The Bloomfield times. [volume], July 22, 1873, Page 2, Image 2

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Ije imcfl, Nero Bloomficft, )a.
Miss Fortescue the Seamstress,
fortuneTchanges.
tTTIIO Is that lady, Miss Dunbar?
T T She has a very sweet face."
The interrogator was a young gentleman
who had made an early evening call on the
lady mentioned. The person to whom he
referred was on the point of taking her
, leave as he entered. 1
. " The young lady,'' said Miss Dunbar,
slightly emphasizing the noun substantive,
"has been working for me a seamstress."
" A seamstress I Upon my word, I should
not have suspected it !" said the young
man. "That accounts, no doubt, for the
excellent taste displayed in her dress. And
yet, from the slight observation I had of
her, thbre was an ease in her manner, an
air of refinement, one would not look for
in a person of her calling."
" Really, Mr. Stanley, you are quite ob
serving !" remarked the lady, with a light
laugh. ' "As Miss Fortescue ' is generally
employed in the first circles, she may have
- acquired a certain degree of polish, although
I have not noticed that she differed from
the generality of girls of her class, whose
greatest ambition seems to be to ape the
manners and copy the style of dress of
those who move in the highest walks of
life." .
A furtive smile flickered for a moment on
the young man's face at this characteristic
remark, as he said in reply: ,,...!
" Your remark may apply to some," said
the young man, " but I caunot think it
will to all. This liss Fortescue, J think
you said was her name she certainly ex
hibited noue of that vulgar affectation of
which you speak at least I detected
none." ,
"O, she may possibly be an exception. I
have not observed her particularly, but I
dare say a close scrutiny would discover
the usual alloy."
' " And in whom of us may not alloy be
found, Miss Dunbar? Rarely, very raily,
' will you find the the pure metal. . In the
best there is always some bascadmixturo."
"What are you discussing with such
grave earnestness?" said a young lady,
dressed in the height of fashion, as she en
tered the room. "I heard something
about 'metals' and 'alloys,' which sounded
very much like one of Professor 's
lectures."
" We were discussing the characters of
dressmakers," said youug Stanley, with a
mock-serious tone. , . ,
"A very recondite subject, truly 1"
laughed the young lady. "Do not let me
interrupt you." ' " '
11 Tir - i l ' i ' ' i
iv d uuu just commenced as you enter
ed, Miss Gates," remarked Miss Dunbar.
'."Pray proceed, I beg of you. But
apropoe, rattled on the young lady, " I
met my lady Fortescue just around the
corner. What grand airs she puts on, to
be sure t One would never suspect that
she belongs to the working classes. By
the by, Miss Dunbar, my errand was to
secure her after you have done with her,
but she informed me that she does not'in
tend to go ' out hereafter, and if we want
her services we must wait upon ber at her
own house the idea !"
"Insufferable I" exclaimed the young
gentleman, smothering an inclination to
laughter.
You spoke of airs put on by Miss For
tescue, said he," wishing to draw the lady
out - "I must confess that! thought her
very unassuming. Her manners appeared
natural, easy, and wholly free from affecta
.. tion." .
'.' Well, perhaps I should not consider
her deportmeut exceptionable in one in a
different sphere of life,",; replied .Miss
Gttte'', ,'....'..
"Pardon me, Miss Gates, but I fail to
perceive why the deportmeut which would
be perfectly proper in say Miss Dunbar,
or yourself, for instance should be so of
fensive in Miss Fortescue."
