SAY AND SEAL. BY THE AUTHOR OF "WIDE, WIDE WORLD," "MELBOURNE HOUSE," &c., &c. "If any man make religion as twelve, and the world as thirteen, such FREDERICK WARNE & CO., BEDFORD STREET, COVENT GARDEN. PREFACE. In a shady, sunshiny town, lying within certain boundsgeographical or imaginary—these events (really or in imagination) occurred. Precisely when, the chroniclers do not say. Scene opens with the breezes which June and the coming of a new school teacher naturally create. After the fashion of the place, his lodgings are arranged for him beforehand by the School Committee. But where or in what circumstances the scene may close, having told at the end of the book, we do not incline to tell at the beginning. E. W. February 1860. A. L. SAY AND SEAL. CHAPTER I. THE street was broad with sidewalks, and wide grass-grown borders, and a spacious track of wheels and horses' feet in the centre. Great elms, which the early settlers planted, waved their pendant branches over the peaceful highway, and gave shelter and nest-room to numerous orioles, killdeer, and robins ; putting off their yellow leaves in the autumn, and bearing their winter weight of snow, in seeming quiet assurance that spring would make amends for all. So slept the early settlers in the churchyard! Along the street, at pleasant neighbourly intervals-not near enough to be crowded, not far enough to be lonely-stood the houses, comfortable, spacious, compact,-"with no nonsense about them." The Mong lay like a mere blue thread in the distance, its course often pointed out by the gaff of some little sloop that followed the bends of the river up towards Suckiaug. The low rolling shore was spotted with towns and spires; over all was spread the fairest blue sky and floating specks of white. Not many sounds were astir,-the robins whistled, thief-like, over the cherry-trees; the killdeer, from some high twig, sent forth his sweet, clear note; and now and then a pair of wheels rolled softly along the smooth road: the rush of the wind filled up the pauses. Anybody who was down by the Mong might have heard the soft roll of his blue waters,-any one by the lighthouse might have heard the harsher dash of the salt waves. I might go on, and say that if anybody had been looking out of Mrs Derrick's window, he or she might have seen-what Mrs Derrick really saw! For she was looking out of the window (or rather through the blind) at the critical moment that afternoon. It would be too much to say that she placed herself there on purpose, let the reader suppose what he likes. At the time, then, that the village clock was striking four, when meditative cows were examining the length of their shadows, and all the geese were setting forth for their afternoon * A |
