"Ah," said he, the teeth this time becoming wholly visible, "I've heard of Mrs. Bacon, but have not the honor of her acquaintance. You are from the east, I perceive."
"Law, now! how did you know that?" asked Mrs. Nichols, while Mr.
Everett answered, "I _guessed_ at it," with a peculiar emphasis on the word guessed, which led 'Lena to think he had used it purposely and not from habit.
Mr. Everett possessed in a remarkable degree the faculty of making those around him both respect and like him, and ere six weeks had passed, he had won the love of all his pupils. Even John Jr. was greatly improved, and Carrie seemed suddenly reawakened into a thirst for knowledge, deeming no task too long, and no amount of study too hard, if it won the commendation of the teacher. 'Lena, who committed to memory with great ease, and who consequently did not deserve so much credit for her always perfect lessons, seldom received a word of praise, while poor Anna, notoriously lazy when books were concerned, cried almost every day, because as she said, "Mr. Everett didn't like her as he did the rest, else why did he look at her so much, watching her all the while, and keeping her after school to get her lessons over, when he knew how she hated them."
Once Mrs. Livingstone ventured to remonstrate, telling him that Anna was very sensitive, and required altogether different treatment from Carrie. "She thinks you dislike her," said she, "and while she retains this impression, she will do nothing as far as learning is concerned; so if you do not like her, try and make her think you do!"
There was a peculiar look in Mr. Everett's dark eyes as he answered, "You may think it strange, Mrs. Livingstone, but of all my pupils I love Anna the best! I know I find more fault with her, and am, perhaps, more severe with her than with the rest, but it's because I would make her what I wish her to be. Pardon me, madam, but Anna does not possess the same amount of intellect with her cousin or sister, but by proper culture she will make a fine, intelligent woman."
Mrs. Livingstone hardly relished being told that one child was inferior to the other, but she could not well help herself--Mr. Everett would say what he pleased--and thus the conference ended. From that time Mr.
Everett was exceedingly kind to Anna, wiping away the tears which invariably came when told that she must stay with him in the schoolroom after the rest were gone; then, instead of seating himself in rigid silence at a distance until her task was learned, he would sit by her side, occasionally smoothing her long curls and speaking encouragingly to her as she poured over some hard rule of grammar, or puzzled her brains with some difficult problem in Colburn. Ere long the result of all this became manifest. Anna grew fonder of her books, more ready to learn, and--more willing to be kept after school!
Ah, little did Mrs. Livingstone think what she was doing when she bade young Malcolm Everett make her warm-hearted, impulsive daughter _think_ he liked her!
ROSA V. JEFFREY
Mrs. Rosa Vertner Jeffrey, one of the most beautiful of Kentucky women, whose personal loveliness has caused some critics to forget she was a gifted poet, was born at Natchez, Mississippi, in 1828, the daughter of John Y. Griffith, a writer of considerable reputation in his day. Her mother died when she was but nine months old, and she was reared by her aunt. When Rosa was ten years of age her adopted parents removed to Lexington, Kentucky, where she was educated at the Episcopal Seminary. In 1845 Miss Vertner--she had taken the name of her foster parents--was married to Claude M. Johnson, a wealthy citizen of Lexington, and she at once took her place as a great social and literary leader. One of her sons, Mr. Claude M. Johnson, was mayor of Lexington for several years, and he was afterwards in the service of the United States government. In 1861 Mrs. Johnson's husband died, and she removed to Rochester, New York, where she resided for two years, when she was married to Alexander Jeffrey, of Edinburgh, Scotland, and they returned to Lexington, her home for the remainder of her life. Mrs. Jeffrey died at Lexington, Kentucky, October 6, 1894, and no woman has yet arisen in Kentucky to take her position as society's favorite beauty and poet. She began her literary career as a contributor of verse to Prentice's _Louisville Journal_. Her pen-name was "Rosa," and under this name her first volume of poems was published, entitled _Poems, by Rosa_ (Boston, 1857). This was followed by _Florence Vale_; _Woodburn_, a novel; _Daisy Dare and Baby Power_ (Philadelphia, 1871), a book of poems; _The Crimson Hand and Other Poems_ (Philadelphia, 1881), her best known work; and _Marah_ (Philadelphia, 1884), a novel. Mrs. Jeffrey was also the author of a five-act comedy, called _Love and Literature_. As a novelist or playwright she did nothing especially strong, but as a writer of pleasing poems her place in the literature of Kentucky seems secure.
BIBLIOGRAPHY. _History of Kentucky_, by R. H. Collins (Covington, Kentucky, 1882); _The Register_ (Frankfort, January, 1911).
A GLOVE
[From _The Crimson Hand and Other Poems_ (Philadelphia, 1881)]
In a box of airy trifles--fans, flowers, and ribbons gay-- I chanced to find a tasselled glove, worn once on the first of May.
How long ago? Ah me, ah me! twelve years, twelve years today!
Alas! for that beautiful, fragrant time, so far in the past away, And crowned with sweeter memories than any other May, Standing alone, in a checkered life--it was my wedding day!
The passing hours were shod with light, and their glowing sandals made Such sunny tracks that they guide me yet through a retrospect of shade.
Through changes and shadows of twelve long years, down that love-lit path I stray; The winters come and the winters go, yet it leads to an endless May.
No leaves of the autumn have fallen there, and never a flake of snow Has chilled the path of those May-day hours that gleam through the long ago!
