Amanda M. Douglas

“ Hanny read the verses over and over, and saw the city by the sea where dwelt beautiful Annabel Lee, and how her high-born kinsman, who came in great state in a chariot, carried her away from the one who loved her so dearly. But when, later on, she came to know and understand the poem, and the high-born kinsman had come for some of those she held most dear, she could always go back to the vague mysterious awe that filled and thrilled her then. She sat as if in a trance until grandmother, who had taken her nap, came and took the arm-chair beside the open window. ”

“ There is no striving for effect. A woman singing with a God-given voice, in simple thanks for its ownership, not a queen bidding for admiration. Had any voice ever made such glorious melody, or so stirred human souls?
The applause has in it an immensity of appreciation, as if it could never get itself wholly expressed.
Then another favourite, which everybody sang at for years afterward: "I dreamt I dwelt in marble halls." In some of the sorrows of her womanhood, the little girl was to recall the sweet refrain—
"That you loved me still the same." ”

“ I can take long walks and dance, think of that! I am only a little lame. Just the merest crook in my back, and one leg a tiny bit shorter, but a thick sole makes it all right. And I've grown like a weed, while you are a tiny bit of something very choice,—a dainty little white rose. And I am so glad to have you again. Oh, don't let anything ever come between us! Let us be friends all our lives long. I have brought you a beautiful ring to bind friendship."
"Oh," sighed Hanny, in delight. ”

“ Thackeray really shook hands with me. He has two little girls, and they haven't any mother. If you could have seen Daisy! And she dances beautifully."
"Hanny, your tongue runs like a mill-race. Do keep still, child. Cynthia has you pinned in every fashion. I hope your dress looked nice enough for a little girl. There, I'll take care of them all. You will never want to get up in the morning."
When she had hung the dress out of sight, she felt as if she had her little girl once more. And the little girl fell asleep to the sound of the most delicious music ever floating through one's brain. ”

“ He looked at Hanny. The little girl could climb trees and walk out to the ends of the limbs and jump; she had swung her arms and said one, two, three, and gone flying over the creek without falling in; she could do "vinegar" with a skipping rope; she could walk the edge of the curb-stone without tilting over; she could swing ever so high and not wink; she wasn't afraid to go up stairs in the dark; but when the elephant took the first long, rocking step, she felt something as she had when Luella Bounett had run downstairs with her in her arms. ”

“ Still, I think Margaret one of the noblest and sweetest of names."
"I don't suppose any one will think Hannah a sweet name," said the little girl, rather ruefully. "They all say—it's a good name. But I don't want to be just like Grandmother Van Kortlandt. When I am real old I would rather be like Grandmother Underhill."
"Luckily, the names do not endow us with the natures."
In the end, it was Margaret; and they called her Daisy, much to the little girl's delight. When Mrs. Jasper heard of the name, she sent her a beautiful pair of sleeve-pins. ”

“ It had been made for Miss Lois' wedding outfit when she was a happy young girl, dreaming over a joyous future that had never come to pass.
But Margaret's hair they all thought the crowning glory. Miss Cynthia was very fond of adorning people for parties, and so deft that she was in frequent demand. She had brought a great high comb of beautiful, clear shell that had belonged to her mother. There was a loose twist made like the figure eight at the back, and in front, rows of dainty puffs and ends of curls, that dropped down on her white forehead. ”

“ Daisy Jasper could have listened all night, entranced. Tall Doctor Joe sat beside her, easing her position now and then, while Hanny smiled and made joyful comments of approval in so soft a tone they disturbed no one.
"I've never been so happy in all my life," Daisy Jasper said to Doctor Joe. "It seems as if I could never feel miserable again. There are so many splendid things in the world that I am glad to live and be among them, if I can't ever be quite straight and strong." ”

“ There were roses and hollyhocks like rows of sentinels, and sweet brier clambering about. The little girl thought of it many a time afterward, when it had become much more famous, as Sunnyside. Indeed, she was to sit on the old piazza overlooking the river and listen to the pleasant voice that had charmed so many people, and study the drawings of Rip Van Winkle and Sleepy Hollow, to hear about Katrina Van Tassel, and the churn full of water that Fammetie Van Blarcom brought over from Holland because she was sure there could be no water good to drink in the new country. ”

“ Then "Comin' thro' the Rye," with a lilt and dainty deliciousness that one never can forget. But "Home, Sweet Home," moves to tears and enthusiasm. Surely, no voice ever put such pathos, such marvellous sweetness, into it!
And sometimes now, when the little girl looks over to the other country, one of the many joys she thinks will be hearing such blessed voices as Jenny Lind's and Parepa Rosa's. You could not shake her faith in immortality and all these precious joys to come. ”

“ Hanny used to think how queer the city must have been in seventeen hundred, when people had a black servant to carry the lantern so one could see to get about. She knew so much of the early history now,—the Dutch reign and the British reign and the close of the war.
Old Mr. Bounett looked like a picture in his handsome, old-fashioned attire; and he just seemed asleep. The large rooms and the hall were full, and men were standing out on the sidewalk. He had rounded out the century. A hundred years was a long while to live. ”

