Fashion and Famine

old-fashione

s are all saf

ns are plump wi

l is all sp

t to draw rou

and cousin

, who scarc

n his old o

t to wait for

free from mal

, that's portl

ly awaitin

are still attached generous gardens, hedged in with picket fences, and teeming with vegetables, and front yards full of old-fashioned shrubbery, with thick grass half a century old mossing them over. These things, primitive, and full of the olden times, are not yet crow

int on the edges of its clap-boards, and crowned by a huge stone chimney, whose generous throat seemed half choked up with sw

. True, the gorgeous tints of a late Indian summer lay richly among the trees, but some patches of bright green were still left, defyi

us foliage. One was red as blood, and with a dash of the most vivid green still keeping its hold down the centre of each leaf-the other golden all over, as if its roots were nourished in the metallic soil of California, and its leave

from their branches. They hung around the huge old lilac bushes. They fluttered down to the rose thick

, the parlor, the pantries, and the milk-room, went and came our old friend, Mrs. Gray, the comely huckster-woman of Fulton market. That house was hers. That great square garden at the back door was hers. How comfortable and harvest-like it lay

heir last delicate gherkins. All her neighbors had gathered in their crops days ago, but the good old lady only laughed and chuckled over the example thus offered for her imitation. New England born and accustomed to the sharp east winds of Maine, she cared nothing for the petty frosts that only made the leaves of her beet and parsn

nterfeit of a holiday proclaimed by the governor of New York. No! Mrs. Gray scorned this poor attempt at imitation. It made her double chin quiver only to think of it. If ever a look of contempt crept into those benevolent eyes, it was when people would try to convince her that any governor out of

week the woman of a neighboring stall took charge of Mrs. Gray's business. The customers were served by a strange hand; the brightness of her comely face was confined to he

h flour dust, the whole kitchen redolent with ginger, allspice, and cloves! You should have seen her grating orange peel and nutmegs, the border of her snow-white cap

fell! with what a quiet and smiling air the dear old lady would take up a quantity of the powdered beef on the flat of her knife, and observe, as it showered softly down to the tray again, that "meat chopped

rting from the land. Railroads and steamboats are sweeping them away. In a little time, providing our humble tale is not first sent to oblivion, this very d

lds, chrysanthemums, and China-asters, with the most velvety amaranths, still kept their bloom, for those huge old maples sheltered them like a tent, and flowers always blossomed later in that house than elsewhere. No wonder! Inside and out, all was pleasant and genial.

e awkward Irish girl, for she had only to see that the potatoes we

at had so often awed the whole poultry yard, lay all unheeded in the dust, close by the horse-block. There he sat, the poor denuded monarch-turned up in a dripping pan, simmering himself brown in the kitchen oven. Never, in all his pomp, had that bosom been so warmed and distended-yet the huge turkey had been a sad gourmand in his time. A rich thymy odor broke through every pore of his b

chicken-pie flanked his dripping pan on the right; a delicate sucking pig was drawn up to the left wing; in the rear towered a mountain of roa

p of the most delicate material, trimmed with satin ribbons, cast a transparent brightness over her bland and pleasant features. A dress of black silk, heavy and ample in the skirt, rustled round her portly figure as sh

m, and charge Kitty, the Irish girl, to be careful and watch the oven, to keep a sharp eye on the sauce-pans in the fire-place, and, above all, to have the mince pies within range of the fire, that they might receive a gradual and gentle warmth

he house. She knew the tramp of her own market horse even at that distance, and seat

n. Mrs. Gray's hired man was beginning to enter into the spirit of a holiday; and the old horse

lico and a cottage bonnet, down from the front seat. Mrs. Gray could maintain her position no longer; for the young girl glanced that way with a look so eloquent, a smile so bright, that it

or radishes in March," she cried, seizing the little ha

little wave of the hand toward an aged man who was tende

randma, of course. How could I help knowing them?" Mrs. Gray went up to the

now, it really does seem as if I had seen that face somewhere!" she added, hesitating, and with her eyes fixed doubtingl

answered, with a grave smile, "that, at any rate, Mrs. Gray

s made the good woman feel awkward, and she blushed like a girl. "No, no; but

husband's assistance. "Julia has seen you so often, and talked of you so much-no wonder we

