OUR VILLAGE IN WAR-TIME.

BY THE AUTHOR OF ALLAN CAMERON, ILVERTON RECTORY, ETC.

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.

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[6] 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.[7] 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[8] 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[9] 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[10] 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.”

[11]“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,[12] 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[13] 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[14] 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[15] 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[16] 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.

CHAPTER II. THE SOLDIERS’ AID SOCIETY.

The new-comers were at length settled in their pleasant home. The neighbors had all called, and were received with a courtesy and kindness which won golden opinions from every one.

Mrs. Fenton was a confirmed invalid, never leaving her apartment; but the peace of God, which like a river flowed through her soul, filled the room with sunshine. In early life she had been a proud, ambitious woman, valuing wealth and social distinction above all things else, and anxious only that her children should shine in the circles of fashion to which she belonged. But in the midst of her career the hand of God was laid upon her, and in the solitude of a sick-room she was[18] forced to think. Through the prayers and efforts of a faithful Christian friend she was brought to look to Jesus for pardoning and healing mercy, and after a season of deep mental anguish, during which all the waves and billows of divine wrath seemed rolling over her, she found refuge at last at the foot of the cross, and was enabled to say from the heart, “I know in whom I have believed.”

For ten years since that hour she had been confined to her couch with a hopeless disease, often racked with intense agony, yet always the same patient, uncomplaining sufferer, always calm and happy, with a heart full of love and pity for every form of human sorrow. By her household she was looked upon as a guardian spirit, rather than a helpless dependent. Every disputed question was referred to her decision, and whatever storms invaded the domestic circle,[19] “mother’s room” was always a place of refuge, which seemed to her children the dearest spot on earth.

Elinor Fenton the daughter was a delicate, graceful girl, inheriting her mother’s gentleness and refinement, but with the shadow of a deep sorrow always visible on her sweet face. That there was a son we knew, but nothing was ever said of him, and we could easily believe that his desertion of the Union cause, the uncertainty of her father’s fate, and the illness of her mother, must exert a depressing influence on one so young, even before we heard the saddest part of her story. The wealth of her affections had been bestowed on one who seemed fully worthy of them, but when the day of trial came he was found wanting. He was one of the first to enter the rebel army, and his influence over young Fenton had led the latter to adopt the same course.[20] Thus doubly bereft of lover and brother, the young girl devoted herself to her suffering mother; but her heart was open as the day “to melting charity,” and none ever appealed to her in vain for sympathy or relief.

When I first went to the house, I saw only Mrs. Fenton and Elinor, but my interest in both was so much excited that the call was soon repeated, and on my second visit Mrs. Fenton said to her daughter,

“Elinor, where is your cousin? Go, my love, and tell Lilian I wish to see her here.”

Elinor left the room, and soon returned, accompanied by a young girl whom she introduced as Miss Grey, and in whom I recognized the original of the pleasing portrait I had seen. She was indeed most attractive in face and person; bright, sparkling, and intellectual,[21] with a world of thought and feeling in her full hazel eye, shaded by long silken lashes, and an equal amount of firmness and energy indicated by the finely moulded mouth and chin.

After paying her respects to me as a stranger, she seated herself on an ottoman by the side of the couch, and taking one thin, white hand of the invalid, laid her cheek on it in a caressing way, which was evidently the expression of a tender and loving nature.

“And what has my Lilian been about all the morning,” said Mrs. Fenton, “that I have seen nothing of her before?”

“Oh, dear aunt, I have been very busy, I assure you. Venus wanted me in the kitchen a while, for she was afraid her preserves were in danger of spoiling. Then I gave little Pete his daily lesson; and last, not least, had to prepare some work to take to the society to-morrow.”

[22]“Then you are going to our meeting?” I said; “I am very glad to hear that, for somehow I feared we should not have the pleasure of seeing you young ladies there.”