“ Doctor Joe just carried her up the steps, and opened the door with his latch-key. But Mrs. Underhill had heard them, and she came downstairs, wrapped in a shawl.
"Oh, Joe, how could you keep her out so late! Do you know it's almost three o'clock?"
Then the mother folded her to her heart. It seemed as if she had been snatched from some great danger; and now that she had her safe and sound, she felt as if she should never let her go again.
"You're all excitement, Hanny; you tremble like a leaf. Such dissipations are bad for growing girls." ”

“ Ben and Delia were in front, and Mr. Whitney in the seat behind. They kept up an animated conversation, and thought it had been a delightful afternoon.
"And I feel like quoting a bit out of a letter of the Poet Gray," said Ben. "'Do you not think a man may be the wiser, I had almost said better, for going a hundred or two miles?' We have gone a tenth or so of that, and I feel ever so much richer as well as wiser. How is it with you, little Hanny?"
"I've been to the land of heroes," she replied, with a soft smile. "I shall insist that Jim must honour New Jersey in the future." ”

“ Here was where she heard that sweet and wonderful Jenny Lind, who, with Parepa Rosa, and many another divine voice, is singing up in the New Jerusalem. And though hundreds in the glare of light and blaze of diamonds listen to Patti, she wonders if the enthusiasm is as deep and sincere.
Over opposite where modest Brooklyn lived its simple, friendly life fifty years ago, stretching out into country ways and green fields, there are miles of houses, and the great bridge is such an everyday affair one hardly gives it a second thought. ”

“ We read "Robert Elsmere," and "John Ward, Preacher," and go our way tranquilly. Education has become almost a synonym for genius.
The gold of the Pacific Coast, the oil wells, the rich spoils of the earth, have been touched with the wand of industry and science. Railroads run to and fro; vessels dot the ocean; we cross it now in less than a week. Cables bring us hour-old news from everywhere. We go abroad for seasons and touch elbows with royalty, and are not abashed. We gather the beauty and wisdom of the old world. ”

“ The wood-robins were beginning their vespers already. Hanny thought them the sweetest singers she had ever heard.
Just here there was a terraced garden-spot and an old house adorned with all kinds of blossoming shrubbery.
"You see we two are guardians of the place, at either end. Miss Whitney, this house could tell some interesting tales of the bygone time; but the glory is departing. In a few years the city will stretch out and invade our solitude." ”

“ Hanny hesitated an instant. She longed to have Mrs. Jasper's approbation.
"We have been looking for you," said Ben. "Let us begin in the one set. Here is Daisy and Joe."
Then it would be all right. She glanced up and smiled with cordial assent.
The old-fashioned Spanish dance was a great favourite at that time, when germans were unknown. Its graceful turns and windings, its stately balances, until the dancers seemed all one long elegant chain, that moved to the perfect time of the music, was indeed fascinating. People danced then. Youth never dreamed of being bored, and walking languidly. ”

“ A little old woman sat sewing by the window.
"We haven't time to stop," said Mr. Whitney. "Hanny, that lady is your hero's grandmother, and the mother of General Watts Kearny. He not only distinguished himself in the Mexican War, but also in the War of 1812. Then he was Governor of Vera Cruz and the City of Mexico."
"And the hero of no end of stories," added Ben. "Jim and I were wild over them a few years ago. Why do people keep saying we have no romance in our own country, because we have no ruined old castles? Why, Mexico itself is a land of historical romance!" ”

“ Why is he not as brave as the bird? Are there any choicer, more exquisite words in which to say it?
They come to a little stream. "Oh, just down here is Kissing Bridge," she says, with a kind of girlish gleefulness.
She had made her father tell the old Dutch story one evening, when they were all sitting on the stoop. And as they go on, she, with a sort of eager, heedless step, as if she was not walking on his heart, tells about Stephen, and how he jumped out of the carriage and gathered a great bunch of roses for her. They have reached the spot. The stream has shrunken. You could step over it. ”

“ Oh, dear, I do hate to sew rags!"
"What kind of sewing do you like?" asked Janey, in a tone that would have been sarcastic in an older person.
"I just don't like any kind. Hanny, do you know that some one has invented a sewing-machine?" and Polly looked up with the triumph of superior wisdom.
"Oh, yes, I saw it at the Institute Fair. And there's a place on Broadway where a woman sits in the window and sews. It's very queer; but we think it doesn't sew real nice." ”

“ She is in the older generation now, and a grandmother. You may see her in Central Park, or some of the surburban places, a fair, sweet small personage, with a face more nearly beautiful than in her girlhood. Her hair has that shining silvery tint, her complexion is clear and fine, and her eyes, though they have wept bitter tears, still look out gladly, serenely, on life. ”

“ Nicoll had said, in her caustic way:—
"You make the most of your time, Lily Ludlow. I'm past eighty, and you may find me dead in my bed some morning. I have not a stiver to leave any one; so don't you count on that. I can hardly pay my own way."
Still she had every luxury for herself; for years she had considered nothing but her own wants and indulgences.
Poor Jim! In his young mannishness he was quite sure there was no danger of falling in love; of course such a thing would be wildest folly. But Lily was very fascinating and very flattering. ”

“ The little girl had so many things to distract her attention that she wondered how grown-up people could be so tranquil with all their knowledges and their cares. She began to realise the great difference in tastes and characteristics, though she would not have quite comprehended that long word. Perhaps Ben, being in the midst of stories and books, and hearing so much talk about the great men of the day, roused the same train of thought in her, though I think hero-worship came natural to her. The Dean girls read the sweet pretty domestic stories with great relish. ”