FERNBOROUGH.
Five years passed away, years of not unmixed happiness for any of those with whom this story has made us acquainted. Quincy and Alice had undergone a severe trial in the loss of two of the three little ones that had been born to them; the remaining child was a fair little boy, another Quincy, and upon him the bereaved parents lavished all the wealth of their tenderness and affection.
In his political life, however, Quincy had found only smooth and pleasant sailing, and thanks to his bright and energetic nature, and not a little, perhaps, to his father's name and influence, he had risen rapidly from place to place and honor to honor. One of his earliest political moves had been the introduction of a bill into the House for the separation of Mason's Corner and Eastborough into individual communities.
Soon after the incorporation of the former town under its new name of Fernborough, Abbot Smith, at Quincy's suggestion, had started the Fernborough Improvement Association, and now after these few years, the result of its labors was plainly and agreeably apparent. The ruins of Uncle Ike's chicken coop had been removed, and grass covered its former site. Shade trees had been planted along all the principal streets, for the new town had streets instead of roads. The three-mile road to Eastborough Centre had been christened Mason Street, and the square before Strout & Maxwell's store had been named Mason Square. Mrs. Hawkins's boarding house had become a hotel, and was known as the Hawkins House. The square before the church was called Howe's Square, in honor of the aged minister. The old Montrose road was now dignified by the appellation of Montrose Avenue. The upper road to Eastborough Centre that led by the old Putnam house was named Pettengill Street, although Ezekiel protested that it was a "mighty poor name for a street, even if it did answer all right for a man." The great square facing Montrose Avenue, upon which the Town Hall and the Chessman Free Public Library had been built, was called Putnam Square. On three sides of it, wide streets had been laid out, on which many pretty houses had been erected. These three streets had been named Quincy Street, Adams Street, and Sawyer Street.
It was the morning of the fifteenth of June, a gala day in the history of the town. The fifth anniversary of the laying of the corner stone of the Town Hall and the library was to be commemorated by a grand banquet given in the Town Hall, and was to be graced by many distinguished guests, among them the Hon. Quincy Adams Sawyer and wife, and Mrs. Ella Chessman. After the banquet, which was to take place in the evening, there was to be an open-air concert given, followed by a grand display of fireworks. During the feast, the citizens were to be admitted to the galleries, so that they could see the guests and listen to the speeches.
About ten o'clock the visiting party started off to view the sights of the town. Under the leadership of the town officers they turned their steps first towards the new library. On entering this handsome building, they observed hung over the balcony, facing them, a large oil painting of a beautiful dark-haired, dark-eyed woman, dressed in satin and velvet and ermine, and having a coronet upon her head. Underneath was a tablet bearing an inscription.
"An admirable portrait," said Quincy to his wife. "Can you read the tablet, dear? I fear I shall really have to see Dr. Tillotson about my eyes."
Alice smiled at the allusion, and directing her gaze upon it, read without the slightest hesitation: "Linda Putnam, once a resident of this town, now Countess of Sussex, and donor of this library building, which is named in honor of her father, Charles Chessman, only brother of Robert Chessman."
During the evening festivities the Town Hall was brilliantly lighted, and every seat in the galleries and coigns of vantage were occupied. The guests at the banquet numbered fully sixty. A Boston caterer, with a corps of trained waiters, had charge of the dinner. During its progress the Cottonton Brass Band performed at intervals. They were stationed in Putnam Square, and the music was not an oppressive and disturbing element, as it often is at close range on such occasions.
When coffee was served, Toastmaster Obadiah Strout, Esq., arose, and the eyes of banqueters and sightseers were turned toward him.
"This is a glorious day in the history of our town," the toastmaster began, "The pleasant duty has fallen to me of proposing the toasts to which we shall drink, and of introducing our honored guests one by one. I know that words of advice and encouragement will come from them. But before I perform the duties that have been allotted to me, it is my privilege to make a short address. Instead of doing so, I shall tell you a little story, and it will be a different kind of a story from what I have been in the habit of telling."
This remark caused an audible titter to arise from some of the auditors in the galleries, and Abner Stiles, who was sitting behind Mrs. Hawkins, leaned over and said to her, "I guess he's goin' to tell a true story."
The toastmaster continued: "More than six years ago a young man from the city arrived in this town. It was given out that he came down here for his health, but he wasn't so sick but that he could begin to take an active part in town affairs as soon as he got here. They say confession is good for the soul, and I'm goin' to confess that I didn't take to this young man. I thought he was a city swell, who had come down here to show off, and in company with several friends, who looked at his visit down here about the same as I did, we did all we could for a couple of months to try and drive him out of town. Now I am comin' to the point that I want to make. If we had let him alone the chances are that he wouldn't have stayed here more than a month any way. Now, s'posen he had gone home at the end of the month; in that case he never would have met the lady who sits by his side to-night, and who by her marriage has added new lustre to her native town. If he had not remained, she never would have written those stories which are known the world over, and I tell you, fellow-citizens, that in writing Blennerhassett, An American Countess, The Majesty of the Law, and The Street Boy, she has done more to make this town famous than all the men who were ever born in it."
