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Home as Found

by James Fenimore Cooper · English · Gutenberg #10149 · 907,840 chars · public domain (US)

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Title: Home as Found

Author: James Fenimore Cooper


        
Release date: November 1, 2003 [eBook #10149]
                Most recently updated: October 28, 2024

Language: English

Other information and formats: www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10149

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*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HOME AS FOUND ***

Home as Found.

Sequel to "Homeward Bound."

By J. Fenimore Cooper.

Complete in one volume.

1871.





    "Thou art perfect."
                PR. HON





Preface



Those who have done us the favour to read "Homeward Bound" will at
once perceive that the incidents of this book commence at the point
where those of the work just mentioned ceased. We are fully aware of
the disadvantage of dividing the interest of a tale in this manner;
but in the present instance, the separation has been produced by
circumstances over which the writer had very little control. As any
one who may happen to take up this volume will very soon discover
that there is other matter which it is necessary to know it may be as
well to tell all such persons, in the commencement, therefore, that
their reading will be bootless, unless they have leisure to turn to
the pages of Homeward Bound for their cue.

We remember the despair with which that admirable observer of men,
Mr. Mathews the comedian, confessed the hopelessness of success, in
his endeavours to obtain a sufficiency of prominent and distinctive
features to compose an entertainment founded on American character.
The whole nation struck him as being destitute of salient points, and
as characterized by a respectable mediocrity, that, however useful it
might be in its way, was utterly without poetry, humour, or interest
to the observer. For one who dealt principally with the more
conspicuous absurdities of his fellow-creatures, Mr. Mathews was
certainly right; we also believe him to have been right in the main,
in the general tenor of his opinion; for this country, in its
ordinary aspects, probably presents as barren a field to the writer
of fiction, and to the dramatist, as any other on earth; we are not
certain that we might not say the most barren. We believe that no
attempt to delineate ordinary American life, either on the stage, or
in the pages of a novel, has been rewarded with success. Even those
works in which the desire to illustrate a principle has been the aim,
when the picture has been brought within this homely frame, have had
to contend with disadvantages that have been commonly found
insurmountable. The latter being the intention of this book, the task
has been undertaken with a perfect consciousness of all its
difficulties, and with scarcely a hope of success. It would be indeed
a desperate undertaking, to think of making anything interesting in
the way of a _Roman de Société_ in this country; still useful glances
may possibly be made even in that direction, and we trust that the
fidelity of one or two of our portraits will be recognized by the
looker-on, although they will very likely be denied by the sitters
themselves.

There seems to be a pervading principle in things, which gives an
accumulating energy to any active property that may happen to be in
the ascendant, at the time being.--Money produces money; knowledge is
the parent of knowledge; and ignorance fortifies ignorance.--In a
word, like begets like. The governing social evil of America is
provincialism; a misfortune that is perhaps inseparable from her
situation. Without a social capital, with twenty or more communities
divided by distance and political barriers, her people, who are
really more homogenous than any other of the same numbers in the
world perhaps, possess no standard for opinion, manners, social
maxims, or even language.

Every man, as a matter of course, refers to his own particular
experience, and praises or condemns agreeably to notions contracted
in the circle of his own habits, however narrow, provincial, or
erroneous they may happen to be. As a consequence, no useful stage
can exist; for the dramatist who should endeavour to delineate the
faults of society, would find a formidable party arrayed against him,
in a moment, with no party to defend. As another consequence, we see
individuals constantly assailed with a wolf-like ferocity, while
society is everywhere permitted to pass unscathed.

That the American nation is a great nation, in some particulars the
greatest the world ever saw, we hold to be true, and are as ready to
maintain as any one can be; but we are also equally ready to concede,
that it is very far behind most polished nations in various
essentials, and chiefly, that it is lamentably in arrears to its own
avowed principles. Perhaps this truth will be found to be the
predominant thought, throughout the pages of "Home As Found."

Home as Found.

Chapter I.

  "Good morrow, coz. Good morrow, sweet Hero."

  SHAKSPEARE.

When Mr. Effingham determined to return home, he sent orders to his
agent to prepare his town-house in New-York for his reception,
intending to pass a month or two in it, then to repair to Washington
for a few weeks, at the close of its season, and to visit his country
residence when the spring should fairly open. Accordingly, Eve now
found herself at the head of one of the largest establishments, in
the largest American town, within an hour after she had landed from
the ship. Fortunately for her, however, her father was too just to
consider a wife, or a daughter, a mere upper servant, and he rightly
judged that a liberal portion of his income should be assigned to the
procuring of that higher quality of domestic service, which can alone
relieve the mistress of a household from a burthen so heavy to be
borne. Unlike so many of those around him, who would spend on a
single pretending and comfortless entertainment, in which the
ostentatious folly of one contended with the ostentatious folly of
another a sum that, properly directed, would introduce order and
system into a family for a twelvemonth, by commanding the time and
knowledge of those whose study they had been, and who would be
willing to devote themselves to such objects, and then permit their
wives and daughters to return to the drudgery to which the sex seems
doomed in this country, he first bethought him of the wants of social
life before he aspired to its parade. A man of the world, Mr.
Effingham possessed the requisite knowledge, and a man of justice,
the requisite fairness, to permit those who depended on him so much
for their happiness, to share equitably in the good things that
Providence had so liberally bestowed on himself. In other words, he
made two people comfortable, by paying a generous price for a
housekeeper; his daughter, in the first place, by releasing her from
cares that, necessarily, formed no more a part of her duties than it
would be a part of her duty to sweep the pavement before the door;
and, in the next place, a very respectable woman who was glad to
obtain so good a home on so easy terms. To this simple and just
expedient, Eve was indebted for being at the head of one of the
quietest, most truly elegant, and best, ordered establishments in
America, with no other demands on her time than that which was
necessary to issue a few orders in the morning, and to examine a few
accounts once a week.

One of the first and the most acceptable of the visits that Eve
received, was from her cousin, Grace Van Cortlandt, who was in the
country at the moment of her arrival, but who hurried back to town to
meet her old school-fellow and kinswoman, the instant she heard of
her having landed. Eve Effingham and Grace Van Cortlandt were
sisters' children, and had been born within a month of each other. As
the latter was without father or mother, most of their time had been
passed together, until the former was taken abroad, when a separation
unavoidably ensued. Mr. Effingham ardently desired, and had actually
designed, to take his niece with him to Europe, but her paternal
grandfather, who was still living, objected his years and affection,
and the scheme was reluctantly abandoned. This grandfather was now
dead, and Grace had been left with a very ample fortune, almost
entirely the mistress of her own movements.

The moment of the meeting between these two warm-hearted and
sincerely attached young women, was one of great interest and anxiety
to both. They retained for each other the tenderest love, though the
years that had separated them had given rise to so many new
impressions and habits that they did not prepare themselves for the
interview without apprehension. This interview took place about a
week after Eve was established in Hudson Square, and at an hour
earlier than was usual for the reception of visits. Hearing a
carriage stop before the door, and the bell ring, our heroine stole a
glance from behind a curtain and recognized her cousin as she
alighted.

"_Qu'avez-vous, ma chere_?" demanded Mademoiselle Viefville,
observing that her _élève_ trembled and grew pale.

"It is my cousin, Miss Van Cortlandt--she whom I loved as a sister--
we now meet for the first time in so many years!"

"_Bien_--_c'est une très jolie jeune personne_!" returned the
governess, taking a glance from the spot Eve had just quitted. "_Sur
le rapport de la personne, ma chere, vous devriez être contente, au
moins_."

"If you will excuse me, Mademoiselle, I will go down alone--I think I
should prefer to meet Grace without witnesses in the first
interview."

"_Très volontiers. Elle est parente, et c'est bien naturel."_

Eve, on this expressed approbation, met her maid at the door, as she
came to announce that _Mademoiselle de Cortlandt_ was in the library,
and descended slowly to meet her. The library was lighted from above
by means of a small dome, and Grace had unconsciously placed herself
in the very position that a painter would have chosen, had she been
about to sit for her portrait. A strong, full, rich light fell
obliquely on her as Eve entered, displaying her fine person and
beautiful features to the very best advantage, and they were features
and a person that are not seen every day even in a country where
female beauty is so common. She was in a carriage dress, and her
toilette was rather more elaborate than Eve had been accustomed to
see, at that hour, but still Eve thought she had seldom seen a more
lovely young creature. Some such thoughts, also, passed through the
mind of Grace herself, who, though struck, with a woman's readiness
in such matters, with the severe simplicity of Eve's attire, as well
as with its entire elegance, was more struck with the charms of her
countenance and figure. There was, in truth, a strong resemblance
between them, though each was distinguished by an expression suited
to her character, and to the habits of her mind.

"Miss Effingham!" said Grace, advancing a step to meet the lady who
entered, while her voice was scarcely audible and her limbs trembled.

"Miss Van Cortlandt!" said Eve, in the same low, smothered tone.

This formality caused a chill in both, and each unconsciously stopped
and curtsied. Eve had been so much struck with the coldness of the
American manner, during the week she had been at home, and Grace was
so sensitive on the subject of the opinion of one who had seen so
much of Europe, that there was great danger, at that critical moment,
the meeting would terminate unpropitiously.

Thus far, however, all had been rigidly decorous, though the strong
feelings that were glowing in the bosoms of both, had been so
completely suppressed. But the smile, cold and embarrassed as it was,
that each gave as she curtsied, had the sweet character of her
childhood in it, and recalled to both the girlish and affectionate
intercourse of their younger days.

"Grace!" said Eve, eagerly, advancing a step or two impetuously, and
blushing like the dawn.

"Eve!"

Each opened her arms, and in a moment they were locked in a long and
fervent embrace. This was the commencement of their former intimacy,
and before night Grace was domesticated in her uncle's house. It is
true that Miss Effingham perceived certain peculiarities about Miss
Van Cortlandt, that she had rather were absent; and Miss Van
Cortlandt would have felt more at her ease, had Miss Effingham a
little less reserve of manner, on certain subjects that the latter
had been taught to think interdicted. Notwithstanding these slight
separating shades in character, however, the natural affection was
warm and sincere; and if Eve, according to Grace's notions, was a
little stately and formal, she was polished and courteous, and if
Grace, according to Eve's notions, was a little too easy and
unreserved, she was feminine and delicate.

We pass over the three or four days that succeeded, during which Eve
had got to understand something of her new position, and we will come
at once to a conversation between the cousins, that will serve to let
the reader more intimately into the opinions, habits and feelings of
both, as well as to open the real subject of our narrative. This
conversation took place in that very library which had witnessed
their first interview, soon after breakfast, and while the young
ladies were still alone.

"I suppose, Eve, you will have to visit the Green's.--They are
Hajjis, and were much in society last winter."

"Hajjis!--You surely do not mean, Grace, that they have been to
Mecca?"

"Not at all: only to Paris, my dear; that makes a Hajji in New-York."

"And does it entitle the pilgrim to wear the green turban?" asked
Eve, laughing.

"To wear any thing, Miss Effingham; green, blue, or yellow, and to
cause it to pass for elegance."

"And which is the favourite colour with the family you have
mentioned?"

"It ought to be the first, in compliment to the name, but, if truth
must be said, I think they betray an affection for all, with not a
few of the half-tints in addition."

"I am afraid they are too _prononcées_ for us, by this description. I
am no great admirer, Grace, of walking rainbows."

"_Too_ Green, you would have said, had you dared; but you are a Hajji
too, and even the Greens know that a Hajji never puns, unless,
indeed, it might be one from Philadelphia. But you will visit these
people?"

"Certainly, if they are in society and render it necessary by their
own civilities."

"They _are_ in society, in virtue of their rights as Hajjis; but, as
they passed three months at Paris, you probably know something of
them."

"They may not have been there at the same time with ourselves,"
returned Eve, quietly, "and Paris is a very large town. Hundreds of
people come and go, that one never hears of. I do not remember those
you have mentioned."

"I wish you may escape them, for, in my untravelled judgment, they
are anything but agreeable, notwithstanding all they have seen, or
pretend to have seen."

"It is very possible to have been all over christendom, and to remain
exceedingly disagreeable; besides one may see a great deal, and yet
see very little of a good quality."

A pause of two or three minutes followed, during which Eve read a
note, and her cousin played with the leaves of a book.

"I wish I knew your real opinion of us, Eve," the last suddenly
exclaimed. "Why not be frank with so near a relative; tell me
honestly, now--are you reconciled to your country?"

"You are the eleventh person who has asked me this question, which I
find very extraordinary, as I have never quarrelled with my country."

"Nay, I do not mean exactly that. I wish to hear how our society has
struck one who has been educated abroad."

"You wish, then, for opinions that can have no great value, since my
experience at home, extends only to a fortnight. But you have many
books on the country, and some written by very clever persons; why
not consult them?"

"Oh! you mean the travellers. None of them are worth a second
thought, and we hold them, one and all, in great contempt."

"Of that I can have no manner of doubt, as one and all, you are
constantly protesting it, in the highways and bye-ways. There is no
more certain sign of contempt, than to be incessantly dwelling on its
intensity!"

Grace had great quickness, as well as her cousin, and though provoked
at Eve's quiet hit, she had the good sense and the good nature to
laugh.

"Perhaps we do protest and disdain a little too strenuously for good
taste, if not to gain believers; but surely, Eve, you do not support
these travellers in all that they have written of us?"

"Not in half, I can assure you. My father and cousin Jack have
discussed them too often in my presence to leave me in ignorance of
the very many political blunders they have made in particular."

"Political blunders!--I know nothing of them, and had rather thought
them right, in most of what they said about our politics. But,
surely, neither your father nor Mr. John Effingham corroborates what
they say of our society!"

"I cannot answer for either, on that point."

"Speak then for yourself. Do _you_ think them right?"

"You should remember, Grace, that I have not yet seen any society in
New-York."

"No society, dear!--Why you were at the Henderson's, and the
Morgan's, and the Drewett's; three of the greatest _réunions_ that we
have had in two winters!"'

"I did not know that you meant those unpleasant crowds, by society."

"Unpleasant crowds! Why, child, that _is_ society, is it not?'

"Not what I have been taught to consider such; I rather think it
would be better to call it company."

"And is not this what is called society in Paris?"

"As far from it as possible; it may be an excrescence of society; one
of its forms; but, by no means, society itself. It would be as true
to call cards, which are sometimes introduced in the world, society,
as to call a ball given in two small and crowded rooms, society. They
are merely two of the modes in which idlers endeavour to vary their
amusements."

"But we have little else than these balls, the morning visits, and an
occasional evening, in which there is no dancing."

"I am sorry to hear it; for, in that case, you can have no society."

"And is it different at Paris--or Florence, or Rome?"

"Very. In Paris there are many houses open every evening to which one
can go, with little ceremony. Our sex appears in them, dressed
according to what a gentleman I overheard conversing at Mrs.
Henderson's would call their 'ulterior intentions,' for the night;
some attired in the simplest manner, others dressed for concerts, for
the opera, for court even; some on the way from a dinner, and others
going to a late ball. All this matter of course variety, adds to the
case and grace of the company, and coupled with perfect good manners,
a certain knowledge of passing events, pretty modes of expression, an
accurate and even utterance, the women usually find the means of
making themselves agreeable. Their sentiment is sometimes a little
heroic, but this one must overlook, and it is a taste, moreover, that
is falling into disuse, as people read better books."

"And you prefer this heartlessness, Eve, to the nature of your own
country!"

"I do not know that quiet, _retenue_, and a good tone, are a whit
more heartless than flirting, giggling and childishness. There may be
more nature in the latter, certainly, but it is scarcely as
agreeable, after one has fairly got rid of the nursery."

Grace looked vexed, but she loved her cousin too sincerely to be
angry, A secret suspicion that Eve was right, too, came in aid of her
affection, and while her little foot moved, she maintained her good-
nature, a task not always attainable for those who believe that their
own "superlatives" scarcely reach to other people's "positives." At
this critical moment, when there was so much danger of a jar in the
feelings of these two young females, the library door opened and
Pierre, Mr. Effingham's own man, announced--

"Monsieur Bragg."

"Monsieur who?" asked Eve, in surprise.

"Monsieur Bragg," returned Pierre, in French, "desires to see
Mademoiselle."

"You mean my father,--I know no such person."

"He inquired first for Monsieur, but understanding Monsieur was out,
he next asked to have the honour of seeing Mademoiselle."

"Is it what they call a _person_ in England, Pierre?"

Old Pierre smiled, as he answered--

"He has the air, Mademoiselle, though he esteems himself a
_personnage_, if I might take the liberty of judging."

"Ask him for his card,--there must be a mistake, I think."

While this short conversation took place, Grace Van Cortlandt was
sketching a cottage with a pen, without attending to a word that was
said. But, when Eve received the card from Pierre and read aloud,
with the tone of surprise that the name would be apt to excite in a
novice in the art of American nomenclature, the words "Aristabulus
Bragg," her cousin began to laugh.

"Who can this possibly be, Grace?--Did you ever hear of such a
person, and what right can he have to wish to see me?"

"Admit him, by all means; it is your father's land agent, and he may
wish to leave some message for my uncle. You will be obliged to make
his acquaintance, sooner or later, and it may as well be done now as
at another time."

"You have shown this gentleman into the front drawing-room, Pierre?"

"Oui, Mademoiselle."

"I will ring when you are wanted."

Pierre withdrew, and Eve opened her secretary, out of which she took
a small manuscript book, over the leaves of which she passed her
fingers rapidly.

"Here it is," she said, smiling, "Mr. Aristabulus Bragg, Attorney and
Counsellor at Law, and the agent of the Templeton estate." This
precious little work, you must understand, Grace, contains sketches
of the characters of such persons as I shall be the most likely to
see, by John Effingham, A.M. It is a sealed volume, of course, but
there can be no harm in reading the part that treats of our present
visiter, and, with your permission, we will have it in common.--'Mr.
Aristabulus Bragg was born in one of the western counties of
Massachusetts, and emigrated to New-York, after receiving his
education, at the mature age of nineteen; at twenty-one he was
admitted to the bar, and for the last seven years he has been a
successful practitioner in all the courts of Otsego, from the
justice's to the circuit. His talents are undeniable, as he commenced
his education at fourteen and terminated it at twenty-one, the law-
course included. This man is an epitome of all that is good and all
that is bad, in a very large class of his fellow citizens. He is
quick-witted, prompt in action, enterprising in all things in which
he has nothing to lose, but wary and cautious in all things in which
he has a real stake, and ready to turn not only his hand, but his
heart and his principles to any thing that offers an advantage. With
him, literally, "nothing is too high to be aspired to, nothing too
low to be done." He will run for Governor, or for town-clerk, just as
opportunities occur, is expert in all the _practices_ of his
profession, has had a quarter's dancing, with three years in the
classics, and turned his attention towards medicine and divinity,
before he finally settled down into the law. Such a compound of
shrewdness, impudence, common-sense, pretension, humility,
cleverness, vulgarity, kind-heartedness, duplicity, selfishness, law-
honesty, moral fraud and mother wit, mixed up with a smattering of
learning and much penetration in practical things, can hardly be
described, as any one of his prominent qualities is certain to be met
by another quite as obvious that is almost its converse. Mr. Bragg,
in short, is purely a creature of circumstances, his qualities
pointing him out for either a member of congress or a deputy sheriff,
offices that he is equally ready to fill. I have employed him to
watch over the estate of your father, in the absence of the latter,
on the principle that one practised in tricks is the best qualified
to detect and expose them, and with the certainty that no man will
trespass with impunity, so long as the courts continue to tax bills
of costs with their present liberality.' You appear to know the
gentleman, Grace; is this character of him faithful?"

"I know nothing of bills of costs and deputy sheriffs, but I do know
that Mr. Aristabulus Bragg is an amusing mixture of strut, humility,
roguery and cleverness. He is waiting all this time in the drawing-
room, and you had better see him, as he may, now, be almost
considered part of the family. You know he has been living in the
house at Templeton, ever since he was installed by Mr. John
Effingham. It was there I had the honour first to meet him,"

"First!--Surely you have never seen him any where else!"

"Your pardon, my dear. He never comes to town without honouring me
with a call. This is the price I pay for having had the honour of
being an inmate of the same house with him for a week."

Eve rang the bell, and Pierre made his appearance.

"Desire Mr. Bragg to walk into the library."

Grace looked demure while Pierre was gone to usher in their visiter,
and Eve was thinking of the medley of qualities John Effingham had
assembled in his description, as the door opened, and the subject of
her contemplation entered.

"_Monsieur Aristabule_" said Pierre, eyeing the card, but sticking at
the first name.

