turned brown by some magical powe pudding, baked to just the right con a farewell bubble as it followed its panions ou to the feast. On a si pumpkin, apple and mince pies. Au ht, red berries s, adding their ion. mother and welcomed as if a great feast. s, with a black. oulders.. Her cambric ruffle the dear, good had made her asion. Grand- he had already s. And as he he spare room, them by the stration of the ory" found in door to wel presence being where matters e to open the im its cavern- ted to just the moth chicken ung pig, look- aught up and r. An Indian sistency, gave smoking com- e table were nt Lois' veget- ables were prepared and waiting on the warm stone hearth by the kitchen fire. While: Annie and Grace transferred these things to the table, Mrs. Winthrop disappeared to.add a few touches to her holiday dress. Then the family, fourteen in all, gathered round the table. Grandfather always asked the blessing on Thanksgiving-days. The .family stood instead of sitting while he said grace in his own peculiar patriarchal way. The clatter of knives, forks and plates announced that the feast had begun. Every- thing was goo1, and enjoyed to its fullest extent. Love presided, giving to grandfather's laugh a merry ring, and to grandmother's faded face and silvery hair a quiet beauty; it touched father, mother and Uncle Henry with smooth "erasing fingers,", making the care lines almost invisible. It revealed itself to Annie, Ernest and Grace in bows of golden promise, and into the children's hearts it poured floods of undefined happiness over which no shadow rested ; it whispered gently to Aunt Nannie and Aunt Lois that past trials were only seeds of quiet joy ripening in their autumn years, and enduring enough to afford them shelter as far into life's winter as they should need. .Oh ! this beautiful home-love ! sanctified by the love of God is a wonderful inheritance; hw" in after years it fills the soul with its blessed memo- ries, helping us shake off the dust and toil of life. How in scenes of doubt and conflict, of weakness and failing, it comes like a strong, bracing power, leading us onward with renewed courage and hope. How we cherish, with an ever increasing 'Y-- 1 118 FIFTY YEARS AGO. , ; nt J ~+e .: i ' i .i _ ' ' ' 'S b . r4 page: 120-121[View Page 120-121] 120 FIFTY YEARS AGO. regard, the father and mother wh:, with God's blessing, mde for us such a starting point in, life, and whose influence over us can never end. Mrs. Wiinthrop realized it as her eye rested fond- ly on the faces of her father and mother. She felt that in the home where she was mother, her moth- er's life work was carried on, and that her father's wisdom and counsel had made her stronger for the right. Ernest in his new suit was the perfect admira- tion of his brothers, while Annie and Grace in their bright ribbons, looked more than beautiful to them. Mary expressed her views particularly to her confidant Arthur, and taking it altogether was one of the most satisfied little beings that day's Thanksgiv ng sun shone upon. "Don't you feel sorry, Grace, that you would not let Doctor Allerton have a taste of this good dinner?". hispered Ernest, as h sat next his sister. "No! hy should I. Mr. Wilson took him home with him, besides, if we had any company, I should rather have Julia and Charli Thorn." Doctor Allerton's con ing was fully discussed by the older members of the family, an was approved of by all. Doctor. Stanhope had received him kindly, and expressed himself as eling relieved from a heavy burden by his coming. He had re-. ceived no professional calls as yet, but he had only been there two weeks, and it was a time of unusual health. Grand other did not know about the evening- school. ay-time seemed best to her for such t r~ el Y FIFTY YEARS AGO. 121 things, still she wanted Ernest to attend it, and that rather modified her views. When dinner was over, Aunt Lois.said, "Now, Mis' Winthrop, fou go right in the other room, and see 'your folks,( Nannie and I don't want you 'round. Annie and Grace may clear off the table and put things to rights in this room, and then we don't want any more of them." Mrs. Winthrop hesitated,. but Aunt Lois again assured her that she would "look after things," which in this case meant put all the broken pieces and right slices into the baskets waiting to. receive them when their poor owners came for them .before dark. Aunt' Lois knew the li~t of Mrs. Winthrop's "poor folks," and Mrs. Winhrop knew her kindness and judgment were equal te the occasion, so she went in with her father, mother, and husband, to chat by the glowing fire in the spare room. The children were in and out, some- times bringing wood to heap on the fire, then a pan of walnuts which they had cracked for even- ing, to see if here was enough, and then a basket of rosy - cheeked apples, to see if they were the right kind, until' the daylight began to fade, and grandfather and grandmother mu t go home be- fore it was gone, Then evening came, the fires sent up fresh glows, and reddened the white walls, and looked as cheery as the children felt: Grace brought extra candles, and drew up the chairs for Aunt Nannie and Aunt Lois where her grandfather and grandmother had .sat. Aunt Nannie thot ght they had better go home before dark, but thechildre all wanted them 6 page: 122-123[View Page 122-123] FIFTY YEARS AGO. to stay, and Charles promised them when they got tired. V and Mary Ross, Charlie and Jul ward Nelson came. They had g the children joined, even Uncle caught bout ten times, consent and be blinded. Then how the for once he caught the top of A crowned cap, as she sat quietly i came n ar pulling it off. He k so high hat every body dodged once when he made a desperate somebocjy, it proved to be onl across the room to snuff the can Henry ! he thought he never blinds, until at last he'stumbled a had stopped to reply to some que Ross, andK then there was a merry Henry declared he would n't b if they caught him twenty tim the cake, and walnuts, and app pies appeared. The children he and were as merry as children this they had a few more games, sang some good old hymnswhi loved, anld in which she could joi throp never said much on such not his fray, but his face smiled very presence was a comfort. in the corner struck nine, he sai prayers, children, and then you ish up the evening as you like." Reverently they all knelt, fail FIFTY YEARS AGO. o go home with ry soon Sandford a Thorn, and Ed-' ames in which all enry, after beir d to "play fi children lauglh unt Nannie's high the corner, and ept his arms up under them, and ive and captured mother, going les. Poor Uncle ould get off his against Annie who stion of Sandford shout, and Uncle e blindman again es. By and by es, and pumpkin lped every body, could be. After and then they all h Mrs. Winthrop n. Deacon Win- occasions, it was all over, and his hen the 1 clock 1: "We will have lder ones can fin- y and guests, that I 1 4 t: evening prayer was no intru ry circle. It never throws a g the gladness of our hearts 'or their kindness to us. omy to thank the dearest,' reakable gifts, so far ex At far-reaching thoughts ents ? 123 sion, chilfng the mer- loom over us when in we thank our parents Why should it seem best of friends, for his feeding the tenderest, of our earthly par- And now, when two hours later, the sounds of voices have all died out, and only the smouldering embers warm the deserted hearth-stones, think you, dear reader, that the influence of the day is done ? Oh, no, for a beautiful, golden link has been forged, which time will brighten t until .it reappears the centre of other golden link in the household of these children. And thus w leave them this glad Thanksgiving - night; with he blessed assurance that "a little that a righteous man hath, is better than the riches of many wicked." The rest of the week was a continued holiday. The contents of the big oven were expected to last over, Sunday. Deacon and Mrs. Winthrop and the younger children-went to grandfather's to din- ner on Friday. Mrs. Ross claimed Annie. Ernest and Grace were invited to the Thorn's. And Aunt Nannie and Lois partook of a nice dinner at their own round table, and told each other stories of their own childhood'and youth. Saturday was full of doing last things, to be ready for the im- portant Monday, and so the week was gone. 1* F' r. j a T22 page: 124-125[View Page 124-125] CHAPTER X- RECITATIONS. M[ONDAY was an important d ..LVInot need a second call to r nobody in that house could afford t light. Breakfast was at seven. three younger children were off for season. Grace assisted her mothe the duties of the day until her part ed; then she found time to expre which had kept coming all the mor "It is really a great undertaken and recite to Doctor Allerton. I a mean I do not believe I shall be, b next week-and the beginning was o "You will'get along well enoug conquered greater difficulties in yo ton than you will find in all the b lerton will give you." "There is one thing you will see. be very systematic-don't smile, A much sevking and these lessons to 14 accomplish anything unless I am? will learn my lessons, or I will not at them; and after succeeding so well FIFTY YEARS AGO. t fly 2 ly1 R a r it r vi f; K q -Q4 . F {L +j 7 t 1C R r r 1- 1 r y.. Grace did mind her that ) wait for day- rnest and the school in good and Annie in as accomplish- s the thoughts ing. gAnnie, to go not sorry, or I .t I wish it was. Ter.",. i. I think you ur visit to Bos- oks Doctor Al- I am going to, nie ! With so arn, how can I You know I tempt to recite in making Ma- ry's flannel dress, I am going to make her new one and mine and yours and mother's too, if she will let me. I shall be seventeen nekt week, and it is quite ,time I should be doing something. to show mother that I am growing more like you. 'Not by trying to outshine you and Aunt Lois in sewing for the boys-don't suspect me of that; but I can be useful in other ways. .I know mother needs all our help, and that she is very kind to let me study this win- ter." Annie smiled at Grace's earnestness; it seemed as if she had grown suddenly thoughtful: She had always been efficient, but had not yet learned to bring this efficiency to uniform action. Now she must have a definite time for study. If it was only summer-time, and she could sit in the window where she spun the flax,. she could secure plenty of quiet. One thing she could do. Aunt. Nannie always had a good fire. and a quiet corner; here she could retreat at any time and be always wel- come with only the buzz of the spinning-wheel to interrupt her. Aunt Nannie'was rather doubtful about the wisdom of going to school evenings; but Ernest and Grace had got.it into their heads to go, and she supposed there would be no stopping them. So it was settled that Grace's chairshould always be ready ii the corner fot cher whenever she chose to take it. It was Ernest who was to take the neighborhood circle the first evening. Deacon Winthrop wished to aid him as much as possible, so he harnessed Fearnaught and Casar before their big wagon. It was made to hold six and could. accommodate I25 page: 126-127[View Page 126-127] T+ "I Q 1. 1 i I f .i i i t a ' °I ti a . 3 126 FIFTY YEARS AGO. eight. The early tea was ready ; and. then with father to help them off, the three boys leaning over the fence to watch them, and mother, Annie and Mary looking out of the window, he drove off. Grace's heart beat faster than it id when they started for Boston. She actually felt more per- sonal responsibility. They found the four belong- ing to theirkcompany waiting to coe out, and punctually at seven o'clock they, were seated in Mrs. Lee's pleasant sitting-room. The whole twen- ty were there. Doctor Allerton et them with an ease and cordiality which made them feel that he was glad to see them. He had purchased the books; and after these were talked over, he pro- ceeded to arrange the classes, and in a familiar, conversations way give various suggestions about studying. Their work was so. laid out that on Wednesday evening they could begi in earnest. It was soon "next week," and he beginning over, and then the skillfully-conducted classes moved smoothly on with a steadily-growing inter- est in their work. Doctor Allerton. as an excel- lent instructor, and was fast gaining their respect. He was beginning to be occupied professionally too. His first case was one of surgery, which he attended so successfully that it aforded him a pleasant introduction to others. He had a case or two of fever. The various pains an aches which come and go wherever man abides, aimed his at. tention enough to -make quite an important ent y on his day-book. Occasionally he was absent from his evening circle; then Ernest, at his and t-he pu- pils' request, presided. t SOLI} i', rat } c pa l F y t =y r It was a winter long remembered by the young people of Beechford. They had all varieties of wind and weather ; but as no one had to be driver all of the time, they did not mind it in their turns. Sometimes when the sleighing was fine, and the moon brought out the glorious frost-work in forms of unspeakable beauty, we will not call them un- scholarly if there *as some changing of seats, and the ride home was a few miles longer than usual. Once, on such an evening, Doctor Allerton's sleigh was standing at the door when they all came out. He had some calls to make, and as he stood wait- ing to see them off, Ernest playfully said, "Your sleigh looks lonely, Doctor Allerton." "I was just thinking so; perhaps you will lend me a little cheer from yours. Miss Grace, I think your brother will not accuse me of trespassing if I ask you to change your seat in his sleigh for one in mine." The, proposition was so unexpected that Grace hardly took it in before the doctor was extending his hand to assist her out from the comfortable seat where she was stowed away between Julia Thorn and Edward Nelson. She knew the girls were smiling at her discomfiture. A tete-a-tete ride with Doctor Allerton in exchange-for the capital time she was going to have with her boon companions ! He inspired her with respect. She always admired him when he conversed with others; but if he ad dressed her particularly, she usually answered him in monosyllables, without any attempt to .prolong the conversation. Now here she was actually rid- ing alone with him. She hoped Ernest would go FIFTY YEARS AGO. 127 1 1 11 page: 128-129[View Page 128-129] 128 FIFTY YEARS AGO. home the shortest way, but instead.of that he turn. ed the corner for a half hour's longer ride, and Doctor Allerton turned the corner too. "Will not this detain you from your patient, Doctor Allerton ?" asked Grace. " Oh ! no, I have plenty of time ; besides, 'I must see your brother safe home." Happily the doctor asked her some questions about her visit at Boston; this put her quite at her ease, and before she knew it she was talking and he was listening. They were just behind Ernest when he stopped to leave his first way passengers. Doctor Allerton passed him with a cheerful good- night, and reached Deacon Winthrop's just in ad- vance of him. Will you go in ?" said Grace, rather doubtfully, as he held open the gate for her. "Not-tonght, thank you ;" and he drove away leaving her standing in the porch waiting for Er. nest to come up. After the horses were disposed of, Ernest joined his sisters by the warm fire in the sitting-room. Grace had been telling Annie of their evening les- sons, but said nothing of her ride home. Ernest looked very smiling as he poked the fire and drew the brands closer together, and then he asked. Grace how she liked the teacher out of school. "Only think of it, Annie !" said he, "Grace ac- tually rode home with so 'old and wise' a man as Doctor Allerton." " Is it possible !" said Annie, "how did that hap-. pen?" ' " Why, Ernest, of course, had something to do 4 FIFTY YEARS AGO. 129 with it; he expressed so much sympathy for Doc- tor Allertonrs loneliness that he offered to take me home, to show him how much he appreciated it." "Well, Grace, a man must have something be- sides books and medicine, scholars and sick folks. I don't knoW but Mrs. Allerton elect writes to him every day, but he did look lonely to-night ; of course I did not think of his asking you to ride with him. You always look so demure when he is around, I s would not think he would expect much cheer from ou. Did you discourse on the benefit of pills and powders ?" "Ernest, you are too bad; we did not talk about medicine og, books either. I always imagined he was bound up in both. Come to think of it, I be-- lieve I did most of the talking; but what did the girls say to my sudden leave-taking?" "Julia laughed heartily, but I don't believe Ned Thorn liked it quite so well;.it took a good deal of the fun out of him, On the front seat we got along very nicely without you; only I kept think- .ing what a colding I should get when I got home for my innocent share in the matter; but if Doctor Allerton only got you to talking, yoU enjoyed it, I know." "Is Doctor AllertQn engaged ?" asked Annie. "You spoke of Mrs. Allerton elect." "I never heard a word about it. I only sup- posed he might be, -sensible men usually. are.- Sandford Ross, for instance; but I am growing very sleepy, and if this fire will do to cover up, I think we had all better go to bed." " I promised mother that I would look after the. page: 130-131[View Page 130-131] 130 FIFTY YEARS AGO. fire," said Annie; ".so you can go to bed as soon as you like." There was little time for idleness that whole win- ter in the Winthrop household. Except to spend a day with her grandmother. once a week, Grace rarely went out. Her books, her household duties, and her needle, kept her constantly busy. Meet- ing the young circle to which she belonged three, evenings in a week, and in their rides to and from Mrs. Lee's, she found no lack of social pleasures. She could always secure a quiet hour at Aunt Nannie's fireside, when the busy sounds of home were likely to trespass too. far on her attention. Sometimes Aunt Lois would forget that "the child" could not study and talk at the same time, 'but after awhile she held the .study hour quite sa- cred, and kept all of her thoughts and questions to herself, until it was over. One morning, in February, Grace had taken her books and her sewing and started to spend the day with her grandmother. The clear, bracing air, and the smooth, well-trodden snow made the walk- ing very agreeable. She felt just like enjoying it. The hills, and the trees, and the white-robed earth never appeared to her n ore grandly beautiful than on this winter morning. Out from her full heart came the thought of whata beautiful world this is, and how much there is in it to make one very glad. She had been so absorbed in her own re-'. flections that she had not even heard the sound of sleigh-bells. The pleasant voice of Doctor Aller- ton aroused her with a " Good morning, Miss Grace." FIFTY YEARS AGO. 131 ",Why, Doctor Allerton! I did. not hear your bells." "I though t not," said he: " or else you intended to make me tipset in this bank, in turning out for you. I dro quite slowly before knew who it was, hoping should get my share of the road, at least. You must allow me to keep you out of dan- ger the res tof the way,"said he, stepping out of. his sleigh a offering to help her in. Grace th riked him. She did not care to ride. She was only going to grandmother's, and needed the exercise 6f walking. "You can take that to-morrow," said he, still holding out is hand to assist her. Grace took it, and allowed im to seat her in his sleigh, wishing in her heart hat she had walked 'faster and turned the corner, little way beyond, before he overtook her. Doctor lerton had just come from the bed- side of a p r suffering man, one whose "bed of languishing' had no divine support. He had been full of sad thoughts; and when that bright, glow- ing face looked upon him so suddenly, he felt that it was like carrying a sunbeam. To have it in his sleigh for a little time would brighten the whole .day. He hJ quickly discovered that Grace Win- throp. wasn ordinary girl. Her recitations were excellent. 'he comprehended things easily, and was in her class, as everywhere else, a leading spirit, yet she never seemed to know it. She was so unselfish, 1oo ; the happiness of others was a&p$'r of her happy ness. Her ready, appreciating syii pathy seem :dto come so naturally, and, in' just the. - page: 132-133[View Page 132-133] .132 FIFTY YEARS AGO. right place. Her laugh was full of merriment. Nothing escaped her quick perceptive faculties. Doctor Allerton had observed her easy flow of conversation with her companions, and had been highly entertained at her remarks, when he was not directly listening. To him she was always re- served. If he called at her father's house, she seemed to consider him as belonging to the elder members of the family. The evening she rode home with him from Mrs. Lee's was the first time she ever really talked with him. His skill in-the selection of a subject had drawn her out very suc- cessfully, Since then her bow and smile had been more kindly, but it was always as if their pathways were in different directions. He had an instinctive idea that if Charlie Thorn or Edward Nelson had overtaken her this morning, she would have bound- ed into either of their sleighs, almost without an invitation, and chatted gayly the whole way. 'Why did she take his offered seat so reluctantly? "You seem to be a combination of occupations," said he. "Books and work-baskets are both rep- resented." " Oh, yes," said she; "time is very precious now. I must work when I visit, or else not visit at all. Cousin Laura asked me if w e did not get. very dull in the country, especially in winter. I think if she could see how this.winter is passing,. she woild ask how we got along with so little timee" "Do you find your studies irksome ?" "Not in the least. - I enjoy them very much." " I am glad to hear you say so. The evening y r, a t x i E " ;f 7 t 1T Y q 7 r X t(( .F t - f t i 3 f k FIFTY YEARS AGO. 133 hours with iy class are very pl asant to me. I am afraid I fight get dull, as y ur Cousin Laura expresses it, if I did not meet so many cheerful faces." "Don't you like the country ?" "Yes ; butthis beginning life among;strangers, with all the anxieties attending my profession, is often depressing. I have been to see a patient this morning who ought to be better, but he is not; he need a little of your cheerful spirit to tone up his system." Grace looked up astonished. Here was Doctor Allerton talk ng to her j st as Ernest would have done. He was not all hooks and medicine'then ! and he was lonesome and discouraged sometimes just like other people. She had never thoughtyif him in this light before, and a touch of something, akin to symp thy filled her heart for him It wvas not exactly lke riding with Doctor Stanhope, after all,and her manner was more free and cordialtlhan it had ever been before with him. He left her at her grandfather's. The cheerfTul old man was standing at his gate as they drove up. He saluted the doctor very cordially, and expressed his satisfaction that he had so much to do. Doc- tor Allerton declined his invitation to go in, and drove ~away, cheered by the little interview he had had with Grace Winthrop. "Riding out with Doctor. Allerton, this fine morning, eh, Grage !" said her grandfather, as he poked the re and sent the sparks fl ing up the wide chimney. " He over ook me, grandfather, and asked me. !- page: 134-135[View Page 134-135] as FIFTY YEARS AGO. to ride; so I could not very well help it, you see." "Need n't help it, child ! it is alwaysbetter to ride than it is to walk, when you can just as well as not. Doctor Allerton is a young man of great promise, I think. Did you hear him say how Mr. Fleming is this morning ?" "Not any better, I believe." "I'm afraid he won't be, poor man. It's my opinion that his mind is more in fault than his body. He's very fretful, they say. It's a dreadful thing to be old, without an interest in Jesus Christ. I remember talking with Fleming some years ago. He told me there was plenty of time to look after another world when sickness and old age gave a person nothing else to do, and now he is finding out his great mistake. His great mistake !" said the old man, musingly; "his 'want has come like an armed man,' and there is nothing to supply it. 'Cast me not off in the time of old age, forsake me not when my strength faileth."' He held his hands to the blaze, and seemed lost in his own tl oughts. Old age had come upon him like a finishin. touch, mellowing his heart, and making him ready for the harvest. Grace looked at his time-worn face and thought there was something beautiful in its calm repose. Now she began telling her grandmother of the little home incidents ,she always loved to hear, until, warned by the clock, she gathered up her books. " I will study awhile," said she, untill it is time to help you get dinner, grandmother." " No, child, I can get dinner without you as well l 134 . rp tf V5 " Ya "C r"x 3'1 .FIFTY YEARS AGO. I' to-day as yesterday. Attend to your lessons, be+ fore anybody comes in to'interrupt you." So, in the. quiet of her grandmother's kitchen, she got possession of the remainder of her lesso s, and was ready for dinner ,and its after duti s. While her grandmother slept "just fifteen minute, and her grandfather dozed in his armed-chair, she sewed and thought over the lessons she had been learning. These quiet days were feasts to Grace. From her earliest childhood she had been often at her grandmother's; sometimes staying weeks at a time. As she grew older, she loved to listen to, the 4lsl lady's stories of her own childhood and youth. She almost fancied she was acquainted with 1he young people of her day. She knew all about her grandmother's two young sisters, who died of con- sumption, before they were twenty. years old. She sympathized in her loneliness after they were gone, and was always glad that she found such a dear, good companion as grandfather to cheer and com- fort her. Unconsciously this dear grandmother wove many an enduring truth into the woof of he young girl' life, which time brought out ith astonishing vividness. The fifteen minutes nap extended into half an hour, and then,'with er clean cap and apron, grandmother took her eat by the south window, and, with her knitting-sheath adjusted, was ready to give-the. bright needles a chance to work. "I'm getting behind with y knitting,". said she ; "the boys wear out their stockings so fast, that it will take us all to keep up with them. I don't know what your mother would page: 136-137[View Page 136-137] 136 FIFTY YEARS AGO. do, if she hadn't Nannie and Lois to ' wonderful to me how your mother does with all she has to do." " She is an uncommon smart woman," sa father, roused from his pleasant nap by t of his wife's voice, arid comprehending was speaking of "our Annie." " If you c as good a woman as your mother and grar Grace, I shall be satisfied." The short afternoon soon wore away set the table, while grandmother made the from a closet which was always mysterious with good things, brought out some extra to make the tea-table more tempting. Unc came in from a long business ride he 4 taking, cold but cheery, and soon joined the table. After tea, Grace walked to M As it was only a short distance, she was ample time. Doctor Allerton was very su in his mode of instruction. He would questions which called out expression' f pupils. This evening, he and Ernest hadc discussion, which prolonged the allotted l made them rather late in starting for hon the horses were fleet, and the bells rang c rily as they glided over- the smooth whi and Annie and a warm fire awaited their home. Grace had had a very pleasant day, SI pered its events to Annie in a low tone, s to disturb father and another, and then th ered up the bright coals deep in the ashes, household were soon all fast asleep. elp. It's get along e. id grand- he sound that she nly make dmother, Grace tea, and, sly filled a luxury le Henry ad been them at -s. Lee's. there in ggestive propose rom his quite a ime and le. But ut mer- le path, coming he whis- o as not ey cov- and the CHAPTER SUMMER DAYS. TpIME has a way of hastening on, carrying days, weeks and months along with it. Just as you think you are nicely settled for winter, the pro- gramme of spring is before you, and you must lay aside what for the moment seemed a permanent way of living and take up something iew. Before our friends were half ready for them, the blue birds came and told, in sweet warbling strains, that winter was over, and with-it Doctor Allerton's school. It was a regretful parting. for all of them; they had enjoyed it, and felt that it had done them all good. Doctor Allerton was regarded as a fixture now. He had treated his cases with skill, and had gained the confidence of all whohad employed- him. He took an active interest in church matters, and was regarded by Mr. Wilson as 4 great addi- tion to the town. He had become well acquainted with the young people. His cultivated mindhav- ing been brought to bear so directly upon them, gave him an influence which he hpped to use right. think mother was right," says the leaves of his private journal, into which we may now and (37) C I: X I. page: 138-139[View Page 138-139] then look. "It is not place one should s Noble, God-like occupation,- with God-i motives, dignifies any place. I try to k thought in sight. My student views were, the city, but I see I can be happy and use I might as well despise the springs from w mightiest rivers rise, as to turn away cd uously from this rare old country town. goodgold New England country towns ! t indeed, feed and sustain the moral and int growth of cities, and occupy, in their own positions, equal rights. It seems to me on life more. nobly, who has the beautiful h shadowy forest-trees, the bright rivers, broad, ever-changing skies for companion teachers. If I have found so much in the am sure the summer and my growing inte my new duties and friends, will sustain m io n . ' . From that spring-time, with all the en his strong will, Doctor Allerton set himselft out his life work in the quiet town of Beec No letters had come from Boston. But substantial proofs of their visit, Ernest and might have set it aside as a wonderfully p dream. They had only had time to talk it intervals, for the actual occupation .of ea had crowded out everything else. Ernest's school had closed, and-he was ag cupied with his father on the farm. Life a: tivity marked the opening season. As the mer time came on, Grace found more time iting with her young friends. She had been ek first. spiring eep this a life in Ful here. which the ntempt- These hey do, llectual relative fits for lls, the nd the ns and inter, I rests in y opin.. rgy of o carry ford. for the Grace pleasant over at h day ain oc- nd ac- sum- or vis- spend- ing the day with Mary Ross, and came home to find the family quite frightened about little Mary, who had come from school with a .violent head- ache, and was now so dull and sleepy that her moth- er's practiced eye discerned symptoms of illness which demanded immediate attention. Aunt Lois had been there all the afternoon, but her usual remedies had failed. She roused at hearing Grace's voice, but it was only momentary, she was too sleepy to respond to her inquiries. "We must send for the doctor right away," said 'Mrs. Winthrop. "I shall go for Doctor Allerton," sail Ernest. "No," said his mother, "Doctor Stanhope has been our faithful friend ever since I can remember. It would be very ungrateful to leave him now for a new one." "He is very feeble. :I saw him yesterday, and he looked as if he needed a 'doctor himself," said Ernest. "Well, I shall not forsake old friends for new. If you were sick, you could have who you chose. You must go for Doctor Stanhope first, and if he is not able to come, of course you must go for Doctor Allerton." Ernest was not long in finding Doctor Stanhope, too ill to attend to a patient, and Doctor Allerton at his office ready to accompany him. He was soon at the child's bedside, administering such remedies as her symptoms demanded. For nearly a week little Mary was very -ill, then her disease began to yield, leaving her feeble and very dependent on good n rsing for her recovery. 0 *FIFTY YEARSSGO.3 138., FIFTY YEARS AGO. 139 page: 140-141[View Page 140-141] 140 FIFTY.YEARS AGO. Aunt Lois had been invaluable in her aid to Mrs. Winthrop and Annie during the doubtf1 days; but as the child grew better, she was left for Grace to nurse and amuse.. I was July now. Grace would bring hr sister into the porch, and soothe and divert her in vari- ous ways. She grew stronger daily. Doctor llerton no longer came professionally, but he ofte found it convenient to drop in when Mary was comforta- bly seated in the armed chair, which was rought into the porch for her use, with her doll and its wardrobe on one side, and Grace and' the nend- ing-basket on the other. He always had scme en- tertaining story for the little invalid, making her quite; forget her doll and her earjness, and Jausing Grace to wonder how a man who knew so much of books could tell a child's story so p ettily. These visits seemed all for Mary, and she looked for his coming with great eagerness. Sh4 even knew the sound of his horse's footsteps before he came in sight. Was it the shadowy coolness of the old eln,; was it the:deep interest he took in his fast conval scing patient,;or was it the bright, fair face he as so sure to find a this hour attending the littl girl, that made him call so often ? No matter which, ome- thing made Doctor Allerton very attentive. ary was such a pet in the household, that it was very easy to believe that anybody would take great pains to make her happy but it came to an end. Mary was well again, and ran merrily abott en- tertaining herself. Grace went back to her hare of domestic duties, and I5octor Allerton called oc. FIFTY YEARS AGO. . .141 casionally, as a friend of the whole family,.though Mary claimed him as her special property. The harvest days ca e, and seemed very like the harvest days of the last yar. The old porch was again the family meeti g place at evening. A nd sometimes Ernest and Grace discussed the possi- bility of their uncle's coming in September. " Shall be glad to see him if he comes," said Deacon Winthrop, "but I hardly expect him.' Grace wondered if they would want her to go back with them. She was very doubtful of her own desire to do so, even if her father and mother shouldbe willing. It was to her -a peculiarly pleas- ant summer, she was busy and happy at. home. And after harvest, 'Ernest, Charlie Thorn and Ed- ward Nelson, got up such delightful berry parties and horseback excursions and rides to the lake, that she could .hardly tell where the days went, they glided along so full of work and play. ,She was at home on horseback. Caesar was her favor- ite for riding, she could gallop over the hills with Ernest, Charlie Thorn, or Edward Nelson, and not tire any .sooner than ,they. Her life was such a freedom from care, such a mingling of childhood and womanhood. Of course there were vexations and perplexities in her daily path, but they were such as 'ended with the passing event. "Grace !" said her mother, .one day, "how lit- tle you knob what life really is.' "Sevente'n years old and not. realize what .life is ! Why, m ther ! how strangely you talk." "1 suppose I do to' you, my child ;" and Mrs. Winthrop was silent, feeling how impossible it I _[+ 1 1 ' r3 k t a },; ; k t w Y. 4 1wrW r is ' fj{ page: 142-143[View Page 142-143] 142 FIFTY YEARS AGO. would be for her daughter to com thoughts, shadowed and shaped as t the realities, and responsibilities she through since she; was seventeen years With the conking of September strongly impressed-with the idea th would come. She took especial pains t thing about the'house in good order, bed was made up with snowy linen s jar of autumn flowers put in the fire-p Ernest's help she manufactured a toilet she draped with white, it was simple and the little mirror above it shone a mirror could. Another table, of Er facture, held a bywl and pitcher. curtains were very white, and looked they waved back and forth in the br daily aired and dusted the room, keep "if they should come,"a few chairs c furniture. A contrast truly to her aur surroundings in her own house, but was so relieved by its exquisite neat seemed inviting. Grace had a room b Mary always slept with Annie. Here sleep, and here she expended all her sk ing, and rearranging, until she thou available means she could do no more. It was the -second week in Septe afternoon was vey warm, and the daughters were swing busily, when denly appeared, all out of breath frd "Mother !" said he, "there is such carriage coming tip the hill, and a p prehend her ey were by had passed old. Grace was at her uncle o put every- The spare sheets, and a lace.1 With t frame, this and tasteful, s brightly as nest's manu- he window efreshing as eeze, for she ng it ready mpleted the t's beautiful ts plainness ness, that it y herself, for Laura could 11 in arrang- ht with her. nber. The mother. and Arthur sud.. m running. a beautiful air of black O t4 'v5 hc sil hco co th th sh. ho th - Ec of str ing th mc th( Ye] go Tb hec firs wa of aft ha Th rses with harnesses that shine as if they had ver on them, and there is a gentleman on rse ack riding just. ahead of it! Mother, here nes the gentleman up to our gate !" and Ar.. air's voice was fairly gone ii his attempt to tell, marvelous story. 'It is Uncle Edward !" said Grace, dropping her rk. "M Vother! Annie! the have come. What ill we do ?" t this moment, Deacon Winthrop came up on -sebacl from an opposite direction. Steadily two en looked at each other. "It must be ward ;' "it must be Henry," was the language each heart.. Had they encountered thus on a rnge spot, they might have passed on unknow- and unknown. They had parted young men, y met changed by the storms and sunshine of re than twenty'jyears, and as each dismounted y met, and stood with clasped hands, at the y gateway where their boyish feet had first ie out into life, with emotions too deep for words. 'he spice between then and now, faded out. e strong natural ties of brotherhood drew their rts tok there. - "Henry !" "Edward !'' were their t word ., as they had been their first thoughts. olonel Wir throp had directed his coachman to t a little distance, until he should get a glimpse is old home, and speak aword to its inmates.. You are not alone," said Deacon Winthrop, r a fef expressions of gladness and welcome found their way from his lips. No, m wife and daughter are in the carriage fy are coming in a moment." FIFTY YEARS AGO. 143 page: 144-145[View Page 144-145] 144. FIFTY YEARS AGO. 4 By this time Grace had come out to welcome her uncle followed by her mother a d Annie. The children meanwhile suddenly disappeared into their mother's bed-room,- leaving a crack of the door' open, so that they could get a clear idea of what was going.on. The carriage no came up. On hearing it Charles and Henry jumped out of the window and ran into the garden to get a bet- ter view through the fence. It was truly a rare sight that cartage, and those horses. And when their uncle opened a door in the carriage, and let down some stairs, arid ,gave his hand to two such finely dressed ladies to come out, they were ready to believe that Cinderella and her coach had really, come. Mrs. Winthrdp nd Laura met Grace as if they had kno n he always, and were very cordial to her mothr and sister. The windows of the spare roo were quickly thrown open, and into it these goes s of state were invited. Mrs. Colonel -Winthrop and La ra knew very little of country life. Colonel Wintirop had given them no idea of his early home; understanding him as they did, they knew his heart was both glad and sad ; that lhe had come to what was to him a very dear spott, and they must resect and honor it, however plain and homely it might seem to them. Grace. 