AUNT PHILLIS’S CABIN.

CHAPTER I.

There would be little to strike the eye of a traveler accustomed to picturesque scenes, on approaching the small town of L——.  Like most of the settlements in Virginia, the irregularity of the streets and the want of similarity in the houses would give an unfavorable first impression.  The old Episcopal church, standing at the entrance of the town, could not fail to be attractive from its appearance of age; but from this alone.  No monuments adorn the churchyard; head-stones of all sizes meet the eye, some worn and leaning against a shrub or tree for support, others new and white, and glistening in the sunset.  Several family vaults, unpretending in their appearance, are perceived on a closer scrutiny, to which the plants usually found in burial-grounds are clinging, shadowed too by large trees.  The walls where they are visible are worn and discolored, but they are almost covered with ivy, clad in summer’s deepest green.  Many a stranger stopped his horse in passing by to wonder at its look of other days; and some, it may be, to wish they were sleeping in the shades of its mouldering walls.

The slight eminence on which the church was built, commanded a view of the residences of several gentlemen of fortune who lived in the neighborhood.  To the nearest one, a gentleman on horseback was directing his way.  The horse required no direction, in truth, for so accustomed was he to the ride to Exeter, and to the good fare he enjoyed on arriving there, that neither whip nor spur was necessary; he traced the familiar road with evident pleasure.

The house at Exeter was irregularly built; but the white stone wings and the look-out over the main building gave an appearance of taste to the mansion.  The fine old trees intercepted the view, though adding greatly to its beauty.  The porter’s lodge, and the wide lawn entered by its open gates, the gardens at either side of the building, and the neatness and good condition of the out-houses, all showed a prosperous state of affairs with the owner.  Soon the large porch with its green blinds, and the sweetbrier entwining them, came in view, and the family party that occupied it were discernible.  Before Mr. Barbour had reached the point for alighting from his horse, a servant stood in readiness to take charge of him, and Alice Weston emerged from her hiding-place among the roses, with her usual sweet words of welcome.  Mr. Weston, the owner of the mansion and its adjoining plantation, arose with a dignified but cordial greeting; and Mrs. Weston, his sister-in-law, and Miss Janet, united with him in his kind reception of a valued guest and friend.