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227 pages

English

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Description

After falling victim to a series of tragedies at a tender age, a little French-English girl named Doris makes her way to America to settle in with a new adoptive family. It's quite an adjustment, but Doris is fascinated by the sights and sounds of Boston, one of the oldest cities in the American colonies. Younger readers will relish this unique glimpse into early American history.

Sujets

Children's

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Publié par	The Floating Press
Date de parution	01 mai 2016
Nombre de lectures	0
EAN13	9781776670895
Langue	English

Informations légales : prix de location à la page 0,0134€. Cette information est donnée uniquement à titre indicatif conformément à la législation en vigueur.

Extrait

A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON
* * *
AMANDA MINNIE DOUGLAS

*
A Little Girl in Old Boston First published in 1897 Epub ISBN 978-1-77667-089-5 Also available: PDF ISBN 978-1-77667-090-1 © 2014 The Floating Press and its licensors. All rights reserved. While every effort has been used to ensure the accuracy and reliability of the information contained in The Floating Press edition of this book, The Floating Press does not assume liability or responsibility for any errors or omissions in this book. The Floating Press does not accept responsibility for loss suffered as a result of reliance upon the accuracy or currency of information contained in this book. Do not use while operating a motor vehicle or heavy equipment. Many suitcases look alike. Visit www.thefloatingpress.com
Contents
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Chapter I - Doris Chapter II - In a New Home Chapter III - Aunt Priscilla Chapter IV - Out to Tea Chapter V - A Morning at School Chapter VI - A Birthday Party Chapter VII - About a Gown Chapter VIII - Sinful or Not? Chapter IX - What Winter Brought Chapter X - Concerning Many Things Chapter XI - A Little Christmas Chapter XII - A Children's Party Chapter XIII - Various Opinions of Little Girls Chapter XIV - In the Spring Chapter XV - A Freedom Suit Chapter XVI - A Summer in Boston Chapter XVII - Another Girl Chapter XVIII - Winter and Sorrow Chapter XIX - The High Resolve of Youth Chapter XX - A Visitor for Doris Chapter XXI - Elizabeth and—Peace Chapter XXII - Cary Adams Chapter XXIII - The Cost of Womanhood Chapter XXIV - The Bloom of Life—Love
*
SALLIE BUFFUM:
To you, who have been a little girl in later Boston, I inscribe this story of another little girl who lived almost a hundred years ago, and found life busy and pleasant and full of affection, as I hope it will prove to you.
AMANDA M. DOUGLAS. NEWARK, N. J., 1898.
Chapter I - Doris
*
"I do suppose she is a Papist! The French generally are," said AuntPriscilla, drawing her brows in a delicate sort of frown, and sippingher tea with a spoon that had the London crown mark, and had been buriedearly in revolutionary times.
"Why, there were all the Huguenots who emigrated from France for thesake of worshiping God in their own way rather than that of the Pope. WePuritans did not take all the free-will," declared Betty spiritedly.
"You are too flippant, Betty," returned Aunt Priscilla severely. "And Idoubt if her father's people had much experimental religion. Then, shehas been living in a very hot-bed of superstition!"
"The cold, dreary Lincolnshire coast! I think it would take a good dealof zeal to warm me, even if it was superstition."
"And she was in a convent after her mother died! Yes, she is pretty sureto be a Papist. It seems rather queer that second-cousin Charles shouldhave remembered her in his will."
"But Charles was his namesake and nephew, the child of his favoritesister," interposed Mrs. Leverett, glancing deprecatingly at Betty,pleading with the most beseeching eyes that she should not ruffle AuntPriscilla up the wrong way.
"But what is that old ma'shland good for, anyway?" asked Aunt Priscilla.
"Why they are filling in and building docks," said Betty theirrepressible. "Father thinks by the time she is grown it will be ahandsome fortune."
Aunt Priscilla gave a queer sound that was not a sniff, but had adownward tendency, as if it was formed of inharmonious consonants. Itexpressed both doubt and disapproval.
"But think of the expense and the taxes! You can't put a bit ofimprovement on anything but the taxes eat it up. I want my hall doorpainted, and the cornishes,"—Aunt Priscilla always would pronounce itthat way,—"but I mean to wait until the assessor has been round. It'sthe best time to paint in cool weather, too. I can't afford to pay a manfor painting and then pay the city for the privilege."
No one controverted Mrs. Perkins. She broke off her bread in bits andsipped her tea.
"Why didn't they give her some kind of a Christian name?" she begansuddenly. "Don't you suppose it is French for the plain, old-fashioned,sensible name of Dorothy?"
Betty laughed. "Oh, Aunt Priscilla, it's pure Greek. Doris and Phyllisand Chloe—"
"Phyllis and Chloe are regular nigger names," with the utmost disdain.
"But Greek, all the same. Ask Uncle Winthrop."
