 | Life and sayings of Mrs. Partington and others
of the family |  |
LIFE ON THE ROAD.
One summer, during the very hot weather, our Ellen,
whose life could number seventeen happy summers, and
nearly the same number of winters, took it into her
little roguish head that she would like to go to Hampton
Beach. And when such a whim had once got into her
head, the question might well be asked how could it be
got out. It would be hopeless to attempt it, provided
any one were so inclined; but no one said a word, and
Ellen did go. She and her little friend Charlotte, who
was on a visit to Ellen, started for the Beach, with
lots of precautions and dough-nuts from Ellen's mother,
for there is not a better soul between here and Great
Hill than that same mother of Ellen's.
The horse and the wagon, bearing its charming freight
of two pretty girls, moved swiftly and safely over the
road to the Beach, and many a musical echo reverberated
through the woods, and along the meadows, and by the
hill-sides, and from the hill-tops, as they passed along.
The day was very pleasantly spent by the sea-shore,
and when wearied with rambling over the fine, smooth
beach, and sporting in the breakers like naiads, they
started on their return home, with hearts as light and
eyes as bright as when they set out in the morning.
Their horse was a spirited animal, which could ill
brook a whip, and was also emulative to a great degree
in competing with other horses for mastery on the road.
In fact, he would allow no horse to go by him, and made
by principle — to go by all on the road. They had
got perhaps half way home, when they overtook an
oldish sort of a man who was driving a fast horse.
“Billy,” Ellen's horse, stuck up his ears, and “put
her,” with an evident determination of going by. The
old 'un stirred his beast up to the strife, and away they
went over the road as swift as the swallows — neither
having the advantage. Ellen laughed at the sport, and
held the ribbons with the tact of a veteran Jehu. The
contest was soon decided, for the old chap raised his
whip and slightly touched “Billy” with the lash.
Billy impetuously kicked at the insult, but darted
like lightning along the road, distancing his competitor
in a twinkling. The old man was seen no more by the
victors; but over the road they still flew, Billy heeding
neither rein nor word. The remembrance of the insult
put him to his speed, and he dashed along with terrific
velocity.
Men rushed out, and threw up their hands, and cried
“Whoa!”
Women screamed, and prophesied woe to them.
Dogs barked as they skimmed along.
But no fear was felt by our Ellen in her peril. Her
pulse was quick with the excitement, but no fear mingled
with it. Her cheek was red as the rose, and her eyes
laughed, as her ringing voice told the people to get out
of the way. She wound the ribbons round her hands,
and to keep the middle of the road was her only care.
Bravo! Ellen — bravo! and the brave heart and
strong arm gave her the victory. A two-mile heat, the
fame.
This is n't much of a story, but it shows what a true
woman can do and should do in an emergency. It will
not do for Ellen's husband to treat her badly, we can tell
him, when he gets her. His bones would n't be entirely
safe.
| Life and sayings of Mrs. Partington and others
of the family | |