NEW OCCUPATIONS.
When going down stairs the next morning I was surprised, the hour was
so early, at finding my uncle and aunt, with their two farm servants,
already seated at the breakfast table. I must confess that these two
farm servants seemed to me strangely out of place, sitting thus
familiarly at the same table with their master and mistress. My uncle
introduced them to me, by the names of Mr. Barnes and Mr. Hawkins, their
Christian names being Solomon and Obadiah, and by those names they were
mostly called in my uncle's family. Solomon, was a good humored looking
man of some thirty years of age; he had, I afterwards learned, been for
some years in my uncle's employ. Obadiah was a youth of about seventeen
years of age. His extreme bashfulness in the presence of strangers in
general, and of ladies in particular, caused him to appear very awkward.
Added to this, he was, to use a common term, very homely in his personal
appearance. His hair was very light, almost white; his eyes too were of
a very light color, and uncommonly large and prominent. He was also
freckled, and very much sunburned. He seemed very much over-grown, and
his general appearance suggested the idea that he must be in his own
way--a position of which he seemed painfully conscious. He had a most
unpleasant habit of keeping his eyes constantly in motion. As I was
seated directly opposite to him at the breakfast table, I found it very
difficult to restrain my inclination to laughter, for I could not raise
my eyes without encountering one of those furtive glances. The idea
occurred to me that he was meditating on some means of escape from the
table, and it was with much difficulty that I maintained a becoming
gravity. I was very glad, however, when my uncle made some remark which
provoked a general laugh; but I am ashamed to acknowledge that I looked
to see what effect a smile would have upon the countenance of Obadiah;
but my curiosity, however, was not to be gratified, for, judging by his
appearance, his thoughts were of too serious a nature to admit laughter.
I was glad when breakfast was over, and I am certain that Obadiah was
more than glad.
My aunt, like most of the farmers' wives in the vicinity, had no
assistance in performing her household work, except in very busy
seasons. I begged of her to allow me to assist her, although I feared
that I should appear very awkward in the performance of duties to which
I was so little accustomed. My aunt at first refused, saying I was not
accustomed to kitchen-work. But when I begged to be allowed to try my
hand in assisting her, she brought me one of her large, checked aprons,
which she advised me to put on. Thus attired, I washed and wiped the
breakfast dishes, and arranged them in her spotless cupboard, saying to
her that, while I remained an inmate of her house, she must allow me to
assist her to the best of my ability, adding that I should be much
happier if allowed to assist in her labors, than otherwise. Seeing me so
anxious, my aunt allowed me to take my own way in the matter. I
succeeded much better than I had feared; and when the morning's work was
finished, my aunt laughingly said that, with a little practice, she
thought I should make a very useful kitchen-maid.
In the afternoon she invited me to accompany her to the room which had
been her daughter's. The room was tastefully, though not richly
furnished.
"This," said my aunt, "was Caroline's room from her childhood. I have
never allowed anything to be disturbed in the room since her death,
except that I occasionally air and dust it. I suppose I am somewhat
childish and fanciful; but it would pain me to see this room occupied by
another."
Over the mantel-piece--for almost every room in my uncle's house
contained a fire-place--there hung a picture of my cousin Caroline,
taken six months previous to her death. I drew nigh to look at the
picture. One glance told me that she had indeed been a beautiful child.
The picture was enclosed in a beautiful frame of leather-work, which had
been the work of her own hands. I gazed long upon the fair picture,
fondly hoping that the loss her friends had sustained, by her death, was
her eternal gain, by being thus early removed from a world of sin and
sorrow to her home in Heaven. Opening a drawer in a small bureau, my
aunt told me to look at her school-books.
By examining the books I was convinced that she must have been a child
of no ordinary capacity, for her age. I also examined some of her
apparel, with many other articles, which had been presents to her from
friends.
Seeing the tears, which I found impossible to repress, my aunt became so
much affected that I made some pretext for hastening our departure from
the room; and, when we went down stairs, I endeavored to turn our
conversation to some cheerful subject, to divert her mind from her
sorrow, which had been vividly recalled by our visit to that lonely
room.
The view which my uncle's residence afforded of the surrounding country
was very pleasing to the beholder. Whatever way the eye turned, it
rested upon well-cultivated farms, on which were erected comfortable
and, in many instances, handsome and commodious dwellings.
In the distance, the summits of the White Mountains were distinctly
visible, they being about twenty miles distant from my uncle's
residence.
