Grayson Griffith [pp. 605-611]

SOUTHERN LITERARY MESSENGER.
For the Southern Literary Messenger.
GRAYSON GRIFFPITH.
There is in a pleasant part of the Old Dominion, a
thrifty village named Goodcheer. The inhabitants,
from the first settlement of the place, were kind, and
bland, and social. Indeed many of them went further.
They jested, they fiddled, they danced, they sang songs,
they played at cards, they drank wine, they frolicked.
Yet was there among them a strong and steady current
of public opinion against acts of very low and gross
meanness or depravity. They were not liars, or thieves,
or swindlers, or rakes.
In this village lived Gregory Griffith, the tanner,
whose industry and probity earned for him a respectability and an independence rivalled by none except the
old patriarch of the village, more generally known by
the name of the Major. Gregory had married the
eldest daughter of old farmer Ryefield, a woman well
suited to make him happy. Her disposition was easy,
and her habits industrious and economical. They were
a bonny couple.
"The day moved swiftly o'er their heads,
Made up of innocence and love."
Fourteen months after their marriage, their first born
son, a lovely child, smiled in the face of his parents.
Him they called Grayson. Nor was he the only pledge
of their love. They alternately rejoiced over a daughter and a son, until their quiver was full, having four
sons and three lovely daughters. The death of their
second child, who bore her mother's name, had in the
fourth year of their marriage, wrung the bleeding
hearts of these parents, and chastened their feelings to
sober thinking. Between their first born and their third
child lay an interval of nearly five years-a period
which Mr. and Mrs. Griffith always spoke of with deep
emotion.
Grayson, in his childhood, had but feeble health-a
circumstance which secured to him very indulgent
treatment This indulgence rose to excess after the
death of the lovely Martha, his little sister. So soon
after the death of the daughter, as the gay villagers
could with propriety, they planned a general meeting
at Mr. Griffith's. They came, and after some time
spent in sober enjoyment, a game of whist was proposed. The proposal sensibly affected Mrs. Griffith.
She seemed to feel that it was too soon after her babe's
death. The tears started in her eyes, and she sought
a place to weep. She went to her toilet and bathed
her face, and returned with an air of constrained cheerfulness. Meanwhile Mr. Griffith had taken his seat
with a second company who were playing loo. Before
Martha's death, Grayson had been regularly carried to
the nursery, as the sun threw his lowest and latest
beams on the summit of a hill in sight from the portico.
But after the death of his sister, he was encouraged to
spend the evening with his parents; and when overcome by sleep, his cradle and his pillow were the bosom
and the lap of parental fondness. And when company was present, he was often awake until a late hour.
On this evening every one had something to say to
Master Grayson. All the ladies kissed him, and more
than one promised him a daughter for a little sweetheart. WVhen whist and loo became the amusement,
Grayson was much interested, especially when he saw
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his father dealing out. The very beaminess of his eye
seemed to throw a charm around the figures on every
card. At first he said nothing. At last he went to his
mother and said: "Mamma, won't you teach me to do
like papa? 0, I wish sister Martha was not dead, that
she might see the pretties papa has got. Mamma, what
are the papers with the hearts on?" The mention of
Martha's name overcame Mrs. Griffith. She led Grayson to her bed-room, and wept and kissed him until,
overcome by sleep, he forgot his joys and his sorrows
until the next day. The nurse having lodged the sweet
boy in the long crib at the side of his parent's bed,
Mrs. Griffith returned to her company. Either her appearance, or a sense of propriety in her guests, operated
a speedy dissolution of the party. The company being
gone, Mr. Griffith said he wished he had not consented
to play that evening-that Martha had been dead but a
year, and that he really thought that as his child had
been taken to heaven when not two years old, it was
time for him to begin to think of preparing to meet her.
Mrs. Griffith wept at the mention of Martha's name,
repeated what Grayson bad said, observed that she had
felt badly, but that they must not be melancholy. She
also said it was very kind in the neighbors to endeavor
to cheer them up. It was after midnight, in the month
of June, before these parents slept at all. At the very
dawn of day Grayson awoke his parents by kissing
them often, and calling their names aloud. So soon as
he could get his father's attention, he said: "0 father,
what were those pretty things you had in your hand
last night? Father, were they yours? May I have
some? Can't I do as you did with them? Father,
what was you doing? Please, sir, give me some to
carry to school to-day." Mr. Griffith was not displeased that Grayson did not wait for an answer to his interrogatories. To his request for some to carry to school,
he replied that Mr. Birch, the teacher, was a religious
man, and would not let the boys carry such things to
school. Grayson said: "And an't you religious too,
papa?" and kissed him. Mr. Griffith looked at his
wife. They both smiled confusedly.
After breakfast, some of the neighbors called and inquired for the welfare of the family. Some of the ladies
kissed Grayson, as did his mother, and he went to
school. At play-time he told the children what he had
seen, and one of the older boys explained the matter to
the rest of the company. He said the old people loved
fun, and also played for money-and yet they would
not let their boys play. " Never mind," continued he,
"I can make fun, if you will all beg some pins and
bring here to-morrow. Now, fellows, don't forgetbring a good many." The next morning every mother
and sister were faithfully plied for pins, and every boy's
sleeve was brightened with them. Before the teacher
had arrived, the elder boy, before named, had taught
all his juniors two ways of playing pins-one on a hat,
and the other called "heads or points." In a few days
one boy had secured all the pins, and kept them safely
in a little case made of a section of reed. The spirit
of garbling, however, did not expire with the loss of
the pins. Indeed the loss of the many was the gain of
one, and that one was the object of profound admiration.
In a day or two, one of the boys came to school with
an ear of white and another of red corn, and a piece of
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