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 Half Title
 Frontispiece
 Title Page
 The family pets; or, the pleasures...
 The sleighride














Title: child's jewels, the amethyst
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Title: child's jewels, the amethyst
Series Title: child's jewels, the amethyst
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Table of Contents
    Half Title
        Page 1
    Frontispiece
        Page 2
    Title Page
        Page 3
        Page 4
    The family pets; or, the pleasures of a country life
        Page 5
        Page 6
        Page 7
        Page 8
        Page 9
        Page 10
        Page 11
        Page 12
        Page 13
        Page 14
        Page 15
        Page 16
        Page 17
        Page 18
        Page 19
        Page 20
        Page 21
        Page 22
        Page 23
        Page 24
        Page 25
        Page 26
        Page 27
        Page 28
        Page 29
    The sleighride
        Page 30
        Page 31
        Page 32
        Page 33
        Page 34
        Page 35
        Page 36
        Page 37
        Page 38
        Page 39
        Page 40
        Page 41
        Page 42
        Page 43
        Page 44
        Page 45
        Page 46
        Page 47
        Page 48
        Page 49
        Page 50
        Page 51
        Page 52
        Page 53
        Page 54
        Page 55
        Page 56
        Page 57
        Page 58
        Page 59
        Page 60
        Page 61
        Page 62
        Page 63
        Page 64
Full Text












CHILD S JEWELS.



The TOPAZ.
AND
The AMETHYST.





























BLANCHE AND THE CAPUCHIN.-fPage








THE CHILD'S JEWELS.


PUBLISHED BY
LEAVITT & ALLEN,
27 DEY STR.EET.
i]Ra.

























Entered, acw Nring to Act or Cornrea, in the year l84I,
By JOSIAH AfDAMS,
in the Clerk's Ofice of the Dlwtrict Court of the United Stat e
in and fi~r Sthe Southermn itrwt or New Yrk.












Stereotyped by Redfield & Savage,
13 Clhamber street, N. Y.












THE FAMILY PETS:
OR,


MR. MORTON was as intelligent


seafaring man, who


had for many


years resided


in New


had now purchased a
tage in the country,


beautiful
to which


family had removed during


his ab-


sence, and where they were in daily
expectation of welcoming his re-
turn. His children were delighted


York.









with the change, and felt that noth-
ing could induce them to go back


again to the city.


To them, a resi-


dence in the country was associated
with many new pleasures. They
expected to find to find abundant scope for


their lovir
chickens,


ig hearts, in pet lambs,
bees, &c., &c. But, as


their mother was in


feeble health,


and their father absent, this part of
their establishment was neglected;


and Harry and his


roamed the


fields,


sister every day


joyous in


liberty which a country residence


gives, but eager to find


something


At last, one day they


for a pet.









espied a toad hopping along through


" Oh, catch him


him !"


said Harry,


" and we will


carry him home.


I will


make a


little box for him, and feed him just
as cousin Charles did his rabbits."
The toad soon became their cap-
tive, and in great glee they took him


home to theitheir mother.


She smiled,


and advised their restoring


its lib-


erty; however, at their earnest im-
portunity, she consented to their
trying their skill in awakening af-


fiction in a toad.
and had a snug


He was well fed,
little place to live


Every day they allowed him a


grass.









ramble, keeping watch


escape.


They gave him


name of "Jumpy," and tried many
arts to make him answer to his
name, and hop after them when
they called him.
One day, as they were playing
near the well, poor Jumpy gave a


sudden


spring from Harry's hands,


and dropped


into the well,


which they could never recover him.


While


Harry was trying various


experiments to draw up poor Jumpy,
Mary strolled away into the field, in


search


of some new amu


segment.


After a little time, she came run-


not


from


I


\


that he did









ning back, quite out of breath, ex-
claiming, as she pushed open the


gate and
" Harry !


rushed into the garden,
Harry do you know


where Fanny is ?


