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Elinor Wyllys; Or, The Young Folk of Longbridge: A Tale. Volume 1

by Susan Fenimore Cooper · English · Gutenberg #1927 · 482,415 chars · public domain (US)

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Title: Elinor Wyllys; Or, The Young Folk of Longbridge: A Tale. Volume 1

Author: Susan Fenimore Cooper

Editor: James Fenimore Cooper


        
Release date: October 1, 1999 [eBook #1927]
                Most recently updated: April 3, 2015

Language: English

Other information and formats: www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/1927


*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ELINOR WYLLYS; OR, THE YOUNG FOLK OF LONGBRIDGE: A TALE. VOLUME 1 ***
Ver.04.29.93*END*




{This e-text was prepared from the first edition of Susan
Fenimore Cooper's "Elinor Wyllys: or, The Young Folk of
Longbridge" (Philadelphia: Carey and Hart, 1846). "Elinor Wyllys"
was also published in England (London: Richard Bentley, 1845),
but has otherwise not been reprinted.

{Text and note are by Hugh C. MacDougall (jfcooper@wpe.com).
Notes are enclosed in curly brackets { }; these include
identification of epigraphs and other quotations and allusions,
explanations of obsolete word usage, and translations of foreign
words and expressions. Quotations from Shakespeare are cited to
the Riverside Edition (adopted as standard for the MLA-approved
Cooper Edition of the works of James Fenimore Cooper). Spelling
and punctuation, including the author's idiosyncratic use of
colons and semi-colons, inconsistent use of single quotation
marks for "thoughts," and combinations of dashes with other
punctuation, have not been changed (except for occasional silent
insertion of missing quotation marks). First instances of some
unusual spellings (whether or not in accordance with the author's
usual practise), and obvious typographical errors, are followed
by {sic} to indicate that there has not been a mistake in
transcription. Because of the limitations of the .TXT format,
italicized foreign words (mostly French) are transcribed in
ordinary type, and accents are omitted; words italicized for
emphasis, or to emulate dialect or incorrect pronunciation, are
transcribed as capitals.}





ELINOR WYLLYS: OR, THE YOUNG FOLK OF LONGBRIDGE. A TALE.

BY AMABEL PENFEATHER.

{Pseudonym of Susan Fenimore Cooper (1813-1894),
daughter of James Fenimore Cooper (1789-1851)}




"Familiar matter of today;
Some natural sorrow, loss or pain,
That has been, and may be again."
WORDSWORTH

{William Wordsworth (English poet, 1770-1850), "The Solitary
Reaper" lines 22-24}




IN TWO VOLUMES,
VOL. I.

EDITED BY J. FENIMORE COOPER




EDITOR'S PREFACE.

THERE is so much of mystification resorted to, at the present
time, in the publication of books, that it has become proper that
the editor of Elinor Wyllys should explain what has been his own
connection with this particular work.

The writer of this book is a valued female friend, who had a
right to ask, and did ask, its editor's advice and assistance, in
presenting it to the public. This advice and assistance have been
cheerfully afforded, though neither has properly extended to the
literary character of the work. As the author has not wished to
appear, the name of the editor has been used in obtaining the
copy-right, and his assistance given in forwarding and returning
proof-sheets. Over a few of the last, the editor has cast an eye;
but, believing the author of the book to be fully competent
herself, to superintend her own work, as it has gone through the
press, this supervision on the part of the editor has been very
slight.

The editor has great confidence in the principles, taste, and
intelligence of the real author of Elinor Wyllys. She has seen
much of that portion of the world with which a lady becomes
acquainted, and has seen that much under the most favorable
circumstances. As usually happens in such cases, her book will be
found free from exaggerations of every sort; and will be more
likely to be well received by persons of her own class, than by
those who are less familiar with its advantages. Imagination,
feeling, sound principles, and good taste, are all to be found in
this book, though in what degree, the public will necessarily
decide for itself.

J. FENIMORE COOPER.

Philadelphia, Oct. 8, 1845.



PREFACE

IT will be well, perhaps, that the reader bear in mind, while
running over the following pages, that many passing observations,
many trifles, which naturally find their way into any sketch of
social life, refer chiefly to things and notions in favour some
ten years since; a period which is certainly not beyond the
memory of man, but very possibly beyond the clear recollection of
some young lady reader, just within her teens. New opinions, new
ideas, new fashions have appeared among us since then, and made
their way perceptibly. Twenty years' possession constitutes a
legal title, if we may believe the lawyers; but a single season
is often sufficient for a new fancy--fancies of a serious nature
too, sometimes--to take full possession of the public mind, and
assume arbitrary control of the premises for the time being, at
least.

It will be more honest to confess, at once, before the reader
undertakes the first chapter, that the tale now before him is a
first appearance in print--a first appearance, too, of one who,
even now that the formidable step is taken, feels little disposed
to envy the honours of authorship. Writing may be a very pleasant
pastime; but printing seems to have many disagreeable
consequences attending every stage of the process; and yet, after
all, reading is often the most irksome task of the three. In this
last case, however, the remedy is generally easy; one may throw
aside the volume, and abuse the author. If there are books which
MUST be read, stupid or not, owing to the claim of some great
name on the binding, the present story is not one of the number;
and perhaps the perfect liberty enjoyed by the reader under such
circumstances--to like or dislike independent of critics, to cut
every leaf, or skip a dozen chapters at a time without fear of
reproach--will incline him to an amiable mood. It is to be hoped
so; it will be unfortunate if, among many agreeable summer
excursions both on terra firma and in the regions of fancy, the
hour passed at Longbridge should prove a tedious one: in such a
case the fault will belong entirely to the writer of the
narrative, for there are certainly some very pleasant and very
worthy people among the good folk of Longbridge.

---------, August, 1845.



ELINOR WYLLYS.

CHAPTER I,

"Enter the house, pr'ythee."--
ROGERS.

{Samuel Rogers (English poet, 1763-1855), "Italy: Genevra" line
19. Samuel Rogers befriended James Fenimore Cooper and his family
during their visits to England in 1826-33}

HAD there been a predecessor of Mr. Downing in the country, some
five-and-twenty year since, to criticise Wyllys-Roof, the home of
our friend Elinor, his good taste would no doubt have suggested
many improvements, not only in the house itself, but also in the
grounds which surrounded it. The building had been erected long
before the first Tudor cottage was transported, Loretto-like,
across the Atlantic, and was even anterior to the days of Grecian
porticoes. It was a comfortable, sensible-looking place, however,
such as were planned some eighty or a hundred years since, by men
who had fortune enough to do as they pleased, and education
enough to be quite superior to all pretension. The house was a
low, irregular, wooden building, of ample size for the tastes and
habits of its inmates, with broad piazzas, which not only
increased its dimensions, but added greatly to the comfort and
pleasure of the family by whom it was occupied.

{"Downing" = Andrew Jackson Downing (1815-1852), noted American
rural architect and landscape gardener; "Loretto-like" = after
Loreto, in Italy, where, according to tradition, a brick Holy
House was miraculously conveyed through the air by angels in
1294}

The grounds were of the simplest kind. The lawn which surrounded
the house was merely a better sort of meadow, from which the
stones and briars had been removed with more care than usual, and
which, on account of its position, received the attention of one
additional mowing in the course of the summer. A fine wood, of a
natural growth, approached quite near to the house on the
northern side, partially sheltering it in that direction, while
an avenue of weeping elms led from the gate to the principal
entrance, and a row of locusts, planted at equal distances, lined
the low, rude stone wall which shut out the highway. One piazza
was shaded by noble willows, while another was faced by a row of
cherry trees, flanked by peach and pear. Fruit trees, although so
common and so lavish of their blessings in this climate, are
often gathered about American country-houses, instead of being
confined to gardens devoted to the purpose, as in Europe; a habit
which pleasantly reminds us that civilization has made a recent
conquest over the wilderness in this new world, and that our
forefathers, only a few generations back, preferred the trees of
the orchard to those of the forest, even for ornament. Fruit
trees are indeed beautiful objects when gay with the blossoms of
spring, or rich with the offerings of summer, and, mingled with
others, are always desirable about a dwelling as simple and
unpretending in its character as Wyllys-Roof. Beneath the windows
were roses and other flowering shrubs; and these, with a few
scattered natives of the soil--elm, hickory, sycamore, and tulip
trees--farther from the house, were the only attempts at
embellishment that had been made. The garden, surrounded by a
white paling, was thought an ornamental object, and lay within
full view of the drawing-room windows; and yet it was but a
mixture of the useful and the beautiful, in which the former
largely predominated. As a kitchen-garden it was certainly
excellent; but the narrow flower-borders, which surrounded the
ample beds of melons and strawberries, asparagus and
cauliflowers, would have appeared meanly furnished in the eyes of
a flower-fancier of the present day. There was not a hybrid among
them, nor a single blossom but what bore a plain, honest name;
and although there were lilies and roses, pinks and violets in
abundance, they would probably have been all rooted out by your
exclusive, fashionable gardener of the last summer, for they were
the commonest varieties only. There were but two walks on the
lawn; one of these was gravelled, and led to the garden-gate; the
other was a common foot-path leading to the river, where the
gentlemen of the family kept their boats, and where the cattle,
who often grazed on the lawn, went to drink. The grounds were
bounded on one side by a broad river, on the other by a
sufficiently well-travelled highway. What particular river and
highway these were, through what particular state and county they
ran, we do not think it incumbent on us to reveal. It may easily
be inferred, however, that Wyllys-Roof belonged to one of the
older parts of the country, at no great distance from the
seaboard, for the trees that shaded the house were of a growth
that could not have been reached by any new plantation in a
western settlement.

{"particular state..." = Longbridge, we learn, has steamboat
connections to New York City, while steamboat connections to
Philadelphia are from nearby Upper Lewiston; in the course of the
story, one of the first railroads in America comes through town;
this suggests, if anywhere, New Jersey. Judicial matters take
place in Philadelphia, which would seem to place Longbridge in
Pennsylvania. It is not clear, however, that the author had any
specific location in mind}

The interior arrangements of Wyllys-Roof corresponded very
naturally with the appearance of things outside. The ceilings
were low, and the apartments small and numerous; much room had
been thrown into broad, airy passages, while closets and
cupboards abounded. The whole of the lower floor had originally
been wainscoted, but Miss Agnes Wyllys was answerable for several
innovations in the principal rooms. When Mr. Wyllys decided to
make his country-place a permanent residence, his daughter, who
was at the head of his establishment, fancied that the furniture
they had brought from their house in town could not be
advantageously disposed of, without cutting folding-doors between
the drawing-rooms. It was fortunate that a couple of adjoining
rooms admitted of this arrangement, for at that day, two
drawing-rooms of equal size, united by wide folding-doors, were
considered a necessary of life to all American families "on
hospitable thought intent." It seems to have been only very
recently that any other arrangement has been found possible, an
important discovery, which, like many others that have preceded
it, was probably the happy effect of necessity, that mother of
invention. Mr. Wyllys having cut through the partition, was next
persuaded to take down the wainscoting, and put up in its place a
French paper, very pretty in its way, certainly, but we fear that
Miss Agnes had no better reason to give for these changes than
the fact that she was doing as her neighbours had done before
her. Miss Wyllys was, however, little influenced in general by
mere fashion, and on more important matters could think for
herself; this little weakness in favour of the folding-doors may
therefore be forgiven, and justly ascribed to the character of
the age in which she lived and gave tea-parties.

{"on hospitable thought intent" = John Milton (English poet,
1608-1674), "Paradise Lost", Book V, line 332}

For several years after they removed permanently to Wyllys-Roof,
the family, strictly speaking, consisted of Mr. Wyllys, his
unmarried daughter, and the usual domestics, only. They were
seldom alone, however; they had generally some friend or relative
with them, and in summer the house was often filled to
overflowing, during the whole season, with parties of friends, or
the different branches of a large family connection; for the
Wyllyses had their full share of that free spirit of hospitality
which seems characteristic of all classes of Americans. After a
time, however, another member was received into the family. This
was the orphan daughter of Mr. Wyllys's eldest son, an engaging
little girl, to whom her grandfather and aunt were called upon to
fill the place of the father and mother she had lost. The little
orphan was too young, at the time, to be aware, either of the
great affliction which had befallen her, or of her happy lot in
being committed to such kind guardians, in merely exchanging one
home for another.

The arrival of the little Elinor at Wyllys-Roof was the only
important event in the family for some ten or twelve years; the
Wyllyses were not much given to change, and during that period
things about them remained much as they have just been described.
We defer presenting the family more especially to the reader's
notice until our young friend Elinor had reached her seventeenth
birth-day, an event which was duly celebrated. There was to be a
little party on the occasion, Miss Agnes having invited some
half-dozen families of the neighbourhood to pass the evening at
Wyllys-Roof.

The weather was very warm, as usual at the last of August; and as
the expected guests were late in making their appearance, Mr.
Wyllys had undertaken in the mean time to beat his daughter at a
game of chess. Elinor, mounted on a footstool, was intent on
arranging a sprig of clematis to the best advantage, in the
beautiful dark hair of her cousin Jane Graham, who was standing
for that purpose before a mirror. A good-looking youth, whom we
introduce without farther ceremony as Harry Hazlehurst, was
watching the chess-players with some interest. There were also
two ladies sitting on a sofa, and as both happened at the time to
be inmates of Wyllys-Roof, we may as well mention that the
elderly gentlewoman in a cap was Mrs. Stanley, the widow of a
connection from whom young Hazlehurst had inherited a large
property. Her neighbour, a very pretty woman, neither young nor
old, was Mrs. George Wyllys, their host's daughter-in-law, and,
as her mourning-dress bespoke her, also a widow. This lady was
now on a visit to Wyllys-Roof with her young children, whom, as
she frequently observed, she wished to be as much as possible
under the influence of their father's family.

Mr. Wyllys's game was interrupted for a moment, just as he was
about to make a very good move; a servant came to let him know
that a drunken man had been found under a fence near the house.
The fellow, according to Thomas's story, could not be roused
enough to give a straight account of himself, nor could he be
made to move.

"Is it any one you know, Thomas?" asked Mr. Wyllys.

"No, sir, it's no one from hereabouts. I shouldn't wonder if he
was a sailor, by the looks of his trowsers and jacket. I guess it
is some loafer on his way to Longbridge."

What could be done with him? was the question. The ladies did not
seem to like the idea of having a drunken man, whom no one knew,
brought into the house at night.

"I dare say it is the same person I heard asking the way to
Wyllys-Roof this morning, when we stopped at the turnpike-gate,"
observed Mrs. Stanley. "He looked at the time as if he had been
drinking."

Elinor suggested that possibly it might be some old sailor, who
fancied he had a claim upon Mr. Wyllys's kindness--Mr. George
Wyllys having died a commander in the navy.

Harry volunteered to go out and take a look at him, and the party
in the drawing-room awaited the result of this reconnoitring
{sic}. At the end of five minutes Hazlehurst returned with his
report.

"As far as I can judge by the help of moonlight and a lantern, it
is no very prepossessing personage. He swore at me roundly for
disturbing him, and I take it the fellow is really a sailor. I
asked him what he wanted at Wyllys-Roof, but we could not make
anything out of him. To keep him from mischief, we locked him up
in one of the out-houses. It is to be hoped in the morning he
will be sober enough to tell his errand."

The matter thus settled, nothing farther was thought of it at the
time, and in another moment the game of chess was won, and the
flower secured in a becoming position. Mrs. Stanley had been
watching Elinor's movements with a smile.

"You are an expert hair-dresser; the flowers are much prettier as
you have arranged them," said the lady to her young friend.

"Is it not a great improvement? They looked heavy as Jane had
arranged them before--I have taken out more than half," replied
Elinor.

Mrs. George Wyllys looked up from the newspaper she was reading,
and suggested a change.