"Well, I shall call her Dorothy. I'm neither Greek nor Latin nor acollege professor. There's no law against my being sensible,fursisee"—which really meant "far as I see." "And the idea ofappointing Winthrop Adams her guardian! I did think second-cousinCharles had more sense. Winthrop thinks of nothing but books and goingback to the Creation of the World, just as if the Lord couldn't havemade things straight in the beginning without his help. I dare say hewill find out what language they talked before the dispersion of Babel.People are growing so wise nowadays, turning the Bible inside out!" andshe gave her characteristic sniff. "I'll have another cup of tea,Elizabeth. Now that we're through with the war, and settled solid-likewith a President at the helm, we can look forward to somethingpermanent, and comfort ourselves that it was worth trying for. Still,I've often thought of that awful waste of tea in Boston harbor. Seems asthough they might have done something else with it. Tea will keep a goodlong while. And all that wretched stuff we used to drink and call itLiberty tea!"
"I don't know as we regret many of the sacrifices, though it came harderon the older people. We have a good deal to be proud of," said Mrs.Leverett.
"And a grandfather who was at Bunker Hill," appended Betty.
Aunt Priscilla never quite knew where she belonged. She had come overwith the Puritans, at least her ancestors had, but then there had been atitle in the English branch; and though she scoffed a little, she hadgreat respect for royalty, and secretly regretted they had not calledthe head of the government by a more dignified appellation thanPresident. Her mother had been a Church of England member, but ratheraustere Mr. Adams believed that wives were to submit themselves to theirhusbands in matters of belief as well as aught else. Then PriscillaAdams, at the age of nineteen, had wedded the man of her father'schoice, Hatfield Perkins, who was a stanch upholder of the Puritanfaith. Priscilla would have enjoyed a little foolish love-making, andshe had a carnal hankering for fine gowns; and, oh, how she did long todance in her youth, when she was slim and light-footed!
In spite of all, she had been a true Puritan outwardly, and had a littlemisgiving that the prayers of the Church were vain repetitions, theorgan wickedly frivolous, and the ringing of bells suggestive of popery.There had been no children, and a bad fall had lamed her husband so thatvolunteering for a soldier was out of the question, but he had assistedwith his means; and some twelve years before this left his widow incomfortable circumstances for the times.
She kept to her plain dress, although it was rich; and her housemaid wasan elderly black woman who had been a slave in her childhood. Shedevoted a good deal of thought as to who should inherit her propertywhen she was done with it. For those she held in the highest esteem wereelderly like herself, and the young people were flighty and extravagantand despised the good old ways of prudence and thrift.
They were having early tea at Mrs. Leverett's. Aunt Priscilla's motherhad been half-sister to Mrs. Leverett's mother. In the old days of largefamilies nearly everyone came to be related. It was always very cozy inSudbury Street, and Foster Leverett was in the ship chandlery trade.Aunt Priscilla did love a good cup of tea. Whether the quality wasfiner, or there was some peculiar art in brewing it, she could neverquite decide; or whether the social cream of gentle Elizabeth Leverett,and the spice of Betty, added to the taste and heightened the flavorbeyond her solitary cup.
Early October had already brought chilling airs when evening set in. Acentury or so ago autumn had the sharpness of coming winter in the earlymorning and after sundown. There was a cheerful wood fire on thehearth, and its blaze lighted the room sufficiently, as the red light ofthe sunset poured through a large double window.
The house had a wide hall through the center that was really thekeeping-room. The chimney stood about halfway down, a great stone affairbuilt out in the room, tiled about with Scriptural scenes, with twotiers of shelves above, whereon were ranged the family heirlooms—sohigh, indeed, that a stool had to be used to stand on when they weredusted. Just below this began a winding staircase with carved spindlesand a mahogany rail and newel, considered quite an extravagance in thatday.
This lower end was the living part. In one of the corners was built thebuffet, while a door opposite led into the wide kitchen. Across the backwas a porch where shutters were hung in the winter to keep out the cold.
The great dining table was pushed up against the wall. The round teatable was set out and the three ladies were having their tea, quite acommon custom when there was a visitor, as the men folk were late comingin and a little uncertain.
On one side the hall opened in two large, well-appointed rooms. On theother were the kitchen and "mother's room," where, when the childrenwere little, there had been a cradle and a trundle bed. But one son andtwo daughters were married; one son was in his father's warehouse, andwas now about twenty; the next baby boy had died; and Betty, theyoungest, was sixteen, pretty, and a little spoiled, of course. Yet AuntPriscilla had a curious fondness for her, which she insisted to herselfwas very reprehensible, since Betty was such a feather-brained girl.
"It is to be hoped the ship did get in to-day," Aunt Priscilla beganpresently. "If there's anything I hate, it's being on tenterhooks."
"She was spoken this morning. There's always more or less delay withpilots and tides and what not," replied Mrs. Leverett.