The Oaken Cabinet:

And What It Held

Chapter I.

Some five-and-twenty years ago, when I had just been articled to my father, an attorney of good practice in a small country town, the name of which it is of no consequence that the reader should know, he received instructions from one of his principal clients to draw out the settlements for marriage, which created no small sensation amongst those who were acquainted with the contracting parties. Colonel Thorne, the client to whom I allude, was a retired officer, who had served with distinction in the war between America and Great Britain. He was a widower, having one daughter named Laura, the reigning beauty of the county. Being the last descendant of an ancient family, and owning immense estates, it was not strange that he was a proud, reserved man. When I say proud, I do not mean the insolent hauteur of a parvenue; for the pride of Colonel Thorne was not directly perceptible. He could talk familiarly with the lowest peasant on his estate, interest himself in the well-being of the humblest servant in his employ: he could do all this, I say, without for a moment allowing them to think that they were of the same mortality as himself. His kindness was that of an angel to a mortal, of a god to its worshipper, rather than that of a man to a fellow-man. As long as his tenants were humble, voted according to his opinion, and spoke of him as a superior being, they were safe. If their rents were in arrear, we had order to allow them time, and, if required, to give them pecuniary assistance; if in distress, the colonel’s hand was instantly stretched forth to aid them. But once let any one of them… Read More