Not that we were an inhospitable or quarrelsome set of people. On the contrary, we prided ourselves on the possession of the opposite qualities. If there were in the town of Woodbury a model neighborhood, we believed it to be located on Beach Hill. Ours was a very select society, reckoning among its members the clergyman, lawyer, doctor, and editor of the town, and a number of gentlemen of wealth and leisure, as well as some who led the dubious sort of existence called “living by one’s wits.” We assumed, however, no airs of superiority over our townsmen, but were content to manifest our self-complacency by a quietly patronizing manner whenever we met them. In such a community as this, it may be supposed the arrival of a new family was quite an event, particularly as they were about to occupy the best house in the town. The next day I was very busy at home, and had forgotten the coming event, when just at evening Miss Letty made her appearance, every line of her face instinct with news which her tongue was eager to communicate. Miss Letty Brown was the dressmaker _par excellence_ of the town of Woodbury; and though we of the Hill had tried hard to appropriate her, it was found an impossibility, so we were fain to share her services with the inhabitants of the village. She was a cheerful, active little woman, of an uncertain age, with a fresh, breezy atmosphere always about her, which stirred one very pleasantly--a little given to gossip, yet no scandal-monger, but a sincere, earnest Christian, loving God and her fellow-men, and looking persistently on the bright side of every thing. No matter how dark the day, Miss Letty firmly believed in the sunshine behind the clouds, and waited for it to break through. Her services were in constant requisition on every occasion; and as she was brimming over with what the Yankees call “faculty,” nothing that skill and ingenuity could accomplish came amiss to her. Hardly was the neat white sun-bonnet laid aside, when she exclaimed, “Well, it’s really wonderful how things do come about in this world. There’s old Mr. Tyrrell thought he’d cut off his daughter with a shilling, and now her grandson has come into possession of the house and land.” “How is that?” I asked; “is this new family connected with the Tyrrells?” “Oh yes; Aunt Prudence has told me all about it. Mr. Fenton, the gentleman who has bought the property, is the grandson of Emily Tyrrell that was, and he has lived in Alabama a great many years. It seems he is a strong Union man; and when this rebellion broke out, he got into trouble, and has been all this time trying to get away; and now the family have come, but he stays behind to try and save some more of his money. Mrs. Fenton is very sick, and has been for a great while; but there is a grown-up daughter and another young lady, a niece, who is said to be an heiress, and a son, who I rather think is in the rebel army, though there isn’t much said about it.”