Litchfield enquirer., 1879-07-24

can't thee keep those boys quiet ?''
 "Did thee ever know them to be quiet ?" sad Dorothy, helping Jimmy to relieve him. self of his corn.
 "Well, now, listen '" Rachel continued plac- idly, "'Second day, 27th (of fifth month, he means, the letters been long time coming) attended their mid-week meeting at London Grove, where my tongue as it were clave to the roof of my mouth, while Hannah Husbands was much favored, and enabled to lift up her voice like the song of an angel"
 "Whos Hannah Husbands ?"cried Dorothy.
 s"Thee don't know her, dear. She was sec- ond cousin to thy fathers step-mother {; the families were not congenial, believe; but she has great gift for the ministry"
 II should think she'd better be at home with her children,-if she has any. Fancy Mee, mother, going about to strange meetings, and lifting up thy voice."
 "Hush! hush! Dorothy! Thy tongugs running away with thee. Consider the ex- ample thee's setting the boys"
 '"The'd better write to father about Doro- thy, mother Perhaps Hannah Husbands would like to know what she thinks about her preachin' ]"
 "Well now, be quiet, all of you Here's something about Dorothy: I know that my dear daughter Dorothy is faithful and loving, albeit somewhat quick of speech, and restive under obligation. would have thee remind her that an unwillingness to accept help from others argues a want of Christian meekness. Entreat her, from me, not to conceal ner needs from our neighbors, if so be she find her work oppressive. We know them to be of kindly intention, though not of our way of thinking in all particulars. Let her receive help from them, not as individuals, but as instruments of the Lords protection, which it were impiety and ingratitude to deny'"
 "There l" cried Shep. ''That means thee's to let Luke Jordan finish the sheep-washing. Thee'd better have done it in the first place. We wauldnt have the old eve to pick if thee had !"
 Dorothy was dimpling at the idea of Luke Jordan in the character of an instrument of Heavenly protection. She had not regarded him in that light, it must be confessed, and had rejected hlm with scorn.
 "He may, if he wants too," she said 'but you boys shall drive them over. I'll have nothing to do with it.
 And shear them too, Dorothy? He asked to shear them long ago."
 Well, let hlm shear them, and keep the wool too"
 'I wouldn't say that, Dorothy !" said Rach- el Barton. ''We need the wool, and it seems as if over payment might not be quite honest either"
 ''Ou ulOIucT, LuOLHcT WudL ulOIueT thee is ]" cried Dorothy laughing, and rump- ling her cap-strings in tumultuous embrace
 She's great deal too good for uee, Doro- thy Barton"
 'She's too good for all of us How did thee ever come to have such graceless set of children, mother?'
 'I'm very we'll satisfied" said Rachel. ''But now do be quiet, and let's finish the letter. We must get to bed sometime tonight" l"
 The wild clematis was in blossom now-the fences were white with it, and the rusty ce- dars were crowned with virgin wreaths, but the weeds were thick in the garden and in the potato patch. Dorothy, stretching her cramp- ed back, looked longingly up the shadowy vis- ta of the farm lane which had nothing to do but ramble off into the remotest green fields where the daisies faces were as white and clear as in early June.
 One hot August night she came home late from the store. The stars were thick in the sky; the katy aids made the night oppressive with their rasping questionings, and hoarse revel of frogs kept the ponds from falling asleep in the shadow of the hills. '1s thee very tired tonight, Dorothy ?" her mother asked as she took her seat on the low step of the porch. "Would thee mind turning old John out thyself?'
 ''No, mother Pm not tired. But why-oh, Iknow!" cried Dorothy, with quick laugh ''The dance-at Slocum's barn. 1 Uought those boys were uncommonly helpful" "Yes dear, it's but natural they should want to sec it. Hark wecan hear the music from here."
 They listened and the breeze brought across the fields the sound of fiddles and the rythmic tramp of feet, softened by the distance. Doro- thy's young pulses leaped.
 "Mother, is it any harm for them just to see it? They have so little fun except what they get out of teasing and shirking."
 My dear, thy father would never counte- nance such scene of frivolity or permit one of his children to look upon it."
 Through our eyes and ears the world takes possession of our hearts.
 'Then I'm to spare the boys this tempta- tion, mother? Thee will trust me to pass the barn ?"
 'I would trust my boys, if they were thy age, Dorothy. But their resolution is tender, like their years"
 It might be questioned whether the frame of mind in which the boys went to bed that night under their mothers eye,-for Rachel could be firm in a case of conscience, was more improving than the frivolity of Slocum's barn.
 'sMother," called Dorothy, looking in at the kitchen window, where Rachel was stopping over the embers in the fireplace, to light bedroom candle, '1 want to speak to thee."
 Rachel came to the window screening the candles with her hand
 "Will thee trust me to look at the dancers little while? It is so very near"
 "Why, Dorothy, does thee ao01at to?"
 "Yes, mother, l believe I do. I've never seen dance in my life. It cannot ruin me to look just once"
 Rachel stood puzzled.
 ''rhee's old enough to judge for myself, IVY Rnf my do pxxy;tl thy inclinations through needless curiosity Thee knows thee's more impulslve than could wish-for thy own peace"
 '1'll be very, careful mother. If 1 feel in the least wicked will not look"
 She kissed her mothers hand winch rested on on the window-sill. Rachel did not like the kiss or Dorothys brilliant eyes and flushed cheeks, as the candle revealed them like fair picture painted on the darkness. She hesiia- ted, and Dorothy sped away up the lane with old John tagging at his halter.
 Was it the music growing nearer that quick ened her breathing, or only the closeness of the night, shut in between the wild grapevine curtains, swung from one dark cedar column to another? She caught the sweet brier breath as she hurried by, and now, loop in the leafy curtain revealed the pond lying black in hollow of the hills, with whole heaven of stars reflected on it. Old John stumbled along over tne stones, cropping the grass as he went. Dorothy tugged at his halter and urged hin on to the head of the lane where two farm gates stoop at right angles. One of them was open and number of horses were tethered in a row along the fence within. They whinneyed Il cheerful greeting tosJohn as Dorothy slipped his halter and shut him into the field adjoin- ing. Now should she walk into temptation with her eyes and ears open :? The gate stood wide, with only one field of perfumed meadow grass between her and the lights and music of Slocum's barn The sound of revelry by night could hardly have taken more innocent form than this rustic dancing of neighbors after ''raisin' bee, but had it been the rout of Con- us and his crew, and Dorothy the Lady Una, trembling near, her heart could hardly have throbbed more thickly as she crossed the dewy meadow. A young maple stood within ten rods of the barn and here she crouched in shadow. .t.t
 The great doors stood wide open and lan- terms were hung from the beams lighting the space between the mows, where dance was set, with youths and maidens in two long rows. The flddlers sat on barrel-heads near the door a lantern hanging inst behind nroiected their