Sometimes the conversation turned on earthly hopes and plans,
and then it became less intelligible to me.
One ride, I remember, which occupied a long summer afternoon. We left
home after an early dinner, and wound our way over hills rocky and
steep, from which we would catch views of the river, keeping always near
its bank, till we came to Mr. Williams's own home, or rather that of his
mother. What a pleasant visit was that! How Mr. Williams's mother and
sisters rejoiced over our coming! What a pet they made of me! and how
much they seemed inclined to pet my Cousin Mary Rose. I have an
indistinct idea of a faint flush passing now and then over the White
Rose. What a joyous, bountiful time it was! Such pears, and peaches, and
apples as were heaped up on the occasion! How social and cheerful was
the gathering around the teatable, lavishly spread with dainties!
How golden and glorious looked the hills, the trees, and the river in
the last rays of the setting sun, as we started from the door on our
return! How the sunset faded to twilight, and the dimness gave place to
the light of the rising moon, long before we reached the door, where
anxious Aunt Rose was watching for us! How much talk there was with the
old people about it all; for I suspect that, in their life of rare
incidents, it was the custom to make much of every thing that occurred.
What an unlading there was of the chaise-box, and bringing to light of
peaches and pears, which kept the journey in remembrance for many days
after!
That night, as on every other night of my stay, my kind cousin saw me
safely placed in my bed, after I had knelt beside her to repeat my
evening prayer.
Pages:
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
103
104
105
106
107
108
109
110
111
112