The Cecil Whig. [volume] (Elkton, Md.) 1841-current, 1861-04-06
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THE FAMILY AT PENTHOUSE.

was 10 De \ SoVerncSs out coUlu not
obtain a situation. My poor mother had
been insane for many years before her death =;
one of my brothers was deaf and dumb,
another was delormed, while none Of us
showed either health or vgor. In a word,
there was no escaping the fact that we had
the seeds Of some terrible disease sown thickly
among US, and that, as a family. we were
unhealthy and unsafe. ! was the eldest and
the strongest, both in mind and body, but
that was not saying much. | was always
what am now, tall and gaunt, with the
spasmodic affection which you see in my face,
as nervous as am now, and nearly as thin !:
shortsighted, which made my manners doubly
awkward. and they would have always been
awkward from my nervousness and ungalnly
figure and with an unnatural acute hearing,
often followed by attacks of Inconsistencies
which sometimes lasted many hours. and
rendered me, for the time, dead to all out
ward life.
Unpromising as our family condition was
when my father died and lett us destitute, ii
was absolutely necessary that those Of us at
allcapable should get something to do and that
tie rest should be cared for by cheuty The
last we found more easy to be accomplished
than the first. Many kind hands were stretch
ed forward to help the helpless of is, but
few to strengthen the weak. However, after
time, they were all settled in some way or
other, and were at least secured from slarva-
ton, while I, who had been considered the
most hopeful, was still unprovldcd for, look
ing vainly for a situation either as govcrn.Ss
or companion. Both were equally difficult
to procure. On the one side my manners
and appearance were against me, on the other,
my family history. As could net deny my
inheritance Of disease and insanity, mothers.
naturally enough, would not trust me with
their children, and was not sufficiently at
tractiyc for companion. People who can
afford companions want something plant.
bright. animated, pleasant. No one would
look al my unlovcly face, or hear the harsh
tones of my voice L know how harsh they
aie-and pay me to be all ornament or plea
sure to their lives. So as tell you was
refused by every one, until began to despair
Of success. ana without blaming any, to UNI
derstand that the world was too hard for me,
and that | had TO portion in it.
As my last venture. answered an adycr.
tseInent in the Times for companion to
lady in delicate health, living in the country.
My letter was replied to in bold, manly
hand, and meeting arranged. was to 90
down that next day by train to place about
twenty miles from London, aud find my way
from certain railway station named, two
miles across the country conveyance not to
bc had q village called Penthouse green. -
A mile farther would bring me to Penthouse
itself, :" the seat OF Mr.. and Mrs Brand ~
The note was cnuchcd in curious, sharp,
pelcmptory style, and pompously worded =
/ remember, too, that ii was written on a
broad sheet of coarse letter paper. and sea led
with what looked at first sight to be large
coat of arms, but which. when examined
proved to be only make. believe. With my
habit Of making up histories out of every
incident that came before me decided that
the writer was q military man, wealthy and
high born and that, about TO leave on a
foreign service. he wished to place his young
and beautiful wife in careful hands so as to
ensure Der pleasant compancnship during
his absence. | made quite a romance out Of
that persmptory letter with lis broad margin
and imposing seal.
" They will never take me when they have
Seen me ~ sighed, as | settled myself in
the thirdclass carriage which shared with
Three soldiers wives and n couple of Irish
laborers. and | wished that could have chang.
I'd my fate and person with the meancst
among them. Though they were poor they
were not under curse, as / was though
IMAM had not upliflcd them, fortune had
not crushed them as she had crushed me-
was weeping bitterly behind my veil, over
powered with my own sadness and despair,
and almost decided on not going farther to
meet only with fresh disappointment, when
the train stopped at my station. and | let
myself drift down the tide of circumstance
and once more dared my chance.
Asking my way to Fenlpusc green, mach
to the astonishment, apparently of the solitary
station. master, struck into rugged by
road which he said would take me there
The two miles walk seemed as if it would
never end The road was lonely and the
country desolate, ugly and monotonous !;
nothing but broad, rugged waste without
tree or an autumn flower TO break the drear-
mess o! the scene. did not meet a living
creature until came to an unwholesome.
looking collection of cottages, covered with
foul eruptlons Of fungi and midew starting
out like leprosy upon the walls Where
the village green should haye been was
swamp, mated with conftrua. 1t was
place to remember in ones dreams, from the
neglect and desolation, the hopeless poverty
and feycrsh squalor of all about.
II this was the village of which the writer
had spoken so pompously as his property,
and Of which I had imagined all that was
charming and picturesque, it did mt argue
much for what had to come; and began to
tc.l that had painted too brightly, and, per-