In the meanwhile, she who had given
rise to the discussion recorded in the last
chapter, was proceeding on her homeward
way with a light step and buoyant heart
more light and more buoyant by far than
in the early days of her work life. ' A smil
ing expression lighted up her features as if
some pleasant thought was nestling in her
heart, lending an additional . charm to ber
rare beauty. Occasionally a , low snatch of
song, a strain here and there of some favor
ice melody, would ripple from her lips as if
she were surcharged with music. : Her
step, her carriage, every movement be
trayed a natural grace. There was not the
slightest approach to affectation to be dis
covered , in either. The "grand airs"
spoken of , by Miss Gates, existed only in
that lady's imagination, or the disparaging
remark was prompted solely from envy or
The appearance of the youug dressmaker
could not fail to attract the admiring atten
tion of the most casual observer. The
most .critical could And uotbiog iu it to
cavil at. There was a total absence of
everything like meretricious display. Tbs
material of her dress were of the simplest
kind, but she possessed one of those ao
4 commodating forms that rendered what
ever she wore becoming to her, and she
bad the rare taste which make the most
ordinary attire attractive. Borne ladies, let
them be as painstaking as they will, how
ever prodigal may be their means and ap
pliances, lamontably fail to produce a
pleasing effoct They never appear well
dressed. Otbors, and Miss Fortescue was
a noticeable instance, meagre as may be
their toilet, and slight the care bestowed
upon it, win at once our admiration by the
fitting and harmonious adjustment of their
apparel. No part of it seems incongruous,
nothing is out of place. The effoct
wrought seems something more than the
accomplishment of mere art.
We have said nothing of the antecedents
of our heroine. An instance cited by
Frederick Stanley was in nearly every par
ticular the counterpart of the experience of
Alice Fortescue. . She had . been tenderly
reared; until the death of her father she
had enjoyed alAhe advantages wealth could
bestow. The host of educational privileges
had been hers, and she - had not slighted
them, nor had she negloctcd those graceful
accomplishments which lend such a charm
to the femal character. All her life, until
the ' shadow fell across her path, she had
mingled in What is somewhat ambiguously
styled " jfiie best society" society in
which it is very doubtful if Miss Gates
would be tolerated. ' '
In an evil hour ber father's fortune sud
denly disappeared. . A commercial crisis
swept over the land, leaving in its wak
wreck and ruin. The tempest burst when
Mr. Fortescue was prostrated on a bed of
sickness. The , blow fell upon him with
crushing effect. He was not in a condition
to secure a remnant of his hardly-acquired
property for his wife and child, and he
died leaving them wholly unprovided for.
There was no singularity In his case. There
have been untold numbers of such misfor
tunes in the past they are of daily occur
rence and there will be continual sad rep
etitions of them in the future.
Fortunately, Mrs. Fortescue possessed a
limited fortune in her own right a neat
cottage-like tenement in a suburban town,
and a small sum of money, a mere pittance,
but sufficient for the time being to keep
the wolf from the door. To this compara
tively humble abode she removed soon after
the death of her husband. The change
from vthe palatial mansion, her late city
residence, was indood great, but she ac
commodated herself to her altered circum
stances with an unrepinlng spirit. On her
daughter's account, more than on her own,
she regretted the changes that had taken
place. For herself life had but little to of
fer. A few more years and she would be
relieved from all worldy care. But the
thought of leaving Alice unprovided for,
at times cast a shadow upon her spirits.
. At the time of her father's death Alioe
was just entering her seventeenth year.
Iu her grief for her loss, she was scarcely
conscious of the reverse of fortune that had
befallen them. When, however, in course
of time, the sad truth gradually dawned
upon her, instead of yielding to desponden
cy she aroused herself to meet the exigency
with an unquniling spirit. : The occasion
brought into action the latent forces of her
character. . From the pampered pet of the
household she suddenly developed into a
noble, self-sustaining, energetio woman,
willing for any sacrifice and prompt for any
required duty. She insisted upon assum
ing tasks from which her mother would
fain have relieved her, and she entered
upon their performance with such a cheer
fulness of spirit and such ready aptness as
to immeasurably lighten her toil and dispel
its irksomeness. That she felt the change
in her condition, and keenly, too, at times,
cannot he denied; but with a strength of
character remarkable in one so young, and
so delicately nurtured as she bad been, she
forced her thoughts away from the past,
and with a brave fortitude disciplined her
self to submit ' without a murmur to ber
lot. "
A time soon arrived which put her reso
lution to the test. Their scanty means
were nearly exhausted, and with gloomy
forebodings Mrs. Fortescue looked forward
to the period when actual want would stare
them in the face. ' The good woman now
reproached herself as she surveyed her
scantily furnished dwelling, and thought
how this, that and the other article, pur
chased before she fully realized her im
poverished condition before she had learn
ed the full value of money might have
been dispensed with. It is true that their
separate cost bad been insignificant, but the
aggregate amounted to a sum she now felt
she was illy able to spare. To one who
has had the command of unlimited means
there is no lesson more difficult to learn
than that of rigid economy.