I have something


to show her."
What is it, sister ? what is it V"


said Harry,


suddenly


rope, and abandoning
to his fate-


" Oh!


dropping his
poor Jumpy


it is the most beautiful


flower in the world.


Look!


it is."


" What is it,


Mary


Where did


you find it ?"
Why, you curious little chatter-


here









box, you have not told me where


Fanny
see it


is, yet; and I want her to


before it fades.


she is, all alone, in the


Oh there
grape-arbor.


She can tell us all about it."


Away flew


Mary and Harry,


meet their sister, who was busily


engaged with a book, in


a little lat-


ticed arbor, covered with a luxuri-


ant grape-vine.


Fanny was quite a


botanist, and always expected to be
regularly catechized, whenever the
children found anything in the fields
or woods which they had not seen


before.


So she quietly laid down


her book, as they came up, and told









them all she knew about their new-


discovered treasure.


It was the


first wild flower they had


found


that season-a beautiful anemone.


Fanny talked with


them awhile


about it, and then promised to go
with them, the next day, and look
for more.
Thank you, dear Fanny !" they
both exclaimed; we should be de-


lighted to go."
But let us wait till


home,"


father comes


said Mary, after a moment's


pause.
Oh, yes !


so we will,"


Harry, who always


said


agreed with his









sister; we will wait for
and perhaps he will go with


the woods.
wont he, Fan


He will come


Fanny was intent on her


soon,


book


again, and did


question.


not hear her broth-
But Mary took it up


at once, and replied:


" Oh, yes !


Fanny told me, this morning, that
she thought father would be at home


before the end


of this week.


now Wednesday, and he must come


very soon.


But let us run and ask


mother about it."


Mrs. Morton was sitting a
ndow, engaged in sewing,


t the
and


~R1









heard all that had passed in the gar-
den. She did not wait to be asked,


for she was as glad
were, to feel that


as the


the


children


time was


near for berhusband's return.


my children," she said,
will come very soon.


"your father


I sh


lould not


be surprised to see him to-morrow."
The happy children ran away
down the garden, with many excla-


nations of delight.


over the


The


matter for some


y talked
time to-


gether, and formed many pleasant
plans for amusement, in which their


father was to take


a part,


as if he


had nothing else to do.


"Yes,









Somewhat later in the evening,
they were standing with Fanny un-
der the piazza, looking at the sun,
as it went down behind the west-


ern hills. Mary thought


it strange


that they could look at the sun then,
without any difficulty, while it was
impossible to do so at noon. Fanny
was about to explain the cause,


when Harry,


suddenly springing


down upon the walk, scampered
away, exclaiming with all his might,


" There is


father!


there is


father !


coming over the meadow."
Down dropped the kitten, which
Mary hal been fondling in her arms,







THE FAMILY PETS.


ran the little


her brother, crying


after


out, Mother !


mother! here comes father!"


out heeding whether
heard her or not. Fa
Mrs. Morton, though


with-


her mother
.nny followed
not quite so


madly; and before Mr. Morton had


reached the little brook,


that sepa-


rated the garden from the meadow,
the whole family were there, to give
him a welcome.


the time


that he was


seated


in his own great-chair,


and Fanny


had put away his hat, Mary and
Harry had asked him a score of
questions about his voyage, without


and away







16


waiting for answer to one of them.
Presently Harry, who could not keep
still, he was so delighted, cried out,


" Dear


father, here comes a man


with a large trunk, and another with
two- what are those things the
other man is bringing in his hands ?
Why, I do believe they are cages !


So they are,


Mary--and birds


them, too! Are they yours, father?"


" Yes ;


they are for you and Ma-


You may have them brought


into the parlor, and I will


all about them."


