CHAPTER III

"If ye court society for pastime, – what happier recreation than a nurseling.

Its winning ways, its prattling tongue, its innocence and mirth." Tupper.

Saturday, June 6th.

Oh! Mother, if you could sit by me for an hour it would be so delightful, for I have much to tell you, and my pen will not move fast enough. But I will begin my story. I dressed in due time. The girls will be pleased to know that I wore my white lisse crape, with no ornaments but the flowers in my hair, and a small bunch in my bodice. When I descended to the parlor, Frank was awaiting me, and his eyes expressed satisfaction with my toilet.

We repaired to the cottage early, by mother's request. Soon after carriages began to roll up to the door. I was presented first to the clergyman, Mr. Munroe, who has been settled in Crawford but a short time. He is very free and social in manner, dignified and graceful in person; I think he will prove an agreeable friend. Mother says, he loves the work in which he is engaged.

There was also a younger minister present, from an adjoining parish, about whom I must make some farther inquiries. He was quite too devoted in his attentions to my fair sister Emily; and when I asked of her an explanation, a blush was her only reply.

I cannot begin to describe one half the persons who were present, but I will mention a few, who, from different causes, interested me.

A tall portly man, hardly a gentleman, with a self-important air, a very large pattern to his vest, with heavy chains and seals, which he dangled incessantly, addressed me in a patronizing manner. He asked me how I liked "living among Yankees," and said I must come round to his place before I made up my mind about it. He then bowed himself away. Emily said, in a low voice, "that is our nabob, Squire Lee."

Next came an elderly gentleman, who, in figure and conversation, formed a striking contrast to the one who preceded him. This was Mr. Marshall, a distinguished attorney. He was accompanied by his wife, a very handsome lady considerably younger than her husband. They both expressed much kind interest in the young stranger.

Then came a lovely young lady with her brother, children of Squire Lee, the distiller. The young man seemed cast in the same mould as his father. He was dressed in the height of fashion, but without taste, with a flaunting neck tie, a gayly embroidered vest, and full pantaloons. He was rather below the medium height, but of very full habit. His face was flushed, and when he bowed the blood rushed violently to his head, rendering his face red as crimson. But his air was so consequential, and his talk in a style so pompous and imposing, I could scarcely suppress my mirth. This was the more noticeable by the contrast of his whole appearance with his sister, a very modest, amiable looking girl, who evidently feared lest her brother, in his desire to impress me with his dignity, should disgrace both himself and her.

After these, came the Mansfields, the Harrisses, Justice Wilson and family, the Johnsons, Mr. Willard, Dr. Clapp, Mr. and Mrs. Morris Whitney, and a great many whom I cannot remember.

When this procession had passed with a word of salutation from each, with now a bow, and then a smile, Mrs. Marshall introduced to me a lady whose countenance I shall never forget. I should think her near fifty years of age, not handsome, but with a kind expression, full of mildness and benevolence. Frank addressed her very cordially, saying to me, "Miss Proctor is my particular friend." I gave her my hand again, and asked a share in her friendship. She was evidently much pleased, and pressed my hand at parting.

Near the close of the evening, I met Mr. and Mrs. Russell, a very delightful couple. His manner reminded me of Frank's; dignified and rather reserved, yet easy and graceful in conversation. His wife, on the contrary, was full of life and spirits, original and witty.

While we were in the refreshment room, I overheard several persons, talking about a woman lately deceased in the village. She was a French woman, and by her death her child was left without protection. I became quite interested for the poor foundling, and was glad to learn that Miss Proctor was to pass the night, in the hope of being able with mother, to provide for the little orphan.

It was quite late; but Frank stopped at my request to hear more of her history. On Tuesday of this week, the day of our arrival, the French woman called at the public house, saying, in broken English, that she was ill and wished for a bed. The landlady attended her, and soon found it necessary to summon a physician. She grew rapidly worse and died the next evening. She had informed the landlady that the child was not hers, but entrusted to her care by its mother, to be conveyed from France to England. The vessel in which they sailed was wrecked. But they, with a few other passengers and some of the crew, were taken on board an American vessel and brought to New York. Beyond this nothing is known.

I have quite an idea of adopting the foundling if Frank will consent.

Evening.

Dear, Dear Mother. – On my way to see the little French girl, I told Frank it would please me to take the orphan. He smiled as he replied, "I shall certainly make no objection."

I expected to see a poor, disconsolate child, weeping for its mother. Judge then of my astonishment, and delight, when I found a perfect little fairy. She is a brilliant brunette, with magnificent eyes, fringed with long black lashes, which rested on her cheek as she looked timidly down when I entered. I was so impressed with her appearance that I instinctively held out my arms, and said "viens à moi, ma chère!"

The blood rushed to her face, as with a bound she sprang toward me, and laying her curly head on my breast, said, "ma chère maman, je t'aime beau coup, beau coup."

This decided me; and I adopted her in my heart. Frank was desirous to ascertain all that was known about my little protege. Mrs. Morrison, the landlady, left me holding "Ina," as she called herself, tightly in my arms, while she led my husband to the room where the body of the woman was decently laid out for burial. He told me when he returned that the child bore not the slightest resemblance to her attendant.

After looking at the corpse, the landlady gave him a small packet, which she had found in the pocket of the deceased; also a necklace and locket taken from the child's neck. The locket contained a miniature to which Ina bore a close resemblance. Frank looked eagerly for an inscription, but found only the words "Maman à Ina."