Mr. and Mrs. Egmont, according to promise, paid us a visit before
leaving Littleton. My uncle and aunt were much pleased by their friendly
and social manner; and, when they took their leave, we parted from them
with sincere regret. They left Littleton soon after, on their homeward
journey.
Three weeks had now passed since my arrival at my uncle's home, and I
found myself daily becoming more and more attached to my kind uncle and
aunt. Obadiah appeared to feel much more at his ease in my presence than
at the first. When I learned that he was an orphan-boy and had no home,
I felt a deep sympathy for him; but still, when I encountered one of
those glances, I often found it very difficult to avoid laughter. I
learned from my aunt that he, being left an orphan, had been put to work
at a very early age; and, consequently, had had but few advantages for
study and improvement. He could read tolerably, and write a little. My
aunt was of the opinion that notwithstanding his peculiarities, he was
possessed of good common sense, and would make good progress in study if
he had any one to render him the necessary assistance. I at once offered
to assist him in his studies, and proposed to him that he should spend a
portion of the long evenings in study. He seemed at the first to be
somewhat startled by my proposition; but, seeing that I was in earnest,
gladly consented, and forthwith commenced his studies. My aunt cautioned
me about laughing, if he should chance to make comical blunders; and it
was well that she did so, for some of his blunders were laughable in the
extreme; but "forewarned is forearmed." After a time I learned that he
really possessed an intellect of no mean order. He soon made rapid
progress in study. He seemed fully to appreciate the pains I took in
teaching him, and endeavored, by many little acts of kindness, to show
his gratitude to me.
Soon after my arrival, my aunt, one day, said to me,--
"I hope you will feel happy with us; for I wish you to consider our
house as your home for the future. You know not," she continued, "how
glad I am of your company, and how your presence cheers us; we will
gladly adopt you as our daughter, if you can be happy with us."
I thanked her with tears in my eyes, and added that I was very happy in
receiving so warm a welcome to their home, and would gladly do my utmost
to fill a daughter's place to them. I further informed my aunt that I
should be very happy to consider her house as my home, but that I should
prefer teaching, as soon as I could find a desirable situation, as such
had been my intention when I left Philadelphia. But when I mentioned the
subject to my uncle, he seemed much hurt that I should think of such a
thing. I told him that the wish to teach did not proceed from any
feeling of discontent in my home, but that I thought it wrong to remain
idle, while possessing an education which qualified me for usefulness.
He replied that if I felt anxious to teach, we would talk about it the
following spring; but, said he, you must think no more about it for this
winter, at any rate; and so the subject was suffered to drop.
We led a very quiet life at my uncle's that winter. We saw but little
company, except that occasionally the wife of some neighboring farmer
would drop in to take a social cup of tea with my aunt.
There was a maiden lady residing in the village of Littleton who was
always a welcome visitor at my uncle's residence,--her name was Miss
Priscilla Simmonds. She was somewhat advanced in years, and of a very
mild and prepossessing appearance. Upon the death of her parents, which
took place many years before, she was left the owner and sole tenant of
the house in which she lived. She lived entirely alone, and was
considered a very valuable person in the village. She seemed, upon all
occasions, to adapt herself readily to surrounding circumstances. At
merrymakings, no one was so lively or social as Miss Simmonds: in the
chamber of sickness, no hand so gentle and no step so light as hers; and
when death visited a household, her services were indispensible.
Although occupying a humble position in life, she was very much
respected by all who knew her. Very few there were in the vicinity but
could recall some act of kindness from Miss Simmonds, rendered either to
themselves or their friends; and many there were who could remember the
time when her hands had prepared the form of some loved relative for its
last resting-place in the grave. Thus was Miss Simmonds bound to the
hearts of the people of Littleton, as by a strong cord. In person she
was tall; she had fine dark eyes, and her hair was lightly sprinkled
with grey. From the expression which her countenance wore at times, I
gathered the idea that she had, at some period of her life, experienced
some deep sorrow. I one day enquired of my aunt if such were not the
case. She gave me an evasive reply, and, perceiving that she wished to
avoid the subject, I made no further enquiries.
I trust the reader will pardon this digression from my story.
In the course of the winter my uncle gave a party, to afford me an
opportunity of becoming acquainted with the young people of the place.
If the party lacked some of the forms and ceremonies practised in the
city drawing-rooms upon like occasions, it certainly was not wanting in
real enjoyment.