Mr. Aristabulus Bragg was advancing with an easy assurance to make
his bow to the ladies, when the more finished air and quiet dignity
of Miss Effingham, who was standing, so far disconcerted him, as
completely to upset his self-possession. As Grace had expressed it,
in consequence of having lived three years in the old residence at
Templeton, he had begun to consider himself a part of the family, and
at home he never spoke of the young lady without calling her "Eve,"
or "Eve Effingham." But he found it a very different thing to affect
familiarity among his associates, and to practise it in the very face
of its subject; and, although seldom at a loss for words of some sort
or another, he was now actually dumb-founded. Eve relieved his
awkwardness by directing Pierre, with her eye, to hand a chair, and
first speaking.

"I regret that my father is not in," she said, by way of turning the
visit from herself; "but he is to be expected every moment. Are you
lately from Templeton?"

Aristabulus drew his breath, and recovered enough of his ordinary
tone of manner to reply with a decent regard to his character for
self-command. The intimacy that he had intended to establish on the
spot, was temporarily defeated, it is true, and without his exactly
knowing how it had been effected; for it was merely the steadiness of
the young lady, blended as it was with a polished reserve, that had
thrown him to a distance he could not explain. He felt immediately,
and with taste that did his sagacity credit, that his footing in this
quarter was only to be obtained by unusually slow and cautious means.
Still, Mr. Bragg was a man of great decision, and, in his way, of
very far-sighted views; and, singular as it may seem, at that
unpropitious moment, he mentally determined that, at no very distant
day, he would make Miss Eve Effingham his wife.

"I hope Mr. Effingham enjoys good health," he said, with some such
caution as a rebuked school-girl enters on the recitation of her
task--"he enjoyed bad health I hear, (Mr. Aristabulus Bragg, though
so shrewd, was far from critical in his modes of speech) when he went
to Europe, and after travelling so far in such bad company, it would
be no more than fair that he should have a little respite as he
approaches home and old age."

Had Eve been told that the man who uttered this nice sentiment, and
that too in accents as uncouth and provincial as the thought was
finished and lucid, actually presumed to think of her as his bosom
companion, it is not easy to say which would have predominated in her
mind, mirth or resentment. But Mr. Bragg was not in the habit of
letting his secrets escape him prematurely, and certainly this was
one that none but a wizard could have discovered without the aid of a
direct oral or written communication.

"Are you lately from Templeton?" repeated Eve a little surprised that
the gentleman did not see fit to answer the question, which was the
only one that, as it seemed to her, could have a common interest with
them both.

"I left home the day before yesterday," Aristabulus now deigned to
reply.

"It is so long since I saw our beautiful mountains and I was then so
young, that I feel a great impatience to revisit them, though the
pleasure must be deferred until spring."

"I conclude they are the handsomest mountains in the known world,
Miss Effingham!"

"That is much more than I shall venture to claim for them; but,
according to my imperfect recollection, and, what I esteem of far
more importance, according to the united testimony of Mr. John
Effingham and my father, I think they must be very beautiful."

Aristabulus looked up, as if he had a facetious thing to say, and he
even ventured on a smile, while he made his answer.

"I hope Mr. John Effingham has prepared you for a great change in the
house?"

"We know that it has been repaired and altered under his directions.
That was done at my father's request."

"We consider it denationalized, Miss Effingham, there being nothing
like it, west of Albany at least."

"I should be sorry to find that my cousin has subjected us to this
imputation," said Eve smiling--perhaps a little equivocally; "the
architecture of America being generally so simple and pure. Mr.
Effingham laughs at his own improvements, however, in which, he says,
he has only carried out the plans of the original _artiste_, who
worked very much in what was called the composite order.

"You allude to Mr. Hiram Doolittle, a gentleman I never saw; though I
hear he has left behind him many traces of his progress in the newer
states. _Ex pede Herculem_, as we say, in the classics, Miss
Effingham I believe it is the general sentiment that Mr. Doolittle's
designs have been improved on, though most people think that the
Grecian or Roman architecture, which is so much in use in America,
would be more republican. But every body knows that Mr. John
Effingham is not much of a republican."

Eve did not choose to discuss her kinsman's opinions with Mr.
Aristabulus Bragg, and she quietly remarked that she "did not know
that the imitations of the ancient architecture, of which there are
so many in the country, were owing to attachment to republicanism."

"To what else can it be owing, Miss Eve?"

"Sure enough," said Grace Van Cortlandt; "it is unsuited to the
materials, the climate, and the uses; and some very powerful motive,
like that mentioned by Mr. Bragg, could alone overcome these
obstacles."

Aristabulus started from his seat, and making sundry apologies,
declared his previous unconsciousness that Miss Van Cortlandt was
present; all of which was true enough, as he had been so much
occupied mentally, with her cousin, as not to have observed her,
seated as she was partly behind a screen. Grace received the excuses
favourably, and the conversation was resumed.

"I am sorry that my cousin should offend the taste of the country,"
said Eve, "but as we are to live in the house, the punishment will
fall heaviest on the offenders."

"Do not mistake me, Miss Eve," returned Aristabulus, in a little
alarm, for he too well understood the influence and wealth of John
Effingham, not to wish to be on good terms with him; "do not mistake
me, I admire the house, and know it to be a perfect specimen of a
pure architecture in its way, but then public opinion is not yet
quite up to it. I see all its beauties, I would wish you to know, but
then there are many, a majority perhaps, who do not, and these
persons think they ought to be consulted about such matters."

"I believe Mr. John Effingham thinks less of his own work than you
seem to think of it yourself, sir, for I have frequently heard him
laugh at it, as a mere enlargement of the merits of the composite
order. He calls it a caprice, rather than a taste: nor do I see what
concern a majority, as you term them, can have with a house that does
not belong to them."

Aristabulus was surprised that any one could disregard a majority;
for, in this respect, he a good deal resembled Mr. Dodge, though
running a different career; and the look of surprise he gave was
natural and open.

"I do not mean that the public has a legal right to control the
tastes of the citizen," he said, "but in a _republican_ government,
you undoubtedly understand, Miss Eve, it _will_ rule in all things."

"I can understand that one would wish to see his neighbour use good
taste, as it helps to embellish a country; but the man who should
consult the whole neighbourhood before he built, would be very apt to
cause a complicated house to be erected, if he paid much respect to
the different opinions he received; or, what is quite as likely, apt
to have no house at all."

"I think you are mistaken, Miss Effingham, for the public sentiment,
just now, runs almost exclusively and popularly into the Grecian
school. We build little besides temples for our churches, our banks,
our taverns, our court-houses, and our dwellings. A friend of mine
has just built a brewery on the model of the Temple of the Winds."

"Had it been a mill, one might understand the conceit," said Eve, who
now began to perceive that her visiter had some latent humour, though
he produced it in a manner to induce one to think him any thing but a
droll. "The mountains must be doubly beautiful, if they are decorated
in the way you mention. I sincerely hope, Grace, that I shall find
the hills as pleasant as they now exist in my recollection!"

"Should they not prove to be quite as lovely as you imagine, Miss
Effingham," returned Aristabulus, who saw no impropriety in answering
a remark made to Miss Van Cortlandt, or any one else, "I hope you
will have the kindness to conceal the fact from the world."

"I am afraid that would exceed my power, the disappointment would be
so strong. May I ask why you show so much interest in my keeping so
cruel a mortification to myself?"

"Why, Miss Eve," said Aristabulus, looking grave, "I am afraid that
_our_ people would hardly bear the expression of such an opinion from
_you_"

"From _me!_--and why not from _me_, in particular?"

"Perhaps it is because they think you have travelled, and have seen
other countries."

"And is it only those who have _not_ travelled, and who have no means
of knowing the value of what they say, that are privileged to
criticise?"

"I cannot exactly explain my own meaning, perhaps, but I think Miss
Grace will understand me. Do you not agree with me, Miss Van
Cortlandt, in thinking it would be safer for one who never saw any
other mountains to complain of the tameness and monotony of our own,
than for one who had passed a whole life among the Andes and the
Alps?"

Eve smiled, for she saw that Mr. Bragg was capable of detecting and
laughing at provincial pride, even while he was so much under its
influence; and Grace coloured, for she had the consciousness of
having already betrayed some of this very silly sensitiveness, in her
intercourse with her cousin, in connexion with other subjects. A
reply was unnecessary, however, as the door just then opened, and
John Effingham made his appearance. The meeting between the two
gentlemen, for we suppose Aristabulus must be included in the
category by courtesy, if not of right, was more cordial than Eve had
expected to witness, for each really entertained a respect for the
other, in reference to a merit of a particular sort; Mr. Bragg
esteeming Mr. John Effingham as a wealthy and caustic cynic, and Mr.
John Effingham regarding Mr. Bragg much as the owner of a dwelling
regards a valuable house-dog. After a few moments of conversation,
the two withdrew together, and just as the ladies were about to
descend to the drawing-room, previously to dinner, Pierre announced
that a plate had been ordered for the land agent.

Chapter II.

  "I know that Deformed; he has been a vile thief this seven year he
  goes up and down like a gentleman."

  MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING.

Eve, and her cousin, found Sir George Templemore and Captain Truck in
the drawing-room, the former having lingered in New-York, with a
desire to be near his friends, and the latter being on the point of
sailing for Europe, in his regular turn. To these must be added Mr.
Bragg and the ordinary inmates of the house, when the reader will get
a view of the whole party.

Aristabulus had never before sat down to as brilliant a table, and
for the first time in his life, he saw candles lighted at a dinner;
but he was not a man to be disconcerted at a novelty. Had he been a
European of the same origin and habits, awkwardness would have
betrayed him fifty times, before the dessert made its appearance;
but, being the man he was, one who overlooked a certain prurient
politeness that rather illustrated his deportment, might very well
have permitted him to pass among the _oi polloi_ of the world, were
it not for a peculiar management in the way of providing for himself.
It is true, he asked every one near him to eat of every thing he
could himself reach, and that he used his knife as a coal-heaver uses
a shovel; but the company he was in, though fastidious in its own
deportment, was altogether above the silver-forkisms, and this
portion of his demeanour, if it did not escape undetected, passed
away unnoticed. Not so, however, with the peculiarity already
mentioned as an exception. This touch of deportment, (or management,
perhaps, is the better word,) being characteristic of the man, it
deserves to be mentioned a little in detail.

The service at Mr. Effingham's table was made in the quiet, but
thorough manner that distinguishes a French dinner. Every dish was
removed, carved by the domestics, and handed in turn to each guest.
But there were a delay and a finish in this arrangement that
suited neither Aristabulus's go-a-head-ism, nor his organ of
acquisitiveness. Instead of waiting, therefore, for the more
graduated movements of the domestics, he began to take care of
himself, an office that he performed with a certain dexterity that he
had acquired by frequenting ordinaries--a school, by the way, in
which he had obtained most of his notions of the proprieties of the
table. One or two slices were obtained in the usual manner, or by
means of the regular service; and, then, like one who had laid the
foundation of a fortune, by some lucky windfall in the commencement
of his career, he began to make accessions, right and left, as
opportunity offered. Sundry _entremets_, or light dishes that had a
peculiarly tempting appearance, came first under his grasp. Of these
he soon accumulated all within his reach, by taxing his neighbours,
when he ventured to send his plate, here and there, or wherever he
saw a dish that promised to reward his trouble. By such means, which
were resorted to, however, with a quiet and unobtrusive assiduity
that escaped much observation, Mr. Bragg contrived to make his own
plate a sample epitome of the first course. It contained in the
centre, fish, beef, and ham; and around these staple articles, he had
arranged _croquettes, rognons, râgouts_, vegetables, and other light
things, until not only was the plate completely covered, but it was
actually covered in double and triple layers; mustard, cold butter,
salt, and even pepper, garnishing its edges. These different
accumulations were the work of time and address, and most of the
company had repeatedly changed their plates before Aristabulus had
eaten a mouthful, the soup excepted. The happy moment when his
ingenuity was to be rewarded, had now arrived, and the land agent was
about to commence the process of mastication, or of deglutition
rather, for he troubled himself very little with the first operation,
when the report of a cork drew his attention towards the chaimpaigne.
To Aristabulus this wine never came amiss, for, relishing its
piquancy, he had never gone far enough into the science of the table
to learn which were the proper moments for using it. As respected all
the others at table, this moment had in truth arrived, though, as
respected himself, he was no nearer to it, according to a regulated
taste, than when he first took his seat. Perceiving that Pierre was
serving it, however, he offered his own glass, and enjoyed a
delicious instant, as he swallowed a beverage that much surpassed any
thing he had ever known to issue out of the waxed and leaded nozles
that, pointed like so many enemies' batteries, loaded with headaches
and disordered stomachs, garnished sundry village bars of his
acquaintance.

Aristabulus finished his glass at a draught, and when he took breath,
he fairly smacked his lips. That was an unlucky instant, his plate,
burthened with all its treasures, being removed, at this unguarded
moment; the man who performed the unkind office, fancying that a
dislike to the dishes could alone have given rise to such an omnium-
gatherum.

It was necessary to commence _de novo_, but this could no longer be
done with the first course, which was removed, and Aristabulus set-
to, with zeal, forthwith, on the game. Necessity compelled him to
eat, as the different dishes were offered; and, such was his ordinary
assiduity with the knife and fork, that, at the end of the second
remove, he had actually disposed of more food than any other person
at table. He now began to converse, and we shall open the
conversation at the precise point in the dinner, when it was in the
power of Aristabulus to make one of the interlocutors.

Unlike Mr. Dodge, he had betrayed no peculiar interest in the
baronet, being a man too shrewd and worldly to set his heart on
trifles of any sort; and Mr. Bragg no more hesitated about replying
to Sir George Templemore, or Mr. Effingham, than he would have
hesitated about answering one of his own nearest associates. With him
age and experience formed no particular claims to be heard, and, as
to rank, it is true he had some vague ideas about there being such a
thing in the militia, but as it was unsalaried rank, he attached no
great importance to it. Sir George Templemore was inquiring
concerning the recording of deeds, a regulation that had recently
attracted attention in England; and one of Mr. Effingham's replies
contained some immaterial inaccuracy, which Aristabulus took occasion
to correct, as his first appearance in the general discourse.

"I ask pardon, sir," he concluded his explanations by saying, "but I
ought to know these little niceties, having served a short part of a
term as a county clerk, to fill a vacancy occasioned by a death."

"You mean, Mr. Bragg, that you were employed to _write_ in a county
clerk's office," observed John Effingham, who so much disliked
untruth, that he did not hesitate much about refuting it; or what he
now fancied to be an untruth.

"As county clerk, sir. Major Pippin died a year before his time was
out, and I got the appointment. As regular a county clerk, sir, as
there is in the fifty-six counties of New-York."

"When I had the honour to engage you as Mr. Effingham's agent, sir,"
returned the other, a little sternly, for he felt his own character
for veracity involved in that of the subject of his selection, "I
believe, indeed, that you were writing in the office, but I did not
understand it was as _the_ clerk."

"Very true, Mr. John," returned Aristabulus, without discovering the
least concern, "I was _then_ engaged by my successor as _a_ clerk;
but a few months earlier, I filled the office myself."

"Had you gone on, in the regular line of promotion, my dear sir,"
pithily inquired Captain Truck, "to what preferment would you have
risen by this time?"

"I believe I understand you, gentlemen," returned the unmoved
Aristabulus, who perceived a general smile. "I know that some people
are particular about keeping pretty much on the same level, as to
office: but I hold to no such doctrine. If one good thing cannot be
had, I do not see that it is a reason for rejecting another. I ran
that year for sheriff, and finding I was not strong enough to carry
the county, I accepted my successor's offer to write in the office,
until something better might turn up."

"You practised all this time, I believe, Mr. Bragg," observed John
Effingham.

"I did a little in that way, too, sir; or as much as I could. Law is
flat with us, of late, and many of the attorneys are turning their
attention to other callings."

"And pray, sir," asked Sir George, "what is the favourite pursuit
with most of them, just now?"

"Some our way have gone into the horse-line; but much the greater
portion are, just now, dealing in western cities.

"In western cities!" exclaimed the baronet, looking as if he
distrusted a mystification.

"In such articles, and in mill-seats, and rail-road lines, and other
expectations."

"Mr. Bragg means that they are buying and selling lands on which it
is hoped all these conveniences may exist, a century hence,"
explained John Effingham.

"The _hope_ is for next year, or next week, even, Mr. John," returned
Aristabulus, with a sly look, "though you may be very right as to the
_reality_. Great fortunes have been made on a capital of hopes,
lately, in this country."

"And have you been able, yourself, to resist these temptations?"
asked Mr. Effingham. "I feel doubly indebted to you, sir, that you
should have continued to devote your time to my interests, while so
many better things were offering."

"It was my duty, sir," said Aristabulus, bowing so much the lower,
from the consciousness that he had actually deserted his post for
some months, to embark in the western speculations that were then so
active in the country, "not to say my pleasure. There are many
profitable occupations in this country, Sir George, that have been
overlooked in the eagerness to embark in the town-trade--"

"Mr. Bragg does not mean trade in town, but trade in towns,"
explained John Effingham.

"Yes, sir, the traffic in cities. I never come this way, without
casting an eye about me, in order to see if there is any thing to be
done that is useful; and I confess that several available
opportunities have offered, if one had capital. Milk is a good
business."

"_Le lait!_" exclaimed Mademoiselle Viefville, involuntarily.

"Yes, ma'am, for ladies as well as gentlemen. Sweet potatoes I have
heard well spoken of, and peaches are really making some rich men's
fortunes."

"All of which are honester and better occupations than the traffic in
cities, that you have mentioned," quietly observed Mr. Effingham.

Aristabulus looked up in a little surprise, for with him every thing
was eligible that returned a good profit, and all things honest that
the law did not actually punish. Perceiving, however, that the
company was disposed to listen, and having, by this time, recovered
the lost ground, in the way of food, he cheerfully resumed his theme.

"Many families have left Otsego, this and the last summer, Mr.
Effingham, as emigrants for the west. The fever has spread far and
wide."

"The fever! Is _old_ Otsego," for so its inhabitants loved to call a
county of half a century's existence, it being venerable by
comparison, "is _old_ Otsego losing its well established character
for salubrity?"

"I do not allude to an animal fever, but to the western fever."

"_Ce pays de l'ouest, est-il bien malsain_?" whispered Mademoiselle
Viefville.

"_Apparemment, Mademoiselle, sur plusieurs rapports."_

"The western fever has seized old and young, and it has carried off
many active families from our part of the world," continued
Aristabulus, who did not understand the little aside just mentioned,
and who, of course, did not heed it; "most of the counties adjoining
our own have lost a considerable portion of their population."

"And they who have gone, do they belong to the permanent families, or
are they merely the floating inhabitants?" inquired Mr. Effingham.

"Most of them belong to the regular movers."

"Movers!" again exclaimed Sir George--"is there any material part of
your population who actually deserve this name?"

"As much so as the man who shoes a horse ought to be called a smith,
or the man who frames a house a carpenter," answered John Effingham.

"To be sure," continued Mr. Bragg, "we have a pretty considerable
leaven of them in our political dough, as well as in our active
business. I believe, Sir George, that in England, men are tolerably
stationary."

"We love to continue for generations on the same spot. We love the
tree that our forefathers planted, the roof that they built, the
fire-side by which they sat, the sods that cover their remains."

"Very poetical, and I dare say there are situations in life, in which
such feelings come in without much effort. It must be a great check
to business operations, however, in your part of the world, sir!"

"Business operations!--what is business, as you term it, sir, to the
affections, to the recollections of ancestry, and to the solemn
feelings connected with history and tradition?"

"Why, sir, in the way of history, one meets with but few incumbrances
in this country, but he may do very much as interest dictates, so far
as that is concerned, at least. A nation is much to be pitied that is
weighed down by the past, in this manner, since its industry and
enterprize are constantly impeded by obstacles that grow out of its
recollections. America may, indeed, be termed a happy and a free
country, Mr. John Effingham, in this, as well as in all other
things!"

Sir George Templemore was too well-bred to utter all he felt at that
moment, as it would unavoidably wound the feelings of his hosts, but
he was rewarded for his forbearance by intelligent smiles from Eve
and Grace, the latter of whom the young baronet fancied, just at that
moment, was quite as beautiful as her cousin, and if less finished in
manners, she had the most interesting _naiveté_.

"I have been told that most old nations have to struggle with
difficulties that we escape," returned John Effingham, "though I
confess this is a superiority on our part, that never before
presented itself to my mind."

"The political economists, and even the geographers have overlooked
it, but practical men see and feel its advantages, every hour in the
day. I have been told, Sir George Templemore, that in England, there
are difficulties in running highways and streets through homesteads
and dwellings; and that even a rail-road, or a canal, is obliged to
make a curve to avoid a church-yard or a tomb-stone?"

"I confess to the sin, sir."

"Our friend Mr. Bragg," put in John Effingham, "considers life as all
_means_ and no _end_."

