| | 1 | Author: | Sedgwick
Catharine Maria
1789-1867 | Add | | | Title: | Tales of City Life  | | | | Published: | 1997 | | | | Subjects: | University of Virginia Library, Modern English collection | UVA-LIB-Text | University of Virginia Library, Early American Fiction, 1789-1875 | UVA-LIB-EarlyAmFict1789-1875 | | | | Description: | It is about the middle of November—
a bright, soft day, when the genial spirit
of the year looks back with one of his
farewell smiles. His warm breath has
spread a silver haze over the rugged hill
sides. The mountain tops are shining
—the dried leaves bitten off by the frost,
turn round and round, and drop without
a sound. A rather narrow, brisk stream
runs rapidly, descending as it goes, till
it reaches the rear of a one story house,
where, being set back by a dam below,
it seems like a plate of burnished steel
from which a soft vapor is rising. Around
its edges is a thin coating of ice, indicating
the cold of the preceding night. The
house stands on the declivity of a hill
that slopes gradually from the road, (a
hundred yards from it,) with one end to
the river, the other to the road, and fronting
south. Behind it is a little garden
patch, which, in its winter adversity,
shows signs of being cared for and loved;
some plants being carefully tied up, and
a few covered with old boxes and barrels.
There are some other signs of refinement,
not too common about the humble dwellings
of our country parts; vines trained
about the low door, and rose bushes so
nicely fitted around the old windows, that
they seem to have come to stay there of
their own accord. Neatness, that good
angel of an humble home, keeping all
right with her ever-rustling wings, hover
round this pretty dwelling. A small
woodpile is laid up as if by mathematical
rule. No litter of any kind is any where
to be seen, and one wonders what the
splendid cock, with his pedestrian harem,
can find to make them pick so busily
around the sunny doorway. “Dear mother, and father,—Don't feel
too bad. I shall be on my way to New
York when you get this. Miss Emma
Gardner has lent me ten dollars, and
what clothes I shall want. Father can't
go; and you can't leave father, mother;
and I—I can't stay. Father, you will
keep up mother's spirits, won't you? I
know it will all come right. “Dear father, and mother, and Ruth,—
I have got into some trouble. I ask of
you all not to feel anxious or distressed.
I expect (expect was erased, and hope substituted,)
“to get out well, but if I don't,
I shall still keep `right side up,' as father
would say. Now be calm, mother, dear.
Just before we locked up last night, I
observed a stranger come into the shop;
the doors were closed, and all the clerks
called into the middle of the shop, away
from the counters. Otis Jackson was
standing close to me at the time we were
spoken to. I heard him mutter, `d—n
it,' but I had not the least thought of
what was coming. Mr. Brown stood one
side of the stranger, Mr. Wilson the other.
Mr. Brown spoke: `We have been missing,'
says he, `fine goods for the last
month; a shawl was taken last week;
two yards of costly lace, and one of the
five dollar pocket handkerchiefs are gone
to-day. We have a police man here, and
you must all be searched. One of you
must be guilty. I am sorry for the innocent,
but no disgrace will rest upon
them — do your duty, Rushton.' The
policeman began the search. Some of
our young men laughed and joked; I
could not, I was afraid it would prove to
be Otis. He was the fourth searched,
nothing was found on him. My turn
came next; the things were found in my
coat pocket, atop of my handkerchief
and every thing, just as if they had been
put there. How the truth is to be found
out, I don't know, but I feel as if it would.
All I ask is, that father will keep up
mother's spirits, and dear Ruth, only
think how you would all feel if I had
taken the things. I shall write daily, so
don't be anxious. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
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