4as a little embarrassed at first. She felt what must be passing through the minds Qf her aunt and cousin, but her uncle's manner quick- ly re-assured her it was his home tQo " I do not know what you will do ith my horses, bro riag rest like You whe a g nec gue rank her smo aftei in al mor new ing, com pear She) tum She thes to ei A tone I'll E Gra outi she I T ' 17 AArr. C A (N/ TAIr i1J'LX IJ , - - -t1 A .145 :her. i knew I could not endure the long car- e ride, so I brought my saddle-horse, and have ed myself by a ride on his back when I felt it. Plenty of room and plenty to eat, Edward. r man knows how to take'care of them." rs. Winthrop and Laura were shown up-stairs, re the runks. had gone before them ; there was od dea1 of bustle and confusion everywhere ssarily attending the coiing of so important its. It was astonishing how.quickly Grace ar- ed little Mary in her holiday dress, and gave hair, which had such curling propensities, thing touch. Charles, Henry and. Arthu\ * a due amount of coaxing, consented to come id be- dressed up ; then Grace undertook the a difficult task of introducing them to their relati ns. Arthur and-Mary were quite will- but qharles and Henry, after getting their age u to the highest point, suddenly disap- ed as she opened the door to bring them in. only heard their suppressed .laughter as they led over each other in their haste to retreat. plainly saw she must bide her time to bring Syourig gentlemen into notice, and left them ijoy their outside posts. ter s.tting a few moments, Grace said in a low to Annie, "I. am going. to meet Ernest, but e back in time to set the table: nest had gone away with the horse and Wagon. e disappeared behind the. gard en and camne nto th road beyond, walking quickly, on until et Er est. She soon to d him who had come, 1 i , " ', , ,. page: 146-147[View Page 146-147] 146 FIFTY YEARS AGO and added: "I wish you would take me to grand- mother's a fe~v moments. I will tell you by the way what my errand is." What Grace told her brother, or what her errand was at her grandmother's, we will not stay to hear. When tea was ready in the sitting-room, and Mrs. Winthrop began to fill the cups, she discovered her mother's hina was on the tray before her, and an unusual number of.silver spoons were at her service. She smiled to herself and remembered that Grace had been mis ing just when she wanted her, a little wiile before Ernest came home. She was sure she ever would have thought of such a thing ; but Gdace had ways of her own, and if her grandmother sanctioned them, she should say noth. ing. Charles 4nd Henry had by degrees got within speaking dista ce of their uncle. Their curiosity to see .the horses led then into the. front yard, where they came suddenly upon him as he was giving some directions-to the coachman. Mrs. Winthrop and Laura were standing in .the front door, and Colonel Winthrop called the boys to come and speak to them ; finding a retreat impos..- sible, they cate forward, and now at the tea-table they were intensely interested in watching all that went on. "You know our errand, sister," said Colonel Winthrop. " did have some scruples about ask- ing so great i favor, but as I see all these young folks gathered round your table, I feel more bold in my claims f6r Grace." "I thought #ou. would forget all about that, un- cle " said Grace. prom after " P to m "I Coloi moth their "I throp flock. "«I sent much get t farm. with: feed turni Th ories at th prayer his bc mother twen from faded ful mi his pl "S it mal FIFTY YEARS. AGO. 147 o,' indeed !" said Laura. "You know you isdd y u 'would go home, with us, if we came y u. rl aps father and mother will question my right ke suc a promise without their consent." must take the responsibility of that," said el Winthrop. "I think your 'father and er will see the justice of my claim on one of children, when they have so many." dn t know about that," said Mrs. Win- ; -" w haven't one to spare out of our little ra e is very necessary in her place." do not doubt it ; but I am not goiNg to pre- my cla m to-night, only hint at it. I'have so t th nk of and talk about, that I shall not it in everal days. I want to go all over the want Mrs. Winthrop and Laura to go ne, an see where I used to drive cows and ;heep hen, I was a boy- like one of these," g to harles and Henry. e ening was passed in calling up old mem. aid when Colonel Winthrop knelt that night family altar and listened to his brother's r, he tide of association swept him back.into y ood until he almost fancied his father and r wer in their old places, and the life be- tl em and now was not his; but as he rose hi knees, the youthful Edward Winthrop in o the dim past, and the man with a plenti- rg ing of gray in his once black hair was in ace e ing in my old room to-night, brother, why es me feel, young again," said Colonel Wing I i ;: page: 148-149[View Page 148-149] i FIFTY YEARS AGO. throp; "even this tallow-candle seems to flicker al sort. of welcogie." After theiriguests had retired, Grace assisted her mother in some preparations for breakfast, and then had a little chat with Annie. She was anx- ious to know what impression her aunt and cousin) had made. Annie never made up her mind hastily. She liked them very well, especially Laura. She: wanted to. see more of her aunt before she could; tell what she thought of her. The next day was very beautiful. Colonel Winthrop spent the morn- ing in wand ring over familiar spots, and in the afternoon,, accompanied by his. wife and daughter, Ernest and Annie, he started for a ramble about the farm. Laura was delighted with the beautiful views. MrsJ Winthrop managed to get up all the interest she could, but she soon tired of walking and climbing stone fences. Ernest went back with her to a path which led to the house, and she came up to the porch and seated herself very gladly fobl a talk with little Mary, who was alone there play- ing with a pair of frolicksome kittens. . n Mary was very much pleased with "the new lady," as she called her aunt. She grew very con- fiding and told her that she was goings to have some of the ''beautifulest" cake for tea that she ever saw. Grace was making it now, and she was "put- ting sugar all over the top;" then she thanked her for the pretty dress she sent her when.Grace went to Bostonandtold her items of household doings which greatly,amused her. "Have ydu ever seen Doctor Allerton ?" said, :he child. cur he to 4 are riag nev plaj woi Mai so r Wil nice your stay M. strer chan Grace not s so I light Th the t, were inter( to ea( N r Sd ~n xrC h( e. r Sr ld I iYe ust y ca '0 ix bu -s. gt ;e ei e ou a ,d vo sc st h o; v hy, me )ws acee re. I d did ide no to- s, d ( ed t'. :u 1 rria stay s, to oth tWe t or Wi Li fo :1 tI- soonr n th se ne b w it thej lad: on in tl othe FIFTY YEARS AGO. 149 vho is he ?" he's my doctor. I was very- sick and he he comes here now to see me. I guess about Boston,. 'cause I've heard him talk about it. I hope he will come while you I want him to'see your beautiful car- on't believe he ever saw any like it. I n all my life. I wanted to get in it and With my doll this morning, but Charle's : let me; he said I must ask you first. morrow ?" ar, and by to-morrow the horsesvill be bat your uncle will give you a' ride too. et me take Grace home with me in the ge ?" all night ?" stay a good many nights;, you have er and Annie and all your brothers." want Grace; you cannot have her to e night. I know mother won't let you." athrop concluded she should not gain r her cause in this quarter, so, she e subject by asking after the kittens. came in looking as fresh as if she had e kitchen all day long. e I could not keep up with your uncle, ack again.; but Laura' has gone on de- h everything." Mrs. Winthrop now joined them, and es, so unlike in .all their habits of life, pleasantly chatting, finding a common e tie of relationship which bound them r. '1 148 , if _i i i =p -r' page: 150-151[View Page 150-151] sip x rug fir) yrl i +7. ice' S TI S{ , J 4. , r y 1 f' 150 FIFTY YEARS AGO. Mrs. Colonel Winthrop was taking a new view, of life; it seemed to her so, impossible that this large family could go on so quietly without the aid of servants. She did not even see that their pres, ence caused extra labor. They helped each other, and everything seemed to go on so harmoniously. It was a new style of life, and its .novelty pleased' her. Just before sunset Colonel Winthrop appeared he had taken a different route from rest and the girls. "I am more changed than the old arm," said he to his wife. ' I have had a sad enjoyment all the afternoon. I wonder I could be content to stay away from the _old place so long. .'Look at that sunset! it is just such as I used to witch from this very place. I can almost hear mother's voice call- ing me to do some forgotten thing. e boys liked' play, and mother's hands were ver busy at this hour." Again the boy stood in th man's place,. and Mrs. Winthrop was silent. Annie and Laura soon came. Ernest had left them at the gate and gone to attend to his evening tasks. Laural was glowing in her description of her ramble. Her mother called her attention to her torn dress as a testimony of some of the incon- veniences attending the. way. "Never mind that, mother ! the rock I climbed was worth more than my dress. I was the one; where father used to call the sheep to give them salt., The top of it is broad and flat like a table.. To-morrow, Ernest is going to take us to ride in: the wagon. I shall enjoy that, I know." up an coi add fan Oil( wil int real anc hac pen but cep hou pat Col kee; pra are old the mutc gro said 'wou you] "' ] r Si re iii 1 re ly p c ed. w ;ec r en h W, ti 1 to u In D d fi S FIFTY YEARS AGO. 151 atl to Mary's delight, Doctor Allerton rode He did. not know of the arrival, but came iri as resented by Annie to her uncle, aunt and With his peculiarly happy manner, he sse himself to Colonel Winthrop. He was ar ith Boston ; so he was at home with Col.. Yin hrop there. He was well acquainted he olitics of the day, and with the general sts Of the country, at home and abroad. The fib of conversation went on with an, ease leas re which made Ieacon Winthrop, who ome in, very glad that the new doctor hap- to all. When tea was ready, he rose to go, s .s cordially invited to stay, that he ac- th invitation .and prolonged his visit an fter yards ; then he excused himself, to see a at is a very intelligent young man," said l Winthrop to Ernest. "Do you expect to im in Beechford ?" hopp to. He is getting quite an extensive e, andi seems interested in his work. There ood many fine people in Beechford, uncle." now there must be. It was always a good. n. Only I have grown so accustomed to tle and activity of a city, that I forget. how here is in the quiet of the country. I have to think of the country as a place for rest." u had. better hire out to me next summer," eacon. Winthrop, laughing heartily. "You wantigo back to the city to rest, before :st onthwas out." Lippose I would, if you drive ~business as II: * page: 152-153[View Page 152-153] Y, . e, , i :. . : R, ,. . . { ;, ;, FIFTY YEARS AGO. father used to; but my recollection of toil and hardship is so much more in the army than on the farm, that I never think of farm life with any feel- ing but rest and enjoyment." ''Not much rest," said Ernest; ' for nothing: stays as you leave it. The weeds and briars keep up a constant strife with the corn and otatoes, and in the garden the work is never done." " I have not come to the restingpla:e yet," said Deacon Winthrop; " but I suppose he world is alike all over ; it was intended to be 4 busy place, and, if we are good for any thing, we niust all have our share in its labors." By and by Col. Winthrop led the co versation to the subject of Grace's going home with them. " We shall not be content to go back without her," said he, "unless there are positive obje tions to her going." "Don't you know, Brother Edward," said Mrs. Winthrop, "that she cannot dress as aura does, and that it would ,be impossible for her father to increase his expenses ?" "I. know it perfectly well; and, if I take her, it shall be at my own expense. Laura wants a com- panion. Her aunt is very anxious t have her,' and to me she will be a link from the old place." "How long do you mean to keep he ?" "I will not .promise to bring her back under a year, unless some of you are sick and really need her. I do not mean to rob you' of G ace, sister; though I would gladly .adopt her. Oily promise she may stay a year with us, and then be guided by circumstances afterward." y S at st if N Y in Pe 7 f A - ca ax 11hi ob lef -bu wa cor an Mr get i J iJ f FIFTY YEARS AGO. I'3 C is )u as th e o0 re in v r rp Y mi c n r e r a ai t r Sa .9 ci aI b 152 olonel Winthrop found he had a good many acles to overcome from the whole family. The g lady herself did not help him much. She too happy at home, to seek to leave it. If her er and smother decided she had better remain, would be content. Laura was very earnest It it. She pictured in glowing colors the plea- s of the coming winter, and always spoke as going was a matter already decided. shall notgo directly home," said Colonel hrop. " I intend to journey until the first of mber. I' intend 'to spend a week iin New Grace will have a fine opportunity. of see- ew things and new places." acon and Mrs. Winthrop were a good deal exed. They thought about, talked about, and d over the matter, and at length consented. e, with her accustomed generosity, made no tions; only saying, playfully, "My silk dress t go for a year." est was very silent; his sister's society was 1l-spri g in his heart, but his uncle had told that ley another spring he should be able to for him a very desirable situation. So he e decision with the others. c wanted to go, and she wanted to stay- 4 is frame of mind availed nothing, and it very evident her uncle expected her to go,.she luded to think it was a very desirable plan, sure herself that she should enjoy it much. ) not trouble yourself to get her ready," said olonel Winthrop to her mother. "I can r all that she needs, in New York." page: 154-155[View Page 154-155] 154 FIFTY YEARS AGO. And thus, out of the journey to Boston, grew a plan which might change the whole course of Grace's life. CHAPTER XII. LE AVE-TAKINGS. ITTLE Mary had a ride every -beautiful carriage,-and so had Cha a d rthur. It was such a wonderful u and down the steps, to pull up th d w and look out so grandly on every p ssed. Laura preferred riding in the V w th her Cousin Ernest, and Colone e plored the town on horseback. Gr fil n' ie's place as much as possible, a a opportunity to see Laura and rid th when only one could go. .Do h called once or twice, and once in to ride-with him to Eagle Mountain, brad beautiful view from its summit. a ridle-path which was in itself a curi ptly natural andprliaeb h fotheir own convenience, in draw L ura had learned to ride on horseback ompanied her father So s th wld ideand the beautiful views h me quitein .ecstacies with every ci l1y her companion. " He is very en day in that Arles, Henry thing to go e glass win- body they open wagon 1 Winthrop ace tried to nd give her le out with for Allerton vited Laura to see the There was osity, being ood-cutters, ing wood. :, and some- he enjoyed ,and -came hing, espe- tertaining," page: 156-157[View Page 156-157] 156 FIFTY YEARS GO. said she. "I should think the young ladies here would enjoy his society.". "He does not seek ladies' society," said Ernest. " We have an idea that he has an interest outside of Beechford." "1 think the girls are a little afraid of him," said Grace. "He is always polite, but he seems so far off.'' "That is your opinion," said Ernest. f'The truth is, Cousin Laura, Grace likes to have a good time, and manages to find plenty to jdin her. Here are Charlie Thorn and Edward elson, always ready to do whatever she says, and he rest follow. Doctor Allerton strikes out his o n path. She regards him as quite too 'old and wise for her notice." Grace laughed, and said, "Ernest Winthrop had a path of his own as well as Doctor Allerton; at least the girls thought so. She was sure they could never manage him, if she was gone; but, for all that, he is one of the best brothers in the orld," and she laid her head caressingly on his shoulder, and was half a mind not to go'away and leave him. Sunday, Deacon and Mrs. Winthrop rod in the carriage with their brother and sister, littl Mary accompanying them ; while Laura rode in the wagon with the family. Such an establishment had never come up to the village-green before, and we must not think it strange that many ey s were directed to it. Its owner was thinking ore of the faces that were gone, and enjoying th shake of the' few friendly hands that were left t greet him, than of the sensation his carriage was making. n th: at M' ph1 wc th thi lik sic se at ev mu of. Lo' plain woi say sot and you k e1 ure, not Bos Oh, nev I cc ve nh B s. y ul u ig i he ry h er f( d YI at orn h( i 0] art in o1 d r bl FIFTY, YEARS AGO. s. Winthrop and Laura were watching the I scene with much interest,, and Grace was ing h w cold and formal her uncle's, church ston was, compared with this dear home one. Deac n Winthrop always shrunk from dis- of any kind. Her own seat in the wagon d have been much more to her taste; but she ht it 'ardly polite to say so. She accepted 3 as hey were. Mr. Wilson's discourse was hims excellent. Grace felt really home- s she ooked over the familiar scene from her the choir. The girls were full of regrets r going. They should miss her so much wher . remaining days of their stay, Grace was occupied in gathering together the treasures wardrobe and making farewell calls. Aunt as almost inconsolable, it was "such a poor or young girls to go away from home." She red "Mis' Winthrop" could consent to it. es," said Nannie, " but taint no use for us to word, Lois. Edward Winthrop was always having his own way when he was a' boy; thinks it's.a fine thing to take such a pretty, creature as. Grace to ride in his carriage and company with his daughter." at's it, Nannie. She is such a pretty creat- d every body takes toher so; that .I expect g but she'll be getting married out there to ,and we shall never have her back again. ar ! I wish she had staid to home. She ould have gone hunting up her relations if d have helped it. Strange Mis'-Winthrop T:57 page: 158-159[View Page 158-159] 158 FIFTY YEARS AGO. let her go !" And Aunt Lois wiped the te her poor old eyes, and tried to be resig what she could not help. "I don't believe she'll be sot up with tions," said Aunt Nannie.. "She's got a common sense, and that's worth more t pretty face and wonderful taking ways. a good bringing up, and the Lord will tak( her wherever she goes. May be He'll b back to us." So they comforted each other, and- tri cheerful over the loss of their favorite. Colonel Winthrop had called on them, a substantial proof of his early recoliectior Mi-s. Winthrop had been entertained quaint ways and curious little cottage, ar had become quite familiar with the' "all and their blooming contents. She had the big bunches of fennel which they g and quite won Aunt Lois's good opinion ing one of her sage beds as nicely as s have done it herself. If they had not been determined to car off, the old ladies would have considered wonderful nice family-not a bit "stuck their fine things. Laura took them to ride in her father's Annie accompanying her. This time the were left at home, as Grace told them the not need them' at all. So, leaving out the they enjoyed the visit. It was the afternoon before Colonel W expected to start for New York. ars from ed over igh no- deal of han her She had care of ing her d to be and left s.* by their d Laura y-beds" enjoyed ve her, by pick- e could. y Grace them a up" by arriage, big fans would ending, rinthrop FIFTY YEARS AGO. 159 Aft r di ner Sandford Ross and Annie, Ernest, Julia hor and Laura went to the lake, which lay about four miles distant. Charlie horn had invited Grace,. but she was oblige d to excuse herself, because she had so much to do, and she -must go to bid her grandfather and grandmother good-bye. Her mother was going out to ride with her uncle and aunt; Arthur and Mary were to go with them to have their last ride in the carriage. She wen alone to her grandfather's and staid with the ol people to an early tea. "Remember, my child !" said her grandmother, at par ing, ' your Bible and your prayers. I may be go e w en you come again, but I would have this t oug t abide with you always. Unless you love tM Lord Jesus Christ and serve Him above every- thing ise, our life will be a failure. May He 'keep you from temptation and deliver you from evil.'" " Ycur grandmother's words are good, my child," said her grandfather; "and I will add to them, 'Be not wise in thine own eyes ; fear the Lord and depar from evil,' and 'the Lord shall guide thee contin ally. "- Grace was weeping now, and with one, more farewell from these faithful sentinels of 'her child- hood and youth, she. went on her way. Once she turned back to look, and there they stood. watch- ing her out of sight. There were two ways home--one by the usual road, and an other more retired, where they walked or rode on horseback ; it was once the highway, but page: 160-161[View Page 160-161] I64 FIFTY YEARS AGO. had been so ittle used since the shorter road was made that it had growh impassable for wheels. She chose this latter path, that she might have time to compose herself without much anger of meeting anybody. She had gone about half-way, -and was trying to look at the bright side of things, determining that her last evening at home should be a cheerful one, when the was aroused by the sound of horse's feet coming in the path behind her. Who could it be? Her first impulse was to wait behind a tree until the rider passed, but be- fore she had time to get out of sight the horse was beside her and its rider had dismounted. Her eyes were so swollen and so red from the tears she had.. been shedding that she di not look up until a pleasant voice said, "Is it possible that I find you here, Miss Grace ?" "Doctor Allerton !" said she, in equal astonish- ment, "who would have thought of meeting you here? I did not lknow that you ever ame this way." "I have learned all the traveled path of your town. I was going to your house, and, for con- venience, came across here. Most fortunately, I think, since I have overtaken you in it. Is it" really true, Miss Grace,. that you are going to leave us ?'. " I suppose so. I have just been to bid grand- father and grandmother good-bye, I did not think' it would be so hard to leave them." . "And are they the only ones you regret to leave-?" " Oh, no ! I -have so: many friends that I won- FIFTY YEARS AGO. der I can go at all." And she choked back the tears that were ready to start again. "Did it ever!occur-to you," said her companion, gently detaining her, "that anybody outside of your imr mediate home circle might deeply regret your uncle's invitation ?." "Yes, the girls all do. It has been a great trial to part with them." "Grace Winthrop !" said Doctor Allerton, tak- ing her hand, "you must pardon my abruptness, and, listen while I tell.you something which, but for your going I should have kept longer to tmyselt and revealed at a moie fitting time. I hoped, as we saw more of each other, you would understand my feelings towards you, for I have learned to love you very much, and to hope that sometime in the future yo will return my love, and-consent to be- come my wife." Had any earthquake uddenly rent the ground at the young girl's feet, she could not have been more utterly astonished. S e had been so full of happi- ness, had had so many to love,.and so much to inter- est and occupy her, th t she had had little room to dream of what mig t be. When she got to it, possibly she might marry, but not for years and years.i She was not uite eighteen, only a dear, home child, and Doctor Allerton, of all persons, to ask her to become is wife! He was so Much older and so much wiser that, she never thought he self a companion for him. What could have pu such a thought intc his head! Had she heard aright ? Yes, she had, or it was very plainly said, and here stood Docto} Allerton still holding her 161 . . _ i _ page: 162-163[View Page 162-163] 162 FIFTY YEARS AGO. hand, and looking with such an intense ex in his speaking eyes. Hastily withdrawing her hand, she coy face, and wept. The tears she had' just p all came again. It seemed to'her that th had grown strangely dark, and she was trouble. Her impulse was to run away, an believe she had heard a word of what Do lerton certainly said. But in the apparent posed man, who had turned away to let cover herself, she felt that she had met a r In a little time he came to her, and sal quietly, "We must not wait here, Miss the dew is heavy, and however much 1 mi to detain you, I should not like to have sick." Drawing his horse's bridle over one placed her hand in the other and they slowly on. " I must consider this meeting provid said he, breaking the silence. "Ever since you were going, I have been seeking an tunity to speak to you on this subject. I despaired of obtaining it, when I found you denly in my very pathway. I came this w cause I wanted to think without being distv Once Grace.would have said this was her for choosing it this afternoon, but she seem denly bereft of the power of speech. Finding her still silent, he said, "May that the meeting is not a vain one, and ti will sometime return the love which I have e ed for you?" )ression red her t away e world full of d never tor Al- Ly com- her re- ality. d, very Grace, ht like ou get rm he walked ential," I heard oppor- almost so sud- ay be- rbed." reason d sud I hope at you press- " I do not love any father, mother, Ernes and a great many other over her face at th as she was on the p ence. "1That is all right," s - tion of a smile, "I do any of these. I only You need not say you me- "I cannot promise Please do not think not" "Wait a moment. O to you sometimes, -yo That is not asking too "I could not interes very tired.of my answe: " Let me judge of th I deserve for proposing enjoy them." Grace was silent. "We are almost thro "will you not promise . partinig boon to a friend . "If you will call me n said she, looking up, a light through the darkn "Not until I have you not oblige anybody to at the end of the road." " Please do not go ho body, Doctor Allerton, but , Annie and the children, s ;" and a half smile came extent of her love just point of denying its exist- lid he, glad to see the reac- not ask to take the place of want you. to love me, too. will to-night, only promise nything, Doctor. Allerton. ny more about it. I can- nly promise, that if I write u will answer my letters. much, is it ?" you. You would soon be rs." t, and take the punishment such a thing, if I fail to ugh this pathway," said he, to ansWer my letters as a thing more than a friend," if she saw a glimmer of ess. r full permission. I would ove me. But here we are e with me," said Grace. 163 FIFTY I YEARS AGO. R r a ; jr '', ' r, - . ' } . 4..,t 5 i" . 1.. '':" 'ri. ;ik page: 164-165[View Page 164-165] FIFTY YEARS AGO. "I was going to .call, but I cian come: must see your uncle again.' Withdrawing her hand from i1s arm, soon out of sight, and going through the she entered a back door and went up to h The others had not yet come, and the h very still. It seemed to her as if a shad fallen over everything. She loinged to door and weep until it passed away. there was the cheerful voice of C arles, ca from the foot of the stairs. He had a i from mother, and wondered what kept It was her last night at home or a lo and she'had intended to have everything r tea as soon as-they came from their ride. bad enough parting with her grandfather an mother, how could Doctor Allerton add trouble by such an unheard of, proposition his wife! or anybody's wife ! And a whiol regrets for her lost child-life again came over her. Now she was glad she was goi to-morrow ; she should forget it n the ch scene, and when she came back it would b never happened. Charles' second . call rou and washing away her tears, she! hastene to set the table. Charles and Herry were sistants. They were so cheerful, and ma a. comical arrangement of things, that she in spite of herself, and by the time the came she was tolerablT composed. If her noticed traces of tears, she attributed it parting w th her grandparents. Ernest anc Sandford Ross and Annie, came very so then tea was reacb. later. she was garden, er room. use was low had hut her ut, no, ling her message her so. g time, eady for It was d grand- to her ! She, tide of rushing g away ange of e as if it ed her, *down her as- de such smiled arriage mother to her Laura, n, and t64 r it i '" FIFTY YEARS AGO.165 I wanted to see you young doctor again," said Colonel Winthrop. "I thought he might happen in to tea." "I did not know but e might be here when we got home," said Mrs. W nthrop,-"has he been here this afternoon, Charles ?" Charles having been left ii capacity of liouse- keeper, quickly responded. No, ma'am, and Mrs. Winthrop surmise that he would probably call in the evening. Grace felt the blood rush to her face at the very mention of his' name. he turned to speak to her little sister, though she scarcely knew what she asked her. Mary was a good covert, for she was too frill of the grandeur of her ride in ",that beau- tiful carriage," to hear a word her sister said. Doctor Allerton did call at evening, and was to all appearance quite absorbed in conversation with their guests. Several of Grace's most inti- mate friends came too. So she had enough to do to talk to them all. S-e did not once speak to Doctor Allerton, but sh felt 'his- presence every- where. She was more grave than usual, but that was easily accounted for in the jct that she, was leaving so much that she loved. To have a some- thing in her keeping which she could not even tell her life-long confidant Julia Thorn, was oppressive, some. thing which she could no: speak of even; to Ernest, required new strength on her part to carry alone. She hoped to avoid speaking to Doctor Allerton vvhen he left. Seeming, to. be absorbed with last words to her young friends, she tried not to notice his-going. But he advanced 1o the corer where, r. "7' ,x°' ' ^; 5a Y},. r C'.(i y t } t '1, { r' t ;i r4r .£ page: 166-167[View Page 166-167] I66 FIFTY YEARS AGO. she stood and extended his hand to her. His was so c9mposed that no looker-on wou. suspected how deeply he regretted the part the pressure of his hand brought the colo cheek, and told her how well he remember( interview that afternoon. Doctor Allerton's love for Grace inthrop passing fa cy. At first she please him wel ing her ashispupil; he admired her clear, way of thinking, and her warm, sympatheti Dignity and playfulness were so charmingly ed; that they gave her an unconscious power knew, for his close observation tcld him she would be astonished at the declaration h to her that afternoon. A declaration whicl other circumstances, he would have delayc he was more certain of his grounds. But s going away, and if he lost her now, it might ever. He resolved to tell her plainly, star as it might, and leave it for futur devel She had promised to answer hisletters, a was the utmost he could expect. "Better and fail," thought he, "than never to try He was in no- condition to marry t presei one year or two,.if he attained hi object, not disarrange his plans. "Such a girl as Winthrop is .worth waiting for," ere his ful thoug ts, as he rode out in he clear night on is way home. And her we wil him, with his doubts and perplexities, while back to the little room where Grace is vain ing to forg t everything, and go to sleep. ing sleep was something quite new t her, an FIFTY YEARS AGO.' manner d have ing, but r to her d their was no 1, meet- correct c heart. blend- r. He -O, that e made under d until he was be for- tle her pment. id this to try at all." it. So would Grace hope- r, still [ leave we go ly try- Court- d after 167 thinking over her perplexities, until she was too weary to think any. longer, she forgot them all, and- did not wake until the, sun was shadowing the elm leaves all over her window curtain. Things look to us so differently by daylight, es- pecially when there is something to'fill out every moment of our time, even her interview with Doc- tor Allerton involved less than her midnight view of it presented. She had only promised to answer his letters. After all he might not write.. If he did he would soon tire of it, and she should not have to see him again until she had forgotten what he said. She went down stairs, determining to be very cheerful, and assist as usual in the breakfast duties, but Charles had entered the service before her. "Mother says'I must try and fill your place," said he; " but should not wonder if I should be missing a good .many times this winter just when she wants the table set, boys are so unrelia le, you know," and he gave his sister a wise, comprehen- sive nod. "I suppose she will not expect me to sew, and do all the family things you do. I won- der what sort of a cap I should make for grand- mother, or how Annie would like the way I should trim her winter bonnet." So the lively boy chat- ted on, until breakfast was ready, his mother clecid- ing that in one thing at least, he could equal Grace, and that was talking. They were to start in the morning, the carriage was at the gate, the horses in their silver-decked harnesses seemed impatient to be gone. Colonel Winthrop's saddle ,horse was fastened at the post. p ii i page: 168-169[View Page 168-169] FIFTYY YEARS AqO. Grace bore up bravely through Laura was. in excellent spirits, come very year as long as' could. Arthur and Mary want the church, and then come bac was delighted at this proposal them with her a few moments in her eart she began to think ton ha made her more willing should have been, but for his The carriage door was shut, throp irected John to drive on the window as the dear'home f Grace took a farewell of the held for her. Arthur and Mar fort until they reached .the cht were gone, and only familiar ho were lft. Colonel Winthrop s and rode cheerfully on by the s occasionally directing John to ~ ed out some familiar spot. Gra friends were kind, they did no was sorrowful to leave her pl expression in her father's prayer self on her inmost soul, as she s fading out of familiar things. fence Bowith her, take her not] the parting scene. and promised to she lived, if she Ad to ride as far as k on foot. Grace as she could keep longer. And now. that Doctor Aller- g to go than she- startling proposal. and, Colonel Win- . Leaning out. of aces were in sight, nearest spot earth y were some com- rch, and then they ises, trees and hills on overtook them, de of the carriage, top while he point- ce was sad, but her t wonder that she easant home. ,One r, was stamping it- ilently watched the "Except thy pres- hence." CHAPTER- XIII. THE JOURNEY. rP.HE journey to New York had variety in scen- ery and in people. Sometimes when Laura and Grice were tired of riding, they walked for a mile, stoppino- to admire the fine views. Every- thing was different from the journey which Ernest and Grace took the year before, no wayside din- ners or friendly cou ins were in this. Colonel Winthrok .never went beyond a certain degree of familiarity, and his excessive punctuality made no allowances for any waiting on the part of his family. Mrs. Winthrop often said she had to live half an hour ahead to keep time with her. htis band, and Laura was fast learning this half hour principle. Grace did not anticipate much trouble from this point in her uncle's character, she had- never been in the habit of k eping people waiting. At length they reached N, w York. New York fifty years ago! .Where are the hotels and places of note to-day, which were so conspicuous then? Where are the old forest rees that were then strong undisputed possessors of even the "down town" of to-day ? Who could have foretold that the on-marching tide of life and ctivity would in fifty 8 (169). 1 - i68 .1 ri , ,} page: 170-171[View Page 170-171] {} 'I . 