"An end cannot be got at without the means, Mr. John Effingham, as I
trust you will, yourself, admit. I am for the end of the road, at
least, and must say that I rejoice in being a native of a country in
which as few impediments as possible exist to onward impulses. The
man who should resist an improvement, in our part of the country, on
account of his forefathers, would fare badly among his contemporaries."

"Will you permit me to ask, Mr. Bragg, if you feel no local
attachments yourself," enquired the baronet, throwing as much
delicacy into the tones of his voice, as a question that he felt
ought to be an insult to a man's heart, would allow--"if one tree is
not more pleasant than another; the house you were born in more
beautiful than a house into which you never entered; or the altar at
which you have long worshipped, more sacred than another at which you
never knelt?"

"Nothing gives me greater satisfaction than to answer the questions
of gentlemen that travel through our country," returned Aristabulus,
"for I think, in making nations acquainted with each other, we
encourage trade and render business more secure. To reply to your
inquiry, a human being is not a cat, to love a locality rather than
its own interests. I have found some trees much pleasanter than
others, and the pleasantest tree I can remember was one of my own,
out of which the sawyers made a thousand feet of clear stuff, to say
nothing of middlings. The house I was born in was pulled down,
shortly after my birth, as indeed has been its successor, so I can
tell you nothing on that head; and as for altars, there are none in
my persuasion."

"The church of Mr. Bragg has stripped itself as naked as he would
strip every thing else, if he could," said John Effingham. "I much
question if he ever knelt even; much less before an altar."

"We are of the standing order, certainly," returned Aristabulus,
glancing towards the ladies to discover how they took his wit, "and
Mr. John Effingham is as near right as a man need be, in a matter of
faith. In the way of houses, Mr. Effingham, I believe it is the
general opinion you might have done better with your own, than to
have repaired it. Had the materials been disposed of, they would have
sold well, and by running a street through the property, a pretty sum
might have been realized."

"In which case I should have been without a home, Mr. Bragg."

"It would have been no great matter to get another on cheaper land.
The old residence would have made a good factory, or an inn."

"Sir, I _am_ a cat, and like the places I have long frequented."

Aristabulus, though not easily daunted, was awed by Mr. Effingham's
manner, and Eve saw that her father's fine face had flushed. This
interruption, therefore, suddenly changed the discourse, which has
been recreated at some length, as likely to give the reader a better
insight into a character that will fill some space in our narrative,
than a more laboured description.

"I trust your owners, Captain Truck," said John Effingham, by way of
turning the conversation into another channel, "are fully satisfied
with the manner in which you saved their property from the hands of
the Arabs?"

"Men, when money is concerned, are more disposed to remember how it
was lost than how it was recovered, religion and trade being the two
poles, on such a point," returned the old seaman, with a serious
face. "On the whole, my dear sir, I have reason to be satisfied,
however; and so long as you, my passengers and my friends, are not
inclined to blame me, I shall feel as if I had done at least a part
of my duty."

Eve rose from table, went to a side-board and returned, when she
gracefully placed before the master of the Montauk a rich and
beautifully chased punch-bowl, in silver. Almost at the same moment,
Pierre offered a salver that contained a capital watch, a pair of
small silver tongs to hold a coal, and a deck trumpet, in solid
silver.

"These are so many faint testimonials of our feelings," said
Eve--"and you will do us the favour to retain them, as evidences of
the esteem created by skill, kindness, and courage."

"My dear young lady!" cried the old tar, touched to the soul by the
feeling with which Eve acquitted herself of this little duty, "my
dear young lady--well, God bless you--God bless you all--you too, Mr.
John Effingham, for that matter--and Sir George--that I should ever
have taken that runaway for a gentleman and a baronet--though I
suppose there are some silly baronets, as well as silly lords--retain
them?"--glancing furiously at Mr. Aristabulus Bragg, "may the Lord
forget me, in the heaviest hurricane, if I ever forget whence these
things came, and why they were given."

Here the worthy captain was obliged to swallow some wine, by way of
relieving his emotions, and Aristabulus, profiting by the
opportunity, coolly took the bowl, which, to use a word of his own,
he _hefted_ in his hand, with a view to form some tolerably accurate
notion of its intrinsic value. Captain Truck's eye caught the action,
and he reclaimed his property quite as unceremoniously as it had been
taken away, nothing but the presence of the ladies preventing an
outbreaking that would have amounted to a declaration of war.

"With your permission, sir," said the captain, drily, after he had
recovered the bowl, not only without the other's consent, but, in
some degree, against his will; "this bowl is as precious in my eyes
as if it were made of my father's bones."

"You may indeed think so," returned the land-agent, "for its cost
could not be less than a hundred dollars."

"Cost, sir!--But, my dear young lady, let us talk of the real value.
For what part of these things am I indebted to you?"

"The bowl is my offering," Eve answered, smilingly, though a tear
glistened in her eye, as she witnessed the strong unsophisticated
feeling of the old tar. "I thought it might serve sometimes to bring
me to your recollection, when it was well filled in honour of
'sweethearts and wives.'"

"It shall--it shall, by the Lord; and Mr. Saunders needs look to it,
if he do not keep this work as bright as a cruising frigate's bottom.
To whom do I owe the coal-tongs?"

"Those are from Mr. John Effingham, who insists that he will come
nearer to your heart than any of us, though the gift be of so little
cost."

"He does not know me, my dear young lady--nobody ever got as near my
heart as you; no, not even my own dear pious old mother. But I thank
Mr. John Effingham from my inmost spirit, and shall seldom smoke
without thinking of him. The watch I know is Mr. Effingham's, and I
ascribe the trumpet to Sir George."

The bows of the several gentlemen assured the captain he was right,
and he shook each of them cordially by the hand, protesting, in the
fulness of his heart, that nothing would give him greater pleasure
than to be able to go through the same perilous scenes as those from
which they had so lately escaped, in their good company again.

While this was going on, Aristabulus, notwithstanding the rebuke he
had received, contrived to get each article, in succession, into his
hands, and by dint of poising it on a finger, or by examining it, to
form some approximative notion of its inherent value. The watch he
actually opened, taking as good a survey of its works as the
circumstances of the case would very well allow.

"I respect these things, sir, more than you respect your father's
grave," said Captain Truck sternly, as he rescued the last article
from what he thought the impious grasp of Aristabulus again, "and cat
or no cat, they sink or swim with me for the remainder of the cruise.
If there is any virtue in a will, which I am sorry to say I hear
there is not any longer, they shall share my last bed with me, be it
ashore or be it afloat. My dear young lady, fancy all the rest, but
depend on it, punch will be sweeter than ever taken from this bowl,
and 'sweethearts and wives' will never be so honoured again."

"We are going to a ball this evening, at the house of one with whom I
am sufficiently intimate to take the liberty of introducing a
stranger, and I wish, gentlemen," said Mr. Effingham, bowing to
Aristabulus and the captain, by way of changing the conversation,
"you would do me the favour to be of our party."

Mr. Bragg acquiesced very cheerfully, and quite as a matter of
course; while Captain Truck, after protesting his unfitness for such
scenes, was finally prevailed on by John Effingham, to comply with
the request also. The ladies remained at table but a few minutes
longer, when they retired, Mr. Effingham having dropped into the old
custom of sitting at the bottle, until summoned to the drawing-room,
a usage that continues to exist in America, for a reason no better
than the fact that it continues to exist in England;--it being almost
certain that it will cease in New-York, the season after it is known
to have ceased in London.

Chapter III.

  "Thou art as wise as thou art beautiful!"

  SHAKSPEARE.

As Captain Truck asked permission to initiate the new coal-tongs by
lighting a cigar, Sir George Templemore contrived to ask Pierre, in
an aside, if the ladies would allow him to join them. The desired
consent having been obtained, the baronet quietly stole from table,
and was soon beyond the odours of the dining-room.

"You miss the censer and the frankincense," said Eve, laughing, as
Sir George entered the drawing-room; "but you will remember we have
no church establishment, and dare not take such liberties with the
ceremonials of the altar."

"That is a short-lived custom with us, I fancy, though far from an
unpleasant one. But you do me injustice in supposing I am merely
running away from the fumes of the dinner."

"No, no; we understand perfectly well that you have something to do
with the fumes of flattery, and we will at once fancy all has been
said that the occasion requires. Is not our honest old captain a
jewel in his way?"

"Upon my word, since you allow me to speak of your father's guests, I
do not think it possible to have brought together two men who are so
completely the opposites of each other, as Captain Truck and this Mr
Aristabulus Bragg. The latter is quite the most extraordinary person
in his way, it was ever my good fortune to meet with."

"You call him a _person_, while Pierre calls him a _personnage;_ I
fancy he considers it very much as a matter of accident, whether he
is to pass his days in the one character or in the other. Cousin Jack
assures me, that, while this man accepts almost any duty that he
chooses to assign him, he would not deem it at all a violation of the
_convenances_ to aim at the throne in the White House."

"Certainly with no hopes of ever attaining it!"

"One cannot answer for that. The man must undergo many essential
changes, and much radical improvement, before such a climax to his
fortunes can ever occur; but the instant you do away with the claims
of hereditary power, the door is opened to a new chapter of
accidents. Alexander of Russia styled himself _un heureux accident_;
and should it ever be our fortune to receive Mr. Bragg as President,
we shall only have to term him _un malheureux accident_. I believe
that will contain all the difference."

"Your republicanism is indomitable, Miss Effingham, and I shall
abandon the attempt to convert you to safer principles, more
especially as I find you supported by both the Mr. Effinghams, who,
while they condemn so much at home, seem singularly attached to their
own system at the bottom."

"They condemn, Sir George Templemore, because they know that
perfection is hopeless, and because they feel it to be unsafe and
unwise to eulogize defects, and they are attached, because near views
of other countries have convinced them that, comparatively at last,
bad as we are, we are still better than most of our neighbours."

"I can assure you," said Grace, "that many of the opinions of Mr John
Effingham, in particular, are not at all the opinions that are most
in vogue here; he rather censures what we like, and likes what we
censure. Even my dear uncle is thought to be a little heterodox on
such subjects."

"I can readily believe it," returned Eve, steadily. "These gentlemen,
having become familiar with better things, in the way of the tastes,
and of the purely agreeable, cannot discredit their own knowledge so
much as to extol that which their own experience tells them is
faulty, or condemn that which their own experience tells them is
relatively good. Now, Grace, if you will reflect a moment, you will
perceive that people necessarily like the best of their own tastes,
until they come to a knowledge of better; and that they as
necessarily quarrel with the unpleasant facts that surround them;
although these facts, as consequences of a political system, may be
much less painful than those of other systems of which they have no
knowledge. In the one case, they like their own best, simply because
it is their own best; and they dislike their own worst, because it is
their own worst. We cherish a taste, in the nature of things, without
entering into any comparisons, for when the means of comparison
offer, and we find improvements, it ceases to be a taste at all;
while to complain of any positive grievance, is the nature of man, I
fear!"

"I think a republic odious!"

"_Le republique est une horreur!_"

Grace thought a republic odious, without knowing any thing of any
other state of society, and because it contained odious things; and
Mademoiselle Viefville called a republic _une horreur_, because heads
fell and anarchy prevailed in her own country, during its early
struggles for liberty. Though Eve seldom spoke more sensibly, and
never more temperately, than while delivering the foregoing opinions,
Sir George Templemore doubted whether she had all that exquisite
_finesse_ and delicacy of features, that he had so much admired; and
when Grace burst out in the sudden and senseless exclamation we have
recorded, he turned towards her sweet and animated countenance,
which, for the moment, he fancied the loveliest of the two.

Eve Effingham had yet to learn that she had just entered into the
most intolerant society, meaning purely as society, and in connexion
with what are usually called liberal sentiments, in Christendom. We
do not mean by this, that it would be less safe to utter a generous
opinion in favour of human rights in America than in any other
country, for the laws and the institutions become active in this
respect, but simply, that the resistance of the more refined to the
encroachments of the unrefined, has brought about a state of
feeling--a feeling that is seldom just and never philosophical--which
has created a silent, but almost unanimous bias against the effects
of the institutions, in what is called the world. In Europe, one
rarely utters a sentiment of this nature, under circumstances in
which it is safe to do so at all, without finding a very general
sympathy in the auditors; but in the circle into which Eve had now
fallen, it was almost considered a violation of the proprieties. We
do not wish to be understood as saying more than we mean, however,
for we have no manner of doubt that a large portion of the
dissentients even, are so idly, and without reflection; or for the
very natural reasons already given by our heroine; but we do wish to
be understood as meaning that such is the outward appearance which
American society presents to every stranger, and to every native of
the country too, on his return from a residence among other people.
Of its taste, wisdom and safety we shall not now speak, but content
ourselves with merely saying that the effect of Grace's exclamation
on Eve was unpleasant, and that, unlike the baronet, she thought her
cousin was never less handsome than while her pretty face was covered
with the pettish frown it had assumed for the occasion.

Sir George Templemore had tact enough to perceive there had been a
slight jar in the feelings of these two young women, and he adroitly
changed the conversation. With Eve he had entire confidence on the
score of provincialisms, and, without exactly anticipating the part
Grace would be likely to take in such a discussion, he introduced the
subject of general society in New-York.

"I am desirous to know," he said, "if you have your sets, as we have
them in London and Paris. Whether you have your _Faubourg St.
Germain_ and your _Chaussée d'Antin;_ your Piccadilly, Grosvenor and
Russel Squares."

"I must refer you to Miss Van Cortlandt for an answer to that
question," said Eve.

Grace looked up blushing, for there were both novelty and excitement
in having an intelligent foreigner question her on such a subject.

"I do not know that I rightly understand the allusion," she said,
"although I am afraid Sir George Templemore means to ask if we have
distinctions in society?"

"And why _afraid_, Miss Van Cortlandt?"

"Because it strikes me such a question would imply a doubt of our
civilization."

"There are frequently distinctions made, when the differences are not
obvious," observed Eve. "Even London and Paris are not above the
imputation of this folly. Sir George Templemore, if I understand him,
wishes to know if we estimate gentility by streets, and quality by
squares."

"Not exactly that either, Miss Effingham--but, whether among those,
who may very well pass for gentlemen and ladies, you enter into the
minute distinctions that are elsewhere found. Whether you have your
exclusive, and your _élégants_ and _élegantes_; or whether you deem
all within the pale as on an equality."

"_Les femmes Americaines sont bien jolies!_" exclaimed Mademoiselle
Viefville.

"It is quite impossible that _coteries_ should not form in a town of
three hundred thousand souls."

"I do not mean exactly even that. Is there no distinction between
_coteries;_ is not one placed by opinion, by a silent consent, if not
by positive ordinances, above another?"

"Certainly, that to which Sir George Templemore alludes, is to be
found," said Grace, who gained courage to speak, as she found the
subject getting to be more clearly within her comprehension. "All the
old families, for instance, keep more together than the others;
though it is the subject of regret that they are not more particular
than they are."

"Old families!" exclaimed Sir George Templemore, with quite as much
stress as a well-bred man could very well lay on the words, in such
circumstances.

"Old families," repeated Eve, with all that emphasis which the
baronet himself had hesitated about giving. "As old, at least, as two
centuries can make them; and this, too, with origins beyond that
period, like those of the rest of the world. Indeed, the American has
a better gentility than common, as, besides his own, he may take root
in that of Europe."

"Do not misconceive me, Miss Effingham; I am fully aware that the
people of this country are exactly like the people of all other
civilized countries, in this respect; but my surprise is that, in a
republic, you should have such a term even as that of 'old
families.'"

"The surprise has arisen, I must be permitted to say, from not having
sufficiently reflected on the real state of the country. There are
two great causes of distinction every where, wealth and merit. Now,
if a race of Americans continue conspicuous in their own society,
through either or both of these causes, for a succession of
generations, why have they not the same claims to be considered
members of old families, as Europeans under the same circumstances? A
republican history is as much history as a monarchical history; and a
historical name in one, is quite as much entitled to consideration,
as a historical name in another. Nay, you admit this in your European
republics, while you wish to deny it in ours."

"I must insist on having proofs; if we permit these charges to be
brought against us without evidence, Mademoiselle Viefville, we shall
finally be defeated through our own neglect."

"_C'est une belle illustration, celle de l'antiquité_" observed the
governess, in a matter of course tone.

"If you insist on proof, what answer can you urge to the _Capponi_?
'_Sonnez vos trompettes, et je vais faire sonner mes cloches_,'--or
to the _Von Erlachs_, a family that has headed so many resistances to
oppression and invasion, for five centuries?"

"All this is very true," returned Sir George, "and yet I confess it
is not the way in which it is usual with us to consider American
society."

"A descent from Washington, with a character and a social position to
correspond, would not be absolutely vulgar, notwithstanding!"

"Nay, if you press me so hard, I must appeal to Miss Van Cortlandt
for succour."

"On this point you will find no support in that quarter. Miss Van
Cortlandt has an historical name herself, and will not forego an
honest pride, in order to relieve one of the hostile powers from a
dilemma."

"While I admit that time and merit must, in a certain sense, place
families in America in the same situation with families in Europe, I
cannot see that it is in conformity with your institutions to lay the
same stress on the circumstance."

"In that we are perfectly of a mind, as I think the American has much
the best reason to be proud of his family," said Eve, quietly.

"You delight in paradoxes, apparently, this evening, Miss Effingham,
for I now feel very certain you can hardly make out a plausible
defence of this new position."

"If I had my old ally, Mr. Powis, here," said Eve touching the fender
unconsciously with her little foot, and perceptibly losing the
animation and pleasantry of her voice, in tones that were gentler, if
not melancholy, "I should ask him to explain this matter to you, for
he was singularly ready in such replies. As he is absent, however, I
will attempt the duty myself. In Europe, office, power, and
consequently, consideration, are all hereditary; whereas, in this
country, they are not, but they depend on selection. Now, surely, one
has more reason to be proud of ancestors who have been chosen to fill
responsible stations, than of ancestors who have filled them through
the accidents, _heureux ou malkeureux_, of birth. The only difference
between England and America, as respects family, is that you add
positive rank to that to which we only give consideration. Sentiment
is at the bottom of our nobility, and the great seal at the bottom of
yours. And now, having established the fact that there are families
in America, let us return whence we started, and enquire how far they
have an influence in every-day society."

"To ascertain which, we must apply to Miss Van Cortlandt."

"Much less than they ought, if my opinion is to be taken," said
Grace, laughing, "for the great inroad of strangers has completely
deranged all the suitablenesses, in that respect."

"And yet, I dare say, these very strangers do good," rejoined Eve.
"Many of them must have been respectable in their native places, and
ought to be an acquisition to a society that, in its nature, must be,
Grace, _tant soit peu_, provincial."

"Oh!" cried Grace, "I can tolerate any thing but the Hajjis!"

"The what?" asked Sir George, eagerly--"will you suffer me to ask an
explanation, Miss Van Cortlandt."

"The Hajjis," repeated Grace laughing, though she blushed to the
eyes.

The baronet looked from one cousin to the other, and then turned an
inquiring glance on Mademoiselle Viefville. The latter gave a slight
shrug, and seemed to ask an explanation of the young lady's meaning
herself.

"A Hajji is one of a class, Sir George Templemore," Eve at length
said, "to which you and I have both the honour of belonging."

"No, not Sir George Templemore," interrupted Grace, with a
precipitation that she instantly regretted; "he is not an American."

"Then I, alone, of all present, have that honour. It means the
pilgrimage to Paris, instead of Mecca; and the Pilgrim must be an
American, instead of a Mahommedan."

"Nay, Eve, _you_ are not a Hajji, neither."

"Then there is some qualification with which I am not yet acquainted.
Will you relieve our doubts, Grace, and let us know the precise
character of the animal."

"_You_ stayed too long to be a Hajji--- one must get innoculated
merely; not take the disease and become cured, to be a true Hajji."

"I thank you, Miss Van Cortlandt, for this description," returned Eve
in her quiet way. "I hope, as I have gone through the malady, it has
not left me pitted."

"I should like to see one of these Hajjis," cried Sir George.--"Are
they of both sexes?"

Grace laughed and nodded her head.

"Will you point it out to me, should we be so fortunate as to
encounter one this evening?"

Again Grace laughed and nodded her head.

"I have been thinking, Grace," said Eve, after a short pause, "that
we may give Sir George Templemore a better idea of the sets about
which he is so curious, by doing what is no more than a duty of our
own, and by letting him profit by the opportunity. Mrs. Hawker
receives this evening without ceremony; we have not yet sent our
answer to Mrs. Jarvis, and might very well look in upon her for half
an hour, after which we shall be in very good season for Mrs.
Houston's ball."

"Surely, Eve, you would not wish to take Sir George Templemore to
such a house as that of Mrs. Jarvis!"

