Litchfield enquirer., 1876-08-10
From Harper's Magazine.l
 Ashes Of Roses,

lying deserted in the dry grass; tligli
 pnffs of heated air. waiting in from time to time the faint perfume of the clove pinks, the ciematis, sweetppas, ahd tan sy, just rufiing the crumpled friils of tht heavy y-headed pnpies. and floating lazilJ down the last petals that still chung tt
 the briery climbing roses that wound tht
 pillars of the porch in close embrace They were the same flowers. or the descen
 dants of the same, that had blossomet
 here q hundred years ago; but then tlit
 garden was better kept, and the home
 stead, now nearly ruinous and gone to de
 cay. was accounted an aristocratic man
 sion a s2s5stE g t@ 55a. How I delighted it the old house
 had visited here frequently, and knew its
 every recess. from the spiDning- wheels
 stored ill the attic to the iIysteriOu!
 traces of an under ground passage lead.
 ing to the wine-cellar, of whose use wt
 had no tradition. had devoured all o
 the quaint old volumes, knew the history
 of every bit of china. or furniture, or cos
 tune, and fancied that, to me at least
 the house had no. more secrets to reveal
 But on this particular afternoon Aunt Alb
 bic, pitying my dnllness. gave me the key to my grandfather's desk, and began te
 explore the files of yellowed papers peep
 ing from its cedarn, pigeon-holes. They
 were mostly bills and notes. account
 books, packets of old letters, and various legal documents. Among these last ]
 found the will of my great-annt; ittseemed
 at first glance to be quaint piece of com
 position, and was already interested in
 the writer. My grandfa her. Obadias
 Pyncheon, had been 8 man of substance.
 and had heard his older sister, Serena, spoken of as one of the early belles of
 Boston. Her portrait, too, our only
 boast as an artistic heirloom, hung in the blue chamber, which I had appropriated to myself for the summer. It had been painted by Copley, but the face reminded me of a Greuze in the Louvre. so fair it was m tint and so poetic in sentiment. The golden blonde hair, the natural color showing through thin rime of powder, rose in light puffs above the low white forehead. The eyes were bronze brown, that striking appearance usually resulting eyes. Either the artist fattered her un- warrantabiy, or Terena Pyncheon was an uncommonly beautiful woman, and be. gan the reading of her will with eager ness. The first beqnest of landed estate was that of the old mansion to my grand father. From this point on found little that interested me until reaching the emu meration and disposal of her personal property, which seemed to me quite odd, and in some degree characteristic.
 ...As I shall die possessed of many good cloathes" (said this part of the wilD (which am certain can be of service nei- ther to my husband nor to my sons, and which an exceeding loath should be sold. do make the following disposition
 ..'To Ann PYncheon, wife of my beloved brother Obadias Pyncheon, I do leave my Crimson. Grogram Gown, with my long Cardinal and Bonnet, likewise my best Stays and my Gauge of all sorts.
 ..To my dear friend and faithful, since the beginning of my illness, Hannah Par fridge. do leave my striped pink and white lutestring Pettienat, also my sprig- ged red and white linen Gown, and my brown padnsay Gown, with my best book muslin apron. and all my fans.
 'sMy puce-colored satin Gown I do re- quest should be ripped up. and servicea- ble and handsome chair be covered there with for the pulpit of the meeting-house, to the end that the pastor of the church. being used to behold this Gown on each Lord's.day, miss not it's apparition on any occasion of Divine Service. ,,.-. Il do leave my sapphire shoe buck les to the wife of my eldest son, Louis Lafay- cite D'Etolle. .l..' 'sr-..
 ''To my. second son John Hancock D'Etolle's wife I do leave my ring with two hearts in it, and my Paris peach-col. ored velvet pelisse, requesting that it new CT be worn. ripped up, gwen away, or sold. ,z.s,-, ....IE-,f . -rssr..,.yFI ~'' ''To Patience Plympton I do bequeath my cloth riding petticoat and hood, know ing that she is to weakly to ride and to poor to possess a horse; and forbidding her ever to attempt so perilous an amuse- ment, for san horse is a vain thing for safety do also leave her my green padusay Sack and my gold buttons. f..... : s''To, Silas Wells's wife I leave my flow cred blue and white damask Petticoat and my yellow satin Petticoat. >vtl--
 gro Electa Leffingwell, my Patch Gown and my yBird-of. Paradise Gown. I do al- so leave to the said Electa my silver tea spoons. a.s. o.-rs arsssr..- - 7 a
 ''I do leave my chaise to my husband.
 g.'I do request that Hannah Partridge and Eiecta Lefingrell do divide my black satin, Coat. my black silk Gloves my crimson worsted Cloak. my black ala mode handkerchief, my green silk Calash and my long lawn aprons, with my hose and linen of all sorts, among ten worthy and needy women of their own choos- Ing. l...tg s..7 i-- es,,-ess..... D-2.- iati af...I, ,do)leayeto little Abigail Pyncheon, daughter of my brother Obadias PYn- cheon. my gold beads, together with my songs, iournals, letters, and writings of whatever sort, to the end, that, she having shown herself at this early age to be blest with lively wit. may set forth my me- moir to the edifying of the e.saints and the of the ungodly. For the fur ther furtherance of which work do like wise leave to the said Abigail my portrait, that it may be put into the hands of skitl- ful draughtsmen and grayers. and @ iron tispiece be made therefroin for this book. I do also bequeath) to my niece Abigail. the sum of ten pounds sterling. .i1
 s.(Signad and attested) ttt'---- -" 5 Why, Aunt .Abbiert said I. in surprise. q never heard of this before Did you ever write the history of the old lads?' :.
 Nc replied my a4Ht with shrug. sI did look over the great bundle Of wrlt- ingsl which she left me. but I found little either to edlfy or convert My aunt seems from them to have been very worldly woman in her younger days, and q very disagreeably Fpious one in old age. Eliza Montague was right when sLe said that women were either all vanity or vexation of. spirit. Serena Pyncheon was all vanity in her youth. and yexation of spirit the test of her life .,7 sssg -.
 Her portrait does not speak so poorly of her.DD I said. dopbtfplly,a sa.s 'se
 ; ditaRead what shess lefts yourself. said Amt Abbie. with, some ,asperity .s'ssuch a mess of filtration and romance, dress and stiffness! .Inever had the patience to wade thoroughly through it. And Aunt Abbie placed before me small trunk cov- cred. with cow-siin . and stndded with brass nails, containing large portfolio offine tapestry-work, filled with the pa Pers which were to me the story of Serena Pyncheon's life.G Aunt Abbie selected tile hrst paper, or. introduction to the rest and dbItfead;ies .asEa11 a9nd fsssaG11a