"I think the clematis would look better on the other side."

"Do you really think so, Aunt Harriet? I flattered myself I had
been very successful: it strikes me that it looks very well."

"What is it that looks so well, ladies?" said Mr. Wyllys, rising
from the chess-table and drawing near the young people. "The
flower? Yes, the flower and the face are both very pretty, my
dear. What is it? a honeysuckle?"

"No indeed, grandpapa," answered Elinor, "it is a clematis--this
is a honeysuckle, a monthly honeysuckle, which Jane had twisted
with it; but to my fancy the clematis is prettier alone,
especially as it is so precious--the very last one we could
find."

"Why don't you put the honeysuckle in your own hair, Nelly? it is
a very pretty flower. Being queen of the evening, you should
certainly wear one yourself."

"Oh, I never wear flowers, grandpapa; I cannot make them look
well in my hair. This bouquet must proclaim my dignity to-night."

"It is pretty enough, certainly, my child, for any dignity--"

"Is it not rather large?" said Harry. "Why, Elinor, you have
smothered my humble offering in a whole wilderness of sweets!"

"Not quite as bad as that," said Elinor, smiling--"I only put
with yours, a few Aunt Agnes and Miss Patsey gave me--look at
Jane's if you wish to see a bouquet of a reasonably fashionable
size."

"Bouquets are worn very large this summer," said Jane Graham, in
a languid tone, resting her beautiful eyes on the bunch in her
hand.

"Fashion even in flowers!" exclaimed Mr. Wyllys.

"So it would seem," replied Elinor, smiling.

"And, pray," said Harry, taking a rose from a vase near him, "if
a friend were to offer a flower for your belt, since you will not
place one in your hair, would fashion permit it to be worn?"

"I don't believe it would, Nelly," said her grandfather.

Elinor looked just a little embarrassed, and a little pleased.

"Thank you," she said, taking the rose Harry offered; and while
securing it in her sash, she felt that she coloured. But the
flush was scarcely observed on a cheek as dark as hers.

"Well, Agnes, it is high time your friends came, unless they
expect a rout," said Mr. Wyllys, stepping towards a window to
look out. "Who are we to have?"

{"rout" = a large evening party}

"Your new neighbours, sir, the Taylors; your old friends, the
Hubbards, Van Hornes, Bernards--"

"I hope you will like the Taylors, Agnes; but I don't know much
about them. I am glad you thought of asking them this evening,
for he brought me a letter, you remember, from New York."

{"letter" = a letter of introduction}

"As there is a young lady in the family, and a son just grown up,
I thought they might like to dance," replied Miss Agnes. She then
turned to Mrs. Stanley, and asked that lady, who lived in New
York, if she knew anything of these new neighbours of theirs.

"I never heard of them," replied Mrs. Stanley. "But they may be
very important people, and make a great deal of noise, for all
that; as I only see my old friends, and live so quietly myself, I
don't even know the names of half the people who pass for
fashionable."

"I never suspected our new neighbours of being fashionable,"
replied Mr. Wyllys; "but I hope they will turn out pleasant,
sensible people, for your sake, ladies; and, then, if Taylor is a
chess-player, that will leave nothing farther to be desired."

"Here comes somebody, at last!" exclaimed Mrs. George Wyllys,
hearing a carriage. "The Van Hornes, I suppose."

"I beg your pardon," said Hazlehurst, who was standing near the
window, "that is the Taylor equipage; why the 'tastiness' of the
Taylor barouche is visible even by moonlight."

{"barouche" = four-wheeled carriage with room for four passengers
inside}

The party in the carriage, consisting of father and mother, son
and daughter, soon alighted, and appeared in the drawing-room.
They were introduced by Mr. Wyllys, and received politely by his
daughter and her niece.

"I am gratified, sir," said the tall and thin Mr. Taylor, with a
pompous tone, "in having so early an opportunity of making our
ladies mutually acquainted."

"We shall hope to see your family often, Mr. Taylor," replied his
host. "You must not forget that we are near neighbours; and we
country folk think a great deal of neighbourhood, I assure you."

"Yes; of course the restraints of society must be much greater in
a city, than in a more sparsely settled section."

"I hope your new purchase suits you on farther examination. The
farm is certainly a very good one; but the house, I should think,
must want repairs."

"It does, sir; I calculate to build, however, next year. The
present dwelling is much too small."

"The house might suit us, I think," observed Mrs. Taylor, who,
with Miss Agnes, had taken a seat, while the young people were
standing, chatting, near them. "If husband would put up a
back-building, we should have room enough."

Miss Wyllys remarked, that even a small addition, often increased
very much the convenience of a house.

"Certainly, madam; but I apprehend, if I had added wings and a
back-building to the premises, as I first intended, Mrs. Taylor
would still have found the house not sufficiently spacious. Now
our young ladies and gentlemen are growing up, we must have, more
room for company."

"Well," added his wife, "I expect to see a good deal of tea and
dinner company, next summer, with the house as it is."

"The young people will be much obliged to you for your kind
intentions, Mrs. Taylor; ours is not a very gay neighbourhood,"
said Miss Wyllys.

"So I should conclude," remarked Mr. Taylor.

"I don't know, Agnes," said her father; "if you include
Longbridge in the neighbourhood, I think we may call ourselves a
gay set."

"True, sir," said Miss Agnes; "but as we seldom go there
ourselves in the evening, it had not struck me in that light. But
very possibly, Mrs. Taylor and her young ladies may be more
enterprising than Elinor and myself."

"Four miles, madam," interposed Mr. Taylor, "with a good vehicle
and good horses, is no great distance. Longbridge seems to be in
a very flourishing condition, sir;" turning to Mr. Wyllys.

"Yes, the place is looking up; they are very busy just now. They
are building a good deal, this summer."

"I observed several tasty mansions, in what may be called the
suburbs; in particular a brick edifice, being erected, I
understand, by Joseph P. Hubbard."

"The brick house near the bridge? Yes, it will be the largest
about here. Hubbard is building it more to please his daughters
than himself, I fancy."

"It promises a great display of taste--I observe he has reserved
half his lot, in front of the mansion, for a park."

"Hem--Yes, there will be just half an acre in it. Does Hubbard
call it a park?" asked Mr. Wyllys, with an amused expression
about his eyes.

"I applied the term myself," replied the knowing Mr. Taylor. "I
was altogether much pleased with the appearance of your village,
sir. It has a lively business for such a small place--things
really look quite citified there. If I had seen Mr. Hubbard's
mansion, before concluding my bargain for my present location, I
think I should have made him an offer."

"I am very glad you did not, husband. I was brought up on a farm,
Miss Wyllys, and I am very happy that we have got in the open
country. Besides, Mr. Hubbard's house will be too large for
comfort."

"Ha, ha!" faintly laughed Mr. Taylor; "you seem to like room out
of doors better than within, Mrs. Taylor."

At this moment two persons walked quietly into the room, and were
received very kindly by Miss Wyllys and Elinor. One was a woman
of about forty, plainly, but neatly dressed, with a pleasing
face, remarkable for a simple expression of common sense and
goodness. Her manners corresponded perfectly with her appearance;
they were quiet and pleasant. The lad who accompanied her was a
boy of sixteen, small, and slightly made, with good features, and
an uncommonly spirited and intelligent countenance. They might
very naturally have been taken for mother and son; but they were,
in fact, brother and sister.

"Well, Charlie, my lad," said Mr. Wyllys, placing a hand on the
boy's shoulder, "I hear the important matter is at last under
full consideration."

"Yes, sir; my friends have all but consented; even sister Patsey
is coming round. It will be all settled next week, I hope."

"I wish you joy of your success, Charlie," cried Hazlehurst.

"Not yet, if you please, Mr. Hazlehurst," said Miss Patsey
Hubbard, smiling good-naturedly. "It is only a conditional
consent, Charles, you must remember." Then turning to Mr. Wyllys,
she added--"All our friends seem to agree with you, sir, and Miss
Wyllys: my uncles think Charles ought to show what he has done to
some experienced painters, and have their opinions. We feel very
anxious on the subject."

"Remember to persevere, young man, if you once begin," said Mr.
Wyllys.

"No danger but I shall, sir," said the boy rather proudly.

"I fear, Charles, that half the fault of your obstinacy is thrown
upon my shoulders," said Elinor. "Those Lives of the Painters
were an unfortunate present; they seem quite to have turned your
head; I am afraid Miss Patsey will not soon forgive me."

{"Lives of the Painters" = probably Giorgio Vasari (Italian
writer, 1511-1574), "Lives of the Most Excellent Architects,
Painters and Sculptors" (1550, rev. 1568), a famous and often
reprinted series of biographies of Italian artists, also
frequently cited as "Lives of the Artists."}

"I can't thank you enough for them, Miss Elinor--you don't know
what pleasure I have had with them."



CHAPTER II.

"We'll measure them a measure, and begone."

{William Shakespeare, "Romeo and Juliet", I.iv.10}

The arrival of guests again called the ladies away; they were
followed by others, until the drawing-room was half-filled with
the young people of the neighbourhood, and their parents. Mrs.
Stanley was soon talking with Patsey Hubbard, whom she liked
particularly. The tall and thin Mrs. Bernard, and her friend, the
short and fat Mrs. Van Horne, were regretting with Mrs. George
Wyllys, that she should think the air of Longbridge did not agree
with her children; and lamenting that she should not remain at
Wyllys-Roof until November, according to her first intention.
Charlie was deep in a volume of fine engravings. Young Taylor was
standing; in a corner, looking handsome, but awkward, and out of
place. Mr. Taylor, the father, was aiming at making himself
'affable' to everybody he knew; he liked to be called the
'affable' Mr. Taylor. The last of the party to arrive, were Mr.
and Mrs. Clapp; a couple, who were by no means equally liked by
their hosts. The husband was a Longbridge lawyer, whose views and
manners were not much admired at Wyllys-Roof; and he would
probably never have found his way there, had he not married one
of their old friends and favourites, Kate Hubbard, a younger
sister of Miss Patsey's--one who from childhood had always been
welcome among them. William Cassius Clapp had curly hair, bright
black eyes, and pink cheeks--and, consequently, was generally
thought an Adonis: his wife was a diminutive little creature,
quite pretty, and very amiable; a sort of mixture of Miss Patsey
and Charlie, without the more striking qualities of either. Some
of her friends had thought her thrown away upon Clapp; but she
seemed perfectly satisfied after five years' experience, and
evidently believed her husband superior in every way to the
common run of men. Holding it to be gross injustice towards the
individuals whom we bring before the reader, to excite a
prejudice against them in the very first chapter, we shall leave
all the party to speak and act for themselves; merely
endeavouring to fill the part of a 'faithful chronicler,'
ourselves.

Mr. Taylor had been looking, with a mixed expression of surprise
and curiosity, at the person he had heard addressed as Miss
Patsey Hubbard, when the lady remarked his manner, and, smiling
quietly, she bowed to him. The bow was returned; and Mr. Taylor
crossed the room, to renew an acquaintance with the woman, who,
three-and-twenty years before, had refused to become his wife.
Mr. Pompey Taylor had, however, risen too much in the world,
since then--according to his own estimation, at least--he had
become too rich and too prosperous, not to look back with great
equanimity, on what he now considered as a very trifling
occurrence. While he was addressing Miss Patsey in his most
polished manner, just marked with an extra-touch of 'affability,'
for her especial benefit, he could not but wonder that her
countenance should still wear the same placid, contented air as
of old; it seemed, indeed, as if this expression had only been
confirmed by time and trials. He began to think the accounts he
had occasionally heard, of his old flame, must have been
incorrect; it was scarcely possible she should look so calm, and
even cheerful, if her father, the Presbyterian minister, had
actually left her not only penniless, but burdened with the
support of a bed-ridden step-mother, and a house full of younger
brothers and sisters. We leave him to satisfy his curiosity as
well as he could.

When was there ever an evening too warm for young people to
dance! Elinor's friends had not been in the room half an hour,
before they discovered that they were just the right number to
make a quadrille agreeable. They were enough to form a double
set; and, while they were dancing, the elder part of the company
were sitting in groups near the windows, to catch the evening
air, and talking over neighbourly matters, or looking on at their
young friends.

"Don't you think Elinor very graceful?" exclaimed Mrs. Van Horne
to her friend, Mrs. Bernard. "I like to watch her, while she is
dancing; her movements are all so pleasing and easy, never, in
the least, exaggerated--but, it is in her very nature; she has
always been the same, from a little creature."

"Yes," replied Mrs. Bernard; "but it is a pity her face should be
so ugly; for she has rather a pretty figure--"

"Do you think her really ugly? She does not strike me, as so very
plain--there is nothing repulsive in her face. I have known girls
called pretty, who had something far nearer coarseness in their
features. It is true, I have been accustomed to see her from the
time she was four years old; and, I know, she is always thought
very plain by strangers."

"Why, my dear Mrs. Van Horne, she has not one feature that can be
called good; and her eye-brows are so heavy, and her complexion
is so thick and dark, too!"

"Yes, it is true, she is very dark; and that is a pity; if she
were only fairer, her features would appear to greater
advantage."

"Just look at her now," said Mrs. Bernard, "as she is standing by
her cousin, Jane Graham, who is dancing with your son. Was there
ever a greater contrast?"

"But Jane is so remarkably pretty--"

"Certainly, she is a perfect little beauty; and that is one
reason, perhaps, why Elinor strikes us as so plain; she is so
much with her cousin--"

"Well," said Mrs. Van Horne, "if you are going to quarrel so
much, with my little friend's face, we had better find something
else to talk about; for she is a very great favourite of mine."

"And justly--I dare say.--But, I am a great admirer of beauty,
you know; and I cannot keep my eyes off Jane's lovely face."

The conversation then turned upon the Hubbards.

"Charlie, it seems, is actually going to be a painter," observed
Mrs. Bernard. "Miss Patsey tells me, he is so bent on it, that
she thinks there is no use in opposing it any longer; though, Mr.
Clapp says, it is a wretched plan."

"I hope Charles may succeed; he is a fine boy; and I shall be
very sorry, for Patsey's sake, if he turns out badly. She is very
anxious about him, I know."

"They have been so fortunate, with the rest of the family, that,
I hope, they will be able to keep Charlie straight. I see Miss
Patsey is talking to Mrs. Taylor; they are old friends, perhaps.
Do you know anything about these Taylors?"

"Nothing but what my husband told me. He is a merchant in New
York, and very rich;--made his money quite lately; and the
business-men think a good deal of him."

"He seems to have a great deal to say for himself. Have you
called on Mrs. Taylor?"

"We were there yesterday. She is a quiet, plain woman. The young
man is good-looking, but very shy and awkward. The daughter seems
very lively."

"Yes, and she is quite pretty, too. She will be a belle, I dare
say."

"I hope Mrs. Taylor will send her younger children to Patsey's
school."

"I wish she may; it will be a good thing for Miss Patsey, and
make up her dozen. You know, she will not take more than twelve,
as she keeps the largest room in the house for her mother."

"How kind and faithful Patsey has been to her step-mother! Just
as she is, though, to everybody else; and she does it all in such
a quiet, consistent way. I am glad to see her here to-night--she
enjoys a little society, once in a while; and yet no one can
persuade her to go out, except Miss Wyllys."

"She has come in honour of her pupil's birthday, I suppose. You
know, Elinor Wyllys was her first scholar. By-the-bye, do you
know what I heard, the other day? They say, in Longbridge, that
Mr. Hazlehurst is engaged to one of the young ladies here;
though, to which, my informant did not say."

"There is no truth in it, you may be sure--they are too much like
brother and sister, to think of it. Besides, Mr. Hazlehurst is
going abroad, shortly."

"I did not know that. Where is he going?"

"He told my son, yesterday, that he was going to Europe, for two
years, to take care of his brother, Mr. Robert Hazlehurst, who
has never recovered from the fall he had last winter; and the
physicians have ordered him to travel."

