Six years in the early part of our life makes a mighty change in our
personal appearance, the current of our feelings, and our course in
life. Childhood and youth are ever anticipating the fancied joys of
twenty-one, but that blissful period once past, and the goal reached,
how much of innocent and heartfelt happiness is left behind! But time
must on, and we must on with him, and meet each era of our being as best
we may.
Six years have made a vast change in the face of things within our
village. The little store, which Jim and Ned started in the wood-shed of
their mother's house, has been transferred to a large and commodious
building situated near the water, and contiguous to a wharf, where are
snug moorings for the good sloop Fanny, now under the command of Sam
Oakum. Along the shore, where the few fishermen's huts alone gave signs
of life in former days, are now decent dwellings. Docks and building:
the frames of vessels of various size are lying in their cradles; and
the noise of the lively hammer can be heard through the long summer day.
Young men, the former companions of our boys, are now engaged at their
trades, or preparing to man the different vessels when ready for a
voyage. Above the beach, and in the town more properly, as great a
change is manifest; old houses are neatly repaired, and new lines of
fences supply the places of the old, tattered inclosures; while here and
there, on sites commanding the finest views of the beautiful water
scenery, are mansions that bespeak the wealth and taste of their owners;
and, to crown all, a neat church sends up its lofty spire from a knoll
near the water's edge, the last object that holds the eye of the mariner
as he leaves this his native home to breast the stormy ocean, and the
first to bless it on his return, and bid him think of Him whose wonders
he has seen on the deep.
All these results have not been accomplished alone by those whose
youthful energies gave the first spring to life and activity in the
place.
Things had, indeed, gone prosperously with them. Their trade, although
small at first, rapidly increased; the opportunity they afforded the
inhabitants to dispose of their productions advantageously, soon
stimulated to increased cultivation. A display of goods from the city
introduced a better and neater style of dress, and that led to more
neatness in their dwellings, and every thing around them. The timber
from the barrens became an article of great demand; and those
comparatively valueless wilds bade fair to yield an immense revenue to
their owners.
But in addition to all this, a few wealthy families from other parts,
attracted by the pleasantness of the location, had come among them; and
with these was the early patron of our boys--Major Morris and his lovely
family. He had not retired from the service; for the sound of war was
rumbling in the distance, and dark clouds were fast rising on our
political horizon, and it was no time for a brave and good man to
withdraw from his country's need. But he was tired of the unsettled
manner of life to which he had been so long subjected, and resolved, so
soon as a favorable opportunity should offer, to retire, and enjoy the
sweets of home and domestic life. He had long admired the location, but
perhaps might not have decided to make it his place of residence, but
for an old friend of his--one whose life had been spent upon the ocean,
and who could no more be easy without the sight and smell of salt-water
than the fish who sport upon its sunny bosom--Commodore Trysail, a
bluff, high-tempered, warm-hearted sailor. He had won high honors early
in life, but for some cause, in an hour of excitement, had thrown up his
commission. He had amassed a handsome fortune since then by engaging in
the East India trade; and although never condescending to command even
his own ship, he had made several voyages to Bengal, attending solely to
business matters. He had now some fine vessels of his own, and having
relinquished all idea of going abroad, had resolved to locate where he
could enjoy what he had so long been accustomed to, without storms and
billows. Having visited the place, in company with Major Morris, he was
at once charmed, and they both decided to make it their home, and do
what they could to build up things around them. No wonder, then, if six
years has affected such an entire change in the aspect of things.
Mr. Grizzle was yet alive, and kept his old place, but his stock of
goods had not been replenished for some years. The advantage of the new
store were too many for him to compete with. Goods new and cheap, a
generous price for all country produce, respectability of character,
good manners, and perfect fairness in dealing, all these made the odds
too much for Mr. Grizzle to contend against. He gave it up. One corner
of his counter yet received a few visitors; for through the day could be
frequently seen some old tottering wreck of humanity, with bald head,
and long thin locks, stirring eagerly the ancient toddy-stick in a large
flowered tumbler, and then, with trembling hand, raising the much-loved
mixture to his longing lips, already quivering with age, and soon to be
at rest in the grasp of death.