Only look, mother !"
Harry, as he came back


tell you

shouted
with the







THE FAMILr PETS. 17

cages; "here are two beautiful
doves. But what is this dull-look-
ing fellow, with a plain brown coat,
in the other cage I I don't think
he is pretty at all."
Why, Harry! it is a mocking-
bird," answered Mary, as soon as
she looked at him. I would much
rather have him for mine, than to
have the doves, that can not sing-'
"Well," said the father, "you
are both suited. Mary shall have
the mocking-bird, and Harry the
doves. But remember, it is only on
condition that you take good care
of them."







18 THE FAMILY PETS.


"Oh,


yes,


indeed !


we will be very careful


dear father;
of them for


your sake."
But they


will


require


a great


deal of attention every day, to keep
them clean, and to feed them; and,
if they are ever neglected, you will


have to


give them up to Fanny."


They both promised


to be


wearied in their attentions to their
birds, and soon they were all en-
gaged in trying to find some pretty


names to distinguish them by.


One


of the doves was a clear,


white, and


Mary thought


beautiful
the best


name in the world for her would be







THE FAMILY PETS. 19

Blanche, for she had seen in her
book that that meant white. The
other was a singular-looking bird;
and, for sometime, they were much
puzzled to think of an appropriate
name. The legs were covered, even
to the claws, with feathers, no two
of which are alike. On his head
was a cap of dark feathers, resem-
bling, in appearance, the cowl worn
by the Capuchin friars. From this
circumstance, it was concluded to
name him the Capuchin."
As the doves were not to be kept
in a cage, they had great fears that
puss would be a troublesome neigh-






S20 THE FAMILY PETS.

bor; and it was, therefore, thought
necessary to discipline her. She
was, accordingly, brought into the
room where they were, and she im-
Smediately sprang at them, as if she
would tear them to pieces. Fanny,
who was watching her, gave her a
smart blow with a rod, which caused
her to turn suddenly away, and run
out of the room. This was repeated
two or three times a day, for sev-
eral days, until puss had learned to
be perfectly quiet in the presence
of the doves. She afterward be-
came so familiar, that she would
allow them to eat from the same







THE FAMILY PETS. 21

dish with her, and to alight on her
back, without attempting to annoy
them.
Mary's mocking-bird was not so
tame as the doves, and it was some
considerable time before she could
feel that he would be any compan-
ionship for her. She called him by
every kind name she could think of,
but he would not come to he-. He
fluttered about his cage, as if quite
discontented and homesick; and
Mary, after many unsuccessful ef-
forts to get acquainted with him,
turned away to look after Harry.
She was almost disposed to con-









plain that her pet was a stupid thing,
not half so good as her brother's.
But, before she had spoken out her
disappointment, Blanche stooped
down from her perch, alighted on
her shoulder, and fed familiarly
from her hand. This pleased her
so much, that she forgot her vexa-
tion and marched in to show her
mother and Fanny how soon the
white dove had made her acquaint-
ance.
The next morning, Mary was up
early, and very attentive to the
wants of her bird. She first cleaned
out the cage with great care, and









gave him fresh seeds and water.
She then went into the garden, and
selected a variety of fresh weeds
and flowers, which she arranged,
with good taste, about the cage, to
make it seem like a little fairy
arbor.
I really think," said her father,
who came in just as it was all fin-
ished, that no bird ever had so
beautiful a cage to live in; and, if
he has any taste, or gratitude, he will
certainly sing you a song, by way of
thanking you for your kindness."
See! how earnestly he looks
outow toward the woods, dear fa-








their. Do you think he would
like to be there among the other
birds ?"
No doubt, my dear Fanny, he
would prefer it as much as you pre-
fer rambling about the fields and the
garden, to being confined in a sick
room."
Then I will let him go, father
I do not wish to keep him shut up
here, if he would be so much hap-
pier in the woods."
No, my dear Mary, if he were
a robin, or any of our common birds,
that would be doing him a true kind-
ness. But this bird could not take









of himself


in our


live through the winter
mate. Besides, he was


woods, or
in our cli-


born in


cage, and has never been out of it,
so that he has never felt the loss of
his liberty; and it will be really
more kind to keep him where he is,
especially if you always attend to
him as well as you have to-day."
Just at that moment, a fine young
robin alighted on the outmost branch


old elm in front


of the door,


and warbled forth his morning lay,


with


such full, mellow,


tones, that the speakers
rily paused to listen.


melodious
involunta


of the









Oh!
such a


if my bird could only sing


song as that !"


exclaimed


Mary.


