The Manchester journal. [volume] (Manchester, Vt.) 1861-current, 1882-10-05

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breast, What most impressed me was Ia
she knitted gray woolen stockings all II
time, apparently never looking at the
and never dropping stitch. This tirue
me as avery marvellous feat, aud 10 tell u
truth ] must still think so, and do M
find ladies young or old nowadays VII
can do the same.
never imagined that my great-aur
Elizabeth had experienced livelier emo
tion than that consequent on dropping
stitch or havinga baking spoil. Not ii
long after she was laid away in one OF th
tombless mounds OF the Friends buryin
ground, did learn from some old letter
and papers what n whirlwind OF passio
and Of pain had swept through her lii
half a century before saw her.
She was the youngest daughter OF m.
ancestor, her father. who, with due respec
to his memory, must have been a choleri'
and tyrannical old fellow. She grew up
beauty, aad as at that time marriages were
formed early among the settlers OF Upland
where the family lived, her sisters wer,
soon carried off she lived alone with hel
father then widower. Naturally she did
not lack admirers, some from the surround
ing farms and some even from Philadel
phia and Newcastle. Two, however, were
particularly assidious; the one, John Hat.
ton, already the prosperous owner of a
farm in the neighborhood, the other
Thomas Ellsworth promising sprig OF
the law from Newcastle.
The latter was a dapper gentleman OF
the day, with wig and black silk stock
ings, and with the courteous manners OF
the Established Church, of which he and
his parents were members He showed to
great advantage in Elizabeth's. eyes in con-
trast with John Hatton, a heavy youth,
slow of speech, wearing al ill-ftting
Quaker suit Of homespun' and inclined to
surliness. But her father looked at mat
ters differently. He had feigned business
in Newcastle and found the Ellsworth
family to be. as he expressed it, of the
Maryland style of people, spending their
incomes in fine living, buying wines and
wearing imported goods. Altogether the
future of young Ellsworth looked to him
very problematical, so one evening he be-
gan
Elizabeth, see thee has two followers
who are coming often; | shall not urge
thee to marry either, but shall tell thee
one thee shall not marry, and that is Thom-
as Ellsworth. Nor shall he come again into
this house. shall have no sparks in silk
stockings enter my doors.
Elizabeth knew well the hard, inhex-
lble character of her father. She could
never remember to have sat on his knee,
nor to have kissed him. Yet she knew
that in his way he loved his family before
III else, and what rendered her case hope.
ess was this very love for her that promt'
ID his cruel action. She turned deathly
oale and sinking on bench said not
word.
Her father had expected passionate re-
nonstrance perhaps, but not silent acqui-
,scence. He well knew that her affections
we're for Ellsworth. Many men would
lave worked themselves into rage to
Justify their harshness But he needed no
uch self-deception. He acted as Friends
Isually act, with perfectly clear convic.
ions.
Thee knows that in this act for thy wei.
are. | cannot allow thee to enter family
'here the hours are passed in worldly
'leasures, where religion is hollow
rofession, and whose goods are squander-
d in folies. Let this relation go no fur.
her and now go to thy sleep.
Net till she was in her bed did Eliza
eth give way to those wild, choking soLs
'hich she had stihed by might effort.
,ife stretched before her long and sterile
lank. The light and the glory had utter
7 gone from it.
Next day she rose pale and haggard and i
ent about her duties as usual Her /
lther made no reference to the converse.
on. but he was restless. He knew that {
n Fifth-day evening Thomas Ellsworth |
aid bis usual weekly visit. This was {
ifth-day, and the old man evidently had Z
on his mind. So had Elizabeth /
airing she knew not what.
Toward sunset Ellsworth entered the
ne on horseback He was dressed as >
'ual with much care in the latest Eng =
sh fashion, and with usual black silk :,
ockings. As he entered the yard the old /,
an went ont and addressed him.
Thomas, thee can turn around and go
,me and stay there. do not wish more
thy visits
The young man was taken aback by this /
nguage but lost neither his prcsesnce OF a
ind nor his courtesy. d
Friend James, he said, may ] ask thee !
by thee treats me thus? l have not de- q
ryed ii. Thomas, though Of the Estab. b
he'd Church, adopted out OF policy the q
ain language with his Quaker friends,
| will tell thee why Thee comes for I
J daughter. Thee shall never have her, d
d here the hot headed nature Of the old 4
an got the better Of him aud G
burst out: shall never give her
aworldling who thinks to get my money {
spend on cards aud wine, and he added, 0
oking scornfully at the shapely limbs Of
Q young man, black silk stockings Ge, c
GO gone. Neither she nor | want to see J
ee again. /
A faint cry from an upper window led v
ith Of them TO look up. There, prone (,
ross the sill, lay the fain,ing form Of a
izAbc,h The old man with an impera.
e gesture Of anger bade the youth de-
ri Leaking hopelessly Al the house he