Litchfield enquirer., 1875-07-15

mindful of him Shall the clay sa1 unto the potter, why hast thou made me thus? Be still, and know that I am God. ali t turned quickly, and the saloon lamps shining out showed me the form of q man ,wrspped in, q cloak; but his head was hidden by the shadow and only saw dimly that the face was, raised toward the sky. He did not appear to notice me, but stood silently little while longer. and then walked away. I could not tell wheth- CT the quotation was accidental or design ed; yet because 1t was so unexpected, or because of that peculiar and musical voice, the words affected me as nothing had since I was child, lowing my soul with gush of penitential feeling, which, when it passed, left me less wretched than before.
 My reyerie thus broken became sensi- ble of the lateness of the hour. and with drew to my state-room Soon afternoon Ing dawned, the boat arrived at Ter des- | tined port. ard taking a carriage, Ireaeh- ed the depot in time to find a cOfnf0ztable seat in the cars, and soon was whirlsd on- ward toward the place sought.
 The letter had directed me to leave the cars at certain way-station. where, if I informed them of my coming, carriage would wait to take me two miles across the country to their dwelling As had not given this information, I did not ex- peet to find anyone waiting for me, but I had not considered that in such place there might be no conveyance obtainable for myself and my baggage; and when the train swept onward, leaving me standing on an open platform, with my box of clothes for my sole companion, | looked around with an expression of hopeless as- tonishment which would doubtless have been very ludicrous to anyone beholding l it.. HoEever,F Yankee girl. when thrown upon her o wn resources, is seldom long in finding a:.xay out of difficulty. The pres ervatien, of my properly was the ,first ob- iect to be obtained. and I pulled the trunks to the ground. and hid them snug ly under the steps at one end of the plat form. This done, I bent my steps toward dwelling visible at some distance down the road, which at this point crossed the track.
 It proved to be a small farm house; its appearance indicated poverty, as did also the patched though cleanly garments of the woman who came to klls door in an- swer to my rapplng. I asked to be direct- ed to MT. Jameson's house. She told me It was more than two miles by the road, but not so far across the fields, aud as seemed to be a stranger, if liked she would let her Jenny go and show me the way. Moved to confidence by her good nature. .I changed from my first design, and mentioned the situation of my lug gage. As it might not be convenient to send for it that evening, asked her to allow stout boy who was digging pota- toes in a field near to go and bring if to her house. She instantly called 'sAndrew JacksOn;" and when the owner of that H. lustrious name approached with his wheel barrow, and had received directions from me, I entered the house to await his re- turn. My hostess was loquacious. and when had frankly satisfied her curiosity concerning myself, was ready to tel me about her family affairs. He (meaaing her husband) had gone down the bay fish, ing. for their farm was dreadful poor. and if 'twant for selling thesf fish to the mill folks at the village. they lxoald nigh about staTve.s Her eldest da1ghtar lzad gone to stay with cousin till she got round; she didn't expect she ever would get round- expected she was In decline-but Nancy had gone to stay with her till she got round, nus her up. She'd been expecting to hear from Nancy for some time She heard there was letter to the post office, but she couldn't send for it till he came home; she wished she could; she wanted to get that letter-wanted to see what was inside of 1t
 "An odd reason for wanting letter. g quoth l; and by few leading questions l turned the current of this stream to a subject more interesting to me. She knew Mir. Jameson's family we'll. and gave me information quite valuable to me in my entire ignorance of those among whom I was to dwell. When the boy returned, and the remuneration I offered had been re- luctantly accepted, Jenny was told to put away her knitting. The little black-eyed maiden, brown and 1.-the as any gipsy, donned her. limp sun-bonnet and ran along beside me across the field, casting such sly, bright glances. at me that could not forbear cOnversing with her. For lack of other question. d asked if she went to school No, not yet, it vas too far, but she went to Sunday-school. Did she like it? No; sometimes she got book with pictures, and then she liked it, but she had rather play. Did she play Sun- day-this little heather m orthodox New England? Yes; but the minister said it was wicked. What minister, and where did he preach? Ir. Blakesley; he preach ed in the school-house every month, and then marm made her go. Marm said she liked to hear MT. Blakesly preach because he always hurt her feelings. He came to the Sunday-school sometimes, and talked to them. What did he say? He told them to be good, and say their prayers every night. Did she say her prayers? Yes. L. when she grew up she didn't mean to. for it wasn't pretty prayer. She liked .sNow lay me" great deal better, for if you didn't want to say it, you could sing it.
 With prattle like this she beguiled the way. until we came to the brow of low grassy hill, from whence the house was visible not far distant. From there pre- ferred to go on alone, and sent Jenny back to her own home Near the foot of the hill a cluster of trees grouped around a spring that gushed from under fiat rock. Here sat down to think. Since my great sorrow fell up- on me had been self-absorbed, shut out by my own will and the care of pitying friends from contact with any out of my own circle; from any jar or iostle of the world. This was kind, but | could not live so. Now that the hope which lit my
 
 life was dead, that life must die too.
 must disengage myself from ii. must leave it behind me, dead and bur1ed- Some tune hence I might perhaps bear to visit it's grave and weep there, but now must shape out for myself 3 new destiny. could not endure my anguish, could not be reconciled to it-there was nothing Jeff for me but to plunge into the world and forget 1t. As sat on the stone. looking at the gray house standing lonely amidst the 3onsay fields, the unrest which had prompted my desire of change returned upon ma iri full force. and | wondered nj the impulse which led me to accept 50 readily . situation that promised no va riety and so little excitement. z F.ss fi,s | The scene before me was simply beauti. fn1. and I knew not then what life was hid. den in the stiffness what aspects it could take amidst other conditions of the sky land sea, The house stood in an open re. cess, too shallow to be called cove. and yet removed from the monotony of the straight shore. Above the beach the shore | io.cco roarv ax.I x1. n !