The
her lips
took no


rords


had scarcely escaped


., when the mocking-bird
the strain, and warbled it


through, mimicking the


robin with


such exact perfection, that his mate


would


have been deceived by it, if


she had been there to hear it.


Mary was


in ecstasies.


clapped


her hands,


ran about


the house, calling every one to come


and hear her pet sing.


From that


time, there was not a bird


in the


neighborhood that could strike up a


She






27


song, or touch a note, but it was in-
stantly echoed from Mary's balco-
ny; and the happy little girl pro-
tested that she had all the songsters
of the grove in one little cage.
Under the kind care of these
happy children, the doves and the
mocking-bird flourished finely; and
the last time I visited the cottage,
Harry had added to his family of
pets a dog, two beautiful, white
rabbits, and a gray squirrel, with a
long bushy tail, while Mary had a
pair of Guinea pigs and a peacock.
Besides these, the yard was well
stocked with hens and ducks, and









or four broods


which


of little chick-


the children


shared


between t]
together to


hem,


always


going


out


feed them every morn-






























Of a


THE SLZIGHRIDZE.-P A


.E---


-h













THE SLEIGHRIDE.


" WHOA,


ponies !-stand


there ;


you will


have enough to


for your little trotters, before


come back.


Stand still,


ties.


Joe Sands was more proud of his


ponies, than even of his


own black


locks and raven whiskers, which he


cultivated
approved


and curled
fashion. H


in the most
re wn now


beau-







THE SLEIGHRIDE


rigged out in the most magnificent
style-his ponies almost covered
with strings of bells, and his beau-
tiful scarlet cutter, richly lined and
cushioned, and provided with a
splendid fox-skin robe, lined with
scarlet and gold plush. His own
person was enveloped in an elegant,
wadded wrapper, with a fine Rus-
sian beaver, from which dangled a
large silken tassel.
His establishment was now drawn
up before the comfortable mansion
of Mr. Morris, and Joe was some-
what impatient for the appearance
of the young ladies, whom he was







THE SLErGHRDE. 33

to have the honor of driving to the
wedding, where he was to act as
chief groomsman. With an occa-
sional crack of the whip, and a sud-
den reining in of the ponies, that
made all the bells jingle again, and
a loud, sharp "4 hoa, there !" he
amused himself as well as he could,
and attracted the admiring regards
of a troop of idle boys, as well as
some of the more grave and genteel
wayfarers.
There, Annt Judy, we must
hurry. Those bells have shaken
half a score of impatient trills, while
you have been adjusting that cap









of yours.
expected


One would


think


to be the belle of


evening, and to secure the first seat


in the bride's chair.


Here we are,


all ready -three handsome, young


exquisites, as we are,


and waiting


in all patience for our sober chape-


rone to finish her prinking.


There,


now, dear aunty, you can't improve
that. You do look so bewitching,


I don't believe Joe Sands will


speak


to me at all."
Fanny-Fanny Morris, what a


chatterbox you are,"


Judy,


as she turned


replied Aunt


away


the looking-glass.


" Did you









think what the tongue was made
for ?"
Do hear those bells again; and
Joe is cracking his whip, as if his
very fingers ached with impatience.
And the ponies are as restiff as


chained eagles.


How they will fly,


when they once get started."


" Dear


Judy,


me !" exclaimed


" I am afraid


Aunt


of those wild


ponies.


I am sure they will upset


us, or run away with us.