170 FIFTY YEARS AGO.0 years uproot them all, and plant in their places broad 'venues and princely d ellings, with the ever-ircreasing' demand for "more room, more room." Well! New York met all the necessities of the country then and it on y doe's that now. Probably in another fifty years he wonder will be how we ever called it "'a gre t city." Colonel. Winthrop knew where to find he best accommo- dations the city afforded, and having established his family quite to his mind, he left them to enjoy themselves for the rest of the da in their own .way. Grac's perceptive faculties vere on the alert now, for everything was strange and new. She felt more lonely than she had one since leaving home, and was glad when she a d Laura could go to their room and be themselves again. Her trunk looked like an old friend. She pened and shut it with special satisfaction, and almost felt like pat- ting its unpretending surface. " Cone, Grace," said Laura, "you have done all homage to that trunk. I wish o'h would leave it and sit in this window with e and look at the people and the fashions; that's t e way when you' come to New York." Grac looked on and was oon entertaining Laura. ith her original remarks as the' morning picture came under her eye. " We are going on a shopping expedition to- morrow,'' said her cousin; " ait until you see yoursel arrayed in ome of m ther's purchases, and then no more smiling at th 'fashions from my lady! Don't look sober, now; mother has good taste, not at all inclining to the r diculous." It was as Laura said ; the, fine, Mrs. Winthrop a'nnoun- going out'to shop. "Be r have .so much to do that And at ten they went; driv n where Grace, at her aunt's s to try on 'bonnets; they wo made up scientifically, reg i quantity of material used.. o e pleased Mrs. Winthrop,a ttry 'it on. Laura called w s for the fashion of the d seemed to Grace more in ke dies she had seen in pictur style. "Isn't it too much dress fo in a-timorous aside. "You must not think of t your uncle wishes you.to dr will not please him if you obj Grace was silenced and the At their next stopping-place s silk measured off, and lace for with it; then they drove to th she was measured and fitted to be made up for her. The chases made, but to Grace the important. "I could have made that Laura, when they were alone. "Mother wants it for you to here; you will, find we shall h for sewing." FIFTY YEA 4,j RSC r C i 7 r 1 . r 4 i v f I .1 Y' O- 171 next morning b ing iced her intentio of ady at ten, girls, f r I want plenty of time." g first to a milliner's suggestion, proceeded re real bonnets then, rdless of size or ihe At length a white silk nd she directed Grace it very becoming; it y very pretty, but it ping with the fine la. s than to her simple me, aunt?" said she, iat -any more, child; ss as Laura does; it ct." bonnet was ordered. ie saw a costly black trimming laid away e dress-maker's,-and nd the material left e were other pur: se seemed the most ress,' said she to wear while we are ae very little time ! A e4 !"1 page: 172-173[View Page 172-173] FIFTY YEARS AGO. FIFTY YEARS. AGO. A beautiful shawl was next promin nt things to Grace's outf company had been in existence i Winthrpp's shopping would hav but wa ned by her husband of t of conveying baggage, she con gloves and laces, and a few su make a greater demand on the p in packing. After shopping, The Battery, with its shaded green grass, was as fashionable as a drive through Central Park whose wondrous beauty travel rivallec. by the far-famed bay o as it does to-day, beautiful island face, washed up its gentle, gol by sunlight, and changed the the melon looked - down .upon the old forest trees, retire from i like the Battery, grow unfashi quate for the increasing demand resources. Save for its steam bay of New York has the same years 4go. Grace and Laura the su set views from the Ba linger there as long as they c Winthrop. The City Hall was a wohde the attention of strangers. Th Arts in Barclay street had m interest them. The casts and e by Napoleon to Mr. Livingsto for this institution. The Ame dded among the t. If the express n those days, Mrs. e been extensive; eir limited means ented herself with h articles, which trse than on space came sight-seeing. w alks and smooth a promenade then is now. The bay, rs tell us is only Naples, revealed, s dotting its sur- en - tinted waves, into silver when t. It cannot, like ts stronghold ; nor enable and inade- d of man upon its ing population, the ut-look it had fifty ere charmed with tery, and loved to uld detain Colonel then, and claimed e Academy of Fine any things in it to gravings presented. formed a nucleus rican Museum was in its infancy, but it already ous specimens, and was in things to be enjoyed. Colc money, leisure and taste to i sight-seeing. Grace was alm enjoyed everything very m to Laura's amusement by view of things. Thoughts with the hour of sleeping. S her that something had com past, or she -was dreaming a soon. One day when they ca found a card and an invitatio containe many c lauded in the list nel Wint rop had mprove those days ost bewildered. S ch, apnd added grea hen sprightly origi af home would coi metimes it seemed between her and t id would sui-ely wa me in, Mrs. Winthr 4 to dinner from M uri 61 th( of he tly nal me to he ke op rs 0 !1' , ,ir .'1 ;Pr r; i' t u 172 Oakley, a friend who formerly resided in Boston. "How did she know that we were here," said Mrs. Winthrop to her husband. "I met Mr. Oakley on the street this morning. I had forgotten. to tell you. I thought he did not seem pleased that we had been here so many days without letting him know it; but I told him I had brought my family on an excursion, and we had all been so busy we had not yet reached the visit- ing point. When are we to dine with them ?" " To-morrow. I am sorry I was out when Mrs. Oakley called." " Writ" an acceptance, and make it all up when you get there ;" and Colonel Winthrop paced the floor and kept on with his thoughts. "I am glad your dress is done, Grace:; it will be just the thing for you to wear." "'Am I to go, aunt ?" asked Grace, in some dis- may. " Certainly. I suppose your uncle told Mr. Oak- 60 r T y ik - - a i Ti Isla I " 1t '} I ya it ,+ri y+r3 " i"r' ' 1 tt-t :pro yi s ,IA " t t 1 . ,) , a s f} j ,il I i' :; fF y'f tv, page: 174-175[View Page 174-175] ~FIFTY YEARS AGO. 175 ley you were with us; for the y included in the invitation." Grace venttbred to ask Laura wl their owns room, "if dinner parties unpleasant ?" "Dread fully stiff sometimes'; bu Oakley. are easy and social the ms very much; don't be frighteied, I think you will enjoy it." When Grace was dressed the nex down with her aunt and Laura I Winthrop in the hall, she. could r for some speedy means of transp her home, where everything was na means being available, she meek aunt and cousin into the carriage, r the time and place as best she coul Arrived at Mr. Oakley's, they to the dressing-room. Grace was her aunt's eye rested on her ap gave her fresh courage, and taking arm, she went down-stairs and fol and aunt into the drawing-room, v ley's cordial, easy reception put h She was introduced to the other g her aunt and Laura, and in listenin sation going on around her, and ob surroundings, she quite forgot her] dress with its rich trimmings. I mindful-of her, and drew her att beautiful engravings which Mr,.Oak from Europe. Mr. Oakley and his two sons ung ladies are en they were in were not very it Mr. and Mrs. elves, that helps am disposed to t day, and came o meet Colonel ot help wishing ortation back to itural. No such ly followed her 'esolving to bide d. were conducted conscious that provingly ;. this Laura's offered owed her uncle here Mrs. Oak- er quite at ease. guests along with, g to the conver- serving her new unwonted silk Laura was very ention to some ley had brought ,ame; and soon after, dinner was announced. Robert-Oakley, the eldest, escorted Laura, and his brother gave his arm to Grace. Conversation at the table was easy and general, but there was so much.ceremony that Grace was glad. she had taken some lessons at her uncle's table, or with all her powers of quick ob- servation, she. could hardly have failed to have felt herself in a trying' position. She was glad when after sitting two full hours, the ladies, rose and left the table. Then Laura and she wandered about the rooms looking at some old paintings, which Laura explained to.her and made them tell a story of their own. Then came some music, to "which Grace listened with great delight, and soon the gentlemen joined them. Robert Oakley came and stood by her; and very naturally fell into conversa- tion with her. Grace was never at loss for lan- guage; she only needed somebody to draw her out. She had seen so many of the noted things.of the city that they had plenty to talk about. And Boston, which he had left .only a few years before, afforded. an ample topic,; by-and-by Laura came, and James Oakley and two or three others, And in the general conversation which followed, Grace was a' silent, but appreciating listener. She had' forgotten herself long ago. She did not know that the secret of her success wherever she went was her gift' of forgetting herself and enjoying other people. She had scarcely thought how she appeared since she came; there was so much to'entertain and in- 'terest her that she had no time for it. Robert and James Oakley were old acquaint- ince of Laura's, and they had many associations to 174 FIFTY YEARS AGO. I . r H, ZZ ig page: 176-177[View Page 176-177] -s14 176 FIFTY YEARS AGO. revive-some of them very amusing and quite en. joyable to live over again. Mrs. Oakley was talking with Mrs. Winthrop, but her eye often wandered to the merry group where her sons vere. "I have a very happy thought, Mrs. Winthrop," said she. " I wish you would leave these two young ladies with me a couple of months. I think I could make it very pleasant for them." " Thank you," replied Mrs. Wint rop. "I have no doubt of the pleasure they would have, but Colo- nel Winthrop would not consent to that; heis fond of having young people in the house. Laura has been away at school a great deal, and his niece is a prize too hard to obtain to part with so soon." " I am afraid you are making-Colonel Winthrop your shield," said Mrs. Oakley, laughing. "Will you consent to it if he does ?"; "I am so sure that he will not, that it is quite safe to say yes." "Here he comes " said Mrs. Oakley. "I will see what his unbiassed opinion is. o you know, colonel, that I am strongly dispose to keep these young ladies for a couple of months, and giVe them some idea of New Y rk ? You Bostonians are not half aware of our superior advantages." "Don't forget that you are a Bostonian yourself, Mrs. Oakley !" I'll promise not to, if you will leave these girls with me ; it is just he season for enjoyment, and I shall be most happy to chaperone them." " You are certain1j very kind, and if they could be in two places, I should be disposed to accept your invitation, but it will be impossible to leave '77 them now, our journey is not yet. completed.- I propose to start for Philadelphia to-morrow." "Oh, you had not told us that !" said Mrs. Oak- ley; "then you can leave them on your return." "Thank you; it will be impossible. I like young people in the house in the winter." Mrs. Oakley understood Colonel Winthrop's "im- possible " so well, that she did not press the sub- ject any farther, and shortly after her guests took their leave. On their way home Laura asked her father "if their going to:Philadelphia was not sudden." ".No," said h ; "I thought of it before we came from home. I did not tell your mother until we got to New York, for my mind was not fully made up. I did not like to drive my horses on so long a journey, and unless I could hire a pair that suited me, and leave mine in good care to rest, I did not expect to go. I have found a pair to-day,-.and a driver, so I shall leave John to take care of mine, and they will be fresh for starting when we come back. I suppose you and Grace will not object to seeing a little more of the world, even if the an- nouncement was sudden." "I shall enjoy it doubly for having Grace, and I have long been wanting to go to.Philadelphia." "New York and Philadelphia !" thought Grace, as she leaned back. in the carriage and thought. "I suppose Iram Grace Winthrop, but I almost doubt it." The poor girl had had a succession of doubts ever since she .met. Doctor Allerton on her way home from hex grandfather's. The rapid succes- sion ofevents since then had somewhat diverted 8* FIFTY YEARS AGO. ;' - (, , page: 178-179[View Page 178-179] 178 FIFTY YEARS AGO., her thoughts from the scene, but now and then it came up very forcibly. On reaching the hotel the girls went directly to their room, and after laying aside their. shawls, they sat down to talk. "Were you not surprised to hear we were going to Philadelphia to-morrow ?" asked Grace. "Yes ; but father likes to surprise us by some plan he thinks out and expects us to enjoy. It is very pleasant this time, surely. You don't know how much more I enjoy this journey for having you along ; I am always so lonely in my room at a hotel. I even enjoy d the dinner at Mrs. Oakley's to-day better for hating you there. I was think- ing when you sat so quietly dignified at the table, how thoroughly yo'9 were taking in every thing around you. What a happy thought it was for you to come to Boston ! It will be such a pleasure to me this winter to have some one to enjoy things with me. I know now how lonely I have been. I felt it more when I saw how much you all loved each other at your house, and how many ways you had of being happy without riches. But I am run- ning on about myself, without asking you how you like New York dinner-parties." "I got through this one a great deal better than I expected to. I was so entertained with the novelty that I forget to be embarrassed. I .never once thought about my ncw silk dress." "I thought you did not," said Laura, .smiling. "Iow did you like Mrs. Oakley's proposal ?" "I had better reply by.asking how you'liked it, for I am so bewildered with New York, Philadel. phia and Boston, that Iyam sure I cannot' tell." FIFTY YEARS AGO. "I knew father would not listed. to it; in the first place, he would not leave us anywhere ;- and in the next place, he does not like Robert Oakley. ,It is one of his unaccountable dislikes. When they lived in Boston he fancied he was too attentive to his daugh- ter. We were very young, and father seemed pos- sessed with the idea that I should be snatched away from him before he was ready to let me .go. He and mother are great friends. of Mr.. and Mrs. Oakley, and he never speaks-of Robert now. I think he is convinced that there was nothing more than friendship between us ; but you may be sure he will not leave us to. visit with, Mrs. Oakley. Mother told re to come to her - room," said she, suddenly starting up. "Be sure you do not run away if I leave you alone a 'few mo. ments." Mrs. Winthyop was lying down after the fatigues of the day. he only wished to.tell,Laura to send everything to her room that she and Grace could do without on their trip to Philadelphia, as her father desired as little baggage as possible, and to tell her that she should not go down tothe parlor again this evening ; so, of course, she. and Grace need not. "Crace may. send her black silk dress- to my room, she will not need it while we are gone. And, by the way, Laura, I was more than satisfied with her to-d y, she did not make a single blunder, and that dress is particularly becoming. Mrs. Oak- ley admired pier very much, but I am so tired and sleepy you n d not -stay any longer, only be sure your things 4 e ready to send to.my room early in A:. I79 page: 180-181[View Page 180-181] 180 FIFTY YEARS AGO. the morning. Your father says we must leave by ten o'clock." Punctually at ten o'clock Colonel Winthrop's carriage, with its new horses. and driver, stood at the door of their hotel, and his family were soon in it driving towards Philadelphia. It was now the second week in October, the weather was fine, an 1 in due time, by easy stages, they reached Philadelphia. " What a contrast to Boston !" said Laura, as they, drove through its regular streets. "I am so used to going crooked at home, that I really be- lieve I should lose myself in this-good order." Here, as in New York, Grace gathered up every thing of interest. "How shall I ever keep so much to tell them at home," sai she to Laura one day; "letters are so poor to cairy the half I have to tell." "You must see the old State House, where that glorious Declaration was read," said. Colonel Win-. throp the first morni g after their arrival; and to the State House tlhey went. They visited the library which Franklin's public spirit founded ; the Athenaum, the Academy of Fine Arts, and- he United States Mint. Colonel Winthrop was intensely national; he looked upon these foundations of future improve- ment, as foretastes of the country's growth in peace and prosperity. In its days of darkness and peril he had fought for its welfare, and now its omens of future life and g eatness filled him with rejoic- ing. He had not b en so far south since weary, but triumphant, he returned with that part of the American ar lis' surrender No wonder unfolded such had need to r If railroads to Boston wou was, a five da and they return more days be called on them managed to a by his' attent polite to Grad be, in her unc tured to urge ladies for a co quite useless. " Between a to her cousin leave New Y city pretty thc at my going knows why it. unaccountable home to avoid suddenly, "d twelve years' while?" "I have lat shadow came Both girls exclamation r FIFTY YEARS AGO. I8I which came north after Cornwal- - Yorktown. e was lost in thought! Life. had varied leaves for his perusal,. that he d them in wondering silence. 'ad been in existence, their return d have been longer delayed. As it s' sojourn answered all purposes, "ed to New York to spend a few re starting for home. The Oakley's soon after they arrived. Robert use Colonel Winthrop's suspicions ns to Laura. James was equally but that only seemed as it should le's mind. Mrs. Oakley' again ven- Mrs. Winthrop to leave the.young ple of months, but she found it was ther, and the Oakley's," said Laura e night-before they were going to k, " I think we. have examined the roughly. Father is getting vexed it with Robert. I do not think he nuoys him either. It is one of his prejudices, and I am glad to go any difficulty. . Grace !". said she, you ever wish you were about ld, and could stay there a great y," said Grace, and a quick, painful ver her bright face. re silent for a few mome ts. Laura's called her cousin. 3... 1 page: 182-183[View Page 182-183] 182 FIFT YEARS AGO. "What an expression,, Grace ! I have been watching your face ; it has a look of sad intensity which I never saw ybu wear before. Do smile, or I shall think my sun1y cousin has a shadow some- where." Grace did smile, end drop the thought which Laura's remark had brought to light. Just then Mrs. Winthrop came in to tell Laura her father thought that she had made so many purchases, that it wpuld be necessary to get an extra trunk for packing, and send it by the mail- coach to Boston. " So you must send all that you and Grace can do without to my room as soon as possible." While Laura was packing, Grace wrote to An- nie. She had only sent one letter home since she left, and had not heard a word from them.. She expected to find a letter waiting for her when she reached Boston. The horses were fresh and strong to undertake the journey, and.John had them in readiness for their homeward trip the next morn- ing at an early hour. November is fitful, and if she beams softly through hazy vapors on her "opening days," she may sweep away every vestige of such moods in one of her gustful attacks. Colonel Winthrop made no un-' necessary delays, driving as far each day as he could, with safety to the horses. Two or three days of rain were the only interruptions they had. About'the middle of the month, one windy day, Grace found herself in front of the same stately mansion which she so well remembered 'to have seen before. she went up th The door wa his face smilin tress at home a who. had beer Laura rememb hall. Colonel they might be wore an expe the fireplace, r irons and fen soon reflecting "Come rig Laura. Grace follow room, .where like air. The hearth, and G the apartment. with every reg, could be very there came int old homestead that she could She looked res ing, flickering The journey side this. her her nice sens have caught si only the farm to take a spee FIFTY YEARS AGO., 18 Ernest!" was her first thought, a steps. s opened by the same sable Ralph all over to see his master and mis gain. Mrs. Clark, the housekeeper the presiding genius ever since ered any thing, met them in th inthrop had written, to say tha expected any day; so, every thing tant look. The wood was laid in ady to be lighted. The'brass and- ers shone resplendently, and were the bright, glowing fires. t up to our room, Grace," said ed to the spacious third story fron very thing bore an inviting home- fire .was quickly blazing on- the -ace sat down to take a survey o It was furnished in excellent taste, ard to comfort, and looked as if on sappy in it; but just at this momen ) Grace's head such a vision of the and the dear faces gathered there, l not keep the tears from coming. olutely into the fire, but in its danc ight she only saw the vision clear as all done now, and she must con some for at least a year. With al1 of propriety, I think, if she could ght of Ernest and Fearnaught, with ~agon, she would have been. tempted1 Ly passage back to Beechford. Evea~ page: 184-185[View Page 184-185] 184. FIFTY YEARS AGO. Doctor Allerton looked less iormidable than he had ever done before, and for the first time she thought of his letters as a source of unexpected pleasure. Her heart was aching to ask if there were any letters waiting for her; but there was so much bustle and inquiry after this and that, that she did not venture to mention it. " I am tired and hungry," said Laura, coming in from a general survey of the house, and throwing herself on the bed. "After dinner 1 expect to sleep until to-morrow morning, if I can, and then we will begin housekeeping. Such a cleaning of drawers and closets as I expect to make ! You. shall have your share of'all the conyniences,' as Mrs. Clark says. " Do you keep a fire here all of the time ?" "Yes, always.. Ralph fills that box :wice every day, and Mrs. Clark looks after the fire when I am out. This fire has been my special companion. I shall not be on half as social terms with it, now that I have you to talk to. .I'm so glad to see you sit- ting in that chair, Grace Winthrop, that I do not believe I shall ever let you go away. Come to this window," said she, rising up and going to it. "See what a beautiful view we have ! I have watched all of these surroundings so ong, that I feel as if they were my especial friends.' It was rather a chill November day, and people w ere hurrying along as if increased peed were necessary to keep up a brisk circulation. Grace tried to think how it would look under a sunny sky, and Laura was satisfied that she would admire. it sufficiently by and by., FIFTY YEARS AGO. There was a knock at the door, and Mrs. Clark appeared, holding up a letter. "It came for you three days ago Miss Grace. I forgot to give it:to you as soon a you got here, though I kept it by itself on purpose." "A letter !" and Grace's face lit up so beamingly that Laura called it very beautiful. "Oh! thank you, Mrs. Clark. It is the very thing I wanted.. Annie !" she exclaimed, and dance round the room in very joy. "Good-bye," said Laura. "Don't fly out of th window and go to Beechford, while I am gone,' and in a moment Grace was alone. She opened the dear letter and read, and-read, and laughed, and cried. It was the first sound from home for six weeks. There were messages from, every one of them,.and little items of news. They had missed her so much! Mother had no idea of how many steps she saved her.' Ernest said the house was lonely from top to bottom, and the children were always in trouble about -something which would not be so if-Grace were here. "Father and I make the best of it," wrote Annie. "If we did not, I think you would see the whole family, with Aunt Nannie and. Aunt Lois, in close pursuit of you. Aunt Lois says, 'It's a-foolish piece of business to let young gals go off with their fine relations, but folks must do as they are a-mind to with their own.' Mother says, 'Remember your uncle's kind-. ness, and repay him by your dutiful attention to his wishes.' " Can I stay away a whole year!" said she, half aloud. 'Why did I come ?" Then the thought ;+ 9 I ii v , 4 r ® I o I . ' r .' ~ }t _ \ _ - ' ' 43z y j ' + ; ,z. ' t : \ r I ,. } I i' t 4 ,ti- .- T ,7 it'. f :3 _ - ~~a" ' ~ Jy , i' =(4. ,_, ,;. page: 186-187[View Page 186-187] 86 FIFTY YEARS AGO. came, " I must not be a child. I sha other letter by and by; and mother s repay my uncle's kindness, by attend wishes. He will not .like it, to see r homesick." When Laura came into the room, sh intently reading the letter the second more composure.. "Come Grace," sai ing out her watch, "it is almost time fo want to hear all about Beechford, bu obliged to content myself with what until dinner is over." Grace sprang up quite gaily, and w soon as Laura to go down stairs. I room, and the table, and Ralph looked* did last year. It might be only yest she left it, only Ernest was not there; b ner and the day went on, and at an every body in the house was asleep. ll have an- iys I must ing to his ie sad and. found her time, with d she, tak- r dinner. I : I shall be you know as, ready as 'he dining- just as they erday since gut the din- early hour CHAPTER XIV. THE NEW HOME. HEN Grace opened her eyes the next morn-. te fing, Mrs. Clark had been in and lighted the fire. Sl ei had thrown open the blinds and let the sun in through the curtains. The room had a very cheerful aspect, and there, in the corner, was . her trunk, the most attractive thing on which her eye rested. She got up quietly, not intending to waken Laura, but in a few moments she sprang. up, exclaiming, "Grace! where are you? I was just dreaming that I got up and could not find you any- where. Father and mother were looking and call- ing, and finally somebody told us that Annie sent for you in that letter, and you had gone home. I was so grieved and indignant that it woke me, and when I saw your place empty, I did not know but you had gone." "No, I anm not quite so uncertain in my move- ments as th t," said Grace; "I shall take daylight, when I run away." " When did Mrs. Clark open these blinds? That is always y signal for rising. I do not suppose breakfast w 11 be one minute later, for all the long ride we have taken. I have no doubt father has (Ix87) . . tf i y r2 i page: 188-189[View Page 188-189] x88 FIFTY YEARS AGO. been out on horseback a full hour this morning I don't believe he was ever tired in his life." " I was wondering how you ever knew wh n it was time to get up. At home, the children are always awake so early that I depend on them." "You, will find Mrs. Clark equal to a host of chil- dren. She never gives me any peace when she thinks it really time for me to get up. She always .lets in the sun as soon as the fire is kindled." As soon as the girls had completed their morn- ing toilette, Laura proposed they should go down stairs. "Father always comes into the back parlor, after his ride, and he .considers it a great omission if I am not there." Colonel Winthrop looked quite satisfied when he saw the two girls waiting to receive his good- morning. The keen, frosty air had given a glow of health and cheerfulness to his face, and his smile was most gracious as he remarked on the benefits of the morning air. "If you want to keep young and vigorous," said he, "never lie in bed in the morning." Grace remembered that she had always been ac- quainted with this same morning air, and she thoughtof it at that moment reddening the cheeks of her young, healthy brothers as they were about their morning tasks. When Mrs. Winthrop came-down, breakfast was served, the coffee came steaming from a massive silver urn, and Grace was again reminded of her last year's admiration for the beautiful table service.. She thought of it in contrast to their own at home, but affection so gilded that plain,.unmatched set FIFTY YEARS -AGO. . 89 in daily use there, that it did not lose one particle of its dignity in her estimation. CoJonel Winthrop never made haste over break- fast, dinner o tea; his time was. so much at his disposal that he could arrange its expenditure to suit his own convenience. Grace. was. so much accustomed to dispatch, particularl-y in the morn- ing, that she could hardly feel content to sit so long only for breakfast. This ended, Laura sat down to hear how the piano sounded after its long silence. Grace was a very ready listener; but Laura, after playing a few times, said, ." Come, Grace, we must proceed to business. . Don't expect to see us again until din- ner, mother," said she, as she went gaily up-stairs. "Unless I tell you that'my trunk from New York has arrived, and you want some of the things that are in it." '-' That, of course, might induce us out of our retreat. ut has it come ?" "Yes, it as here before we were, but you must not come down at present. I 'am too tired to open it. I am going to get rested before I do any-- thing." Mrs. Clark :had put the room in oruer while the young ladies were down -stairs. Two easy- chairs were drawn cozily up before the fire, and the whole room had a most inviting aspect.. " No use for easy -chairs this morning," said Laura. "We must get ready to live first." It did, indeed, prove a very busy morning. Bureau drawers were emptied and re-arranged, and plenty of room made .for Grace... Summer 5 L .' f , ' 4 ' , page: 190-191[View Page 190-191] 190 FIFTY YEARS AGO. apparel was packed away and winter things un- packed and brought out. Grace had no longer any use for her. trunk, so she regretfully saw it put away ip a store-room in the attic. At last, everything had a place-the easy-chairs were one at each window, a table standing between them. Laura had produced a' basket well sup- plied with sewing materials, which she placed on Grace's side of the table. "You see I knew the habits of your busy fingers," said she, "and here is amusement for them." The morning had gone so fast, that, before they knew it, dinner-time came. Grace had read over her letter from home, but she had been so interested in her busy morning that she had not felt the dreadful homesick feeling which so troubled her the afternoon before. At dinner, Colonel Winthrop said the horses were too tired to go out to-day, so they would dis- pense with their ride if Mrs. Winthrop felt so dis- posed. " I am too tired myself," said she. "I feel as if I had had riding enough to last for a long time, and shall esteem it quite a privilege to stay in the house. The girls can walk if they reed exer- cise." "We are something like you, mother too tired. to need.it. -.Besides, we have seen so much lately, we prefer quiet and rest for a day or two." After dinner, the girls went with Mrs. Winthrop to her room to examine the contents of the trunk. Grace found that a beautiful blue cashmere dress' J FIFTY YEARS AGO. 191 and sundry collars, handkerchiefs and ribbons had someway got in there for her. Laura had ascrim- son cashmere to match the blue one. "My brurtte and my blonde," said Mrs. Win- throp, "are represented in these two dresses." Grace adinired her's very much; and, as she passed her hand over the soft material, she asked her aunt if she could not cut and make it herself. "No, child, you want it at once ; Laura's dress- maker will do it." "I wish, aunt, you knew h w nicely I can fit myself. I shall have so much time for sewing. I am sure I must have something to do." "Time wiil get away faster than you imagine; but you need a pretty morning dress ;" and Mrs. Winthrop went to her wardrobe, and, after search- ing for few minutes, took down a handsome one of her own. "Here is a dress which I was unfor- tunate enough to upset ink on the front breadth ; you may take it, and, leaving out that breadth, make it over! for yourself, taking one of Laura's for a pattern. ;Here is plenty of new material for. waist and'sleeves." Grace's "thank you,"-was very genuine,,for she had begun to wonder what occupation she should have. he had been so used to a busy life that she easily imagined Boston, with nothing in it for her to do, ould be very dull. The twilight hour, again, brought visions of home. She strove to be cheerful, but she'was not sorry when she could go to sleep and dream of the life she had left, and which seemed to her now must be always fresh and beautiful. I j 'I . e, J i. ' \' 1 { 17 YI 1 1i mot. ' ., - Ott page: 192-193[View Page 192-193] FIFTY YEARS AGO. 193 FIFTY YEARS AGO. The next day was cold and wintry, but Grace did not heed it much, she was so bisy with her needle. The morning dress was f st assuming shape ; and, before her aunt thought such a thing possible, the young lady presented, herself most be- comingly arrayed in it. Grace had been in Boston nearly two weeks, and was sitting at twilight in her room thinking of home, and wishing she could hear fro the when Laura came smiling in. " Suppose I were a fairy," said she, 'what would you ask me to bring you." "A letter from home," said Grace. "Granted. HMere is a letter fro Ernest; he writes very well,'' said she, glancing at the address as she handed it to her cousin." Grace took the letter eagerly, bu the moment her eye rested on it her deep blush drew Laura's attention. "All that over a letter from Ernest! I am afraid I must call you to an account for this; but you shall have a fair chance to enjoy it while I go and try a piece of music which came this afternoon.' Grace went to' the window, and, with a beating heart broke the seal. It was, indeed, a letter from Doctor Allerton, written so full of pleasant things, that she smiled, involuntarily as she read. Not an allusion to any thing that occurred he afternoon before she left. He told her of ho e, and of his own doings, in a way that held her an attentive reader to the end, and made her tur the sheet to see if, in some corner, she could not find another morsel. Hes' from A gave h not su much was en She m necess Afte a quie- p piano, came a any qu The were n room. the ev said : " would "Fr said sh did no Doctor " Yo " He she had into hiu him?" "Yes If I an to writ " t oke of her journeyas- he had heard of it hnie, and threw out suggestions which r subject-matter for an answer.. She had posed a letter from him could give her so leas re ; but it came from home, and that ough, she thought, to insure its welcome. nt ba k to the fire and sat down amusingly. st tl Laura of the letter, but she need not rily tell her what led to its being written. while she went down-stairs with a sense of [easure filling her heart. Laura was at the nd gave her a very inquiring look as, she nd stood beside her, but she did not ask estions. e were guests at evening, and the two girls ot alone again until they went up to their They sat awhile talking over the events of ing, then Grace opened her drawer and Here is my letter from _ Beechford, Laura, ou like to read it ?" m Beechford! Oh, yes. Hugh Allerton !" e, glancing at the signature. "Grace, you tell me this. Did you expect a letter from Allerton ?" can read-it and judge for yourself." writes as well as he talks," said Laura, after finished it, "but really, Grace, what put it head. Did he ask yo ' to correspond with but I am sure I can never interest him. wer that I do not believe he will ever care again." ought Ernest said he was engaged. I do 9 l' Y92 ' f page: 194-195[View Page 194-195] 194 FIFTY YEARS AGO. not think he can be or he would not letters after you. Well, he is a gentle and very intelligent, and if he lived i would not mind his letters now and t am too selfish to want you to have an~ terest in Beechford." "No special interest in Beechford! X it's all the world to me." 4(Just now, you tpean. But you mus in by degrees, as I have no doubt yo you get really interested in the pleasant know." The girls grew very social and con their warm hearth-stone, until Laura, her watch, said : "This will never do,- almost twelve, we must not speak an to-night." How well they adhered to that wise, will leave those to judge who have bee tempted ; only they were very silent w clock on the landing struck one. So far there had been a good deal c incident to their return from a long vi making, receiving calls, and getting rea ter, had filled up all of the time. Then came Tharksgiving, a feast wh Winthrop always s mptuously observed belong to any of the festal days which loved so well. Sloe missed her grand grandmother, her father and mother, and Annie, and -all the children. S church with her unable, aunt and cousin, diving was not there. She came dow I be sending man, Grace, n Boston, I en. But I special in- hy, Laura, let Boston will when people we fading ovet looking at race, it .is there word esolution I n similarly en the old f confusion it. Dress- dy for win- ch Colonel- , It did not Grace had father and and Ernest e went to but Thanks-. n into the parlor dozjn ful She F share She tried but h at hoi dear f she ki ed her perfe never ing th that s that w the h Thi ever b and ft recoll of pra a part her u forge then s much know has a have gone FIFTY YEARS AGO. 195 r with Laura and was presented to the half guests assembled, and listened to their cheer- erry voices, but Thanksgiving was not there. )ok her place at the sumptuous table and her in its feast, but that was not Thanksgiving. was very lovely in, her blue cashmere, and to be polit and attentive to those about her; er though s kept going back to her old seat me. She thought of the long table, and the aces gathered round it just one year ago, and new how they wanted her to-day. She miss- gr.andfather's prayer, so full of tenderness and t trust in the Giver of every good. She had thought before how much of her Thanksgiv- at prayer had beeA, and she did not now realize : much of the charm of her home-life lay in onderful, beautiful trust, which went up from' arts of her parents, to their Father in heaven. s was the first time in her life that she had )een absent from home on such an occasion, st clinging to her heart, among its tenderest actions, was the consciousness that thevoice yer sweetened the feast, even more, wa's itself of the Thanksgiving. She wondered how ncle, so kind and generous 'as he was, could to return thanks on such 'an occasion; but he never heard him pray. He was not very like her father after all. race," ,said Laura, touching her, "I did not you were ever absent-minded. Mr. Sinclair asked yo4i twice, some question, to which you paid not the slightest attention. Have you to Beechford ?" page: 196-197[View Page 196-197] t96 FIFTY YEARS AGO. Graced roused very quickly at this, and turning to Mr. Sinclair made a truthful.apology, that she was thinking very strongly of .home, but she had conie back now, and would promise to be very at- tentive in future. She enjoyed the music, and re- sponded very heartily to her uncle's smile, when he told her how glad he was to have some, repre- sentative from Beqchford at. his Thanksgiving table. After Thanksgiving the odd routine of the house- hold seemed.established. Colonel Winthrop's uni- formity was unconsciously felt in all the family regulations. After breakfast Laura usually prac- ticed, while Grace read,-or sewed or wrote, just as she fancied. Then, if they had shopping, they went out, but were expected to be at home by twelve, the hour for driving in winter. They were usually at home again a little after one, in time to dress for dinner. Mrs. Winthrop remained in the parlor after that, and expected the young ladies to sit with her. They usually had some light sewing or embroidery. Then Grace often thought of her mother's mending-basket, and felt almost reproach- ed when she remembered how much she must be needed to take stitches which were necessarily added to her mother's and Annie's already filled up time. Mrs. Winthrop and Laura had a large circle of acquaintances, so th t they usually had calls after dinner. Wednesday afternoon Mrs. Winthrop made calls. Of course Grace was soon included in their list of friends, and began to go out with them. After tea they had music. Colonel Winthrop al- I I (' s r; 'sj z FIFTY YEARS .AGO. '97 way the ave elig yven raci he i all It in on a came ier to- cl reaci ei t i e ! vhic say hic with uite ort were etur uch ker f essi elf l As ome ut enjoyed this walking back and forth through parlors with his hands folded behind his back. ce enjoyed this too, for she loved music,- and to a piano for, a constant companion was really htful. Then there was quite a number of ing callers. Laura Winthrop was very at- ive, and her pretty cousin did not diminish clination which certain of her friends had to s often as seemed desirable. was a generally understood fact, that Colonel :hrop would expect to be well pleased before ould consent to bestow his daughter's hand ny man. So far his wishes and hers had never in collision in that respect. She enjoyed pleasant circle of friends, but was in no haste ange her present mode of life. She had. not hed twenty years without abundant opportu- for coquetry ; but this was not an element in h she took any special pleasure. She was and bright, but she had a real, living heart, [ craved strong, healthful nourishment. Now Grace for e companion, she would have been. content to i1ake home-pleasures her chief joy he winter; but she knew her father's ideas different. She must accept invitations and n them. Here again Grace was going to be a comfort, she could trust her any where, for orgetfulness of self gave her, a quiet, self-pos- n, aniher tact and quick ability to adapt her- o any occasion, made her very reliable . the days went on Grace grew more accus- d to her new life, and enjoyed it very much. the " well-spring" of home was ever fresh and ,' page: 198-199[View Page 198-199] 198 FIFTY YEARS AGO. glowing in her heart,.and when a letter ca e, her. gladness was child-like in its expression. She had. answered Doctor Allerton's letter finding it not such a difficult task as she had anticipated. Her journey furnished themes enough. His second letter had been even more acceptable than t e first, it 'seemed less like a stranger. On the whole, thirst- ing for home news as she was, the arrangement might be a very good one, since it involved not the least obligation on either side. Ernest had written, but he was very bush. He. was teaching again, and reciting by himself to Doc- tor Allerton, of whom he spoke in term of in- creasing respect and confidence. He missed Grace every where ; it seemed to him that all Beechford was lonely without her. Annie, out of the multi- tude of her cares, wrote very seldom. She wrote cheerfully, but Grace always felt a little sad after reading her letters. .She thought of her o vn leis- ure, and Annie's busy hours, and still shecculd not see how she could help it. Once she spoke of this to Laura. A few days after Laura came up-stair's with a large roll of linen in her arms. "Here, Grace," said she, "is a present from mother to you, to mak up for Annie, it will gladden your sisterly heart, I know, and give you an idea that you are doing so ebody some good. I will help you sew, now ou hands are full, and we do not care how often it storms." Grace was delighted, now she could inde d help Annie. "You will have to be my scholar, Laura, for in plain sewing j know that I could teaci you." "Mrs. Clark will think you more wonderful than eve: say she she sen5 " vel wha Ho mea her, wer laug cou B exp beg her in a mid had twic FIFTY YEARS AG?. r, when she sees you presiding over this. She you are one of the most sensible young' ladies ever saw. Common-sense is her hobby. And has at last found a young lady with common e." Mother's teachings all have a tendency to de- p. that," said Grace, laughing. "I wonder t Mrs. Clark would say to dear, practical Annie. v kind in your mother, Laura, to give me the ns of pleasing her so much, and really helping too." And the tears of affection and gratitude e filling Grace's eyes in a moment. Now, that is not, common sense, as I define it, hing and crying at the same time," said her ;id; "and all over apiece of linen." ut the laughing and crying was a relief, and dressed just what Grace felt. She wanted to n to cut out her work at once, but Laura told that it was time to get ready for their ride, and short time they were gliding away in the clear -day air, over the newly fallen snow, and Grace only time that day to open her drawer once or ;e. to assure herself that her treasure was safe. R ^ , 11 199 page: 200-201[View Page 200-201] CHAPTER XV. HOW THE DAYS WENT ON.' . rp HE sewing was like a charm to Grace, and T the days flew on rapidly, until the earl part of January had come. She sat by the bright, cheerful fire sewing and thinking when Laura came up from practicing. "Here, Miss Grace," said she, "see what is expected of you. Mrs. Marshall has sent invitations for a party next week. So you will have to lay asides your practical work, and set about preparing for t e occasion.". i Oh, Laura ! I can' go ; I have n't any th ng to wear, besides -" S" Not another wor I; Colonel Winthrop will not excuse you, unless you are sick in bed. The Marshall's are his special friends, and go you must. And by way of encouragement, let me tell you' this is only the beginning of a series." "'Oh, Laura !" Laura laughed. "Mother is going out this morning to get you a dress." "Let me wear one of your old ones." "No, Miss Grace, I shall not agree to that; you are to be new entirely. Mother says she shall shop (zoo) I, FIFTY YEARS AGO. this morning, and we can go oi not, as we please." "I'll stay-at home, then.. I had rather aunt woulld select what she pleases without asking me." "And I will go; so you- may sit in expectancy until our return." Laura was -soon ready, and accompanied .her mother out, while Grace sewed on and wondered if going to parties would be half as, pleasant as their social evenings at home. When Laura returned, she placed in her cousin's hands a roll, with her mother's compliments. Grace open d it and discovered a dress-pattern, of rich, white silk.. She surveyed it with afeeling akin to dismay. It was more elegant than she. ever saw for a bride to wear, and now she was to be arrayed in it for an evening party! " When you recover sufficiently, I should like to show you mine," said her cousin, highly amused at the expression of her speaking face. Opening her package, she, displayed a dress of the same mate- rial, only it was pink.