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He had an odd, naive tenderness for growing things and for the creatures of the woods: it distressed him to have his wife water some of the flowers in the garden without watering them all; and though an excellent shot, he never brought down game without a pang it used to be said at Peterboro that for this reason he only "pretended to hunt," despite his expertness as a marksman.
One of the fellows had ventured too far, the ice had broken away, and now he was being borne swiftly down the stream! Already the current had swept him away from all hope of assistance from his companions, for up there the channel ran close to the Peterboro shore.
And at last she ran away with him, and they were married over at Peterboro and went there to live, for Bert had got work there. We we were too hard on Missy. But her father was so dreadful hurt about it. He'd been so fond and proud of her, and he felt that she had disgraced him. He disowned her, and sent her word never to show her face here again, for he'd never forgive her. And I was angry too.
One outcome of those glorious days of October, 1839, was a marriage, in Johnstown, the 10th day of May, 1840, and a voyage to the Old World. Six weeks of that charming autumn, ending in the Indian summer with its peculiarly hazy atmosphere, I lingered in Peterboro. It seems in retrospect like a beautiful dream.
She had a pretty hand, and it was adorned by the very best diamond that could be bought at Hanson's for one hundred and fifty dollars. She waited, watching Jimmie's stroke, while the Peterboro slipped out from the boathouse and rose quartering to the swells of a passing launch.
And in that second, with the bravado of early manhood, he threw discretion overboard, and set the slim bow of his Peterboro' for the middle span. Twenty seconds, later he knew that he was about to run the rapids whether he would or not. Settling himself amidship, he gripped the thwart tight between calf and thigh and, resting the paddle across the gunwale, peered anxiously forward.
He was fond of taking long, leisurely drives and rides through the rich and varied hill country about Peterboro, and many of the impressions that were then garnered and stored have found issue in some of his most intimate and affecting music as in the "Woodland Sketches" and "New England Idyls."
I recalled as I sat on the piazza how one time, when Frederick Douglass came to spend a few days at Peterboro, some Southern visitors wrote a note to Mr. Smith asking if Mr. Douglass was to sit in the parlor and at the dining table; if so, during his visit they would remain in their own apartments. Mr.
However, many things were always transpiring at Peterboro to turn one's thoughts and rouse new interest in humanity at large. One day, as a bevy of us girls were singing and chattering in the parlor, Cousin Gerrit entered and, in mysterious tones, said: "I have a most important secret to tell you, which you must keep to yourselves religiously for twenty-four hours."
"My camp is just outside the post here." "Then I will come to you tonight, Stane. I shall be late midnight as like as not." "I shall wait for you," answered Stane, and stepped aside. Ainley made a hurried exit, and the man whom he had left, moving to the door, watched him running towards the wharf, where a large Peterboro' canoe had just swung alongside.
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