The Black-Sealed Letter: Or, The Misfortunes of a Canadian Cockney.Spedon, Andrew Learmont
General
The Black-Sealed Letter: Or, The Misfortunes of a Canadian Cockney.
Spedon, Andrew Learmont
Canadian fiction
Mr. Charlston was about fifty-five years of age, in physical appearance
tall and nervous; with sharp, prominent features, and well-defined head,
denoting energy and perception. His wife was apparently about fifty
years; well proportioned in form and feature, her face expressive of
sensibility and affection. The little furrows around her dark eyes, and
the streaks of gray hairs, had already denoted the footmarks of elder
age; nevertheless, she was still possessed of a considerable share of
that beauty which in her younger years had distinguished her as the
"Belle of Elton," the village in which she had formerly resided. The
daughters in appearance somewhat resembled their mother, the eldest of
whom was then in her twenty-first year. George, the first-born of the
family, was possessed of a robust constitution, of the middle size, and
about twenty-six years of age. Frederick in appearance was the very
_facsimile_ of his father, with all the finer sensibilities of his
mother; yet, apparently possessed of a stern determination of will,
amounting to stubborness when actuated by the impulses of a nervous
temperament. Mr. Charlston was a hatter by trade; and at the time
referred to kept a hat factory of his own in Fleet Street. His industry
had placed him in favorable circumstances. Estimating the value of labor
and intellect, he had given his children a tolerably good education, and
at a proper age had apprenticed his sons to become tradesmen. George
followed the business of his father. Frederick was a cabinet-maker, and
at the time referred to had been two years employed as a journeyman.
Neither Mr. Charlston nor his sons were then addicted to intemperance.
Frederick was a strict teetotaller. Occasionally a bottle of ale was
partaken of by the others; or when an acquaintance visited the house, or
during the Christmas holidays, an additional bottle might be set down to
grace the table. They were, however, a sober and industrious family; and
when the labours of the day were past, they generally gathered around
the household hearth to spend their evenings pleasantly and profitably
to themselves.
On the evening referred to, and whilst Mr. Charlston and family were
engaged in their respective duties, as described, the door bell was
rung. George attended to the signal; and in a few seconds a young man
entered the room, signalizing himself in a very familiar but somewhat
uncouth manner.
"Good evening, Mr. and Mrs. Charlston. How are you Eliza, Amelia, and
Charlotte? and you Frederick, old lad? I didn't see you at work to-day.
I thought something was out of joint with you, and I have come on
purpose to see. Why what's the matter with your neck? You have it
swaddled up as if you were determined to defy the hangman's rope from
ever getting a hold of you," ejaculated Charles Holstrom.
"Oh, I have only caught a bit of a cold in my throat," replied
Frederick; "come Charlie, take a seat by my side and give us your latest
news about town."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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