"_I_ do not wish to take Sir George Templemore any where, for your
Hajjis have opinions of their own on such subjects. But, as cousin
Jack will accompany us, _he_ may very well confer that important
favour. I dare say, Mrs. Jarvis will not look upon it as too great a
liberty."

"I will answer for it, that nothing Mr. John Effingham can do will be
thought _mal à propos_ by Mrs. Jared Jarvis. His position in society
is too well established, and hers is too equivocal, to leave any
doubt on that head."

"This, you perceive, settles the point of _côteries,_" said Eve to
the baronet. "Volumes might be written to establish principles; but
when one can do any thing he or she pleases, any where that he or she
likes, it is pretty safe to say that he or she is privileged."

"All very true, as to the fact, Miss Effingham; but I should like
exceedingly to know the reason."

"Half the time, such things are decided without a reason at all. You
are a little exacting in requiring a reason in New-York for that
which is done in London without even the pretence of such a thing. It
is sufficient that Mrs. Jarvis will be delighted to see you without
an invitation, and that Mrs. Houston would, at least, think it odd,
were you to take the same liberty with her."

"It follows," said Sir George, smiling, "that Mrs. Jarvis is much the
most hospitable person of the two."

"But, Eve, what shall be done with Captain Truck and Mr. Bragg?"
asked Grace. "We cannot take _them_ to Mrs. Hawker's!"

"Aristabulus would, indeed, be a little out of place in such a house,
but as for our excellent, brave, straight-forward, old captain, he is
worthy to go any where. I shall be delighted to present _him_ to Mrs.
Hawker, myself."

After a little consultation between the ladies, it was settled that
nothing should be said of the two first visits to Mr. Bragg, but that
Mr. Effingham should be requested to bring him to the ball, at the
proper hour, and that the rest of the party should go quietly off to
the other places, without mentioning their projects. As soon as this
was arranged the ladies retired to dress, Sir George Templemore
passing into the library to amuse himself with a book the while;
where, however, he was soon joined by John Effingham. Here the former
revived the conversation on distinctions in society, with the
confusion of thought that usually marks a European's notions of such
matters.

Chapter IV.

  "Ready." "And I." "And I." "Where shall we go?"

  MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S DREAM.

Grace Van Cortlant was the first to make her appearance after the
retreat from the drawing-room. It has often been said that, pretty as
the American females incontestably are, as a whole they appear better
in _demi-toilette,_ than when attired for a ball. With what would be
termed high dress in other parts of the world, they are little
acquainted; but reversing the rule of Europe, where the married
bestow the most care on their personal appearance, and the single are
taught to observe a rigid simplicity, Grace now seemed sufficiently
ornamented in the eyes of the fastidious baronet, while, at the same
time, he thought her less obnoxious to the criticism just mentioned,
than most of her young countrywomen, in general.

An _embonpoint_ that was just sufficient to distinguish her from most
of her companions, a fine colour, brilliant eyes, a sweet smile, rich
hair, and such feet and hands as Sir George Templemore had, somehow--
he scarcely knew how, himself--fancied could only belong to the
daughters of peers and princes, rendered Grace so strikingly
attractive this evening, that the young baronet began to think her
even handsomer than her cousin. There was also a charm in the
unsophisticated simplicity of Grace, that was particularly alluring
to a man educated amidst the coldness and mannerism of the higher
classes of England. In Grace, too, this simplicity was chastened by
perfect decorum and _retenue_ of deportment; the exuberance of the
new school of manners not having helped to impair the dignity of her
character, or to weaken the charm of diffidence. She was less
finished in her manners than Eve, certainly; a circumstance, perhaps,
that induced Sir George Templemore to fancy her a shade more simple,
but she was never unfeminine or unladylike; and the term vulgar, in
despite of all the capricious and arbitrary rules of fashion, under
no circumstances, could ever be applied to Grace Van Cortlandt. In
this respect, nature seemed to have aided her; for had not her
associations raised her above such an imputation, no one could
believe that she would be obnoxious to the charge, had her lot in
life been cast even many degrees lower than it actually was.

It is well known that, after a sufficient similarity has been created
by education to prevent any violent shocks to our habits or
principles, we most affect those whose characters and dispositions
the least resemble our own. This was probably one of the reasons why
Sir George Templemore, who, for some time, had been well assured of
the hopelessness of his suit with Eve, began to regard her scarcely
less lovely cousin, with an interest of a novel and lively nature.
Quick-sighted and deeply interested in Grace's happiness, Miss
Effingham had already detected this change in the young baronet's
inclinations, and though sincerely rejoiced on her own account, she
did not observe it without concern; for she understood better than
most of her countrywomen, the great hazards of destroying her peace
of mind, that are incurred by transplanting an American woman into
the more artificial circles of the old world.

"I shall rely on your kind offices, in particular, Miss Van
Cortlandt, to reconcile Mrs. Jarvis and Mrs. Hawker to the liberty I
am about to take," cried Sir George, as Grace burst upon them in the
library, in a blaze of beauty that, in her case, was aided by her
attire; "and cold-hearted and unchristian-like women they must be,
indeed, to resist such a mediator!"

Grace was unaccustomed to adulation of this sort; for though the
baronet spoke gaily, and like one half trifling, his look of
admiration was too honest to escape the intuitive perception of
woman. She blushed deeply, and then recovering herself instantly,
said with a _naiveté_ that had a thousand charms with her listener--

"I do not see why Miss Effingham and myself should hesitate about
introducing you at either place. Mrs. Hawker is a relative and an
intimate--an intimate of mine, at least--and as for poor Mrs. Jarvis,
she is the daughter of an old neighbour, and will be too glad to see
us, to raise objections. I fancy any one of a certain--" Grace
hesitated and laughed.

"Any one of a certain--?" said Sir George inquiringly.

"Any one from this house," resumed the young lady, correcting the
intended expression, "will be welcome in Spring street."

"Pure, native aristocracy!" exclaimed the baronet with an air of
affected triumph. "This you see, Mr. John Effingham, is in aid of my
argument."

"I am quite of your opinion," returned the gentleman addressed--"as
much native aristocracy as you please, but no hereditary."

The entrance of Eve and Mademoiselle Viefville interrupted this
pleasantry, and the carriages being just then announced, John
Effingham went in quest of Captain Truck, who was in the drawing-room
with Mr. Effingham and Aristabulus.

"I have left Ned to discuss trespass suits and leases with his land-
agent," said John Effingham, as he followed Eve to the street-door.
"By ten o'clock, they will have taxed a pretty bill of costs between
them!"

Mademoiselle Viefville followed John Effingham; Grace came next, and
Sir George Templemore and the Captain brought up the rear. Grace
wondered the young baronet did not offer her his arm, for she had
been accustomed to receive this attention from the other sex, in a
hundred situations in which it was rather an incumbrance than a
service; while on the other hand, Sir George himself would have
hesitated about offering such assistance, as an act of uncalled-for
familiarity.

Miss Van Cortlandt, being much in society, kept a chariot for her own
use, and the three ladies took their seats in it, while the gentlemen
took possession of Mr. Effingham's coach. The order was given to
drive to Spring street, and the whole party proceeded.

The acquaintance between the Effinghams and Mr. Jarvis had arisen
from the fact of their having been near, and, in a certain sense,
sociable neighbours in the country. Their town associations, however,
were as distinct as if they dwelt in different hemispheres, with the
exception of an occasional morning call, and, now and then, a family
dinner given by Mr. Effingham. Such had been the nature of the
intercourse previously to the family of the latter's having gone
abroad, and there were symptoms of its being renewed on the same
quiet and friendly footing as formerly. But no two beings could be
less alike, in certain essentials, than Mr. Jarvis and his wife. The
former was a plain pains-taking, sensible man of business, while the
latter had an itching desire to figure in the world of fashion. The
first was perfectly aware that Mr. Effingham, in education, habits,
associations and manners, was, at least, of a class entirely distinct
from his own; and without troubling himself to analyze causes, and
without a feeling of envy, or unkindness of any sort, while totally
exempt from any undue deference or unmanly cringing, he quietly
submitted to let things take their course. His wife expressed her
surprise that any one in New-York should presume to be _better_ than
themselves; and the remark gave rise to the following short
conversation, on the very morning of the day she gave the party, to
which we are now conducting the reader.

"How do you know, my dear, that any one does think himself our
_better_?" demanded the husband.

"Why do they not all visit us then!"

"Why do you not visit everybody yourself? A pretty household we
should have, if you did nothing but visit every one who lives even in
this street!"

"You surely would not have _me_ visiting the grocers' wives at the
corners, and all the other rubbish of the neighbourhood. What I mean
is that all the people of a certain sort ought to visit all the other
people of a certain sort, in the same town."

"You surely will make an exception, at least on account of numbers. I
saw number three thousand six hundred and fifty this very day on a
cart, and if the wives of all these carmen should visit one another,
each would have to make ten visits daily in order to get through with
the list in a twelvemonth."

"I have always bad luck in making you comprehend these things, Mr.
Jarvis."

"I am afraid, my dear, it is because you do not very clearly
comprehend them yourself. You first say that everybody ought to visit
everybody, and then you insist on it, _you_ will visit none but those
you think good enough to be visited by Mrs. Jared Jarvis."

"What I mean is, that no one in New-York has a right to think
himself, or herself, better than ourselves."

"Better?--In what sense better?"

"In such a sense as to induce them to think themselves too good to
visit us."

"That may be your opinion, my dear, but others may judge differently.
You clearly think yourself too good to visit Mrs. Onion, the grocer's
wife, who is a capital woman in her way; and how do we know that
certain people may not fancy we are not quite refined enough for
them? Refinement is a positive thing, Mrs. Jarvis, and one that has
much more influence on the pleasures of association than money. We
may want a hundred little perfections that escape our ignorance, and
which those who are trained to such matters deem essentials."

"I never met with a man of so little social spirit, Mr. Jarvis!
Really, you are quite unsuited to be a citizen of a republican
country."

"Republican!--I do not really see what republican has to do with the
question. In the first place, it is a droll word for _you_ to use in
this sense at least; for, taking your own meaning of the term, you
are as anti-republican as any woman I know. But a republic does not
necessarily infer equality of condition, or even equality of
rights,--it meaning merely the substitution of the right of the
commonwealth for the right of a prince. Had you said a democracy
there would have been some plausibility in using the word, though
even then its application would have been illogical. If I am a
freeman and a democrat, I hope I have the justice to allow others to
be just as free and democratic as I am myself."

"And who wishes the contrary?--all I ask is a claim to be considered
a fit associate for anybody in this country--in these United States
of America."

"I would quit these United States of America next week, if I thought
there existed any necessity for such an intolerable state of things."

"Mr. Jarvis!--and you, too, one of the Committee of Tammany Hall!"

"Yes, Mrs. Jarvis, and I one of the Committee of Tammany Hall! What,
do you think I want the three thousand six hundred and fifty carmen
running in and out of my house, with their tobacco saliva and pipes,
all day long?"

"Who is thinking of your carmen and grocers!--I speak now only of
genteel people."

"In other words, my dear, you are thinking only of those whom you
fancy to have the advantage of you, and keep those who think of you
in the same way, quite out of sight This is not my democracy and
freedom. I believe that it requires two people to make a bargain, and
although I may consent to dine with A----, if A---- will not consent
to dine with me, there is an end of the matter."

"Now, you have come to a case in point. You often dined with Mr.
Effingham before he went abroad, and yet you would never allow me to
ask Mr. Effingham to dine with us. That is what I call meanness."

"It might be so, indeed, if it were done to save my money. I dined
with Mr. Effingham because I like him; because he was an old
neighbour; because he asked me, and because I found a pleasure in the
quiet elegance of his table and society; and I did not ask him to
dine with me, because I was satisfied he would be better pleased with
such a tacit acknowledgement of his superiority in this respect, than
by any bustling and ungraceful efforts to pay him in kind. Edward
Effingham has dinners enough, without keeping a debtor and credit
account with his guests, which is rather too New-Yorkish, even for
me."

"Bustling and ungraceful!" repeated Mrs. Jarvis, bitterly; "I do not
know that you are at all more bustling and ungraceful than Mr.
Effingham himself."

"No, my dear, I am a quiet, unpretending man, like the great majority
of my countrymen, thank God."

"Then why talk of these sorts of differences in a country in which
the law establishes none?"

"For precisely the reason that I talk of the river at the foot of
this street, or because there is a river. A thing may exist without
there being a law for it. There is no law for building this house,
and yet it is built. There is no law for making Dr. Verse a better
preacher than Dr. Prolix, and yet he is a much better preacher;
neither is there any law for making Mr. Effingham a more finished
gentleman than I happen to be, and yet I am not fool enough to deny
the fact. In the way of making out a bill of parcels, I will not turn
my back to him, I can promise you."

"All this strikes me as being very spiritless, and as particularly
anti-republican," said Mrs. Jarvis, rising to quit the room; "and if
the Effinghams do not come this evening, I shall not enter their
house this winter. I am sure they have no right to pretend to be our
betters, and I feel no disposition to admit the impudent claim."

"Before you go, Jane, let me say a parting word," rejoined the
husband, looking for his hat, "which is just this. If you wish the
world to believe you the equal of any one, no matter whom, do not be
always talking about it, lest they see you distrust the fact
yourself. A positive thing will surely be seen, and they who have the
highest claims are the least disposed to be always pressing them on
the attention of the world. An outrage may certainly be done those
social rights which have been established by common consent, and then
it may be proper to resent it; but beware betraying a consciousness
of your own inferiority, by letting every one see you are jealous of
your station. 'Now, kiss me; here is the money to pay for your finery
this evening, and let me see you as happy to receive Mrs. Jewett from
Albion Place, as you would be to receive Mrs. Hawker herself."

"Mrs. Hawker!" cried the wife, with a toss of her head, "I would not
cross the street to invite Mrs. Hawker and all her clan." Which was
very true, as Mrs. Jarvis was thoroughly convinced the trouble would
be unavailing, the lady in question being as near the head of fashion
in New-York, as it was possible to be in a town that, in a moral
sense, resembles an encampment, quite as much as it resembles a
permanent and a long-existing capital.

Notwithstanding a great deal of management on the part of Mrs. Jarvis
to get showy personages to attend her entertainment, the simple
elegance of the two carriages that bore the Effingham party, threw
all the other equipages into the shade. The arrival, indeed, was
deemed a matter of so much moment, that intelligence was conveyed to
the lady, who was still at her post in the inner drawing-room, of the
arrival of a party altogether superior to any thing that had yet
appeared in her rooms. It is true, this was not expressed in words,
but it was made sufficiently obvious by the breathless haste and the
air of importance of Mrs. Jarvis' sister, who had received the news
from a servant, and who communicated it _propriâ personâ_ to the
mistress of the house.

The simple, useful, graceful, almost indispensable usage of
announcing at the door, indispensable to those who receive much, and
where there is the risk of meeting people known to us by name and not
in person, is but little practised in America. Mrs. Jarvis would have
shrunk from such an innovation, had she known that elsewhere the
custom prevailed, but she was in happy ignorance on this point, as on
many others that were more essential to the much-coveted social
_éclat_ at which she aimed. When Mademoiselle Viefville appeared,
therefore, walking unsupported, as if she were out of leading-
strings, followed by Eve and Grace and the gentlemen of their party,
she at first supposed there was some mistake, and that her visitors
had got into the wrong house; there being an opposition party in the
neighbourhood.

"What brazen people!" whispered Mrs. Abijah Gross, who having removed
from an interior New-England village, fully two years previously,
fancied herself _an fait_ of all the niceties of breeding and social
tact. "There are positively two young ladies actually walking about
without gentlemen!"

But it was not in the power of Mrs. Abijah Gross, with her audible
whisper and obvious sneer and laugh, to put down two such lovely
creatures as Eve and her cousin. The simple elegance of their attire,
the indescribable air of polish, particularly in the former, and the
surpassing beauty and modesty of mien of both, effectually silenced
criticism, after this solitary outbreaking of vulgarity. Mrs. Jarvis
recognized Eve and John Effingham, and her hurried compliments and
obvious delight proclaimed to all near her, the importance she
attached to their visit. Mademoiselle Viefville she had not
recollected in her present dress, and even she was covered with
expressions of delight and satisfaction.

"I wish particularly to present to you a friend that we all prize
exceedingly," said Eve, as soon as there was an opportunity of
speaking. "This is Captain Truck, the gentleman who commands the
Montauk, the ship of which you have heard so much. Ah! Mr. Jarvis,"
offering a hand to him with sincere cordiality, for Eve had known him
from childhood, and always sincerely respected him--"_you_ will
receive my friend with a cordial welcome, I am certain."

She then explained to Mr. Jarvis who the honest captain was, when the
former, first paying the proper respect to his other guests, led the
old sailor aside, and began an earnest conversation on the subject of
the recent passage.

John Effingham presented the baronet, whom Mrs. Jarvis, out of pure
ignorance of his rank in his own country, received with perfect
propriety and self-respect.

"We have very few people of note in town at present, I believe," said
Mrs. Jarvis to John Effingham. "A great traveller, a most interesting
man, is the only person of that sort I could obtain for this evening,
and I shall have great pleasure in introducing you. He is there in
that crowd, for he is in the greatest possible demand; he has seen so
much.--Mrs. Snow, with your permission--really the ladies are
thronging about him as if he were a Pawnee,--have the goodness to
step a little this way, Mr. Effingham--Miss Effingham--Mrs. Snow,
just touch his arm and let him know I wish to introduce a couple of
friends.--Mr. Dodge, Mr. John Effingham, Miss Effingham, Miss Van
Cortlandt. I hope you may succeed in getting him a little to
yourselves, ladies, for he can tell you all about Europe--saw the
king of France riding out to Nully, and has a prodigious knowledge of
things on the other side of the water."

It required a good deal of Eve's habitual self-command to prevent a
smile, but she had the tact and discretion to receive Steadfast as an
utter stranger. John Effingham bowed as haughtily as man can bow, and
then it was whispered that he and Mr. Dodge were rival travellers.
The distance of the former, coupled with an expression of countenance
that did not invite familiarity, drove nearly all the company over to
the side of Steadfast, who, it was soon settled, had seen much the
most of the world, understood society the best, and had moreover
travelled as far as Timbuctoo in Africa. The _clientèle_ of Mr. Dodge
increased rapidly, as these reports spread in the rooms, and those
who had not read the "delightful letters published in the Active
Inquirer," furiously envied those who had enjoyed that high
advantage.

"It is Mr. Dodge, the great traveller," said one young lady, who had
extricated herself from the crowd around the 'lion,' and taken a
station near Eve and Grace, and who, moreover, was a 'blue' in her
own set; "his beautiful and accurate descriptions have attracted
great attention in England, and it is said they have actually been
republished!"

"Have you read them, Miss Brackett?"

"Not the letters themselves, absolutely; but all the remarks on them
in the last week's Hebdomad. Most delightful letters, judging from
those remarks; full of nature and point, and singularly accurate in
all their facts. In this respect they are invaluable, travellers do
fall into such extraordinary errors!"

"I hope, ma'am," said John Effingham, gravely, "that the gentleman
has avoided the capital mistake of commenting on things that actually
exist. Comments on its facts are generally esteemed by the people of
a country, impertinent and unjust; and your true way to succeed, is
to treat as freely as possible its imaginary peculiarities."

Miss Brackett had nothing to answer to this observation, the Hebdomad
having, among its other profundities, never seen proper to touch on
the subject. She went on praising the "Letters," however, not one of
which had she read, or would she read; for this young lady had
contrived to gain a high reputation in her own _coterie_ for taste
and knowledge in books, by merely skimming the strictures of those
who do not even skim the works they pretend to analyze.

Eve had never before been in so close contact with so much flippant
ignorance, and she could not but wonder at seeing a man like her
kinsman overlooked, in order that a man like Mr. Dodge should be
preferred. All this gave John Effingham himself no concern, but
retiring a little from the crowd, he entered into a short
conversation with the young baronet.

"I should like to know your real opinions of this set," he said; "not
that I plead guilty to the childish sensibility that is so common in
all provincial circles to the judgments of strangers, but with a view
to aid you in forming a just estimate of the real state of the
country."

"As I know the precise connexion between you and our host, there can
be no objection to giving a perfectly frank reply. The women strike
me as being singularly delicate and pretty; well dressed, too, I
might add; but, while there is a great air of decency, there is very
little high finish; and what strikes me as being quite odd, under
such circumstances, scarcely any downright vulgarity, or coarseness."

"A Daniel come to judgment! One who had passed a life here, would not
have come so near the truth, simply because he would not have
observed peculiarities, that require the means of comparison to be
detected. You are a little too indulgent in saying there is no
downright vulgarity; for some there is; though surprisingly little
for the circumstances. But of the coarseness that would be so
prominent elsewhere, there is hardly any. True, so great is the
equality in all things, in this country, so direct the tendency to
this respectable mediocrity, that what you now see here, to-night,
may be seen in almost every village in the land, with a few
immaterial exceptions in the way of furniture and other city
appliances, and not much even in these."

