Alpena weekly argus. [volume] (Alpena, Mich.) 1871-1893, 1882-08-23

Idll, stdtcly anu uedutiul Olu lduy WOuiu
drive up in her coach-and-four every
Sunday to the door of one of the old
colonial churches in Virginia to attend
divine service after the ritual of the
Episcopal Church. She always came in
grand style, coach-and-four, footman
driver and outrider, as became a grand
dame of the old noblesse. The sight Of
that old yellow-bodied coach, with its
armorial quarterings in silver on panels
and harness, always seemed the realiza
ton of the old nursery lullaby:
Hush-a-bye, don't you cry
Hush-a-bye, my darling,
You shall have your coach-and-fouf
To ride like Becky Boiling;
which has been sung TO thousands and
hundreds of thousands of children in the
Old Dominion, where folklore and nur.
sery traditions have held potent sway
for two hundred years. But the old lady
of this story was not Becky Boiling
whose glories were sung in nursery songs
as incentives to virtue and good deeds
although she may have been blood
relative of the princely house of Boiling
on the theory of the old Virginia lady
who once said TO Knickerbocker who
had expressed surprise at the remarkable
consanguinity among Virginians: "Why
my dear sir, you need not be surprised
there is nothing remarkable in il, because,
in Virginia, we are all descended from
one common stock, while in New York
they arc descended from different ma.
tionalities. In Virginia, everybody who
is anybody at all, is kin to everybody
who is anybody"
AT all events, it is certain that Becky
Boiling, the belle and heiress Of her day
and time, belonged to the aristeia of so.
ciety; and so did the old lady in ques-
ton. But their supremacy was at long
intervals apart, Becky having been q
belle when General Washington was q
beau in his prime, while our old lady
lived until after the Revolution, and had
seen the establishment of Church and
State follow the fortunes of the then
young republic; had seen most of the
parsons sent by the Crown to ofliciate in
the parish churches turn to be as great
rebels as Patrick Henry or MIR. Wythe.
She had sat under the preaching of that
good man Parson Jarrett, who had lived
at Annsvillc, the family scat of promi-
nent family, until he married and went
ishoners after he had welded wife. So
the old lady lived long after Becky Boll-
ing, and was much beloved and respected
as the heroine of the nursery rhyme.
The old lady had history, sad, sor-
rowful history; heart history, racking
and wrecking in its violence. But she
outlived it like the prisoner of Chillon;
she was too brave to succumb. and lived
through it all.
She was q marvel to look at as she
would descend from hercoach at the old
church door-and everybody in those
days did not ride in coaches. She came
out to church only in the early spring,
when the dainty white hyacinths were
in bloom; when the jonquil and mar
cissus, the daffiodil and the lilac filed the
air with their modest fragrance; before
the gaudy rose and the ruby-lipped tulip
had opened their intoxicating cups. The
old lady always wore Il bunch of white
hyacinths at her throat, and carried them
in her hand. She was never seen with
out them; and she consequently never
appeared in public except in the season
of these blessed flowers.
But with the season of hyacinths the
old lady departed and did not rcappear
until the springtime was again ushered
in with all its sweets and flowers. Her
face was colorless as the flowers she
wore, a pure, highbred absence of color
that came from perfect repose and purity
OF heart. For fifty years no one had
ever seen her agitated OF heard her utter
hard or unkind word to man or beast.
The storm had done its worst, and had
passed over her, leaving her apparently
dead as the marble she looked like. She
led life of utter calm and stagnant
desolation, like sheet of water held in
icy chains. She betrayed no emotion of
Joy or sorrow, but had smile and
kind word for all her friends and neigh
bors. Once only she seemed TO be
moved, when the congregation was wall
ing through the litany and praying to be
delivered from "battle and murder and
sudden DEATH" For few moments the
invocation seemed TO recall her to life
and the memories of the past, for her
head sank lower, her prayer book closed
and she gave wild, despairing look to
the Clergyman. She kneeled longer
than usual, and her lips moved nervous
ly longer in prayerth was rightly GUS
tomary. All who knew her understood
it and looked with tears and pity on the
wretched old lady and remembered that
she was mad as far as q woman could be
whose heart, whose hopes, whose emo
tons had all died long, long ago.
The story of Mary Harrison is short
and sorrowful. Her heart received a
sudden killing blow that crushed the
light of love ont of her, sharply and
suddenly. She was the daughter of an
old aristocratic house, once very wealthy,
but then decayed somewhat in their for
tune. She was the idol of her circle of
acquaintances, and beloved by two suit
ors at the same time, one of them rich
and influential, but unbeloved by his
neighbors. The other lover was young
lawyer, descended from the best blood Of
the gentry, but poor and dependent on
his talents for success in life. He was
young, handsome and clever; had already
made his mark in politics and his pro-
fession, and had been elected to tho
House of Burgcsses by his adoring con-
stituents. He loved Mary Harrison pas
sionately and had wooed and won her
affections, with the cold assent of her
father. In those days, hoporable gal
lants always "spoke TO the parents first
before formal declaration to the young
lady in question. The reputation Of
John Nelson was irreproachable, and
Mr.. Harrison coldly assentcd to the
union with his daughter, but procrasti-
mated the time of marriage almost in
definitely He hoped that by delay their
affections would wear out, and that his
daughter would finally listen TO the suit
OF Colonel Stockworth, the wealthy lover,
who had lands and barrels of money.
Stockworth was an unlovablc man, cold
and vindictive, cruel to his servants and
~ penuriously grasping rs any Shylock.
Months and Years rolled by, and the
Solution of the anti hetveen Mary Hsr