She. sought counsel of her daughter in
stead of a kurden she had begun to look
upon Alice as a support and suggested
the propriety of disposing of such articles
as were not absolutely needed.
, " No, dear mother," said Alice, ." let us
keep them. They would bring us in but
the merest trifle, and we might as well
throw them away." ,
, "But, my child," said the mother, In
tones of sadness, "our means are nearly
gone. Something must be done to replen
ish them."
" Listen to me, mother," and there was
enoouragement In the tones and looks of
the young girl. " I have a project which I
trust will afford us relief. ' Why may I not
give lessons in music on the plauo or in
singing?" '
"My dear child, 'what do you know
about teaching ?"
" I know that I hav6 no experience as a
teacher, mother, but I have been taught,
and I think I can soori acquire the art. As
for my qualifications, it would be a reproach
to me, after so much had been expended
on my musical education, if I were not
competent. I have the vanity to boliove
that I am, and that, you know, mother
dear, is one-half the battlo."
, Having fresh in her memory her late life
of afli uency'and luxurious ease, remember
ing also how her daughter had boon
brought up, with every want supplied, with
not a wish ungratified, it was not strange,
nay, it was very natural, that Mrs. Fortes
cue should "at first view" the proposal of
Alice with some degree of repugnance.
But her own good sense, backed up by the
heroic arguments of her daughter and in
her cast they were heroic at last overcame
this feeling, and reluctantly brought her to
entertain and finally sanction the project.
This point settled, the next was to Ob
tain pupils. To this task Alioe immediate
ly applied herself. Unfortunately, hor
sanguine hopes were doomed to an early
disappointment. She found the field al
ready fully occupied. Teachers of long
standing had monopolized all the scholars.
One or two only could be secured, not suf
ficient to make the business an object. -
Disappointed but not disheartened at
ber failure, Alice had another proposition
to offer. , , ,,
" You once complimented me, mother,"
she urged, " on my expertnoss with the
needle. Now I have ascertained that there
is quite a demand for this kind of work,
that it is remunerative, and why should we
hesitate to perform it ?"
" To think we should be reduced to such
a strait 1" sighed Mrs. Fortescue, with a
very pardonable show of distaste.
" It is hard," said Alice, " but is it not
something worse than folly to indulge in
such reflections? As we are compelled to a
humble diet," she added, with alight
laugh, " the sooner we commence eating it
the sooner we shall become used to it. I
dare say, after a while, we shall come to
relish it very well T'
Alice spoke thus lightly, not that she did
not fully sympathize in her mother's feel
ingsnot that she did not feel keenly tho
position in which they were placed but
she did it in part to give, if possible, a
cheerful tone to her mother's spirits, and
partly to cloak the emotions warring in her
own breast. , Mrs. Fortescue at once d ivin
ed her motive, and folding hor in a warm
embrace, she said, with much feeling:' '.
"The sacrifice, my dear daughtor, will
be a thousand fold more hard to be endur
ed on your part than on mine; therefore. do
as you will, and may Heaven reward you
for your filial devotion I" , , .