At that moment the ladies were joined by Miss Agnes.

"I hear, Miss Wyllys," said Mrs. Bernard, "that Mr. Hazlehurst is
going to Europe. He will be very much missed, at Longbridge."

"Yes, we shall miss him, here, very much," replied Miss Wyllys;
"Harry has been with us more than ever, this summer. But, his
brother is not in a state to travel alone, nor fit to take care
of his wife and children, who go with him; and, although the plan
is a sudden one, and interferes with Harry's law-studies, yet his
friends all think a visit to Europe may be a great advantage to
him."

The ladies agreed that it was a very good arrangement, and some
inquiries were made as to Mr. Robert Hazlehurst's health; and a
discussion of bruises and falls, nerves and dyspepsia, followed.

Soon after, the quadrille broke up.

"Well, Miss Jane," cried Mrs. Bernard, as several young people
drew near, "I hear that your sister, Mrs. Robert Hazlehurst, is
going to Europe; if I were you, I would not be left behind."

"I should like to go very well," said the beauty, in a languid
tone; "but, I shall be at school, in New York, next winter."

"Oh, that is a pity! I am sure, you could learn all you want to
know, much better, in Paris. Don't you think she ought to go, Mr.
Hazlehurst?"

"Certainly, ma'am; everybody should go to Paris, if they have a
chance."

"Miss Jane would be such a charming addition to your party.--Two
young people together, you would enjoy yourselves more, and make
it pleasanter for your friends."

Young Hazlehurst made a civil bow to the lady; but he looked as
if he had an opinion of his own on the subject, for comical
expression crossed his face at the moment. Jane had turned in
another direction, and was slowly lisping an answer to a very
animated question of Miss Adeline Taylor's.

"Yes; I was at Mrs. G-----'s school, last year; and, I am going
there again."

"Well, I positively think I must go there, too, for my last
winter. Mrs. G-----'s school is all the fashion, now. All the
young ladies she turns out, are very lively. Miss Hubbard, the
great belle, was there, you know, before she came out. Don't you
think it would be an excellent plan, Mr. Hazlehurst, for your
cousin and me to be chums? I declare, I wish you were going, too,
Miss Wyllys."

"Thank you. I have never been to school, in my life; and it is
rather late, to begin now."

"Never been to school! What dull times you must have had at home!
You don't know what fine fun we have, at school; it is next to
going into company. I wouldn't stay at home, for the world. Why
didn't you go?"

"Well, I really don't know why. Perhaps, I should have wished to
go, if I had thought it as pleasant as you seem to do, Miss
Taylor."

"And pray, if I may ask, what made it so very pleasant?" asked
Harry Hazlehurst. "I should like to be initiated into the
delights of a young ladies' boarding-school. Of course, they must
be very different from the rude enjoyments of collegians."

"Oh! it would take me a year, to tell you all about it."

"I shall be most happy to listen all the evening. But, let me
find you a chair, before you commence; you must be tired of
standing," said Harry, with a view to taking a seat himself.

"Me? Oh, no; I never sit down, at a party; I always stand. You
lose half the fun, by sitting down." And, having secured Harry's
attention, the half-fledged belle turned to another youth, within
hailing distance. "Now, what do you think Mr. Hazlehurst has
given me to do, for the next hour, Mr. Van Horne?"

"I am sure, I don't know. Is it something very difficult?
Listening to his pretty speeches, perhaps," said the other.

"Oh dear, no! I don't believe Mr. Hazlehurst can make a tender
speech; I don't believe he has got any heart," said Miss Adeline,
looking an attempt at archness.

"And, pray, what makes you think so, Miss Taylor? Do you judge
from my savage expression?"

"Well, perhaps, you have one;" said the young lady, looking up
bewitchingly. "I suspect, though, you take very good care of it,"

"But this is not fair; you are abusing me, instead of giving us
the delights of your school, as you promised."

"Oh, I had forgotten that. But, I should think, you might guess
what fun we have--a set of wild girls together."

"How should I know anything about it? Pray, be more explicit."

"Well, in the first place, we make a point of getting up an
excitement, at least once a week."

"Like our unruly spirits at college, you break the windows, and
roll cannon-balls, I suppose."

"How you talk! No, indeed. Our last excitement was about the coat
of our Professor of Mathematics. It was such a quizzical cut, we
told Mrs. A., it was morally impossible for us to attend to the
lesson, and study the problems, as long as the man wore it."

"It was unpardonable, in a professor of mathematics, to wear a
coat that was not cut according to rule."

"Now wasn't it? Well, you may be sure, we can always pitch upon
something for an excitement, whenever we're in the humour for it.
And then, we have secrets to tell about our beaux--and we quiz
the new scholars--and we eat candy--and we torment Mrs. A-----;
but, I shan't tell you any more, now; for I must go out on the
piazza, and have a walk--it looks so sweet, out there. You shall
have the rest of the story, if you'll come."

And away tripped the young lady, followed, of course, by the
gentlemen.

Mr. Taylor, who had been moving about the room, making himself
popular by a very bland smile, and, what he considered very
courtly manners, still had time to keep one eye upon his son, who
after an awkward fashion, seemed devoting himself to one or two
of the ladies, and the other, upon his daughter. "Adeline will
make herself conspicuous," thought the gratified father.

"Liny seems to enjoy herself," was the observation of her mother,
who had been sitting quietly at her daughter's elbow, listening
to the conversation just related.

"Two conquests!" thought the young lady herself.

"A lively girl!" was the opinion of young Van Horne.

"Fair game!" said Harry to himself.

While some of the young people were flirting, others dancing, Mr.
Taylor and Mr. Clapp, whose acquaintance had commenced on board a
steamboat that very morning, were walking together up and down
the hall, which they had pretty much to themselves. They touched
on business, which was pronounced very active; and on politics,
which were declared to be particularly dull, just then: Mr.
Clapp, indeed, thought the people much too quiet--shamefully
blind to their own interests, which always demanded what he
called a state of healthful excitement--meaning an unreasonable
excitement upon any subject whatever. There can be no doubt that
Mr. Clapp honestly believed such a state of agitation far more
conducive than quiet to his own interest; for he was quite a
fluent speaker, and very ambitious of a seat in the State
Assembly. He belonged to that school of republicanism, which so
completely identifies the individual with the mass, that it
cannot conceive of any independent opinions, tastes, or
principles; and, very possibly, he persuaded himself the good of
the nation, as well as his personal advantage, required a fresh
brand to be thrown upon the Longbridge council-fire. Having
exchanged opinions with Mr. Clapp upon politics and the market,
Mr. Taylor proceeded to make some observations and inquiries
about the company; he evidently felt some curiosity regarding his
new neighbours, while his companion seemed well disposed to give
him all the information he desired.

"Mr. Wyllys is a man of large property, I conclude," said the
merchant.

Mr. Clapp named the number of thousands usually given to their
host; the amount was much lower than Mr. Taylor had supposed. He
had already discovered that Mr. Wyllys was highly respected by
the Longbridge community in general, and he had taken it for
granted that he must be the richest man in the neighbourhood; but
he now found that this was far from being the case. Mr. Wyllys,
though in easy circumstances, could not command half as much
money as several business men about him.

"THERE is a good fortune for you," said Mr. Clapp; "the lady on
the sofa; her property does not lie here, though. The real estate
is mostly in Carolina and Philadelphia. Did you see the young
gentleman who has just gone out on the piazza with your
daughter--Mr. Hazlehurst? At the demise of the widow, it all goes
to him; but in the mean time he has only two thousand a year--it
will be full twenty, altogether, if well managed," said Mr.
Clapp, running his fingers through the black locks which his wife
thought so handsome.

{"fortune" = short for a woman of fortune; an heiress}

"Mrs. Stanley is the old lady's name, is it not? The young
gentleman is her grandson, I conclude."

"Not at all; only a nephew by marriage," replied the lawyer,
pulling up his collar. "He may feel much obliged to Mr. Stanley
for feathering his nest so well. But Hazlehurst is a very good
fellow; I always liked him from the time he was a little shaver."

"The testator had no children of his own to inherit, I suppose,"
remarked Mr. Taylor.

"No sir; the only child of the first wife died just before his
father--the lady in the other room had no family. Mr. Stanley had
not a single near relation in the world; he bequeathed fifty
thousand dollars to an Orphan Asylum, and left his widow a
life-estate in one-half the remainder; which, at her death, goes
in a lump, real estate and personals, to young Hazlehurst, who is
the son of an old friend, and a nephew by marriage."

{"personals" = personal property}

"Some four hundred thousand dollars, I think you said; that would
make a fine capital for a young man to open business with!"

"But show me the young man who, with four hundred thousand to
begin with, will not spend it instead of making more! No, sir;
give me a man with small means and a sharp wit for his stock in
trade, rather than a hundred thousand down; ten to one the first
winds up the better man by a good round sum. I should not wonder
at all to find myself a richer man than Harry Hazlehurst by the
time I am fifty."

"What splendid operations he might engage in, though!"

"If he wanted to, he could not touch the money now; it is all in
the widow's hands until he is five-and-twenty, excepting the
allowance of two thousand a year which she gives him, now he is
of age."

After a little more conversation of the same nature--in which the
Van Hornes and the Bernards came in for their share of the
appraisal, Mr. Clapp concluded by the offer of an introduction.

"Shall I introduce Mrs. Stanley to you? I am very well
acquainted. I was raised in the same part of the country she came
from. She is a very agreeable lady in conversation."

Mr. Taylor had not the least objection to make the acquaintance
of any human being enjoying an estate of four hundred thousand
dollars. He assented, and following Mr. Clapp into the
drawing-room, the introduction took place without farther
preface. Mrs. Stanley had been conversing with Miss Patsey and
Elinor; she was rather taken by surprise when Mr. Clapp,
advancing before her, said, with a flourish, "Mr. Taylor, Mrs.
Stanley." Both the gentlemen were received by her with as much
quiet coolness as was consistent with civility to her friend's
guests. She had lately been often annoyed by Mr. Clapp's
officious attentions, and was at a loss to account for them,
until she remembered he might be wishing to obtain a share in the
management of her affairs.

Having succeeded in bringing about the introduction, Mr. Clapp
turned to Elinor.

"I hear strange stories in Longbridge about you, Miss Wyllys,"
said Mr. Clapp.

There was as yet no individual in the little world known to
Elinor, more trying to her temper than the husband of her friend,
Kate Hubbard. There was a smirking impertinence in Mr. Clapp's
manner, of which it seemed impossible for him to divest himself,
for it was often most conspicuous when he wished to make himself
most agreeable; and no wonder this was the case, for it was a
quality natural to him. The simple feeling of genuine respect and
deference, so grateful to the heart where sincerely felt, was one
he had never had the happiness to know. On the present occasion
Elinor was not a little provoked with him, and something of the
feeling might have been traced in her expression. We have heard
of brilliant black eyes, that never appeared more beautiful than
when flashing with passion. Those of our friend Elinor were small
and grey; indignation, therefore, may not have been so becoming
to them.

"Scarcely worth remembering, I fancy," she replied; and then made
some observation about Mrs. Hubbard, to turn the conversation.
The raillery and pleasantry of a man with no more tact, or true
delicacy, than William Cassius Clapp, was more than even Elinor's
sweet temper could have borne.

Mr. Wyllys had taken a seat near Mrs. Taylor.

"We have not seen all your young people yet, I believe, Mrs.
Taylor."

"Oh, no, sir--I have six at home, besides the two here. Thomas
and Adeline are my eldest; the rest are hardly old enough to go
out; to parties--though Pompey is nearly fifteen."

"You must bring Mr. Pompey, too, next time. Your eldest son tells
me he has just left Yale."

"He graduated last month. I want him to stay at home now until
winter, and then go into business. But his father has taken a
nation of having him go to Europe for six months. Thomas does not
care so much about it; but husband has a great opinion of a
European journey--he talks some of going himself. Some young men
go a whaling to see the world; but Mr. Taylor thinks Thomas had
better have a chance to go to Paris."

"He will probably find Paris the pleasantest trip of the two,"
said Mr. Wyllys, smiling. "Young Hazlehurst is going abroad, too;
he sails next week, with his brother. What is the name of Harry's
packet, Nelly?" asked her grandfather, taking the young girl's
hand affectionately, as she passed.

Elinor named the vessel; and, from Mrs. Taylor's answer, it
appeared, the young men were to sail in the same ship.

"I am glad to hear that your grandson is going to France, sir; it
will be more sociable, for Thomas to have somebody he knows, in
Paris."

"They will probably meet there. Harry is not my grandson,
however."

"I beg your pardon; but, I understood, that the pretty young
lady, with the white flower in her hair, and the young gentleman
talking to my daughter Adeline, were your grandchildren."

"Oh, no; Miss Graham is my great-niece; and, as for Harry, if I
remember right, he is no relation at all; though, we call him
cousin. I have a house full of little grandchildren, here, just
now, from Baltimore; but they are too young to be out of the
nursery, at this hour. Does Miss Taylor sing?"

"No, sir; Adeline performs on the piano; but she has not any
voice for music; which, I am very sorry for, as I like to hear
young people sing."

"Perhaps, then, you would like to hear my grand-daughter; she
sings me a song every evening, after tea," said Mr. Wyllys, who,
indeed, seemed to think something was wanting to an evening, in
his own house, unless Elinor gave him a little music, of which he
was passionately fond; though, like most American gentlemen, of
his age, he had no knowledge of the art, and no other guide than
a good ear, and good natural taste. Elinor's voice was a full,
sweet contralto, which had been cultivated under the best masters
in Philadelphia; and, as she never attempted what she could not
perform with ease and grace, her music always gave pleasure. One
or two of the other ladies followed her, at the piano--Mary Van
Horne, and a friend who had come with her; but their performance
was very indifferent. It was rarely that one heard anything
approaching to really good amateur music, in this country,
fifteen years ago, at the date of Elinor's seventeenth birthday.

A light supper, and a Virginia reel, concluded the evening; when
the party broke up.

"I hope you are jealous, Elinor," said Harry Hazlehurst, as he
returned into the house, after having attended Miss Adeline
Taylor to the carriage.

"Jealous!--Of what, pray?"

"Of the heart and affections of your humble servant, to be
sure.--You must have observed the snare that Miss Taylor laid for
them."

"Nonsense.--Good night!" and Elinor accompanied her aunt and
cousin up stairs.



CHAPTER III.

"Her playmate from her youth."
ROGERS.

{Samuel Rogers (English poet, 1763-1855), "Italy: Genevra" line
55}

ELINOR had been in her room for some minutes, and was standing in
thought, before an open window, when she turned toward a little
table near her, and, opening a Bible, drew from it a letter. She
raised it to her lips, and, moving toward a light unfolded the
sheet. Tears soon blinded her sight; she was much agitated; then,
becoming calmer, she continued to read. It was a letter of some
length, and every line seemed deeply interesting to the reader.
Once she paused, as if struck by some new thought, and then,
again, she read with some anxiety. She had just finished the last
words, when her door opened, and Miss Agnes entered the room.

"Be calm, my dear child," said her aunt; "it is indeed a precious
letter, and one which we both value highly; your feelings are
only natural, dearest; but do not indulge them to excess." Miss
Wyllys, by her gentle, caressing manner, succeeded in calming
Elinor, when, urging her not to sit up later, she left her niece
for the night.

When Miss Agnes was gone, Elinor fell on her knees, with the
letter still in her hand. She remained some time, apparently in
prayer, and then rising calmly, she folded the sheet, and laid it
on the Bible; and, before her head touched her pillow, the letter
was again removed, and placed beneath it.

