Democratic Northwest. [volume] (Napoleon, Ohio) 1869-1894, 1893-02-09
PRISCILLA'S ERROR.

1t was first day afternoon, and Friend
Priscilla Gibbons sat in the rocker in her
cozy front room. The fire in the CRATE
was of the brightest and cheeriest; tho
cat Oh the fur rug in front of the chin
neypiece purred in solemn and self
satisfied content; there were growing
plants and vines in the broad window,
and the sunshine filtered in through
their fresh leaves, making fecks of light
and shade on the gray carpet. 1t was
cold out of doors, but from that room
winter was shut out. 1t looked like a
Quaker room. Everything shaded to
gray and white. Friend Priscilla's
yearly meeting bonnet was not more
distinctly Friendly than was the pretty
room where she came with her knitting
or with her book in all her spare
moments, and where, on first day even
ings, she had her tea in honor of the
special character of the day.
But no thought of tea was entertained
in Friend Priscillas brain just then, as
she swung back and forth in her wicker
rocker. The restful peace with which
the day began had been scattered to the
four winds of heaven, and it was with a
soul entirely out of harmony with the
serenity of her surroundings that the
little lady sat there that afternoon.
"However could it have happenedy"
she moaned to herself over and over
again. "Jane is so careful and always
look over the things and put them away
myself" Like the Widow Green, "she
searched the Scriptures to find text
that would somewhat ease her mind per-
plexed," but nothing seemed to exactly
fit her case as she sighed to herself,
"They dresed so differently in those
days"
Friend Priscilla was the dearest old
Quaker lady who ever attended meeting
and sat in the gallery" She had sat
facing the meeting" for more years than
most of those in attendance at that par
ticular place of worship cared to count
up. Time had touched her lightly, and,
although her hair was little nearer
white and her small hands trife more
withered, her eyes were as bright and
her cheeks as soft and peachy as they
had been thirty years before. Friend
Priscilla was distinctly pretty old lady.
One of the younger and more irreverent
members of the meeting had greatly
scandalized the older Friends by heed.
lessly remarking, "We younger ones
have no chance in the matter of good
looks; Priscilla Gibbons is the belle OF
every yearly meeting"
It might be shrewdly suspected, too
that Friend Priscilla was privately aware
of her claims to consideration in the line
of appearance. Never was fashionable
dame more particular about her most
ceremonious toilet than was this little
Quakeress about her everyday apparel.
Gay it could not be, out of regard fol
both her conscience and her taste, but
exquisitely fine and soft and even in
coloring it always was. As she sat fac.
ing the meetings on first day mornings,
and as she talked with her class in the
afternoon first day school, she was as
fair and dainty to look upon as a piece
of Dresden china
And Friend Priscilla seldom knew a
care. To all appearances her life flowed
on in unruffled serenity. So it was a
matter for some surprise to the other
members of the meeting that the little
Lady had taken to preaching Of late. The
first day morning when she calmly un-
tied her bonnet strings, laid the bit Of
plain millinery on the cushion beside her,
arose and stood with her gray gloved
hands serenely clasped on the railing in
front of her while she preached clearly
and earnestly on the desirability of pre-.
serving tho Quaker traditions and Gus.
toms, was memorable one in the com.
munity.
The burden Of her little sermons was
always the preservation of the sacred
character Of the meetings, and her homi-
lies carried more weight with the young
er generation, and especially with the
children, than did those Of all the other
speakers put together. It was chiefly
through her influence that it grew Gus.
tomary for the first day school to attend
the morning meeting In a body, and any
tendency to restlessness or levity on the
part Of the youngsters was afterward
impressed upon them by Friend Priscilla
as a matter for deep and lasting sorrow.
The boy who on one occasion made a