" Don't be alarmed,


dear aunty,"


interposed the mischief-loving
san; "I should love dearly t<
run away with once in my life;









an overturn


in a nice,


snow-bank would only give
spice to the frolic."


Aunt Judy


shrugged


her shoul-


ders, put on her last shawl, drew
her boa tightly round her delicate
neck, and, with a gentle Come,


girls, I am ready,"
down stairs.


tripped


Joe was all smiles and


ments.


lightly

compli-


The ladies were soon seat-


ed, Aunt Judy


and Mary on the


back seat, and Fanny and Susan on
the front, with Joe between them.


Crack went the


whip,


away


flew the ponies to the tune of


36









hundred bells.
afternoon. Th
as glass. Thi


It was a splendid
e road was as smooth
3 trees were loaded


with wreaths of snow.


and plains,


The hills,


and valleys, were


alike clothed in a white mantle.
The party was in high spirits;
and even Aunt Judy laid aside her
usual fears, and enjoyed it highly.
Pray, Mr. Sands," she inquired,
"will the party be large, to-night V"


" Not more


than a hundred,


ma'am, I think."
A hundred,


indeed !


Where


will they all come from I
can you do with them "


and what









" They are coming from all the


neighboring towns -from
and Turner, and Concord,


Wilton,
and Bar-


low, and from twenty miles round."
Just at this moment, Frank Wil.


lis, driving


spa


switch-tails, came up


his sleigh full


of girls,


i of black
behind, with
and made an


effort to pass
up his ponies
his blacks.


outright ;


. Joe Sands cracked
. Frank cracked up
Aunt Judy screamed


the girls laughed


shouted, each party cheering


their driver,


and urging him not to


be outdone by the other.


On they


went, skimming


the ground,







THE SLEIGHRIDE. 39

swallows, up the hills and down the
valleys, the ponies keeping the lead;
but the blacks, ever and anon, press-


ing up, and stretching ahead,
they would overreach them.


as if


The two were


thus cr


rov


side by side, near the top of a
tie hill, which overlooked th
lage whither they were ]sound.


vding
gen-
e vil-
All


except Aunt Judy, were in the high-


est glee, shouting,


cheering


laughing,


their horses to their


most speed.


On the


very top


the hill,


they met another sleigh,


driving at an equal pace, in


Joe Sands


the op-
, being


posite


direction.







40 THE SLEIGHRIDE.

on the right side, dashed by, with
a triumphant hurra; while Frank,
though he reined up as short as he
could, was soon entangled with the
stranger. A moment's delay, and
a word of advice from the stranger,
and Frank was pushing on again
with redoubled speed.
The descent was long and irreg-
ular. About halfway down, where
there was a slight curve in the road,
it was traversed by a little brook,
which, being choked with snow and
ice, had overflowed the bridge, and
spread a sheet of ice along the way,
for several yards. A catastrophe









The sleigh slewed


sharply


against the


frozen track,


and capsized, with all its precious


cargo, into
side.


Oh, me!
Aunt Judy,


a deep drift on the road-


I am killed," screamed


"and all


the girls with


me !"
'Twill take the starch out of that
beautiful cap, aunty dear," said the
mischievous Susan, who chanced to
be at the top of the heap.


Whoa, p
Sands, as he


ponies !" screamed Joe


lifted himself up


from


the double


burden


of that


robe, which had well-nigh


under


was inevitable.


fox-skin









smothered him, and Fanny and Su


san, who, being well
had fallen upon it.
nies !"


wrapped in it
" -Whoa, po.


But the


ponies were


half a mile


down the road, with the sleigh


good order behind them;


Willis,
against


and Frank


ing by, vainly endeavoring t
up his blacks for the rescue.


they took a sudden


offence at the


apparition of Joe Sands


from under the


fox-skin


tarting
robe,


and became entirely unmanageable.
They reared and plunged, and then


who had been cautioned
this danger, was just dash-









sprung away,


wind, giving no heed to the 1
to the soothing voice of their


ter.


