Orleans independent standard. [volume] (Irasburgh, Vt.) 1856-1871, 1857-10-16
RAsBURGH, VERMONT FRIDAY, OCTOBER is. 1857

' fEhMON1 Th1DA1s "
and opinions, which no one mistrusted.
however, that she possessed.
Mary Grant often remarked that the
little Elinor was her mothers own child.
She had the same slight figure but be-
yond these was difference rather TO be
felt than explained. About her mouth
WIS a graver, more saint-like smile. A
tenderer light shone in her blue eyes.
and her voice did not ring out with quite
such joyous music as made Margaret's
tones in her early years such a CHEEKY
sound to hear. ElinoFs were lower,
quieter-she spoke more slowly, as il,
even ia childbon5. .-tn address others, she.
had TO come out of an inner world where
she ofenest dwelt-the word of thought
and of dreams. Gentle, quht child as
she was, her name, her stately name,
borne once by the proudest belle il Nor
wich, seemed not unsuited to tie simple
dignity of her nature.
Sunday after Sunday she satby Moses
Grants side in the old-fashiond Presby-
terian chuch, bowing her graceful head
through the long prayers, lifting up her
clear voice to join in the vell-known
hymns. Sunday after Sundsy-frst as
child, then as maiden, and the old pastor
watched her lovingly-lovinsly for her
own sake-lovingly for the sake of a
grave under the willow-tree and all
the while, Sunday after Sund.y, his own
hair grew whittier and his step more
feeble.
CHAPTER II.
Parson Blake was dead. His life, his
kindly life, seventy summers and no
winter, was ended. In the little church
yard on the hilltop they laid him gently
and reverently to his long sletp-the lit
tie church-yard where he had faltered
the last prayer over so many Of his flock.
where, sixteen years before, he had
stood tearfully beside the bier of Mar
garet Grant.
Wife and children he had none. He
had lived alone all his blamelsss life, and
his people had been to him instead Of
kindred. Like his chiliren they all
mourned for him. Not heart beat ii
MayfeId to which he was not dear-not
one eye but was dim with tears at the pas
tors burial. He had married the ole
folk, he had baptized their children, be
had buried their dead, and now he wa.
gone to receive the reward Of his labors
More than forty years had he been il
and out before them, and broken breat
| in their midst. Was it strange that hi
death left a great void, which never
hereafter, could be filled?
! 1t was with saddened mien the elder
met together to consult on the choice 0
his successor. No one could ever be t,
them in his stead, and perhaps it couI,
hardly be expected of human nature tha
they should award due credit to the hon
est endeavors of a younger man. The
were kind-hearted folk naturally, bu
the new pastor must stand in a plac
which none but the dead could fill worth
ily to their minds; and, moreover, b
was a young man, just fresh from hi
studies, not more than twenty-five.
/ On the first morning after his installa
ton, Elder Moses Grant called Elinor t
his side, and charged her to De ready
/ season for church-the young ma
wouldn't be Parson Blake, to be surc
but they must show his preaching du
respect.
Elinor had grown, at sixteen, into
tall, graceful girl, promoted to a seat
the village choir now, ard remarkable
all eyes but the accustomed ones of he
grandparents for her rare beauty.
There had never been much outwar
demonstration of tenderness from Nose
Grant to this girl, the child Of sham
the seal of disgrace, as he sometime
called her in his accusing thoughts; an
i. yet, almost unknown to himself, he di
r love her tenderly. Much Of the 10y
: which had been Margarefs had con
5 out of her grave and folded itself roun
? her child, though in all her life the gi
could never remember that he had kisse
her or lifted her upon bis knee.
: One night his wife, alarmed for FL
l nor's health during the prevalence Of a
! epidemic in the quiet town, had Gale
I him to look upon her while she slept.
2 was wonderful the resemblance whic
she bore in her sIumbers to her dea
= T IL -To-- 1e L. r.