The aegis & intelligencer. [volume] (Bel Air, Md.) 1864-1923, 1877-05-18
MisceIIane Ou q.
The First and the Last of Her.

They were all enjoying the breeze that
swept through the wide parlors that sum-
mer evening, it had been so hot of late.
The month was July, the place was Phila-
delphia, and-I am almost afraid to say
this-it was the Centennial time. But
don't be alarmed, my reader, am not GO
ing to describe the Great Exposition, nor
tell anything about it, nor shall give any
information concerning '7G of either this
or the last century. l only intend to relate
an incident that happened to take place
then and there.
The people enjoying the breeze were
family by the name of Fenton, and con-
sisted of father and mother, two grown
up daughters, one grown up son and lit
tie girl.
Mrs. Fenton had just been saying that
she supposed they would be overrun with
visitors coming to spend few days and
see the Centennial.
"Well, let them come !" said Mr. Fen
ton, heartily, as he turned his paper inside
out. 81 don't know one that wouldn't
be glad to see."
"Nor l." said Mrs. Fenton. 81 am al
ways so thankful that we needn't be
ashamed of any of our relations. There's
sister Kate Who could be more delight
full than she is ?"
ooh Aunt Kate is perfectly splendid ~
chorused the young people.
"And there's Uncle Phil and Aunt
Emily" said Mabel, the eldest girl.
"And Cousin Joe and his wife," added
Florence, the second daughter.
"And John and his family" put in Mr..
Fenton.
ooh! if you 60 to counting up, you'll
never get through" said Tom, the son and
heir. But say haven't we any objec-
tionable connections at all Isn't there
some old duffer who'll turn up just at the
wrong moment2 2"
"No, l haven't any," said Mr.. Fenton.
"No-o o." said Mrs. Fenton, rubbing
her forehead thoughtfully. "Stop l think
l remember one. OF course Cousin Jeru-
sha ! / wonder l didn't think before.
But don't know that she is Objectionable
the fact is, I don't know anything about
her. She lived way up in Vermont all
her life. She is niece of grandfathers,
and is an old maid, at least she ought to
be- if she isn't married or dead. Her name
is Hevington-Jerusha Hevington. | al
ways thought it such pity to spoil such
fine name as Heyington with Jerusha.
| L
be perfectly awful !"
The two young ladies had been looking
at their mother in blank silence ever since
she had mentioned this unpleasant rea-
ton; Tom had gone off into fit of laugh
ter; so that Mr.. Fenton was the only one
who spoke:
"Well, if she comes, all we can do is TO
make the best of it, and treat her rs well
as we know how"
"Oh, of course" said Mrs. Fenton.
Tom here took look at his watch, and
started up, exclaiming that he should be
late, he had an appointment, and bolted
off, promising to be home early. Then Mr.
Fenton settled down for a nap; Mrs.
Fenton buried herself in Lorna Doone and
the girls yawned over their japanese can.
vass, fearing a dull evening.
The air gently fluttered the lace curtains
the mellow light shone down. from the
many -globed chandelier upon the fresh
white mating, the linen-draped furniture
the pictures and statues, and three ladies
in their pretty evening dresses, and the ole
gentleman snoring away behind his news
paper; all was as quiet as quiet could be
when u violent peal at the door bell made
them nearly all jump out of their skins.
"Who on earth is that9" asked Mr.
Fenton, bouncing up.
Mrs. Fenton dropped her book and gav'
a scared look into the hall.
81 suppose it's Mr.. Vanderpool," sale
, Mabel.
, "Oh, no, he never rings like that" sale
Florence.
Their old eolored waiter had opened tn
door 10y this time, and loud voice wa
heard inquiring, Does Mr.. Fenton-Ml
Samuel Fenton-liye here2"
eyes ma'am, he does" old james an
o swered respectfully.
, "Wall, then, / guess I'll walk right in
l seen the folks through the winder," ant