" Whoa,


ponies !"


shouted


again, trying to brush the mist from
his eyes.


" Dear


aunty,


are you


asked Mary, as soon as she
her feet.


hurt V"
came to


" Not hurt,


but killed,"


groaned


the good lady, shaking
from her shawl.
Oh that immaculate


cap, dear


aunty," said Susan, archly.


" Is this the way to


with the


speed of the


Barlow "









" So


the bewildered


much for your


wild, giddy pranks.


Where are we 1-are you all alive ?"
"Never more so," replied Fan-
ny; "but in no plight for a dance."
Where are the ponies ?" scream-
ed Joe, now just restored to his
senses.


"There they go !"


replied Fanny,


"just dashing round the old church,
yonder."


The distance to the place


dezvous was yet


miles.


of ren-


some four or five


What should they do ?


Aunt


Judy looked wondrous grave and


uneasy; but,


asked


fortunately


for Joe,









she did not speak. Joe had all the
sputtering to himself and he laid it
out freely upon the road, the ponies,
and Frank Willis, who he said was


always in his


way."


Fanny and


Susan enjoyed the accident highly,


and exerted all their


powers of


mirth and wit to turn a seeming


disaster into


a frolic.


When Joe Sands


had quite


covered his self-possession, he en-
tered into the f-olic with a good


grace, and proposed


that the


should seat themselves upon the
buffalo, in a snug little nook by the


road-side, wrapped


ladies


in the fox-skin







THE SLEIGHRIDE.


robe, while he ran on to search for


the runaway ponies.


He also in-


listed upon leaving his own beau-
tifil wrapper, as an additional secu-
rity to Aunt Judy against the cold.
Sands had been gone about an
hour, and the little party in the


were getting exceedingly


merry, when Elder


Stephen,


the shaker village, passed


from


down the


road, driving the great market-sleigh
of the society, on his way to Boston.


Attracted by


a sudden outburst


of laughter


from the girls,


which


he naturally enough mistook for a


Elder Stephen


bushes


drew up by


scream,









the road-side, alighted from his com-
fortable seat, and began to search


for the cause.


The gingling of his


bells had put the noisy girls upon


their guard, and
ceased in a momen


all their mirth
t. Without any


further noise to guide him, the be-
nevolent shaker followed the foot-
tracks, and soon came upon their
retreat.


It was a singular meeting.


Aunt


rose, with dignity,
their accident, and


and explained
Ithe object of


their waiting;


while the


girls found


new cause of mirth in this discovery.


thee take a seat


" Won't









sleigh V"
going tl


said Broadbrim.


way,


enough for all."


" Thank


you, friend,"


replied


Aunt Judy,


" we are expecting Mr.


Sands every moment.


" But, may be


he will


not over-


take his horses as soon as he ex-
pected, or may be the sleigh will be


broken; and I fear


cold here.


thee will


catch


If Friend Joseph should


be coming after thee, we shall meet
him on the way."


Stephen's


arguments


peared


sound and reasonable;


all the ladies were soon seated,


and have


Elder









and covered,


over all, with the fine robes


Sands's


of Mr.


sleigh.


It was a quiet ride


that followed.


Friend


Stephen's


horses were as


fat and sleek as


on with an even pace,


slow one.
to single


himself, and moved


though not a


The very bells seemed


a grave and quiet


music,


and all the party partook of the


same spirit.


Not a word was spo-


ken for the first half hour.
46 What house would thee like to
stop at ?" at length asked Stephen.


"At the Sign


of the Bell,' if you


please," replied Aunt Judy.


wrapped


in blankets,









A few minutes after, they stopped


at the Sign of the Bell."
received the thanks of


with a


Stephen
the party


benevolent smile, and


" Thee is all wel
on his way.
Dear me!" e
she stepped in up
tavern. Where
do believe I must
shaker's sleigh."
At that mome
came up fi-om
which he had
ened horses, in o
down


come,"


and drove


claimed Mary, as
on the floor of the
Sis my slipper? I
have left it in the


nt, Frank Willis


a cross-road,


driven


his fright-


)rder to cool them







tHE SLEIGHRIDE.