- "Are you relieved by seeing this ?" "Yes ; that' seems so beautiful and proper for you, but I think I should have a less costly mate- rial." "Don't criticise your aunt's taste," said Laura. "Shemight not like it, you'know; she has engaged the dress-maker to come to-morrow, so behold yourself arrayed ! Will you take a pocket-hand- kerchief to-hem,.you queer, old-fashioned body, or will you spend the evening.at Mrs. Marshall's, just as I ave had to spend a great nany. I'm so glad ,4 n . 201 page: 202-203[View Page 202-203] 202 FIFTY YEARS AGO. mother has somebody to, fix besides me, and that that somebody is you, Grace Winthrop." The dressmaking was accomplished and every- thing in readiness for the party. The evening was clear and cold, and the two girls were in their' room dressing. Grace's beautiful hair had a way of its own, which Laura. always insisted should be followed in dressing it. Her cheeks wer rosy with health, and her violet eyes were full f ex- pression. She was taller than Laura, th two formed a striking contrast.. Laura's pink silk and flowers of the same hue in her jet black hai were very becoming. "Here, Grace," said she, "you must wear my pearls to-night; they are all you need to complete your dress." "Pearls, Laura! I think I have on borrowed plumage enough ; please do not add your beautiful pearls. I shall surely lose them ; besides, I've got into the mist of fairy land again. I expect all my fine things may vanish at any moment." "Grace Winthrop, you are a queer girl; you will appear in Mrs. Mar hall's .drawing-room to- night as if you had worh white silk always; and my pearls will seem 'to de honored by your wear- ing them. I think father must have been thinking of you when he bought them. I admire them very much, but they are too fair for me. I must see them on you to-night. I am sure you will wear them to please me." "Yes, to please you; but if I lose them?" I will take the blame, then." So Laura clasped the pearls about her cousin s neck and arms, and FIFTY YEARS AGO. 203 smiled in quiet satisfaction t9 see how well they became her. The mirror reflected a lovely picture, as Grace stoo before it to see the effect of Laura's pearls, and just at that moment she remembered a verse her mother gave her to learn once when she was a little girl and had shown strong symp- toms of vanity: "Whose adorning, let it not be that outward adorning of plaiting the hair, and of wearing of gold, or of putting on of apparel; but let it be the hidden man of the heart." It came like a gentle, friendly whisper, and seemed to give the outward adornment its real place. The principles of internal beauty, in which she had been so thor- oughly trained, asserted their supremacy and quenched the uprisings of vanity. She knew that her dress was rich and becoming, and she admired it, but she knew that it was not herself. Mrs. Marshall's drawing-room was brilliant with the guests .assembled there, the very lite of the city Colonel Winthrop was always one of the last to arrive on such occasions, for the sole reason that being obliged to stay until a proper hour for leav- ing, he shortened the time while he had it in his control. An hour later in his arrival, made an hour less to stay. He liked dinner parties; but he only endured evening parties because .he wished his wife and daughter to observe the customs of society. Mrs. Winthrop was conscious of chaperoning two. very pretty girls; and enjoyed the attention they received. T~o Grace the scene was novel and interesting.. She enjoyed it in perfect unconscious. ness of the pleasing impressions. she was making. 4 + + ,5 fS ' Vl. t :r + 1 ' i ,. ' page: 204-205[View Page 204-205] FIFTY YEARS AGO. She forgot her white silk dress,.and even Laura's pearls, in' listening to and observing the people about her; nor was she deficient in her share of conversation. Shehad met Henry Marshall and several other of'the gentlemen at her uncle's house. She had met all of Laura's particular lady friends, so she was not quite a stranger. She designed to keep as near Laura as possible, but they were often unavoidably separated ; then her quick perceptive faculties proved verge reliable friends. During the evening she was introduced to a Mr. Lenox, who like herself had lately come to Boston. He was a nephew of Mrs. Marshall and had just commenced practicing law. - He attached. himself particularly .to her, quite to the annoyance, Laura thought, of some who called themselves older friends. The evening had its variety of amusement and entertainment and quickly wore away. Colonel Winthrop was as sure to be the first to go as he had been the last to come. His friends laughed at what they termed his "military precision," but' that never moved his purpose. "It is time to go,' Mrs. Winthrop," wasthe sig: nal for that lady, without undue haste, to assemble her forces and be ready to leave. Henry Marshall and Mr. Lenox were waiting to escort the young ladies to the carriage. "Well, Grace !" said Colonel Winthrop, on their Way home, "how have you enjoyed your first party in:Bostonb?" "Very much, uncle; it seemed to me something like a moving picture and I as looking on." " I think you more than looked on," said tr , 204 FIFTY YEARS AGO. 205 Lau. "Ernest would say you made a figure in it." "I do not 'qdite understand who that Mr. Lenox was, Laura," said her father. "He is a nephew of Mrs. Marshall's, a young [awyer lately come to Boston. Mrs. Marshall in- troduced him to us." " Oh!.very well.", And Laura knew her father was satisfied so far. When they reached home the girls went directly to their room, where they found i cheerful fire, and Mrs. Clark asleep in an easy :hair. i She was a faithful old sentinel; and after luly admiring -the young ladies, and putting up :heir wrappers, she left them to get warm before ;hey went to bed. " Here are your pearls, Laura," said Grace, as ;he carefully replaced them in the jewel case. ":I im h ppy to return them safe and sound, and to ay that they did not keep me in an anxious state ill the evening. My attention was so occupied vith he people about me that I forgot all about hem.' "I knew you would; but I saw.them now and hen, Ind was so glad I made you wear them; if hey were as becoming to me, I should not leave hem shut up in their case at home. You must vear them again sometime; but tell me how do ou like our Boston ladies in full dress. You had very :good specimen this evening. I was smiling .t yo4 r thoughts half cf the time. Now I want to ear them expressed." " O, Laura! some things were so funny I felt ike la'4ghing outright ; how I should have shocked 4 r t i t c k 1x 1 page: 206-207[View Page 206-207] FIFTY YEARS AGO. the people if I had ! I saw some ladies there to- night who were all made up, of fine clothes; it seemed to me that they laughed when there was nothing to laugh at, and talked when they had nothing to say. I saw a lady hanging on Mr. Rexford's arm., who reminded me so strongly of one of the pictures on Aunt Lois's fan that Ilwas half a mind to shake - hands with her, for old ac- quaintance sake. I saw some very pretty ones too, and some beautiful dresses." "Did you see much of Lizzie M rshall ?" "Yes, and I liked her very much." "How.did you like the gentlemen-Mr. Lenox, for instance ?" "Very well; I think he is very agreeable." "Do you like Henry Marshall ?" "Yes, I do; better than ,any of your gentlemen acquaintances; he seems to me frank and sin ere, like Ernest." "How does he compare with Robert 9ak- ley?" "I like him better. You know I did not much of Robert Oakley, but I think I should ways like Henry Marshall best. I am so usei Ernest's manly ways that I do not fancy pe who say so many things which I am sure t cannot mean." "Do you call Robert Oakley a flatterer?" "Perhaps that is not just what I should call Ih I should believe Henry Marshall when I shc not believe Robert. Oakley ; but, Laura, what you looking so sober about, and what do you th of my coming out of white silk and putting see al- I to ople hey im. uld are ink on 206 r som thing better suited to 'going right to bed,' as Auntie told us to when we came up-stairs?" Laura roused herself and began to lay aside her dres . "I is such a luxury to have, somebody to go out with me and then come home and chat over a nice fire," said she, "that I shall forget to go to bed at all by-and-by." It took Grace some time to get asleep after she and Laura had said good-night. She was thinking of the last winter evenings, where they all met in Mrs. Lee's sitting-room and recited to Dr. Aller- ton. She was very happy then, and as she went over the scenes - and contrasted them with .this evening, she fell asleep and knew no more of the joys and sorrows of life until Mrs. Clark opened the linds and let in a full tide of morning light. H nry Marshall and Mr. Lenox were guests at Col nel Winthrop's house the next evening after Mrs. Marshall's party; indeed, from that time they were often there. Mrs. Marshall's party was, as Laura had said, only the beginning of a series. More new dresses were purchased, until Grace found herself in possession of quite an extensive wardrobe. She had persuaded her aunt to dis- pense with the dress-maker beyond fitting. She proved herself so skillful and capable with her nee- dle, that Mrs. Winthrop was quite satisfied with its results. Her time was now fully occupied ; they. rarely had an evening to themselves. If they were at. home, .Henry Marshall or Mr. Lenox or Mr. Rexford were there, sometimes all three at once: CQlonel Winthrop enjoyed their music and conver- FIFTY YEARS AGO. 207 page: 208-209[View Page 208-209] 208 FIFTY YEARS AGO. sation, and Mrs. Winthrop, in her easy chair, always an entertaining hostess. One evening the early partlof February, they were all at a pa at Mrs. Sinclair's. .Grace had been listening tc entertaining account of some of Mr, Lenox's trav when she bethought her of Laura and proposed go and look her up. Mr. Lenox rallied her on' great devotion to her cousin, remarking at same time that she was standing nearly oppo them in the next room apparently quite interes in conversation with a gentleman who was stranger to him. Grace looked over that way a was quite surprised to see Robert Oakley. La caught her eye that moment and nodded. "It is a friend of her's whom we 'met in N York," said Grace. "They are coming this wa Mr. Oakley's greeting was very cordial. had come to Boston for a few days to see his "friends. He met Mr. Sinclair soon after his arrive and Mrs. Sinclair had sent him an invitation come to her house that evening. He was very att tive to both of the young ladies. Grace did r quite understand it, but she thought Laura v not as lively as usual, and once or twice detail her near her, for some very trifling reason. Cc nel Winthrop left earlier than usual. On th way home, he said, rather sternly, "Laura, did expect to meet Robert Oakley at Mrs. Sinclair's "No,.sir; I did not know when he was comic to Boston.". "Well, it's a foolish thing this, for people to traveling about.in winter. Better stay at home, Laura knew very well that " people," in vas in rty an rels to her the site ted a nd ira ew y. Fle old ral, to En- ot ras ed lo- eir ou ?"9 ng , case meant Robert Oakley; and the "foolishness," i her father's mind, was his probable errand. Until their visit, in New York, she had never t ougit of any closer friendship between Robert akle and herself than had always existed. At times, Isince then, she had not felt, quite so sure- perhaps not quite so sure of herself either-at I ast, until recently. She had seen so much of Henry Marshall, during the winter, that she had come to regard him as a very pleasant friend. race- had unconsciously drawn them together. She had from the first liked him; because he was in some .things, she fancied, after the manner of Ernes". To be "like Ernest," Laura knew meant as high a. compliment as Grace could pay, and Grace had such an instinctive insight into charac- ter, that Laura found herself influenced by her more than she could have thought possible. To-:bight, when they were seated by their. own glowing fire, ready to talk over the events of the evenirig, Laura's face wore a troubled look, and' she poked the fire in a restless sort of way, as if she hoped to rouse up something cheering from its embers. .What a dreadfllyunsatisfactory fire that is;' said Grace, laughing. ell, don't you know the fire has been 'my companion. I've had to think to it, and talk to it, befor I had you, and I forget sometimes. Grace, do you rememberI told you, in New York, that I was glad we were coing home, to avoid any diffi- culty about Robert Oakley ?" Yvs." FIFTY YEARS AGU. 2 page: 210-211[View Page 210-211] 210 FIFTY YEARS AGC "Well, I am very sorry he has come to Bos now. Did you see how coldly father met him, we used to be such pleasant friends ?" " Why does your father dislike him ?" "Do you remember the night we came f Mrs. Marshall's party, you told me you.should lieve Henry Marshall when you should not beli Robert Oakley ?" . "I had forgotten it; but I should, Laura." "I think that is what father means, though manner of telling me was so different, that it m me think he did -him great injustice." " Do you like Robert Oakley ?" "Yes, and no. I did like him when I saw in New York. I mean, I was pleased with him "Until you liked somebody else better; an do I. Don't blush, Laura. I know how very tentive our friend Henry is. I think uncle li' him, too, for he told me the other day that He Marshall was a man to be trusted." " I have very pleasant remembrances of Rob Oakley," said' Laura, "and I hope I am mista in the reason of his coming to Boston ; but, fr O some things he' 'said to-night, I suppose' I amn He asked me to ride with him to-morrow mor ing, and I declined; but I promised to see 'hi home. So yoi have got to ride with father wit out me, and excuse me to him in some satisfact way-a task v hich I do not envy you." ' 'I don't know; Laura. Uncle is so. stern, wh things displease him. If Robert Oakley of e himself to you, do you expect to accept him ?" "No, Grace, I do not. I never gave him ton and om be- eve his ade im so at- Kes .ry ert en )m ot. rn- at th-' ry en rs 1 reaso _ to suppose I did. When I met him in New York I hardly knew what to think of myself or him ither, but I am convinced now that we can never be any thing but .friends. I think he was disappointed in my lack of pleasure at meeting him this evening. -I did not mean to be unkind, but I was sorry h6 had come." "I do not see any great difficulty in getting along with uncle, since you are going, to do just what he wants you to." " I had rather ie would never know that his sure prophecy w s fulfilled ; but I will leave the management to you. I feel better, now that I have told you what tr9 ubles me, and a little sleep, if I can get it, will ma ke me better still." The next day, at the usual hour for riding, Grace came down stairs alone, and met her uncle just buttoning up his overcoat in the hall. "Where is' Laura," said he. "She wishes yqu would excuse her, uncle. She wants to stay at home to-day." "Isn't she going out at all?" " No, sir; not if you will excuse her." "I am glad you are ready,.and willing to take the fresh air. our aunt has a head-ache, and must go to bed; and Laura, with some new potion, must stay at ho e. We Beechford people have some energy left lo enjoy a clear winter breeze." Laura was lear ing over the baluster, listening,. in. dread, to what explanation Grace might be obliged to make. She knew her fearless, winning way was equal to an emergency, and that she would meet her father so frankly that he would 'L'ET rr" (T Z r ) c On 2)T ny ;J page: 212-213[View Page 212-213] FIfFTY YEARS AGO. FIFTY YEARS AGO. not be angry ith her. Quite satisfied with w she had heard, she went in to see her mother, was really suffering from the fatigues of the evening, and needed rest. Here she waited u rs. Clark told her that Mr. Oakley was in parlor. Leaving them to, take care of themsel e will enjoy the fresh air with Colonel Winth and his niece.. Finding.her uncle in no talking mood, Gr mused herself thinking, now and then interrup y the visible things about her. She was sud 1 aroused by her uncle saying, rather ster Grace, does. aura like Robert Oakley ?" Collecting her thoughts quickly, she said, "O ds a friend, I think." "Are you si re of what you say ?" "Yes, sir, I think so." "Do you believe she would accept him if should offer himself ?" and Colonel Winthrop lo d so sternly at her, that she was almost frighte " I do not believe she would ; I am quite cer he would not, "I think you know better than I do, but I ot like Robert Oakley. I like his father other, but h says too many foolish things. F haps he does no know it ; but h woul1 care m f r the money Laura might bring hm than ould for Laura herself. It will do for old me r st, but a young man with nothing to ito is a c t mptible thing. I have no respect for him, or t ence with him. I thought when you first c ere I would tell you that if Laura hadi any let f om Robert Oakley, you must tell me of it at ho ast til the res, rop ace ted en- ly, nly he ok- ed. ain do nd er- ore he to n~- a- me ers at once; but your aunt, knew better this time than I did, for- she advised me to let you take your own way. She thought your companionship would be of service to Laura, and so I think it has. You are on very friendly terms with Henry Marshall I observe." "Yes, sir, I like him, and I think Laura does, too. I liked him from the first, because I thought he had some ways like Ernest." "He is to be relied on, and his business habits are excellent. YoU have had such a home educa- .on, Grace, that you know what real worth is, and 1 would trust your judgment sOoner than I would some of our Boston girls." Colonel Winthrop was by this 'time in good hu- mor, evidently quite relieved by the truthful man- ner of his niece. When they reached home, he looked at his watch, and said, as they had 'nearly an hour before diner, he would drive on and walk back. Grace wen in, and as the parlor 'door was shut, she went on utp to her aunt's door and knockeI softly. There was no response, and thinking she might be sleeping, she went on to her room. Laura was not there, and after :making herself ready for dinner, she sat down to sew for Annie, thinking what a satisfactory ride she had had, and what an unsatisfactory one she might have had if she and her uncle had been in opposite interests. Just before the hour for dinner, Laura came up. stairs, looking as if she lacked the vigor which a cheerful heart anl the invigorating morning air, had given her couin. " Has Mr. Oakley gone ?" asked Grace, after waiting awhile for Laura to speak. 2131 212 . page: 214-215[View Page 214-215] 4 FIFTY YEARS AGO. t V Iti al f c b ii n e M ir h ti th ti w th " Yes, gone, and our friendship end' judge by what he says this morning. nced we never could have been happ really seemed tQ me that his pride ounded. than his heart. Perhaps father ter all. I am sorry he came. I shoul ember him as my present, early fr ther ask you why I staid at home ?" "No." "I think hey more than half stispect homes to his conclusions by obseration y inquiry.. Robert will not call' here k stays, and that will convince him th )thing going on to call for his immedi ice." There was n more time for converse rrs. Clark ca e to tell them that dinne g. Mrs. 'Winthropicarme down quite olonel Winthrop had brought home .nner, so that no allusion was made t er in which any of the family had spend go Robert Oakley was in town several c ' did not cail, Colonel Winthrop asked ons. Whatever his suspicions wer Wem to himself. He had confidence in r, knowing that she would take no de without his knowledge. Grace, with judgment, was on the right side, too; ings to take their course, while he wa: Id, if I a I am co y togeth was mc r was rig I rather: iend. E ed it. more th again wh at there te interf tion befo r was wa refresh a friend - the ma the mo ays, but d no qu ,, he -.ke his daug cided st her c1 so he l ted resu I I CHAPTER XVI. m n- er. re ht -- id He an ile is )re ait.. ed. to Ln- -n- as °s- . pt h- ep ar eft ts. DEVELOPMENTS. f NE morning, few weeks after the events mentioned in the last chapter, Grace had been out alone to buy some of the innumerable trimmings which her aunt deemed necessary for an eveni g dress. She had finished her errand, and was r turning, hen she met Mr. Lenox. He turned and joined her in her walk. The day was fine, and the sleighing excellent. He proposed calling for her after dinner to take a ride. "If Laura has no engagements, I think we can go," said Grace. "Your cousin is a very agreeable companion, Miss Winthrop; but for once I would like to see how you appear separately. If you have no objec- tions, I will only extend my invitation to you this time." . Grace thanked him and accepted, feeling half afraid she had done wrong. She never went.out without Laura, and if her uncle should happen to fancy that it was not desirable for her to do so, she had certainly got herself into trouble. Mr. Lenox; of late, had been very attentive. Doctor Allerton (._I3) ,. ' , , if. 4;} .. .. _ .s .;r' ... t.. page: 216-217[View Page 216-217] 216 FIFTY YEARS AGO. had awakened her from her unsuspe She could not be insensible to the fac nox seemed to enjoy her society. V so often found herself contrasting ti men? and Why was it that, once whe ticularly enjoyed Mr. Lenox's societ Doctor Allerton brought home and all so freshly to her mind? She did not accept this invitation without it inc but considering the intimacy betwe family and t ie Marshall's, and her ow with Mr. Lenox, she thought it wou to refuse. When she reached home, ly up-stairs to tell Laura. "You di right to accept; father he likes Mr Lenox." At the difner-table Laura mention vitation. "iYou will go, of course," smiling approvingly, and she was at that was concerned. Mr. Lenox called for her after din ly wrapped) they glided swiftly ov snow, on their way to Charlestown. people were out enjoying the clear sunshine, arnd the fine sleighing. Th hilaration in the life and activity of rama through which they passed, a more as she used too when she was cheerfulnese was always .contagious, panion grew more and more conv young lad2 who had so pleased h rounded by a gay throng, was far by herself. acting dr t that M Thy was ie two g n she ha , a letter its attra really c luded en her n acquai ld be im she ran earns. r. Le.. it she entle- par- from tions re to aura; ncle's tance polite quick- will like it, for d Grac aid her rest so, er, ands r the s .A great air, the 1 ere was the gay nd Grac t home. and her nced th im, when more plh 's in-. uncle, far as. warm- mooth rany bright an ex- pano- e felt Her com- at the sur-. asing I FIFTY YEARS AGO.: 217 "Shall we take a look at Bunker Hill? It seems to be the attractive spot just now." "Any where you please," said Grace. "I please to ride," said Mr. Lenox, laughing, "and just now Bunker Hill seems the most famil- iar spot I can remember." "I forgot you are a new-homer,' said Grace, " and perhaps do not know the drives about Bos- ton as well as I do. Uncle considers riding part of our daily business; so we get very familiar with the beautiful views in the whole vicinity. He minds the cold very little, and fresh airis his rem- edy for every thing. Laura says she and auntie ought to be order-loving, for they have had good military training ever since she can remem- ber." I suppose your uncle owes his good health to his uniform exercise," said Mr. Lenox. "Uncle Marshall tells me he was a man of great energy and constant-activity. The change from a busi- ness-life to one of comparative rest must be very trying to such a person.' Unconsciously, then, Grace spoke of her father and of home until she almost forgot that her at-. tentive listener was so lately a stranger. It was enough for Mr. Lenox to watch the kind- ling, glowing face of the young girl beside him as she spoke of Ernest, an the many rides she had had with him,coasting nd sleighing and on horse- back. Before they knew it, they had reached: Bunker Hill; and, from the heights, they, saw.the sunpgo down, throwing faint, wintery gleams over the 10 page: 218-219[View Page 218-219] 218 FIFTY YEARS AGO. spires an roofs of Boston, and t] back, cha ing gaily all the way. -" Our r de has been a wondero Miss Win hrop. I made an office fore I met you this morning, or I triotic enough to visit Bunker H leaving ydu at your home." "Boston furnishes a greater va said Grace. " We need .not feel the same Iide twice in the same a had rather be at home before tea." "May I hope you have enjoyed to -repeat t ?". "Doubtless I shall again to-morr laughing. " Uncle is very fond Chariestovn-that old battle-groui spot to hiW." "I did Aot ask you to ride with less you chodse to associate that with my name. On the whole, I d it would be a good idea ; it woul sponsible office to fill, and involve ride with me whenever I choose te I adopt it on these-terms ?" Grace as amused at the turn h evasive a swer ; but the truth we ton had opened her eyes, and she go out with Mr. Lenox unless he v or Lizzie Marshall. "Here we are at your uncle's come for you again sometime ?" "I can iot promise. I do not Laura." 11~ en they drove usly short one, engagement be- should feel pa- ill 'again before riety than that," bliged to take afternoon; but I the ride enough ow," said Grace, of driving to ad is a charmed your uncle un- privileged title o not know but d be quite a re- your consent to ask you. Shall e had given her s Doctor Aller- did not care to ould ask Laura door. May I go out without FIFTY YEARS AGO. She saw that her answer did not please him.. In her own sweet way, she quickly added, "I have had a very pleasant rid , Mr. Lenox, and shall hope to see ±ou soon." "Perhaps I ought not to have said that,' thought she, as she stood waiting for Ralph to let her in. She went directly to her room to lay aside her' wrappings and get warm before going down to the parlor. She felt troubled. An undefined sense of something real, into which she must enter, was somewhere in the distance--.a feeling akin to that which one might have in watching a net-work weaving about him without consenting to the pro- cess and yet seeming to have no power to escape. She stood thinking so intently that she forgot how near the tea-hour was until she heard Mrs. Clark coming to look for her. .Turning, to pick up her handkerchief, which she had laid on the table, she saw a letter directed to her lying there. She took it up and recognized Doctor Allerton's writing. How strange it is! Doctor Allerton always comes in collision with Mr. Lenox.- Here I find him waiting for me; and with a sense of gladness and relief she put it ii he po ket and went downs stairs. "Why !" said Laura," did not know you had come in. Have you been at home long ?" " ot long ; only time enough to get warm." " You look as if the air had done you good," said\her uncle. "You haia fine ride, I suppose." After tea, Grace joined Laura at the piano. Go and read your letter if you want to," said 219 . 11 page: 220-221[View Page 220-221] rpr N . tir y I t !tier ;"L a 7 1 I !I t f, . I FIFTY YbAR9 AGO. 220 FIFTY YEARS AGO. she, in a iow voice. "I will excu necessary.' Grace t anked her silently, and room. She opened her letter with something she valued was in store read on l er ride that afternoon Doctor Al erton's peculiarly pleasi the passin events of home took he all the fres ness of a year ago.. "How Much I enjoy these letters " even Er~ est fails me here. -I al used to be afraid of Doctor Allerto me now that he must be very compt suggests that I shall manage to re hour ever day. I can, while, L and, as he says, I may never have s again. B t then he does not kno life I lead. I am sure, by and by, out so much, and then I can have comniand. I think I must waste ti thing here is so different from wha: Mother and grandmother seem to li as much as they do for Earth, anda to me, on .y thinks of earth. Per know, but I am sure there is sonc money which makes the difference two homes. Mother has a great auntie has a great many to wait c does not look so calm and peaceful4a does." And Grace fell into such gested by octor Allerton's letter, refreshed oim had he known it. She thought of him more in co -1 se you, if it is ent up to her he feeling that or her. As she all faded out. g narrative of r back there in "thought she ; nost wonder I . It seems to anionable. He ad, at least, an ura practices; o much leisure v what a busy re shall not go ore time at my me, only every it is at home. ve for Heaven untie, it seems haps I do not ething besides between these eal to, do, and, n her, but she s dear mother a" revery, sug- as would have nnection with I e Y M1 l home and its association 'than she had ever done before. He did not see to be such a "wise, old man" as she had always thought him-not that his wisdom grew lcss in he estimation, but she was becoming more' accustomed to the society of gentlemen of his age. Charlie Thorn and Edward Nelson were more like brothers. They had been school-mates from childhood, playfellows with whom she had always felt such equality. that sh could laugh and enjoy their mutual sports without remembering that she was no longer a little girl. Now it was all differ-. ent. She was brought in contact with people so much older than herself and was expected to rise to their level. Mr. Lenox was as old as Doctor Allerton;, Henry Marshall/and Mr. Rexford were older. As she grew better acquainted with these gentlemen, it had the effect of making her feel bet ter acquainted with Doctor Allerton. Her revery could not last, for her uncle would notice her absence at this hour; and as she only mentioned Ernest's and Annie's letters, she pre, ferredto give no occasion for questioning. Laura knew, by her bright expression,,that some- thing had made. her happy. " Is it Mr. Lenox or octor Allerton ?" whis- pered she, with a mischievous twinkle in her eye. "Neither," said Grace. "It is home and Beedh- ford." -Grace had learned many of her cousin's songs; their voices blended very sweetly. Colonel Win- throp was delighted with their execution. Mr. e 221 i SN .f #' + i .4 fJ it ),' : i . ? ,S page: 222-223[View Page 222-223] ~ , 4 i t, i i + s, " 4 E .,t , {} f' j . FIFTY YEARS AGO. fll Lenox played the flute and Mr. Marshall sang, so they often had musical entertainments. Mr. Lenox was not here this even ng, but Henry Marshall and Mr. Rexford were, and Laura thought her cousin's voice had caught the echo of the birds, it rang out so clear and sweet. "I never told you much about m mother's sing- ing," said Colonel Winthrop, as he paused in front of Mrs. Winthrop's chair. "Our Laura .has a sweet voice, but Grace has tones o exactly' like her grandmother that I hear her almost as dis- tinctly as I used to when I was a ittle boy; and the world held no treasure like my other." He .did not wait for Mrs. Winthrop's answer, but continued his walk, with 'his thoughts turned backward to old scenes which he had deemed all faded out. When the music ceased, he said, "Sing again. I l ve to listen to.you," and they sang on until the evening was nearly passed, before their host remembered much of present things. "Home is the pleasantest place, girls," said he, after their guests were gone and he was securing the win- dows. "I shall be glad when our evening visits are through with." "Grace and I enjoy our evenings t home," said Laura. "I think we have been out a great deal this winter.' They had, indeed, accepted more invitations than usual, ut Colonel Winthrop's abit of going late, and co ing away as soon as politeness would allow, had s vd them from very late ours.. Some- times his friends rallied him on hi early leave- taking, but he only shook his head, and..said, "I 222 FIFTY YEARS AGO. 223 approve of sociability, bu I do not approve of late hours. Besides, we go o t so often, it is necessary. to be in the habit of reaching home before morn- ing." Mr. Lenox was a ple sant friend, and always ready to attend Grace o these occasions, but she was careful not to give 'him too much opportunity. She could not define her eelings in respect to him. She certainly liked him. His pleasing address and cultivated mind made him acceptable every- where. And what of r. Lenox? -.He certainly liked Grace Winthrop. e was attracted by her face the first evening he et her at Mrs. Marshall's. The whole company were strangers to him, and he had come more in the mood to, criticise than to cultivate anybody's acquaintance. He had been introduced to several ladies before the Win- throp party arrived. He did not see them when they came in, but, in looking for Henry Marshall, he saw a beautiful girl standing near his aunt. H r attire was rich, bpt so simple and so in unison wilh the style of her face and figure, that he paused to admire her, and then sought, an introduction. From that evening he had cultivated Grace Win- throp's acq uaintance. e was charmed' with her sprightly, intelligent conversation , so unlike the style of the young' ladies he was accustomed to meet on such occasions.. He was a favorite in so- ciety, and used to flattering attentions. But she puzzled him. She was always polite, but never manifested any especial pleasure at meeting him. He had been wishing for an informal opportunity to get her all to himself for a little while. Eve- 0 1 , ,. . ' . page: 224-225[View Page 224-225] ' 3 4 . , i, '( f Il I , FIFTY YEARS AGO. nings at her uncle's he had no cha onel and Mts. Winthrop were always I-r, nd the sociability was general. her out, he could only take his turn friends. le rejoiced over their acc ing, the morning he had asked her tor about so naturally, that he hoped it beginning o something more defini exceedingly veJ d at her declining t him again, and for a time was rather appeared so pryokingly indifferet, kindly when sh et him, evidently n by his coming going, that hechar of action. - e was a thorough m n and believed it in.his power to select and where he would. He did not car With his own inheritance, and his professional income; he felt himself ric be indifferent to such an accession, pr thing else suite him. Of religion he ing, except its orm, and that was to ccount. Between himself and Grac here was, on th s point, a great gulf, ot know it. S e was to him the omanly beauty, based on the ver hich he ignored. He felt that she im a crown," "her price far above ron this time e determined to win would keep Grace Winthrop from lo e was unexceptional in most of the qu yin the heart of young girl. Her unc aw his preference with evident ple ould place her in a position equal nce, for. Col- s in the par- When he met rith her other idental meet- ide. It came would be the te. He was ) accompany pool, but she greeting him ot disturbed ged his plan f the world, a wife when for money. fast-growing h enough to vided every knew noth- him of little e Winthrop but he did erfection of y principles vould be to rubies," and her. What ving him?" cities which le and aunt sure. He o any they FIFTY YEARS AGO. I 225 could ask for her. His delicate attentions and his thoughtful kindness were such as her refined taste could -fully appreciate. He could make her future home one of luxury and ease. Thrown so much into his society, she could not fail to know that her coming gave him pleasure, that his hand extended to greet her and draw her to himself, whenever an opportunity occurred. .As the weeks went on, she grew more conscious that an interview she dread- ed would meet her somewhere. Sometimes she thought she really loved Mr. Lenox, and if Doctor Allerton's image came thrusting itself between them, she would grow indignant and determine never to answer another of his letters. She' usually ended in wishing for the days of her childhood, when her mother could decide doubtful question. She did not know that that same mother was daily praying that she might he .led in a way which would 'work out the most abundant honor to her Heavenly Father, and be for her own high- est good. She did not realize hdw deeply inter- woven with her very being were the prayers she had heard, and the principles she had been taught, all through that childhood for which she had longed. She did not know that she had come to one of life's turning points around which clustered. 'so much of the great; shadowy future. The path she would 'take seemed all of her own choosing. " Except thy presence go with her, take her not hence" was uttered in faith, when she left her fa- ther's house; and that " Presence" was with the maiden, tQ guide and influence her in all the trying circumstances in which she might be placed. 