ng up her prepossession. "Her face isn't one to leave the mind: I dreamed ab

ess, for Julia Warren had crept close to her, and ta

, with which she patted Julia on the shoulder. "There, there, pick your grand

l on the face of her grandfather, and she hesitated. There was something tr

she said, in a low voice, for, with delicate

e answered hurriedly, but wi

and then stooped to the flowers. The old gentlem

m the parlor window, after she had put aside Mrs. Warren's things; "and h

Mrs. Warren, with a gentle smile;

hat's all I think about it," she answered; and the two warm-hearted women s

a bloom fresh as an almond flower when it first opens. Still she was a slender, fragile little creature, and you saw that the rude winds of life had swept too early over her. Feeling and intellect had prematurely developed themselves in her nature. In her face-in her smile-in her eyes, with their beautif

eople's children much. I really believe that some day I shall up and give her these. It's come into my mind more than once, I can tell you, and yet they were my mot

her something," said

othing to

s and the bonnet-

that?-who told you

a sigh. "Julia was sure of it from the first; and the other things!" continued the old la

ous action. Good Mrs. Gray felt this the more sensitively, because her own words had seemed to challenge the thanks of her guest. The color came into her smooth cheek, and she began to arrange the folds of h

h of gladness radiated her face. "It's my nephew; you see him there, Mrs. Warren-no,

walked some distance, for a light over-sacque hung across his arm, and his face was flushed with exercise. Seei

ed; she could not turn them from the

no idea, ma'am, how good he is. There, that is just like him, the wild creature!" she continued, as the youth laid one h

"I'm in a hurry to get home, and the gate is too far off. Three kisses f

ce of pleasant surprise, and a smile broke over her lips. There was something so rosy and joyous in his face, and in the tones of his voice, that it rippled through her heart as if a bird overhead had just broken into song. The yo

s, Aunt Sarah, I have made up my

rogue's impudence, as she calle

will embrace you dutifully-upon my life I will-that is if my arms are long enough," and with every appearance of h

lia dear, this is my nephew, Mr. Robert Otis. His mother and I were sisters-only sisters; there were three

at his first approach, came forward and extended her hand to the youth

the youth, in a half whisper, as the girl moved toward the

t ever lived, Robert; that is all I k

yet Mr. Leicester would say that something else is wanting before we invite stran

a simple old woman, Robert; but somehow that which s

best, my darling old aunt. I only wanted to prov

ese things never did run in our family, and never will. Ju

ave. Some serious thought se

only adviser," he said, looking in he

d think by your looks that there was something in it. I'm s

e his momentary depression. "Just box my ears for teasing you, a

ish girl came through the front door with an expression of solemn import in her face. She whispe

wn the footpath leading from the front door to the gate. The first wild flash of spirits consequent on a return home had left him, and from that time the

d more beautiful than life, crouching in his bed of parsely, with his head up, and holding a lemon daintily between his jaws. The chicken-pie, pinched around the edge in

mince and tawny orange color of the pumpkin, were placed in alternate wedges, and radiating from the centre of each plate like a star, stood at equal distances round the table. Water sparkling from the well; currant wine brilliantly red-contrasted with the sheeted snow of the table-cloth; and the gleam of crystal; then that old arm-chair at the head of the table, with its soft crimson cushions. I tell you again, reader,

n. And Julia! even with her it was an epoch, a mile-stone in the path of her life-a mile-stone wreathed with blo

ood, Mrs. Gray could not forbear stealing another, and more searching glance at his face. She could not be mistaken, somewhere those features had met h

No wine was wanted to keep up the general cheerfulness; the sparkle of ch

re than once; and as for Robert, he was perfectly brilliant during the whole meal, saying the dr

igh arose from the recesses of Mrs. Gray's bosom, and she answered sadly that one guest was always expected on Thanksgiving day, but he never came. All the company saw that this was a painful subject, and no more questions were asked; but after dinner, when Robe

, hearty sort of romance, giving depth and vigor to her affections; people might smile at it, but what then? It beautified, and gave w

op in to partake of the festival. It was not very singular, considering all these things, that good Mrs. Gray should have cherished a fancy, as each of these festive holidays came round, that her long absent brother might return to claim his

tfall of the old market horse as he bore away those whom she had made so happy, seemed to trample out a sweet hope from her heart. There stood the chair-empty, empty, empty-her brother, her only brother, would he never come