We have not the slightest wish to beguile the reader into
believing that Elinor had a mysterious lover, or a clandestine
correspondence; and we shall at once mention, that this letter
was one written years previously, by the mother she had lost; and
her good aunt, according to the direction, had placed it in her
niece's hands, on the morning of her seventeenth birthday.

When Mr. Wyllys went down to breakfast, the next morning, he
inquired if their drunken visiter {sic--the Cooper family's usual
spelling of the word}, of the previous night, had shown himself
again.

"I have just been out, sir, to look after him," said Harry, "and
the fellow does not seem to have liked his night's lodgings. He
broke jail, and was off before any of the men were up this
morning; they found the door open, and the staple off--he must
have kicked his way out; which could easily he done, as the lock
was old."

Elinor suggested that it was, perhaps, some one who was ashamed
of the situation in which he had been found.

"More probably he was too much accustomed to a lock-up house, to
find it pleasant. But if he really had any business here, we
shall hear of him again, no doubt," said Mr. Wyllys. The affair
thus disposed of, the conversation took another turn.

Mr. Wyllys, Elinor's grandfather, was decidedly a clever man. He
had held a high position, in his profession, until he withdrew
from it, and had, at one time, honourably distinguished himself
as a politician. He was well educated, and well read; his
library, at Wyllys-Roof, was, indeed, one of the best in the
country. Moreover, Mr. Wyllys was a philosopher, a member of the
Philosophical Society of Philadelphia; and the papers he read,
before that honourable association, were generally much admired
by his audience. It is even probable that Mr. Wyllys believed
himself endowed with a good stock of observation and experience
in human nature; but, in spite of all these advantages, we cannot
help thinking that, although well-versed in natural philosophy,
this excellent gentleman proved himself quite ignorant of boy and
girl nature. Even his daughter, Miss Agnes, feared her father had
been unwise and imprudent on an occasion which she considered of
great importance.

A great deal might be said in favour of Harry Hazlehurst. Few
young men, of his age, were more promising in character and
abilities. He was clever, and good-tempered; and, with all the
temptations of an easy fortune within his reach, he had always
shown himself firm in principles. There was one trait in his
character, however, which had already more than once brought him
into boyish scrapes, and which threatened, if not corrected, to
be injurious to his career through life. He was naturally
high-spirited; and, having been indulged by his mother, and
seldom controlled by his male guardian, a brother some ten years
older than himself, Harry was rather disposed to be self-willed,
and cherished some false notions regarding independence of
character. His friends hoped, however, that as he grew older, he
would become wiser. Something of this feeling had been mixed up
with the motives which had lately led him to take a decided step
for the future.

>From a boy, Harry had been more or less the companion and
play-fellow of Elinor Wyllys and Jane Graham, whom he looked upon
as cousins, owing to a near family connexion. He had always felt
very differently, however, towards the two girls. Jane, a little
beauty from her birth, had been an indolent and peevish child,
often annoying Harry by selfish interference with their plans and
amusements. Elinor, on the contrary, had always been a favourite
playmate. She was an intelligent, generous child, of an
uncommonly fine temper and happy disposition. As for her plain
face, the boy seldom remembered it. They were both gay, clever
children, who suited each other remarkably well, in all their
little ways and fancies. Now, within the last year, it had struck
Harry that his brother Robert and his sister-in-law, Mrs.
Hazlehurst, were very desirous of making a match between Jane
Graham and himself. He had overheard some trifling remark on the
subject, and had suffered an afternoon's very stupid teasing and
joking, about Jane, from a talkative old bachelor relation. This
was quite sufficient to rouse the spirit of independence, in a
youth of his years and disposition. When, at length, he heard a
proposition that Jane should accompany them abroad, he went so
far as to look upon it as something very like manoeuvring {sic}.
HE was not a man to be led by others, in the choice of a wife.
Jane might be a beauty--no doubt she was--but he had no such
extravagant admiration for mere beauty. There was Elinor, for
instance; she was a very different girl, though without any
beauty; she was just the kind of person he liked. She was so
warm-hearted and generous in her feelings--without a bit of
nonsense; she was so clever--could catch a thought in a moment,
and always understood and enjoyed a good thing. Then her manners,
too, were charming, so simple and natural; while Jane had no
manners at all. Then, everybody said she was remarkably graceful,
in a perfectly natural way;--how well she rode! Jane was even
afraid to mount. And how pleasantly Elinor sang--and he was so
fond of music. Jane would do very well to sit and look at all day
long; but, for walking, talking, riding, singing--ay, for
thinking and feeling, Elinor would make precisely such a
companion as a man of sense would wish for. By dint of dwelling
on Elinor's good qualities, and on what he fancied the plans of
his brother and sister-in-law, he came to the conclusion that the
only thing to be done, under the circumstances, by a man of any
character--by a man who had an opinion of his own, was to go
immediately to Mr. Wyllys, and request his permission to address
Elinor.

Harry was a great favourite with his uncle--from a child the
young man had always given this title to Mr. Wyllys--and he had
more than once expressed to his daughter, a wish that Hazlehurst
and Elinor might, some years thence, take a fancy for each other.
In the mean time he seemed to look upon them as children, and
left matters to take care of themselves. Harry's proposal was,
therefore, quite unexpected at the moment, and took him by
surprise; he seemed to think Hazlehurst decidedly too young, at
present--he had not yet acquired his profession. This little
difficulty in the opening of the affair, merely served to rouse
Harry's eloquence; and as his youth was really the only objection
against him, he succeeded, before long, in obtaining Mr. Wyllys's
cheerful consent to his endeavouring, during the next two months,
to interest Elinor in his behalf.

Miss Agnes, when informed of what had passed, was quite startled;
she thought both parties too young to take so decided a step. But
her father had given his formal consent, and she could not
seriously oppose it; especially when she remembered that she,
also, had more than once indulged the idea that some five or six
years later, Harry would make a very good husband for her adopted
daughter.

No one in the family was more surprised at Harry's advances than
Elinor herself. They had been so much together, ever since she
could remember, and had always been such good friends, in an
open, brother-and-sisterly way, that even in the last year or
two, when indistinct ideas of love and matrimony had
occasionally, like distant events, cast their shadows before,
Harry had never once presented himself to her fancy in the light
of a suitor. It required a day or two for her to comprehend the
full meaning of Harry's proceedings; she could say neither yes,
nor no. This hesitation, very much increased Hazlehurst's
perseverance; but her aunt, who looked on anxiously, had
stipulated that nothing decided should be required of her, until
Harry left them.

In the mean time, a day or two had been sufficient for Mr. Wyllys
to become not only reconciled to the idea, but so well pleased
with the appearance of things, that he amused himself with
looking on at Harry in his new character of a lover; and
generally once a day, had some little joke at the expense of
Elinor's embarrassment. But now, the two months had passed; Harry
was to sail the next week for France--and Elinor, the morning
after her birth-day, was to give a decided answer.

It was no longer very difficult to foresee that this answer would
be favourable. In fact, Harry, who was thoroughly gentlemanly by
nature and habit, had made his attentions just what they ought to
have been under the circumstances; and, with the full approbation
of her own friends, and all Harry's good qualities appearing in
their best light, the two months had proved sufficient to direct
Elinor's childish affection for him into another and a deeper
channel. The letter she had received on the night of her
birth-day, caused a moment's indecision when, the next morning,
after breakfast, as Mrs. Stanley and Mrs. George Wyllys left the
room, her grandfather playfully asked her "what they should do
with Harry?"

But she scarcely knew in what shape to express the thought that
arose in her mind, and the feeling merely gave an additional
touch of embarrassment to her manner, which was only looked upon
as quite natural at the moment.

"I shall think myself very badly treated, Elinor," said Harry,
observing her hesitation, "if you turn me off like a common
acquaintance, after we have been the best friends in the world
for nobody knows how long."

"Well, Nelly," said her grandfather, "what is it, my child? Shall
we tell Harry to go to Paris and cultivate his moustaches, and
forget everything else?"

"Oh, no;" said Elinor, smiling as she held out her hand to
Hazlehurst, though without looking up: "pray, don't come back a
dandy!"

The affair was settled. The young people parted with the
understanding that when Hazlehurst returned from Europe, and had
acquired his profession, they were to be married; and Harry went
to Philadelphia, to join his brother, and make the last
arrangements for their voyage.

Jane, too, left Elinor a few days later; and Miss Wyllys, who had
charge of her--as Mr. and Mrs. Graham lived in Charleston--placed
her at one of the fashionable boarding schools of New York. Miss
Adeline Taylor had, in the mean time, informed her parents that
she had changed her mind as to the school which was to have the
honour of completing her education: she should NOT return to Mrs.
A-----'s, but go to Mrs. G-----'s, which was a more fashionable
establishment. Not that she had anything to complain of at Mrs.
A-----'s; but she thought the young ladies at Mrs. G-----'s
dressed more elegantly, and besides, she felt the impossibility
of remaining separated from Jane Graham, her new bosom friend.
These two young ladies had met twice previously to the evening
they had passed together at Wyllys-Roof; Adeline had upon one
occasion been in the same boat with Jane, going and coming,
between New York and Longbridge, and she had already done all in
her power towards getting up a desperate intimacy. Her mother, as
a matter of course, did not interfere with the young lady's
preference for Mrs. G-----'s school--why should she? It was
Adeline's affair; she belonged to the submissive class of
American parents, who think it an act of cruelty to influence or
control their children, even long before they have arrived at
years of discretion. As for Mr. Taylor, he had discovered that
the daughters of several fashionable families were at Mrs.
G-----'s, and was perfectly satisfied with the change; all he had
to do was, to make out the cheques in one name instead of
another. Adeline managed the whole affair herself; and having at
last been to a young party, for which she had been waiting, and
having satisfied some lingering scruples as to the colours of the
silk dresses which composed the winter uniform of the school, and
which she at first thought frightfully unbecoming to her
particular style of beauty, Miss Taylor one morning presented
herself at Mrs. G-----'s door, and was regularly admitted as one
of the young band in fashionable training under that lady's roof.
Jane, it is true, did not show quite as much rapture at the
meeting as Adeline could have wished; but, then, Miss Taylor had
already discovered that this last bosom-friend was of a calmer
disposition than the dozen who had preceded her.

Harry had not been a day in Philadelphia, before he announced to
his brother, his engagement with Elinor; for he was much too
frank by nature to have any taste for unnecessary mystery.

"I have a piece of news for you, Robert," he said, as he entered
the drawing-room before dinner, and found his brother lying on a
sofa.

"Good news, I hope," replied Mr. Robert Hazlehurst.

"May I not have my share of it?" asked Mrs. Hazlehurst, whom
Harry had not observed.

"Certainly; it is a piece of good fortune to your humble servant,
in which I hope you will both be interested."

"Why, really, Harry," said his sister-in-law, "there is a touch
of importance, with a dash of self-complacency and mystery in
your expression, that look a little lover-like. Have you come to
announce that you are determined to offer yourself to some belle
or other before we sail?"

"The deed is already done," said Harry, colouring a little; as
much, perhaps, from a mischievous satisfaction in the
disappointment he foresaw, as from any other feeling.

"No!" said his brother, turning towards him with some anxiety.
"Offered yourself--and accepted, then; or, of course, you would
not mention it."

"Pray, tell us, Harry, who is to be our new sister," said Mrs.
Hazlehurst, kindly, and with some interest.

"I have half a mind to tease you," he replied, smiling.

"I never should guess," said Mrs. Hazlehurst. "I had no idea you
were attached to any one--had you, Robert?"

"Not I! It must be somebody at Longbridge--he has been there more
than half his time lately. Come, tell us, Harry, like a man; who
is it?" asked Robert Hazlehurst, naturally feeling interested in
his younger brother's choice.

"No one precisely at Longbridge," said Harry, smiling.

"Who can it be?--And actually engaged?" added Mrs. Hazlehurst,
who saw that Harry would not explain himself without being
questioned.

"Engaged, very decidedly, and positively, I am happy to say. Is
there anything so very wonderful in my having declared an
attachment to Elinor; I am sure I have liked her better than any
one else all my life."

"Engaged to Elinor!" exclaimed Robert Hazlehurst, much relieved.
"I am delighted to hear it. It is a wiser step than one would
always expect from a young gentleman of your years."

"Engaged to Elinor! I wish you joy with all my heart," repeated
his sister-in-law. "It had not occurred to me to think of any one
so near and dear to us already; you could not have done better,
Harry," she added, with a perfectly frank, open smile.

To tell the truth, Hazlehurst was not a little surprised, and
rather mortified by this decided approbation--since it proved he
had been unjust, and that he had deceived himself as to what he
had supposed the wishes of his brother, and the plans of his
sister-in-law. He did not, however, for an instant, regret the
step he had taken; his regard for Elinor was too sincere to allow
of any other feeling than that of satisfaction, in remembering
their engagement. But it had now become a matter of indifference
whether Jane were to join the European party or not.

On the appointed day, the Hazlehursts sailed. They went abroad
with more advantages than many others, for they carried with them
good sense, good principles, and a good education, and were well
prepared to enjoy the wide field of observation that lay before
them. There was every reason to hope, from the encouraging
opinions of his physicians, that Mr. Robert Hazlehurst's health
would be entirely restored by travelling; his wife looked forward
to the excursion with much pleasure, and Harry was delighted with
the plan. They had an old family friend in Paris, an excellent
woman, who was in every way qualified to redeem the promises she
had given, of soon making them feel at home in France. Madame de
Bessieres was the widow of a distinguished emigre, and had passed
a long exile with her husband in America. They had been for years
near neighbours of Mr. Wyllys, and this gentleman had had it in
his power, at different times, to render services of some
importance to his French friends. Madame de Bessieres and her
family were grateful for these acts of kindness: she had known
the young people at Wyllys-Roof, and felt an interest in them
all; for their own sakes, as well as from a sincere respect and
regard for Mr. Wyllys and his daughter, this lady was anxious to
show the Hazlehursts every friendly attention in her power. Under
these agreeable auspices, the party left home, expecting to be
absent for a couple of years.



CHAPTER IV.

"Farewell, my lord! Good wishes, praise, and prayers,
Shall Suffolk ever have of Margaret."
Henry VI.

{William Shakespeare, "1 Henry VI", V.iii.173-174}

THE arrival of letters from Harry, often accompanied by something
pretty or useful, as a souvenir for herself, were the principal
events of the next winter, to Elinor. Several months of the cold
weather were passed, as usual, by Mr. Wyllys and his family, in
Philadelphia; and Miss Agnes thought it time that her niece
should make her appearance in society. But Elinor found less
pleasure, than most girls, in the gay world. She was seldom
appreciated, in mixed company; she was too young, at that time,
and too modest, for her intelligence to be generally known or
cared for; while her personal appearance exposed her to be
entirely overlooked and neglected by strangers; it had indeed
occasionally been the cause of mortifications, more deeply felt
by Miss Agnes, than by Elinor herself. People talk so lightly, in
what is called general society; heartless remarks are uttered
with so much careless indifference on all sides, that it was not
surprising some unkind observations should have reached her ear.
It was not until the season that she had been introduced into a
larger circle, that Elinor became better aware of her
disadvantages in this respect. She had been so tenderly loved and
watched over by her grandfather and aunt; she was so generally
liked by those who had been hitherto her companions, that she had
not been aware of all the consequences of her position. She knew
that her appearance was not attractive, while her young friends
were more or less pretty; still, she had thought but little on
the subject, until her introduction into a larger circle led her
to remark the great importance which the world attaches to mere
beauty, in women, at least. But, with this reflection, came also
the gratifying recollection of Harry's regard for her; and it
served indeed to increase very much her attachment to him, by
giving it an additional feeling of gratitude.