"Certainly, as a mediocrity, this is respectable though a fastidious
taste might see a multitude of faults."

"I shall not say that the taste would be merely fastidious, for much
is wanting that would add to the grace and beauty of society, while
much that is wanting would be missed only by the over-sophisticated.
Those young-men, who are sniggering over some bad joke in the corner,
for instance, are positively vulgar, as is that young lady who is
indulging in practical coquetry; but, on the whole, there is little
of this; and, even our hostess, a silly woman, devoured with the
desire of being what neither her social position, education, habits
nor notions fit her to be, is less obtrusive, bustling, and
offensive, than a similar person, elsewhere."

"I am quite of your way of thinking, and intended to ask you to
account for it."

"The Americans are an imitative people of necessity, and they are apt
at this part of imitation, in particular. Then they are less
artificial in all their practices, than older and more sophisticated
nations; and this company has got that essential part of good
breeding, simplicity, as it were _per force_. A step higher in the
social scale, you will see less of it; for greater daring and bad
models lead to blunders in matters that require to be exceedingly
well done, if done at all. The faults here would be more apparent, by
an approach near enough to get into the tone of mind, the forms of
speech, and the attempts at wit."

"Which I think we shall escape to-night, as I see the ladies are
already making their apologies and taking leave. We must defer this
investigation to another time."

"It may be indefinitely postponed, as it would scarcely reward the
trouble of an inquiry."

The gentlemen now approached Mrs. Jarvis, paid their parting
compliments, hunted up Captain Truck, whom they tore by violence from
the good-natured hospitality of the master of the house, and then saw
the ladies into their carriage. As they drove off, the worthy mariner
protested that Mr. Jarvis was one of the honestest men he had ever
met, and announced that he intended giving him a dinner on board the
Montauk, the very next day.

The dwelling of Mrs. Hawker was in Hudson Square; or in a portion of
the city that the lovers of the grandiose are endeavouring to call
St. John's Park; for it is rather an amusing peculiarity among a
certain portion of the emigrants who have flocked into the Middle
States, within the last thirty years, that they are not satisfied
with permitting any family, or thing, to possess the name it
originally enjoyed, if there exists the least opportunity to change
it. There was but a carriage or two before the door, though the
strong lights in the house showed that company had collected.

"Mrs. Hawker is the widow and the daughter of men of long established
New-York families; she is childless, affluent, and universally
respected where known, for her breeding, benevolence, good sense, and
heart," said John Effingham, while the party was driving from one
house to the other. "Were you to go into most of the sets of this
town, and mention Mrs. Hawker's name, not one person in ten would
know there is such a being in their vicinity; the _pêle mêle_ of a
migratory population keeping persons of her character and condition
in life, quite out of view. The very persons who will prattle by the
hour, of the establishments of Mrs. Peleg Pond, and Mrs. Jonah Twist,
and Mrs. Abiram Wattles, people who first appeared on this island
five or six years since, and, who having accumulated what to them are
relatively large fortunes, have launched out into vulgar and
uninstructed finery, would look with surprise at hearing Mrs. Hawker
mentioned as one having any claims to social distinction. Her
historical names are overshadowed in their minds by the parochial
glories of certain local prodigies in the townships whence they
emigrated; her manners would puzzle the comprehension of people whose
imitation has not gone beyond the surface, and her polished and
simple mind would find little sympathy among a class who seldom rise
above a common-place sentiment without getting upon stilts."

"Mrs. Hawker, then, is a lady," observed Sir George Templemore.

"Mrs. Hawker is a lady, in every sense of the word; by position,
education, manners, association, mind, fortune and birth. I do not
know that we ever had more of her class than exist to-day, but
certainly we once had them more prominent in society."

"I suppose, sir," said Captain Truck, "that this Mrs. Hawker is of
what is called the old school?"

"Of a very ancient school, and one that is likely to continue, though
it may not be generally attended."

"I am afraid, Mr. John Effingham, that I shall be like a fish out of
water in such a house. I can get along very well with your Mrs.
Jarvis, and with the dear young lady in the other carriage; but the
sort of woman you have described, will be apt to jam a plain mariner
like myself. What in nature should I do, now, if she should ask me to
dance a minuet?"

"Dance it agreeably to the laws of nature," returned John Effingham,
as the carriages stopped.

A respectable, quiet, and an aged black admitted the party, though
even he did not announce the visiters, while he held the door of the
drawing-room open for them, with respectful attention. Mrs. Hawker
arose, and advanced to meet Eve and her companions, and though she
kissed the cousins affectionately, her reception of Mademoiselle
Viefville was so simply polite as to convince the latter she was
valued on account of her services. John Effingham, who was ten or
fifteen years the junior of the old lady, gallantly kissed her hand,
when he presented his two male companions. After paying the proper
attention to the greatest stranger, Mrs. Hawker turned to Captain
Truck and said--

"This, then, is the gentleman to whose skill and courage you all owe
so much--_we_ all owe so much, I might better have said--the
commander of the Montauk?"

"I have the honour of commanding that vessel, ma'am," returned
Captain Truck, who was singularly awed by the dignified simplicity of
his hostess, although her quiet, natural, and yet finished manner,
which extended even to the intonation of the voice, and the smallest
movement, were as unlike what he had expected as possible; "and with
such passengers as she had last voyage I can only say, it is a pity
that she is not better off for one to take care of her."

"Your passengers give a different account of the matter, but, in
order that I may judge impartially, do me the favour to take this
chair, and let me learn a few of the particulars from yourself."

Observing that Sir George Templemore had followed Eve to the other
side of the room, Mrs. Hawker now resumed her seat, and, without
neglecting any to attend to one in particular, or attending to one in
a way to make him feel oppressed, she contrived, in a few minutes, to
make the captain forget all about the minuet, and to feel much more
at his ease than would have been the case with Mrs. Jarvis, in a
month's intercourse.

In the mean time, Eve had crossed the room to join a lady whose smile
invited her to her side. This was a young, slightly framed female, of
a pleasing countenance, but who would not have been particularly
distinguished, in such a place, for personal charms. Still, her smile
was sweet, her eyes were soft, and the expression of her face was
what might almost be called illuminated As Sir George Templemore
followed her, Eve mentioned his name to her acquaintance, whom she
addressed as Mrs. Bloomfield.

"You are bent on perpetrating further gaiety to-night," said the
latter, glancing at the ball-dresses of the two cousins; "are you in
the colours of the Houston faction, or in those of the Peabody."

"Not in pea-green, certainly," returned Eve, laughing--"as you may
see; but in simple white."

"You intend then to be 'led a measure' at Mrs. Houston's. It were
more suitable than among the other faction."

"Is fashion, then, faction, in New-York?" inquired Sir George.

"Fractions would be a better word, perhaps. But we have parties in
almost every thing, in America; in politics, religion, temperance,
speculations, and taste; why not in fashion?"

"I fear we are not quite independent enough to form parties on such a
subject," said Eve.

"Perfectly well said, Miss Effingham; one must think a little
originally, let it be ever so falsely, in order to get up a fashion.
I fear we shall have to admit our insignificance on this point. You
are a late arrival, Sir George Templemore?"

"As lately as the commencement of this month; I had the honour of
being a fellow-passenger with Mr. Effingham and his family."

"In which voyage you suffered shipwreck, captivity, and famine, if
half we hear be true."

"Report has a little magnified our risks; we encountered some serious
dangers, but nothing amounting to the sufferings you have mentioned."

"Being a married woman, and having passed the crisis in which
deception is not practised, I expect to hear truth again," said Mrs.
Bloomfield, smiling. "I trust, however, you underwent enough to
qualify you all for heroes and heroines, and shall content myself
with knowing that you are here, safe and happy--if," she added,
looking inquiringly at Eve, "one who has been educated abroad _can_
be happy at home."

"One educated abroad _may_ be happy at home, though possibly not in
the modes most practised by the world," said Eve firmly.

"Without an opera, without a court, almost without society!"

"An opera would be desirable, I confess; of courts I know nothing,
unmarried females being cyphers in Europe; and I hope better things
than to think I shall be without society."

"Unmarried females are considered cyphers too, here, provided there
be enough of them with a good respectable digit at their head. I
assure you no one quarrels with the cyphers under such circumstances.
I think, Sir George Templemore, a town like this must be something of
a paradox to you."

"Might I venture to inquire the reason for this opinion!"

"Merely because it is neither one thing nor another. Not a capital,
nor yet merely a provincial place; with something more than commerce
in its bosom, and yet with that something hidden under a bushel. A
good deal more than Liverpool, and a good deal less than London.
Better even than Edinburgh, in many respects, and worse than Wapping,
in others."

"You have been abroad, Mrs. Bloomfield?"

"Not a foot out of my own country; scarcely a foot out of my own
state. I have been at Lake George, the Falls, and the Mountain House;
and, as one does not travel in a balloon, I saw some of the
intermediate places. As for all else, I am obliged to go by report."

"It is a pity Mrs. Bloomfield was not with us, this evening, at Mrs.
Jarvis's," said Eve, laughing. "She might then have increased her
knowledge, by listening to a few cantos from the epic of Mr. Dodge."

"I have glanced at some of that author's wisdom," returned Mrs.
Bloomfield, "but I soon found it was learning backwards. There is a
never-failing rule, by which it is easy to arrive at a traveller's
worth, in a negative sense, at least."

"That is a rule which may be worth knowing," said the baronet, "as it
would save much useless wear of the eyes."

"When one betrays a profound ignorance of his own country, it is a
fair presumption that he cannot be very acute in his observation of
strangers. Mr. Dodge is one of these writers, and a single letter
fully satisfied my curiosity. I fear, Miss Effingham, very inferior
wares, in the way of manners, have been lately imported, in large
quantities, into this country, as having the Tower mark on them."

Eve laughed, but declared that Sir George Templemore was better
qualified than herself to answer such a question.

"We are said to be a people of facts, rather than a people of
theories," continued Mrs. Bloomfield, without attending to the
reference of the young lady, "and any coin that offers passes, until
another that is better, arrives. It is a singular, but a very general
mistake, I believe, of the people of this country, in supposing that
they can exist under the present régime, when others would fail,
because their opinions keep even pace with, or precede the actual
condition of society; whereas, those who have thought and observed
most on such subjects, agree in thinking the very reverse to be the
case."

"This would be a curious condition for a government so purely
conventional," observed Sir George, with interest, "and it certainly
is entirely opposed to the state of things all over Europe."

"It is so, and yet there is no great mystery in it after all.
Accident has liberated us from trammels that still fetter you. We are
like a vehicle on the top of a hill, which, the moment it is pushed
beyond the point of resistance, rolls down of itself, without the aid
of horses. One may follow with the team, and hook on when it gets to
the bottom, but there is no such thing as keeping company with it
until it arrives there."

"You will allow, then, that there is a bottom?'

"There is a bottom to every thing--to good and bad; happiness and
misery; hope, fear, faith and charity; even to a woman's mind, which
I have sometimes fancied the most bottomless thing in nature. There
may, therefore, well be a bottom even to the institutions of
America."

Sir George listened with the interest with which an Englishman of his
class always endeavours to catch a concession that he fancies is
about to favour his own political predilections, and he felt
encouraged to push the subject further.

"And you think the political machine is rolling downwards towards
this bottom?" he said, with an interest in the answer that, living in
the quiet and forgetfulness of his own home, he would have laughed at
himself for entertaining. But our sensibilities become quickened by
collision, and opposition is known even to create love.

Mrs. Bloomfield was quick-witted, intelligent, cultivated and shrewd.
She saw the motive at a glance, and, notwithstanding she saw and felt
all its abuses, strongly attached to the governing principle of her
country's social organization, as is almost universally the case with
the strongest minds and most generous hearts of the nation, she was
not disposed to let a stranger carry away a false impression of her
sentiments on such a point.

"Did you ever study logic, Sir George Templemore?" she asked, archly.

"A little, though not enough I fear to influence my mode of
reasoning, or even to leave me familiar with the terms."

"Oh! I am not about to assail you with _sequiturs_ and _non
sequiturs_ dialectics and all the mysteries of _Denk-Lehre,_ but
simply to remind you there is such a thing as the bottom of a
subject. When I tell you we are flying towards the bottom of our
institutions, it is in the intellectual sense, and not, as you have
erroneously imagined, in an unintellectual sense. I mean that we are
getting to understand them, which, I fear, we did not absolutely do
at the commencement of the 'experiment.'"

"But I think you will admit, that as the civilization of the country
advances, some material changes must occur; your people cannot always
remain stationary; they must either go backwards or forward."

"Up or down, if you will allow me to correct your phraseology. The
civilization of the country, in one sense at least, is retrogressive,
and the people, as they cannot go 'up,' betray a disposition to go
'down.'"

"You deal in enigmas, and I am afraid to think I understand you."

"I mean, merely, that gallowses are fast disappearing, and that the
people--_le peuple_ you will understand--begin to accept money. In
both particulars, I think there is a sensible change for the worse,
within my own recollection."

Mrs. Bloomfield then changed her manner, and from using that light-
hearted gaiety with which she often rendered her conversation
_piquante_, and even occasionally brilliant, she became more grave
and explicit. The subject soon turned to that of punishments, and few
men could have reasoned more sensibly, justly or forcibly, on such a
subject, than this slight and fragile-looking young woman. Without
the least pedantry, with a beauty of language that the other sex
seldom attains, and with a delicacy of discrimination, and a
sentiment that were strictly feminine, she rendered a theme
interesting, that, however important in itself, is forbidding,
veiling all its odious and revolting features in the refinement and
finesse of her own polished mind.

Eve could have listened all night, and, at every syllable that fell
from the lips of her friend, she felt a glow of triumph; for she was
proud of letting an intelligent foreigner see that America did
contain women worthy to be ranked with the best of other countries, a
circumstance that they who merely frequented what is called the
world, she thought might be reasonably justified in distrusting. In
one respect, she even fancied Mrs. Bloomfield's knowledge and
cleverness superior to those which she had so often admired in her
own sex abroad. It was untrammelled, equally by the prejudices
incident to a factitious condition of society, or by their reaction;
two circumstances that often obscured the sense and candour of those
to whom she had so often listened with pleasure in other countries.
The singularly feminine tone, too, of all that Mrs. Bloomfield said
or thought, while it lacked nothing in strength, added to the charm
of her conversation, and increased the pleasure of those that
listened.

"Is the circle large to which Mrs. Hawker and her friends belong?"
asked Sir George, as he assisted Eve and Grace to cloak, when they
had taken leave. "A town which can boast of half-a-dozen such houses
need not accuse itself of wanting society."

"Ah! there is but one Mrs. Hawker in New-York," answered Grace, "and
not many Mrs. Bloomfields in the world. It would be too much to say,
we have even half-a-dozen such houses."

"Have you not been struck with the admirable tone of this drawing-
room," half whispered Eve. "It may want a little of that lofty ease
that one sees among the better portion of the old _Princesses et
Duchesses_, which is a relic of a school that, it is to be feared, is
going out; but in its place there is a winning nature, with as much
dignity as is necessary, and a truth that gives us confidence in the
sincerity of those around us."

"Upon my word, I think Mrs. Hawker quite fit for a Duchess."

"You mean a _Duchesse_" said Eve, "and yet she is without the manner
that we understand by such a word. Mrs. Hawker is a lady, and there
can be no higher term."

"She is a delightful old woman," cried John Effingham, "and if twenty
years younger and disposed to change her condition, I should really
be afraid to enter the house."

"My dear sir," put in the captain, "I will make her Mrs. Truck to-
morrow, and say nothing of years, if she could be content to take up
with such an offer. Why, sir, she is no woman, but a saint in
petticoats! I felt the whole time as if talking to my own mother, and
as for ships, she knows more about them than I do!"

The whole party laughed at the strength of the captain's admiration,
and getting into the carriages proceeded to the last of the houses
they intended visiting that night.

Chapter V.

  "So turns she every man the wrong side out; And never gives to
  truth and virtue, that Which simpleness and merit purchaseth."

  MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING.

Mrs. Houston was what is termed a fashionable woman in New-York. She,
too, was of a family of local note, though of one much less elevated
in the olden time than that of Mrs. Hawker. Still her claims were
admitted by the most fastidious on such points, for a few do remain
who think descent indisputable to gentility; and as her means were
ample, and her tastes perhaps superior to those of most around her,
she kept what was thought a house of better tone than common, even in
the highest circle. Eve had but a slight acquaintance with her; but
in Grace's eyes, Mrs. Houston's was the place of all others that she
thought might make a favourable impression on her cousin. Her wish
that this should prove to be the case was so strong, that, as they
drove towards the door, she could not forbear from making an attempt
to prepare Eve for what she was to meet.

"Although Mrs. Houston has a very large house for New-York, and lives
in a uniform style, you are not to expect ante-chambers, and vast
suites of rooms, Eve," said Grace; "such as you have been accustomed
to see abroad."

"It is not necessary, my dear cousin, to enter a house of four or
five windows in front, to see it is not a house of twenty or thirty.
I should be very unreasonable to expect an Italian palazzo, or a
Parisian hotel, in this good town."

"We are not old enough for that yet, Eve; a hundred years hence,
Mademoiselle Viefville, such things may exist here."

"_Bien sûr. C'est naturel._"

"A hundred years hence, as the world tends, Grace, they are not
likely to exist any where, except as taverns, or hospitals, or
manufactories. But what have we to do, coz, with a century ahead of
us? young as we both are, we cannot hope to live that time."

Grace would have been puzzled to account satisfactorily to herself,
for the strong desire she felt that neither of her companions should
expect to see such a house as their senses so plainly told them did
not exist in the place; but her foot moved in the bottom of the
carriage, for she was not half satisfied with her cousin's answer.

"All I mean. Eve," she said, after a pause, "is, that one ought not
to expect in a town as new as this, the improvements that one sees in
an older state of society."

"And have Mademoiselle Viefville, or I, ever been so weak as to
suppose, that New-York is Paris, or Rome, or Vienna?"

Grace was still less satisfied, for, unknown to herself, she _had_
hoped that Mrs. Houston's ball might be quite equal to a ball in
either of those ancient capitals; and she was now vexed that her
cousin considered it so much a matter of course that it should not
be. But there was no time for explanations, as the carriage now
stopped.

The noise, confusion, calling out, swearing, and rude clamour before
the house of Mrs. Houston, said little for the out-door part of the
arrangements. Coachmen are nowhere a particularly silent and civil
class; but the uncouth European peasants, who have been preferred to
the honours of the whip in New-York, to the usual feelings of
competition and contention, added that particular feature of humility
which is known to distinguish "the beggar on horseback." The imposing
equipages of our party, however, had that effect on most of these
rude brawlers, which a display of wealth is known to produce on the
vulgar-minded; and the ladies got into the house, through a lane of
coachmen, by yielding a little to a _chevau de frise_ of whips,
without any serious calamity.

"One hardly knows which is the most terrific," said Eve,
involuntarily, as soon as the door closed on them--"the noise within,
or the noise without!"

This was spoken rapidly, and in French, to Mademoiselle Viefville,
but Grace heard and understood it, and for the first time in her
life, she perceived that Mrs. Houston's company was not composed of
nightingales. The surprise is that the discovery should have come so
late.

"I am delighted at having got into this house," said Sir George, who,
having thrown his cloak to his own servant, stood with the two other
gentlemen waiting the descent of the ladies from the upper room,
where the bad arrangements of the house compelled them to uncloak and
to put aside their shawls, "as I am told it is the best house in town
to see the other sex."

"To _hear them_, would be nearer the truth, perhaps," returned John
Effingham. "As for pretty women, one can hardly go amiss in New-York;
and your ears now tell you, that they do not come into the world to
be seen only."

The baronet smiled, but he was too well bred to contradict or to
assent. Mademoiselle Viefville, unconscious that she was violating
the proprieties, walked into the rooms by herself, as soon as she
descended, followed by Eve; but Grace shrank to the side of John
Effingham, whose arm she took as a step necessary even to decorum.

Mrs. Houston received her guests with ease and dignity. She was one
of those females that the American world calls gay; in other words,
she opened her own house to a very promiscuous society, ten or a
dozen times in a winter, and accepted the greater part of the
invitations she got to other people's. Still, in most other
countries, as a fashionable woman, she would have been esteemed a
model of devotion to the duties of a wife and a mother, for she paid
a personal attention to her household, and had actually taught all
her children the Lord's prayer, the creed, and the ten commandments.
She attended church twice every Sunday, and only staid at home from
the evening lectures, that the domestics might have the opportunity
of going (which, by the way, they never did) in her stead. Feminine,
well-mannered, rich, pretty, of a very positive social condition, and
naturally kind-hearted and disposed to sociability, Mrs. Houston,
supported by an indulgent husband, who so much loved to see people
with the appearance of happiness, that he was not particular as to
the means, had found no difficulty in rising to the pinnacle of
fashion, and of having her name in the mouths of all those who find
it necessary to talk of somebodies, in order that they may seem to be
somebodies themselves. All this contributed to Mrs. Houston's
happiness, or she fancied it did; and as every passion is known to
increase by indulgence, she had insensibly gone on in her much-envied
career until, as has just been said, she reached the summit.