It was not long before mother and daugh
ter found plenty of employment, and the
hungry wolf prowling at the door took his
departure. If the elite of the place were
not disposed to associate with Mrs. and
Miss Fortesoue, they were very ready to
bestow upon them their patronage. With
this the latter were well content. They
were not ambitious to mingle with those
who assumed to rank higher in the social
scale, and they were too well versod in
way of the world to resent their exclu
sion. It was a blessed thing for Alice that she
was one who possessed a hopeful, cheerful
disposition, and who i preferred rather to
bosk on the sunny than grope on the shady
side of life. Many placed in her situation
would have made themselves miserable by
contrasting their present with their former
condition. But she wisely eutombed the
past, and successfully resisted any inclina
tion to exhume it. She would not permit
herself to indulge in repining, kuowing
well now useless they were, and what evils
they wrought, both, mental and physical.
She instituted a strict guard over her feel
ings, and whenever she experienced a ten
dency to despondency, she combat tod it
with a firm determination to overcome it;
and such was her strength of resolve, that
she at last achieved that most difficult of
all conquests, victory over self.
Hence it was that you seldom found a
shadow upon her brow. Hence it was that
ber features always wore a pleasstit, sunny
expression, the reflex of a contented mind.
We are aware we are portraying a very
perfect character, but do not think it has
not its prototype in life.
It was not customary with Alice to make
engagements away from home.. If ber ser
vices were required the work was brought
to the house. This wsjs the general under
standing. Still, in a few instances, and on
special occasions, .she had been induced to
deviate from this rule. She bad done so
for . Miss Dunbar. . But her experience
there led to a resolve that it should be the
last engagement abroad.
What those experiences were she would
have found it difficult to explain had she
been questioned on the subject. Miss Dun
bar was very polite ; in fact, she rattier
overdid the matter was too lavish of. her
courtesy. There was an evident lack of
sincerity in ber affability, which neutraliz
ed all her efforts to . rendor herself agree
able, , In her manners she was very lady
like, yet there was a certain Indefinable
something in her demeanor which seemed
iutended to make Alice sensible of the dif
ference in their stations. There was no
thing in her manner openly offensive, no
thing which one could resent, and that
made it all the more annoying. Alice was
quick to perceive anything of this nature,
and although sho would not permit it to
ruffle her, she determined that hereafter
she would not subject hor forbearance to
any such tests. ; , ' j
Whatevor annoyance Alice may have ex
perienced at Miss Dunbar's, the cheerful
frame of mind in which she returned from
her day's labor conclusively indicated that
she did not permit them to crowd her buu
ny disposition. Her happy mood,however,
was principally inspired from the fact that
a long cherished wish was on the eve of
boing gratified.
One of the greatest deprivations to which
she had been . subjected by the reverse of
fortune was tho loss of her piano, and from
the moment she found that success would
crown her efforts in the new occupation
in which she had engaged, she resolved to
replace it. For this purpose she devoted a
portion of her earnings, snsh as could be
conveniently spared. So numerous had
been the calls for her Service, and , so in
dustriously had she applied herself, that
the requsite sum had boen aoquired much
sooner than she had hoped for.
. On her way to Miss Dunbar's in the
morning of the day the reader was intro
duced to hef, sho had ordered an instru
ment, previoBly selected, to be sent to the
house. It was the pleasing anticipation of
again being able to indulge hertaste for
musio that lightened her stop and flooded
her heart with melody as she hastened
homoward in the evening, after accom
plishing a few errands on hor route. ,
" Has it come, " mother doar?"' was hor
first eager inquiry as she entored the house.
"Yes, my child it is in the next room,"
responded the mother with a gratified
smile. ' ' V
Without waiting to remove her outer
dress,' tho delighted girl hastened to the
parlor, and soon her fingers were busily
and lovingly employed among the ivory
keys.