Harry's letters were kind and affectionate, and Elinor thought
them very amusing. It was impossible that an intelligent,
well-educated young man, suddenly transported from the New, to
the Old World, should not find a great deal to say; and Harry
told his adventures very agreeably. His letters to Elinor were
almost as straight-forward and matter-of-fact, as they might have
been if she had already become his wife. His brother's health was
improving; so much so, that they were talking of leaving Mrs.
Hazlehurst, and her children, in Paris, while Harry and the
invalid made a six weeks' excursion to England. Madame de
Bessieres had been all kindness, and they were delighted with the
society they met at her house. "Madame de Bessieres remembers you
perfectly," said Harry, in one of his letters, "and as she is
sure, under Aunt Agnes' care, you must have grown up with all the
good and agreeable qualities that she loved you for when a child,
she agrees with your humble servant, in thinking him a very lucky
fellow, and very prudent, in having secured you before he left
home. She is really a most excellent and charming woman, as kind
as possible to Louisa. Her American friends have every reason to
be satisfied with her recollections of them, especially Mr.
Wyllys and Aunt Agnes, whom she evidently appreciates. Her
nephew, young de Guivres, and I, are very good friends already,
and often take a gallop together in the Bois de Boulogne. It is a
settled thing, Elinor, dear, that I am to bring you to France,
one of these days; that is to say, if you have no objections;
which, of course, you will not have. Tom Taylor is here still,
and his progressive steps in civilization are quite amusing, to a
looker-on; every time I see him, I am struck with some new
change--some fresh growth in elegance. I was going to say, that
he will turn out a regular dandy; but he would have to go to
London for that; he will prove rather a sort of second-rate
petit-maitre a la Parisienne; which is entirely a different
creature. It would do your heart good to see Robert; he eats like
a ploughman, if ploughmen ever devour poulets a la Marengo, or
ortolans a la Provencale. I wish I could give as good an account
of Creighton, who arrived in the last packet; poor fellow, he has
not revived at all, and, I fear, will never be better. His wife
is with him; as pretty and agreeable as ever. I hope Bruno
behaves well, and remembers that it is now his chief duty to
devote himself to your service."

{"petit-maitre a la Parisienne" = a ridiculously pretentious
dandy, Parisian-style; "poulets a la Marengo" = chicken Marengo,
a recipe supposedly invented by Napoleon's chef after the Battle
of Marengo in 1800; "ortolans a la Provencale" = ortolans (a
variety of bunting) in the style of southern France (Provence)
(French)}

This was the last letter Elinor received in Philadelphia, for
early in the spring the family returned to the country. She was
never happier than at Wyllys-Roof, and resumed with delight
occupations and amusements, which would have appeared very
insipid to many elegant belles whom she left behind her--since
the mornings were to be passed without visiting or shopping, the
evenings without parties or flirtations. In a quiet country
house, with no other young person in the family, there was of
course, at Wyllys-Roof, very little excitement--that necessary
ingredient of life to many people; and yet, Elinor had never
passed a tedious day there. On the longest summer morning, or
winter evening, she always found enough to occupy her time and
attention.

To her, Wyllys-Roof was home; and that is a word of a broader and
more varied meaning in the country than in a town. The cares, the
sympathies of a country home, embrace a wide circle, and bring
with them pleasures of their own. People know enough of all their
neighbours, to take part in any interesting event that may befall
them; we are sorry to hear that A., the shoemaker, is going to
move away; we are glad to find that B., the butcher, has made
money enough to build a new house. One has some acquaintance with
everybody, from the clergyman to the loafer; few are the faces
that one does not know. Even the four-footed animals of the
neighbourhood are not strangers: this is the Doctor's
Newfoundland dog; that is some old lady's tortoise-shell cat. One
knows the horses, as well as the little urchins who ride them to
water; the cows, and those who milk them. And then, country-folks
are nature's freeholders; they enjoy a full portion of the earth,
the air, the sky, with the thousand charms an ever-merciful
Creator has lavished on them. Every inanimate object--this hill,
that wood, the brook, the bridge, C.'s farm-house, and D.'s
barn--to the very highway, as far as eye can reach, all form
pleasing parts of a country home. In a city, on the contrary, we
live surrounded by strangers. Home is entirely restricted to our
own fire-side. One knows a neighbour's card, perhaps, but not his
face. There may have been a funeral or a wedding next-door, and
we learn it only from the morning paper. Then, even if a fixture
oneself, how is it possible for human sensibilities to cling very
closely to the row of brick houses opposite, which are
predestined to be burned or pulled down in a few years? Nor can
one be supposed to look with much pleasure at the omnibus horses,
or half-starved pigs that may belong to one's street. No doubt,
that with hearts warm and true, we may have a FIRESIDE in town;
but HOME with its thousand pleasant accessories--HOME, in its
fullest meaning, belongs especially to the country.

Elinor was a country girl, born and bred. Though banished from
Chesnut {sic} Street, she would have been well satisfied with the
usual occupations of a country life, varied only by quiet walks
with her aunt, rides with her grandfather, chatty meetings with a
few young companions, or long visits from old friends, whose
names and faces had been familiar to her all her life. The first
few weeks after her return to Wyllys-Roof, she had, of course,
more than usual to see and hear. Elinor had been absent from home
but a few months; yet, even in that short space, she found
changes had occurred in the neighbourhood--varied, as usual--some
of a sad, some of a pleasant nature. Miss Agnes and her niece
found one place vacant among those whom they were in the habit of
seeing often; the father of a family who lived within sight of
their own windows, had died suddenly, and left a widow and
children to struggle with the world: but they were neither
friendless nor repining, and submitted with humble resignation to
their severe affliction, prepared to meet with faith and hope the
additional cares and toils allotted to them. One of Elinor's
young friends, too, was lying on a sick-bed at Longbridge--a
beautiful girl of her own age wasted by consumption; but she was
calm and peaceful, though without hope this side the grave. We
shall scarcely forgive ourselves for making even a distant
allusion to one portion of Elinor's pleasures and labours,
although more especially connected with home; since none could
perform their religious duties with less ostentation, with more
single-hearted sincerity--none could more carefully follow the
precept, to "give with simplicity," than Miss Wyllys, and the
niece she had educated.

{"Chesnut Street" = Chestnut Street, a fashionable street in
Philadelphia}

Of course, the ladies had immediately resumed their intercourse
with their old friends; and they had many neighbourly visits to
pay. Not your formal, fashionable morning calls, lasting just
three minutes, when you are so unfortunate as to find at home the
individual you are paying off; no, indeed; good, honest visits of
nearly an hour's length, giving time to exchange many kindly
inquiries as to the health of all the members of the family, the
condition of the garden, and promises of the crops; and even
occasionally allowing Mr. Wyllys to take a look at some addition
to the live-stock, in the shape of calves, colts, or pigs. Then,
Mrs. Bernard had just moved into a new house, whose comforts and
conveniences must certainly be shown by herself, and appreciated
by her friends. Then, Elinor had to kiss, and make acquaintance
with several tiny pieces of humanity, in white frocks and lace
caps--little creatures born during the past winter; of course,
the finest babies one could wish to see, and the delight of their
parents' hearts. Then, Alida Van Horne was going to be married;
as Elinor was to be her bridesmaid, a great deal of talking and
consulting took place on the occasion, as matter of course. But,
although her time was fully occupied in many different ways, no
day was too pleasant or too busy for more than one thought to be
given to Harry Hazlehurst.



CHAPTER V.

"Anch' io son pittore!"
CORREGGIO.

{"Anch' io son pittore" = "I too, am a painter!" (Italian).
Antonio Allegri da Correggio (Italian painter, 1494-1534),
exclamation on viewing Raphael's "St. Cecilia" at Bologna (1525)}

THERE was one subject, in which the family at Wyllys-Roof felt
particularly interested just then, and that was, Charlie
Hubbard's picture. This piece was to decide finally the question,
whether Charlie should be an artist, or a merchant's clerk; a
question which he himself considered all important, and which
caused much anxiety to his friends.

The house in which the Hubbards lived was a grey, wooden cottage,
of the smallest size; curious gossips had, indeed, often wondered
how it had ever been made to contain a large family; but some
houses, like certain purses, possess capabilities of expansion,
quite independent of their apparent size, and connected by
mysterious sympathies with the heads and hearts of their owners.
This cottage belonged to the most ancient and primitive style of
American architecture; what may be called the comfortable, common
sense order--far superior, one might suppose to either Corinthian
or Composite, for a farm-house. The roof was low, and unequally
divided, stretching, on one side, with a long, curving slope,
over the southern front; which was scarce seven feet high:
towards the road the building was a little more elevated, for a
dormer-window gave it the dignity of a story and a half. Not only
the roof, but the walls--we have classical authority for wooden
walls--were covered with rounded shingles, long since grey, and
in spots, moss-grown. Twice the cottage had escaped a more
brilliant exterior; upon one occasion it had been inhabited by an
ambitious family, who talked of a coat of red paint; fortunately,
they moved away, before concluding a bargain with the painter.
Again, when the Hubbards took possession of the 'old grey house,'
a committee of ladies actually drove over from Longbridge, with
the intention of having it whitewashed; but, the experienced old
negro engaged to clean generally, gave it as his opinion, that
the shingles were not worth the compliment. The windows were very
small; more than half the glass was of the old, blue bull's-eye
pattern, no longer to be found at modern glaziers, and each heavy
window-shutter had a half-moon cut in its upper panel, to let in
the daylight. When we add, that there was a low porch before the
door, with a sweet-briar on one side, and a snowball on the
other, the reader will have a correct idea of the house inhabited
by our friends, the Hubbards.

{"Corinthian or Composite" = two of the classical orders of
architecture, based on the style of column used. The "Composite
order," however, was something of a Cooper family joke, first
used by James Fenimore Cooper in "The Pioneers" (1823) to
describe a pretentious building of no particular style at all.
The Coopers, father and daughter, were contemptuous of buildings
that pretended to be Greek temples}

The cottage stood within a little door-yard, near the gate which
opened on the lawn of Wyllys-Roof; and, immediately opposite the
place recently purchased by Mr. Taylor. Here the family had lived
for the last twelve years; and, from that time, Miss Patsey had
been obliged to struggle against poverty, with a large family of
younger brothers and sisters, dependent, in a great measure, upon
her prudence and exertions.

Mr. Hubbard, the father, a respectable Presbyterian minister, had
been, for half his life, in charge of a congregation in
Connecticut, where, by-the-bye, Mr. Pompey Taylor, at that time a
poor clerk, had been an unsuccessful suitor for Patsey's hand.
After a while, the family had removed to Longbridge, where they
had lived very comfortably and usefully, until, at length, the
minister died, leaving his widow and seven children entirely
unprovided for. Happily, they possessed warm friends and kind
relatives. The old grey house, with a garden and a little meadow
adjoining, was purchased for his brother's family by Mr. Joseph
Hubbard, known to the young people as Uncle Josie: he was a
merchant, in easy circumstances, and cheerfully gave the thousand
dollars required. The cottage was furnished by the minister's
congregation. Many useful presents were made, and many small
debts forgiven by kind neighbours. With this humble outfit the
family commenced their new career. Mrs. Hubbard, the second wife,
and mother of the three younger children, had lost the use of one
hand, by an attack of paralysis. She had always been a woman of
very feeble character; and although treated with unvarying
kindness and respect by her step-children, could do little
towards the government or assistance of the family. It was Patsey
who toiled, and managed, and thought for them all. With the aid
of two younger sisters, mere children, at first, and an old black
woman, who came once a week to wash, all the work was done by
herself, including baking, ironing, cooking, cleaning, &c.; and
yet Patsey found time to give up four hours a day to teaching a
class of some dozen children, belonging to several neighbouring
families. This school furnished the only money that passed
through her hands, and contributed the only regular means of
support to the family. They received, however, much kind
assistance, in many different ways; indeed, otherwise, it would
have been scarcely possible to keep a fireside of their own.
There had been, in all, nine children; but the eldest son, a
missionary, died before his father; the second had already gone
to Kentucky, to seek his fortunes as a physician; he had married
young, and, with children of his own to support, it seemed but
little he could do for his step-mother; he sent for a younger
brother, however, engaging to provide for him entirely. Another
son was educated by his rich Longbridge relative, kind Uncle
Josie; another uncle, a poor old bachelor, known to the
neighbourhood as Uncle Dozie, from a constant habit of napping,
did his utmost, in paying the school-bills of his niece
Catherine. In the course of a few years, Uncle Josie's protege
became an assistant in the school where he had been educated;
Kate Hubbard, Uncle Dozie's favourite, married a quick-witted,
but poor, young lawyer, already introduced to the reader, by the
name of Clapp.

Still, there remained in the family two younger daughters, and
Charlie, besides Miss Patsey and Mrs. Hubbard. By the exertions
and guidance of Patsey, the assistance of friends, and their own
good conduct, the young people, in due time, were all growing up,
endowed with good principles, good educations, and with
respectable prospects opening before them. At the period of our
narrative, the third daughter hoped shortly to become an
under-governess in the school where she had been educated; and
Mary, the youngest of the family, had such a decided taste for
music, that it was thought she would have no difficulty in
supporting herself, by giving lessons, in the course of two or
three years. Of all the family, Charlie was the one that caused
his friends the most anxiety. He was a fine, spirited,
intelligent boy; and Uncle Josie had promised to procure a
situation for him, with his son-in-law, a commission-merchant and
auctioneer, in New York. This plan was very pleasing to Mrs.
Hubbard and Miss Patsey; but, unfortunately, Charlie seemed to
have no taste for making money, and a fondness for pictures and
pencils, that amounted almost to a passion. Here was an
unexpected obstacle; Charlie was the pet and spoiled child of the
family. All the rest of the young people had been quite satisfied
with the different means of support that had offered for each;
and they had followed their respective careers with so much quiet
good sense, that Charlie's remonstrances against the
counting-house, and his strong fancy for an artist's life, was
something quite new, and which Miss Patsey scarcely knew how to
answer. There was nothing in the least poetical or romantic about
Patsey Hubbard, who was all honest kindness and straight-forward
common sense. She had no feeling whatever for the fine arts;
never read a work of imagination; scarcely knew one tune from
another; and had never looked with pleasure at any picture, but
one, a portrait of her own respected father, which still occupied
the place of honour in their little parlour, nearly covering one
side of the wall. This painting, to speak frankly, was anything
but a valuable work of art, or a good likeness of the worthy
minister. The face was flat and unmeaning, entirely devoid of
expression or relief; the body was stiff and hard, like
sheet-iron, having, also, much the color of that material, so far
as it was covered by the black ministerial coat. One arm was
stretched across a table, conspicuous from a carrot-coloured
cloth, and the hand was extended over a pile of folios; but it
looked quite unequal to the task of opening them. The other arm
was disposed of in some manner satisfactory to the artist, no
doubt, but by no means easy for the spectator to discover, since
the brick-coloured drapery which formed the back-ground to the
whole, certainly encroached on the side where nature had placed
it. Such as it was, however, Miss Patsey admired this painting
more than any she had ever seen, and its gilt frame was always
carefully covered with green gauze, no longer necessary to
preserve the gilding, but rather to conceal its blackened lustre;
but Charlie's sister belonged to that class of amateurs who
consider the frame as an integral part of the work of art. It
was, perhaps, the most promising fact regarding any future hopes
of young Hubbard's, as an artist, that this same portrait was far
from satisfying his taste, uncultivated as it was. Charlie was,
for a long time, so much ashamed of his passion for drawing, that
he carefully concealed the little bits of paper on which he made
his sketches, as well as the few old, coarse engravings he had
picked up to copy. But, one day, Miss Patsey accidentally
discovered these treasures between the leaves of a number of the
Longbridge Freeman, carefully stowed away in an old chest of
drawers in the little garret-room where Charlie slept. She found
there a head of Washington; one of Dr. Blair; a view of Boston;
and an old French print called L'Ete, representing a shepherdess
making hay in high-heeled shoes and a hoop; there were copies of
these on bits of paper of all sizes, done with the pen or
lead-pencil; and lastly, a number of odd-looking sketches of
Charlie's own invention. The sight of these labours of art, was
far from giving Miss Patsey pleasure, although it accounted for
the surprising disappearance of her writing-paper, and the
extraordinary clipping, she had remarked, of late, on all notes
and letters that were left lying about, from which every scrap of
white paper was sure to be cut off. She spoke to Charlie on the
subject, and, of course, he had to confess. But he did not
reform; on the contrary, matters soon grew worse, for he began to
neglect his studies. It happened that he passed the whole summer
at home, as the school where his brother had been assistant, and
he himself a pupil, was broken up. At last, Miss Patsey talked to
him so seriously, about wasting time on trifles, that Charlie,
who was a sensible, warm-hearted boy, and well aware of the
exertions his sister had made for him, promised amendment, and
actually burnt all his own sketches, though the precious
engravings were still preserved. This improvement only lasted a
while, however, when he again took to drawing. This time he
resolutely respected Miss Patsey's paper, but that only made
matters worse, for he became more ambitious; he began to sketch
from nature; and, having a special fancy for landscape, he used
to carry his slate and arithmetic into the fields; and, instead
of becoming more expert in compound interest, he would sit for
hours composing pictures, and attempting every possible variety
in the views of the same little mill-pond, within a short
distance of the house. He soon became quite expert in the
management of his slate and pencil, and showed a good deal of
ingenuity in rubbing in and out the white shading on the black
ground, something in the manner of a stump-drawing; but, of
course, these sketches all disappeared before Charlie went to
take his regular lesson in book-keeping, from the neighbour who
had promised to keep him in practice until the winter, when he
was to enter the counting-house.

