The Cecil Whig. [volume] (Elkton, Md.) 1841-current, 1885-09-26
D0ROTHY'S COURAGE.

skirt, with a little three inch ruifie round
the bottom. 1t had also a short waist
and short, puffy sleeves, with frills of
girlish arms with very pretty effect.
About the waist a sash of rose colGred
utestring was tied in a great bow. The
fringed ends fell almost to the hem of
the three-nch rutile, and seemed 10
point to the white kid slippers, with
their diamond buckles, that were plainly
visible beneath the short skirt.
Dorothy was ready full half honr be-
fore it was time to 60 so that she had
ample opportunity after her mother and
Phmbc-thc little maid-had left her,
for a good many Last finishing touches
and final chances at hel self; and you may
be sure she was no more sparing of these
han any other young girl OF seventeen,
~ essed Tor her first party.
As she stands before the glass. giving
her lorg mts all extra pull, or settling
the rebellious curls above her forehead,
or patting the slceveputfS carefully, she
makes very pretty picture-a pretty
picture and quaint one, for the costume
is of the Revolutionary period. As set
her thus before you, you think you are
regarding a young gi,l of today perhaps,
decked out for some fancy dress party i'll
this old-time dress, but Dorothy belongs
to the time of her dress.
She is, or was, the daughter of Mr..
man who, from the Erst, had ranged
himself with those who protested against
the exactions of the British crown. a
gentleman of fortune his acquaintance
was largely with the aristocracy of the
country, who were mostly, if not all,
Tories. Dorothy's natural associates,
therefore, were the sons and daughters
of these Tories.
But visiting was not a free-and easy
matter with young people of her class,
as it is now; and brought up carefully at
home, under private instruction, she had
no opportunities for school intimacies.
The company she had seen the most of
up to this time had been her fathers
and mothers friends. Now and then
some one of the younger members of
their families, and thus had sprung up
an acquaintance which, while it formed
an agreeable variety in Dorothy's life,
was not of the Intimate and confidential
kind that exists between young girls of
this day. Indeed, intimacies of that
kind would have been thought forward
and improper, and would scarcely have
been permitted.
During the last year or two before Do
rothy's seventeenth birthday, there had
been little tea party civilities exchanged
between the young people, and if you
could have looked in upon these parties,
you wculd have seen picture for all the
world exactly like that quaint picture
that Kate Greenaway has in her pretty
book, Under the Window" where
Phillis and Belinda are sitting in a gar
den before small tea-table; charming
little maids, in their straight, scant
dresses and long sashes and black net
mts. But these were only mild, little
girl affairs, of the afternoon, Pa not a
fine gathering of youths ::.u maidens as
WAS this affair for v.ilch the seventeen
year-old Dorothy was prinking before
the glass.
e She had given, perhaps, the fortieth
over her forehead, when her fathers
voice called from below
"Doroths Dorothyr She caught up
her gay silk fan, tipped splenlidly with
peacock eyes, flung her red merino cloak
with its ca!cche hood, over her arm, and
wen: running down the stairs, her little
heels click-clacking as she went.
"lIcre | am, father, Has Thomas
brought tie c.laisc round?' she cried, AS
she met her father at the door of the
sitting-room.
"Oh, there's no hurry. only wanted
to see my fine bird in her new feathers,
and thought by what her mother had
Just been t, Hing me, that she had been
prcciing and pruning these feathers
quite long enough
Dorothy hluNhrd beneath he half
amused, half satiIlcal glance that her
father bosto"cd upon her. A> she
cgussud the ii ,ur, the autumn Wind that
united ni!h the h;;lc bi"Zr upon tie
hearth to make ii draught, seizt,i upon
her long sash ends and blew them out
Ike train.
".Ah, SIZES quite bird of Paradise .
or, catching sight OF the peacock tips,
''perhaps We might get Eearer To the
Truth if we got nearer to the earth -
Just then, on the box-borlered garden
path frontin. the window, Il magnificent
specimen of a peacock spread its splendid
court train, aud at the same moment
inter d the harsh, descendant cry for
which it is noted.
Mr.. Merr,lew gave little mock ing
laugh. There, my dear, Jnu see the
Piincc-y"u named your pet rightly
applauds and welcomes yen as one OF its
kind. You are gcing into The company
of those VIII" prefer just such princ, $,
with their shows and noiSt; but | hope
my Dorothy by this time has learned t."
know the truth and the right; to know
that kings aud princes and their follow
ers are not al ways as fine as They seem
outside
Dorothy knew quite well what her
father meant. She had not listened To
the earnest conversations between him
and his fljfudS from tine to time with
out gathering i'll their spirit, and be-
coming herself more or il SIS influenced
Mr.. Merrdew was an ardent believer
in the rights of men, and the justice of
the colonists' protest against the crowns
renewed taxation. She had heard ;he
whole discussed again and again, and
again and again had been thrilled with
her fathers eioquen1, impassioned words
as he had laid the case before some
wavering neighbor She knew that if it
came to the point of sacrifice, be was
willing to give his fortune and risk his
life for his principles.
Only week ago, when this invitation
had come for her to attend this fine fete
on the birthday of Mr.. Roberts Jennifer's
n11 Loot Oh l..