"I think these ought to be preserved for the child," said Mrs. Morrison. "Who knows but they may bring out some day who her parents were?" Frank assented, and assured her that the articles should be sacredly preserved.

"Your wife seems to take a great liking to her."

"Yes," replied the Doctor, "as they are both strangers in this country, she thinks the little girl has rather a claim upon her."

"Is she a Frencher too? I always heard she was English."

"Mrs. Lenox was educated in Paris," he replied.

"La now!" exclaimed the woman, covering the face of the corpse, "I didn't think of her being so learned."

Frank then inquired whether the deceased woman left any property, and offered to pay the expenses they had incurred. Mrs. Morrison brought forward an old pocket-book containing a few dollars, which she said would cover all the expenses. "As to the child," she continued, "I couldn't think of charging anything for her. Somebody may one day have to be looking after my little folks;" and this thought brought a tear to her eye.

I was talking merrily with my sweet charge, when they returned to the parlor, and having thanked the warm-hearted landlady for her kindness to the child, we took our departure.

I was so impatient to go home, and show my treasure to mother and sister, that I begged to be excused from a drive, Frank had promised me. Emily was quite as enthusiastic as I wished, in her praise of my Ina, and tried playfully to induce me to resign my protegé in her favor. The little one, however, was fully persuaded I was her mamma; and I felt no desire to undeceive her.

She is now safely asleep in her crib; the same in which Frank and Emily were rocked. I have crept softly into the room two or three times. The whole affair appears like a pleasant dream. Miss Proctor has made a night-dress; and Monday I must commence vigorously upon her wardrobe. Emily has promised to assist me.

Sabbath evening – June 7th.

This is my first Sabbath in America. It has been a delightful day to me; and I think I can say, it has been blessed to my soul. Though far away from country, home and friends, yet I could meet you all at the throne of Grace. I prayed for every dear member of the home-circle, and for my beloved husband, myself and my precious charge.

I went to church morning and afternoon, and was much impressed by the services. There is a seriousness and solemnity about the audience, which I have seldom witnessed. The sermons were chaste and in some passages even elegant in style. But what pleased me more than all, was the fervor with which Mr. Munroe delivered them, and the love which he manifested for the souls of his people.

In the morning the text was 1 Cor. 15, 22: "For as in Adam all die, even so in Christ shall all be made alive." He dwelt upon the death which reigns in consequence of Adam's sin; and in the afternoon, upon the resurrection-life which all receive from Christ.

The singing was performed by a choir in the orchestra, accompanied by a variety of instruments.

When I returned from Church this morning, my little Ina was still asleep, as I had left her. But this afternoon as I went in, she came bounding toward me, clapping her hands, and saying "chère maman! chère maman!" I had to take her to my boudoir to put off my bonnet and shawl, for she would not leave me. She was willing while in my arms to play with Frank; but if he attempted to take her from me, she hid her face in my neck. I like to have her call me mamma when we are alone; but it makes Emily laugh, and I see Frank is inclined to follow her example, only that he sees it makes me blush, and embarrasses me. Sweet child! I wish she were my own; I cannot bear the thought of parting with her. Yet it may be that her mother is mourning her loss.

Do you remember Pauline De Lacy, my dear friend and school-mate, in Paris? Ina looks so much like her, one would think they must belong to the same family; indeed, sisters seldom resemble each other so exactly. To-day, this has occurred to me so many times, that, with the consent of all parties, I have decided to call her Pauline De Lacy Lenox. "Quite a romantic name," Frank says, gravely; "but as you are a very romantic lady, it will be in good taste."

I looked up quickly, intending to deny the charge, when I saw that roguish twinkle in his eye, which I begin to understand.

After an early tea, the servants were called to family prayers, mother and Emily being present, who are hereafter to return from church and spend Sabbath evening with us. In addition to the usual services at the domestic altar, the good old Puritan custom of catechising the household is observed. It was truly a family service. The scene was novel and interesting to me. All joined in singing a hymn, and then the Doctor expressed our individual wants in prayer. I was a little fearful that Pauline would not be quiet; but there was a charm in Cæsar's devout face which occupied all her attention. Perhaps a very little fear was mingled with her wonder, as she nestled herself very close to me. But the good man took no heed of the large eyes fixed on him with such seriousness. His soul was drinking in the Word, while he regarded his young master with fond respect.

When the rest of the servants retired, he remained, and the Doctor asked him, "Well, my good Cæsar, how have you enjoyed the day?"

"Oh, Mass'r! dis yer pears like good old times when old Mass'r live. Dem good old days, berry!" Cæsar wiped his eyes with his coat sleeve as he left the room; and his was not the only eye moistened by this allusion to the past.

I don't know as I told you that Cæsar and Phebe were purchased by Squire Lenox from the south, where they were about to be sold separately. He brought them to the north, where, of course, they are free; and they have ever since constituted an important part of the family. Taught to read and write, they have for many years been members of the same church with their master and mistress.

Monday Morning, June 8th.

Frank has just left me for his morning calls. He came in from the garden when Cæsar brought the carriage to the door, and not finding me below, he sprang up the stairs to bid me good bye. Pauline looked up quickly and pointed with her finger to direct my attention, saying, "dere Frank."