{"Dr. Blair" = possibly Robert Blair (Scottish poet, 1699-1747),
author of "The Grave"; or James Blair (1656-1743), founder of the
College of William and Mary in Williamsburg, Virginia. "L'Ete" =
summertime (French); "stump drawing" = probably from "stump", a
pencil-like drawing implement of rolled paper or of rubber, used
to smooth or rub in dark lines}

At last, however, Charlie determined to have an explanation with
his mother and sister; he made a clean breast as to the misdoings
on the slate, and boldly coming to the point, suggested the
possibility of his being able to support himself, one day, as an
artist, instead of a commission merchant. Poor Miss Patsey, this
was a sad blow to her! It had been her cherished ambition to see
Charlie an upright, prosperous merchant; and now that his
prospects were brightening, and a situation was provided for him,
that he should be only a painter! She had a very low opinion of
artists, as a class, and she would almost as soon have expected
Charlie to become a play-actor, or a circus-rider. When the boy
found that both Uncle Josie and Uncle Dozie thought his idea a
very foolish one, that Miss Patsey was very much distressed, and
Mrs. Hubbard could not be made to comprehend the difference
between an artist and a house-painter, he again abandoned his own
cherished plans, and resumed his commercial studies.
Unfortunately, one day, Elinor was choosing a book as a present
for her old play-fellow, at a bookstore in Philadelphia, when she
laid her hand on the Lives of the Painters. These volumes finally
upset Charlie's philosophy; he immediately set to work to
convince Miss Patsey and Uncle Josie, by extracts from the
different lives, that it was very possible to be a good and
respectable man, and not only support himself, but make a
fortune, as an artist. Of course, he took care to skip over all
unpleasant points, and bad examples; but when he came to anything
creditable, he made a note of it--and, one day, pursued Miss
Patsey into the cellar, to read to her the fact that Reubens had
been an ambassador.

{"Reubens" = Peter Paul Rubens (1577-1640), famous Flemish
painter, who served as a diplomat in Spain from 1626-30}

Miss Patsey confided her anxieties to Mr. Wyllys, who was already
aware of Charlie's propensities, and, indeed, thought them
promising. He advised Mrs. Hubbard and Patsey, not to oppose the
boy's wishes so strongly, but to give him an opportunity of
trying what he really could do; and as the expense was a very
important consideration with the Hubbards, he made Charlie a
present of a palette and colours, and kindly took him, one day,
to Philadelphia, to see Mr. S-----, who gave him some advice as
to the way in which he should go to work. This assistance Charlie
received, upon condition that he should also, at the same time,
continue his other studies; and in case any two artists that his
friend might consult, should declare, on seeing his work, that he
did not show talent enough to promise reasonable success, he was,
from that time, to devote himself to business. For a while,
Charlie was a great deal happier than a king. He immediately
began a view of his beloved little mill-pond, and then attempted
one of a small sheet of water in the neighbourhood, called
Chewattan Lake. These, after having been touched and re-touched,
he carried, with a portfolio of drawings, to New York, and with a
fluttering heart and trembling hands laid them before two
distinguished artists, Mr. C----- and Mr. I-----, to whom Mr.
Wyllys had given him letters. The decision of these gentlemen was
not discouraging, upon the whole; but they found that he had set
out wrong in the arrangement of his colours, and having corrected
the mistake, they proposed his painting another piece in oils, to
determine whether the faults in the first were the result of
ignorance, or of a false eye for colour; for on this point his
judges disagreed. It must be confessed that Charlie's clouds
might give some idea of such vapours as they may exist in the
moon; but certainly the tints the youth had given them were very
remarkable for an earthly atmosphere.

It was upon this last picture--another view of Chewattan
Lake--that Charles was engaged, heart and soul, when the Wyllyses
returned home. One afternoon, Mr. Wyllys proposed to Miss Agnes
and Elinor, to walk over and call upon Miss Patsey, and see what
their young friend had done.

"Here we are, Charlie, my lad; you promised us a look at your
work this week, you know;" said Mr. Wyllys, as he walked into the
neat little door-yard before the Hubbards' house, accompanied by
the ladies.

Charlie was at work in the vegetable garden adjoining the
door-yard, weeding the radishes.

"Everything looks in very good order here, Charles," observed
Miss Wyllys. "You have not given up the garden, I see, although
you have so much to do now."

"Your beds and your flowers look as neat as possible," said
Elinor; "just as usual. You don't seem to have gone far enough in
your career to have learned that, un beau desordre is the effect
of art," she added, smiling.

{"un beau desordre" = a pleasing lack of order (French)}

"No, indeed; it is to be hoped I never shall, for that would
throw my mother and sister into despair, at once!"

Miss Patsey, who had heard the voices of the party, now came from
the little kitchen, where she had been baking, to receive her
friends.

"Elinor has just remarked that things do not look as if you had
an artist in the house; everything is neat as wax," said Mr.
Wyllys, stepping into the little parlour.

Miss Patsey was beginning to resign herself to hearing Charlie
called an artist, although the word had still an unpleasant sound
to her ear.

"Charles is very good," she replied, "about keeping his things in
their place; he does not make much litter."

After some inquiries about Mrs. Hubbard--who, it seems, was
taking her afternoon nap--Mr. Wyllys asked to see Charlie's work.

"You must let us look at it, Charles," said Miss Agnes; "we have
been waiting, you know, quite impatiently for the last week."

"If we must go up to your STUDIO for it, we'll rest awhile
first," said Mr. Wyllys taking a seat.

"You mortify me, sir," said Charlie, "by using such great words
about my little doings, even in pleasantry. I am half afraid to
show my work; but I will bring it down."

"I hope we shall find some improvement--that is all we can expect
at present, my boy. We don't look for a Claude yet."

{"Claude" = Claude Lorrain (1600-1662), French painter famous for
his landscapes, who was an important influence on the American
Hudson River School}

Charlie blushed, in the excess of his modesty.

"Pray, bring all your sketches, too," said Elinor. "Mary wrote me
you were drawing all winter; you must have a great deal that we
have not seen."

"They are certainly not worth looking at; but such as they are,
you shall see them."

"And don't forget the Arithmetic, too," said Mr. Wyllys, smiling;
"we had better look a little into Compound Interest, of course."

Charlie looked as if that were rather a sore subject, as he left
the room.

While he was gone, a carriage stopped at the little gate. It
proved to be the Taylors; and Mr. Taylor, with his wife, and a
couple of children, walked in. After a general salutation had
been exchanged, and two additional chairs had been brought from a
bed-room, to accommodate such an unusual number of visiters, Mr.
Taylor turned to Miss Patsey, and observed, in a jocular way:

"It is not etiquette, I believe, to call twice in the same day;
but I hope you will excuse us; for on this occasion, Mrs. Taylor
has come to transact a little business."

"As you seem to be engaged, Miss Hubbard, we will put it off
until another time," said Mrs. Taylor.
"
"Just as you please," replied Miss Patsey. "I am always glad to
see my friends."

Mr. Taylor, however, liked quick measures, and never postponed
business if he could help it.

"We came to see you, this afternoon, about our two youngest
children; if you can conveniently take them into your school, it
would suit us very well."

Charlie, at that moment, returned with his picture in one hand,
and a portfolio in the other. He was rather sorry to find the
Taylors there, for he was far from admiring the gentleman. Mr.
Wyllys was really anxious to see the piece, and asked to look at
it at once. The canvass was placed near a window, in the proper
light, and the covering removed. The Wyllyses were immediately
struck with Charlie's rapid improvement; there was indeed, no
comparison between the young man's first attempts at the art, and
this last piece. His friends all congratulated him on his
success, and Charlie was delighted.

"This settles the question, I think, Miss Patsey," said Mr.
Wyllys.

"I suppose so," said Miss Patsey, with a shake of the head, and a
smile. "I think I can see myself that this picture looks more
natural than the first."

"Quite a tasty painting," said Mr. Taylor, stepping up with a
decided air towards the canvass. "I should conclude, however,
that you would find portRATES a more advantageous business."

"I like landscapes best, sir," replied the youth; and turning to
Mr. Wyllys, he added: "Mr. S----- advised me to please myself as
to the subjects I worked upon."

"Certainly," answered Mr. Wyllys; "and you seem to prefer my
mill-pond, Charlie, to the human face divine."

"But, here are sketches of faces," said Elinor, looking over the
portfolio; "very good, too;--this is excellent--grandpapa, do you
know yourself? and Miss Patsey--very good--Aunt Agnes, too! Why,
Charles, you must have drawn all these from memory."

The sketches Elinor was looking at, were roughly done in ink or
lead-pencil; but were generally good likenesses. Mr. Wyllys took
up one, that had not yet been observed by the rest of the party;
he smiled, and passed it to his granddaughter. Elinor coloured,
and her heart beat as she looked at it, for it was a sketch of
Harry. Mr. Taylor was standing behind her, and recognised it
immediately.

"That is Mr. Hazlehurst, if I am not mistaken; and a very good
likeness, Miss Wyllys."

"I suppose, your son and Harry have met, in Paris, Mr. Taylor,"
said Miss Agnes, by way of turning his attention from Elinor.

"Yes, madam, Thomas mentions having had some intercourse with Mr.
Hazlehurst, and observes, that he sees him, almost every day, in
the TULLYREES; which, Thomas says, is the RENDY-VUSS of the
fashionable world, in Paris."

"Will your son return home soon?"

"Why, no; I think not. He went for six months; but he calculates,
now, to stay some time longer. I am told, Mr. Hazlehurst will not
return until next year;--they might make the European TOWER
together. But Thomas seems to like the CAFFIES and the
BULLY-VARDS of Paris, too much to move from that city."

Elinor was going to take another sketch from the table, when
Charlie quickly passed his hand between Mr. Taylor and herself,
and drew the paper away.

"I beg your pardon--but it is a wretched thing; I did not know it
was there," said the youth, hastily.

"Pray, let me look at it," said Elinor, "for, I thought, I
recognised a friend."

"You must not see it, indeed, Miss Elinor; I dare say, you took
it for anybody but the right person;" said Charlie, a good deal
embarrassed, and hurriedly handing Elinor something else to look
at.

She was surprised at his nervous manner, but said nothing more.

"I honestly think, Charlie," said Mr. Wyllys, who had been
examining the landscape, that Mr. C-----, and Mr. I-----, will
tell you to persevere, after this. There is something about the
water, in your picture, that strikes me as unusually good."

"I am very glad to hear you say so; for there is nothing I like
to paint so much as water. I took great pains with that part of
my piece; but it does not satisfy me yet."

"Do you intend to make use of water-colours altogether, in your
paintings?" asked Mr. Taylor.

Charlie looked puzzled, and the merchant repeated his question.

"I should think, you would find water-colours cheaper; but oils
must be more durable. Which are most generally in use among
painters?"

Charlie, understanding the point, at last, explained that
water-colours, and oils, were two entirely distinct branches of
the art.

"Which is your picture, there, done in?"

"I am learning to paint in oils, sir."

"And that porTRATE, overhead, which is your father, I presume; is
that in oils, too?"

"Yes, sir.--There are very few pictures, of that size, in
water-colours, I believe. Here is a miniature, in water-colours,
which Mrs. Van Horne lent me; I am taking a large picture, in
oils, from it."

Mr. Taylor examined the miniature. "It has puzzled me
considerably," he observed, "to know how painters could change
the size of an object, and be correct, without measuring it off
in feet and inches; but, I suppose, that is what you term
perspective."

One is sometimes surprised by the excessive ignorance, on all
matters concerning the fine arts, betrayed in this country, by
men of some education; very clever, in their way, and quite equal
to making a speech or a fortune, any day. In Europe, just
notions, on such matters, are much more widely spread. But, after
all, such a state of things is perfectly natural; we have
hitherto had no means of cultivating the general taste, in
America, having few galleries or even single works of art, open
to the public. With the means, it is probable, that as we grow
older, we shall improve, in this respect. That there is talent,
ay, genius, in the country, sufficient to produce noble works of
art, has been already proved. Nor can it be doubted, that there
is latent feeling, and taste enough, among the people, to
appreciate them, if it were called forth by cultivation. It is
only a brutal and sluggish nation, who cannot be made to feel, as
well as think. The cultivation necessary, however, is not that
which consists in forcing the whole body of the people to become
conceited smatterers; but that which provides a full supply of
models for mediocrity to copy, and for talent to rival. It is
evident, that common sense requires us to pursue one of two
courses; either to give true talent, in every field--in
literature, in music, painting, sculpture, architecture--some
share of the honourable encouragement which is its due, or else
honestly to resign all claim to national merit, in these branches
of civilization; leaving the honour to the individual. As neither
the government, nor men singly, can do much toward encouraging
the arts, this would seem to be the very field in which societies
might hope to produce great results. Would it not be a good
innovation, if those who often unite to present some public
testimonial of respect to an individual, should select, instead
of the piece of plate, usual on such occasions, a picture or work
of sculpture? Either, it is to be supposed, if respectable in its
way, would be a more agreeable offering, to a person of
education, than gold or silver in the shape most modern workmen
give them. Under such circumstances, who would not prefer a
picture by Cole or Wier {sic}, a statue like Greenough's Medora,
Power's Eve, or Crawford's Orpheus, to all the silver salvers in
New York? Who would not prefer even a copy from some fine bust or
head of antiquity, from some celebrated cabinet picture, to the
best medal that has yet been struck in this country?

{"Cole" = Thomas Cole (1801-1848), American painter and founder
of the so-called Hudson River School of landscape painting;
"Wier" = Robert Weir (1803-1889), another American landscape
painter; "Greenough" = Horatio Greenough (1805-1852), American
sculptor, and a close friend of Susan Fenimore Cooper's father;
"Power" = Hiram Powers (1805-1873), another famous American
sculptor; "Crawford" = Thomas Crawford (1813-1857), another
American sculptor, whose statue of Orpheus was purchased by the
Boston Athenaeum; "cabinet picture" = picture exhibited in a
gallery or museum}

Thoughts like these were passing through Mr. Wyllys's mind, as he
sat looking at Charlie's picture. Mrs. Taylor had, in the mean
time, been making arrangements for her younger children to enter
Miss Patsey's school for the summer. Mr. Taylor having joined the
ladies, something was heard about 'terms,' and the affair
appeared settled. Miss Agnes having mentioned to Mrs. Taylor that
she had intended calling on her, but would now postpone it until
another day, she was so strongly urged to accompany them home,
that she consented to do so, aware that the visit should have
been paid some time before. Accordingly, they all left the
Hubbards together.