There had been, for some time past, a little mystery about a
newly-erected house--and mysteries in small towns are always troublesome
things. It was a neat and pleasant cottage, finished with much taste,
and with every convenience for a small family. It had been placed on a
very pretty location, not far from the hut where Sam Oakum and his
parents lived, just on the rising ground which overlooked their humble
place of abode, and commanded a full view of the whole panorama of bay
and land and ocean, that stretched before the eye to the distant
horizon. The question could not be solved all the while it was building,
for whom this pleasant habitation was intended. Curiosity was on tiptoe;
it formed the subject for many a long gossip over cup of tea, and so
awakened the imagination of our good ladies, that all sorts of stories
were circulated in reference to it.
'Can any body tell me?' said Aunt Sally Bloodgood--as she sat pouring
out tea to a select party of her own, with a tea-pot in one hand and a
water-pot in the other, dressed in her new calico gown of the freshest
pattern, and no more looking like Aunt Sally when we first saw her, than
nothing at all. Casting her eye round, as she put the two pots down,
upon the inquisitive countenances of her neighbors--'Can any body tell
me whose that house is a building _for_?' and after looking round from
one to the other, her eye finally settled upon her good friend Mrs.
Cutter, as though she expected, if any body knew, she must.
'You needn't look at me, Sally; I knows nothing about it,' leaning her
long body over the table, and shaking her thin visage very
significantly. 'Cutter, you know, don't go about much, and when he does
hear any thing, he keeps it all to himself; a body has to ding their
life out to get any thing out of him. We have fixed our old house, so
that it is kind of snug like, so it ain't for us, no how; and who is
a-goin' there, the massy only knows.'
'They say,' said a very comfortable-looking personage, with very round
cheeks, and ample proportions--'they say, Mrs. Andrews, that your
William is a-building that 'are place for himself; and that he's a
coming back and goin' to be married to Hettie Brown, and they are to
live there.'
'Now did I _ever_!' and the Widow Andrews turned up her eyes towards the
ceiling--a common way with her--put her two hands together, and rested
them on the tea-table. 'I don't see what people mean; I ain't heered no
sich thing--have you, Mary?' appealing to her daughter, who sat beside
her, and began to move about in her chair, and to smooth down the very
stiff collar that encircled her neck. 'I don't see what people talk so
for; I believe they do a-purpose;' and the widow began to slide up on
her high notes, which at once aroused the energies of her daughter Mary.
'Oh, _do_ Mother! don't mind if they do talk; it don't hurt any body; it
don't make it so, you know;--does it, Mrs. Bloodgood?'
'Do la, no; and if it did, where's the harm?'
'Well,' said the fat lady, 'I guess you will all see: for every body
knows the two young folks is dead in love, and they say he's made a
power of money; only some say he won't have Hettie after all, jist
because she's been out to service.'
Mrs. Bloodgood now saw that the harmony of her party was like to be
destroyed, for the Widow Andrews was beginning to fan herself, and
breathe short; so like a skilful commander, she brought all her forces
to bear, in order to turn the attitude of affairs.
'Now, Aunt Peggy!' addressing the fat woman, 'do, la--I wouldn't talk
so. Folks say a great many things they don't know any thing about.
'William is a brave boy; and if he's got ahead in the world, I'm glad on
it; but who he will marry, or when he will marry, I guess there ain't
any body that knows. Don't you say so, Mrs. Andrews? But, do, la! Here
I've been a talking, and your tea is clean out; let me give you another
cup; and, Aunt Peggy, won't you hand round that plate of cake? and won't
you all help yourselves? and them baked pears, they are fresh and nice;
I did them up this very morning--but may be some of you would like the
preserves? Sally Cutter, you just hand the Widow Andrews that saucer of
preserves.'
The tea, and the cake, and the preserves, now demanded general and
particular notice; and between eating and drinking, and praising the
good things, and asking for receipts, a very delightful state of
confusion and loud talking about all manner of things, showed how
successful was Aunt Sally's effort to maintain the peace.
Nor was Aunt Sally Bloodgood's the only tea-circle that was disturbed by
this unaccountable affair. It was a great marvel, and the poor builder
actually lost the good-will of more than one of the tea-drinking old
ladies; but he did not seem to mind it, for he went on in a quiet way to
finish the thing. And when he had done that, he locked the door, put the
key in his pocket, shut the little gate, and went to work at another
job.