The national era. [volume] (Washington [D.C.]) 1847-1860, 1851-05-08
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| Who gives you your dinners and euppers and
gets you new shoes and dresses an
Sally felt these were not the presents she was
promised for the hard days labor she had spoken
of, but she said nothing further
All day she went about her work with heavy
heart but ct dinner her father said "Well,
Sally, have brought you that present to-day '
and great shadow fell from her heart, and a
vision Of the party bright and distinct before
her, but faded bitterly as he went on to say, alt
Is no foolish gewgaw, but nice sandstone, with
which you may scour the churn and pals this
afternoon, as bright as you please
Feeling her bosom tremble with storm of pas
sion, the young girl left the table, and seating
herself under q cherry-tree that grew by the
kitchen door, she began picking the clover bios
SONS which clustered thick about her feet. until
she had fifty for she had counted them over and
over again, for the want Of anything else TO do
While she was thus employed, her father, whose
scythe hung in the bough over her head, came
towards her, and seeing her clouded brow and
her idleness, rebuked her severely, and concluded
by saying
"Now, 90 out Of my sight, and don't let me see
your face till you can act bettern
| A little from the main road. and out Of view
! of the house, was beautiful grove Of elms, and
thither more from habit than motive for she often
went there, she bent her steps.
| Unconsciously she had taken with her the clo-
yer buds; and seating herself beneath low beech
overrun with wild grape-vines, she began braiding
her blossoms to a wreath. She was not beautiful,
farther than deep, dark eyes, wealth of nut
| brown curls, youth, and health, might make any
one beautiful. The wood was dreamy and still
| the heavy shadows stretched longer and longer
over the thick, green grass-as the day went down.
the spider wove his pale, slender network from
bough to bough, entangipg the golden sunlight
the birds quickened and deepened their songs, at
first few and drowsy, till the woods shook with
melody-the winds blew the ourls about her cheeks,
and played with the wreath in her lap, as they
would The time and place had had softening
and soothing effect, and, after locking her hands
tog1snor, an1 hummiSg SyST al the hySs,-SS $40
knew, leaning her head against the trunk of the
tree beneath which she sat, she had fallen asleep
Neither the winds nor the birds disturbed her;
but when at length a human voice, though very
low and gentle, addressed her, the dream was
broken, and the bushes beneath her dark locks
burnt crimson, when, looking up, she saw before
her the young village clergyman.
Gracefully, and something gaily for his sacred
profession he apoogized for the intrusion, saying
he was not aware that the fair forest was rre-
sided over by a still fairer divinity and that,
being on the way to meet for the first time the
little flock over which he had been called to pre-
side, he had been tempted by the exceeding beau
ty OF the grove to turn aside, and hold oommu-
MON with his own heart
"But do you not live hereabout, and shall not
meet you at our festival2" he continued.
The tears came to the eyes of the young girl,
in spite of all her efforts to keep them back, as,
pointing the hills to the old-fashioned man
| sion where she lived, she said
al wanted to 20, buto-sbe made no further
explanation; and, pulling her wreath Of clover to
mecca acattered IL On the Orouud
The flowers of the grass perish said the
young man, sorrowfully, "and our hopes young
damsel, are often like themn Then, in livelier
tone, he added, as though some sort Of hope
crossed his mind, "Do you come here often ?"
ooh, very often; but as | have never before
had any company here save winter and rough
weather, surprise has kept me from offering you
my messy seat, which beg you will now accept.n
She was rising, when the young man motioned
Of 1t, though fear am already waited forn
What they talked of | do not know, and cannot
imagine; but II must have been interesting, for,
to the great annoyance Of Mrs. White, who liked
to have the folks just so, the Deacon had drawn
lister were not coming and the disaffected old
ladies had whispered to each other, that the new
preacher was little too fashionable. The young
ladies got out Of patience, their hair got out of
curl aud general damper was thrown over the
spirits of ALL by the suggestion OF prim, fayor-
ably disposed maiden, that the clergyman had
gone to preach funeral sermon, for that old Mr.
Peters had been thrown from his horse the day
previous, and killed and she particularly empha-
sized the fact that he never once spoke after he
WAS carried into the house. The silence succeed
ing this dpropos intelligence was broken just hve
minutes before five, by the quick step on the
threshold and the smiling face of the clergyman
himself, who, in answer to the numerous inqui-
ries said he had not been to preach funeral
sermon, but that accidental circumstances, which
he did not explain, had detained him somewhat
However, the apology was satisfactory to all, and
things went on charmingy. The dinner did
honor to Mrs. White, and the guests did honor
to the dinner Some Of the old persons thought
him little too worldly minded for preacher,
but the young people all admired him and, on
the whole, the impression he made was more ia
vorable than he could have hoped
Supper had been over for an hour at Deacon
Whitfeld's, when Sally made her appearance,
presenting, to the surprise Of her parents, no
traces Of sorrow or disappointment, but seeming,
on the contrary, to be In an unusually happy and
cheerful mood
Sabbath after Sabbath went by, and though
Deacon Whitfield and his wife were regular in
their attendance at church, they never tsrried to
shake hands with the new preacher; not that his
talents and eloquence were not softening their
hearts, but they felt that profering Of civility
would be tacit acknowledgment that they had
been wrong aud they were not yet prepared to 30
humble their pride.
The young preacher, however, seemed nowise
offended by their GOODNESS, il, indeed, he noticed
it and, amongst his earliest pastoral visits, was
one to Deacon Whitfeld's upon which occasion
that gentleman creased his shoes put on his best
coat, and entertained his visiter In the parlor,
where Mrs Whitfield also made her appearance
shortly before tea, in clean cap and gown but
Sally was not permitted to 90 into the parlor, nor
even to come TO the tea-table. Though past SIX
teen, she was, in the estimation Of her parents,
| giddy little girl.
| Soon after supper the minister took leave say
| ing he hoped hereafter TO see all the Deacons
family at church.
But the next Sabbath the young lady was not
In her fathers pew, nor the next, nor the next,
and the whole summer went by without her being
| once there.
Early one September morning, the Deacon and
his wife went to town, taking with them In the
market wagon two live calves, two barrels Of
apples, and sack Of oats, TO feed the horses.
| SALLY expected 9 new dress and bonnet, with
out which she said she would not 70 TO church
till Doomsday. And the old ones she had worn
o good while, IL is true
After dinner, Jerry went to the village, to Dor
row book of the clergyman, 1t mattered not to
him what, whether poetry or science, romance or
history. Something within him he felt required
food and 80 he determined to borrowa book Soon
and cheerfully the household duties were per-
formed, and Sally, srrayed In her white muslin
dress and blue gingham apron, sat down TO sew,
while Jerry, who had very soon returned, read TO
her from his book, jerusalem and the Holy Land
not long. however, for they were interrupted BY
the coming Of the minister who had very kindly
hrought another book to Jerry, which, he said,
he had thought the young man would and Of
Greater interest than the one he previously Sc
Iscted. Jerry felt "a II be had sn everlasting
no from which TO draw; and retiring TO the