Although the ' instrument fell far short
of the one she formerly used a dicker
ing grand yet never before it seemed to
her, did keys respond so perfectly to her
touch, never before did she elicit such
richness and brilliance of tone. Most as
suredly, never before did ber voice gush
forth more molodcously, never before ex
press such deep pathos, thau when, after a
brief preludo, she ' commenced . an " Ave
Maria" of Schumann's. There was no
striving for effects, no trickery of execu
tion.' She poured out her' wholo soul in
the rendering, as if inspired, as indeed
she was, by the very spirit of the illustrious
composer. ' ' ' 1 '
Hor mother listentod with tearful eyes to
the performance. Since tho doath of Alico's
father she had not heard her daughter
sing, and the sound of her voice again in
song brought vividly beforo her scenes of
the past. Sho strove, howover, to conceal
her emotions, and when the pioco was fin
ished, she said :
" It seems good my dear daughter, to
hear your voice again."
" Does it make you sad, mother?" asked
Alice, who at once perceived tho effect hor
singing had produced.
"Sad, my child, but not sorrowful," re
plied Mrs. Fortescue. "Musio of a char
actor like that you have just performed,
you know, always thus affects me."
It is curious to observe how slight aro tho
causes that apparently ofteu give a col
oring to all our after lifei It may be a
word spoken, an act almost unconsciously
performed, themceting or not meeting
with a particular poison, a visit . made or a
visit deferred to somo place, a letter mis
directed or not sent something as trival
as either of these occurrences not unfre
quoutly works an entire change, for good or
for evil, in our destiny, so that, uuless we
have faith that we ate governed by some
thing besides blind chance, we might con
clude that wo wei o tho veriest sports of an
accident. '
Mrs. Fortescue was not the sole listener
to hor daughter's performance. Was it
chance or was it Alice's good genius that
directed the steps of a gentleman towards
the cottage just as she commenced ? The
windows were open, and ' as he arrived
abreast of them her rich full tones swelled
out npon the evening air. Pausing in his
walk, the unseen auditor stood as if en
tranced, resuming his way only when the
last note died away, and a movoment in
the room indicated that the singer had loft
the instrument.
A few days after the incident just men
tioned, on returning from an engagement
at Mis Dunbar's and Alioe congratulated
herself that the visit was a final one to
her surprise hor mother handed her a loiter
left by the postman. Whom could It be
from? She hold .no correspondence with
a single being. She examined the hand
willing and the address, scrutinized the
the post mark, puzzliug over them as some
people would on receiving au unexpected
letter before they break the seal, . . ,
Whou at last, the missive was opened
and her eye had glanoed over its contents,
a Joyful exclamation burst from ber lips. ,
.".What is it, my child ?" asked Mrs.
Fortescue, with unconcealed Interest. .
"Listen, I will read it to you, mother."
And Alice hastily repeated the content of
the note. '
It was from a gentleman, an entire
strangor, who signed himself as chairman
of the musio committee of G
Street Church, one of the largest and
wealthiest churches in the place. Its pur
port was, that the soprano of the choir,
composed of a quartet, had recently left,
and Alioe was invited to fill the vacancy,
The present salary was fOOO a year, but
possibly it might be raised hereafter. A'
rehearsal would take place on Saturday
evening, and if she had concluded to accept
the situation, he would call and accompany
her to the church for the purpose of in
troduced her to the other members of the
choir. . ' . '
" Think of it mother 1" exclaimed he
delighted girl, after having read the note;
"six hundred dollars a yearl Double
what we earn, plodding . all day with the
needle I",
" But is there no mistake ? Are you
sure the letter 1b intended for you?" asked '
the mother scarcely loss exoilod than the
tf'V. ....... ...
' "Yes, see ' here, It is plainly written,
'Miss Alice Fortescue, L Street.'
A blessing on the one who wrote it I"
" But who can it be? , Who knows any
thing about your musical abilities ?" asked
Mrs. Fortescue.
