Litchfield enquirer., 1857-08-06
In Memory of Lillian.
CHAPTER I.

Glvc us large families, sald the IerSlanS. "Give us intellectual ones," said the Greeks. l was schooI-boy at Swansburn Cove, when first read this little paragraph. Swansburn Cove, with it's white town looking off upon the winding Shawmut, that over sedge-grown bars, and along forcst-cad banks, went wandering on, soon to mnge it's waters with the rapid Kenhawa.
 Near to its junction lay Happy Valley the residence of uncle Erwin. There had he gone with his young bride, when the place was half wilderness and year by year had he trench ed away the hills giving birth to slopng hills and green pastures.
 But what of Lillian? Well, Lillian was his oldest dearest child, and l schoo-boy of sixteen, when first 1 fell in love with her. Friends sometimes ask me if l ever fell in love, and with a smile answer them, No. But my heart upbraids me for the falsehood, and a shadow of Lillian crossed my vision. An Lillian, thou hast been sleeping these nineteen years, near to the vio'ets of spring time, and the snow-drtts of winter. Uncle Erwin's was large family. Death had never entered his door way. His anniversaries recalled no sor rows, but welcomed in the memory of births and fre-side festival When they crowned Lillian with wreath that told of nineteen summers, there was baby in the house, its mothers ninth child and it clapped its little hands and laughed as if it caught the genial nature of every one who was glad, on Lillial's birtt-day fe 'tvnl.
 From Swanbarn to Happy Valley, it was three miles along the river bank, and thther had walked that bright June morning, to make one of the merry party who banqnettcd in the wood, when Lillian was to be crowned with wreath of nineteen white rose-buds That hour is as fresh in my mind to-day, (tho' dark between it and me, have gathered the clouds of twenty winters, as it was fresh with roSe-buds and honeysuckles that morn, when my feet went crushing down the violets and forgct-me-nots, that were thick upon the banks all the way.
 l was boy of sixteen, and she far more mature than many household mother-udeed, girls are always in advance of boys in this re- spect, and Lillian to my mind was in advance of all girls, and l could not remember the time when her smile and frown did not tell of womans decision. She was not prim or old fashioned yet with modest grace, she dcci- ded her brothers quarrels, and stood umpire in all matters of childish disagreement But let me speak of Happy Valley. turned into the avenue that led to the old house, whose tall chmnics l could perceive pecring above tic frs that surrounded it. Basams and hen1- locks were uncle Erwlns favorite trees, and he had scattered them in cumps through the en- tire grounds, with the exception of the avenue, and here in alternate groups, archcd from side to side darkbouyhed naples and elms so thickly had their limbs twined aud interla- ced themselves, the sunlight, save here and there in patches, was entirely excluded, and about their roots the huge fungus and white ghost-aowers held the damp moisture of the woods: The path beneath them had been made by children's feet, and wound it's crooked course from side to side, as if the little ones had stopped here and there, as flower or butterfly attracted their attention. They had made it in passing to the school-house that stood embowered among chestnuts short dis tance from the entrance gate By them alone was it trodden, save on occasional summer days, when uncle Erwin drove by, tFat he might give the little ones a jaunt in the strange old vehicle in which he always rode and sometimes had seen him walking slowly be- side his horse, that he might hold fast to the legs Of his youngest boy, who had bestrode the animal that was still attached to the wag- on, and urged forward by the five girls who filled the seats. It was the avenue to school and church. Over it on Sabbath mornings. in little groups, passed the family. I see them still-the three domestics each leading child, Lillian and her oldest brother and then the boys just in advance of uncle Erwin and aunt Anna, who, arm in arm, followed slowly, over- looking them all hear the vibration of the bell that echoed through the forest, and see the occasional groupes of neighbors, all alike vending their way thither There, hand in hand, when the Sabbath sun was setting, would they also wander, the river just visible through the trees, the COWS coming out through the wood, the pet sheep that followed them, the barefoot boy with his long whip, the rude mis- shapen bars-but ah where have wandered, and how passing the Sabbath evening, which uncle Erwin loved, and loved to keep holy unto the end. The Shawmut made an island of Happy Valley, and to enter the grounds, we were obliged to cross rustic bridge, beyond