"These rooms are very crowded," said Sir George, glancing his eyes
around two very pretty little narrow drawing-rooms, that were
beautifully, not to say richly, furnished; "one wonders that the same
contracted style of building should be so very general, in a town
that increases as rapidly as this, and where fashion has no fixed
abode, and land is so abundant."

"Mrs. Bloomfield would tell you," said Eve, "that these houses are
types of the social state of the country, in which no one is
permitted to occupy more than his share of ground."

"But there are reasonably large dwellings in the place. Mrs. Hawker
has a good house, and your father's for instance, would be thought
so, too, in London even; and yet I fancy you will agree with me in
thinking that a good room is almost unknown in New-York."

"I do agree with you, in this particular, certainly, for to meet with
a good room, one must go into the houses built thirty years ago. We
have inherited these snuggeries, however, England not having much to
boast of in the way of houses."

"In the way of town residences, I agree with you entirely, as a
whole, though we have some capital exceptions. Still, I do not think
we are quite as compact as this--do you not fancy the noise increased
in consequence of its being so confined?"

Eve laughed and shook her head quite positively.

"What would it be if fairly let out!" she said. "But we will not
waste the precious moments, but turn our eyes about us in quest of
the _belles_. Grace, you who are so much at home, must be our
cicerone, and tell us which are the idols we are to worship."

"_Dîtes moi premierement; que veut dire une belle à New-York?_"
demanded Mademoiselle Viefville. "_Apparemment, tout le monde est
joli._"

"A _belle_, Mademoiselle," returned John Effingham, "is not
necessarily beautiful, the qualifications for the character, being
various and a little contradictory. One may be a _belle_ by means of
money, a tongue, an eye, a foot, teeth, a laugh, or any other
separate feature, or grace; though no woman was ever yet a _belle_, I
believe, by means of the head, considered collectively. But why deal
in description, when the thing itself confronts us? The young lady
standing directly before us, is a _belle_ of the most approved stamp
and silvery tone. Is it not Miss Ring, Grace?"

The answer was in the affirmative, and the eyes of the whole party
turned towards the subject of this remark. The young lady in question
was about twenty, rather tall for an American woman, not
conspicuously handsome, but like most around her of delicate features
and frame, and with such a _physique_, as, under proper training,
would have rendered her the _beau idéal_ of feminine delicacy and
gentleness. She had natural spirit, likewise, as appeared in her
clear blue eye, and moreover she had the spirit to be a _belle_.

Around this young creature were clustered no less than five young
men, dressed in the height of the fashion, all of whom seemed to be
entranced with the words that fell from her lips, and each of whom
appeared anxious to say something clever in return. They all laughed,
the lady most, and sometimes all spoke at once. Notwithstanding these
outbreakings, Miss Ring did most of the talking, and once or twice,
as a young man would gape after a most exhilarating show of
merriment, and discover an inclination to retreat, she managed to
recall him to his allegiance, by some remark particularly pertinent
to himself, or his feelings.

"_Qui est cette dame?_" asked Mademoiselle Viefville, very much as
one would put a similar question, on seeing a man enter a church
during service with his hat on.

"_Elle est demoiselle_," returned Eve.

"_Quelle horreur!_"

"Nay, nay, Mademoiselle, I shall not allow you to set up France as
immaculate on this point, neither--" said John Effingham, looking at
the last speaker with an affected frown--"A young lady may have a
tongue, and she may even speak to a young gentleman, and not be
guilty of felony; although I will admit that five tongues are
unnecessary, and that five listeners are more than sufficient, for
the wisdom of twenty in petticoats."

"_C'est une horreur!_"

"I dare say Miss Ring would think it a greater horror to be obliged
to pass an evening in a row of girls, unspoken to, except to be asked
to dance, and admired only in the distance. But let us take seats on
that sofa, and then we may go beyond the pantomime, and become
partakers in the sentiment of the scene."

Grace and Eve were now led off to dance, and the others did as John
Effingham had suggested. In the eyes of the _belle_ and her admirers,
they who had passed thirty were of no account, and our listeners
succeeded in establishing themselves quietly within ear-shot--this
was almost at duelling distance, too,--without at all interrupting
the regular action of the piece. We extract a little of the dialogue,
by way of giving a more dramatic representation of the scene.

"Do you think the youngest Miss Danvers beautiful?" asked the
_belle_, while her eye wandered in quest of a sixth gentleman to
"entertain," as the phrase is. "In my opinion, she is absolutely the
prettiest female in Mrs. Houston's rooms this night."

The young men, one and all, protested against this judgment, and with
perfect truth, for Miss Ring was too original to point out charms
that every one could see.

"They say it will not be a match between her and Mr. Egbert, after
every body has supposed it settled so long. What is your opinion, Mr.
Edson?"

This timely question prevented Mr. Edson's retreat, for he had
actually got so far in this important evolution, as to have gaped and
turned his back. Recalled, as it were by the sound of the bugle, Mr.
Edson was compelled to say something, a sore affliction to him
always.

"Oh! I'm quite of your way of thinking; they have certainly courted
too long to think of marrying."

"I detest long courtships; they must be perfect antidotes to love;
are they not, Mr. Moreland?"

A truant glance of Mr. Moreland's eye was rebuked by this appeal, and
instead of looking for a place of refuge, he now merely looked
sheepish. He, however, entirely agreed with the young lady, as the
surer way of getting out of the difficulty.

"Pray, Mr. Summerfield, how do you like the last Hajji--Miss Eve
Effingham? To my notion, she is prettyish, though by no means as well
as her cousin, Miss Van Cortlandt, who is really rather good-
looking."

As Eve and Grace were the two most truly lovely young women in the
rooms, this opinion, as well as the loud tone in which it was given,
startled Mademoiselle Viefville quite as much as the subjects that
the belle had selected for discussion. She would have moved, as
listening to a conversation that was not meant for their ears; but
John Effingham quietly assured her that Miss Ring seldom spoke in
company without intending as many persons as possible to hear her.

"Miss Effingham is very plainly dressed for an only daughter"
continued the young lady, "though that lace of her cousin's is real
point! I'll engage it cost every cent of ten dollars a yard! They are
both engaged to be married, I hear."

"_Ciel!_" exclaimed Mademoiselle Viefville.

"Oh! That is nothing," observed John Effingham coolly. "Wait a
moment, and you'll hear that they have been privately married these
six months, if, indeed, you hear no more."

"Of course this is but an idle tale?" said Sir George Templemore with
a concern, which, in despite of his good breeding, compelled him to
put a question that, under other circumstances, would scarcely have
been permissible.

"As true as the gospel. But listen to the _bell_, it is _ringing_ for
the good of the whole parish."

"The affair between Miss Effingham and Mr. Morpeth, who knew her
abroad, I understand is entirely broken off; some say the father
objected to Mr. Morpeth's want of fortune; others that the lady was
fickle, while some accuse the gentleman of the same vice. Don't you
think it shocking to jilt, in either sex, Mr. Mosely?"

The _retiring_ Mr. Mosely was drawn again within the circle, and was
obliged to confess that he thought it was very shocking, in either
sex, to jilt.

"If I were a man," continued the _belle_, "I would never think of a
young woman who had once jilted a lover. To my mind, it bespeaks a
bad heart, and a woman with a bad heart cannot make a very amiable
wife."

"What an exceedingly clever creature she is," whispered Mr. Mosely to
Mr. Moreland, and he now made up his mind to remain and be
'entertained' some time longer.

"I think poor Mr. Morpeth greatly to be pitied; for no man would be
so silly as to be attentive seriously to a lady without
encouragement. Encouragement is the _ne plus ultra_ of courtship; are
you not of my opinion, Mr. Walworth?"

Mr. Walworth was number five of the entertainees, and he did
understand Latin, of which the young lady, though fond of using
scraps, knew literally nothing. He smiled an assent, therefore, and
the _belle_ felicitated herself in having 'entertained' _him_
effectually; nor was she mistaken.

"Indeed, they say Miss Effingham had several affairs of the heart,
while in Europe, but it seems she was unfortunate in them all."

"_Mais, ceci est trop fort! Je ne peux plus écouter._"

"My dear Mademoiselle, compose yourself. The crisis is not yet
arrived, by any means."

"I understand she still corresponds with a German Baron, and an
Italian Marquis, though both engagements are absolutely broken off.
Some people say she walks into company alone, unsupported by any
gentleman, by way of announcing a firm determination to remain single
for life."

A common exclamation from the young men proclaimed their
disapprobation; and that night three of them actually repeated the
thing, as a well established truth, and two of the three, failing of
something better to talk about, also announced that Eve was actually
engaged to be married.

"There is something excessively indelicate in a young lady's moving
about a room without having a gentleman's arm to lean on! I always
feel as if such a person was out of her place, and ought to be in the
kitchen."

"But, Miss Ring, what well-bred person does it?" sputtered Mr.
Moreland. "No one ever heard of such a thing in good society. 'Tis
quite shocking! Altogether unprecedented."

"It strikes me as being excessively coarse!"

"Oh! manifestly; quite rustic!" exclaimed Mr. Edson.

"What can possibly be more vulgar?" added Mr. Walworth.

"I never heard of such a thing among the right sort!" said Mr.
Mosely.

"A young lady who can be so brazen as to come into a room without a
gentleman's arm to lean on, is, in my judgment at least, but
indifferently educated, Hajji or no Hajji. Mr. Edson, have you ever
felt the tender passion? I know you have been desperately in love,
once, at least; do describe to me some of the symptoms, in order that
I may know when I am seriously attacked myself by the disease."

"_Mais, ceci est ridicule! L'enfant s'est sauvée du Charenton de New-
York._"

"From the nursery rather, Mademoiselle; you perceive she does not yet
know how to walk alone."

Mr. Edson now protested that he was too stupid to feel a passion as
intellectual as love, and that he was afraid he was destined by
nature to remain as insensible as a block.

"One never knows, Mr. Edson," said the young lady, encouragingly.
"Several of my acquaintances, who thought themselves quite safe, have
been seized suddenly, and, though none have actually died, more than
one has been roughly treated, I assure you."

Here the young men, one and all, protested that she was excessively
clever. Then succeeded a pause, for Miss Ring was inviting, with her
eyes, a number six to join the circle, her ambition being
dissatisfied with five entertainees, as she saw that Miss Trumpet, a
rival belle, had managed to get exactly that number, also, in the
other room. All the gentlemen availed themselves of the cessation in
wit to gape, and Mr. Edson took the occasion to remark to Mr.
Summerfield that he understood "lots had been sold in seven hundredth
street that morning, as high as two hundred dollars a lot."

The _quadrille_ now ended, and Eve returned towards her friends. As
she approached, the whole party compared her quiet, simple, feminine,
and yet dignified air, with the restless, beau-catching, and worldly
look of the belle, and wondered by what law of nature, or of fashion,
the one could possibly become the subject of the other's comments.
Eve never appeared better than that evening. Her dress had all the
accuracy and finish of a Parisian toilette, being equally removed
from exaggeration and neglect; and it was worn with the ease of one
accustomed to be elegantly attired, and yet never decked with finery.
Her step even was that of a lady, having neither the mincing tread of
a Paris grisette, a manner that sometimes ascends even to the
_bourgeoise_ the march of a cockneyess, nor the tiptoe swing of a
_belle_; but it was the natural though regulated step, of a trained
and delicate woman. Walk alone she could certainly, and always did,
except on those occasions of ceremony that demanded a partner. Her
countenance, across which an unworthy thought had never left a trace,
was an index, too, to the purity, high principles and womanly self-
respect that controlled all her acts, and, in these particulars was
the very reverse of the feverish, half-hoydenish half-affected
expression of that of Miss Ring.

"They may say what they please," muttered Captain Truck, who had been
a silent but wondering listener of all that passed; "she is worth as
many of them as could be stowed in the Montauk's lower hold."

Miss Ring perceiving Eve approach, was desirous of saying something
to her, for there was an _éclat_ about a Hajji, after all, that
rendered an acquaintance, or even an intimacy desirable, and she
smiled and curtsied. Eve returned the salutation, but as she did not
care to approach a group of six, of which no less than five were men,
she continued to move towards her own party. This reserve compelled
Miss Ring to advance a step or two, when Eve was obliged to stop
Curtsying to her partner, she thanked him for his attention,
relinquished his arm, and turned to meet the lady. At the same
instant the five 'entertainees' escaped in a body, equally rejoiced
at their release, and proud of their captivity.

"I have been dying to come and speak to you, Miss Effingham,"
commenced Miss Ring, "but these _five_ giants (she emphasized the
word we have put in italics) so beset me, that escape was quite
impossible. There ought to be a law that but one gentleman should
speak to a lady at a time."

"I thought there was such a law already;" said Eve, quietly.

"You mean in good breeding; but no one thinks of those antiquated
laws now-a-days. Are you beginning to be reconciled, a little, to
your own country?"

"It is not easy to effect a reconciliation where there has been no
misunderstanding. I hope I have never quarrelled with my country, or
my country with me."

"Oh! it is not exactly that I mean. Cannot one need a reconciliation
without a quarrel? What do you say to this, Mr. Edson?"

Miss Ring having detected some symptoms of desertion in the gentleman
addressed, had thrown in this question by way of recal; when turning
to note its effect, she perceived that all of her _clientelle_ had
escaped. A look of surprise and mortification and vexation it was not
in her power to suppress, and then came one of horror.

"How conspicuous we have made ourselves, and it is all my fault!" she
said, for the first time that evening permitting her voice to fall to
a becoming tone. 'Why, here we actually are, two ladies conversing
together, and no gentleman near us!"

"Is that being conspicuous?" asked Eve, with a simplicity that was
entirely natural.

"I am sure, Miss Effingham, one who has seen as much of society as
you, can scarcely ask that question seriously. I do not think I have
done so improper a thing, since I was fifteen; and, dear me! dear me!
how to escape is the question. You have permitted your partner to go,
and I do not see a gentleman of my acquaintance near us, to give me
his arm!"

"As your distress is occasioned by my company," said Eve, "it is
fortunately in my power to relieve it." Thus saying, she quietly
walked across the room, and took her seat next to Mademoiselle
Viefville.

Miss Ring held up her hands in amazement, and then fortunately
perceiving one of the truants gaping at no great distance, she
beckoned him to her side.

"Have the goodness to give me your arm, Mr. Summerfield," she said,
"I am dying to get out of this unpleasantly conspicuous situation;
but you are the first gentleman that has approached me this
twelvemonth. I would not for the world do so brazen a thing as Miss
Effingham has just achieved; would you believe it, she positively
went from this spot to her seat, quite alone!"

"The Hajjis are privileged."

"They make themselves so. But every body knows how bold and unwomanly
the French females are. One could wish, notwithstanding, that our own
people would not import their audacious usages into this country."

"It is a thousand pities that Mr. Clay, in his compromise, neglected
to make an exception against that article. A tariff on impudence
would not be at all sectional."

"It might interfere with the manufacture at home, notwithstanding,"
said John Effingham; for the lungs were strong, and the rooms of Mrs.
Houston so small, that little was said that evening, which was not
heard by any who chose to listen. But Miss Ring never listened, it
being no part of the vocation of a _belle_ to perform that inferior
office, and sustained by the protecting arm of Mr. Summerfield, she
advanced more boldly into the crowd, where she soon contrived to
catch another group of even six "entertainees." As for Mr.
Summerfield, he lived a twelvemonth on the reputation of the
exceedingly clever thing he had just uttered.

"There come Ned and Aristabulus," said John Effingham, as soon as the
tones of Miss Ring's voice were lost in the din of fifty others,
pitched to the same key. "_A present, Mademoiselle, je vais nous
venger_."

As John Effingham uttered this, he took Captain Truck by the arm, and
went to meet his cousin and the land agent. The latter he soon
separated from Mr. Effingham, and with this new recruit, he managed
to get so near to Miss Ring as to attract her attention. Although
fifty, John Effingham was known to be a bachelor, well connected, and
to have twenty thousand a year. In addition, he was well preserved
and singularly handsome, besides having an air that set all
pretending gentility at defiance. These were qualities that no
_belle_ despised, and ill-assorted matches were, moreover, just
coming into fashion in New-York. Miss Ring had an intuitive knowledge
that he wished to speak to her, and she was not slow in offering the
opportunity. The superior tone of John Effingham, his caustic wit and
knowledge of the world, dispersed the five _beaux_, incontinently;
these persons having a natural antipathy to every one of the
qualities named.

"I hope you will permit me to presume on an acquaintance that extends
back as far as your grandfather, Miss Ring," he said, "to present two
very intimate friends; Mr. Bragg and Mr. Truck; gentlemen who will
well reward the acquaintance."

The lady bowed graciously, for it was a matter of conscience with her
to receive every man with a smile. She was still too much in awe of
the master of ceremonies to open her batteries of attack, but John
Effingham soon relieved her, by affecting a desire to speak to
another lady. The _belle_ had now the two strangers to herself, and
having heard that the Effinghams had an Englishman of condition as a
companion, who was travelling under a false name, she fancied herself
very clever in detecting him at once in the person of Aristabulus;
while by the aid of a lively imagination, she thought Mr. Truck was
his travelling Mentor, and a divine of the church of England. The
incognito she was too well bred to hint at, though she wished both
the gentlemen to perceive that a _belle_ was not to be mystified in
this easy manner. Indeed, she was rather sensitive on the subject of
her readiness in recognizing a man of fashion under any
circumstances, and to let this be known was her very first object, as
soon as she was relieved from the presence of John Effingham.

"You must be struck with the unsophisticated nature and the extreme
simplicity of our society, Mr. Bragg," she said, looking at him
significantly; "we are very conscious it is not what it might be, but
do you not think it pretty well for beginners?"

Now, Mr. Bragg had an entire consciousness that he had never seen any
society that deserved the name before this very night, but he was
supported in giving his opinions by that secret sense of his
qualifications to fill any station, which formed so conspicuous a
trait in his character, and his answer was given with an _àplomb_
that would have added weight to the opinion of the veriest _élégant_
of the _Chaussée d'Antin._

"It is indeed a good deal unsophisticated," he said, "and so simple
that any body can understand it. I find but a single fault with this
entertainment, which is, in all else, the perfection of elegance in
my eyes, and that is, that there is too little room to swing the legs
in dancing."

"Indeed!--I did not expect that--is it not the best usage of Europe,
now, to bring a quadrille into the very minimum of space?"

"Quite the contrary, Miss. All good dancing requires evolutions. The
dancing Dervishes, for instance would occupy quite as much space as
both of these sets that are walking before us, and I believe it is
now generally admitted that all good dancing needs room for the
legs."

"We necessarily get a little behind the fashions, in this distant
country. Pray, sir, is it usual for ladies to walk alone in society?"

"Woman was not made to move through life alone, Miss," returned
Aristabulus with a sentimental glance of the eye, for he never let a
good opportunity for preferment slip through his fingers, and,
failing of Miss Effingham, or Miss Van Cortlandt, of whose estates
and connections he had some pretty accurate notions, it struck him
Miss Ring might, possibly, be a very eligible connection, as all was
grist that came to his mill; "this I believe, is an admitted truth."

"By life you mean matrimony, I suppose."

"Yes, Miss, a man always means matrimony, when he speaks to a young
lady."

This rather disconcerted Miss Ring, who picked her nosegay, for she
was not accustomed to hear gentlemen talk to ladies of matrimony, but
ladies to talk to gentlemen. Recovering her self-possession, however,
she said with a promptitude that, did the school to which she
belonged infinite credit,--

"You speak, sir, like one having experience."

"Certainly, Miss; I have been in love ever since I was ten years old;
I may say I was born in love, and hope to die in love."

This a little out-Heroded Herod, but the _belle_ was not a person to
be easily daunted on such a subject. She smiled graciously,
therefore, and continued the conversation with renewed spirit.

"You travelled gentleman get odd notions," she said, "and more
particularly on such subjects. I always feel afraid to discuss them
with foreigners, though with my own countrymen I have few reserves.
Pray, Mr. Truck, are you satisfied with America?--Do you find it the
country you expected to see?"

"Certainly, marm;" for so they pronounced this word in the river, and
the captain cherished his first impressions; "when we sailed from
Portsmouth. I expected that the first land we should make would be
the Highlands of Navesink; and, although a little disappointed, I
have had the satisfaction of laying eyes on it at last."