Have you seen
cried Fanny.
Is Joe's beautiful


the ponies 1"


cutter safe ?"


asked Susan.


" Where


Aunt Judy.
4" Where


is Mr. Sands ?" inquired


my slipper ?"


Mary-all at the same moment.
Willis had seen nothing of Sands,


or his ponies.


He was not a little


vexed that the old shaker had


prived him
ure of pick


ladies.


of the


ing


honor and pleas-


up the shipwrecked


They were all now thrown


into additional trouble about Joe,


and, gathering around


the cheerful







THE SLEIGHRIDE.


fre, they considered


what should


be done.
Meanwhile, the crest-fallen Sands


had accepted the


proffered aid of a


kind farmer, who, in coming down


the road, on
to arrest the


horseback, attempted
mad flight of the po-


nies; but, in doing


so, only


caused


them to


flare off into


another road,


which


led them back toward home.


Sands mounted on behind the
farmer, and off they went, as fast as


Dobbin
burden.


could go, under his


double


The ponies were at length


brought up at a turnpike-gate, some
seven or eight miles from the place









Here Joe came


up with them; but he was obliged
to pause awhile, to give them breath.


was ready, he drove with


all speed to the scene of


his late


disaster.
To his utter consternation,


ladies were gone.


Where could


they be ?
gone? f


Which


way had


lad they walked


on to the


place of meeting ?
back toward home
sad quandary; but


or had they gone
I Joe was in a
the last question


that came up seemed to turn the


scale of his


doubts.


He concluded


that Aunt Judy was sick with


When all


of their


starting.









exposure, and that they had all gone
on the way home.
Without stopping to consider how


they could


get along with the bur-


den of the buffalo and


he cracked


his whip,


briskly on toward home.


sleigh-robe,
and drove
Poor Joe:


the evening was cold, he had nei-


their wrapper nor buffalo,


and he


was going the wrong way.
The company at the Bell tavern


was increasing.


Several other par-


ties, bound to the same festival


dropped in.


Among them was an


eccentric, humorous,
val officer. of five-an


impulsive na-
d-twenty, who,


- -


- --- ----







THE SLEIGHRIDE. 55I


on his way down, had fallen


in with


Elder Stephen, at the neighboring


village.


The honest shaker, finding


he was to stop at the Sign


of the


Bell," requested him to take charge
of a little shoe, which he had just
found among the blankets in his


sleigh.


" It must belong,"


he said,


" to one of the little women that I


picked up
the Bell."
A real
the young
her, though


on the


way,


and left


Cinderilla !" exclaimed
captain; and I'll find
they hide her under the


most obscure washtub in the coun-
try."









The elder wondered


meant,


but said nothing.


what he
Quietly


resuming his seat, he drove on tow-


ard the


while the enthusiastic


young officer sprang into his sleigh,
and dashed down the road, in eager
anticipation of a new adventure.
When Captain Armstrong arrived
at the Bell, he was ushered into the
common parlor, where a large party


was already assembled,


and pre-


to start for the nuptial fes-
Mary Morris was in a sad


dilemma, since she was to act as


chief bridesmaid,


which


becomingly,


she could
with one


hardly do,









unslippered foot.


with her sisters, that she should


share with


them, by turns, so that,


in presenting herself before the
altar, with the bride, she should be


fully equipped.


She was just


ranging a beautiful Indian moccasin
upon the unfortunate foot, as the
door opened, and the gallant cap-


with


a flushed countenance,


and a profusion


of bows, presented


himself before them, exclaiming,


"Cinderilla !


