[Illustration]
OUR VILLAGE
IN
WAR-TIME.
BY THE AUTHOR OF
ALLAN CAMERON, ILVERTON RECTORY,
ETC.
[Illustration]
PUBLISHED BY THE
AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY,
150 NASSAU-STREET, NEW YORK.
The incidents in the following narrative are real, and have actually
occurred in the present struggle for our national life, though not
precisely in the order here indicated. Liberty has been taken in
locating and arranging them, and names and places are assumed.
ENTERED according to Act of Congress, in the year 1864, by the
AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY, in the Clerk’s Office of the District Court
of the United States for the Southern District of New York.
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER I.
The Beach Hill neighborhood 5
CHAPTER II.
The Soldiers’ Aid Society 17
CHAPTER III.
The departure of the regiment 35
CHAPTER IV.
The drummer-boy of the Twenty-sixth 50
CHAPTER V.
How the boys came home 80
CHAPTER VI.
Lights and shadows 102
OUR VILLAGE IN WAR-TIME.
CHAPTER I.
THE BEACH HILL NEIGHBORHOOD.
“Would you believe it, Mrs. Glenn, the Tyrrell House is sold, and a
family is going to move into it right away? The painters and carpenters
have been there for a week. I didn’t know the house, it looked so
lively. It seems too bad to have that place shut up from the public,
for we all enjoyed it so much; but I suppose the owner had the best
right to it, after all. I haven’t found out who the family are, but I
shall hear all about it to-morrow, and then I will let you know; for
Aunt Prudence is going there to clean the rooms, and get them ready
for the furniture.”
As Miss Letty paused to take breath, I expressed my interest in the
news, which, to confess the truth, had affected me rather unpleasantly.
The Tyrrell House was the “show-place” of Beach Hill, a rambling,
aristocratic mansion, built by a wealthy Englishman, who, after a
series of domestic troubles, shut up the house in disgust, and left the
country. It was his wish that no one should reside there; consequently
the house was out of repair, and the extensive grounds, laid out
originally by a landscape gardener, were overrun with weeds. Still it
was a lovely spot, and the dwellers on the hill held annual picnics
there, and lovers strolled through its shaded walks by moonlight, and
altogether we had come to look upon it as public property, held for our
special benefit. Great was our astonishment, therefore, when we heard
that the house had been purchased, and was fitting up for a family,
who were to take immediate possession. It was felt by us almost as a
personal loss; and woe to the new-comers, should they fail to atone by
the charms of their society for the deprivation we were to suffer.
Not that we were an inhospitable or quarrelsome set of people. On
the contrary, we prided ourselves on the possession of the opposite
qualities. If there were in the town of Woodbury a model neighborhood,
we believed it to be located on Beach Hill. Ours was a very select
society, reckoning among its members the clergyman, lawyer, doctor, and
editor of the town, and a number of gentlemen of wealth and leisure,
as well as some who led the dubious sort of existence called “living
by one’s wits.” We assumed, however, no airs of superiority over
our townsmen, but were content to manifest our self-complacency by a
quietly patronizing manner whenever we met them. In such a community
as this, it may be supposed the arrival of a new family was quite an
event, particularly as they were about to occupy the best house in the
town.
The next day I was very busy at home, and had forgotten the coming
event, when just at evening Miss Letty made her appearance, every
line of her face instinct with news which her tongue was eager to
communicate.
Miss Letty Brown was the dressmaker _par excellence_ of the town of
Woodbury; and though we of the Hill had tried hard to appropriate her,
it was found an impossibility, so we were fain to share her services
with the inhabitants of the village. She was a cheerful, active little
woman, of an uncertain age, with a fresh, breezy atmosphere always
about her, which stirred one very pleasantly--a little given to gossip,
yet no scandal-monger, but a sincere, earnest Christian, loving God and
her fellow-men, and looking persistently on the bright side of every
thing. No matter how dark the day, Miss Letty firmly believed in the
sunshine behind the clouds, and waited for it to break through. Her
services were in constant requisition on every occasion; and as she was
brimming over with what the Yankees call “faculty,” nothing that skill
and ingenuity could accomplish came amiss to her.
Hardly was the neat white sun-bonnet laid aside, when she exclaimed,
“Well, it’s really wonderful how things do come about in this world.
There’s old Mr. Tyrrell thought he’d cut off his daughter with a
shilling, and now her grandson has come into possession of the house
and land.”
“How is that?” I asked; “is this new family connected with the
Tyrrells?”