It was not often that Miss Patsey's little parlour was so full,
and so much littered, as it had been that afternoon; it generally
looked crowded, if it contained two or three persons besides the
minister's portrait, and was thought out of order, if the large
rocking-chair, or the clumsy, old-fashioned tea-table did not
stand in the very positions they had occupied for the last twelve
years.

Very different was the aspect of things at Mr. Taylor's. Not that
the rooms were imposing, in size, but the elegance of the
furniture was so very striking. Of course, there were two
drawing-rooms, with folding-doors and Brussels carpets; while
everything corresponded to a fashionable model. Mrs. Taylor, good
soul, cared very little for these vanities of life. The
window-blinds, in her two drawing-rooms, were never opened,
except for some occasional morning visiter or evening tea-party;
she herself used what she called the 'living room,' where she
could have her younger children about her, and darn as many
stockings as she chose. The drawing-rooms were opened, however,
for the Wyllyses, who were urged to stay to tea. Miss Agnes
declined the invitation, though Mr. Wyllys and herself remained
long enough to look at the plan of a new house, which Mr. Taylor
was to build shortly; it was to be something quite grand, far
surpassing anything of the kind in the neighbourhood, for Mr.
Taylor had made a mint of money during the past winter.



CHAPTER VI.

"What say'st thou? Wilt thou go along?"
Henry VI.

{William Shakespeare, "3 Henry VI", IV.v.25}

JANE GRAHAM joined Elinor at Wyllys-Roof, after having made her
parting curtsey to Mrs. G-----. Her parents lived at Charleston;
but as her constitution was delicate, and required a more bracing
air than that of Carolina, Jane had been more than once, for a
twelvemonth at a time, entirely under Miss Wyllys's charge, and
was seldom absent from Longbridge for more than a few months
together. It was now settled that she was to remain with Elinor
until the autumn, when her parents, who were coming north for a
couple of months, were to carry her back to Charleston. Miss
Adeline Taylor, of course, found it impossible to remain longer
at school, when Jane, her bosom-friend, had left it. She, too,
returned to her family in the country, prepared to enliven the
neighbourhood to the best of her ability. The intimacy between
these two young ladies was only riveted more closely by the
necessity of living under different roofs; Adeline, indeed,
protested that she found the separation so distressing, that she
thought it would be an excellent plan, to divide the winter
together, between Charleston and New York; Jane to pass the first
three months with her, and she, in her turn, to accompany her
friend to Charleston, later in the season. But Jane thought her
mother would now wish to have her return home as soon as
possible, as it was already nearly a year since she had seen her
family. This affair, however, was not quite decided; Adeline
declaring that she could not bear to give up the idea, hinting
that there were all-important reasons for their remaining
together during the next winter.

Elinor often wondered that her cousin should find so much
pleasure in this intimacy with Miss Taylor, whom she was far from
liking herself; and she could not help thinking that Adeline was
more persevering in pursuit of Jane, than was agreeable. The
dislikes of young girls of seventeen are seldom violent, however,
whatever their likings may be. She made the best of it, and the
three girls were often together.

One evening, when they had been drinking tea at Mrs. Taylor's,
Elinor was much struck with a change in Jane's manner, which she
had already observed several times of late, when they had been in
society together. As they were coming home, and alone together in
the carriage, she spoke to her cousin on the subject.

"How gay you were to-night, Jane! I never saw you in better
spirits."

"Was I? Well, I'm very tired now; it is almost too much for me,
Elinor, to be so lively."

"Was it an effort? Did you not feel well?" inquired Elinor.

"I felt very well, indeed, before we went; but it tires me so to
be animated."

"If it fatigues you to go out, my dear Jane, we had better stay
at home next time we are asked; but I thought you wished to go
this evening."

"So I did. It does not tire me at all to go out; there is nothing
I like so much as going to parties. If one could only do as they
pleased--just sit still, and look on; not laughing and talking
all the time, it would be delightful."

"That is what I have often done at parties," said Elinor,
smiling; "and not from choice either, but from necessity."

"Do you really think that a person who is engaged ought not to
talk?"

"No, indeed;" said Elinor, colouring a little, as she laughed at
the inquiry. "I meant to say, that I had often sat still, without
talking, at parties, because no one took the trouble to come and
speak to me. Not here, at home, where everybody knows me, but at
large parties in town, last winter."

"Oh, but you never cared about being a belle. Adeline says
everybody knows you are engaged, and it is no matter what you do
or say. But Adeline says, to be a belle, you must laugh and talk
all the time, whether you feel like it or not; and she thinks you
need not be particular what you talk about, only you must be all
the time lively. The young men won't dance with you, or hand you
in to supper, unless you entertain them. Adeline says she is too
high-spirited to sit by, moping; and so am I, too, I'm sure!"

"But Jane, you are so very pretty, there is no danger of your
being overlooked."

"No, indeed, you are mistaken," said Jane, with perfect naivete.
"I was at two or three small parties, you know, in New York,
while I was staying with Mrs. Stanley, this spring; well, I
missed more than half the quadrilles, while those fat Miss
Grants, and the Howard girls, were dancing all the evening.
Adeline says it is all because I was not lively. They don't think
anything of you unless you are all the time talking, and
laughing, and moving about; and it does tire me so--I'm almost
sick of it already. I'm sure I shall never be able to be lively
at Charleston, in warm weather. I shan't be a belle, Elinor, I'm
afraid!" said the young beauty, with something like a sigh.

"Poor Jane!" said Elinor, laughing, though she really felt
provoked with Adeline for giving her cousin such notions; Jane
looked half worn-out with the evening's exertions. "And I
believed, all the time, that you were in such good spirits!
Charlie and I were looking at you with surprise; we thought Mr.
Van Horne, and John Bernard must be telling you something very
amusing, you were laughing and talking so much."

"No, indeed; it was I, who was trying to amuse the gentlemen."

But Jane was not destined to try the effect of the Charleston
climate upon the energies of a belle. Her parents arrived in New
York, where she met them. She found letters there from her
sister, Mrs. Robert Hazlehurst, to her mother and herself,
strongly urging the propriety of Jane joining their party, for
the last year of their European visit. Mrs. Hazlehurst thought
travelling would be of great service to her sister, in every
respect; it would, probably, restore her health entirety; in
Paris she would take lessons from the best masters, if she wished
it--besides enjoying the advantages of seeing the Old World; at
the same time that, in her sister's family, she would be as well
taken care of, as if at her father's house, or at Wyllys-Roof. It
was an opportunity which might not occur again, and Mrs.
Hazlehurst wrote so urgently, that her parents consented to the
arrangement, provided Jane, herself, liked the idea. An old
friend of the family, Mrs. Howard, was to sail next month for
France, and would willingly take charge of Mrs. Graham's daughter
during the voyage: everything was settled, it only remained for
Jane, herself, to decide. She was far less anxious, however, to
see the wonders of Europe, than many other young persons would
have been. Elinor congratulated her warmly upon her good fortune,
and dwelt upon the pleasure she would, no doubt, enjoy; still,
Jane appeared rather indifferent to the plan, and it would
probably have been abandoned, had it not been for two
circumstances. Her father thought the voyage and change of air
might have a happy effect on her health, and improve it
permanently; and, at the same time, Miss Adeline Taylor threw the
whole weight of her influence into the scales; she had a long
private interview with Jane, which seemed to decide the matter.
The arrangements were made, and the first of September, Jane,
accompanied by her parents, Miss Agnes, and Elinor, went on board
the Havre packet, and was placed under the care of Mr. and Mrs.
Howard. Though the separation took place under such happy
auspices, there were some tears shed, of course. Elinor felt
quite sad at parting from her young friend, to whom she was
warmly attached; but time and tide soon separated the cousins,
and the last farewell, and waving of handkerchiefs, were
exchanged.

{"Havre packet" = scheduled passenger ship to Le Havre, the
principal Atlantic port of arrival in France}

Elinor had placed in Jane's hands a small package, and a letter,
for Harry. The last we do not think ourselves privileged to open;
but the little box we know to have contained a purse of her own
knitting, and a lock of hair, which was sent at the special
request of Harry, as he intended to have it placed in a ring by a
Paris jeweller. Jane's baggage contained, moreover, in addition
to her own paraphernalia, several articles that one would not
expect to find among a young lady's trunks and hat-boxes. She,
carried with her a barrel of buckwheat, a keg of cranberries, and
a couple of jars of ginger-dainties for which, it appeared, some
American friends of the Hazlehursts had sighed, even amid all the
delicacies of Paris.

In a few weeks, the family at Wyllys-Roof had the pleasure of
hearing of Jane's safe arrival in Paris. The good news came
through Harry, and we shall give his letter, since it was the
last Elinor received from him in some months.

"Place Vendome, October, 18--.

"MY DEAREST ELINOR:--

"You will be glad to hear that Jane passed the barriers, this
morning, with the Howards. She has just finished a letter to Mrs.
Graham; and, as she dislikes writing so much, has given me leave
to announce her arrival to all at Wyllys-Roof. As Jane enters
Paris on one side, I leave it in the opposite direction, for, the
day after to-morrow, I am off for Constantinople; a movement
which will, no doubt, astonish you, though, I am sure, you will
wish me joy of such pleasant prospects. This letter will probably
be the last you will hear of me, for some time; not but what I
shall write as usual, but these long overland mails, through
countries where they suspect revolution or plague, in every
letter, often fail to do their duty. In fact, I delayed my
journey a week or two, expressly to see Jane, and have a good
supply of Longbridge news before setting out. Everybody tells me,
I must expect to lose more than half my letters, both ways. This
is bad enough, to be sure; but a journey to Greece and
Constantinople, would be too full of delights, without some
serious drawback. I believe Jane is more tired by answering our
questions, and hearing what we have to tell her, than by her
voyage. I cannot help wishing, my dear Elinor, that it were you
who had arrived in Paris, instead of our pretty little cousin.
How I should delight in showing you my favourite view, the quais
and the island, from the Pont Royal--the Louvre, too, and the
Madeleine. As for Jane, she will, doubtless, find her chief
pleasures at Delilles', and the Tuileries--buying finery, and
showing it off: it has often puzzled me to find out which some
ladies most enjoy.

{"barriers" = gateways leading into Paris, where travellers'
papers were examined}

"We are to be a party of four of us, on our eastern expedition.
In the first place, Ellsworth, whom you may have seen; a very
clever fellow, and brother-in-law to poor Creighton. By-the-bye,
Mrs. Creighton is still here, and has been living, very quietly,
with her brother, since her husband's death; she is now going to
the Howards, who are her connexions, I believe; so says Louisa,
at least. Ellsworth, you know, poor fellow, lost his wife about a
year ago; he has left his little girl with her mother's friends,
and has come abroad for a year or two. Having been in Europe
before, he was very glad to make one, in our party to the East,
where he has not yet been. I mention him first, for he is the
most agreeable of our set. There is not much to be said on the
chapter of young Brown; and, I must confess, that I don't quite
agree with Col. Stryker, in the very good opinion he evidently
entertains of himself. By-the-bye, American Colonels are as
plenty, now-a-days, as the 'Marquis' used to be, at Versailles,
in the time of the Grand Louis. Some simple European folk,
actually believe that each of these gentry has his
regiment-----in the garrison of 'Nieu Yorck,' I suppose; it would
puzzle them, to find the army, if they were to cross the
Atlantic; I don't remember to have seen one of Uncle Sam's
soldiers for five years before I left home.

{"Grand Louis" = French King Louis XIV (1638-1715), known as
"Louis the Great"}

"Many thanks, dearest Elinor, for the contents of your box; you
cannot doubt but they will accompany your preux chevalier on his
pilgrimage. This Eastern movement has been such a sudden one,
that I have still a thousand things to do, which will oblige me
to make my letter shorter than I wish. Ellsworth is waiting for
me, at this moment. We expect to be gone six, or, possibly, eight
months. I shall write again from Marseilles; and, I hope, the
letter from thence will reach you. Pull Bruno's ears for me, and
don't let him forget his master; which will be one way, my dear,
kind, Elinor, of obliging you to remember that individual also.
Best respects to Mr. Wyllys and Aunt Agnes, with much love for
yourself, dearest Elinor, from

Your affectionate, present and FUTUR,

H. H.

P. S.--Many remembrances for Mrs. Stanley, if she is with you; I
wrote to her last month."

{"preux chevalier" = valiant knight; "FUTUR" = future (French)}



CHAPTER VII.

"What tidings send our scouts? I pr'ythee, speak."
Henry VI.

{William Shakespeare, "1 Henry VI", V.ii.10}

ABOUT the middle of the following March, the season, by courtesy
called spring, but when winter sometimes reigns de facto, in the
neighbourhood to which Wyllys-Roof belonged, Mr. Wyllys proposed,
one morning, to drive his granddaughter to Longbridge, with the
double object, of making the most of a late fall of snow, and
procuring the mail an hour earlier than usual.

The light cutter slipped through a track in which there was quite
as much mud as snow, and, it seemed, as if most people preferred
staying at home, to moving over roads in that half-and-half
condition: they met no one they knew, excepting Dr. Van Horne.

"I was sure you would be out this morning, Mr. Wyllys," cried the
Doctor, as they met, "your sleigh is always the first and the
last on the road."

"You generally keep me company, I find, doctor. I am going for
the mail. How far have you been, this morning?"

"To Longbridge, sir; but, with this sun, the snow will hardly
carry you there and home again; and yet, I dare say, you will
find something worth having, in the mail, for I saw letters in
your box; and there is a French packet in."

"Indeed! We'll make the best of our way, then, at once;" and,
wishing the doctor good morning, Mr. Wyllys drove off. "We shall
have letters from Paris, I hope, Nelly," said her grandfather.

"Certainly, I hope so," replied Elinor; "Jane's last letter was
shamefully short. I had half a mind not to answer it; and so I
told her; but my scolding has not had time to reach her yet."

"Jenny is no great letter-writer; and she is very busy enjoying
her year in Paris, I suppose. But I shall be glad to have a sight
of Harry's handwriting again. Where was it he wrote from last, in
December?"

"From Beyroot {sic}, sir. He was to be in Paris early in the
spring."

"Well, I hope we shall hear something from him to-day. Before
long, I suppose, we shall have the young gentleman at
Wyllys-Roof, trying to persuade you that he wants your help in
reading Blackstone. But, don't believe him, Nelly; I shan't give
you up for a year to come."

{"Blackstone" = Sir William Blackstone (1723-1780), British
jurist whose "Commentaries on the Laws of England" was the
principal text for aspiring young lawyers}

"There is time enough to think of all that," said Elinor,
blushing a little.

"Yes, time enough! and we can judge what sort of a lawyer he will
make, by the way in which he handles the subject. As it is a bad
cause, he ought to find a great deal to say on the occasion.
Suppose he manages the matter so well, as to bring your aunt and
myself over to his side, what would you say?"

"I can only say now, grandpapa, that I cannot bear to think of
the time when I shall have to leave Aunt Agnes and yourself,"
replied Elinor, with feeling. "Pray, don't let us talk about it
yet; I shall be very well satisfied with things as they are, for
a long time to come."

"Well, you may be satisfied to have Harry in Egypt; but I should
like to see him here, once in a while. When is it they are to be
home?"

"The last of the summer, sir. They sail in August, that Louisa
may see Mrs. Graham before she goes south."

"You have had a different sort of a winter, my child, from Harry
and Jane."

"It has been a pleasant winter to me, and to all three, I hope."