"Disappointment, I fear, is the usual fate of those who come from the
other side. Is this dwelling of Mrs. Houston's equal to the residence
of an English nobleman, Mr. Bragg?"

"Considerably better, Miss, especially in the way of republican
comfort."

Miss Ring, like all _belles_, detested the word republican, their
vocation being clearly to exclusion, and she pouted a little
affectedly.

"I should distrust the quality of such comfort, sir," she said, with
point; "but, are the rooms at all comparable with the rooms in Apsley
House, for instance?"

"My dear Miss, Apsley House is a toll-gate lodge, compared to this
mansion! I doubt if there be a dwelling in all England half as
magnificent--indeed, I cannot imagine any thing more brilliant and
rich."

Aristabulus was not a man to do things by halves, and it was a point
of honour with him to know something of every thing. It is true he no
more could tell where Apsley House is, or whether it was a tavern or
a gaol, than he knew half the other things on which he delivered
oracular opinions; but when it became necessary to speak, he was not
apt to balk conversation from any ignorance, real or affected. The
opinion he had just given, it is true, had a little surpassed Miss
Ring's hopes; for the next thing, in her ambition to being a _belle_,
and of "entertaining" gentlemen, was to fancy she was running her
brilliant career in an orbit of fashion that lay parallel to that of
the "nobility and gentry" of Great Britain.

"Well, this surpasses my hopes," she said, "although I was aware we
are nearly on a level with the more improved tastes of Europe: still,
I thought we were a little inferior to that part of the world, yet."

"Inferior, Miss! That is a word that should never pass your lips; you
are inferior to nothing, whether in Europe or America, Asia or
Africa."

As Miss Ring had been accustomed to do most of the flattering
herself, as behoveth a _belle_, she began to be disconcerted with the
directness of the compliments of Aristabulus, who was disposed to
'make hay while the sun shines;' and she turned, in a little
confusion, to the captain, by way of relief; we say confusion, for
the young lady, although so liable to be misunderstood, was not
actually impudent, but merely deceived in the relations of things;
or, in other words, by some confusion in usages, she had hitherto
permitted herself to do that in society, which female performers
sometimes do on the stage; enact the part of a man.

"You should tell Mr. Bragg, sir," she said, with an appealing look at
the captain, "that flattery is a dangerous vice, and one altogether
unsuited to a Christian."

"It is, indeed, marm, and one that I never indulge in. No one under
my orders, can accuse me of flattery."

By 'under orders,' Miss Ring understood curates and deacons; for she
was aware the church of England had clerical distinctions of this
sort, that are unknown in America.

"I hope, sir, you do not intend to quit this country without
favouring us with a discourse."

"Not I, marm--I am discoursing pretty much from morning till night,
when among my own people, though I own that this conversing rather
puts me out of my reckoning. Let me get my foot on the planks I love,
with an attentive audience, and a good cigar in my mouth, and I'll
hold forth with any bishop in the universe."

"A cigar!" exclaimed Miss Ring, in surprise. "Do gentlemen of your
profession use cigars when on duty!"

"Does a parson take his fees? Why, Miss, there is not a man among us,
who does not smoke from morning till night."

"Surely not on Sundays!"

"Two for one, on those days, more than on any other."

"And your people, sir, what do they do, all this time?'

"Why, marm, most of them chew; and those that don't, if they cannot
find a pipe, have a dull time of it. For my part, I shall hardly
relish the good place itself, if cigars are prohibited."

Miss Ring was surprised; but she had heard that the English clergy
were more free than our own, and then she had been accustomed to
think every thing English of the purest water. A little reflection
reconciled her to the innovation; and the next day, at a dinner
party, she was heard defending the usage as a practice that had a
precedent in the ancient incense of the altar. At the moment,
however, she was dying to impart her discoveries to others; and she
kindly proposed to the captain and Aristabulus to introduce them to
some of her acquaintances, as they must find it dull, being
strangers, to know no one. Introductions and cigars were the
captain's hobbies, and he accepted the offer with joy, Aristabulus
uniting cordially in the proposition, as, he fancied he had a right,
under the Constitution of the United States of America, to be
introduced to every human being with whom he came in contact.

It is scarcely necessary to say how much the party with whom the two
neophytes in fashion had come, enjoyed all this, though they
concealed their amusement under the calm exterior of people of the
world. From Mr. Effingham the mystification was carefully concealed
by his cousin, as the former would have felt it due to Mrs. Houston,
a well-meaning, but silly woman, to put an end to it. Eve and Grace
laughed, as merry girls would be apt to laugh, at such an occurrence,
and they danced the remainder of the evening with lighter hearts than
ever. At one, the company retired in the same informal manner, as
respects announcements and the calling of carriages, as that in which
they had entered; most to lay their drowsy heads on their pillows,
and Miss Ring to ponder over the superior manners of a polished young
Englishman, and to dream of the fragrance of a sermon that was
preserved in tobacco.

Chapter VI.

  "Marry, our play is the most lamentable Comedy, and most cruel
  death of Pyramus and Thisby."

  PETER QUINCE.

Our task in the way of describing town society will soon be ended.
The gentlemen of the Effingham family had been invited to meet Sir
George Templemore at one or two dinners, to which the latter had been
invited in consequence of his letters, most of which were connected
with his pecuniary arrangements. As one of these entertainments was
like all the rest of the same character, a very brief account of it
will suffice to let the reader into the secret of the excellence of
the genus.

A well-spread board, excellent viands, highly respectable cookery,
and delicious wines, were every where met. Two rows of men clad in
dark dresses, a solitary female at the head of the table, or, if
fortunate, with a supporter of the same sex near her, invariably
composed the _convives_. The exaggerations of a province were seen
ludicrously in one particular custom. The host, or perhaps it might
have been the hostess, had been told there should be a contrast
between the duller light of the reception-room, and the brilliancy of
the table, and John Effingham actually hit his legs against a stool,
in floundering through the obscurity of the first drawing-room he
entered on one of the occasions in question.

When seated at table, the first great duty of restauration performed,
the conversation turned on the prices of lots, speculations in towns,
or the currency. After this came the regular assay of wines, during
which it was easy to fancy the master of the house a dealer, for he
usually sat either sucking a syphon or flourishing a cork-screw. The
discourse would now have done credit to the annual meeting and dinner
of the German exporters, assembled at Rudesheim to bid for the
article.

Sir George was certainly on the point of forming a very erroneous
judgment concerning the country, when Mr. Effingham extricated him
from this set, and introduced him properly into his own. Here,
indeed, while there was much to strike a European as peculiar, and
even provincial, the young baronet fared much better. He met with the
same quality of table, relieved by an intelligence that was always
respectable, and a manliness of tone which, if not unmixed, had the
great merit of a simplicity and nature that are not always found in
more sophisticated circles. The occasional incongruities struck them
all, more than the positive general faults and Sir George Templemore
did justice to the truth, by admitting frankly, the danger he had
been in of forming a too hasty opinion.

All this time, which occupied a month, the young baronet got to be
more and more intimate in Hudson Square, Eve gradually becoming more
frank and unreserved with him, as she grew sensible that he had
abandoned his hopes of success with herself, and Grace gradually more
cautious and timid, as she became conscious of his power to please,
and the interest he took in herself.

It might have been three days after the ball at Mrs. Houston's that
most of the family was engaged to look in on a Mrs. Legend, a lady of
what was called a literary turn, Sir George having been asked to make
one of their party. Aristabulus was already returned to his duty in
the country, where we shall shortly have occasion to join him, but an
invitation had been sent to Mr. Truck, under the general, erroneous
impression of his real character.

Taste, whether in the arts, literature, or any thing else, is a
natural impulse, like love. It is true both may be cultivated and
heightened by circumstances, but the impulses must be voluntary, and
the flow of feeling, or of soul, as it has become a law to style it,
is not to be forced, or commanded to come and go at will. This is the
reason that all premeditated enjoyments connected with the intellect,
are apt to baffle expectations, and why academies, literary clubs,
coteries and dinners are commonly dull. It is true that a body of
clever people may be brought together, and, if left to their own
impulses, the characters of their mind will show themselves; wit will
flash, and thought will answer thought spontaneously; but every
effort to make the stupid agreeable, by giving a direction of a
pretending intellectual nature to their efforts, is only rendering
dullness more conspicuous by exhibiting it in contrast with what it
ought to be to be clever, as a bad picture is rendered the more
conspicuous by an elaborate and gorgeous frame.

The latter was the fate of most of Mrs. Legend's literary evenings,
at which it was thought an illustration to understand even one
foreign language. But, it was known that Eve was skilled in most of
the European tongues, and, the good lady, not feeling that such
accomplishments are chiefly useful as a means, looked about her in
order to collect a set, among whom our heroine might find some one
with whom to converse in each of her dialects. Little was said about
it, it is true, but great efforts were made to cause this evening to
be memorable in the annals of _conversazioni_.

In carrying out this scheme, nearly all the wits, writers, artists
and _literati_, as the most incorrigible members of the book clubs
were styled, in New-York, were pressingly invited to be present.
Aristabulus had contrived to earn such a reputation for the captain,
on the night of the ball, that he was universally called a man of
letters, and an article had actually appeared in one of the papers,
speaking of the literary merits of the "Hon. and Rev. Mr. Truck, a
gentleman travelling in our country, from whose liberality and just
views, an account of our society was to be expected, that should, at
last, do justice to our national character." With such expectations,
then, every true American and Americaness, was expected to be at his
or her post, for the solemn occasion. It was a rally of literature,
in defence of the institutions--no, not of the institutions, for they
were left to take care of themselves--but of the social character of
the community.

Alas! it is easier to feel high aspirations on such subjects, in a
provincial town, than to succeed; for merely calling a place an
Emporium, is very far from giving it the independence, high tone,
condensed intelligence and tastes of a capital. Poor Mrs. Legend,
desirous of having all the tongues duly represented, was obliged to
invite certain dealers in gin from Holland, a German linen merchant
from Saxony, an Italian _Cavaliero_, who amused himself in selling
beads, and a Spanish master, who was born in Portugal, all of whom
had just one requisite for conversation in their respective
languages, and no more. But such assemblies were convened in Paris,
and why not in New-York?

We shall not stop to dwell on the awful sensations with which Mrs.
Legend heard the first ring at her door, on the eventful night in
question. It was the precursor of the entrance of Miss Annual, as
regular a devotee of letters as ever conned a primer. The meeting was
sentimental and affectionate. Before either had time, however, to
disburthen her mind of one half of its prepared phrases, ring upon
ring proclaimed more company, and the rooms were soon as much
sprinkled with talent, as a modern novel with jests. Among those who
came first, appeared all the foreign corps, for the refreshments
entered as something into the account with them; every blue of the
place, whose social position in the least entitled her to be seen in
such a house, Mrs. Legend belonging quite positively to good society.

The scene that succeeded was very characteristic. A professed genius
does nothing like other people, except in cases that require a
display of talents. In all minor matters he, or she, is _sui
generis_; for sentiment is in constant ebullition in their souls;
this being what is meant by the flow of that part of the human
system.

We might here very well adopt the Homeric method, and call the roll
of heroes and heroines, in what the French would term a _catalogue
raisonnée_; but our limits compel us to be less ambitions, and to
adopt a simpler mode of communicating facts. Among the ladies who now
figured in the drawing-room of Mrs. Legend, besides Miss Annual, were
Miss Monthly, Mrs. Economy, S.R.P., Marion, Longinus, Julietta,
Herodotus, D.O.V.E., and Mrs. Demonstration; besides many others of
less note; together with at least a dozen female Hajjis, whose claims
to appear in such society were pretty much dependent on the fact,
that having seen pictures and statues abroad, they necessarily must
have the means of talking of them at home. The list of men was still
more formidable in numbers, if not in talents. At its head stood
Steadfast Dodge, Esquire, whose fame as a male Hajji had so far
swollen since Mrs Jarvis's _réunion_, that, for the first time in his
life, he now entered one of the better houses of his own country.
Then there were the authors of "Lapis Lazuli," "The Aunts," "The
Reformed," "The Conformed," "The Transformed," and "The Deformed;"
with the editors of "The Hebdomad," "The Night Cap," "The Chrysalis,"
"The Real Maggot," and "The Seek no Further;" as also, "Junius,"
"Junius Brutus," "Lucius Junius Brutus," "Captain Kant," "Florio,"
the 'Author of the History of Billy Linkum Tweedle', the celebrated
Pottawattamie Prophet, "Single Rhyme," a genius who had prudently
rested his fame in verse, on a couplet composed of one line; besides
divers _amateurs_ and _connoisseurs_, Hajjis, who _must_ be men of
talents, as they had acquired all they knew, very much as American
Eclipse gained his laurels on the turf; that is to say, by a free use
of the whip and spur.

As Mrs. Legend sailed about her rooms amid such a circle, her mind
expanded, her thoughts diffused themselves among her guests on the
principle of Animal Magnetism, and her heart was melting with the
tender sympathies of congenial tastes. She felt herself to be at the
head of American talents, and, in the secret recesses of her reason,
she determined that, did even the fate of Sodom and Gomorrah menace
her native town, as some evil disposed persons had dared to insinuate
might one day be the case, here was enough to save it from
destruction.

It was just as the mistress of the mansion had come to this consoling
conclusion, that the party from Hudson Square rang. As few of her
guests came in carriages, Mrs. Legend, who heard the rolling of
wheels, felt persuaded that the lion of the night was now indeed at
hand; and with a view to a proper reception, she requested the
company to divide itself into two lines, in order that he might
enter, as it were, between lanes of genius.

It may be necessary to explain, at this point of our narrative, that
John Effingham was perfectly aware of the error which existed in
relation to the real character of Captain Truck, wherein he thought
great injustice had been done the honest seaman; and, the old man
intending to sail for London next morning, had persuaded him to
accept this invitation, in order that the public mind might be
disabused in a matter of so much importance. With a view that this
might be done naturally and without fuss, however, he did not explain
the mistake to his nautical friend, believing it most probable that
this could be better done incidentally, as it were, in the course of
the evening; and feeling certain of the force of that wholesome
apothegm, which says that "truth is powerful and must prevail" "If
this be so," added John Effingham, in his explanations to Eve, "there
can be no place where the sacred quality will be so likely to assert
itself, as in a galaxy of geniuses, whose distinctive characteristic
is 'an intuitive perception of things in their real colours."

When the door of Mrs. Legend's drawing-room opened, in the usual
noiseless manner, Mademoiselle Viefville, who led the way, was
startled at finding herself in the precise situation of one who is
condemned to run the gauntlet. Fortunately, she caught a glimpse of
Mrs. Legend, posted at the other end of the proud array, inviting
her, with smiles, to approach. The invitation had been to a
"_literary fête_," and Mademoiselle Viefville was too much of a
Frenchwoman to be totally disconcerted at a little scenic effect on
the occasion of a _fête_ of any sort. Supposing she was now a witness
of an American ceremony for the first time, for the want of
_representation_ in the country had been rather a subject of
animadversion with her, she advanced steadily towards the mistress of
the house, bestowing smile for smile, this being a part of the
_programme_ at which a _Parisienne_ was not easily outdone. Eve
followed, as usual, _sola_; Grace came next; then Sir George; then
John Effingham; the captain bringing up the rear. There had been a
friendly contest, for the precedency, between the two last, each
desiring to yield it to the other on the score of merit; but the
captain prevailed, by declaring "that he was navigating an unknown
sea, and that he could do nothing wiser than to sail in the wake of
so good a pilot as Mr. John Effingham."

As Hajjis of approved experience, the persons who led the advance in
this little procession, were subjects of a proper attention and
respect; but as the admiration of mere vulgar travelling would in
itself be vulgar, care was taken to reserve the condensed feeling of
the company for the celebrated English writer and wit, who was known
to bring up the rear. This was not a common house, in which dollars
had place, or _belles_ rioted, but the temple of genius; and every
one felt an ardent desire to manifest a proper homage to the
abilities of the established foreign writer, that should be in exact
proportion to their indifference to the twenty thousand a year of
John Effingham, and to the nearly equal amount of Eve's expectations.

The personal appearance of the honest tar was well adapted to the
character he was thus called on so unexpectedly to support. His hair
had long been getting grey, but the intense anxiety of the chase, of
the wreck, and of his other recent adventures, had rapidly, but
effectually, increased this mark of time; and his head was now nearly
as white as snow. The hale, fresh, red of his features, which was in
truth the result of exposure, might very well pass for the tint of
port, and his tread, which had always a little of the quarterdeck
swing about it, might quite easily be mistaken by a tyro, for the
human frame staggering under a load of learning. Unfortunately for
those who dislike mystifications, the captain had consulted John
Effingham on the subject of the toilette, and that kind and indulgent
friend had suggested the propriety of appearing in black small-
clothes for the occasion, a costume that he often wore himself of an
evening. Reality, in this instance, then, did not disappoint
expectation, and the burst of applause with which the captain was
received, was accompanied by a general murmur in commendation of the
admirable manner in which he "looked the character."

"What a Byronic head," whispered the author of "The Transformed" to
D.O.V.E.; "and was there ever such a curl of the lip, before, to
mortal man!"

The truth is, the captain had thrust his tobacco into "an aside," as
a monkey is known to _empocher_ a spare nut, or a lump of sugar.

"Do you think him Byronic?--To my eye, the cast of his head is
Shaksperian, rather; though I confess there is a little of Milton
about the forehead!"

"Pray," said Miss Annual, to Lucius Junius Brutus, "which is commonly
thought to be the best of his works; that on a--a--a,--or that on e--
e--e?"

Now, so it happened, that not a soul in the room, but the lion
himself, had any idea what books he had written, and he knew only of
some fifteen or twenty log-books. It was generally understood, that
he was a great English writer, and this was more than sufficient.

"I believe the world generally prefers the a--a--a," said Lucius
Junius Brutus; "but the few give a decided preference to the e--e--
e----"

"Oh! out of all question preferable!" exclaimed half a dozen, in
hearing.

"With what a classical modesty he pays his compliments to Mrs.
Legend," observed "S. R. P."--"One can always tell a man of real
genius, by his _tenu_!"

"He is so English!" cried Florio. "Ah! _they_ are the only people,
after all!"

This Florio was one of those geniuses who sigh most for the things
that they least possess.

By this time Captain Truck had got through with listening to the
compliments of Mrs. Legend, when he, was seized upon by a circle of
rabid literati, who badgered him with questions concerning his
opinions, notions, inferences, experiences, associations, sensations,
sentiments and intentions, in a way that soon threw the old man into
a profuse perspiration. Fifty times did he wish, from the bottom of
his soul, that soul which the crowd around him fancied dwelt so nigh
in the clouds, that he was seated quietly by the side of Mrs. Hawker,
who, he mentally swore, was worth all the _literati_ in Christendom.
But fate had decreed otherwise, and we shall leave him to his
fortune, for a time, and return to our heroine and her party.

As soon as Mrs. Legend had got through with her introductory
compliments to the captain, she sought Eve and Grace, with a
consciousness that a few civilities were now their due.

"I fear, Miss Effingham, after the elaborate _soirées_ of the
literary circles in Paris, you will find our _réunions_ of the same
sort, a little dull; and yet I flatter myself with having assembled
most of the talents of New-York on this memorable occasion, to do
honour to your friend. Are you acquainted with many of the company?"

Now, Eve had never seen nor ever heard of a single being in the room,
with the exception of Mr. Dodge and her own party, before this night,
although most of them had been so laboriously employed in puffing
each other into celebrity, for many weary years; and, as for
elaborate _soirées_, she thought she had never seen one half as
elaborate as this of Mrs. Legend's. As it would not very well do,
however, to express all this in words, she civilly desired the lady
to point out to her some of the most distinguished of the company.

"With the greatest pleasure, Miss Effingham," Mrs. Legend taking
pride in dwelling on the merits of her guests.--"This heavy, grand-
looking personage, in whose air one sees refinement and modesty at a
glance, is Captain Kant, the editor of one of our most decidedly
pious newspapers. His mind is distinguished for its intuitive
perception of all that is delicate, reserved and finished in the
intellectual world, while, in opposition to this quality, which is
almost feminine, his character is just as remarkable for its
unflinching love of truth. He was never known to publish a falsehood,
and of his foreign correspondence, in particular, he is so
exceedingly careful, that he assures me he has every word of it
written under his own eye."

"On the subject of his religious scruples," added John Effingham, "he
is so fastidiously exact, that I hear he 'says grace' over every
thing that goes _from_ his press, and 'returns thanks' for every
thing that comes _to_ it."

"You know him, Mr. Effingham, by this remark? Is he not, truly, a man
of a vocation?"

