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Updated: June 24, 2025
Old Samson moved steadily along, past Joel Bean's, and the bridge, and up the hill that brought Gershom in sight, and then she said aloud: "But then things might have been different," and then old Samson felt the whip laid on with a little more decision this time, and this, probably with the anticipation of the measure of oats awaiting him in the squire's stable, quickened his movements; and in a few minutes Miss Betsey was shaking the snow from her cloak in Sally Griffith's back kitchen.
Miss Betsey,—or Mrs. Sewell, as we must now call her,—did as she was bid, like a dutiful child, without any question of the why and wherefore. "And now," said honest John Hull to the servants, "bring that box hither." The box, to which the mint-master pointed, was a huge, square, iron bound, oaken chest; it was big enough, my children, for all four of you to play at hide-and-seek in.
She rose, and going toward the hearth, dropped the papers one by one into the fire. "Now, Cousin Betsey, that is done with. Forget all about it. We will never speak of this again." Elizabeth took the old bag to carry it away. Several papers fell from the other side as she moved it. She looked at each one as she put it in the bag again, reading aloud what was written on each.
These dear little innocent people who are happy in their own love-affairs, have a marvellous faculty of falling into the needs of others, and God bless them for it! "But how?" asked Aunt Betsey. "Oh, I don't know," said Susan. "Cousin Josey knows." "I only know one plan to get her here without suspicion," said Josephine. "To do that we must tell a falsehood, but only for an hour."
And there are some things that look best a little way off, you know." "That's so. And if it's Holts you want, you'd better stick to Betsey." "Yes, and Ben," said Katie, laughing. "Bairns," said grannie gravely, "you're no quarrelling, I hope. Are you ready, Katie? And, Davie lad, are you sure it's quite safe for your sister to go over the river on your raft?
Samuel was the first to creep from his hiding-place and dash to the side of his father, whom he saw at the front door. Betsey and Peggy followed, calling, "Where's mother?" "Is she not with you?" asked their surprised father, grasping his children by the hands in his thankfulness to find them alive, for the Indians had left a desolated spot. "Here comes Uncle Jack from the garrison house.
My mother was named Harriet Bailey. She was the daughter of Isaac and Betsey Bailey, both colored, and quite dark. My mother was of a darker complexion than either my grandmother or grandfather. My father was a white man. He was admitted to be such by all I ever heard speak of my parentage.
Pleased with his contribution to literature, Uncle Ebeneezer had written a long and keenly comprehensive essay upon each relation. These bits of vivid portraiture were numbered in this way: "Relation Number 8, Miss Betsey Skiles, Claiming to be Cousin." At the end of this series was a very beautiful tribute to "My Dearly Beloved Nephew, James Harlan Carr, Who Has Never Come to See Me."
Anson, looking quite casually into Falmouth on his way down-Channel, found there in '46 the Betsey tender, then just recently condemned, and took out of her every man she possessed at the cost of a mere hour's work, ignorant of the fact that when pressing eight of those men the commander of the Betsey had been "eight hours about it."
She was evidently still afraid of Miss Betsey, for she sent her grateful duty to her but timidly; and she was evidently afraid of me, too, and entertained the probability of my running away again soon: if I might judge from the repeated hints she threw out, that the coach-fare to Yarmouth was always to be had of her for the asking.
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