Cinderilla I where art


thou, beautiful, injured maiden 1"
The whole company were equally
amazed and amused by this singu-


It was arranged







58 THE SLEIGHRIDE.

lar apostrophe. All conversation
ceased in an instant; the half-ad-
justed shawl was left hanging care-
lessly over the arm; the half-tied
hat fell back upon the chair; the
half-turned curl hung in dishevelled
luxuriousness upon the blushing
cheek; and that beautiful moccasin,
scarcely drawn over the delicate
foot of Cinderilla, still left the heel
and ankle exposed. All eyes were
turned upon the captain.
Not at all abashed by being made
the object of so much and such in-
tense curiosity, the bold and self-
possessed cavalier advanced to the









midst
carries
Sery in
call fo
lie crie
der wl


I


of the circle, and
tly at every group,


looking
and ev-


dividual, reiterated his eager


r Cinderilla.


"Come forth !"


" wherever thou art.


latever tub thy


toys have concealed
forth !"


Peering


carefully


round, Mary's


half-dressed


foot, projecting


under the ample folds
lisse, caught his eye.


of her


Sstantly at her foot; and before she
had recovered her self-possession
sufficiently to withdraw the exposed
member, he had seized the mocca-


thee,


d,









and adjusted


lost slipper to its place.


"A fit-a perfect


claimed.
ly-most


fit!" he


" Cinderilla most love-


fortunate all


the fairies


befriend thee, and-"
A general burst of laughter from
the whole company, followed by a
I furious blast of the tavern-horn, as
Sa signal that it was time to be


moving,
captain


interrupted
in his rhapso


the blushing


Mary at 1


the gallant
dy, and left
iberty to fin-


ish her preparations for the fete.
The nuptial party was large, yet


The bride was beau-


vry select.


sin, pulled it


i







THE SLEIGHRrDE. 61

tiful; the bridegroom was splendid;
the house was brilliantly illumina-


ted; and all things were ready.
But where was Joe Sands, the chief
groomsman ?
The minister had come, the bride-


groom had taken the


to lead he
Armstrong,


bride's


r forward; and C:


appointment,


about to supply Joe's


ceremony,


place


with Mary Morri


hand
captain
, was
n the
a, the


Cinderilla of the evening,


leaning


on his arm, when the door flew


open, and Sands, the


Sands,


veritable


sprang in.


It was a sad disappointment to


I







THE SLEIGHRIDE.


the captain; but
to contend. He
ed the blushing


he was too polite
accordingly yield-
Mary to his rival.


and the ceremony went on.
When the knot was tied,


while the good minisi


ing the


bride w


kiss, Joe began to inq
by what means they


village.


The story of


the good old shaker d


lost slipper,


afforded


to all the company,
derilla the belle of th


ter was greet-
ith a paternal
quire of Mary
reached the
f the overturn,
eacon, and the
no little mirth
and made Cin-
e evening.


But Judge Weston, a kind-heart-
ed, fine-looking widower, from Bar-







THE SLEIGHRIDE. 63


low, to the utter neglect of the young
girls, was taken with such a sympa-


thy for the quiet Aunt Judy,


moved


with


theet with


and so


fear that she should


a similar accident on the


way home, that he insisted upon
taking her into his own carriage;


" for I have a very careful


said he,


driver,"


"and I will see you safely


landed at your own door."
Aunt Judy accepted the offer.
The evening was unusuallybrilliant.
The ride was agreeable to all par-


ties. Sands


Willis raced back


without accident or adventure. Cap-


tain Armstrong looked


after them,









obliged to go the other way.


What passed in the judge's carriage
was shrewdly conjectured, but never


fully known.


Before the snow was


gone, the worthy man had


that way often,


passed


and never without


calling at Mr. Morris's; and ere the
spring had put forth her blossoms,
our beloved aunt had changed her
name to Weston, and gone down to
Barlow, to clear away from the
judge's house the frostwork of a


five years'


widowhood, by shedding


over it again the sunshine of home.


but was




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