Litchfield enquirer., 1857-04-16
The Mistake.
BY VIRGINIA P. TOWNSEND.

BY VIRGINIA F. TOWNSEND I I'll never do it it-never so long live 7
 And the boy clenched his hands together and strode up and down the room, his fine fea lures flushed, and his forehead darkened with anger and shame.
 "I'd ask the minister's pardon, in fathers Ipresence, of course I would, but to go before the whole Academy, boys and girls, and dc this will make me look like coward. But father never retracts and he said l must do this or leave the school, and go out on farm to work, and the whole village will know the reason, and l shall be ashamed to leok any body in the face. Tve a good will to run away. It would be very hard to leave all the old places, and then never see Nellie again. It would break her heart, I know it wonld I mustn't think of it now though it is only ten miles to the seaport, and could walk that and get place on some ship about to sail, be- fore father was any wiser. Some time I'd come back of course, but not un, I was old enough to be my own master"
 The boy sat down and buried his face iu his hands
 Ellsworth Grant was at this time, just fifteen he was motherless and his fathers only child.
 The deacon was stern, severe man while Ellsworth inherited his mothers warm temper ament. His father was man of unswerving integri- | ty and rectitude.--a man wll. would have part ed with his right hand sooner, than have com. mitted dishonest act.
 He was hard exacting parent, and Els worth was a fun-loving, mischief.brewing boy, whom everybody loved, despite his faults and the scrapes he was always getting his neck ill- to.
 There is no doubt that Deacon Grant loved his son, but he was not demorstrative man, and then it was sad, sad story that may be written of many a parent, that he didn't ull- derstand his child," and there was no mother with her soft voice, and soothing words to come ferween them.
 l Ell>worth's last offence can be told in few words. The grapevine, which, heavy with purple clusters hung ever the kitchen windows Of the school-tcacher's residence, had been rob bed of more than half it's fruit, one Saturday afternoon, when the inmates were absent ! The perpetrators of tn s deed, were, how ever discovered to bea party of the schoolboys among whom Was Ellsworth | The rest of the scholars had privately soli- cited and obtained the school teachers pardon, but the Deacon was so shocked in this evidence of his sons want of principle, that he insisted {! that he should make public confession of his | fault before the assembled school
 In vain Ellsworth explained aud entreated. His father was nvulperabe, and the boys naughty spirit mutined *
 Ellsworth, Ellsworth, where are you go- ingy"
 There came down the garden walk an eager quivering voice, that made the boy start aud turn quickly around, as he stood at the garden gate while the light of the rising day was flushing in the east A moment later, small light figure, crowned with golden hair, and a large shawl thrown over its night dress, stood by the boys side
 "Why Nellie, how could you? You'll take cold in your bare feet, among these dews P
 Il can't help it, Ellsworth" It was tear swollen face that looked up wistmlIy to the boy.
 1 You see, 1 haven't slept any hardly, all right, thinking about you, and SD 1 was up, l looking out the window, and Saw you going down the walk"
 "Well, Nellie" pushing back the yellow, tangled hair, and looking at her fondly, you see can't do what father says must, to day and so l am going of"
 "Oh, Ellsworth What will uncle say ?'' cried the child betwixt her shivering and weep ing, what will uncle say How oug shall you be gone 7"
 q don't know," said he evasively. "I shan't be back to-day, though. But you must not stand here talking any longer. Fatherl be up soon, you know. Now, good by, Nellie ;
 There was sob in his throat, as he leaned forward and kissed the sweet face, that had only seen a dozen summers, and then he was gone. ..... -.
 "Go and call Ellsworth to breakfast, will you, Ellen ?' said the deacon, two hours later
 He isn't up stairs, uncle" And then, as they two sat down to thcil breakfast Ellen briefly related what had trans pircd.
 The deacon's face grew dark as she pro ceeded.
 "He thinks to elude the confession ant frighten me, by running off for day or two, he saia; @ he will find he is mistaken" So that day and the next passed, and th' deacon said nothing more, but Ellen, who wa his adopted child and the orphan daughter 0 his wife's most intimate friend, noticed that ht began to look restless and to start anxiousl, at the sound of footfall but still EIlswortl 9 came not.
 At last strict search was instituted, and i : was discovered that Ellsworth had gone t. :, sea, ln ship bound for some mort of the wes 9 tern coast of Africa, on a tlz Tears voyage hope he will come back better bo, l: than he left" was the deacon's solitary com 3 mentary, but in the long nights, Ellen used t, hear him walking restlessly up and down il his room, and his black hair began to be thickI, scattered with gray. --,---...- | But the worst was not yet come. One No f vember night, when the winds clamored an, stormed 6ercely, Deacon Grant and Ellen sa by the fire in the old kitchen, when the forme removed the wrapper from his weekly newspa