The Richmond palladium. [volume] (Richmond, Ind.) 1855-1875, 1862-07-18
,g she believed, Of youth and the memory

aS she believed. of youth and the memory
of love
During those years she had more than
once been sought in marriage. but had stead
lily, though kindly. refused. Once, when
the suitor was a man whose character and
position made the union very d.sirsble in
Eli Mitchenor's eyes, he ventured to use
his pateInal influence. Asenath's gentle re-
slstsnce was overborne by his arbitrary force
of will, and her protestations were of no
avail.
I Father" she finally said. in the tore he
had once heard and still remembered. ..thee
can take away, but thee cannot give"
Tie never mentioned the subject again.
Richard Hilton passed out of her knowl-
edge shortly after her meeting with him in
Philadelphia. She heard. indeed, that his
headlong career of dissipation was not ar
rested--that his friends had given him up as
hopelessiy ruined--and. finally, that he had
left the city. After that. all reports ceased.
He was either dead. or reclaimed and lead
ing better life. somewhere tar away.
Dead, she believed, almost hoped; for in
that case might he not now be enjoying the
inetfsble rest aud peace which she trusted
might be her portion? 1t was better to
think of him purified spirit. waiting to
meet her in a hol.er com munion, than to
know that he was still bearing the burden
of soiled and bghted life. In any case.
her own future was plain aud clear. 1t was
simply proongation Of the present,-an
alteration of seed-time and harvest. filed
with humble duties and cares, until the Mas
ter should bid her lay down her load aud
| follow Him.
| Friend Mitchenor bought small cottage
adjacent to his sons farm. in a community
which consisted mostly Of Friends, and not
far from the large old meeting house in
which the Quarterly Meetings were held
tie at once took his place on the upper seat.
among the elders, most of whom he knew
already. from having met them. year after
year, in Philadelphia. The charge of few
acres of ground gave him sufficient occu
patton the money left to him after the sale
of his farm was enough to support him COM
iortably; and a late Indian summer Of con
tentment seemed now 10 have come to the
old man. He was done with the earnest
business of life. Moses was gradually tax
ing his place, as father and Friend and Ase
nsth would be reasonably provided for at
his death. As his bodily energies decayed,
his imperious temper soitened, his mind be-
came more accessible TO liberal influences.
and he even cultivated a cordial friendship
with neighboring farmer who was one of
1.-The worlds people" Thus, at seventy
five, he was really younger. because tenderer
of heart and more considerate. than he had
been at sixty.
Asenath was now a woman Of thirty five,
and suitors had ceased to approach her.
Much of her beauty still remained, but her
face had become thin and wasted. and the
inevitable lines were beginning to form
around her eyes. Her dress was palmer
than ever. and she wore the scoop-bonnet
of drab silk. in which no woman can seem
beautiful. unless she be very old. She was
calm and grave in her demeanor, save that
her perfect goodness and benevolence shone
through and warmed her presence; but.
when earnestly interested, she had been
known to speak her mind SO clearly and for
chilly that it was generally surmised among
the Friends that she possessed "a gift"
which might, in time, raise her TO honor
among them. To the children of Moses
she was good genius. and a word from
Aunt 'Senath" oftentimes prevailed when
the authority of the parents was disregar-
ded. In them she found new source Of
happiness; and when her old home on the
Neshaminy had been removed a little farth
er into the past, 50 that she no longer look.
ed. with every mornings sun, for some IA
miliar feature Of its scenery, her submission
frightened into a cheerful content with life.
1t was summer. and Quarterly Meeting
Day had arrived. There had been rumoIs
of the expected presence of Friends from
4 distance" and not only of the district,
but most of the neighbors who were not
connected with the sect, attended. By the
by road through the woods, it was not more
than half mile from Friend Mtchenors
cottage to the meeting house. and Asenatb,
leaving her father TO be taken BY Moses in
his carriage. set out on foot. Ii was a spark
ling, breezy day, and the forest was full Of
life. Squirrels chased each other along the
branches Of the oaks, and the air was filled
with fragrant colors of hickory leaves, sweet
fern and spice wood. Picking up flower
here and there. Asenath walked onward.
rejoicing alike in shade and sunshine, CRATE
full for all the consoing beauty which the
earth offers TO a lonely heart. That serene
content which she had learned to call hap
piness had filled her being until the dark
canopy was lifted and the waters took back
their transparency under a cloudless sky.
Passing around the "women's side" Of the
meeting house, she mingled with her friends,
wto were exchanging information concern
| ing the expected visitors. Micajah Morrill,
| had not arrived. they said, but Ruth Baxter
had spen. the last night at Friend Ways;
and would certainly be there. Besides, there
were Friend Chandler. from Nine Partners.
and Friend Carter, from Maryland; they bad
been seen on the ground. Friend Carter
was said to have wonderful gift,-Mercy
Jackson had heard him once in Baltimore.
The Friend. there had been q little exercis-
ed about him, because they thought be was
too much inclined to "ths newness," but it
va. known that the Spirit had often mani
| testify led him. Friend Chandler had visit.
ed Yearly Meeting once, they believed. He
was an old man, and had been personal
| friend OF Elias Hicks.
A, the appointed hour they entered the
house. After the .ubdued rustling which
en.ucd upon taking their seats. there was
sn interval Of silence, shorter than usual,
because il ws: evident that msuy persons
would feel the prompiinas OF tho Spirit