“Oh yes; Aunt Prudence has told me all about it. Mr. Fenton, the
gentleman who has bought the property, is the grandson of Emily Tyrrell
that was, and he has lived in Alabama a great many years. It seems he
is a strong Union man; and when this rebellion broke out, he got into
trouble, and has been all this time trying to get away; and now the
family have come, but he stays behind to try and save some more of his
money. Mrs. Fenton is very sick, and has been for a great while; but
there is a grown-up daughter and another young lady, a niece, who is
said to be an heiress, and a son, who I rather think is in the rebel
army, though there isn’t much said about it.”
“Are the family coming immediately?” I inquired, for Miss Letty’s
account had awakened my interest in these refugees from rebel tyranny.
“They are expected every day, but I’m sure the house is any thing but
ready for them. When I heard about the poor sick lady, I felt like
taking right hold and putting things to rights; but it would not have
been taken kindly by Aunt Prudence, so I held my tongue. Mrs. Ryder and
Mabel were there, seeing to the furniture and pictures, for it seems
that when Mr. Ryder went south for his health, three years ago, he got
acquainted with this family, and that is the way they found out that
the house was for sale and got it. There was quite a company of Beach
Hill people there, and among the rest Robert Lester, the fine-looking
young lawyer. I don’t often take a fancy to young men--you needn’t
smile, Nellie--but I do like that young man wonderfully. There’s
something so noble about him; and yet he’s as gentle as a woman.”
I assented cordially to Miss Letty’s praise of the young lawyer, for
he had been a favorite of mine from his first appearance in our town.
He was alone in the world, having no relatives but one sister, who
was at a boarding-school at some distance from Woodbury. His legal
knowledge and splendid powers as a speaker made him a marked man in
the community, and he was rising rapidly in his profession, while his
private character, so pure and manly, won the esteem and friendship of
all.
Unlike too many young men, Mr. Lester had not been ashamed to avow
himself a Christian by a public profession of his faith in Jesus; and
young as he was, Mr. Ryder had found him an efficient helper in every
good word and work, while even infidels and scoffers were compelled to
admire his consistency and firmness of principle.
When the war broke out, and with thousands of others the young men of
our village sprang to arms, we expected Robert Lester would be one of
the first to go, for all knew his patriotic devotion to the cause of
liberty; but to our surprise he did not enlist, though he looked sad
enough when the first company marched away, carrying with them our best
wishes and prayers for their success. He was not a man whom one would
like to question about his reasons for any course of conduct, so we
waited to hear what he would say, but he said nothing.
The second company went, and still no word from him, though his efforts
to promote the good cause were laborious and incessant. There was some
mystery about it, for when urged to accept the command of a company,
he replied hastily,
“Do not ask it. I would give ten of the best years of my life to be
able to say yes, but I cannot go. I can help to send others, however,
and that I am doing with all my heart.”
In fact his purse was always open, and as his fortune was large, the
streams of his benevolence flowed in various channels, making glad many
a heart which the war had made desolate.
Mr. Ryder our excellent minister, Dr. Goodhue our physician, and Mr.
Reed, a thin, pale young man, who edited the Woodbury Chronicle, were
all of opinion that Mr. Lester had good reasons for staying at home,
and the rest of us were satisfied to adopt their belief, though we felt
that he had lost a glorious opportunity of becoming a hero.
Before leaving, Miss Letty informed me in confidence that the new
family were to be invited to the meeting of the Soldiers’ Aid Society
at Mrs. Atlee’s, and that then we should know whether they sympathized
with the government, or were at heart secessionists.
“Not that I think there’s any doubt about it,” she said; “for if they
had liked the rebellion, they could have staid there, you know. But
it’s always best to have things clear, and it’s hard to satisfy some
people.”
This was a fact which could not be denied, even in our neighborhood,
and I contented myself with inquiring if any one besides Mr. Ryder had
seen the Fentons.
“I don’t know, but I had my thoughts about it, when I saw Mr. Lester
looking so sharp at the portraits of the family which are hung up.
There was one of a young girl, the prettiest thing I ever set eyes on;
it was so beautiful it spoilt all the rest. Her eyes were just like
stars, and such lovely curls of brown hair falling over her white neck
and shoulders; but the sweet look on her face was better than all.
I’m sure I should love that girl, and I guess Mr. Lester thought so
too, from the way he kept going back to it again and again, as if he
couldn’t get away, looking all the while so melancholy. One thing I’m
sure of,” added Miss Letty as she rose to go; “that young man hasn’t
got any thing to be ashamed of; for if ever there was an honest and
brave soul looking out through a face, his is the one, and I’d trust
him with the last cent I had in the world.”
With this emphatic declaration Miss Letty took her leave, and the last
I saw of the white sun-bonnet, it was disappearing among the shrubbery
at the parsonage.