A Little Girl in Old Salem, Amanda Minnie Douglas [the snowy day read aloud .TXT] 📗

Polly had been having her sampler framed. The acorn border was very pretty in its greens and browns. Then a stiff little tree grew up both sides, about like those that came in the Noah's Ark later on. And between these two trees was worked in cross-stitch:


"Mary Upham is my name,
America is my nation;
Salem is my dwelling place,
And Christ is my salvation."


"Isn't the frame nice?" she asked. "I made father two shirts and he gave me the frame and the glass. Peter Daly made it. And the frame is oiled and polished until the grain shows--well, almost like watered silk. Gitty Sprague has a beautiful pelisse of gray watered silk. And now I have one thing for my house. I'm beginning to lay by."

"Your house!" Cynthia ejaculated in surprise.

"Why, yes--when I'm married. You have such lots of things, you'll never have to save up."

Cynthia was wondering what she could give away. Not anything that was her father's or her mother's.

"I'll paint you a picture. You do so much better needlework than I that I should be ashamed to offer you any."

"And the girls will give me some, I know. I'd fifty times rather have the picture. What a nice young fellow that cousin is! I'm glad his name isn't Leverett. There's such a host of them. But I don't like Anthony so well."

"That was father's name. It's quite a family name. It always sounds good to me."

"And is he going to Harvard?"

"Yes; even if he can't get in right away."

"That's nice, too. It's quite the style for young men to go to college. Some of them put on a sight of airs, though. He doesn't look like that kind."

"He isn't," she returned warmly. "He is going to work his way through."

"Oh! Hasn't he any father?"

"Yes; but his father will not do anything for him. I think it is real grand of him."

Polly nodded, but she lost interest in the young man.

Bentley walked home with Cynthia. It was afternoon, so he did not really need to.

"I suppose that cousin isn't going to live with you?" he asked presently.

"Oh, no; he will have to live in Boston."

"And come up here for Sundays?"

"Why, I don't know. That would be nice. I think I am growing fond of company."

"Well, I can come over;" half jocosely.

"Oh, I meant other people;" innocently.

"Then you don't care for my coming?"

"Yes, I do. Oh, do you remember that winter I was half sick and how you used to come over and read Latin? And I used to say it to myself after you."

That delighted him. He didn't feel so cross about the young fellow, but he half hoped he wouldn't pass, and have to go back to New Hampshire for another year.

They sat on the stoop and chatted until the old stage stopped and Chilian alighted.

"Oh!" the young girl cried, "where did you leave Anthony?"

"With Cousin Giles. The examinations will begin to-morrow."

It was near supper-time and Ben rose to go. Sometimes they asked him to stay to supper, but to-night they did not.

Then an event happened that took Cynthia's entire interest for a while. This was the return of Captain Corwin. He came up the walk one day--quite a grizzled old fellow it seemed, with the sailor's rolling gait--and looked at her so sharply that she had a mind to run away.

"Oh, Captain Anthony's little girl," he cried. "You have forgotten me. And it ain't been so long either."

She thought a moment and turned from red to white. Then she stretched out both hands and cried, her eyes and voice full of tears:

"Oh, you couldn't bring him back!"

"No, little Missy. He'd shipped for the last time before I'd reached there and gone to a better haven. He was the best friend I ever had. But he knew it long afore, and that was why he wanted you safe with friends."

"I know now." She brushed the tears from her eyes.

"And I hope you've been happy."

"I waited and waited at first. Sometimes I wished I was a bird. Oh, wouldn't we have a lovely time if we could fly? And one time in the winter I was quite ill--it was so cold and I did get so tired of waiting. Then Cousin Chilian told me he had gone to mother and I knew how glad she would be to see him. I had some nice times. Cousin Chilian loved me very much. So did Cousin Eunice. I think Cousin Elizabeth would if she had lived longer, but she went away, too. Oh, I've done so many things--studied books, and taken journeys, and made friends, and painted pictures, flowers, and such. And I've tried to paint the sea, but I can't make it move and seem like a real sea."

"Oh, Missy, how smart you must be!"

"There are so many things I don't know," she laughed. "And now tell me about yourself and why you did not come back."

