Vermont watchman and State journal. [volume] (Montpelier, Vt.) 1836-1883, 1843-12-15
MISCELLANY,
from Blackwood's Magazine for November.]
THE BANKING HOUSE.
A HISTORY IN THREE PARTS.
PART |.
CHAPTER 1,-PRosPEcTIvE.

CHAPTER 1,-PROsPEcTIvE.
IT. as Wordsworth, that arch priest of poesy
expIesses it, | could place the gentle reader "a
ttpeen the doiony t0ings" oil some benehcent and
willing angel IN one brief instant Of time should
he he deposited on the liue hill that first discov-
ers the smiling. quiet village OF Ellendale lie
would imbiDe OF beauty more in breath, glance,
than can pour into his soul in pages of spiritess
delineation. cannot charm the eye with that
great stream of liquid light, which, during the
long and lingering summer S day, issues rom TIE
valley like an eternal joy cannot iascinae bis
eur, and soothe his spirit with natures deep mys-
erious SO delicately slender aud so soft that ST.
lence fails to be disturbed, but rather grows more
mellow and profound; | cannot with stroke I
present The teeming bills, flushed with their
weight OF corn, that now stand stately IN the sns-
pended air--uow, touched by the slightest wind
that ever blew, flows like golden river. AS dill
ficut is it 10 convey Just impression OF peace
ful SPOT whose praise consists, SO 10 speak --rath-
er III prvatiyes than postlves; whose prs llege
is 10 be still free, Tranquil and unmoiesled, IN
land and in an age OF ceaseess agitation, IN winch
the rigorous virtues of our fathers are forgotten,
and The lands integrity threatens 10 give way. III
Glendale be not The most populous and active
village il is certainly the most rustic and winning
that l ever behed in our once merry England.
1t is secreed from the world, and lies snugy
and closely at The foot of MASSIVE hills, which ma
ture seems 10 have erected solely for its covert and
the high road, whence you obtain at intervals
short glimpse5, as it rears its tiny head into the
open day. Ii the traveller be fresh from an over
worked and ovorworking city, he looks upon what
he deems a sheer Inposslby--the residence
men living cheerfulIy and happily in solitude in
tense. he employment OF the villagers is in The
silent fields from day 10 day, from year TO year.
Their life has no variety-ihe general heart has
no desire for change. 1t was with their fathers
so shall it he with their own children, if the too
selfish world will let them
The nhabitaDis are almost to a man poor. hum
ble and contenled. The cottages clean aud
neat, but lowy like the owners. One house, and
one alone, is distinguished from the lest. 1t is
led, and ivy as venerable as ITSELF cngs closer
there as years roll over it, 1t has lawn, an an
tIuue door aud porch, narrow windows with the
smallest diamond panes and has been called since
its first stone was laid, the Vicardge. Forget the
village, courteous reader, and cross with me the
bospitabe threshold, for here our history begins
--and ends
The season is summer-lhe time evening-the
hour that Of sunset. The big sun goes down like
ball of fire, crimson red leaving at the horizons
verge his splendid escort-a host of clouds glitter
ing with hundred hues, the gorgeous livery OF
him they have attended. borrowed glory steals
from them into an open easement, and, passing
over illumes for Il time, face pale even to sad .
ness Ii is woman's. She is dressed in deep
est mourning aud is-iIeaveH be with her IN her
solitariness Il recent widow. She is thirty years
of age at least, and is still adorned with half the
beauty of her youth, not injured by the hand Of
suffering and time. The expression OF the coun
teDance 10 one of calmness or, it may be resigna-
ton, for the tranquility has evidently been taught
and learnt as the worlds lesson, and is not naive
there. Near her sits man benign of aspect
advanced in years; his hair aud eyebrows white
from the winters fall; his eye and mien telling
of decline, easy and placid the close of soitest
music and nothing harsher. Care and trouble he
has never known-he is too old 10 learn them
now, His dress is very plain. The room In
which he sits is devoid of ornainen and furnish
ed like the study of a simple scholar. Bucks take
I'D the wallis A table and TWO chairs are the a.
mount of furniture. The Vicar has letter IN
his hand which he peruses with attention and
having finished he turns with bright smile to-
wards his guest, aud tells her she is welcome.
"You are very welcome, madam, for yeur own
sake and for the sake of him whose signature is
here although, fear you will scarcely find a
mongsl us that happiness you look for. There will
be time, however, to consider" -
81 hare considered, sir,' answered the lady
somewhat mourntully. "Nly resolution has not
been formed in haste, believe me-"
The vicar paused and reperused the letter.
"You are probably awure, madam that my
brother has communicated
every thing Your people are poor and ig-
norant ] can be useful to tlIem Reduced as
am, | may afford them help. may instruct the
childien-aueHd lie sick-relleVe the hungry.
Can de ihIs?"
"Pardon me lady. | am loath to repress the
noble impulses 10y which you are acluated.
would be very wrong 10 deny the value and i'm
portance OF such aid but must entreat you &c
remember your former life aud habits. l fear this
place is not what you expect it. la the midst o
my people aud Withdrawn from ali society," have
accustomed myself 10 seek TOR consolation in the
faithful discharge of my duties, and in communion
with the chosen friends OF my youth whom yol
see around me. You are not aware of what you
undertake. There will be no companionship 10
you-no female friend--no friend but my selG-
4 Our villagers are laborng men and women-ou
Apulalion consists of such alone. Think wha
have been and what you must res gu"
Ae lady sighed deeply anu answered.
\, Mr. Lllllelon just because cannot forge
/ have been, that | come here 10 max
nds for past neglect and sinfuness. have
- there, sir,"--and she pointed solemnly 10
words the sky" which must he paid. ! hay
been an unailhu steward and must be reconcil
ed 10 my master ere die You must trust mt
You know my income and my means. 1t is tr
fling, comparatively speaking, nothing. Yet, les
than hall OF it must suffice for my support. tn
rest is for your flock. You shall distribute it, an
Won shall teach me how to minister to their TEN
poral necessities; how to labor for thelr elernr
glory. The world aud have parted and fol-
ever"
al will not oppose you farther, madam. Yo
shall make the trial, II you please, and yet" II
vicar hesltated.
k"Pray speak, SIR" said the lady.
Z" was thinking of your accommodation. Hei
could not we'll receive you, and know no oIht
house becoming
"Do not mock me, Mr.. Littlelon. A room
the cot al your poorest parshioner is more than
deserve--rnore Than the good fishermen OF Galilt
could sometimes find. Think OF me, beg, US
am; not as have BEEN"
apartment with The supper tray, which The goo
vicar had ordered shortly after the arrival of h
guest. During the repast it was arranged that III
lady should pass the night in the cottage OF job
Humphreys, a man acknowledged to be the mo-
industrious in The village, and who had becon
the especial layorite OF The vicar, by marrying,
the latter ioc oselv termed IT, into his family. Job