" It is all a mystery to me," replied
Alice. , " No one but you has heard me
sing in this place. Whoever he Is, a bless
ing on him, I repeat I No more work for '
you, mother dear 1 No more wearing your
eyes out stitching, stitching from morn
ing to night 1" And in the exuberance of
her joy the happy girl fondly caressed hor
parent.
"Are you confident, my child," asked
Mrs. Fortescue, after the excitemeut pro
duced by the reception of the note had in
a measure subsided, " that you are capable
of filling the situation ?" ,
" Why, you kuow mother, my teacher
often spoke of my 'extraordinary faoility,'
as he styled it, for reading music. Now
that performed in church certainly cannot
be very difficult, and I have not the slight
est fear on that score. As for my voice
you are the best judge of its quality.
" I have no doubt but what it will give
perfect satisfaction ; still, I shall feel some
anxiety until I know you have stood tho
test," was the mother's reply.
' Alice at once despatched a note accept
ing the position, in wlich she inserted a
proviso, that, if on trial, her performance
was not satisfactory, the committee was at
liberty to cancel the engagoment. " '
She now awaited the evening of rehearsal
in no small flutter of excitement. Usually,
she held her feelings under strict control ;
but the occasion to hor was a momentous
ono, and it was not to be marvellod at that
she looked forward to it with on unwonted
degree of interest. Continued.
Strange Incidents, but True.
The Treuton, N. J., True Democrat
says :
We knew a place in our childhood, called
"Deadmau's Den" where a small coach bad
been robbed and a number of passengers
murdored. That place was pointed out as
one where no grass would grow; and when
we saw it, after our thinking powers were
matured, it was in the same condition as
when we first looked on it in our boyhood
days.
A foolish man undertook to carry a sack
of wheat, five bushels, from tho village of
of Penn iu the county of Bucks, in Eng
land, the village boing named after Wil
liam Penn who founded Pennsylvania.
The destination was Totteridge. When
nearly up the hill to the lost named village,
the man fell dead. The hill has since boen
called "Break Heart Hill," and on tho
spot where the man fell no grass has grown
since.
Another instance of grass not growing
where a fatality occurred, before we intro
duco the subject which calls forth the re
marks : " Pond Riding" is a place where
a mail coach, horses, driver, guard and
passengers went down one dark night.
All humanity on that coach that wild
night were drowned, as wero also the
horses. Down the bunk where the coach
wont into Pond Riding, no grass grows.
The above are all from our actual knowl
edge of superstitions, have all been seen
by us and sure enough the bare spots ap
pear to verify the suporstitions.'
Now we come nearer home. Supersti
tition has as littlo to do with our mental
make-up as with that of any mind, and
we only give the following, for thought
for those who do sometimes wonder how
the mysteries are woven with those circum
stances which are within our oomprehen
sion. On Nov. 13, 1803, James Roland was
murdered at Princeton by James Lewis,
and the body cast Into Princeton Cem
etery. Lewis su fib red the death penalty
for his orime'at Mercer Jail in 18G3. Iu
the cemetery, where the murdored man's
head was forced into the ground, by the
force of the blows from the club used by
the murderer, no grass has- grown since ;
and Mr. Peter Nolan, the sexon at the
time of the murder and ever sinoe, says
there has not been anything done to pre
vent the growth of the grass at that spot.
Mora than that ; blood from the murdered
man, in the fearful struggle for life, was
scattered ou a tombstone which bears the
name of Edward Hunt, and has left black
marks, which remain unto this day.
Peter Nolau, the sexon, was one of those
who found ths body of Rowland in the cem
etery after the murder had been committed,
and ho vouches for the truth of the state
ment we have made.
Weave fancies as you please try to rea
son to the best of your powers ; the state
ments above are given as facts, and with
out attempting explanations or seeking to
unravel cause, we leave the superstitions,
or whatever they may be, In the bald state
in which we bavo given them.
I