"We had a pretty fair journey all along first. But as we were nearing Torres Strait an awful storm took us, and we were driven ashore almost a wreck and lost two of our men. After a while we got patched up and set sail again, but I was afraid we would never reach harbor. Howsomever we did, in a pretty bad condition. Poor _Flying Star_ seemed on its last legs and 'twasn't sea legs either. Then I went up to Hong Kong and cruised around, buying stuff and selling it elsewhere. The _Flying Star_ was patched up again, but she wasn't thought safe for a long journey. But there was plenty of work near at hand. Of course, I knew all about your father, and that the word must have reached you, but I hated mortally to come back and face you. But after a while the hankerin' for old Salem grew upon me. And there was the _Aurora_ wantin' a captain, for the man who brought her out died of a fever. So says I, 'I'm your man, and I've been over often enough to know the ropes, the islands, and p'ints of danger and safe sailing.' So here I be once more. But jiminy Peter! I should hardly 'a' knowed little old Salem. Why, she looks as if she was going to outsail all creation!"

"Oh, we're getting very grand. New streets, and splendid new houses, and stores, and churches. Why, Boston isn't very much finer."

"Don't b'lieve Boston harbor can show tonnage with her! And where's first mate?"

"I don't know, but he will be in soon. Oh, there's Rachel. Rachel, come here to an old friend."

The captain shook hands heartily. "Why, you don't seem to have changed a mite, only to grow younger and plump as a partridge."

It had all to be talked over again and in the midst of it supper was ready, and there was Miss Eunice's surprise. Cynthia could hardly eat, the long journey and the dangers seemed such a strange thing now. Had she really come from India, or was it all a dream?

Yes, old Salem was almost fading out of the minds of even middle-aged people. There were curious stories told about witches and ghosts, but the real witchcraft was dying out of mind and the old houses that had been associated with it were looked upon as curiosities. Public spirit was being roused. In 1804 the East India Marine Society left the Stearns house and moved to the new Pickman Building in Essex Street. People began to send in curiosities that had been stored away in garrets: models of early vessels, articles from Calcutta, from the islands about the Central and South Pacific, cloths, and cloaks, and shawls, and implements.

The captain was quite sure Winter Island had grown larger--perhaps it had, by docking out. And he declared the streets looked like London, with the gayly gowned women, the stores, the carriages, for a number of handsome late ones were to be seen. There were a few fine young men on the promenade and they were attired in the height of fashion, as the society men of New York and Philadelphia. They were still paying attention to business and devoting the evenings to pleasure. Descendants of the strict old Puritans met to play cards and have dances and gay times with the young ladies. In the afternoon a cup of tea would be offered to callers, or a piece of choice cake and a glass of wine--often home-made. There were few excesses.

Many were still wearing the old Continental attire, yet you saw an old Puritan gentleman, with his long coat, his high-crowned hat, black silk stockings, and low shoes with great steel buckles.

Anthony was very much interested in the captain, whose best friend had been Anthony Leverett. He was proud of the name, and Cynthia's story was like a romance to him. He was taken up quite cordially by Cousin Giles, and very cordially by Mrs. Stevens, who had a liking for young men when they were well-mannered. He had managed to enter Harvard, with some studies to make up. Chilian Leverett insisted he should do no teaching this year, and offered him enough to see him through, but he would only accept it as a loan.

Bentley Upham was a year ahead and had a good standing, but he felt a little jealous of the young country fellow--"bumpkin" he would have liked to call him, but he was not that. A young man received at Mr. Giles Leverett's, and who sometimes escorted Mrs. Stevens to an entertainment, was not to be ignored.

The captain staid in port nearly two months and Cynthia experienced her old fondness for him, if he was a little uncouth and rough. They went down to see the _Aurora_ off and she recalled the day she had said good-bye to the _Flying Star_, that was to bring back her father.

As for her she was very busy learning to play and to paint. It was a young lady's accomplishment, but she really did very well. There were girls' teas, and now and then a small dance that began at seven and ended at nine, but boys were invited generally. Miss Polly Upham was quite in the swim, as we should say now. Mothers expected their daughters to marry, and how could they if they did not see young men? But there was a certain propriety observed, and very little playing fast and loose with the most sacred period of life, with the greatest God-given blessing--Love.


CHAPTER XIV

IN GAY OLD SALEM

The next winter Cynthia was fairly launched on society. There was no regular coming out in almost bridal array, with a grand tea and a houseful of flowers. When a girl left school she expected to be invited out and to give little companies at home. Almost the first thing, she was asked to be one of the six bridesmaids at Laura Manning's wedding.

The Mannings had one of the splendid new houses on Chestnut Street, with spacious grounds before the houses grew so close together. Avis Manning was still in school, Cynthia was between the two in age. Mr. Manning was connected with the East India trade and an old friend of the Leverett family. It had begun by Cynthia