The speaker paused and drank a glass of water, while cheers and applause came from all parts of the gallery. Abner Stiles apparently forgot his surroundings, and, thinking probably that it was a political rally, called out, "Three cheers for Alice Pettengill"! which were given with a will, much to his delight, and the surprise of the banqueters.
The toastmaster resumed: "If he had gone away disgusted with the town and its people, he never would have found out who Linda Putnam really was, and she, consequently, would never have been what she is to-day, a peeress of England and the great benefactress of this town, a lady who will always have our deepest affection and most sincere gratitude."
Again the orator paused, and the audience arose to its feet. Applause, cheers, and the waving of handkerchiefs attested that the speaker's words had voiced the popular feeling. Once more Abner Stiles's voice rose above the din, and three cheers for "Lindy Putnam, Countess of Sussex," were given with such a will that the band outside caught the enthusiasm and played "God Save the Queen," which most of the audience supposed was "America."
"In conclusion," said the orator, "I have one more point to make, and that is a purely personal one. Some writer has said the end justifies the means, and another writer puts it this way, 'Do evil that good may come.' In these two sayin's lies all the justification for many sayin's and doin's that can be found; and if I were a conceited man or one inclined to praise my own actions, I should say that the good fortune of many of our distinguished guests this evening, and the handsome financial backin' that this town has received, are due principally to my personal exertions."
Here the speaker paused again and wiped his forehead, which was bedewed with perspiration.
"Good Lord!" said Mrs. Hawkins to Olive Green, who sat next to her, "to hear that man talk anybuddy would think that nobuddy else in the town ever did anything."
"To conclude," said the speaker, "I don't wish, feller citizens, to have you understand that I am defendin' my actions. They were mean in spirit and mean in the way in which they were done, but the one against whom they were directed returned good for evil, and heaped coals of fire on my head. At a time when events made me think he was my greatest enemy, he became my greatest friend. It is to his assistance, advice, and influence that I owe the present honorable position that I hold in this town, and here to-night, in his presence, and in the presence of you all, I have made this confession to show that I am truly repentant for the past. At the same time, I cannot help rejoicing in the good fortune that those misdeeds were the means of securin' for us all."
As the speaker sat down, overcome with emotion, he was greeted with applause, which was redoubled when Mr. Sawyer arose in his seat. But when Quincy leaned forward and extended his hand to Strout, which the latter took, the excitement rose to fever heat, and cheers for Quincy Adams Sawyer and Obadiah Strout resounded throughout the hall and fell upon the evening air. This time the band played "The Star Spangled Banner."
Again the toastmaster arose and said, "Ladies and gentlemen, the first toast that I am going to propose to-night is a double one, because, for obvious reasons, it must include not only the State, but its chief representative, who is with us here to-night. Ladies and gentlemen, let us drink to the Old Bay State, and may each loyal heart say within itself, 'God save the Commonwealth of Massachusetts!'" The guests touched their lips to their glasses. "And now," continued the toastmaster, "to his Excellency Quincy Adams Sawyer, Governor of the Commonwealth, whom I have the honor of introducing to you."
The Governor arose amid wild applause and loud acclamations, while the band played "Hail to the Chief!"
Hope Hathaway
IS ANOTHER STRONG WESTERN STORY OF MONTANA RANCH
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| MY LADY |
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| LAUGHTER | ||
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| MISS | By DWIGHT TILTON. |
| PETTICOATS | |
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MARJIE
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BY FRANCES PARKER
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Telling an Hitherto Unrevcaled Romance In One of
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TITO
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OVER
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By DWIGHT TILTON, author of
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| NOVELS. | |
| MARJIE of the LOWER RANCH, By Frances Parker. | |
| LOVE STORIES from REAL LIFE, By Mildred Champagne. | |
| MISS PETTICOATS, By Dwight Tilton. | |
| QUINCY ADAMS SAWYER, By Charles Felton Pidgin. | |
| MY LADY LAUGHTER, By Dwight Tilton. | |
| ON SATAN'S MOUNT, By Dwight Tilton. | |
| TITO, By William Henry Carson. | |
| HESTER BLAIR, By William Henry Carson | |
| HOPE HATHAWAY, By Frances Parker. |
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