10* , I1 224 I 'I j page: 226-227[View Page 226-227] ti MRS. WINTHROP gave the lst 'party of the season; it was very brilliant, and her two young lad es were much admi ed. Grace wore a blue cr pe. Mr. Lenox had ent her that morning some b autiful rose-buds. hen she was dressed she too them up, uncertain whether or not to wear the in her hair. "They are 1 vely," said Laura. ' I wish you would wear the ." "I cannot se why I should not ; a flower is a very simple gift, and I am sure I like Mr. Lenox well enough to ear his flowers." " I cannot see why you should not ike him well enough to wear his name, if he should ask you to." "Don't, Laur a! I want to' disc nnect these flowers from any such associations. am going to, enjoy a real pleasant friendship." Laura smiled and continued dressing, while Grace arrange the flowers in her hair. It was a very pleasant arty, particularly to Mr. Lenox; not that he sec red Grace to himself as much as usual, but he re arded the disposal of his flowers (6) FIFTY YEARS AGO. 227 HAPTER XI;. PERPLEXITIES. . ; a' V j ,+ + G R R .,, 3 , fl Y + r #, r wX J t f S .{ t i 4 $ , T K as a good omen, and determined to decide the mat- te r as soon as an opportunity presented itself. Par- ties werd done with for the present, and neither of the girls were sorry. Grace could not divest her- self of the feeling that she was living very much for herself. She often thought of her mother's weary footsteps and Annie's busy fingers, and then she sewed industriously on the yet unfinished gar- ments for her sister. Jaura shared in the pleasure 'of Doctor Allerton's letters, and often remarked, that they always made her feel as if there was something higher to be attained than she had ever found. "lHe does not preach," said she ; "he carries you right along aid makes you think as he does, and he tells of things at home so charmingly that I al- ways see just how it looks there." Grace thought so too, even if she did not say so. She did not find them difficult to answer, either; they were so suggestive, and she never thought how much thmy influenced her. One evening in the latter part of April Colonel Winthrop was suffering fro a severe cold and headache, a ting so unusual with him, that he re- quired Mrs. Winthrop's constant attention. He went to his room as soon as tea was over, and the girls were left alone in the parlor. It seemed so still all over the house, and so unusual to have a quiet evening down-stairs, that Laura declared it was either the Spring air or t, e silent house which had made. her -very sleepy. She believed she should go to lied. " I am not sleepy," said Grace. " I do not be- 1 I page: 228-229[View Page 228-229] 228 FIFTY YEARS AGO. lieve we shall have any company, so I I ill let you go while I stay and finish the book which I began last .week." "That is a very good example for me, but I can- not follow it to-nfight. I've been sleepy all day." " Mother says sleep is a very good medicine," said Grace, laug ing. "So go and take it and I will have a nice time all to myself." Laura went, and Grace, drawing her aunt's easy chair near the light, sat down to read. Her book was very interesting, and she was soon deeply en- gaged in its contents. How long she had been reading, she did ot know. She did not hear any- body come in uptil a familiar voice said, " Good evening, Miss Winthrop," and looking up she saw Mr. Lenox standing near her. " Why, Mr. Lenox !" said she, "how did you come in ?-e--I did ot hear a sound." "Not through the key-hole, or down the chim- ney ; the day for doing' such things in Massachu- setts is past, you .know ; but I found the house so silent that I almost fancied I had got into the wrong one. Are you lady hostess alone to-night ?" "Not lady hos ess, exactly. I was more selfishly occupied. Laur and I make a great many resolu- tions to read, an I have been trying .to carry out one single one of mine. Uncle has a headache and went to his room after tea. Aunt is with him, and Laura, I am so ry to say, Mr. Lenox-but if I- should go for he , I am afraid I should find her fast asleep. She was very tired to-night." Mr. Lenox had been standing near the fire oppo- site to Grace; h~e had' hardly listened to a word k' tl FIFTY YEARS AGO. 229 she said, he was so charmed with the picture she made in her ait's deeply-cushioned chair. The light from the tll wax candles fell on her shining hair and bright face. There was nothing studied in her attitude or in anythin she said. It was God's gift of beauty, and simp e unaffected grace, that made her o lovely to loo upon, and. His gift of higher love which had kept pack the dark shad- ow of vanity and pride from sp oiling the fair tem- ple. Mr. Lenox's silence mad Grace look up to meet his eyes,,o intently fixed upon her that the color came quickly .to her face, and she said, "I will go and see if the journey up-stairs did not wake Laura up if you will excuse me." "No," said he; "I cannot e cuse you, or allow you to call you cousin. I do not wish to see her to-night; this ,pportunity to ee you alone is just what I have been seeking, to ell you what I am sure you must know already." He had cone nearer to her now, and Grace lis- tened to his words of strong pleading affection with a frightened, aching heart,; for weeks she had fear- ed that this hour would come' and she-how was she to meet it? Mr. Lenox was every thing she could ask, so far as this world goes, and the wonder to her had often been that a gentleman 'so accepted and flattered by, ladies generally, should'seek he so decidedly. She adnaired him nd enjoyed his society, and yet she could never think of him, except as a very pleasant friend, just as! he did Henry Marshall. .She had studiously -avodeed being alor e' within him, and he knew it; but le was none the less determined to page: 230-231[View Page 230-231] FIFTY YEARS AGC win her. It was late when the interview closed. Mrs. Clark had come at the usual hour to put out the lights and shut the house; but quickly taking in how matters stood, she kept her own counsel and waited until the quiet shutting of the front door reminded her that she might again appear on the scene of action. Laura had awakened and wondered where Grace was; the fire was still burning and the light was not put out. She looked at her watch, and finding it so late was just going to look for her when she heard her come in and shut the door, so still that she evidently designed to disturb nobody. "Why, Grace !" said she, "do you know what time it is? I shall never leave you down-stairs alone again, if this is the way you are going to do." " I am sure I hope you will not," said Grace, as she threw herself on the bed and, covering her face with her hands, weptsuch bitter tears as she had never shed before. "What is the matter-what has happened ?" said Laura, really alarmed ".is father sick ?" "'No; it's Mr. Lendx." "Mr. Lenox sick ?" said Laura. "Oh, Laura! nobody is sick. Mr. Lenox has been here this evening, and I'm so sad and wretch- ed," and again sheawept convulsively. " Oh, that is it !" anda very clear light dawned into Laura's mind, " Wait until you have lived three years more. Have you refused Mr. Lenox, Grace ?"- "Yes; and he is angry with me, and he has been so kind ever since I knew him. He was willing to 230 ,, , . hS q '1 Y i Z S t FIFTY YEARS A O. 231 wait without ai answer, and le every thinggo on as before. I k w that was no, best, and told him so; but he says he shall not consider himself an- swered until I ave waited two months. It is very foolish for him to prolong the matter. I'm sure I have considered it enough. I vish uncle need not know it." "I think he suspects the state of affairs now, but it is not necessary for him to k ow anything more. 1 aln sure it would please him very much to have you marry Mr. Lenox. You #illnever do better; and if you do not. love Doctor Allerton, I cannot understand yo r indifference to him." "Please, Laura, do not speal4 of Doctor Allerton or anybody e e. I wish I could stay up.in this room and se only you for a hole month. I do not believe Aaie ever had so much trouble. She liked Sandford Ross and he li ed her. I think it's dreadful to bea young lady." "Well, don't cry about it a y more. If you do not look after he fire and the light, you will have to cone to be in the dark, a d ,that will not help anything, yo now." Grace passed a wearisome night. Sometimes she would co trast the ease which wealth brings with the cars and toil of her mother's daily life. She knew sh couldenjoy the leisure which might be hers, and en Mr. Lenox was such a pleasant friend. She really enjoyed his society. Why could she not accept what really. seemed to be a most de-- sirable offer. Doctor Allerton was nothing to her; he had startle her by his unexpected proposition; while Mr. Lenox had given her timely warning. page: 232-233[View Page 232-233] 232., So Iar as she was concerned, the result was the same in both cases. The more she thought, the more perplexed .she grew, until at last, in a strong, fervent petition for help and stre' gth to Him who giveth wisdom to His children when they ask it, she let the urden go and fell asleep. The dayswhich followed were sadder than Grace had ever known, life seemed. to her so real and earnest. She thought of the time when she felt no responsibility about anything, when she just min- gled with all the joys and perplexities of home, and frolicked with the children, and went and came with Ernest, and had such a free, bounding world of happiness. Her position with Mr. Lenox was painful, he was so delicate in his attentions, doing just the things which she could not reject, and never presuming on any claim. He gave her no opportunity to be annoyed, and yet she felt that he held her to the promise of another interview. Things were in this way when one day about the middle of May, Colonel Winthrop handed Grace a letter to read. It was from Ernest. The vacancy which Colonel Winthrop had so long kept in view would occur the first of June. He had written to Ernest mak- ing the necessary arrangements, and informing him to come on a week before the time, to mike a visit, and get ready for his r'ew occupation. 'his letter was Ernest's acceptance, and announced his inten-. lion to be with them in a few days. Grace could hardly believe it possible that he was actually com. ing. To see him and talk with him would be al- most equal to going hme: FIFTY YEARS AGO. t e 1 1 A 7 N i 1 i 233 "Now, Grate," said Laura, " I expect you will bid me good-bye for some days, until you have ex- hausted Ernes 's whole catalogue of news." The day hewas to come Grace watched and waited. At last, leaning over the balusters, she caught the sound of his well - known voice, and went down th stairs in most undignified haste to welcome him. Ralph smiled all over his face to " see Miss Grace so happy." And. Ernest felt that her fond greeting .was worth all the world to him just then. " hy, Grace, how you have changed !" said he, as he held her at arm's length, and sur- veyed her wit mingled love and pride. "Oh,. no ! have not changed, Ernest, only grown older. I'm going to be nineteen, sometime, and that is older than you used to be,".added she, laughing. Grace's styl of dress was so unlike that in which he had been accustomed to see her, that at first glance she see ed unlike herself. She looked old- er, more like beautiful woman, than the thought- less girl he had always known rher. The' new scenes through which she had passed, and being obliged to ac on her own responsibility, had in-' sensibly developed her character. Ernest was cordially welcomed by the rest 'of the family. Colonel Winthrop smiled to see how happy Grace looked. " I knew it would be neces- sary for you to come in advance of anjy busine is arrangements,'' said he, ''for Grace must be satis- fied about Beechfo~rd before she can let you go." Grace had indeed a great many questions to ask. Annie had written her by Ernest, but her letter FIFTY YEARS AGO. page: 234-235[View Page 234-235] 234 FIFTY YEARS AGO. covered only a small part of her inq iries. She wanted to know every thing that had happened in her absence. Ernest had much to tell of his final c rming. "I missed you, Grace. I wanted you to h lp me over the difficulties; but then, perhaps, you h lped me as much being here. I should be almost faint-hearted without you, father will miss me, and mother's face looked so sad when I told, her good-bye, that my courage half failed me; but Charles is getting to be a big boy, an Henry and Arthur are fast coming on. I did n t know that I lo ed the old farm so well until I eent over. it for the last time. It did not seem much like our journey with only the prospect of staying away two weeks." Grace understood it all, but she was too happy to think he had come to be where sh could see him perhaps every day, to allow him :o bed very despondent. She adked about every body but Doctor Allerton, and of him Ernest had much to say. "I feel greatly indebted to him for many val- uable suggestions," said he, "his teachings and. his society have been highly useful to me. was sorry to leave him, but I ail glad Beechford has so val- uable a man in it. do not expect to find many such men even in Bo ton." As the days of Ernest's visit wore on, Grace found herself no nea er the end of her conversa- tion with him. He old her how much they all missed her, and that mother had often s id she did not know that Grace flled so .large a place in the house. Colonel Winthrop would have offered Ernest a FIFTY YEARS AGO. 235 home in his amily if he had thought it the best thing for him. "Our hours do not suit the hours of business men," said he. "I want you. to.have no hindrance . You have a fine situation, and I expect you to fill it with fidelity. Come here every Sunday, and as often as. you find it convenient dur- ing the wee , but attend to your business first. You shall have a room which we will call yours, and a welcome always." Grace saw t once that, this was best, though it would have. rejoiced her heart to meet him every day. Ernest entered, upon his new duties in humble reliance on that Divine aid which had so effectual- ly kept him thus far on his way. Religion had become to him a living reality.; before he left his father's house he had publicly professed his faith in his Saviour. This had softened t e parting to his mather's heart; she could trust h r boy, when e trusted his Saviour. The changes in his life was very great, but he was determined to meet it faith- fully; of course he had much to. learn, but he had all of the elements of success in his character. His uncle's recommendation and influence gave him a good foundation in the opinion of his em- ployers, and right manfully did he undertake the task. If he had loved and confided in his sister before, he found her doubly valuable now. Her clear views, and bright color gs, lifted him out of his sombre moods. He looked forward to the even- ings he would spend with her with a sense of rest, and through her he began to feel better acquainted 10* page: 236-237[View Page 236-237] 236 FIFTY YEARS AGO. with his aunt and cousin, and the house assumed more of a home look She had found great relief in telling him of heri correspondence ith Doctor Alleton, and her acquaintance with Mr. Lenox. He was "surprised and delighted at the former. "I used to wonder, Grace, that he never made many inquiries about you. I think you may feel yourself honored that he has chosen you for a cor- respondent. If I only knew half as .much as he. does I should be glad; he has been of great assist- ance to me in fitting me for my place. I am sorry for Mr. Lenox, and if I am going to liv in Boston, Isshould consider my happiness complete to have you here, too; but don't marry a man whom you do not thoroughly like, Grace." "I do like Mr. Lenox, but I do not want to marry him. I have about made up my mind not to marry any body ; you will be surprise when you come home to visit a few years from now, to find me making clothes for the boys just as Annie does.". "I suppose so," said her brother, with an incred- ulous smile. "In the meantime,.you tvill, doubt- less try your-skill on me. Annie has been fitting me up all winter, and at present I am in a very good condition ; but by , an9 by the buttons will begin to fall off, and the rei ts come, and then I shall know where to go." " You cannot find a busier needle. Aunt thinks I need every thing new, now that sumrher is com- ing, and I suppose I do. I am so glad that she is' finding out that I can help myself a little'. She even 'consented to my cutting a pretty dress for myself yesterday. I always think how pleased FIFTY' YEARS AGO. 237 mother would be when I doa thing nicely. Some- times I imagine I hear her say, 'Annie, what do you suppose Grace is doing?' and I answer back in my heart, 'Remembering what you told her, mother; remembering it always.'" "That is just the way with me," said Ernest. "Mother's words come 'to me many times in the day. They seem to be part of myself. I do not think we had better talk about it any more, or I shall go straight to Beechford." The green leaves, the budding flowers, and the singing birds told that.June had come, and changed the whole outward aspect of the goodly city. Laura's world was changing, too, for she had prom- ised Henry Marshall she would leave her father's house, and go to dwell with him. Her father and mother approved her choice, and Grace extended a right cousinly hand to one whom she had learned to esteem and respect. It seemed to be another link binding her to Mr. Lenox. Laura told her that it was the only thing wanting to make her happiness complete. Ernest was a great comfort to her. He made no attempt to influence her, nor was he greatly surprised, when, one evening in the early part of July, she told him, with more cheerful- ness than he had seen her have of late, that Mr. Lenox and herself could never be any more to each other than they ere at present. The question was de- cided, and painful as their interview had been, she had been happier ever since. ,The result of; that decision was of greater importance than she could then comprehend. The -choice was hers, apd .she decided it as she wished. page: 238-239[View Page 238-239] FIFTY YEARS AGO. Mr. Lenox was what the-world calls a brilliant match. What hindered. her from walking with him through the paths of ease and luxury which were his, and which her presence would have ad- orned ? Had she not been given to her Saviour in the very dawning of her existence, and had not fervent petitions gone up from the heart of her father and mother that she might be kept from temptation, and delivered from evil? Mr. Lenox's loves with his views of her faith, would have been a sn re, a vital hindrance to her earthly mission. So, walking free- ly in directed steps, she went on her way without him. I CHAPTER XVIII. 1;ESULTS OF EARLY TRAINING. G RACE'S final decision in regard to Mr. Le- nox was a real disappointment to Henry Marshall. He was so happy himself, that h's cous- in's sadness oppressed him. Besides, he thought Grace so fitted to complete Mr. Lenox's character, he wondered she could not see how necessary she was to his uture life.'- Laura shared in' his grief. She wished now more than ever that her cousin had been prevailed on to stay without going home when she and Ernest came to visit them a year ago; then she would not have known Doctor Allerton, and though Grace did not acknowledge it, she was very sure he was the strong power which held her so firmly, and made her indifferent to Mr. Lenox's love, and the advantages which his position offered. Occasionally she would think she could not have it so; but her warmest remonstrances were met with so much sincerity, that she-ended with a con- viction that Grace acted from right principles, and there was no use in trying to influence her to do contrary to her inclinations in the matter. One thing she resolved she would do. She would cease (239) P z38$ i I. ,_ ; j; ,,_ _. ,; s, page: 240-241[View Page 240-241] FIFTY YEARS AGO. 241 240 FIFTY YEARS AGO. to feel any interest in Doctor Allerton's 1Ktters. She was vexed at him, but she forgot it when the next one canie, and listened to it as she always did, and felt involuntarily drawn towards him as a personal friend. She was perplexed and vexed, and finally gave. the matter up: as something beyond her con- trol. Colonel Winthrop had been a close observer of the way things were 'going ever since Mrs. Mar- shall's party in the early winter. H regarded Henry Marshall and Mr. Lenox as every way de- sirable matches for his daughter and niece. To have Grace so finely provided for, "set in the very niche she seemed made to fill,'' as he told, Mrs. Winthrop, was a matter for quiet ongratula- tion. He kept his own counsel, and expected the satisfactory ending with certainty, when suddenly Mr. Lenox's frequent -visits were discontinued. After waiting long enough to assure imself that somethin was wrong, he took an opportunity' when he was alone with Grace to ask, with as- sumed indifference, where Mr. Lenox was. Grace was conscious of blushing very deeply, and betraying a good deal of agitation; but she managed to reply, " We do not see him as often as we did in the winter." Suddenly stopping before her; he said, "Is Doc- tor Allerton in the way of your choice of Mr. Le- nox It was terrible for her to be thus questioned by her uncle.. With a beating heart, she only replied, " I do not think he is.", " Doctor Allerton is a gentleman ; I admired him,, but he has his own way to make, while - Mr. Lenox can place his wife in a home of ease and luxuy. The woman of his choice may feel herself honored. I should be sorry to have you act unwisely in this matter. Young people do not always know what is best for them." "I do not think-I am almost sure--" began Grace, but the seal of silence fell on her lips. She could not vindicate herself to him; he would not understand her. Besides, she was so overcome by his gentle ess, when she expected severity, that she could no trust herself to speak; and when she looked u he had gone without saying .another word. Her uncle had been her great dread. She ex- pected little less than. positive displeasure, if he ever knew it; but even he had uttered no, reproof. She knew she had disappointed him, and that was hard enough for her to bear. "I have gone contrary to the wishes of the dear- est friends I have outside of my home, and I cannot; cannot help it. Ernest thinks I have done right, and that is such a comfort." Ernest came just.then, and a long walk with him in the cool evening air refreshed and strengthened her spirits. She had need of these .lifts out of her daily life, for' besides the consciousness of her friends' disappointments, she had occasionally to meet Mr. Lenox. He endeavored to conceal his wounds froni observant eyes, but to one who knew him as she id, his bitterness was distressing. She" could not.show him the kindness she felt; and was greatly relieved when she learned through Henry X41' :: page: 242-243[View Page 242-243] 242 FIFTY YEARS AGO. Marshall that he would be absent on business for some weeks. The evening after he left, Henry Marshall brought her a note and a little sealed package. She excused herself, and went up-stairs. She opened the box, and found it containe an exquis- ite gold watch, just the mate to Laura's. The note was from Mr. Lenox. The language was as kind as a brother's could have been. " If," said he, "you will accept and wear this, I shall regard it as a seal of friendship, and will promise you, with it for my token, that I will endeaor to culti- vate less of bitterness than I have known since my last interview with you. I am convinced of your sincerity, and shall not seek to chang your decis- ion. If you return this, I shall consider it a rejec- tion of a peace-offering, on your part to one who has great need of peace. Its acceptance cannot involve you in any trouble; its return will grieve and disappoint me." Grace took the beautiful little timekeeper in her hand ; it was something she should value-but ought she to keep it? Wear a watch which was a gift from Mr. Lenox, when she had rejected him! That did not coincide with' her views of things, and she laid it back in its vel- vet case. Then she took up the note and re-read it. Taking in view her whole acquaintance with him, and its results, was it right to reject this "peace- offering," as he had termed it? "It is beyond my power to decide, to-night," thought she; -"I mnust wait. One thing I do know: it cannot entangle me as Doctor Allerton's letters have done. It ohly says 'forget, and be friendly ;' while they are con- FIFTY YEARS AGO. 2 stantly drawing me on with heir charming variety, all woven up with home and every body I know there," and she blushed at\ this unexpected con- fession, as if somebody ad heard her make it. Laura had told her ndt to .be gone long, for she wanted to practice some songs which Henry had brought. So she put the package and note into her drawer, and went down to the parlor. Henry gave her a searching look,.and she wondered how much he knew pf the contents of the 'parcel. When they .were alone, she gave the package and the note to Laura, without .saying a word. When she had read the' note, and admired. the beautiful gift, she listened to Grace's "What shall I do?" uttered in beseeching terms. " It seems to, me you had better keep it. You cannot return it at present, for Mr. Lenox has gone. I know he has suffered very much, from what He'ry has told me." "Does e know it ?" " es." "I am sorry; but I cannot help it. If-I thought it would really gratif him, and he could perfectly understand my moti es, I would keep it. It is beautiful; and if Ern st had' given it to me, I. should be in ecstacies over it. How strang it is, that the thing itself isn't the thing, after all." "I must repeat the same expression I have so often used. What a queer girl you are! You seem so old and so young-all mixed up together. Sometimes I should think I had your mother for my room-mate, and then I might believe your little sistw Mary had ;dropped in. I wonder if there is 4 i 243 page: 244-245[View Page 244-245] 1I FIFTY YEARS AGO. 244 any thing in that old house at Beechf rd which makes people prematurely wise! I am glad you cannot send this beautiful thing back to-pight, and I am stronglydisposed to think, in view of all the circumstances, that you would do wrong to do soat all. Ask Dr. Allerton. I believe-he is accountable for some of your strange fancies, ignorant as you, seem to be of the fact. If he only lived in Bostcn in time I might learn to forgive him." . The world went on as usual; only to Grace life was more serious than it used to be. Henry Marshall had a long talk with Laura about his cousin and hers. He could not under- stand why she had refused him, but he never once accused her of seeking to mislead him. "She is a rare treasure," said he, "and' would, I think, have sufficient influence over Lenox to brink him into clearer view on some points ;where he is rather wandering. He is very fastidious in his tastes, and now I shall not be surprised if ht is never suited. I hope Grace will keep that watch." "Then you knew about it ?" "Yes ; he told me all about it. It se med, after his first sorrow had passed, to be a decided com- fort to him to express his continued regard in some way that might occasionally remind her of him. He proposed several .things, but nothing suited him until he saw a watch exactly like. fours. He could see no objection to this: it would be useful, and he was sure she could. accept it as a token of his continued friendship. He sent no chain with it, on purpose. He designed to have jno links in any way connected with it. I think sho ought to kee effi any do tur 'I "S '4 her but IL add list Shec timh She she mat you fact a nd teai s if sens whe fere that in ti " ] a ve for a acts y, FIFTY YEARS AGO. ''245 ~p it, and' I hope you will- advise her to~ that act; I shall, if she gives me an opportunity. At rate, I shall :not take it back to, Lenox. I not care to witness the effects of its re- I believe Grace will .do right," said Laura. he is very firm, when a principle is involved." Then she will keep. the watch. I do not ask to marry my cousin, if; she does not wish ko, I do ask her to'deal kindly with .him." aura. repeated the conversation to Grace, and ed her opinion that she should keep it. Grace ned. The beautiful gift was safe in her drawer. wound it up every day, and waited to see how e influenced her views of calling it her own. showed Ernest the note, and asked him what should do. I will trust your own good sense in the ter," said he. ",Henry Marshall 'has given his views, from an intimate' knowledge of the s. I think, if I had asked 'a lady to -haves me, she had told me no, I should not lavish many tiful things upon her. You have proved your- an excellent instructor, to bring out such, a e of forgiveness in his mind; Father told me n I was coming' away, to remember that dif- nt men had different opinions. So I will-allow your Mr. Lenox has a right to his own Views is case." He isn't 'my Mr. Lenox,' Ernest, but' he is rye pleasant. man, one whom 1 should like friend always. When he comes home, if he as if the past were forgotten, I think I will keep. page: 246-247[View Page 246-247] 246 FIFTY YEARS AGO. the watch. So many advisers ought to help me dc right in the matter." One evening, Grace had been sitting in the twi- light with Henry and Laura, when Ernest came for her to. go .out to walk. "Poor Lenox," said Henry, "I seldom see that girl, that I do not wish it had-been in her power to love him." "I wish it could have been so," said Laura. " It is a greater trial, since it is just what we would have it, if we could arrange it. It is a great dis- appointment to' father and mother, but they aston- ish me by their quietness about it. Mother says, father ,thinks she will change her mind; but I know she will not. She is a peculiar girl. She is one of the dearest companions you can imagine. She has done me a great deal of good. She always sees things in such a cheerful way. I' tell her sometimes I believe she was born to conquer diffi- culties. Right and wrong are very clearly defined in her mind, and, without seeming to know it, she brings one to her way of thinking." "Just the qualities Lenox needed. It is well he is not your listener. You would destroy all the effects of his change of scene and stoical determin- ation. I hope she will be wise enough 'to keep his watch. I'shall think her lacking in appreciating circumstances, if she does not." " I think she has decided to do so, for even Er- nest did not object."- "Her brother has decision enough to be your father's son. I saw that, by the exptession of his mouth, the first evening .I met him. I like him much. Are the rest of the family like these two ?" 1 r i { v A i on( wo mu ma So i shoc its wo dri at' the bre ble 'the Err eve ing alo kl tog S of f noo ren of. pic but cle an exc FIFTY YEARS AGO. 247 'In many respects ; they are all younger,except e sister, who is.older than Ernest. I think you ld like them all. I enjoyed my visit there very ch, and wish I could go every year." otwithstanding the troubled days, there were y bright ones for Grace, during the summer. etimes Colonel Winthrop would go to the sea- ) e. Nahant was only a"comfortable drive, and ong, smooth beach and rolling waves were as derful then as now. Colonel Winthrop woul. ve over very early, and after resting his horses ynn, drive on to the beautiful beach, and watch restless waves, and refresh himself in the cool zes which swept over them. aura and Grace loved these days. They ram- about, when they were tired of riding,; and in roar of the waters heard strange, wild music. est foung little time for day.excursions, but an ing with his sister, after she had been enjoy- one, made him almost believe he had been g with her. "IHow do they compare with huc- berry parties?" said he, laughingly, when sitting ther in the little garden summer-house. he was telling him of her day with a small party ends at Nahant. "I was thinking, this after- n, of one we had last summer," said she Y "You ember, we all rode in the cart over to the foot agle Mountain, and what nice times. we had ing berries; not that we really got'so many; we enjoyed the ride, and the woods, and :that ir, sparkling- brook that runs down ti e rocks bides away in the glen. .And our I uonh was ellent, out of. the clean basket which oor old ' iV i', t v i.. " i ; I ., j c5r ,_ page: 248-249[View Page 248-249] A Eben had made for mother. Sandford and Annie, Julia and Charlie Thorn, Edward:Nelson, and you and I, and Mary Ross, in our clean cart, with father's strong oxen, were just as happy as we have been to-day." "Do you mean that you enjoy riding in father's cart, with oxen to draw you, just as well as you do 'uncle's carriage, with his fine horses ?" "Why, no ! I do not mean that at .all; and Ido not -mean that picking huckleberries on Eagle Mountain will compare with sitting on the rocks' at Nahant to-day, and seeing the great waves which the easterly wind rolled up. They were so grand, that I could not speak a word. I kept thinking of 'terrible majesty' all of the time. I cannot explain what I think about it; only I like certain things in certain places. I enjoy the ease of my life this summer, and the beautiful drives, and having plenty of nice clothes, and the pleasant people I meet; and I know how different it is at home, where we have to be so careful of every thing, and father and mother have so much to do, and I have to set the table, and wash dishes, and sweep-things that you know I do not really like at all-and yet I am going back to my old life, from choice. Now, Ernest, explain all this, if you can." .1, "How would it be if father, mother, Annie, the children and-and their family physician were com- ing to Boston to live ?" asked her brother, smiling. Grace blushed in spite of herself, and. added: "Of course, if father and mother and all of the fam- ily were coming, I should feel very differently. If w e had always lived here as uncle has, I suppose I hould wonder how I could be content in Beech- fo d with our plain ways." " Unless-you know you asked me to explain, iss Winthrop, and I begin to feel quite an ability to do so-unless Doctor Allerton should write one o his charming letters and tell you he was very lonely at Beechford, that he had discovered that y u were very necessary to. his future happiness a d usefulness there, I begin. to think that the lux- u y of a wealthy -home in Boston would suffer in comparison with the domestic happiness nestled away in Beechford." ''Ernest, you are too bad. I shall not accept y ur explanation ; you and Laura have grown w nderfully discerning. Sometimes I think if mother sends for me this Fall, I will urge her to le me stay all winter, just to prove how mistaken y u are." 'That would please us both. I'll keep on ex- pl ining if you will stay all winter. Now, shall I tell you something more? I think Mr. Rexford is very polite to somebody ; he certainly is to me, an' I never called myself particularly attractive." 'He comes here to sing with us; he has been in th habit of coming all winter. Since Mr. Lenox has been away, and Henry and Laura have grown ex lusive, I am thrown more into his society. S mebody must talk to him; and when you are no here I feel obliged to be polite. Don't get that id a into. your head, if you do I shall go home be. fo e mother sends.for me." 'What! when you just said ou were going to .FIFTY YEARS- AGO. i 248 FIFTY YEAkS AGO. 249 page: 250-251[View Page 250-251] 250 FIFTY YEARS AGO. ask her to let you stay all winter. Oh, Grace Win- throp ! I wonder if all the girls in the world are like you." I don't suppose they all have such brothers. I wish you were going back to Beechford to stay always. Are you really glad that you have come here to live ?" " Yes, I can say I am; for you know I could not always be a boy and live at home with father and mother. I must make a home for myself some- where, and I mean to carry out their principles in it. I hope I shall be able to say, ' The lines have fallen unto me in pleasant places ; yea, I have a goodly heritage." "That -sounds just like 'mother. You know she has a passage of Scripture ready for any occasion. There is one thing here, Ernest, so different from home; it seems as if people never think of.anything but this world. When auntie has one of her ter- rible headaches, 'she always seems so frightened and asks if headaches do not sometimes kill peo- ple. Once when I told her of Aunt Mary's dying, just .as grandmother has told it to me so many times, she said it did not seem to her possible that a young girl of e ghteen could be happy at the thought of dying. She asks me if mother does not scold and fret when she has .so much to "do, and how it is possible that we all seem so happy. One Sunday when she was not well, and I stayed at home with her, she wanted me to read her some of the chapters which mother likes." Uncle seems to respect religion, and he always goes to church; and here is another thing which I cannot explain, fa- i I { t . 4 w FIFTY YEARS AGO. 251 th r's religion seems himself. Is cannot separate hin from it, while uncle's seems like our Sunday clothes at home-the very best things we can have, but not absolutely necessary to our real comfort an happiness." 'Uncle came away from home very early. Moth- er says he had so many temptations in the army, an his success in business was so uninterrupted, an his wealth so abundant, that he had greater te ptations to 'feed on husks' than father. had in hi, self-denying life. I do not believe I shall ever forget the conversation I .had with mother about .a week before I came away. She made it so plain that earthly riches were dangerous possessions, and increased a' man's responsibility so much, that I am trying to keep to her motto of diligence. 'She marked this text: 'Seest thou a man diligent in his business, he shall stand before kings; he shall not stand before mean men. "Isn't it strange, Ernest, that the Bible has some- thing in it for every body's troubles. I think I am something like uncle. I have the greatest respect for it, but I never could see how mother could re- member so many passages that were exactly the thing you wanted. I remember once when I was a little girl, she sent me with some broth for old Bethia Newal, She seemed very glad to see me, and I thought I would do as I had read about good peop e doing when they visited the sick, repeat some comforting passage of Scripture; but the more I tried the more I could not think of a single one ; and finally, when she asked me if I could not tell her a little news to cheer her tup, I asked her page: 252-253[View Page 252-253] FIFTY YEARS AGO. if she knew about 'Joseph and his brethren.' She did not seem to know who they were, but she liked the story. "1This winter when I have been so really troubled and perplexed, all of a sudden up would come a text without my looking for it, and it would be just the thing I needed and make the way seem plainer. When you first came, Ernest, you said you thought I had grown older, and sometimes I think I have, for I feel so much more responsibility. than I used to when I knew that father and mother were thinking for me. I did not, trouble myself much about anything, but here it is different. I often find myself questioning the right and wrong of things which people do and say. I try to throw it off by saying they are older and a.great deal wiser than I am,.but that does'not satisfy nie. I know that mother's views are right and her texts mean just what they say." "It would make mother very happy if she knew that you remember these things. She used to say last winter, 'Grace is so young and thoughtless, and so. fond of things which please the eye, that I'm afraid she will get notions which will hinder her from being happy in the plain ways she has been accustomed to. If I only knew that she was a Christian, I could trust her better.' " "I am not a Christian, Ernest, I know I am not ; but my life has been so entirely different from ours at home, that I. have thought more of the difference between those who are. Christians ,and those who are not, than I should in years there, with father and mother and grandfather and grandmother. I had no contrasts for them. I thought, if I ever thought at all, that all "fathers and mothers were Christians." "Grace ! where are you ?" said Laura, coming out to look for her. "Henry has gone and Mrs. Clark is waiting for you to lock the hot se." "If I have outstayed Henry," said' Ejnest, rising quickly, "you must charge it to this cousin of yours,l who has a way of keeping folks longer than. they mean to stay. I'll take it off of my next even- ing," said 'he, laughing, as the girls followed him to the door and bade him good-night 253 FIFTY "YEARS AGO. I F 252 i .I , C. page: 254-255[View Page 254-255] ii CHAPTER XIX. THE BEACH PARTY. M R. LENOX had turned, and Grace had met him two or, three times. He was kind, but evidently avoided her. And she, understand- ing him, managed to keep out of his way. There was less necessity for their meeting now than during the winter. He did not call, and there were no parties to throw them together. "Mr. Rexford calls oftener than he used to ; have you thought of it, Grace ?" said Laura, one day. "Yes ; and do you know, Laura, that I am getting to be suspicious, or vain, or something else disagree- able, because instead of. enjoying 'his society as I used to last winter, I begin to imagine I shall get into trouble again. It is dreadful to be suspicious, Laura.". "I'm suspicious of Doctor Allerton's letters as the occasion of a good deal of your trouble. Why don't you give them up ?'" Grace blushed, and answered, with some diffi- culty for her,. "How can I now? Ernest likes them as well as I do. Annie is so busy, she has n't time to write-us half we want to know." (254) S e a 1 FIFTY YEARS AGO. 255' "Well, I advise Mr. Rexford not 'waste his veetness on the desert air.'" " He shall not, if I can help it," said Grace., A long silence followed, in which both girls were idently thinking. Laura, looking up, saw such serious expression on her cousin's face, that she immediately called her to an account for it. "Taking yourself to task, I always know, when I e that expression. What have you been doing ow ?" "It's what I have n't been doing. I've been con- asting my life with Annie's. Sometimes I feel so' le-just as if I was doing nobody any good." "How glad I am that I feel so well qualified to nsweri some of your doubts. , In the first place, ou have been teaching me ever since you came ere, Do n't look so incredulous, Miss Winthrop ! 