The progressive farmer. [volume] (Winston, N.C.) 1886-1904, 1889-04-09

first place I wanted to dance, I wanted to
see the girls and wanted to be in Ipswich.
I did not choose to give up the party be-
cause my man at the stable was late in
| sending around my horses. That was the
way in which I finally put it in my mind.
But you have no right to expose me or
any other girl to any such modification.
You have been careless enough before,
and somehow, in some way, we will see
that you are rightly punished. You must
not expect to find me with my muf on
my hands whenever you choose to
whistle"
The young fellow deserved a great deal
worse scolding than this. And, to tell
the truth, bit by bit, he had his share that
night of seedlings much worse than this.
But the foundation was thus laid for the
whole evening, in which he was taught a
hundred times that he was on his good
behavior, that he must repent and reform.
The truth was that he was the spoiled
child of Salem, everybody knew him and
everybody liked him; and he went and
came as a sort of Alcibiades, doing very
much as he chose, and %supposing that his
omissions would be atoned On the ground
of his general public spirit and infallible
good nature.
Among other good things which he had
picked out for his w had been the COM
p~anionship of Sarah Paris on any such
occasion as this sleighing party. She
was the favorite of everybody, and well
deserved to be-. She was pretty, graceful,
good natured and sufficiently well-in-
formed. In the simple society of Salem
at hat time she was a leader as he was a
looIor Tf Soroh porriC on6 HorpU C11p-
wen determined that thus and so should be
done, in the range of things which came.
into the life of the young people of Salem,
that thing was done. This was as sure as
the rising of the sun. Naturally he cor
ferred with her and she with him; natur-
ally she called him Harry and he called
her Sarah; naturally he waited for her
when the dance was over at Mrs. Picker
ing's or Col. Lees, and walked home
with her. He would do so without ask
ing leave beforehand, or with asking
leave, as might happen. Indeed this
illustration was the only n he used, in
the lame attempt he made to excuse him
self to Sarah as they rode together.
why, of course you were to go with
me, from the first moment we talked it
over at Madam Endicott's. I should as
soon ask Parson Bently to come and
preach next Sunday. I no more thought
of asking you to come with m than I
thought of asking you to walk home with
me from my mothers"
The young people of a hundred years
ago certainly knew how to enjoy them
selves. Here were more than fifty gay
couples, each lad and each maid dressed
and well dressed for winter, here were
more than fifty gay horses, or spans of
horses, who enjoyed the frolic as much as
those who drove them. Here was an
innocent earth white with "innocent
snow" and over it a heaven of unspotted
and unclouded blue. The country rolls a
little, just enough to vary from second to
second the simmer of the bright sun on
the sparkling frost. There was forest
enough, and not too much, enough for
the cheerful suggestion of life and strength
and shelter which invariably belongs to
the grave, g~ood-natured, hospitable ever
green's, while through open fields and
with long afternoon shadows, the merry
party could scamper on. Sometimes they
shouted to each other. Sometimes one
sleigh struck up a song, and the neighbors,
before and behind, too it up and in a long
trailing fugue it ran on the voices of half
a mile of singers. More often, what Lady
Delacour called p%ropinquity did it's perfect
work, aud the two partners said aloud to
each other what they need not whisper
and talked of n or another trife or of
one or another of the e~ternities. More
easily than they could have talked were
they looking into each others faces, or
were there any possibility of another
listener.
And so in an hour and a. half of the
iveliest life which can be conceived, the
gay young party, driving always north in
the bright afternoon, came to the hill on
which Ipswich stands, and, almost for the
first time, the drivers drew rein a little, as
the horses walked up to Squire Beers
tavern. The sun was just setting in the
unclouded west, and as one after another
sleigh by her cavalier, the party grouped
red ball sunk down behind the hills. For
a moment only, and then they all rushed
into the open halls of the great tavern,
and welcomed the preparations which had
been made for them.
No one had forgotten to send word to
Mr.. Beers. Bellies might have been for
gotten, but not the entertainment for the
evening. A messenger had Informed him
the day before that a party of the gayest
and brightest and best of Salem would be
there, and half Ipswich had been at work
to make the proper preparation. There
was a fire of oak in every fireplace of
every room. In the hall there stood
great pitchers of flip, which only needed
to be heated; and, in the great fireplace
of the corner room, which was a sort of
room of entrance, were a dozen pokers at
white heat, waiting to be used at the mo-
ment Of arrival. As one girl after another
was led in by her attendant, he took her
to one or another Of the tables on which
these great pitchers of sweetened cider
perhaps with a little spirit, stood and one
or another laughing attendant brought the
hoo .nd nnLnr and nlunnad = - NJ s;l