“You do not know our Lilian,” said her aunt fondly, “or you would have no doubts on such a subject. She is a perfect enthusiast in the Union cause, and I am afraid she has almost wished herself capable of bearing arms in its defence. However that may be, she honors a soldier with all her heart, and would gladly devote herself in any way to do him good. As for my Elinor,” she added, turning with a smile to her daughter, “she is no less loyal than her cousin, though not quite so demonstrative naturally, and tied to a sick mother who can hardly live without her. But you will see them both to-morrow, for the cause is dear to us all.”

[23]When I left the house, Lilian Grey accompanied me to the door, and taking my hand, said with a frankness that was very captivating,

“Mrs. Glenn, my aunt has taken a great fancy to you; and if there were no other reason, we should love you for that. Now I want to ask as a great favor, that you will take Elinor and myself under your wing to-morrow, for we cannot help dreading the battery of eyes and tongues that we must encounter. I dare say you are no worse here than other people, and perhaps a great deal better, but as Venus says, ‘There’s no accounting for human nature,’ and strangers usually have to run the gauntlet in order to gain the freedom of any country town.”

I kissed the fair cheek that was glowing like a rose, and promised my best services on the morrow.

There was a very full meeting of the[24] Soldiers’ Aid Society, for it was hoped that the strangers would attend, and all were anxious to meet them. I went early, and found Mrs. Ryder, our president, and Miss Letty Brown busied in cutting and fitting garments; while in the two rooms needles and tongues were equally active.

It was not long before Miss Fenton and her cousin came in, for they had none of that petty pride which leads its possessor to despise punctuality as a vulgar virtue. They were both more plainly dressed than most of the young ladies present; but though simple and unaffected in manner, there was an innate dignity and refinement about them which effectually repelled impertinence, and disappointed a few who were prepared, in their own elegant phraseology, “to find out all about them.” There was one woman, however, who was not to be foiled in this determination.

[25]Mrs. Flint was the widow of a worthy man, who is said to have been worried out of existence by his disconsolate partner, and none who knew her could question the probability of such a catastrophe. Her manner was always deprecating; her step, true to her nature, was soft and stealthy, and her voice carefully modulated to express only amiability; but there was a rigidity about the thin lips and a sharp glitter in the cold blue eye which told quite another story.

Greatly to the annoyance of our good pastor and his wife, Mrs. Flint arrogated to herself the office of adviser in all matters relating to the church; and as she could talk fluently, and call up tears from some hidden fountain on all proper occasions, some ignorant people looked on her as quite a saint, while those who knew her best regarded her as a scheming, dangerous woman, the female counterpart of[26] Bunyan’s Talkative. She had exerted herself to the utmost to get the management of the Society, and especially of its funds, into her own hands; and failing in this, had left us in disgust, and for months had not attended our meetings, until brought out by curiosity on the present occasion.

Mabel Ryder had drawn Elinor away into a circle of young ladies; but Lilian, who had been consulting Miss Letty about her work, was sitting alone, and to her Mrs. Flint cautiously made her way. After a few commonplace remarks, she said in her softest tone, “I am very happy to see you here, of course, but I hardly expected that you Southerners would be willing to help us fight against your own brethren.”

“I don’t know,” was the spirited reply, “whom you mean by my brethren. I am an American, and love my whole[27] country and the dear old flag better than my life. There is as much Northern blood in my veins as Southern, and if it were not so, I should feel just as I do now. No one could be any thing to me who wished to break up and destroy the best government ever formed by man. I never see a soldier who has fought for his country without feeling as if I wished to speak to him as a friend; and I count it an honor to do any thing, no matter how humble, that can add to his comfort.”

The dark eyes flashed and the red lips trembled with the earnestness of her feelings; and any one but Mrs. Flint would have retired from the field; but she only answered with perfect coolness,

“I admire your patriotism, but when we think what a terrible thing war is, and how many precious lives are thrown away, we cannot help being willing to do any thing for peace.”