'he lessons you hare given me I could never have :arned in any othe way ; and if I should attempt draw up a set o1 resolutions, you would be as- nished at their extent." Grace did look incredulous, forthe idea of being y real benefit to Laura never came into her cad ; and that very evening, when Ernest told her was a- subject 9f daily thankfulness to. him that be was where he could tell, her of his perplexities, ad that her sympathies made hi.m.stronger for his ew mode of life, a light seemed to-dawn upon her. erhaps Ernest had ;needed her more than her iothey and Annie had.. How she. had- helped aura, she - could not tell; but she was very glad Sat slie-had not been living :for herself only. Fr- est vpuld get accustomed to, his surroundings, page: 256-257[View Page 256-257] 0 256 FIFTY YEARS AGO. and make friends who would esteem him, and then he could do without her better. She was sorry there seemed so little that she could do to show her affection for her uncle and aunt. She did not know that her bright, cheerful face, and her thought- ful anticipations in little acts of dutiful, attention, made him wish that she might never leave him un- til she had a home of her own. He had been real- ly tried in her refusal of Mr. Lenox. If the matter had been reversed, and she. had fancied some one whom he disliked,. he would never have kept so quiet; but he could not see how any interference on his part would help the state of things. "That young doctor at Beechford has something to do with her decision," was his-usual response to himself, when he thought the matter over. He made very particular inquiries after him of Ernest, and found that he held him in high esteem. He was making his mark, and promising to be a man of much importance at Beechford. He poped nothing would be said of Grace's going home for another year'; perhaps in that time things would take a different turn. Mrs. Winthrop had gone beyond loving race because her husband and daughter did. She loved her because she could not help it. Her fingers had a kind of. magnetic touch which soothed her fre. quent headaches more than medicine ; anc now that Laura had so many exclusive demands upon. her, Grace filled in the vacancy most acceptably. She thought if her mother should send for her, a visit would satisfy her, and she would consent to her returning with them for another year at least. s I FIFTY YEARS AGO. 257 She 10lt more sure of it now that Ernest was there, for she knew that he would not be willing to have her o away, if it was possible to keep her. Grace had been trained in active usefulness; so that she did, ot really understand or' rightly estimate the passive form. There are so many departments in the great work-shop of life, that it needs time and severe discipline to open our eyes to the fact that our a customed way is -only one.of the infinite ways in which the workman is employed.. We cannot judg of the importance of our task simply by its relative position. Grace was standing - on the thres old, with only. a dim perception of what was folde up in the leaves she was daily turning. " 'other told m two years ago that I knew very little of life," said. he to Laura. "I thought she had very limited idea of my attainments,.but' I begi to see'that she was wiser than her daughter. [ think I have learned something in these two years Ernest say I seem older than I used to; but, good-bye, there comes Henry Marshall; if he s really disappointed at not. finding 'me here,' you an call me," and lughingly she ci sappeared. In a ittle time, Laura came for her. "According to agreement, I am here to find rou. Henry wishes to see you especially." "I oppose so," aid Grace, without showing the. east ign of obeying the summons. " He does, really I. came on purpose to find you. If you had been a little less anxious 'to be out of he way, I should not have had to come up these ong fights of stairs." Henry was in the summer-house, which was I 'I page: 258-259[View Page 258-259] / (I1 258 FIFTY YEARS AGO; built under a broad elm that had been left sta ding in the enclosed space back of the house. "My call at this hour was on purpose to see you, Grace ; but, as usual, you were out of sight. I am going to get up a beach party, and my first ques- tion is, what shall I do with you ?" " If Ernest can go, I will quickly tell you. Will it do for him to leave his business ?" "Better not until he has been there lodger. Laura says you must be talked, over and disposed of before hand, or you will give us a great deal of trouble." "Quite a compliment !" said Grace, laughing. "I'll stay with aunt, and after dinner ride over to Charlestown, call and invite Mr. Ernest Winthrop to tea, and be ready to welcome you home hen* you-come.". "Exactly what I said!" responded Laura. 'But you must* go, Grace; I want you to very much. We are to go early in the morning, take lunch with us, and eat it on the rocks. It will be delightful, if you will only do as.we want you to." "What do you want me to do.?" " Go with whoever of Henry's friends ask.you.' "Not Mr. Lenox! You would not approve of that, Henry, I am sure." "No, Grace; Lenox believes in you; he will not ask you. .I hope he will go;. but if he does, it will be on horseback. . The truth is, if you are disen- gaged, Rexford will ask you. He is a'good fellow ; but if you mean to spare him, I should not advise you to spend much, time over him. You have proved yourself such a dangerous companmo, that f , n r e d r r t r r' 'I FIFTY YEARS AGO. 259 , yoir affectionate relatives, must look out for ou. There's Russell--you know.him very well; and if [ tell him first of the party, he will have the a van age of Rexfo d, and I think you will find him a agreeable companion. I can recommend him. Will ybu go with hi ?" "Say, 'Yes,' before he asks me-is that what you ean y doing what you want to have me ?" said Grace, laughing. " No,.my lady, not at all. I know what I am talk- i g about. Will your go with Russell if he asks you?" " Yes, to please you and Laura I will, if you will promise not to say to him, I de n't exactly know hat to do wit Grace Winthrop. I suppose ,Laura and I can tak her.' But remember, I 'shall not go with Mr. Rexford, and I shall not be unhap- py to tay ,at'home. Please, can- I go now, Mr. Marshall?" and Grace assumed an air of mock hu- mility quite ridiculous to behold. "I must, if you do not; remember you are to leave your fate in my hands, so far as this party is concerned." " Yes, sir," said Grace, making a low' courtesy, and then she was gone back to her room, where .Laura soon joined her,-and their talk and work went on uninterruptedly for the rest of the morn- ing. The party was arranged for the last day of Au- gust. M~[r. Russell's early invitation was accepted. Mr. Re ford' came as soon as he heard of it, and seemed decidedly surprised that somebody had secured Miss Winthrop before him. He declined page: 260-261[View Page 260-261] 260 FIFTY YEARS AGO. .t _i i F i,1 going entirely, but Henry Marshall ignorin the fact, that he cared particularly for any young lady, urged him to make some other arrangement He must not stay at home for they could not spare him. Six o'clock is a very pleasant hour to start on a long ride of a warm summer morning. rnest longri ff nd oinGrac inthewish came up to see them off and join was a verypleash that he was going. Mr. Russell waavey Pleas- ant companiongand the whole party were in excel- lent spirits. Without driving fast they rached Lynn before nine o'clock, and after resting at hour were ready to drive to the beach. Here they stroll- ed about, watching the play of the good-ntured waves. They climbed the rocks and found sats as they could in groups or single companies. Every body had come for a pleasant day, so they wer social and merry, enjoying the refreshing breeze . Mr. Lenox came much later than the rest, and as Henry Marshall had predicted, he was on horsebac. He was cheerful, but not a leading spirit, as he once would have been. He joined the group where Grace was sitting, and occasionally addressed a Grark was her nce he asked her about her broth- er and of his success in his business, but he offered her none of those little attentions which ad al- ways before seemed a part of his nature.. Lunch was in thiscase really an enterta nment, for it not only ministered to their appetites, but its arranging nd serving furnished a good eal of amusement Cold, roast chickens were plenty, and sandwiches and a variety of cake and fruit. Each carriage had a basket, and altogether the FIFTY YEARS AGO. . 261 good things would have been sufficient for a party of twige their number. The repast occupied some time, and then Lizzie Marshall proposed to explore among .the rocky cliffs. Grace joined her, and in ashort time all of the party were in motion. Grace was very inde- pendent in her efforts, climbing rocks was no new thing for her, it really was very exhilarating; and brought a glow on her cheeks such as they used to wear at Beechford. She was quite in advance of the others and thought she was a one, making a bold effort to go round a point she missed her foot-- hold and would have fallen if a str ng hand had not caught her, and held her firmly until she stood in safety. It was Mr. Lenox. She had come into his .lonely retreat very unexpectedly. ~His sur- prise, and her sudden danger, threw him off his guard, and caused him to utter an expression of passionate tenderness. His quick apology had something so painful in it, that as he turned away and left her with Mr. Russell, she realized how man- fully he had striven to 'keep his pledge, and be to her only.a friend. Henry Marshall and Laur coming up just then, found Mr. Russell and several others assiduous in their inquiries after Grace, who was sitting, unusu- ally, pale, but very quiet, on the rock. "Your cousin, Miss Winthrop, came very near paying dearly for -her independence. She is in- debted .to. Mr. Lenox's sudden appearance from somewhere for her ability to look .so composedly over it now. She so outstripped me;-in, the race that I could render her- no assistance." *1 - ,+, I { page: 262-263[View Page 262-263] 262 FIFTY YEARS AGO.. Laura looked alarmed, but Grace assured, her that she did not fall, only a stone rolled and ade. her lose her footing, she was not hurt in the le st. "I shall have to put an injunction on iss Grace, to the effect that she shall stay d wn where the rest of us mortals do for the remai der of the day," said Henry Marshall, with an ai of assumed authority. " I also propose that we ave a little music on this festive occasion, provid d I can get our forces together." Grace would rather have sat awhile in sil nce waiting for the shock, and the expression of Mr.. Lenox's face, to pass away; but with her sual effort at self-command, she joined her voice vith the others. Mr. Lenox's part was wanting and there was'a general call for him, but he had disap- peared, and they were obliged to go on without him. The waves sang, too, regardless of the tiny sounds on shore ; the world was wide enoug for both. By and sby the horses were brought an the party rode slowly up and down the wonde fully beautiful beach, watching the declining sun as it poured its farewell flood of golden radiance all over, the unmindful waters. The hard san had retained sufficient water to give it the appearance of a high polish, and the tread of the horse was so soft, that they might have be n shod wit vel- vet for any sound they gave. G ace took i the beautiful outline with its varied sc nery from each to lofty precipice, with intense longings for rnest to share in, er enjoyment of it. She was in no mood to express to Mr. Russell the half she felt, FIFT YEARS AGO. 263 so she kept reasonably silent:. The ride liome was very pleasant, the m on supplying the sun's place most acceptably. Grace's accidenta encounter with Mr. Lenox had been her greater t drawback in the pleasures of the day. He di not join the company any more. His cousin c vered his retreat, by saying, "He was an uncerta n guest, and had only prom- ised to ride out'and lok on awhile." Ernest was waitin for them, and listened with interest to Grace's d scription of the excursion. "Your sister's spirit of adventure must have } ewhere," said Mr. Russell ntry at defiance; how Lenox suddenly, I am at a loss to so early, that I concluded he hort time," said Henry. And ed. up his disappointment about coming oftener than before. very convenient, now that aged ,without her, trying to between himself and Mr. a, seemed to be her present in Boston about four months, and responsibility. It had yh his uncle's influence, and give him no cause toiregret ter. Colonel Winthrop had tified to hear from his em- been cultivated son "she set all my gallk produced himself so know." " I met Mr. Lenox did not go." " He. only stayed a then the subject drop Mr. Rexford made the beach party by Grace found Ernest Laura was often en cultivate a friendshi Rexford, he told Lau aim. Ernest had now bee in a situation of trus been obtained through he was determined tc his agency in the ma been exceedingly grd page: 264-265[View Page 264-265] 264 FIFTY YEARS AGO. ployers occasional commendations c fitness for the place. "1I was pot af mend him," said he, to Mrs. Winthro he would, be equal to it. Brother brought up his children well; moi necessary thing, I should not know without it. But if I had a family of rather they would have such a found ry's children have without the mo money I coy ld give them without th Mrs. Winthrop had very little ide training of sons would be, and not t what the real want of money was; b with her husband perfectly, in thin two of his children she knew were h parents. About the middle of September, ( a letter fro1 .Annie, in which her "'Tell your uncle that I cannot let with him. I sometimes think Ern( Grace is not, and if I havp to add. shall be des late, indeed.' " This letter caused quite- a sensatio posed to write a remonstrance at looked very sober when he read it, expected it, and could understand bet why his mbther needed Grace. M was disposed to treat it lightly. S letter could be written explaining h it was to le her go before spring at Colonel inthrop was disappoin his usual j recision, he said, "I mother, Grace, and I will try and f n his g r r ~aid to r p, " Ibel r H-enr' ney is a what sons, I s ation as ey ; tha e found a of wha re slight ut she a king tha onors to race rec mother you go st is no nnie is n. Laur once. I :hough h ter than' rs. Win he thou ow impo my rate. ted ; but romised fulfill my ieved has very' :o do should Hen- n the :ion. Lt the Est of greed it the their eived said, back t, and not, I . pro- rnest e had Laura throp ght a ssible ,with your word, FIFTY YEARS AGO; 265 unless we, can indude her to consent to your re- maining." Grace knew that Ler mother really needed her, especially. if Annie was going. It was a great trial to leave Ernest, butl her mother .knew that, and . would not separate them if she cojild help it. The evening before Annie's letter came Mr.. Rexford had found. an opportunity to convey to Grace in language sh could neither misunderstand nor evade his life pla for her. The interview, on her part, was less painful than the one with Mr. Lenox, because she had never come so near loving him; but, with the feelings of a true woman, she was pained to be tlle cause of disappointment and sorrow to one who so earn- estly offered her his ichest gifts. She had never given him reason to s pposeashe liked him beyond a .pleasant friend,. and when she grew conscious that he was advancing farther than this she had withdrawn, sometimes almost to coldness. "Another friend lost," said she, in answer to Laura's inquiries. "I am glad I am sure of Ernest and Henry Marshall." Her mother's desire for her to come home seemed an outlet for the troubles she had so unintentionally encountered. Related to Henry Marshall and Laura, as she and Mr. Lenox were, they must meet occasionally, and when winter came it would be impossible to avoid meeting often. Every thing would be changed. Mr. Rexford belonged to their musical set and to all their social gatherings. It would be impossible to get back the old, careless friendship New pi ) ' ,", Yet . 0 page: 266-267[View Page 266-267] FIFTY YEARS AGO. acquaintances would not help th( had a slight curiosity, too, to see ho ton really appeared, now that she better acquainted with him. Still pose Laurpa's writing, for, if she st have Emrnest, and there were many roundings in her present home. Colonel Winthrop decided to v his sister-fi-law. Hie asked an e visit until spring, and laid before h why it was desirable for her daug with them. The reply convinced him that i less to urge her staying any lon Ernest and Grace saw it too, but and Laura were not convinced. Mrs. Winthrop had -not been wel ter part of the summer. Riding much tha her physician discourag Beechford. "Then, of course, Grace must sl "No," said her father. "I pro her in safety in a year if nothing vef vent. I shall keep her until I firni tunity. *A friend of mine, who c on business about the first of within twenty miles of Beechford c She can go with him, and her f hek" Ernest wrote to his father, and that he should meet her at Nor stage would leave her. e The weeks between were very matter w Docto was sc he did id, she congen rite hin tension er many hter to L would ger at Mrs. W , Sh :Alle muc. rot op should .al su Self t of th reason remain be us( present inthro l during the la wearied her s ed her going 1 ay," said Laur ised to retu appened to pr a good oppo homes to Bostc November, go n his way honm ~ather can me it was arrang ross, where t busy ones. e r- h d r-. Le is n t. p7" jo to w "a. rn e- on . es e. et ed he It i r; i ' : .' 1., a seemed strange that in one short year she should have become so much at home in her uncle's family and have so many pleasant friends who re- gretted he going. Mrs. Winthrop felt personally aggrieved she did not trysto be reconciled to it. Ernest made the. best of it, but he dreaded the vacancy which her going would leave. The last of October Mr. Olcott, Colonel Winthrop's friend,' came, and willingly promised to see his young charge in safety until she met her father. . The little trunk was brought down from the attic, but its owner's wealth had so outgrown .its size that the large one Mrs. Winthrop had brought from New York had to take its place. "Shall I take these handsome evening dresses, aunt ?" said she, as she thoughtfully surveyed them, and remembered that they would be rather out of place in their little .social gatherings at Beechford. "Yes, child, take every thing; they will be old- fashioned when you come back next winter. You will want new ones then." It seemed to Grace that her wardrobe was very extensive. She thought her mother and Annie would think so too. " Here is something for Annie," saii Mrs. Win. throp, handing her a parcel. "Tell her I do:not like her getting married and taking you away ; but I will forgive her enough to send-Fer this." It was a silver-gray silk with the necessary trim. mings, and Grace added it ,to her store with great pleasure. Laura helped her pack. It was astonishing how 266 FIFTY YEARS' AGO. 267 page: 268-269[View Page 268-269] FIFTY YEARS AGO. FIFTY YEARS AGO. many useful things for little Mary spaces, Laura all the while protestin ing at all. Grace had worn a pin and earring with pearls, belonging to her cousin came to Boston. Taking them fro she was going to put them in their Laura said, "No, keep them ; mot to me on my seventeenth birthday. to give them to you, for I have two Jnow, and I had rather: you wou And now, you must wear that w chain for it from Henry ;" and she her drawe one which exactly mat "He brou ht it to me last night, ask you to wear it for my sake him." "A pleasant combination, and a said Grace, admiringly. " I did n remembra ice from him. Mother been spoiled with kindness. Oh ! poor return fcan ever make for a poor girl broke down under these tion which had been culminating a Laura meanwhile fastened the ch and passe -it over her cousin's ne ing a wor i. She was thinking ho that Grace would give herself an much trouble.. She might stay wi and have a beautiful home of her almost idolized mistress. 'She was place, and they all wanted her. in was all Doctor Allerton-she kne went into the against pack- sof topaz, set ever since she her drawer, )ld place when her gave them She told me other sets, you. d keep these. tch ; here is a took out from ched her own. nd-told me to in memory of beautiful gift," t expect such a will say I have Laura, what a 11" and the ense of obliga- 1 day. ain to the watch ck 'without s .y- strange it was her friends so th them always own, its chosen,. so fitted to the it so much. It it was, and she } 1 k : Y- ' s J .{ " r , 1 ~J ; $ eA j 4j yC l F i e t : F ..+Y .N i; .y ; 4 e h 3 } j'' ,'L7 4 a,. h i F r .y 3 ^ , ,3 f Y wished he had never come to Beechford. It would have been a great relief to her burdened mind to pour out a torrent of wrathful words on his far off head just at that moment, but she was perfectly conscious that it would not do a particle of good, so he at once smothered it down and busied her- self with her cousin's trunk until she grew cheerful again. " I cannot wear this to-night; uncle would notice it, and I could never explain 'it to him. I hope you will tell Henry that I appreciate his beautiful gift. I shall wear the watch with more pleasure for his association with it." The last evening brought a good many calls. Mr. Lenox was among. the number, but Mr. Rex- ford was not. Mr. Lenox only staid a few mo- ments, but he. seemed cheerful, and told her good.- bye so kindly, that it vas pleasant to remember. She was glad he came; it seemed to quiet the painful recollection she had of her meeting hi at Nahant. Colonel Winthrop spoke of her going as. of a visit she was making. ° "'If, nothing happens, I shall come. for you next year," he said. Ernest caught at this, idea, and wore a. more cheerful face than he had, for several days. As he was leaving for the night, his uncle said; " I saw Mr. Hillard this afternoon, and asked him to give you a holiday to-morrow. I want you'to drive about twenty miles from here with this young lady. Her baggage will go with Mr. Olcott, by the stage, and you can see her safely on board." This thoughtful kindness on the part of his uncle was so unexpected, that Ernest said goo-night I I 269 68 page: 270-271[View Page 270-271] 270 FIFTY YEARS AGO. with almost as light a heart as if h had been go-- ing all the way. The November sun strove to gladden the earth and give a cheerful look to the stirring city, as Er-. nest and Grace once more drove cut of it. The parting was past; her going was regretted in the household, from her uncle down t Ralph. This ride with Ernest was a great help to them both. There was so much to say, that the were in dan- ger of being behind the stage-hour. Grace looked at her watdh, which she wore for the first time to- day, and found it was necessary t drive a little faster. Ernest had messages for is father and mother, Annie and all the rest, not forgetting Doc- tor Allerton. They reached the appointed place, a little in advance of the stage-coach. Mr. Olcott and the trunks were both along with it. The horses were changed, the horn blew, and Ernest saw his sis er seated, and watched the wave of her handkerchief until the vehicle was out of sight. With a lonely heart he turned away and drove back to Boston. This sister's love had been one of the strong daily influences of his life. How would he get on without it now? It was a slight hope that she might come back the next year. He tried to shut out the thought that he should never again belong to the home circle as one of its daily members. He must work on manfully. He had a place to ill, and he would not lse strength in useless regrets. So, with thankful memories for the treasures he had in such safe keeping, he went back to his duties. He had no fe:r of being for- gotten in ~he welcome which would be extended 1 r 1a 1 4 { i 1 i 4. Y I 271 promised to write to him ng from experience how e tidings. FIFTY, YEARS AGO. to his sister, and she had p as often as possible, know the absent one values hon page: 272-273[View Page 272-273] CHAPTER XX. B EECHFORD AGA I.I- MR. OLCOTT proved himself an excellent traveling companion. He was about Colo- nel Winthrp's age, and had daughters older and younger than Grace. Without naay delays, the lumbering old stage-coach, the da it was due, drove up. to the little inn at A . The first face Grace saw was her father's. That dear face! how it beamed upon her, aid how tha hand clasped hers as it helped her from her seat ! Let those who have known a loving father's welcome understand how glad lher heart was. In a few moments, who should appear but Charles and Henry, grown taller, but smiling all over their happy faces! "I should think I had got hom," said Grace. "Did anybody else come with you ?' "No," said her father. "Arthur and Mary wanted to. It would not have take much to have brought your mother and Annie, too ; but I thought four would be enough for one wagon." 'Grace remembered to introduce her father to Mr. Olcott. He joined her in thanking him for his kindness, b the way, and then the tage rode off. (z) FIFTY YEARS AGO. r 4 ,3 . 4 3 Y i 4 t 273 "Is that big trunk you 's, Grace ?" said Charles, looking in amazement at the large one which the driver had set down beside the small one. Yes." "Whew !" says he. "They have big things in Boston, don't they ? What have you got in it ?" The boys .soon drove Fearnaught and Caesar round to the door, and, with their father's help, lifted the trunks into the wagon. They were very anxious to be on their way. They had so many questions to ask, they wanted their sister all to themselves. Deacon Winthrop had, of course, much to in- quire about her journey and of Ernest. The twenty miles were soon passed over. As the early twilight deepened into night, the '"oid house at home" came full in view. " Please stop at the corner of the garden, father, and let Grace go in -by herself," said Charles. Grace was quickly out of the wagon. and open- ing the gate, without making any noise, she went into the porch, and looked in the little window by the side of the door. Her mother and Annie were sitting . before the fire, in quiet expectancy, while Arthur and Mary had' gone to the window, for per- haps the tenth time in the' last five minutes. She lifted the latch, and in a moment her arms were about her mother's neck. "Gracel my. dear child, have you indeed co e !" Then the mother cast a longing look beyond her, as if Ernest must not be far away:,. Annie, Arthur and Mary all gathered round her, full' of rejoic ings. Deacon Winthrop and the two boys came 12* page: 274-275[View Page 274-275] in to see how she really looked a more. She had pictured just this meeting times during her absence. For the fi journey her thoughts had lingered ton friends, but as.she drew nearer h come before her and made her anxio with them. "Just look at this monstrous tru said Charles, as he helped bring in "I think Grace is as fine as Aunt La ra. Henry and I went out of si heard the stage coming. We wante her, and when we saw father helpin thought Cousin Laura must have take." "I think she is handsomer than' Henry. " I did not think she w When I used to see her every day, p thought any thing about it; but nd is very handsome. Don't you, moth We all love her so much; she lo to us,'' said the quiet, thankful mother ped briskly about, preparing tea. make haste, now, for father is hungry Grace will care more for something have us compliment her good looks. Annie, meantime, had taken her s and - cloak, and drawn-a chair close her. Mary, as of old, seated herself Arthur stood with his arm aroundhe '"Promise us you will never go said Mary. " We have wanted yo t home once a great many st half of her gith her Bos- me they had s to keep up nk,, mother," the baggage. Winthrop and ht, when we d to surprise her out, we ome by mis-. Laura," said as so pretty. rhaps I never w I think she r ?" ks handsomer r,as she step- But we must y, and I think to eat than to ster's bonnet o the fire for n her lap, and r neck. away again," u very day. FIFTY YEARS AGO. 274 t Y^' 9 i f i y 3 2 FIFTY YEARS AGO. Nobody tells us any stories now, for mother and Annie never have any time." "Tea is ready," said Charles, and the announce- ment wasfolloweci by a general gathering into the warm kitchen. "It does not loo much like your uncle's dining- room," said Mrs. Winthrop. "It looks very much like my ,old home," laid Grace, "and you look very much ,like the dear good mother I have always seen sitting at the head of the table." There was a hush, and from the earthly father's heart there went up to the heavenly Father a sim- ple petition for a. renewed blessing on every fresh token of His love. Grace had heard nothing like- it since she left that table morethan a year ago. "Ernest's seat seems very empty to-night," said. Mrs. Winthrop; "it seemed as if he must be com- ing with you, Grace." " I think mother is almost as much disappointed as if he had not come home with you two years ago," said Annie, trying to be cheerful over it. 'I am so glad to get one of you back that I feel like rejoicing." "So do I," said Mrs. Winthrop. "I am; sure Grace knows that well enough." Just as the tea was over, Aunt Loi slowly o en- ed the kitchen door and looked cautiously in. Grace saw her in a moment, and welcomed her as cordially as her kind heart could desire. "Wall, you've come, and I'm about as glad as I know how to be. I told Nannie that I must run over if it was dark. She's'got a dreadful cold, and 275g page: 276-277[View Page 276-277] l i 16 IT go he w m N sli ofl w lo n ti- ta to le toc eft her b'iling up a few yarbs to take just as she es to bed. Dear me, Mis' Winthrop! I don't lieve I should have known the child. She allurs uld rig up, and I suppose they have a good any notions in Boston that we don't git here. y caps haint had no kind of a look to um since. e went away." And the old lady gave the strings her ancient head-gear an extra smooth. "We've d a pretty=lonesome, time since you and Ernest ent away. I hope you'll stay to home now, as g as I live, at any rate." "Oh, yes !" said Grace. "I'm going to stay at me as long as mother will keep: me, and I will ake you and Aunt Nannie some new caps ; and ext Spring you and I will have nicer flower-beds an we have ever had." By this time Aunt Lois .had blown out the bit of allow candle that glimmered in her old lantern d set it down behind the door. "I'll take care of the dishes, Mis' VWinthrop. I id Nannie I should stay long enough to wash n, so you go right in t'other room; you may ave the door open, so as I can hear your voices. want to know for sartain that Grace has come, ad I can't stay long, 'cause Nannie wants to go bed." There was much to say when they were all gath- ed round the sitting-room fire. "'You have grown so heavy, Mary, that you ust not sit on your sister's lap," said Mrs. Win.. rop; and Mary, drawing her little bench close to er sister, contented herself with sitting as near her ;possible,:and occasionally resting her head on r R a h s s e m 'th 'a FIFTY YEARS AGO. FIFTY YEARS AG( . 2]7 her lap. .Arthur stood by her side and Charles and Henry sat on each side of her. It seemed so. ex- actly like the scene two years\ ago, when she and Ernest came from Boston, that Grace felt strangely lonely; but she cheered herself and them by telling all about his coming to her uncle's; of his success, and her uncle's satisfaction in finding how well he pleased his employers. She had a very attentive audience,,for the letters had told so little compared with their wish to know so much of all that con- cerned him. Though Grace was talking, she had time to look about her; it seemed strange that the rooms had grown so small and the ceilings so low. She was lure they could not always have been so, and yet everything was just as she had left it. Her moth- er's face, in the fpint light which fell upon it, looked weary and care-worn, and she felt th t it would have been wrong for her to have stayed away when she might lighten some of the burdens at home. Her father looked quietly glad, and the children seemed so deligl ted to see her that she knew they must have missed her sadly. "Well," said Deacon Winthrop, as the clock struck ten, "we are no nearer through being glad to see Grace, or coming to the end of her stories, than we were when she first came in, so I propose we shall go to bed and.take a fresh day for the rest." Charles had taken Ernest's place in. reading the chapter, and when Grace heard her father's prayer for the absent brother, she realized how fervently she had been remembered all the days she had page: 278-279[View Page 278-279] 278 FIFTY YEARS AGO. b'en. away. She went up to her room, so plain, c spared to the one she had occupied the past year, impressed with the feelings that her father and mother were very dear possessions, and that their presence in the old house would make up for t1 e lack of beauty there. Her mother's weary face tro ubled her, and she waited for Annie to come to ask if she was well. "Yes," said Annie; " but I think she has had too much to do all summer. When we talked of your coming home, and uncle wrote that letter, she hardy knew what to say. She really needed you so much, and yet she was sorry to send for you, whe they were all so unwilling to have you come, especially when your coming would leave Ernest alone." "You mean especially when you were going to run away and leave her. I don't know as I shall c sent to that." "Did Ernest, tell you I was going ?". "Yes; I do not want you to go, Annie; I shall m ss you very much ; I dread to think of it." "I thought you would bestised to it by this time. What is this ?" said she, suddenly attracted by the glitter of the chain which' had -been concealed By her dress. Grace took it from her, neck and placed it and the watch in her sister's hand. " Is this yours?" and "Who gave it to you ?" were questions which quickly followed each other. " It is mine, Annie, and some time I will, tell you all about it, I must tell you and mother, for I can- not enjoy having it without I do; but I do not. wish to tell anybody else." "Does it mean ton ?" "It means I cept as Grace V cannot tell it to you, and I want help you enough leave you'so lon to bed or we sha to sometimes. Y nothing of how] Mary had take ing t: keep awa was fast asleep a she was going t was, she could r wretched she w room, and all th She felt years of troubled. She h occupations agai ury that had sur not her own; it She should be s had missed her, a fully without .hin she did not regret the wife of Mr. always.as a pleas; to her old ways had ever left the again and try t( Thus comforting FIFTY YEARS AGO. 279 that you are going back to Bos- am not going back to Boston, ex- inthrop ; it isa long story, and I -night. I have a good deal to tell to hear all about your plans, and h to make up for going away to g; but good-night now, I must go 11 talk as long as Laura and I used tou look too tired for that, to say feel." n possession of Grace's bed, mean- ke until her sister came; but she Lnd could not enjoy the nice talk ) have with' her. Tired as Grace .ot sleep. She remembered how as the last night she slept in this at she had passed through since. der, and the life before her looked ad come back to take up her old n._ This was her place;' the lux- :ounded- her for the last year was vould be idle in ler to regret. it. lonely without Ernest; 'but he nd she must try to get on cheer- 1. Of one thing she was certain, t that she was not going back- as Lenox. She would, think of him mt friend; and after she got used again, she would forget that she m.She was going to be alchiild o think and feel as she used to. herself she fell asleep. I page: 280-281[View Page 280-281] 280 FIFTY YEARS AGO. Mary made up her lost opportunity by waking very early in the morning. She had a'great many things ,to tell her sister ; among others, that she met Doctor Allerton the afternoon before and told him that father and the boys had gone for her. " He and I are great friends," said she. Annie looked in to see if they were awake. "Must I come down and set the table ?" said Grace, laugh-. ing. If you are ready' to come down when it is ret, we will excuse you from anything else this morn- ing," said Annie. Grace was ready and received .a most hearty welcome as she toolk her old place. "I must go up. and see grandfather and grandmother this morning," said she. 1 . " Before you open your big trunk? I was going to stay at home from school on purpose to see what is in it," said Mary, looking very much dis- appointed. "Perhaps mother will let you go with me to grandfather's, and that will do as well, won't it ?"