Orleans independent standard. [volume] (Irasburgh, Vt.) 1856-1871, 1857-11-20
SALLY PARsONs's DUTY.


toes, looks down on no greener fields in
these days than it saw in the spring of
1775, fenced in and fenced off by the
zigzas snake-fences of Ezekiel Parsons's /
farm.
About this time" as almanacs say,
young orchards were misty with buds,
red naples on the highway shone in the
clear light, and row of bright tin pans
at the shed door of the farmhouse testif-
ed to a sturdy arm and skilful hand with
in,-arm and hand both belonging to no
less a person than Miss Sally, Ezekiel
Parsons's only daughter, and the pretti-
est girl in Westbury; short, sturdy, ro-
sy little maid, with hair like ripe chest
nut shell, bright blue eyes full of mischief.
and such a sunny, healthy, cOmmonsense'
character, one is almost afraid to tell of
il. It's so out of date now.
But of what use is it to describe her?
How can l impress upon moderns how
eri7ening and refreshing was her aspect,
Eshe spun, or secured pans, in linsey
roolsey petticoat and white short gown,
wearing her pretty curls in crop ?
George Tucker knew it all without tell
ing; and so did half dozen of the
Westbury boys, who haunted the picket
fence round 'ZekiePs garden every moon
light night in summer, or scraPed their
feet by the half hour together On his
doorstep in winter evenings. Sally was
belle, she knew it and liked it, as ev-
cry honest girl does and she would
have been a belle without the aid of her
fathers wide farm and pine-tree shillings;
for she was fresh and lovely, with spice
of coq1etry, but a true woman's heart
beneath i; all.
twas hard to discover whom Sally
Parsons favored among her numerous
beaux. Her father seriously inclined tc
George Tucker; not because he was rich
for Ezekiel had not arrived at fashiena-
5Ie principles, but because he was hon.
est, kind-hearted, and reliable; but a:
yet Sally showed no decided preference
time and the hour were near, but not in
sight.
One Sunday night, early in April, af
ger the nine o'clock bell had scattered
Sally's admirers far and wide, and olC
'Zekiel sat by the chimney corner, watch
5ag his sister, Aunt Poll, rake up th
rest CT the hickory log in the ashes, whil
he rubbed away sturdiIy at his feet, hold
ing in one hand the blue yarn stockings
wrought by no hand, as you may guess,
but that of Sally the talk, that had mo
mentariIy died away, began again, an
with a glance at Long Snapps,-a Ianb
shrewd-faced old sailor, who, to use hi
own speech, hal cast anchor 'longsiI
Of anold sAip-met fur a spell, beiu
bound fur his own cabin up in Lenox,
Ezekiel spoke after this wise:-
Il expect, Long, you sailors hev
dreful hard, onsartin time naYigatin
don't YEP"
We'll, skipper! that are depen's O
folks. I don't calk'late to hev no sort
hard time, eff I don't get riled with i
but these times doc rile easy"
What onsettles ye, Snapps?"
well, there's squalI to wind'ar
skipper; ta'n't no cat's-paw neither; GOO
no-no-east eff it's a flaw. And you Ian
lubbers are a-goin' to leeward, some
ye."
You don't say ! what be you hin
in at?"
Well, there's a reel blow down
Bostin, Zekle; there's no more getti
out O harbor with our old sloop; she
oen an gone, an got some 'tarnal lay
yer's job spliced to her bows, an sht
laid up to dry; but that's pesky SIN,
part o judgment. Bostin's full O. the
Britishers, sech as scomfshkated the S
san Jane, cos our skipper don suthin'
hedn't Oughter, or didn't do suthin'
he'd oughter and 1 tell ye,D the end
things is nigh about comm on here
Sally, in the chimny corner, hea
Long Snaps with open eyes, and hitc
ing her wooden chair nearer, inquired s
emily
What do you mean Mister Snapp:
IS the end of the world comm here
Bless your pooty little fgger-hei
Sally !! l don't know as It's, but suth
nigh about as bad is a-comin. Th,
Brtishers is sot out for to hev US unC
matches, or else walk the plank a
Iheyre darned mistook, eff they thi
men IS a-goih' to be steered blind, a
can't blow up the cap'en no rate. The
ant no man in Ameriky bet what's