The Portland daily press. [volume] (Portland, Me.) 1862-1921, 1886-12-21
THE ELoPEM EMIT.
a Legend of the Shore.
Boston Traveller.

Boston Traveller.
1t was my good fortune to spend the hap
Ply summers of my youthful days in an old
seaport town, whose glory has long since de-
parted. Its fast decaying wharVes had once
echoed to the tread of busy feet, and many
very stately ships had been moored beside
them.
Now, as In my childhood days, no proud
ship finds haven in the still waters of its
harbor; its deserted ship yards ring no more
with the sound Of axe or hammer; the busy
hum Of commerce is stilled, and a silence,
broken only by the fisherman's call, or the
merry laughter of some yachting party, per-
Yades what was once very busy, thriving
place.
But commerce has left traces of wealth be-
hind, and remember some old fashioned,
though stately houses, standing near the
shore.
These were the homes of some of New
England's famous sea captains, and in one of
these, old houses passed those happy sum
mer days.
The men of the family had all been sailors,
commanding some of the finest and best
known American ships. No ports had been
too distant for them, and they had brought
home, as gifts, spoils from every CLINE. Now
all dead and gone, the women OF the family
lived alone, surrounded by treasures from
over the sea-
The old friend who had charge of us was
very fond of children, and was never hap
pier than when relating to us the stories of
sea and shore, with which her mind was
stored: and when a rainy day came, driving
us from the beach, we liked nothing better
than to listen to her charming legends.
will repeat to you as nearly as can re-
member, the story of the elopement that took
place many years ago. As | recall it, | seem
TO hear again the musical voice, long since
hushed, to which the swapping of the drift
wood fire upon the hearth, and the distant
booming of the surf upon the beach, formed
a fitting accompaniment
A long time ago, when was a little girl,
the events happened that am about to re-
late to you. My grandmother knew all about
1t, and j often heard her tell the story 10 the
young folks, in my day, as | am telling 1T to
you.
In that large old fashioned house, which
stands on the brow of Beach Hill, lived a
very wealthy gentleman, called Judge Cush-
man.
say he lived there, but he only spent part
Of the year in the little town of s., for
his business kept him in the city during the
winter months; but as soon as the warm
days came the house would be opened, and
he would ride through the town in his big
coach, drawn by four horses and driven by
eOlored ceachman.
The Judge was a widower, and lived alone
with his servants and an old housekeeper.
SO you may imagine the surprise of the viii
layers one day early in the spring of 1872,
when they heard that Squire Cushman, as
Cus
lovely young girl.
At first all thought that he had married
again, but soon the report was circulated
that his niece had come from England alone,
with only maid to attend her, to visit him.
And a long visit we all thought it would be-
for war had just been declared with Great
Britain, and probably there would be no
friendly intercourse between the two coun-
tries for long time.
OF course all were anxious to see the new
hut God fha fAl-
lowing Sabbath, when She appeared at church
with the old Squire.
She was true English maiden, with fair
hair and lustrous blue eyes, and complex
lon In which lilies and roses were skillfully
blended by natures hand. She was the
observed of all observers" but bore herself
m0destly, seeming unconscious of the gaze
of all around her.
Many werethe questions asked, many the
conjectures formed, as to her presence in the
lonely house SO far from home, and in an en-
euiy's country and finally the mystery was
solved by the old housekeeper who divulged
II rs great secret to friend of hers, an in
veterate gossip, who divulged 1t as great
secret to friend of hers, an inveterate Cos
sip, who soon made the affair the property of
the whole neighborhood.
Rose Cushman, the daughter of the Squire's
only brother, was motherless child, and
had grown to womanhood without knowing
what 1t was to be refused the slightest wish,
for she had always been her fathers idol.
he had planned in her early childhood that
she should marry the son of his most init
mate friend.
But such designs are rarely accomplished.
at the age Of nineteen Rose met young and
gallant officer in his Majesty's navy, and lost
her heart almost at first sight. The affec-
ton was reciprocated, and not dreaming of
any obstacle, the lovers plighted their troth
with the fondest and brightest hopes for the
future.
But the father of Rose sternly refused to
consent to their engagement, and forbade
Rose ever to see her lover again. But years
OF Indulgence had not prepared his daughter
for such arbitrary measures, and she cOntin-
ued to meet her lover secretly whenever she
was able to do so.
One meeting in the park near the house
was witnessed by her father, and so incensed
was he by this open defiance of all his COM
mands, that he ordered the brave young sail
or from his grounds, using the harshest Ian
guage.
Rose returned to the house, locked herself
into her room, and was soon convulsed with
perfect passion Of tears; for under her
sweet and charming exterior, she hid will
that was just as strong and unsubdued as her
fathers.
In subsequent interviews with her father.
she vowed she never could or would forget
Charles Ashton. Not all the affection she
bore her father, not all the remembrance of
his kindness and love, would prevent her
meeting her lover whenever an opportunity
was found. He well knew that the young
man was Of honorable birth and good posi-
ton, but he could not give up the early plans
he had formed for her future.
After weeks Of fruitless argument with his
daughter, It suddenly occurred to him to send
ner 70 his brother, our Squire Cushman, in
America.
1t seemed in those days a long journey to
an almost unknown land, but her father
thought few months in strange country
would tame his self-willed daughter, and
that before winter he would join her. visit
his beloved brother, and another year would
ind Rose willing TO return and comply with
his wishes.
OF course we could not know how Rose
bore the announcement Of her exile, nor did
We know till long after, that she contriyed to
write her lover sorrowful letter of fare
well, telling him her destination, and the
cruel sentence of punishment she was will
ing to bear for his sake.
need hardly say that all the young folks
sympathized with Rose, and many of the
girls longed to make her. acquaintance, and
learn from her own lips the story of her I'M
fortunate love affair
The old people, however, thought she mer-
tied severe punishment for daring to defy
her father, and the minister even preached
O sermon soon after her arrival, in which
stern rebuke was administered to those who
failed to Honor their fathers and mothers"
Rose was equally unmoved by the admo-
nitions OF the minister, or even the looks of
sympathy that were given her by the young
folks.
The Squire did all in his power to make
thu visit agreeable, even relaxing his habit
ual reserve, and inviting all the young peo-
pie In the neighborhood to his house to be
introduced to his niece.
Although Rose was very sweet and gra-
ci0us to all her guests, no one became at all
familiar with her. and finally all attempts at
Intimacy ceased, and she was left to the COM
partnership OF her uncle and her old nurse.
She spent great part of the time on the
beach reading, or stretched upon the sand,
her head In her nurses lap, conversing with
her In low tones, or dreaming day dreams OF
her home and her lover.
In the summer evenings the hard sand was
the promenade of the village. Rose walked
apart from all the rest, with her eyes fixed
on the sea, its rippling waves gilt by the
mOonbeams, hearing perhaps in the break
ers that dashed upon the distant rocks, a
message from other lands.
But active preparations for war soon ban
ished all minor topics. The young men were
getting ready to join their ships; privateers
were being fitted out and the whole country
was wild with excitement.
Our village became almost deserted. Every
vessel Of any size was manned and equipped
with guns and ammunition, and sent out to
meet the enemy. and all the poor wives and
mothers could do was to watch and wait at
home. News travelled slowly in those days,
and tidings of defeat or victory seemed long
In coming.
Often we climbed the hill and from the
Ahu