- Mary's face bright tened ; she was ready 'to ac- company her sister on her. morning visit. The first thing was to look into the little brown house and say, 4"How do-do," to the loving old inmates. Aunt Nannie seemed more feeble, but Aunt Lois said it was only her dreadful cold ; she would get well right away when she saw Grace sitting in her old corner again. " Nobody knows how we've missed you," said she ; " I had n't no heart for any thing last spring. Mary, here, set away with me to gather wild flowers, but she soon got tired of it, FIFTY YEARS AGO. 28.1 and my pinks and sweet Williams and roses hung on for days with nobody to make urn into flower- pots. I told Nannie last. night that I was dreadful 'fraid I should ear by and by that somebody was coming to take ou back to Boston to live." "No, Aunt Lois," said Grace, "I shave come back to help yo 'look after things.' You need not be afraid of losing me-it is Annie we are go- ing to lose. Mother and you could not spare us both." Aunt Lois wa a little comforted, but she could not quite believe, a she told Nannie, that Boston folks would let such beautiful " garl" as that come back to Beechford if they could help it. Grace found er grandfather and grandmother looking not a day older than when she left'them., The same restful, sunny old people, waiting for the ummnons which would transplant them to their heavenly home. They were delighted to see their granddaughter, and had many questions to ask after Ernest. "We miss the dear boy," said the old gentleman, wip- ing hid eyes. "I wish he could have found some thing to, do nearer home, but it does me good to see your face again. I was afraid, from what they told me, that your uncle would think he had a right to you." "Your mother has missed you, my child," said her grandmother, "and I am glad you have come back to her." The visit lasted until after dinner, and then, with blithe little lMary for her companion, she wenit back through the same path she so well remem page: 282-283[View Page 282-283] bered the day before she left home. The' walec and the call had done her good. The trunks were opened, and Mary's wonder- ing eyes feasted or their contents. Ahnie was very much' pleased ith her. dress. "It is some- thing I needed, but ever thought of having," said she. Mary's remark's over her sister's dresses were. most original and amusing. She was sure nobody in the world ever looked half, so pretty as she must have done in these beautiful things. Grace folded and carefully laid away her white silk, her pink crape and her soft, India muslins- they already began to seem to her things of the *past. . Then, she produced the garments she had made for Annie. "A whole set ! Why, Grace, such unexpected riches. will turn mf head !" and she sat down, hardly knowing whether to laugh or to cry. "You must thank Aunt Winthrop a d Laura. I nly made them; it as one of my greatest pleas- res last winter. Here is Ernest's gift. He told e to tell you he had had only one payment, so he ould not buy just What he wanted to" Annie untied the package and found a beautiful collar and a pair ofwhite gloves. '1 And here is omething to pin ypur collar with f om Laura ;" nd Grace handed her a little box containing a yery pretty breast-pin, the like of which Annie had never owned. "Do call mother, Mary," said Annie. '"I am so overpowered with my sudden wealth that I can- not xnve." Mother came, and smiled, in, her loving way, to see her daughters so happy. Mary had some useful remembrances, too. Her heart was bubbling over in its joy. First it was Grace, then it was her beautiful clothes, then it was Annie's fine things, then it was her own. It took Grace some weeks to get back into her old routine of home duties. Sometimes they seem- ed wearisome to her, but her love for her home and friends helped her over these points; and, as her old interests came back, she entered on her daily life with increasing desire to meet the de- mands upon.her. The second evening after ,her return she came into the sitting -room and found Doctor Allerton there talking with her father. She was conscious of blushing deeply at this unexpected 'meeting, and making a wrong answer to his pleasant greet- ing, but he did not seem to notice it, He was self- possessed as usual. He placed a chair for her near the fire, and began asking her of her journey and of Ernest. The mention of Ernest seemed to restore her quiet tone of thoughts. She delivered, his mes- sage, and spoke of her regret at leaving him. Then followed'a pleasant conversation, easily main- tained. She did not feel afraid of him, neither did he seem so near her father's age as she had im- agined him to be. His easy flow of choice lan- guage had not, in the least, diminished; and, on the whole, she passed the first dreaded interview with less embarrassment than she had anticipated. His letters seemed to her iiow a part of her Bos- FIFTH YEARS AGO., '.283 282 FIFTY YEARS AGO. w, 4 page: 284-285[View Page 284-285] 284 FIF Y YEARS AGO. ton life ; he made o allusions to the , and but for the fact that, in s me way, she un erstood and appreciated him m re than she used o, she would almost have believed 'that they had never been written. Annie expressed astonishment at er sociability with Doctor Allert n. She really belieyed she had grown older since she had been, away. So all of her friends said-nit less cheerful, but more digni- fied and womanly: The year had, indeed, been an evbntfuil one to her ; one-in which 'er character had developed rap- idly. Charles persisted in saying that she had grown handsome, and nore of her friends ere disposed to contradict him. Charlie Thorn and Edward Nelson declared that she had grow just a little haughty, but that was only because they did not understand the change. She was no longer the light-hearted, thoughtless girl they had known all of their lives but she was justas good a friend. Sandford ,oss playfully told her that it was Annie's mantle of eldest daugh- tership falling on her that impressed er so much. She found the old church as muc changed as her father's house. It had grown so small and plain. It seemed to her, as shesat n her seat in the choir, that one could almost shake hands across the galleries. Her good, common sense, made her keep all of these impressions to herself. Sometimes she would tell Charles, who was fast growing i sto her confi- dence, and who was highly amused a~ her descrip- tions;. but these ,thoughts quickly ~passed away, FIFTY YEARS ' AGO. 285 and she, " a natural branch," was soon at home in her "own olive-tree," realizing where her love. and duty lay. She told her mother and Annie the story of the watch. She could not wear it until. she had dole this. Mrs. Winthrop was heartily sorry for Mr. Lenox, but glad her daughter had come back to her. "I did not tell any body all the fears I had," said she. "If I had not been so afraid of loping you, I should have borne your absence better, but it has all come out right in the end." Grace did not mention Mr. Rexford, it was not necessary, neither had she told them of her corres- pondence with Doctor Allerton. She knew .how highly her- father aid mother esteemed him, and that he had done nothing of which they would not approve. Perhaps that was all past now, and, if it as, silence was its best keeper. The days were very busy ones, and Grace rmiss- ed Ernest every-where. Thanksgiving carne and went-a good, old festival, though Ernest was.not in it. Doctor Allerton spent the.evening at Deacon Winthrop's, and seemed quite at home in the family. His manner to Grace was deferential and friendly,-but nothing more. In writing to Ernest, she said, "Your friend Doctor Allerton was very polite' to mother, and made many inquiries about you. He treats me as if I was a strange lady-some distant connection of the family. I thought I might feel sorry for the obligation our correspondence would almost insen.. sibly impose, but I might have spared myself, for he has evidently forgotten it." ; page: 286-287[View Page 286-287] CHAPTER XXI.' A WEDDING. T last the all-important day for I ..X.ding was appointed, and there' between now and then to make Grace: thing else. "I am going to be dress-f occasion," said she, " and must proce my room to receive orders from the' So she negotiated .with' Henry and make 'her a work-box and keep it filled unused fireplace was soon glowing w warm fire, the little table was set out, appointed seamstress proceeded to make up her sister's wardrobe ; ver was, compared with the present day;; b she wanted ; Grace's skillful fingers ma brown silk a marvel 'of beauty-alm .-Annie thought she' should not feel a Julia Thorn and Mary Ross came oc admire and help, too; for their needle flying, and their interest quite inspix the dress-making was all done, Grace V kitchen, where Aunt Lois was now ever, doing nameless household thin Nannie," said she, ' that we sha'n't get (86) FIFTY YEARS AGO. 287 with spinnin this winter. At least, I sha'n't ; for, when weddi gs come, they must be attended, to. I don't knov,. for my part, how we are going to keep house ithout Annie. I tell Nannie I reckon she'll be missed; but I suppose she must go. Sandford is a nice young man, and, fter all, if she don't go now, there's no knowing then she will. There always comes a little easing up time after .butchering, and between us all I guess we can man- age to wait on company." Aunt Lois always had a way of -answering her own objectio s. She had grown used to comfort- ing herself and Nannie, and usually managed to be cheerful when the time to need it came."Be- tween them all,1' as Aunt Lois said, loaves of nicely frosted cake an a variety of good cheer stood in waiting for the occasion. Grace had got some new 'deas which she could make available, without extra expense. She was very happy in all the comm tion. It was just the thing to brinback her old spirits and make, her fully at hom again. She found Charles a most efficient helper, and very companionable, too. 'I tell you what,' Grace," said he, one evening, throw- ing down his book, "I can't learn much until this wedding is over, and I don't mean to try. .I've been casting the interest on a bigger sum of mo- ney than I ever expect to see out of this arithmetic, and all it comes to is ' so many cups of sugar,' and 'so many cups of butter,' and 'two dozen eggs, white and yolks' beaten separately.' Now, what's the use, did you know I made cake when you were gone?" nnie's wed- was enough orget every aker for the ed to fit up ride elect." Arthur to The long ith a bright, and .the self- emodel and y simple it utit was all le the pretty ost too fine t home in it. :asionally to es were fast ing. When rent into the )ftener than gs. "I tell along much V , ,-- ,, , - , , '_ , page: 288-289[View Page 288-289] 288 FIFTY YEARS AGO. "Cake! Charles," said his mother ; -when ?" " Well, I did twice in harvest. Yo expected to fill yoir place: I had to se fast table just as often as Annie could 'Besure, I always forgot the plates, or or the tea-cups; but a litte help was none. Then, when Ernest went, I w to be Ernest, and I was Charles always -a good deal to stand for three people of feet. -' It wore on -me,' as Aunt Lc you had staid away much longer, you found me an old man in spectacles." Grace laughed, and Mrs. Winthrop sa "that it was strange how boys would As the time drew near, Arthur and very mysterious at school,.and hurried moment it was out, fearing they woul important particular. Annie, with her went about as usual,- taking last stit brothers, and appearing to be an unimp in the scenes. Early in February, when the moon s and the sleighing happened to be v eventful evening came. About a hur had been invited. The fires, up stair were all lighted before dinner and k briskly through the day. ".Try tc warm," Deacon Winthrop kept say woods can hold out for Annie's we won't send her away cold." The boys heaped on the wood, until gan to fear the chimneys would get on f "I wonder u see, I was t the break- I catch me. the knives, better than as expected Now, it's on one pair is says. If would have igely added, talk." Mary were d home the d lose some quiet ways, hes for her iortant actor one brightly ery fine, the dred guests ; and down, ept burning " keep folks ing. "Our, lding. We. mother be- ire. Grand- "" FIFTY YEARS AGO. 289 mother's dishes and spoons were on duty, and her bright brass candlesticks, too. She had sent half a box of her nicest tallow candles, made on purpose for this occasion, and Grace had disposed ofther with an eye to effect. Aunt Lois had brought over a basket of dishes, out of a closet she ,seldom opened, except to brush away the dust, and Julia Thorn and Mary Ross had contributed from their households. They had also helped Grace tie ever- green wreaths for the walls and mirrors, and over the- high mantel-shelves. The new striped carpet, which Mrs.. Winthrop and Annie, with the help -of Aunt Nannie and Aunt Lois, had made duringtghe year, -h~d been .put on the .sittingeroom floor, and ave it 4 look of added warmth and cheerfulness. The bride was dressed and waiting., Her silver- rey silk was very becoming. Ernest's gift of col- ar and gloves, and Laura's pin, were just what-she eeded. Like Grace, she had soft, abundant hair. This her sister had dressed and adorned with a hoice wreath, one which she, had worn herself the reviou winter. Taking her as she stood ready, when the hour came, Annie Winthtrop wassweet rusting bride--such an one as the eye likes to rest pon-fr something whispered, as youbeholhr, The heart of her husband doth safely trust in her; she will do him good and not evil all the days of his life.' Grace wore her blue, cashm-ere,4azglit was always very becoming. Her mother ha in- sisted upon her being warmly dressed, forshe must, in er manifold duties, get into draIgts ad be exposed to taking -cold. Her own tastefor fitness readily corwented to the blue. cashnwe page: 290-291[View Page 290-291] 290 FIFTY YEARS AGO. But little Mary was sadly disappointed; 'she thought Grace would look so beautif 1 in that pink crape she wore in Boston. Her hair as arranged in the way Laura so much loved to see it, and fast- ened back with an ornamental comb, .a belonging of her last winter's toilette. She was so absorbed in' Annie, and the desire to have every thing pass off pleasantly, that she scarcely thou ht of herself. Mary wore her crimson dress, and felt very..con- scious of being arrayed for 'a great occasion. Grandfather and grandmother came early, 'and were seated in state in the- warmest corner. Charles and Henry were charged with opening the doors, snuffing the candles, and arious other important small things.' Aunt Nan ie and Aunt Lois took possession of the kitchen, ith most reli- able intent to respond fully to the various demands upon its resources. The man who was Deacon. Winthrop's principal help. on the arm had the fires in charge, and another man, ho was often employed as a day-laborer, was instructed to help look-after the horses at the door. And now every 'thing was ready ; only Ernest was not there ; but they knew he would not come.. So Mrs. Winthrop, in he black silk dress and tasteful' cap, with her face both: sad and glad, went into the spare-room and sat down near the two windows. Deacon Winthrop was not 'far away. The guests had all come, and their good pastor, Mr. ilson,' stood waiting. There was a sudden husc, for Charles and Grace came in and stood near their mother'. Then' Arthur and Mary,.'and' then the bridegroom and 'the bride. Henry followed and stood by his . grandm spoken, ceiving kiss, and thing w to enjoy Doctor tributing nature h out seem her assist She cou or not'; Annie w ties, and place. S presence somewhe Annie bo Charlie T and attend yond a ce ing to th evening an d magn H re Gra Doctor Al An ie was co e to h itor. Erne Do tor Al his gentle, abl. FIFTY YEAR AGO. 29" there's chair. The .few fitting words : ere and Annie Winthrop was 'Mrs. Ross, re- her father's blessing; her mother's warm 'the congratulation of her friends. Every ent off pleasantly, and every body seemed the evening. Grace was conscious that Allerton was doing his share in. con= to the' general enjoyment. His -genial d never shone more conspicuously, with.. ing to do so. She knew that he came to tanc many times during the evening. d not have told whether she was happy t seemed so strange that dear, reliabe s really going away from all herold du- hat in the future she must try to filliher, he wis conscious that Doctor Allerton's was ia relief to* her, a sense of strength e, without which, wanting Ernest and h, she would have been desolate indeed. hornl and Edward Nelson were very kind ive, gut their friendship never went be- tain; point with her. Mrs. Ross,:accord fas ion of those days, gave a.« second edd ng" for 'her son; thus 'prolonging' ifyin the occasion as 'much as possible. e had a long, pleasarit conversation with lerton. She was in rather a lonely mood. Sto be left in her new home, never to er.faher's house again, except.as a vis st was, in all probability, as surelygone lerton seemed to 'understand this, and thoughtful manrher was very ac ept +l page: 292-293[View Page 292-293] 29? FIFTY YEARS AGO. She thought of it after she got home that night,. and wondered'if he had forgotten whit he told her the afternoon before she went away. He. must have changed his mind now, for le had never alluded to it, or even to the letters. She had met him quite often during the winter, 1ut, save for a consciousness she always had that he knew she was present, and' from some quiet anticipation of her wishes, she felt that they were more strangers' than they had been during her absence. She never joined the girls in their laughing sur- mises about him. She seemed not to hear them. She knew that he was a general fa yorite, but the impression seemed to be that he was more devoted to his profession, and the interests of education, than to, any lady in particular. Well, why should she care? She certainly had no claims on his par-. ticular attention. She had fled from is unexpected declaration, and refused to be mote than a very indifferent friend. She wished s ,,e had never consented to correspond with him for then she should never have cared whethe he spoke to her or. not. Cared for him! .Wh said she did care .for him, with his grand indiference? She was sure she did not. If she could only have loved Mr. Lenox, she would hav shown how little' she cared, for him! .But thai was all past,. and she had enough to fill up every moment of her life. She would try to be to her mother all that Annie had been, and forget the range reams which had disturbed her for the last. two years. She. could not go back to Boston, however much they might want her. Mother and the boys need- FIFTY YEARS AGO. 293 ed her more -than any body else ; and, with an at- tempt at cheerful resignation, she at last fell asleep. The first few months after Annie's wedding seeme very strange at the old mansion. She had never een from home many days-at once; it seem- ed as i she must come back and fill her accustom- ed plage, but the household moved on. Aunt Lois said Grace was as "spry about the house as. she used to be climbing rocks." Her mother often commended her for her helpful ways. The boys were rowing more helpful, too. Charles had be- come o accustomed to answer his mother's calls while race was away, that he fitted in very nicely. He wa a great comfort to.his sister; he was so compa ionable, and her influence over him showed itself i" many little refining ways. Henry had a decided taste for study, and found in Doctor Al- lerton an encouraging and helpful friend. Mary was very fond of her sister. She missed Annie, and had never half forgiven Sandford Ross for tak- ing he away; but she comforted herself by saying uncle ould never take Grace to Boston any more. Ernest and Laura wrote occasionally, so that she was to erably well informed of what was going on in thei circle. She never read to her r other the portion s of Laura's letters 'whichspoke of her com- ing ba k to them with so much certainty ; it seem- 'ed to her at present very impossible ; her duty evide tly was to stay at home ; she would be an excell nt daughter and sister all the days of her life ; a d thus thinking, she went out into the opeii. ing Spring. Annie's new'home was another source _ ," r 1 ' , r Fir , (' l t 4 r .. 7 ~ ; } - : . . , ,- '. , .} y' , "' ..3 4, l r . page: 294-295[View Page 294-295] 'I"' "' I '294 FIFTY YEARS AGO. of pleasure, and Sandford Ross, with his kind brotherly ways,. added to her list of real friends. She was quietly happy and' very busy, more thoughtful than .when we first met her three years before. She had had much occasio 'for thinking in these three years, and its results were written in the sweet expression of her beautiful face. "Grace has grown so womanly,' her mother would say to Annie. " I used to think she would never care-for anything serious,.like plain house-, hold ways. I expected when she went to Boston things there would be so much to her mind that she would never care to come home to live again. We can't always tell, but I should have expected she would 'have found in that Mr. Len x the very' things to please her. Sometimes I think now that, she is a little too sober for her, and yet I can't think anything really troubles her." "Oh, no !" said Annie, Et she is always very cheer- ful when'I see her. She misses Ernest, and I sip-. pose has not got quite accustomed o being' the eldest at home. I do not believe she egrets leav- ing Boston." " It's home where the heart is,' you know, moth- er, and I do not believe Grace's heart is in Boston." Mrs. Winthrop was so accustomed to counsel with her eldest daughter, that she still clung to her, and often sent for her to come and spend the day when she was more than usually oppressed. Thus the world moved on until June. The day had been lovely; every unfolded leaf and bud had waved a perfume in the quiet air. The birds had warbled volumes of sweet melodies, and now in P T 1 I ' 1 f 1 It S FIFTY YEARS AGO. 29S the hi and w moon "TI gig!" say t1 most In Henr Qrace grow fasten the oa te ev yersa struc possi riy n this No thing him. ant n little iad s dveni egat its pl ferh you that PY sh of early twilight Grace sat in the porch. tched the shadows. of the elm as the rising peeped through it. ere comes Doctor Ailerton in his span-new said Henry. "I heard'the boys at school at he had one. Look, Grace ! it shines al- qual to uncle's." moment .it was at the gate, and Charles, 4,Arthur and 'Mary had gone out to see ite did not join the admiring group. She had very dignified of late. Doctor Allerton d his horse, and coming into the porch took ken chair and, commenting on the beauty of ening, fell quite aturally into pleasant con- ion. Suddenly rising, as if a new-idea-had him, he said : "Come, Miss Grace! 1si't it le for you to get up a little enthusiasm over ew gig, and go with me in it over to thellake eautiful evening." w Grace had made up her mind, from sundry s of late, that she was more than indifferent to Here was a fine opportunity; but his epeas- anner disarmed her, and then she was just a lonely, thinking of the many ha py hours she pent with Ernest in this old porch on just such ngs as -this. So she hesitated in the prompt ive she was prepared to give, and supplied ce by saying, "Mother is tired to-nghtfand ps .may need me." .ere she comes!" said Doctor Allerton. "Are so very busy this evening, Mrs. Winthrop, gou cannot spare Miss Grace to tike a ride in ew gi i ,, 1 ' i page: 296-297[View Page 296-297] 296 FIFTY YEARS AGO. FIFTV YEARS AGO. 297 "No,'' said Mrs. Winthrop; ".Grace can go if she chooses." "I really see no good reason for excusing you," said he, turning to Grace and extending his hand as if to help her rise. "While you get your shawl and bonnet, I will show your mother what a com- fortable carriage we have." So I'm to- ride when his lordship condescends to ask me, thought Grace, as she gathered up her things by the moonlight which streamed into her window. "I wonder I care to go." She did not hurry'; she, came slowly. down-stairs and -lingered in the porch, not long, for Doctor Allerton came quickly, and with a protecting care quite unnecep- sary, considering th;e shortness and security of the way, led her to the carriage. "I wish I 'was going," said Mary. " Isn't there room for me, Doctor, if mother will let me go ?" "Some other time I will take you," said Doctor Allerton, and with a cheerful good-bye they rode away. Yoi and I, dear reader, have 'certain invisible privileges; if we chose we might go with Doctor Allerton on his moonlight ride; but we think they have a right to enjoy it entirely' to themselves;. only we cannot help knowing that the horse went very slowly on his way to the lake ; that the moon- beams fell on the rippling waters very beautifully, but all unheeded by the occupants of the new gig; and that the new gig itself might have been only ah ordinary wagon for any special notice it'g-ot after its first starting. But the ride -marked a new era in the lives of Hugh Allerton and Grace Winthrop. r l i 1 t 1 A , 1 t t ,; 3 natu Doc for by the toh had friend ing. ea hop - e wha she of L miss sati priv the he adv Of 1 On see wha gro- liev stor for ag i pa h tha~ ith all the determined purpose of'his intense re, after his first six months' acquaintance, tor Allerton resolved to win 'Grace Winthrop his wife. Forced to a premature confession, er sudden going from: ome, he only obtained lightest possible hope n her consent to rely is letters. Richly gifted as a letter-writer, \he availed himself of her 'love for 'her'home and ds for subjects of real interest to her in wri Her replies convinced him that she was not y of the correspondence; with this meager ,he had been obliged to rest until her return. expressed his gladness at her coming, uncertain t he had to expect from any new acquaintance ad formed. All winter .he had been mindful er, filling up the places where he ,knew she ed Ernest, leading her on in pleasant conver-- n, but never overstepping the bounds. of a ileged acquaintance. He made no' allusion;to letters that had passed between them, because ished her to feel that he would take no undue antage of her consent to correspond with him. ate he believed she was not indifferent to him. e in possession of this hope, he felt justified in ing to end his long probation. The result was t might ;be expected. Doctor Allerton had n to be more of Grace's daily life than she be- d could be possible; and as she listened to the y of his deep devotion and patient waiting, she ot how she had been, tryingto steelyherhart nst him, and promised to walk with him ina way to. outwardseeming .far more-rugged the one in which d: L' nox rowld have ld ~'~1 page: 298-299[View Page 298-299] .! r=. ' il " 5} s it ,' _Cr \ r ,f 1 Y'P '., ' I ' 1 ' X 1 } Y+' ,5 .',4 (: I ' r ' i {. 1 !i ) t " L ' i 1' n ! l 'y .' r .# i L" ' 1 { 't . , f , ,y , ,.:_ , "'. ' a 98 FI'Y Y EARS AGO. her, but she minded not the outward seming. Dotor Allertons love was the shadow it which she could rest- when her footsteps were weary. this:time .her heart responded to its call" s truly. as it phad grown. sill and heavy when Mr Lenox sought to win it. It' was late when the new gig brought th riders back to the gate under the elm tree. After seeing Grace. safely within the unfastened. door, Doctor Allerton, with a rejoicing heart, drove' on to his home. He drore slowly still, for he was glad to be out in the air, he wanted all the spac9 about him to expand his thoughts and take in his new position. He wanted - room to comprehend that the beautiful girl who seemed so beyond his reach had comeback to him more beautiful than ever; that she had listened to his story, and with all the, sweet trust peculiar to her nature, given him the, love he had so earnestly sought and so long waited for. He had half a mind to turn back an see if the house, which held this new treasure~ itually' stood quiet and still where he had left it half an hour. before. "Second thoughts" do come, how-. ever, onall occasions, and Doctor Allerton's took him home in perfect safety. Grace was glad everybody had gone to bed. She answered her mother's inquiries and did her 'bdding about fastening the door, andthen went up to her room and sat down by the open xindow' -~-at thinking, thinking.. Like a "long ~trange dteatn;:the events ofithe last three years pas ed be- f other. Her shate in them seemed almost un- ' Some;power utaide herself andeg nde {i f I i 1 i I' : ; Ufr 1I:' T y a'7T - 'a q . FIFTY YEARS AGO. 2 er comprehension must have been lead ng Jher. he contrasted Doctor Allerton as he semsed'#t$ er ,hat September afternoon, and as he send to h r to-night, and wondered whether he or s e ad changed so much: She saw now that-it was eca se she ,was learning to love DoctorAlryp hat r. Len x had no place. She could not spie he ystery; so she gave it up, content to goto lee with an undefined sense of a new blessi esti g on her daily life. D acon and Mrs. Winthrop consented to, give hei daughter to Doctor Allerton more willingly han they would have done to any body else. In her .-heart, Mrs. Winthrop wanted, to keep er herself. She would have been piite contest, n this case, with Paul's suggestion-" He that ive h her in marriage doeth well; but he that ive h her not in marriage doeth better.",Still.she ad no reasonable objection; it was selfish, if she nal zed it; and when she remembered howpos- ible it would have been for her' to have los1 her in os on, she grew reconciled. C arles was a little indignant at first, e hid re t respect for Doctor Allerton; but just a 1he as beginning to enjoy himselfwith Grace6tas nean in him to come and take{her away. l^e.hd _.g od mindto go from home himself. At y cate he should not car& half as much abut her«s le id before; but after awhile even, this #rc itwa , and he found Gace was not.so wonder ha ged as he had thought she would b A engagements were not announced , o e lay , the fact revealed itself to them 4nnd of.f3 t , ;r. page: 300-301[View Page 300-301] f 300 FIFTY YEARS AGO. good people of Beechford, by a series of gradual' convictions. Nobody wondered that Doctcr Aller- ton should fancy so lovely a girl as Grace Win- throp; and, after the usual adjusting of the affair i, the public mind'it came to be an accepte thing. Of course, this settled the question of her next year in Boston. During the sumner, she wrote to Lauraof her new' plans, leaving her to see that it would be im- possible for her to- go home with them n Sep- tember, and asking her to tell her father and mother so. Laura's congratulations were mingled wit many regrets. "I had so set my heart on having you here next winter," she wrote, " that I can hardly forgive Doctor Allerton for interfering w th my arrangements. I wanted you for my ride's-. maid and my chief counsellor in many things. How can I consent to your engagement ! Father looks blank, and mother is ready to cry over it- they-felt so sure of you to fill my place for time, at least.. Father says he shall not go to Beech- ford in September, for, as mother continues not strong, she will not be able to accompany s, and hi'principal object was to bring you hom. He says, in his decided way, 'Doctor Allerton i a fine man, I liked him very r uch, but we anted Grace in Boston.' Henry says this accounts for ydur indifference to good people in general ; and, ' add, 'Did n't I tell yob so, Grace Winthrop, when you would keep up that crepnnieand enjoy those letters so much !' I think Doctoi Aller- ton has proved himself very skillful in accomplish- S r I 1- e 11 b a c b 0 0 p a c FIFTY YEARS AGO. 301 g his ends. HI has really out-generaled us all d carried off the prize." Dodtor Allerton smiled very quietly over this tter, which Grace gave him to read. He remem- ered when her going had been to him the cause hidden pain, and her knowledge of the fact had nly made her the more glad to go. Now his ex- ressed wish would detain her willingly; and with glad feeling of conscious power he left her to nsole her cousin as best she might. Ern st received the tidings with real pleasure. s he ecame acquainted with other men, his' re- ect for Doctor Allerton increased. It was a sor- Dw to give up the hope of seeing his sister in oston the next winter ; but he was not sure that is mother would have consented to her coming yen if no new causes had detained her. Charles wrote him a comical description of Weirr mother's consternation- when she found that [e must give up her second daughter. "She kes Doctor Allerton too much to make any real xcusc," wrote he;. " apd father tels' her that she et her daughters the example, and what else can be expect. Now my fate is sealed. I shall have be all things in the household until Mary grows p. I had a mind to let Doctor Allerton know Liat I regarded him as interfering rather too much iith our matters when he got our Grace. Finally, gave it up. What's the use ? I could n't change ny thing; and, if she will marry, I don't kiow iho I should like half so well. When I 'get mad vern it, mother says we 'cannot expect to keep together always, and that it is a blessing to have I page: 302-303[View Page 302-303] 'r .' i +J j ;i 1 '! - 't t - 302 FIFTY YEARS AGO. good, intelligent people in the family. Gi ace might. have staid in Boston, and then I would never have seen her nany more times in my life." " Well, Grace," said her grandfather, when, in process of time, he learned the fact of her engage- ment, "I am glad to hear this. I have always liked Doctor Allerton, and I have always thought he liked you. I'm glad you did not find any body out to Boston. I used to tell your grandmother that I was afraid you would have such a notion for riches that you would 'never want to come back to us again. I tell you what, child ! when any body is as near the end o life as I am, it is pretty plain what is worth living for. Doctor Allerton is an excellent young man, and I hope you will make as good a wife as your mother and grandmother r have done." i 3 i r t } h1 1 fe sh S u b a vr I CHAPTER XXII. ANOTHER FAMILY CHANGE. )A S we over another year, leaving its mci- dents unrecorded. Laura's bridal festivities "d gohe on without her cousin's sharing in them; rs. Winthrop's health not improving,. Colonel inthrop urged Mr. and Mrs. Marshall's remain- g with him. This they consented to do, Laura eling unwilling to leave her mother, alone until le grew stronger. Grace had found each day full of occupation. he had endeavored to lighten her mother's tasks, nd her mother had managed to. leave her-many interrupted hours. in which she could ply her usy needle in her own service. She had ,found pleasure in ,Doctor i Allerton's companionship which gave promise of a happy future. He rought her .as many books as she -had 'time to "ad; and some delightful . rides she took in that mfo table gig. Julia Thorn was still her chosen. friend, and leasant hours they passed during the wuter n Grrace' s room wherethe bright fire and we 1 flled (303) ;' t , '4, ,t !f3' . ",'t 2 ,r % r t, 1 LT'tzF ; "r r iY page: 304-305[View Page 304-305] FIFTY YEARS AGO. wood -box bore witness to Henry and Arthur s faithfulness. Julia Thorn and Edward Nelson were looking forward to a united home some day, so the girls had a new link of sympathy between them. Aunt Nannie's spring bleaching exceeded all her' former efforts. She and Aunt Lois were very much pleased with the' idea of Grace's marrying Doctor Allerton..