"That, indeed, he is, ma'am. He may be succinctly said to have a
newspaper mind, as he reduces every thing in nature or art to news,
and commonly imparts to it so much of his own peculiar character,
that it loses all identity with the subjects to which it originally
belonged. One scarcely knows which to admire most about this man, the
atmospheric transparency of his motives, for he is so disinterested
as seldom even to think of paying for a dinner when travelling, and
yet so conscientious as always to say something obliging of the
tavern as soon as he gets home--his rigid regard to facts; or the
exquisite refinement and delicacy that he imparts to every thing he
touches. Over all this, too, he throws a beautiful halo of morality
and religion, never even prevaricating in the hottest discussion,
unless with the unction of a saint!"

"Do you happen to know Florio?" asked Mrs. Legend, a little
distrusting John Effingham's account of Captain Kant.

"If I do, it must indeed be by accident. What are his chief
characteristics, ma'am?"

"Sentiment, pathos, delicacy, and all in rhyme, too. You no doubt,
have heard of his triumph over Lord Byron, Miss Effingham?"

Eve was obliged to confess that it was new to her.

"Why, Byron wrote an ode to Greece, commencing with 'The Isles of
Greece! the Isles of Greece!' a very feeble line, as any one will
see, for it contained a useless and an unmeaning repetition."

"And you might add vulgar, too, Mrs. Legend," said John Effingham,
"since it made a palpable allusion to all those vulgar incidents that
associate themselves in the mind, with these said common-place isles.
The arts, philosophy, poetry, eloquence, and even old Homer, are
brought unpleasantly to one's recollection, by such an indiscreet
invocation."

"So Florio thought, and, by way of letting the world perceive the
essential difference between the base and the pure coin, _he_ wrote
an ode on England, which commenced as such an ode _should_!"

"Do you happen to recollect any of it, ma'am?"

"Only the first line, which I greatly regret, as the rhyme is
Florio's chief merit. But this line is, of itself, sufficient to
immortalize a man."

"Do not keep us in torment, dear Mrs. Legend, but let us have it, of
heaven's sake!"

"It began in this sublime strain, sir--'Beyond the wave!--Beyond the
wave!' Now, Miss Effingham, that is what _I_ call poetry!"

"And well you may, ma'am," returned the gentleman, who perceived Eve
could scarce refrain from breaking out in a very unsentimental
manner--"So much pathos."

"And so sententious and flowing!"

"Condensing a journey of three thousand miles, as it might be, into
three words, and a note of admiration. I trust it was printed with a
note of admiration, Mrs. Legend?"

"Yes, sir, with two--one behind each wave--and such waves, Mr.
Effingham!"

"Indeed, ma'am, you may say so. One really gets a grand idea of them,
England lying beyond each."

"So much expressed in so few syllables!"

"I think I see every shoal, current, ripple, rock, island, and whale,
between Sandy Hook and the Land's End."

"He hints at an epic."

"Pray God he may execute one. Let him make haste, too, or he may get
'behind the age,' 'behind the age.'"

Here the lady was called away to receive a guest.

"Cousin Jack!"

"Eve Effingham?"

"Do you not sometimes fear offending?"

"Not a woman who begins with expressing her admiration of such a
sublime thing as this. You are safe with such a person, any where
short of a tweak of the nose."

"_Mais, tout ceci est bien drôle!_"

"You never were more mistaken in your life, Mademoiselle; every body
here looks upon it as a matter of life and death."

The new guest was Mr. Pindar, one of those careless, unsentimental
fellows, that occasionally throw off an ode that passes through
Christendom, as dollars are known to pass from China to Norway, and
yet, who never fancied spectacles necessary to his appearance,
solemnity to his face, nor _soirées_ to his renown. After quitting
Mrs. Legend, he approached Eve, to whom he was slightly known, and
accosted her.

"This is the region of taste, Miss Effingham," he said, with a shrug
of the jaw, if such a member can shrug; "and I do not wonder at
finding you here."

He then chatted pleasantly a moment, with the party, and passed on,
giving an ominous gape, as he drew nearer to the _oi polloi_ of
literature. A moment after appeared Mr. Gray, a man who needed
nothing but taste in the public, and the encouragement that would
follow such a taste, to stand at, or certainty near, the head of the
poets of our own time. He, too, looked shily at the galaxy, and took
refuge in a corner. Mr. Pith followed; a man whose caustic wit needs
only a sphere for its exercise, manners to portray, and a society
with strong points about it to illustrate, in order to enrol his name
high on the catalogue of satirists. Another ring announced Mr. Fun, a
writer of exquisite humour, and of finished periods, but who, having
perpetrated a little too much sentiment, was instantly seized upon by
all the ultra ladies who were addicted to the same taste in that way,
in the room.

These persons came late, like those who had already been too often
dosed in the same way, to be impatient of repetitions. The three
first soon got together in a corner, and Eve fancied they were
laughing at the rest of the company; whereas, in fact, they were
merely laughing at a bad joke of their own; their quick perception of
the ludicrous having pointed out a hundred odd combinations and
absurdities, that would have escaped duller minds.

"Who, in the name of the twelve Caesars, has Mrs. Legend got to
lionize, yonder, with the white summit and the dark base?' asked the
writer of odes.

"Some English pamphleteer, by what I can learn," answered he of
satire; "some fellow who has achieved a pert review, or written a
Minerva Pressism, and who now flourishes like a bay tree among us. A
modern Horace, or a Juvenal on his travels."

"Fun is well badgered," observed Mr. Gray.--"Do you not see that Miss
Annual, Miss Monthly, and that young alphabet D.O.V.E., have got him
within the circle of their petticoats, where he will be martyred on a
sigh?"

"He casts tanging looks this way; he wishes you to go to his rescue,
Pith."

"I!--Let him take his fill of sentiment! I am no homoepathist in such
matters. Large doses in quick succession will soonest work a cure.
Here comes the lion and he breaks loose from his cage, like a beast
that has been poked up with sticks."

"Good evening, gentlemen," said Captain Truck, wiping his face
intensely, and who having made his escape from a throng of admirers,
took refuge in the first port that offered. "You seem to be enjoying
yourselves here in a rational and agreeable way. Quite cool and
refreshing in this corner."

"And yet we have no doubt that both our reason and our amusement will
receive a large increase from the addition of your society, sir,"
returned Mr. Pith.--"Do us the favour to take a seat, I beg of you,
and rest yourself."

"With all my heart, gentlemen; for, to own the truth, these ladies
make warm work about a stranger. I have just got out of what I call a
category."

"You appear to have escaped with life, sir," observed Pindar, taking
a cool survey of the other's person.

"Yes, thank God, I have done that, and it is pretty much all,"
answered the captain, wiping his face. "I served in the French war--
Truxtun's war, as we call it--and I had a touch with the English in
the privateer trade, between twelve and fifteen; and here, quite
lately, I was in an encounter with the savage Arabs down on the coast
of Africa; and I account them all as so much snow-balling, compared
with the yard-arm and yard-arm work of this very night. I wonder if
it is permitted to try a cigar at these conversation-onies,
gentlemen?"

"I believe it is, sir," returned Pindar, coolly. "Shall I help you to
a light?"

"Oh! Mr. Truck!" cried Mrs. Legend, following the chafed animal to
his corner, as one would pursue any other runaway, "instinct has
brought you into this good company. You are, now, in the very focus
of American talents."

"Having just escaped from the focus of American talons," whispered
Pith.

"I must be permitted to introduce you myself. Mr. Truck, Mr. Pindar--
Mr. Pith--- Mr. Gray--gentlemen, you must be so happy to be
acquainted, being, as it were, engaged in the same pursuits!"

The captain rose and shook each of the gentlemen cordially by the
hand, for he had, at least, the consolation of a great many
introductions that night. Mrs. Legend disappeared to say something to
some other prodigy.

"Happy to meet you, gentlemen," said the captain "In what trade do
you sail?"

"By whatever name we may call it," answered Mr. Pindar--"we can
scarcely be said to go before the wind."

"Not in the Injee business, then, or the monsoons would keep the
stun'sails set, at least."

"No, sir.--But yonder is Mr. Moccasin, who has lately set up,
_secundum artem_, in the Indian business, having written two novels
in that way already, and begun a third."

"Are you all regularly employed, gentlemen?"

"As regularly as inspiration points," said Mr. Pith. "Men of our
occupation must make fair weather of it, or we had better be doing
nothing."

"So I often tell my owners, but 'go ahead' is the order. When I was a
youngster, a ship remained in port for a fair wind; but, now, she
goes to work and makes one. The world seems to get young, as I get
old."

"This is a _rum litterateur_," Gray whispered to Pindar.

"It is an obvious mystification," was the answer; "poor Mrs. Legend
has picked up some straggling porpoise, and converted him, by a touch
of her magical wand, into a Boanerges of literature. The thing is as
clear as day, for the worthy fellow smells of tar and cigar smoke. I
perceive that Mr. Effingham is laughing out of the corner of his
eyes, and will step across the room, and get the truth, in a minute."

The rogue was as good as his word, and was soon back again, and
contrived to let his friends understand the real state of the case. A
knowledge of the captain's true character encouraged this trio in the
benevolent purpose of aiding the honest old seaman in his wish to
smoke, and Pith managed to give him a lighted paper, without becoming
an open accessary to the plot.

"Will you take a cigar yourself, sir," said the captain, offering his
box to Mr. Pindar.

"I thank you, Mr. Truck, I never smoke, but am a profound admirer of
the flavour. Let me entreat you to begin as soon as possible."

Thus encouraged, Captain Truck drew two or three whiffs, when the
rooms were immediately filled with the fragrance of a real Havana. At
the first discovery, the whole literary pack went off on the scent.
As for Mr. Fun, he managed to profit by the agitation that followed,
in order to escape to the three wags in the corner, who were enjoying
the scene, with the gravity of so many dervishes.

"As I live," cried Lucius Junius Brutus, "there is the author of a--
a--a--actually smoking a cigar!--How excessively _piquant!_"

"Do my eyes deceive me, or is not that the writer of e--e--e--
fumigating us all!" whispered Miss Annual.

"Nay, this cannot certainly be right," put in Florio, with a
dogmatical manner. "All the periodicals agree that smoking is
ungenteel in England."

"You never were more mistaken, dear Florio," replied D.O.V.E. in a
cooing tone. "The very last novel of society has a chapter in which
the hero and heroine smoke in the declaration scene."

"Do they, indeed!--That alters the case. Really, one would not wish
to get behind so great a nation, nor yet go much before it. Pray,
Captain Kant, what do your friends in Canada say; is, or is not
smoking permitted in good society there? the Canadians must, at
least, be ahead of us."

"Not at all, sir," returned the editor in his softest tones; "it is
revolutionary and jacobinical."

But the ladies prevailed, and, by a process that is rather peculiar
to what may be called a "credulous" state of society, they carried
the day. This process was simply to make one fiction authority for
another. The fact that smoking was now carried so far in England,
that the clergy actually used cigars in the pulpits, was affirmed on
the authority of Mr. Truck himself, and, coupled with his present
occupation, the point was deemed to be settled. Even Florio yielded,
and his plastic mind soon saw a thousand beauties in the usage, that
had hitherto escaped it. All the literati drew round the captain in a
circle, to enjoy the spectacle, though the honest old mariner
contrived to throw out such volumes of vapour as to keep them at a
safe distance. His four demure-looking neighbours got behind the
barrier of smoke, where they deemed themselves entrenched against the
assaults of sentimental petticoats, for a time, at least.

"Pray, Mr. Truck," inquired S.R.P., "is it commonly thought in the
English literary circles, that Byron was a developement of
Shakspeare, or Shakspeare a shadowing forth of Byron?"

"Both, marm," said the captain, with a coolness that would have done
credit to Aristabulus, for he had been fairly badgered into
impudence, profiting by the occasion to knock the ashes off his
cigar; "all incline to the first opinion, and most to the last."

"What finesse!" murmured one. "How delicate!" whispered a second. "A
dignified reserve!" ejaculated a third. "So English!" exclaimed
Florio.

"Do you think, Mr. Truck," asked D.O.V.E. "that the profane songs of
Little have more pathos than the sacred songs of Moore; or that the
sacred songs of Moore have more sentiment than the profane songs of
Little?"

"A good deal of both, marm, and something to spare. I think there is
little in one, and more in the other."

"Pray, sir," said J.R.P., "do you pronounce the name of Byron's lady-
love, Guy-kee-oh-_ly_, or, Gwy-ky-o-_lee_?"

"That depends on how the wind is. If on shore, I am apt to say 'oh-
lee;' and if off shore, 'oh-lie.'"

"That's capital!" cried Florio, in an extasy of admiration. "What man
in this country could have said as crack a thing as that?"

"Indeed it is very witty," added Miss Monthly--"what does it mean?"

"Mean! More than is seen or felt by common minds. Ah! the English are
truly a great nation!--How delightfully he smokes!"

"I think he is much the most interesting man we have had out here,"
observed Miss Annual, "since the last bust of Scott!"

"Ask him, dear D.O.V.E.," whispered Julietta, who was timid, from the
circumstance of never having published, "which he thinks the most
ecstatic feeling, hope or despair?"

The question was put by the more experienced lady, according to
request, though she first said, in a hurried tone, to her youthful
sister--"you can have felt but little, child, or you would know that
it is despair, as a matter of course."

The honest captain, however, did not treat the matter so lightly, for
he improved the opportunity to light a fresh cigar, throwing the
still smoking stump into Mrs. Legend's grate, through a lane of
literati, as he afterwards boasted, as coolly as he could have thrown
it overboard, under other circumstances. Luckily for his reputation
for sentiment, he mistook "ecstatic," a word he had never heard
before, for "erratic;" and recollecting sundry roving maniacs that he
had seen, he answered promptly--

"Despair, out and out."

"I knew it," said one.

"It's in nature," added a second.

"All can feel its truth," rejoined a third.

"This point may now be set down as established," cried Florio, "and I
hope no more will be said about it."

"This is encouragement to the searchers after truth," put in Captain
Kant.

"Pray, Hon. and Rev. Mr. Truck," asked Lucius Junius Brutus, at the
joint suggestion of Junius Brutus and Brutus, "does the Princess
Victoria smoke?"

"If she did not, sir, where would be the use in being a princess. I
suppose you know that all the tobacco seized in England, after a
deduction to informers, goes to the crown."

"I object to this usage," remarked Captain Kant, "as irreligious,
French, and tending to _sans-culotteism_. I am willing to admit of
this distinguished instance as an exception; but on all other
grounds, I shall maintain that it savours of infidelity to smoke. The
Prussian government, much the best of our times, never smokes."

"This man thinks he has a monopoly of the puffing, himself," Pindar
whispered into the captain's ear; "whiff away, my dear sir, and
you'll soon throw him into the shade."

The captain winked, drew out his box, lighted another cigar, and, by
way of reply to the envious remark, he put one in each corner of his
mouth, and soon had both in full blast, a state in which he kept them
for near a minute.

"This is the very picturesque of social enjoyment," exclaimed Florio,
holding up both hands in a glow of rapture. "It is absolutely
Homeric, in the way of usages! Ah! the English are a great nation!"

"I should like to know excessively if there was really such a person
as Baron Mun-chaw-sen?" said Julietta, gathering courage from the
success of her last question.

"There was, Miss," returned the captain, through his teeth, and
nodding his head in the affirmative. "A regular traveller, that; and
one who knew him well, swore to me that he hadn't related one half of
what befel him."

"How very delightful to learn this from the highest quarter!"
exclaimed Miss Monthly.

"Is Gatty (Goethe) really dead?" inquired Longinus, "or, is the
account we have had to that effect, merely a metaphysical apotheosis
of his mighty soul?"

"Dead, marm--stone dead--dead as a door-nail," returned the captain,
who saw a relief in killing as many as possible.

"You have been in France, Mr. Truck, beyond question?" observed
Lucius Junius Brutus, in the way one puts a question.

"France!--I was in France before I was ten years old. I know every
foot of the coast, from Havre de Grace to Marseilles."

"Will you then have the goodness to explain to us whether the soul of
Chat-_to_-bri-_ong_ is more expanded than his reason, or his reason
more expanded than his soul?"

Captain Truck had a very tolerable notion of Baron Munchausen and of
his particular merits; but Chateaubriant was a writer of whom he knew
nothing. After pondering a moment, and feeling persuaded that a
confession of ignorance might undo him; for the old man had got to be
influenced by the atmosphere of the place; he answered coolly--

"Oh! Chat-_to_-bri-_ong_, is it you mean?--As whole-souled a fellow
as I know. All soul, sir, and lots of reason, besides."

"How simple and unaffected!"

"Crack!" exclaimed Florio.

"A thorough Jacobin!" growled Captain Kant, who was always offended
when any one but himself took liberties with the truth.

Here the four wags in the corner observed that head went to head in
the crowd, and that the rear rank of the company began to disappear,
while Mrs. Legend was in evident distress. In a few minutes, all the
Romans were off; Florio soon after vanished, grating his teeth in a
poetical frenzy; and even Captain Kant, albeit so used to look truth
in the face, beat a retreat. The alphabet followed, and even the
Annual and the Monthly retired, with leave-takings so solemn and
precise, that poor Mrs. Legend was in total despair.

Eve, foreseeing something unpleasant, had gone away first, and, in a
few minutes, Mr. Dodge, who had been very active in the crowd,
whispering and gesticulating, made his bow also. The envy of this man
had, in fact, become so intolerable, that he had let the cat out of
the bag. No one now remained but the party entrenched behind the
smoke, and the mistress of the house. Pindar solemnly proposed to the
captain that they should go and enjoy an oyster-supper, in company;
and, the proposal being cordially accepted, they rose in a body, to
take leave.

"A most delightful evening, Mrs. Legend," said Pindar, with perfect
truth, "much the pleasantest I ever passed in a house, where one
passes so many that are agreeable."

"I cannot properly express my thanks for the obligation you have
conferred by making me acquainted with Mr. Truck," added Gray. "I
shall cultivate it as far as in my power, for a more capital fellow
never breathed."

"Really, Mrs. Legend, this has been a Byronic night!" observed Pith,
as he made his bow. "I shall long remember it, and I think it
deserves to be commemorated in verse"

Fun endeavoured to look sympathetic and sentimental, though the
spirit within could scarcely refrain from grinning in Mrs. Legend's
face. He stammered out a few compliments, however, and disappeared.

"Well, good night, marm," said Captain Truck, offering his hand
cordially. "This has been a pleasant evening, altogether, though it
was warm work at first. If you like ships, I should be glad to show
you the Montauk's cabins when we get back; and if you ever think of
Europe, let me recommend the London line as none of the worst. We'll
try to make you comfortable, and trust to me to choose a state-room,
a thing I am experienced in."

Not one of the wags laughed until they were fairly confronted with
the oysters. Then, indeed, they burst out into a general and long fit
of exuberant merriment, returning to it, between the courses from the
kitchen, like the _refrain_ of a song. Captain Truck, who was
uncommonly well satisfied with himself, did not understand the
meaning of all this boyishness, but he has often declared since, that
a heartier or a funnier set of fellows he never fell in with, than
his four companions proved to be that night.

As for the literary _soirée_, the most profound silence has been
maintained concerning it, neither of the wits there assembled having
seen fit to celebrate it in rhyme, and Florio having actually torn up
an impromptu for the occasion, that he had been all the previous day
writing.

Chapter VII.

  "There is a history in all men's lives, Figuring the nature of the
  times deceased, The which observed, a man may prophesy With a near
  aim, of the main chance of things, As yet not come to life."

  KING HENRY VI

The following morning the baronet breakfasted in Hudson Square. While
at table, little was said concerning the events of the past night,
though sundry smiles were exchanged, as eye met eye, and the
recollection of the mystification returned. Grace alone looked grave,
for she had been accustomed to consider Mrs. Legend a very
discriminating person, and she had even hoped that most of those who
usually figured in her rooms, were really the clever persons they
laid claim to be.

The morning was devoted to looking at the quarter of the town which
is devoted to business, a party having been made for that express
purpose under the auspices of John Effingham. As the weather was very
cold, although the distances were not great, the carriages were
ordered, and they all set off about noon.

Grace had given up expecting a look of admiration from Eve in behalf
of any of the lions of New-York, her cousin having found it necessary
to tell her, that, in a comparative sense at least, little was to be
said in behalf of these provincial wonders. Even Mademoiselle
Viefville, now that the freshness, of her feelings were abated, had
dropped quietly down into a natural way of speaking of these things;
and Grace, who was quick-witted, soon discovered that when she did
make any allusions to similar objects in Europe, it was always to
those that existed in some country town. A silent convention existed,
therefore, to speak no more on such subjects; or if any thing was
said, it arose incidentally and as inseparable from the regular
thread of the discourse.

When in Wall street, the carriages stopped and the gentlemen
alighted. The severity of the weather kept the ladies in the chariot,
where Grace endeavoured to explain things as well as she co

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