The flowering cherry's wild perfume came stealing, bitter sweet, From fragrant breezes drifting heaps of blossoms to my feet; The flowers are dust, but the bees that bore their subtle sweets away Dropped golden honey on the path of that beautiful first of May.
And the sweetness clings, for I gather it in wandering back today.
Twelve years! twelve years!--a long, long life for a little tasselled glove!
Yet, I treasure it still for his dear sake who clasped with so much love The hand that wore, on that festal night, this delicate, dainty thing-- His forever! bound to him by the link of a wedding ring!
The glove is soiled and faded now, but the ring is as bright today As the love that flooded my life with light on that beautiful first of May.
A MEMORY
[From the same]
A memory filled my heart last night With all its youthful glow; Under the ashes, out of my sight, I buried it long ago; I buried it deep, I bade it rest, And whispered a long "good-by;"
But lo! it has risen--too sweet, too blest Too cherished a thing to die.
In the dim, dim past, where the shadows fall, I left it, but, crowned with light, A spirit of joy in the banquet-hall, It haunted my soul last night.
One earnest, tender, passionate glance-- I cherished it--that was all, As we drifted on through the mazy dance To a musical rise and fall.
It rose with a weird and witching swell, 'Mid the twinkling of merry feet, And clasped me close in a wild, strange spell Of memories bitter-sweet; Bitter--because they left a sting And vanished: a lifelong pain; Sweet--because nothing can ever bring Such joy to my heart again.
To me it was nothing, only a waltz; To the other it meant no wrong; Men may be cruel--who are not false-- And women remember too long.
SALLIE R. FORD
Mrs. Sallie Rochester Ford, the mother of good _Grace Truman_, was born at Rochester Springs, near Danville, Kentucky, in 1828. Miss Rochester was graduated from the female seminary at Georgetown, Kentucky, in 1849, and six years later she was married to Rev. Samuel H. Ford (1823-1905), a Baptist preacher and editor of Louisville and St. Louis. She was her husband's associate in his literary enterprises, rendering him excellent service at all times. Her last years were spent at St. Louis, in which city she died in February, 1910, having rounded out more than four score years. Mrs. Ford's religious novel, _Grace Truman, or Love and Principle_ (New York, 1857) attracted wide attention in its day, and it was reprinted many times. It was read by thousands of young girls; and ministers descanted upon it in their sermons. While the work sets forth that the Baptist road is the only right of way to heaven, and is sentimental to the core, it is fairly well-written, and it undoubtedly did much good.
A copy of it may be found in almost any collection of Kentucky books.
_Grace Truman_ was followed by _Mary Bunyan_ (New York, 1859); _Morgan and His Men_ (Mobile, Ala., 1864); _Ernest Quest_ (New York, 1877); _Evangel Wiseman_ (1907); and Mrs. Ford's final work, published at St.
Louis, _The Life of Rochester Ford, the Successful Christian Lawyer_.
BIBLIOGRAPHY. _How I Came to Write "Grace Truman: An Appendix_ to the 1886 edition; Adams's _Dictionary of American Authors_ (Boston, 1905).
OUR MINISTER MARRIES
[From _Grace Truman_ (St. Louis, 1886)]
May roses fling abroad their rich fragrance on the evening air! May dews glide noiselessly to the newly awakened earth, and lose themselves in her fresh, green bosom. A soft May moon steals above the eastern horizon, and gilds with radiant luster the brow of night.
Gentle May zephyrs from their airy home glide over the earth, kissing the lips of the rose, and the tender cheek of the hedge-row violet.
Young and tender May leaves whisper to each other tales of love, away, away, in the dark old forests.
And other lips than those of the dancing leaves have whispered tales of love; and mortal ears have heard its sweet low murmurings; and mortal hearts have felt its thrilling inspiration, until the soul, fired beneath its ecstatic power, has tasted of bliss which mortal tongue can never say.
In the hospitable mansion of Mr. Gray, all is excitement and expectancy. She to whom their hearts were so closely wedded, the living, joyous Annie, is tonight to take upon her the marriage vow.
She is to wed the man of her heart's free choice, the object of her pure unsullied love. She is to stand in the presence of God and many witnesses, and promise to love and cherish, yea as long as life shall last, him upon whom she has bestowed her girlhood's fresh full confidence and affection.
The house is brilliantly lighted throughout, and everything bears the testimony of free Kentucky hospitality. 'Tis but the twilight hour--early, yet the guests are fast assembling.
It was a simple yet beautiful and impressive scene--that little group as it stood, while the aged man of God, in a solemn and touching manner, united in indissoluble ties the two warm loving hearts before him. The vailed form of the bride, leaning on the arm of him who was henceforth to be her earthly stay; the calm dignified form, and earnest, we might say, almost holy expression of him who was receiving the precious trust--the bent form, and hoary locks, and tremulous voice of the minister--all conspired to make the scene one of solemn beauty and intense interest.
Congratulations followed, and many were the kisses that pressed the blushing cheek of the happy bride, who, with her vail thrown back from her brow and the color playing over her bright face "like moonlight over streams," looked the very embodiment of grace and loveliness.
Fannie calmly waited till the excitement was measurably over; and then approaching her new cousin, leaning on the arm of Mr. Ray, gave them each a fervent kiss and her warmest wishes for their future happiness.