- He. had grown to be quite an oracle with "hem, and they wanted her to have what they called a nice outfit. " Lois," said Aunt Nannie, one day, as she sat by her "chest of draw" carefully looking them over, "here's a pair of my fine linen sheets. I spun them before Grace was born. They are as handsome sheets a§ you'll see any where, and as white asi snow. I never used them a dozen titnes in my life, and 'taint likely I shall ever want them. I'm a good mind to give them to Grace-she'll set store gy them." "So she will," said Aunt Lois, "and you've plenty to last without them. I thought I'd look up a couple of pair of mi e ; we've got more than e shall use,_and I want to give her something to remember me by, dear Ghild." And Aunt Lois wiped away the tears which would come. Again' the old mansio$ gives tokens of some coming event., It is a lovely morning in the latter part of June;. the doors and windows are -'all open; beautiful bunches of fragrant roses are on the shelves and on the .tables;'\and ini the fire-places in the "spare room" and sitting-room re the old familiar jars [: Y, , , f , fil L of 01 bf tc la to ir ir fr ti u h, fc NN a h IL h tr a e ti 304 FIFTY YEARS AGO. 305 led' Wth feathery asparagus and roses. Aunt is hac brought buds and blossoms; all the wealth her fitle garden was her silent offering on this entful, day. Deacon Winthrop, in his Sunday st, sits in the oaken chair in the porch, and there,, o, is Ernest, looking fresh and strong in his early anhoo4; he is chatting familiarly with his father topics which interest him in his new field of or. Charles, Henry and Arthur- look impor- nt and expectant. Sandford Ross has just come and t.ken his seat with them. Annie is up-stairs the toom where another bride is dressing. It is rdly necessary "to say that it is our Grace, and she puts the finishing rose-buds, all dewy and sh, in her beautiful hair, we need not wonder at Annie, who is seldom moved to enthusiasm, ters expressions of affectionate admiration over r lovely sister. The dress we may recognize r it is the same rich white silk which shg has orn qrnly twice before on her coming out in Bos- n. With practical good sense she had fitted this r the occasion. The beautiful lace she had worn ith it had been folded ever since shecame home, ld now it tastefully decorated it again.'W-Ernest ad brought her a package from her Aunt and aura containing some valuable gifts. I-er uncle d ahlo remembered her very kindly. Hey busy, stefu -';fingers had put every thing in order ; it was tonis ing what an outfit she had. Her toilette as co pleted; her face had quiet, thoughtful pres~ on, which added to her youthful digniity. "0 l, Grace !" said Mary, following Arinie into herto6 ,"I wish every body could see how beaw. -,l :,' , page: 306-307[View Page 306-307] 'I 306 FIFTY YEARS AGO. tiful you look," and with careful loving finge s she smoothed the folds of he dress as if she wou d ex- press to it her fondness for the wearer. There was a fluttering in and out of white dresses. Julia Thorn and Mary Ross had been there all the morning arranging flowers and as- sisting generally ; they'had been dressing, too, and were now joining Annie. and Mary in surveying the bride.. Grandfather and grandmother had comelooking quietly happy. " I did n t expect to wait for this wedding," said the dear o! d gentleman. "I feel as young as I did when I ca e to see Sandford carry away Annie. I cannot xpect to be here when little Mary goes; but the Lord knows best and I must bide my time." The .guests were now arriving fast, until in a short time every body had come. Ernest conc uct- e Doctor Allerton to his fair bride. As he ook her hand and looked into her deep blue eyes, so' tender and womanly in their uplifting to his, hat wonder is it if his proud, thankful heart was ful1 of unspoken happiness! She was to be his cornan- iort until death should part them ; he had toiled to win, but this hour repaid it all. In a few moments they. were standing between the two windows in the spare room listening to Mr. Wilson. as he asked God's blessing on their coming vows. Then the words were spoken which made them one, andas Grace stood receiving the warm congratulations of those she loved, she; could scarce realize the oc- casion, or believe she was going out from home bearing another name and with a new protector- "'~ 't,.' , t f a a a a a a a e f t t .2 s C t FIFTY YEARS AGO. O It 4as a very social, pleasant wedding. The ridegroom did not forget his. character as enter- aier, and was, as usual, self-possessed and thought- il for others. It was strange how stiffness melted way under his efforts to dispel it at any gathering, nd to-day he was too happy not to diffuse his spirit 1 about him. Ch'rlie Thorn and Edward Nelson 'ere there; they h d changed less than their early laymate, but they had never ceased to be friends Mrs. Winthrop- was far more cheerful than she ould have been without Ernest, and. Annie was t ho e, going about as .if she had never been way. The grand old elm seemed to spread itself new to keep out the rays of the summer's sun, nd the birds came into the branches and sang some f their choicest melodies. The delicious home- iade entertainment was abundant and :tempting. nnielhad been there several days; bringing all her xperimental knowledge-into service. Doctor Allerton had so many friends that at .rst he had -proposed. to have the wedding at the hurch ; but as this did.not meet Mrs..Winthrop's views . it was given up and the invitations confined o mutual friends. Doctor Allerton had arranged o take a vacation of two weeks, and in' that time isit his mother whom he had not seen for a year. About three o'clock his neat gig and strong, hand- ome horse was brought to the door. Grace had hanged her bridal dress for a traveling habit and was standing with her fiends grouped about her. Charles and Henry brought down the same little runk that had accompanied -her on her former ourneys. page: 308-309[View Page 308-309] 308 FIFTY YEARS AGO. FIFTY YEARS AGO. 309 How is this, Doctor ?" said Ernet "this y lady and that trunk belofig to my spirit of a ture. Suppose we leave yrou to look after thi folks while we set out to peek our fortunes ag "'I will leave you with the cares this time,' the happy Doctor. "I will see that the young and the trurik are well looked after." Grace's good-byes would have been prolo for an indefinite time, had not Doctor Allerto her to the carriage, telling her playfully that it vacation now, and they must improve every ment of it. Shelingered long enough to pu arm round Ernest's neck nd whisper, "Good my darling brother. Love me always." And she was gone, Then came the reaction which follows the parture of the bride. Thy guests kept going only the family were left. And as the twi shades came on, the flowers drooped and thec cares came over the hoqsehqld. Ernest felt and desolate. This was his first visit .homc came a week before the wedding and had enj his old, boyish freedom exceedingly. . He had some delightful talks with Gracey Until she really gone, he had not realized that she was n, going to live there :any more, or how lone would be without her. jhe thought made restless, and he wandered out over the hill change the scene. He djd not care. to call where- to-night, for every place reminded hir his bright, joyous young sister -his compa everywhere. When he carhe home he found hi ther mother, Charles, Henry and the two young oung ven- sick ain ?" said lady nged n led was mo- t her -bye, then de- nmtil light old sad he oyed had had ever y it him s to ny- 1' of nion s fa- ger children sitting on the porch. "Do you remember, mother," said he, as he.joined them, "that it was just'such an evening as this, four years-ago, that Grace and I sat here planning that wonderful journey to Boston.? How wild you thought we were !' " Iwas a wild thing, Ernest, for you two young peopl to go off on such :a journey, btit it-has all come out right ; only I wish you were nearer home. Do you really think it w s the best thing you could do to go away from Be chford ?" " Yes, mother, the very best. course I lose a great deal of pleasure in not coming to this dear old spot every day of my life, but I can be a more useful man where I am. I must go abroad carry- ing t1e lessons you and father have taught me.; these oys will fill my place here." "I'i going to be a doctor,'' said Henry.; "my mind is made up for that. Doctor Allerton says he wil help me; he thinks it is the best thing I can d. "It looks like something a good way off, your being a doctor," said his mother; " but 'I used to think it would be a great while before Annie, Er.. nest and Grace would leave me, and before I knew it the time has comb." " Rather a lonely time,.too, isn't it, mother ?" said' Charles. ''I don't know how I'm going to stand .it without Giace. I thought this morning when I saw what a tine looking man Doctor AIler- ton was, and how like a gentleman all his Gays were, was quite willing he should have our Grace but nightgt I feel just as. if he was a robber aidi ~' page: 310-311[View Page 310-311] 310 FIFTY YEARS AGO. had stolen every thing I don't believe I w speak to him if he was coming in this minute.' Charles looked so indignantly grieved, tha mother said soothingly, "'It will -come mor again some time, Charles, and then you will foi the robber; things look to us so differentl' daylight." "I, don't ink this will. I wish you had al for me in ycur business, Ernest, I believe I w go back wit you." "Oh no, you would not!" said Ernest. "F and mother depend very much on you. boy, you are.. going to see Grace in less than weeks. When do you think I shall see her and I g-ewv up together, sharing each other's and sorrows. She helped me over many a diff spot. I do not know what I should have without her my first six months in Boston ; now-months and years may go by and I shall n see her. ':If it 'had not been for Doctor Allerto think I should have seen her in Boston every while you would have been the' one to lose What' do yot say to that ?t' 'To-night, I say, children had better stay at h with their parents, and not go to running off' strangers," said Charles, smiling at his attemi profoundness.S 'I hope you will remember- that a good wh said his mother, "forwh at I would do witi you I am at present unable to say." So the conversation went on until Sandford R and Annie drove up.. "I!t's -rather late, mothL said Arinie,-" but I knewaiu would all be sit 1:b sit FIFT ould t his fling give yby lace ould ther Why, two She joys cult done but aver )n, I lay, her. me vith pted ile,'l out oss er, ting Y YEARS AdO. here, talking over th day, and I told Sa dford that I must come." "She promised she would stay. on half. an hour," said Sandford. "I find I can trust her to any limit, except when she comes 'home.;' and then, time seems to have no meaning." "I understand that pretty well," said Deacon Winthrop. "Ahnie' mother still" wants 'to go home for a few minutes,' and I have learned by this time that these minutes mean hours. But good homes make good wives; so take' it patiently, Sandford." The conversation ent to Grace and the wed- ding. - Charles gradually got "in tune," and felt soniewhat better before his sister left. Ernest had three or four days yet to" stay. He visited all of his old friends, climbed Eagle Mountain, and re. called the time when he used to think it one of the boundaries of the.world- He had some quiet talks with his mother, which strengthened and refreshed him. He listened t his grandfather and grand- mother's words of wisdom and thought. If he could ever stand at the river's brink waiting so peacefully, and trusting to be carried overt"h& should be blest, indeed. And then he went back to his life-work with a new benediction 'overhin The family at the old mansion missed its departed inmates, but its otrtward life went on as before. - ** *. * 31.! _ r i page: 312-313[View Page 312-313] CHAPTER XXIII CoNC L USION. IVE years have passed away ince tha Ji morning when we met at the weddi Doctor Allerton and Grace Winthrop. I bright, glowing sunset, in early' summer, a over the hills and vales of Beechford the sof is falling. Pause we where it lingers on the wall pretty cott ge.. Roses are burstin into bu blossom, an creeping vines go trailing ove rustic frame , while a few tall trees stand guardians 9f the place. Surely it i our old Aunt Lgis who is so busily engaged tyin heavily laden, double blush-rose l:ush whi wind has swept over. Her hair is white when we last met her, but her broad garde 'net, her clean checkered apron,, and her big "s look just as they used to when. she made' beds'' in the garden at the little brjwn hous by Deacon Winthrop's garden. Evidently Lois is at home and happy in another field low parlor-window is open, and from it p the merry soun s of baby voices. Invisible , PtY Nt * i 4 . v. 1 FIF breeze which just may venture to loo rocking-chair, is ou has lost some of i which tells of tende cernable about her eyes. Just now the on, which equally in the chair. Ernest, h years, has crowded perched upon the a r June which still cluster a ng of bursting out into a t is. a brother Winthrop, w nd all of ten glad months : light ing in his mother's ar in his own 'and her s of a thought strikes the d and arm of the chair an, r their on his mother's hea p like \ bigger than mamma friend and up goes the cr up a ma's arms, to catch 3h the hind her. Then we than tor Allerton, who, c n bon- ago, pauses at our bears" tiful group within, s alley- that all, the world is 'close that when his step or Aunt the undivided attenti The at the window, he att proceed in an instant forgets th as the Withhutstretched hap 4,j 4' ' YEARS AGO. 313 oves the snowy curtain, vwe in. There, sitting in a low old friend Grace. Her face 1s rosy tintings. Something care and loving effort is dis.. sweet mouth 'and thoughtful re seems to be a game going erests the three occupants of er noble boy of two and a half his way into the chair, and, m, is laying with the curls bout h r face, now and then bold bo-peep with his. baby ho, with all the vigor and glee f healthy existence, is sprin ms, the very prince of babies, estimation. Suddehly a new boy Ernest; cliinbing on the putting his little fat hands he exclairhs, proudly, "I'se J'se bigger than amma" 'wing baby, tossed in mamr the little adventurer be- must make room for J-oc- )ming home a few mments window to note the beau- absorbed with each other shut out, and yet he knw.s voice is heard he can-claim )n of the three. Steppingin acts'Ernest's attention, wh Le pomp of his position, az, d s, goes right over his rnothi page: 314-315[View Page 314-315] ~3I47 FIFTY YEARS AGO. A' er's head iito his father's arms. Baby Win is quickly diverted too, and by a series of vi jumps makes known his wishes, and gets high enough to convince him that his father' are greatly ty be desired for expeditions in air.. " What noisy little fellows !" said the tired, father, returning the baby to its other's and throwing himself into the big, easy chair, was always waiting for him. Emnest's frol not yet ove r. With persevering skill he el upon his father's boot, and was rewarded by ing ride, which ended in an apparent break of the paternal foot. Doctor Allerton had seen much rofession in these five years, but, with fir health steadfast purpose, he had gone rig t on, a 'tering to the sick and- suffering with a -ch spirit, which was in itself a healing medicine Allerton had been to him all she had pr when. he took her from her father's house ability to meet the emergencies o her ho had 'provei itself invaluable. Sh had f great 'rest in good old Aunt Lois. Aunt1 died about a year after Grace's marriage, an ly, sad Auit Lois turned to Grace, as her g earthly comfort. At first she would go a w1ith her days, always going. hom' at nigh aftert a while, she was persuaded to stay aw a time, an4, finally, when Doctor A lerton b new house , and made a room in it express her, she"g adually took possession fit, mo her household goods into it. The little throp orous tossed s arms to the happy arms, which c was imbed a toss- down al toil pnd a minis- ieerful Mrs. )mised Her. sehold Fund a Nannie d lone- reatest d stay t-; but, reek at uilt his sly for ing all brown house was -rent4, and from that time Aunt Lois' made" alley-beds'in the new garden, apd ;looked after things" just as she used to at Mi-s. Winthrop'. She was very fond of the children, and greatly lieved their mother -in the care-of them. But we have wandered fi'om the parlor..window and the scene it opened. Mrs. Allerton transferred her laughing baby, to its father's arms, and wen't out 'to see that tea was soon ready, for she well knew that howev fond hir husband might- be of her's and the children's welcome, his long rides gav$ him a keen appetite, and included a quickly-coming tea in the welcome. Coming back shortly, she leaned over his chair to watch the frolic of her. boys. "Come, come, little fellows," said the doctor, "this will never do. I am too tired and hungyto be a good subject for such young kings long atonce. Tossing Winthrop into the air, he landed him'i his mother's arms; then opened the doorforEr' nest, who quickly found his way out to where Aunt Lois was still tying up rose-bushes. That night Mrs.' Allertonhushed her aby to sleep, as usual, and laid him softly down for;a quiet rest. Towards morning, she was awakened by his heavy breathing and great apparent stress Quickly rousing er husband, 'she fo1loii ed 'his' prompt directions, pintil at length the baby eered relieved, and fell asleep in her arms,:but shf coud not sleep -again; so she watched 'him until the morning broke. For a time he rallied and eemd like himself, making faint-attempts to play wit his brother but before evening he drooped agaan, nd thus it went on, for twodys "rs.With J _, - 1.. _ : .'y _. i 'i j. .l " +'{a''Y I.'. e 1lt I' !"JO JZ v 'IFTY,. ,YEARS, AGO 31'5 page: 316-317[View Page 316-317] FIFTY YEARS- AGO. t came, and Arnie came. Doctor Alle every symptom, and used all possib To all but Grace it was evident that t nad come to the shore of the "shining must cross the stream. She was calm but the pleading expression of her turned to her husband, believing that irt would yet restore her child, touch yond expression and made him feel h ngness. When at last its little eyelid the -soft, fluttering breath was for ev~ :lasped the baby to her heart with on sob of unutterable anguish, then lai ilwn, and resting her weary head on h reast,.she wept without restraint. T irst .meeting. with death; its strange, ower had in a moment placed th( seemed a pare of her own beyond her etween it an her there had come a ' :o be broken.until she should put on This treasure, which she had called L not her own, after all. When the fire passed, she took the baby in her arms arrayed it for its last repose. Nothing duce her to trust the sacred task to NIrs. Winthrop and Annie looked o aid aided when they. could, but they tempt to change her purpose. There, rob d in white, the little slee weary with life-toil, not a single lin written on hi, brow; his dimpled arm Looking like uxest marble; his- swe( mnd perfect,-.revealing its divine work ton watched e remedies. he little one river," and nd efficient, eyes, as she his healing hed him be- is own noth- closed, and er still, she e passionate d it gently, er husband's his was her mysterious life which knowledge;' ilence never immortality. er own, was t shock had and tenderly ig would in- other hands. n pityingly, made no at- per lay;- not e of sorrow s and hands et. face calm nanship. 'a' , FIFTY YEARS AGO. 317 few dewy rosebuds were drooping on his snowy pillow, and scattered in the folds of his dre s. Very quickly the day came when this beautify 1 image must be hidden from her sight-hidden until the trump of the archangel should bid it cone forth free from the bondage of sin. Taking Ernest's hand in hers, the.smitten mother went o nce more to look upon her baby's face. The w ndering child had sought in vain to solve the strange mys- tery of the household, the baby's long, quiet sleep, his mother's sad, tearful face, and his father's grave manner !-he could not comprehend it. Doctor Allerton paused when he came to find his wife, where he knew she had gone. In the same parlor where, so few days ago, we saav him enter-and sur- prise the laughing group, he found her sitting with Ernest on her lap, while her bowed head and fast- coming'sobs told of the grief within. The boy's childish words were awed into a whisper and he went into his father's arms with a subdued glad- ness, greatly in contrast to his usu al mann r. "God has taken his own, mydarling." said Doc- tor Allerton, Ttenderly drawing his wife towards him. "I know it now, my husband," was her quiet reply, and, with one fervent:kiss on her baby's brow, she went away and left im. Many sympa- thizing friends came and listened with her to the tender prayer offered by her kind, fatherly pastor, and to the precious, wonderful words . e read from God's own exhaustless book. When the short, simple services were closed, she flowed the little one to its resting place on the hill-side, ^i" page: 318-319[View Page 318-319] f. 1 .c f C 1 i ( c t 1 Y I 1 1 FIFTY YEARS AGO. nd' came bac to find her winsome, car n earth neve more. The mystery of life grows.deeper as long its lines. We feel more and m finite ignorance and weakness, and ore the infinite wisdom and strength creator. We believe that, however much, ou fled, there are no failures in God's p not our business to explain His way 41y to trust Him entirely, believing le and willing to take care of every ast universe. So, when a spark of n ers only long enough to kindle a gl a mother's heart, end then goes out, 11 complete.' With our God "one housand yea s;" his accomplished pu measured by our ideas of time. Wh nate the influence of that little life in n 's heart? As the day and weeks wore on, t acredly tender for utterance lingered acant place until they woke a. new heart, even a song of praise to "Hi given, and who had taken away." Nei doctorr Allerton had ever made a p heir faith in Christ, but now the decisi ome, and th no longer withheld the rom his nam . With renewed purpo he mother gkve her first-born 'to the eemed no longer hers only, he was a t r her to restore again in due season, press she had given him. * FIFTY YEARS AGO. essing baby. we advance re our own more and of our great plans have arposes. If s ;. we have that He is vent in His immortality owing flame its design is day is as a rpose is not o shall esti- Mrs. Aller- honghts round song in m who The years rolled on, and, other children were given to her keeping. Her husband's professionaI duties led him much abroad, out into the toil 'and' weariness of life, but she kept the altar-fire of his home burning brightly, :and reared his children in the nurture and admonition of the Lord. It was a strong, distinctive element of her educa- tional training, that her .children were cre ted to do God's will, not "as of necessity," but as glad, willing servants, esteeming it. greater honor than any earthly thing. With ever buoyant. spirts, and tender sympathies, she combined the discreet, guiding mother with the loved companion and friend. Nor were her efforts confined to ler own household. It was said of her,' "Such a woman as Mrs. Allerton is one of Heaven's blessings to the community in which she dwells." She found un- told strength in the firm, reliant power of her hus- band. Even on earth she learned whiy she was kept from the flowery paths of ease, wher , rest-, ing idly, she would never have finished er ap- pointed work. Journeying with her, we would not los sight of the friends she loved so well. Mrs. Colonel Winthrop gradually decline unl, two years after Laura's .marriage, she died. Mr. and Mrs. Marshall remained with their father. Colonel Winthrop paid yearly visits to Bee:hford. Sometimes Laura accompanied him, bringing her children, and enjoying'with them the hospitalities of Grace's busy, happy home. As Colonl Win- throp grew older, these visits were the crown of his year. His interest in Grace descended to her too the her had their she nor :ofession of re hour had r allegiance se of heart, Lord. He reasure lent bearing the 319Ls, page: 320-321[View Page 320-321] FF A FIFTY YEARS AGO. C w v a m F o ti a n c ti I chiIdren, and she taught them to regal rg as a season of rejoicing. Ernest Winthrop was abundantly-p business, and the Lord kept him in emptations. He was a man of influence 9eking "to do good as he had opport carried Mary Marshall, Henry's young 1 us cementing the bond already exist itself and hjs uncle's family. Annie filled well her place, carryi mother's plans in her busy household, good to those about her. Charles forgave Doctor Allerton, ound in his sister Grace a strong, confi e alternated between farming and tee last settled down near tie old honie 1, honorable man. Henry attained his highest purpose i medical career; while Arthur, w bristian armor, took up his father here he laid it down. Mary proved herself worthy of t Mich had centered round' the days of d childhood, adorning the circle in' oved with her lovely Christian grace Once more we glide over the year nest Allerton a student of law in the c ld friend, Henry Marshall. We paus o se mysterious providences which d then in the lives of some of us. ich importance was pending. Mr. M electing all t e evidence possible to his side of t e contest. Some impor rd his com- rospered in ts manifold e in society, unity." . He gest sister ; ng between ig out her and doing tnd always ding friend. aching, and tead, a use-' h a success- earing the s life-work e. affection her infancy which she * * * }, and find office of our at one of come now A case of marshall was dd weight ant papers were missing. " Allerton," said he, "you must go to Mr. Welford's .at once ; tell him the papers he told me of are not here, and I must have them at once. Hefmust send them by you." Allerton was prompt to do the bidding. Arrived at Mr. Welford's elegant mansion, he was shown into the library, where that .gentleman was sitting, conversing with a middle-aged gentleman who seemed to be an invalid. Ernest hesitated, 2on:see; ing a stranger, and remarked to ljr. Welfod that he had a message from Mr. Marshall. ".I understand it," said he, "and so does this gentleman. He is a friend of Mr. Marshall and myself, and I have just been telling him the whole story of the case." The message was delivered in such a manner that it was plain the bearer understood why he came. "I shall have to detain you a few moments,' said Mr. Welford, "though. I think I know exactly where to find the papers.". He left the room; with- out thinking to introduce the young rhan to the elder one. So they sat awhile in silence, Ernest turning over the leaves of a book which he took up from the table. The elder gentleman rose and walked slowly back and forth, keeping his eyes, Ernest. thought, very keenly fixed on him. At length he stopped directly in front of him. ".Par- don me,,young man," said he, :"may I ask you what your mother's name was, before her marf riage?" "Grace Winthrop," said Ernest, looking pleased to repeatit. "Was she a cousin of Mrs. Henry Marshall.?" 14*~ I - :1 I FIFTY YEARS AGO. 20 3 20 page: 322-323[View Page 322-323] 22 FIFTY YEARS AGO. "Yes, sir." " I thought so. You resemble her 'at I was struck with your face whe ntered the room. Give me your hand. Lenox, and your mother was a muc imnd of mine, long years ago. Tell m e and how and why you are here." gust then Mr. Welford came in with t' apers. He was astonished to find M interested in their young student. "Why, I krew the young man's m )rd, when she, was younger than he would not be afraid to trust him any ill not detain you. Can you com is evening? Here is my address," giv card. Ernest pronrised, with pleasure, to c dy who was his mother's friend, an ck at the office, with his errand Coming so suddenly upon. our old enox, we must know that he had ever ; Grace Winthrop a sincere friends based before he married, and then his ade 'him happy and content. Two :le daughters had for a time given life s household; ut they both died.in;early the pensive mother drooped, and vwed them to the grave. With wealth and, the lonely 'nan left his busiriesn broad, resolving t7 spend his days m ed wonders of the Old World. He e h sing sight of :he changes in society at eling little interes;inthem. Expobure o n 1 e strongly, you first My name esteemed all about ie required Lenox so )ther, Wel- is now! I here. But to see me ring Ernest all on any- I was soon completed. friend, Mr. entertained ip. Years gentle wife charming and joy to childhood, n time fol- at his com.. and went .d the sto-- e lingered, home, and to sudden FIFTY YEARS AGO. 323 cold, on one of . his mountain expeditions, had brought on .an inflammatory disease, and made him so much.of an invalid that his thought turned 1ack to his native land. The sea voyage and the Id scenes had dOne him good. He had been in oston about a month, when, in his morning call on his old friend, Mr. Welford, he met a face which called back the years and brought-very' freshly be- fore him the bright young girl whose memory always stirred his better nature. Here was her son, and a desire to know him better took full pos- session of his heart. Evening brought his guest, ready to answer all his inquiries. He was more than pleased with him, and a plan came into his head which he found little difficulty in carrying out. With the full approval of his father and mother, Ernest became like a son to Mr. Lenox. The latter never again enjoyed firm health ; but, through the unconscious instrumentality of Grace Winthrop's son, he found peace in believing in the Lord Jesus Christ; so that his last days were his best days. Is not "the secret of the Lord with therm that fear him ?" and is not "His covenant with them ?" Is ot the "seed of the righteous m igty upon the ear h ?" and do not "his seed inherit the earth ?' I-lath not Godsaid, "Riches and honor are with me; yea, durable riches and righteousness. My fruit is better than gold, yea, than fine gold; and my revenue, th n choice silver ?" THE END. p i1 I ti a b b L I p ii hc al ri Ik fe 'j: page: 324-325 (Advertisement) [View Page 324-325 (Advertisement) ] TORY FOP OUP9LDER: P' L " It may be safel commended as deeply nteresting."--Boston Re- corder. Miss ROBERTS' FORTUNE. A STORY FOR GIRLS. "A book for older girls. Its influence upon the reader is excellent. The plot is simple, the elaboration of the story very fine, showing the gov- erning purpose of th3 author. The vicissitudesof life are made to pay tribute to a sound Christian morality, and to aid in building up a true womanly character. Itis a healthy book, and as such we commend it. '- Providence Press. " A story of genuine strength and merit. The heroine is an orphan and an heiress, but with tendencies which tend to makeher lifea lonely' andunhappy one. Her resolution to overcome these, and the growth of her character in all natural and- healthy directions, is beautifully de- lineated. Besides Miss 1 oherts, there are other hearty, joyous, quaint, good people, And a, quiet little love story ruining through the whole does not detract from its interest."-Te Adv a ce. "There is the, odor of true Christian sweetness about the leading character, Helen, that will find admirers, while the story ,l. it, course shows the gradual development of her character into that of a sweet, unselfish woman ."-Hearth and Home. ANSON D. F. gANDOLPH & COMPANY 770 BROADWAy NEW'YOi. One vol. 12wo, 880,pages; neatly bound in cloth, $I,50. Sent b post-paid, on remitting price. IL MI I page: 326 (Advertisement) -327 (Advertisement) [View Page 326 (Advertisement) -327 (Advertisement) ] fSTOlY FOR OUR 9LDER IRLS. P"' "A fresh and spirited story, well calculated to interest and please."-- Evening Journal. FA BR I c s. A STORY OF TO-DAY. '"The story is written with a great deal'of grace and refinement, and is intended to be a 'Society' novel, holding up the selfishness and world. liness of the merely fashionable, in contrast with Christian simplicity and self-denial.."-Christian Witness. "A well-written story, and the evident aim of the author is to do good to every reader. It is a very interesting narrative, and the pleasures and misfortunes and unlucky days of the young lady .who figures prin- cipally, are described in a manner true to life. It does one good to read such a book, it serves to impress one in a solemn yet pleasant manner of the great aim and end of life, and in ulcates those excellent moral pre- cepts which all would do well to imitate."-Transcript., "A story of every-day life, which will be liked for the simple natural- ness of the incidents and the goodlesson it conveys."- . J. Journal. ANSON D. F. RANDOLPH & COMPANY, o77 BROADWAY, NEW YORK. Qe vol. 12mo, 880 pages, neatly bound in cloth, sent by mail, free of expense, on receipt of price, $1.50.. I k,, ,A sTO1 Y FOF(OUR LDER GIRLS. "We commend it to our girl-readers as a book calculated to exert an influence wholly gentle and good."- Washington Chronicle. ANNIE MASON; OB, THE TEMPLE OF SHELLS. "This story possesses much more than ordinary interest and power. It gives a beautiful illustration of the benefits to be derived from Chris- tian patience, charity, courage, and faith. Had it been written by an author better kno n to fame, and had it been brought into notice by elaborate and conspicuous advertisement, this volume would have con- manded as many readers as have been secured by books of much greater pretension and less m erit."-Commercial Advertiser. "The story is well told, forcibly written, and will be found an attract- lye book for every-day reading."-Express. "The way of salvation is made plain, and counsel and advice judi- ciously intermingled with enlivening incident." Advocate and Guardian. ANSON F. RANDOLPH & COMPANY, 7o BROADWAY, NEW YORK. One vol. 12mo, 420 pages, neatlybound in cloth, sent by mail, free of expense, on receipt f price, $1.50. 4 I. --------T4A cx, A I* page: 328 (Advertisement) -329 (Advertisement) [View Page 328 (Advertisement) -329 (Advertisement) ] STORY FO U U LDER j11LS. "A book excellent In purpose, wise in teaching, and pleasant in style."-orning Star. SI!IGNA]JLGHS "A capital story-of domestic life, with more than usual freshness in the material surroundings, and told in.excellent style."..-S. S. Times. "None could read carefully this tenderly told story without-being the better for it. It is: written with a more than ordinary degree of refine-. ment, and has that subdued ton , to use the artist's expression, which recommends it to the cultured pecqple who have learned to regard sensa- tion and flash as nearly allied to vulgarity. The religious teaching is very pure and lovely ; the domestic pictures have a rare naturalness and delicacy of finish, and the sweet Letters scattered through its pages bear all the marks of real ones, so simple and unstrained are they."---So. Churckman. e ANSON B. F. RANDOLPH & COMPANY, 770 BROADWAY, NEW YORK. )ne vol.jl2mo. 888 pages, neatly bound in cloth, sent by mail, free of ense, on receipt of price, $1.25. f I Sent by mal , free of expense, on receipt of price. -- ~ .m sm a I l r "Two OF THE SWEE EST AND MOST IMPRESSIVE LITTLE TALES.," Six LiTTLE PRINCESSES. iBythe author of" Stepping Heavenward," and "The Story Lizzie Told." 16mo. Cloth. - 75 ages. Illustrated. 75 cents; Paper, 50 cents. " It is, like everything from this author's pen, delightful; and, like all her books, contains lesson-one, too, which all can apply and prac tice."-The Star (Ne London). " To cultivate the alents we have with pleasure -and contentment, and without envy ofthe gifts of others, is a lesson few are too old to learn. It is set forth with much beauty and simplicity in this brief story."-Association nthly. THE STORY LIZZIE TOLD. By the author of ",Ste pping Heavenward." 16mo. Cloth. 48 pages. Illustr ted. 50 cents ; Paper 35 cents. "In exquisitely simple language, the little heroine tells the history of her own short life, pe fectly unconscious the while of its sublime self- abnegation, and its wonderful love and patience. It is difficult to give this book all the prais it deserves."- qhristian Union. " As you turn over t e tinted leaves of this little volume, there will be a tremor in your voice and a mist in your eyes. Yet it is not much of a story, after all-only-a fe'w word-pictures of the life of a child, told in the language which a hild of poverty and sorrow might use. Just as naturally as the early violets blend a lesson of humility in their uncon scions sweetness, this tory breathes a spirit of content, and happy re- signation, with a Iongg for divine love and sympathy."-Courier- .Journal. ANSON D. F. RANDOLPH & COMPANY, 770 Bo wvNEW YORK. r f page: 330 (Advertisement) -331 (Advertisement) [View Page 330 (Advertisement) -331 (Advertisement) ] wAn ABBOTT. Square 16mo. Cloth. ed. 75 cents; Paper, 35 cents. "It is a motherly tribute of affection, awakened afresh-by the little drawer filled with 'the drapery left behind by the baby angel."-Provf- dcnce Press. "We find it a ,story whict will reach the hearts of many wio have given children back to God."- Church Weekly. " This is a tender, touch ng little tale, which many a sorrowing mother, who weeps over 'the baby's things' that are worn no more, w ill find comfort in reading It teaches a beautiful lesson of )ove and charity."-Troy Tir es. A VERY SIMPLE STORY. Being a Chronicle of th Thoughts and Feelings of a Child. By FLORENCE MoNTGoM R , author of "Misunderstood." Square 16mo. 88 pages. Clot . Illustrated. 75 cts; Paper 50 cts. " A touching little story, intended to teach by comparison with a tender mother-love, the lesso of sweet, unquestioning obedience to the Heavenly Father's will, even when we cannot understand it* and when it involves sre trials and dis ppointments."-S. S. Times. "Its very simplicity and iathos is" the touch of nature which claims kinship with every true and t nder heart."-Christian Union. ANSON D. F. RANDOLPH'& COMPANY, 770 BROADWAY, NEw YORK. y mail, free ofexpense, on receipt of price. 1. I "It is well writtepartisticallymbuilt. and quite above the average in incident and plot."-.velmng Journal. THEn JnC1 C L AGK IT T S lebrOOk Hall. By Mrs.1 POSSER. "A pleasant story. fEnglisb countr life, with.agood variety of cbar- acters, -and a lively succession of incidents. It is in a neat and conven- ient form, and has lareaelear print.-The Tiin*, N. Y. " To lovers of fctio i which isenterttininghoaltrni, and improving to the taste and hear t atikwe.commendthisolboo t is a capital ,story, amusing enough. gobiinressing, iniituir , way, most salutary lessons."--7Ae cohgtgqtigalhst 1 " A story of domestilieneiiariably well told, at, the characters in it being life-like and. rdlybrecogizeble in society everywhee."-New Jeey Journal. "The author has pu agood dealof 'human nature into all her char- acters, gentle and simp l e3a annd ilcl'' "A sprightly householdtal, imbued witr religious sentiment."- Was-ingtot -Cronice. ANSON D. F. RANDOLPH & COMPANY, 770 Bro dwaiy,f(cor. 9th Ste N e York. Sent b~y mail free of expense on receipt of price. One vol. sq. 16mo; 300 pages, cloth, 75 ctA.: paper, 60 cts. t wO TENDER, TOUCHING LITTLE TALES." T H E BAY'S THINGS. A Story in Verse. By E1 58 pages. Illustra [MOO w i ,s ' i,. ' . , ,} i~ 1 ' y , r , I I 1 i l 1 I} + i r t ' 1 3. ; I . s " F page: 332 (Advertisement) -333 (Advertisement) [View Page 332 (Advertisement) -333 (Advertisement) ] VIt r rijt;; f;'; air s'jf , : ' , . ' i J " + r David Llkyd's Last BY wE AUTHOR of "JESSCA'S FIRST PRAYER," LONDON," ' AX KROMNER," ETC., ETC " This is more of a novel than any preceding work from The plot is more elaborate, th characters more filly develop of them, and the whole bodk t larger and fuller concepti good captains break down when intrusted with the .c thousand men, so some very good story tellers prove ver writers. But our authoress justifies her right to be ace the successful novelists of the day. Her book is not less cally Christian than its predecessors. In her delineatio character and experience she ; as a field nearly to herself it well.. It is a capital story."--Harper's Aonthly. " This cannot fail to prove a pleasant and coibfortabk classes of readers."-Detroit Tribune. " A story of extreme pathos and beauty, never once idea natural superlatives."-Tke £ ristian Union. tWill. "ALONE IN the same pen. ped, and more d n. As some mmand of a y poor novel mounted among characteristi- of Christian , and occupies book for all %lized into n ANTSON Dl. E. RANDoLPr^ & COMPA. Y, 770 Broadway, (cor. 9th St.) New York. Sent by mal free of expense on receipt of price. One vol. square 16mo, 46S pages. Cloth, $1.00; papery 75 ets. "A good book by a good uthor, whose writings alwa s have point and force, and their style is a'tractive."-The Presbyterlat. I P is 4 of f b Y t }}7 7a n,1 Y- - ry :L e= h. f C i h- { e r. s' . i t .y F t 1 "WE HAVE IN THs VOLUME ANQ HER VALUABLE CONTRIBUTION TO o LIGHT RELIGIOUS LITElsA- TUUE."-College Courant. FOUNDATIONS; OR, CASTLES, IN THE AIR. By RosE PORTER, author of "'Summer Drift-Wood for the Winter Fire." Miss Porter's first book revealed purity of thought, and adelicacyof sentiment, combined with a facility of expression, which at once recommended it to the favor of the best portion of the reading public. The present story is simple and touching; and yet it is but a framework, upon which to hang beautiful thoughts and the fragrant blossomings of a pious soul.'"-N. Y. Observer. " The tale is simple, natural and interesting, the characters are well drawn and wellsustained. The style is pure and flowing .while it is full of life and ex- pression. The sentiments are the overflow of a refined and deep Christian experience.'! -.Bardford (ourant. "It is a story that has power, not as whirlwind;or a thunder-bolt, but as a quiet -surn ner ,ay, whose very stillness is its power." -arper aqazue. ANSON D. P. RANDOLPH &00., 770 Broadway, cor 9th Ste .New York. Will be sent by mall:free, of expense oireeipt of the price. 12mo. CLOTH, 194;AGS,.. ..$1.0 .br Sale by the Booksellers. 1 t f i Y fi 4 I. _. . rte,. page: 334 (Advertisement) -335 (Advertisement) [View Page 334 (Advertisement) -335 (Advertisement) ] - I - " READ IT 'AND UNDERSTAND THE BETTER."-. Teacher. LITTLE One volume 12mo, 300 pp., neatly bound in Sent by the Publishers by mail, free expense, on receipt of the price. ONEs cloth. of MISUNDERSTOOD. By FLORENCE MONTGOMERt. "It is one of the most beautiful Stories about Chili have ever read-natural and simple. We cannot to commend the volume to those who can appreciate a t story of child-life with its manifolI small interests joys and trials. *e most sincerely wish that every p the land could read it."- Ifacon Weekly. "As a pen picture of boy character, we think scarcely be surpassed."-Church Recprd. "Somebody's own impulsive, excitable, blunderil boy, his heart never given the credit for its true asp' or its warm and tender love ; nor his head for its seeking for light and knowledge. If any one has am household treasures such a child, this book will set hi ing, and its lessons will touch his heart strangely. of truth, pathos and beauty."-Presbyterian. "If one can read it without tears and profitable refi it will make a different impression upon him than itl us."-Chistian Union. " We coinmend this book heartily to all parents. and understand-the little ones better."-Nat. S. S. Te lren we ohighy ouc ung hopes, 3rson in t could ig little rations, earnest ong his n think- [t is full ections, as upon Read it 2c1er. ANSON D. . RANDOLPH & CO., 770 Broadway, cor. 9th St., New York. For Sate by the Booksellers. PRICE, $1.25. !t® "IT MAY BE READ WITH SAFETY BY ALL, AND WITH PROFIT BY MANY."--Congregationalist. One volume 12mo, 175 pages, neatly bound in cloth. Sent by mail by the Publish rs, on receipt of the price. .I "A tale of girlish experience during a summer of travel, and the writer has delicately woven through the whole a story of love gradually developed. Miss -Porter has a deep appre- ciation of all that is beautiful in nature and lovely in charac- ter,- and while there is no sickly sentimentality, nothing strained or overwrought in her book, its purity and sweetness of thought, naturalness of expression and beauty of style, will win for it the attention and interest of many readers. No purer, sweeter, better volume in its way."-N. Y.times. "We can commend it as a most pleasant and profitable companion for leisure hours."-Register. " It is healthful in tone, pure in sentiment, and full of gen- uine Christian feeling"-V. 7. Observer. ANSON D. F. RANDOLPH & CO., 770 Broadway, cor, 9th St., New York. For Sale by the Booksellers. PRICE,,$.oo. HI '- a 1 r { IJ r we :it: I i " , -" S ummer Driftwood FOR THE WINTER FIRE. BY ROSE PORTER. s e it s page: 336 (Advertisement) -337[View Page 336 (Advertisement) -337] "A DELIGHTFUL VOLUME."-Our Afontly. W H.IT E AS SNOW. ByEDWARD GARRETT, author of " Occupations of a Retired Life" " Crust and Cake," and RuTi GARRETT. "A Collection of Stories (six in number), exceed- ingly well told, with nice insight into human nature, and ervaded by a sound religious spirit, manifesting itself in such ways as good sense dictates."-Examiner and Chronicle. " It is a good little volume, unpretending, spark- ling in style, readable and healthful in tone, im- ing at good ends aid reaching them."-Jour al. "One, now and then, comes upon little' upre- tentious sentences, which have a value of heir own, and a true ring of genuineness about them, which is seldom met with in current fictio ."- W itnese. ANSON I. P. RANDOLPH & CO., 770 Broadway, oor. 9th St., New York, - I-=-u"- It~ Sent by mail prepaid, on receipt of price. PRICE, $i.oo. l-