"Yes; Jenny has had all the gaiety--Harry all the adventure--and
you, all the sobriety. But it was your own wish, my dear, that
has kept us in the country, this winter."

The last six months had, indeed, passed very differently to the
young people. Jane had been dancing away her evenings on the
parquets of Paris; and dividing her mornings between walks to the
Tuileries, drives to the Bois de Boulogne, and visits to the
shops. As for the lessons which had, at one time, entered into
the plan, they had never been even commenced. Jane was too
indolent to take pleasure in anything of the kind; and her
companions, the daughters of Mrs. Howard, led her into so much
gaiety, that she really seemed to have little time for anything
else. Mrs. Robert Hazlehurst thought, indeed, that her sister was
quite too dissipated; still, Jane seemed to enjoy it so much, she
looked so well and happy, and Mrs. Howard was such an obliging
chaperon, that the same course was pursued, week after week;
although Mrs. Hazlehurst, herself, who had an infant a few weeks
old, seldom accompanied her.

Elinor, in the mean time, was passing the quietest of country
lives at Wyllys-Roof, where the family remained all winter. Even
the letters, which the previous year had given her so much
pleasure, had been wanting during the past season. Jane never
wrote oftener than was absolutely necessary; and only two of
Hurry's letters reached their destination. There was a package
from Europe, however, in the Longbridge Post-Office, on the
morning of the sleigh-drive we have alluded to. It contained a
long letter from Harry, written at Smyrna, announcing that he
hoped to be in Paris some time in March; and one from Mrs.
Hazlehurst, informing her friends of their plans for the
summer--including an excursion to Switzerland--after which they
were to return home late in August.

The very day Elinor received these letters, Harry returned to
Paris. After pitching his tent among Grecian ruins, and riding on
camels over the sands of Egypt and Syria, he had returned to
France through Turkey and Austria; thinking himself a very lucky
fellow to have seen so much of what the world contains, worth
seeing.

He found his brother entirely recovered, as well as he had been
before the accident which had injured him. He was called upon to
admire the little niece born during his absence; she was a sweet
little baby, and Mrs. Hazlehurst had named her Elinor, after her
future sister-in-law--a kind attention for which Harry was much
obliged to her, and which, he declared, would make the child a
favourite with him.

Jane was there, of course, and glad to see Harry, of course.
Hazlehurst had scarcely taken possession of a comfortable
fauteuil in his brother's drawing-room, before the thought
occurred to him, that all the party looked much as usual,
excepting Jane. During the first evening, he became convinced
that she was certainly altered by the air of Paris. How very much
she had improved in appearance and manner! He had never before
thought her so very beautiful as many others had done--but he
must now retract all he had ever said on the subject. He supposed
the good taste with which she was dressed must have some effect;
but it seemed as if her beauty were now in its perfection. When
he last saw her, there was something almost childish in her
appearance and expression, which she had now lost entirely. He
was struck with the air of finish about her whole person, from
the rich glossy lustre on her dark hair, to the pearly tint of
her complexion. She was, indeed, a beautiful creature. What a
sensation such a face must create among the enthusiastic
Parisians! Then, she must have more feeling than he had given her
credit for; she had received him quite kindly, and seemed really
glad to see him again.

{"fauteuil" = armchair (French)}

Daily observation, while living under the same roof, only
confirmed Harry in this new opinion of Jane. He began to admire
the languid grace of her movements; and he discovered that it is
very possible to have too much warmth of manner, and that some
women certainly fatigue one by their animation. He must tell the
family at Wyllys-Roof how much Jane had improved. He found he was
not mistaken in supposing that she must produce an impression
wherever she was seen. Whether they were walking in the Tuileries
of a morning, or went into society in the evening, the effect was
always the same; he saw her everywhere followed by very evident
and open admiration. And no wonder; her beauty threw a charm over
all her actions: it was even a pleasure to accompany her in
shopping excursions--which he used to look upon as the greatest
tax that a lady could impose upon his gallantry; but then, few
persons looked so beautiful as Jane, when selecting a muslin, or
trying on a hat. He soon became proud of a place at her side, and
much more vain of her beauty than she was herself.

"I must let them know at Longbridge," he thought, "what a
sensation Jane is making. She is, indeed, a beauty to be proud
of. I saw nothing like her in Greece. She does credit to the
country." Harry thought it patriotic to admire her, and to lose
no opportunity of enjoying the effect of her beauties among the
gay world of Paris. American patriotism, as we all know, often
takes singular shapes.

Jane and himself became more intimate, and on more friendly terms
than they had ever yet been. She seemed, indeed, to prefer him,
as a cavaliere servente, to any of her other admirers, American
or European. But that might easily be accounted for, on the score
of connexion. Of course, Harry was grateful for this preference,
and after a while he even began to look upon the excessive
devotion of one or two of her admirers, as impertinence on their
part.

{"cavaliere servente" = male escort (Italian)}

About this time--some weeks after his return--Hazlehurst gave
himself very much to the study of aesthetics. The beautiful, the
harmonious, alone attracted him; he could not endure anything
approaching to coarseness. He wandered up and down the galleries
of the Louvre, delighting more in the beautiful faces of the
Italian masters, in the Nymphs and Muses of the old Greeks, than
he had ever done before. He became quite a connoisseur. He had no
taste for the merely pretty; perfect beauty he admired with his
whole soul, but anything short of it was only to be tolerated. He
felt the fact, if he did not reason on the discovery, that beauty
in the very highest degree, carries with it--we do not say the
expression--but the stamp of dignity, and even of intelligence.
Such was the impression produced by Jane's perfectly classical
head and features. It was impossible, as you gazed upon her
smooth polished forehead, and noble dark eyes, to believe her
wanting in character, or intellect. Then, Harry remembered that
talent of the highest order bears a calm aspect; not frothy,
sparkling cleverness, which takes so well with the vulgar; not
wit, exactly; but that result of a well-balanced mind, in which
all the faculties harmonize so well, that they leave no one
particularly prominent. He had been much struck, lately, with
several remarks of Jane's--they showed a depth of observation, a
fund of good sense, which he had not formerly supposed her to
possess; but then, of old, he used to be unpardonably unjust to
Jane. She was certainly improved, too; her friends at Longbridge
would be gratified by the change.

This course of aesthetics gradually carried Harry so far, that
after a profound study of the subject in general, and of Jane's
features in particular, he became a convert to the opinion of the
German philosopher, who affirms that "The Beautiful is greater
than the Good." There have been disputes, we believe, on the
subject of this axiom, some critics giving it a deep mystical
sense, others, again, attempting to explain it in different ways.
Our friend Hazlehurst, though a pretty good German scholar,
seemed disposed to adopt the idea in its simplest interpretation.

{"German philosopher" = I have been unable to identify with
certainty the quotation, though the sentiment suggests Friedrich
Wilhelm Joseph von Schelling (1775-1854)}

Things were in this train, when the family set out for
Switzerland.



CHAPTER VI {sic}

{should be Chapter VIII}

"Her dress, and novels, visits, and success."
CRABBE.

{George Crabbe (English poet, 1754-1832), "Posthumous Tales: XV
Belinda Waters" line II.31}

LONGBRIDGE was quite a pleasant village, and surrounded by a
pretty country. Like most other American rural towns, it
received, in the warmest months, a large accession to its
population; for it seems to be a matter of course, that everybody
who is able to do so, runs away from brick walls in the months of
July and August, and selects some village in which to rusticate,
and set the fashions, enjoy the dust and the fire-flies, fresh
peaches, and home-made ice-cream.--Longbridge, in addition to the
usual advantages of pure air, and brown fields, in the month of
August, had something of a reputation as a place for bathing; and
its three taverns, and various boarding-houses, were generally
well filled with families from New York and Philadelphia, during
the very warm weather.

Among others, during the season to which we allude, the Grahams
were there, anxiously awaiting the arrival of the Hazlehurst
party from Europe; for letters had been received, informing their
friends that they might be expected at any moment. The Wyllys
carriage was now seen at Longbridge every day, either at the
house where their relatives, the Grahams, had taken lodgings for
the season, or before the door of a neat little cottage, recently
purchased by Mr. Wyllys for the widow of his youngest son, Mrs.
George Wyllys. This lady, to whom the reader has been already
introduced, had been left, with four children, almost entirely
dependent on her father-in-law. Her character was somewhat of a
medley. She was a good-hearted woman, attached to her husband's
family, and always asking advice of her friends, particularly Mr.
Wyllys, and Miss Agnes, for whom she had a sincere respect. She
was pretty, lady-like, rather clever, and a pleasant companion to
persons not particularly interested in her welfare. On
indifferent topics she could converse with as much good sense as
the rest of the world; but her own affairs she mismanaged
terribly. All her other good qualities seemed unsettled by a
certain infusion of caprice, and jealousy of influence; and yet
she really meant well, and fancied herself a very prudent woman.
She thought she was capable of making any sacrifice for those she
loved, and therefore believed herself a model in all the
relations of life. As a mother, she had a system of education,
the theory of which was excellent; but there was little
consistency in its practice. As regards money-matters, she talked
and thought so much about economy, that she took it for granted
that she practised it. After having passed the first years of her
widowhood with her own family in Baltimore, she had lately become
convinced that her income was not sufficient to allow her living
in a large town, without running in debt. Mr. Wyllys was
unfortunately too well aware that his daughter-in-law's
difficulties were not the result of Baltimore prices, but of her
own mismanagement. Franklin advises his friends to "take care of
the pence, and the pounds will take care of themselves:" but this
rule is by no means infallible. Perhaps there is no species of
extravagance more common, than that often practised by
well-disposed people, which consists of being "penny-wise,
pound-foolish;" they will save a hundred cents on as many
different occasions, and throw away twenty dollars on one object.
It happens that such persons often succeed in persuading
themselves that they are models of prudence, and self-denial.
Such was Mrs. George Wyllys's plan; and, unfortunately, she not
only brought trouble on herself, but was a constant source of
anxiety to her father-in-law, who endeavoured, in vain, to
counteract the evil; but every succeeding year brought a
repetition of the difficulties of the former.

{"Franklin" = Benjamin Franklin (1706-1790), but the expression
is usually attributed to Lord Chesterfield (1674-1773); "penny
wise, pound foolish" = phrase originated by Robert Burton
(1577-1640)}

At present, Mrs. Wyllys was bent upon economy in a cottage, with
new furniture, purchased at a high price, at New York auctions;
and it was in vain to oppose her plan, so convinced was she, that
duty alone could have induced her to leave her own family and old
friends in Baltimore.

"We must make the best of it, Agnes," said Mr. Wyllys, "it will
be pleasant, at least, to have Harriet and her little people near
us--and we may be of use to the children."

Miss Agnes agreed to the first part of her father's remark, but
was far from feeling sanguine as to their being of any advantage
to the children. It was a part of Mrs. Wyllys's system, to
consult her friends far more frequently than was necessary, upon
the education of her family, at the same time that it also
entered into her plan to follow their advice very seldom indeed.

As for Elinor, she was very well pleased with her aunt's arrival
in the neighbourhood; of course, she was too young and
inexperienced to know the exact state of matters, and she was
attached to Mrs. Wyllys, and fond of her little cousins.

One afternoon, Mrs. Wyllys had persuaded Miss Agnes and Elinor to
drink tea with her, and not return home until the evening. The
ladies were sitting together, in Mrs. Wyllys's pleasant little
parlour, engaged with their needles, while the children were
playing under the windows, in the shady door-yard.

"Shall I put the bow on the right or left side, Elinor?" asked
Mrs. Wyllys, who was re-trimming a hat for one of her little
girls.

"It looks very well as you have it now, Aunt;" replied her niece.

"Perhaps it does; there is a stain, however, on the other side,
which must be covered," replied the lady, changing the bow. "This
riband was very cheap, Agnes," she added, showing it to her
sister-in-law. "Only twenty cents a yard. I bought the whole
piece, although I shall not want it until next spring."

"Quite cheap," said Miss Agnes, looking at the riband; "but I
don't know what you will do with so much of it."

"Oh, I shall find some use for it; in a large family, nothing
comes amiss."

A pretty, little girl, about eight years old, ran into the room,
and, skipping up to her mother, whispered, "Here comes a
carriage, mamma, and some ladies."

"Who is it, Elinor?" asked Mrs. Wyllys, of her niece, who was
sitting near the window.

"The Hubbards," she replied.

"What, Patsey Hubbard?"

"Oh, no; her cousins--very different persons. The Longbridge
Hubbards, whose acquaintance you have not yet made."

Two ladies, radiant with elegance, entered the room, and were
introduced, by Miss Agnes, to her sister-in-law, as Mrs. Hilson,
and Miss Emmeline Hubbard. They were both young; quite pretty;
very fashionably dressed; very silly in their expressions, and
much alike, in every respect.

After a few preliminary speeches, Mrs. Hilson remarked, that she
was very glad Mrs. Wyllys had come to join their rustic circle.

"Thank you," replied the lady; "Longbridge is a favourite place
of mine; but I have not yet seen many traces of rusticity, here."

"Why, no, Julianna," observed Miss Emmeline, "I don't think our
village is at all a rustic place. We have too many advantages of
communication with the city for that."

"It is true," said Mrs. Hilson, "Longbridge has always been a
very aristocratic place. You know, Miss Wyllys," turning to Miss
Agnes, "we have our 'West-End,' and our 'exclusives.'"

{"West End" = from the fashionable West End of London}

"I was not aware of it; but then I am really a rustic," Miss
Wyllys added, smiling.

"Yes, it is unfortunate, you should be so far from the village.
Emmeline and I often pity you, Miss Elinor, for being so far from
genteel society."

"That is scarcely worth while, I assure you, for we have several
pleasant families, within a short distance."

"But only a very small circle, however. Now we have quite a large
set of aristocratic people, in the village. Some of our
inhabitants are very refined, I assure you, Mrs. Wyllys."

The lady bowed.

"You will find your two next neighbours, Mrs. Bibbs and Mrs.
Tibbs, very fascinating ladies," observed Miss Emmeline. "Mrs.
Bibbs is one of our beauties; and Mrs. Tibbs, our most elegant
dresser."

"Emmeline is going over the Court Calendar, for you, already,"
said Mrs. Hilson, laughing fashionably.

{"Court Calendar" = from the section of British newspapers
devoted to the schedule and appearances of the Royal Family}

"Are these ladies the wives of judges?" inquired Mrs. Wyllys.

"Oh, no; Mrs. Tibbs is the lady of our physician, and Mrs. Bibbs
is a 'marchande,'--she is a very fascinating lady, and has a fine
flow of conversation. She was a great belle, at Saratoga, a year
or two since; you may, perhaps, have met her there?" inquired
Mrs. Hilson.

"Not that I know of; but I have not been at Saratoga for years."

"Is it possible? I cannot live without three weeks at Saratoga,
and a fortnight at Rockaway, every year. Before I ordered my
wedding-dress, I made Mr. Hilson promise I should have my own way
about that. I said to him, one day, 'Alonzo, before the
settlements are drawn up, I shall require you to pledge yourself
to six weeks, every year, between Saratoga and Rockaway.'"

{"settlements" = marriage settlements or pre-nuptial agreements;
"Rockaway" = a fashionable sea-side resort on Long Island, near
New York City}

"You are fond of a gay life, I suppose."

"Very naturally; having lived in the world of fashion from my
cradle, I do not think I could breathe any other atmosphere. It
must be a great change for you, Mrs. Wyllys, from all the
pleasures of a city-life to a small circle like ours."

"A change, certainly; but a pleasant one, I hope."

"It will be a relief to you, to find so much aristocracy among
us. We have a certain clique, that, I think, must satisfy the
most refined taste, and will console you, I hope, for the loss of
genteel society in Baltimore."

"Thank you. I shall scarcely miss any but my friends. I go out
very little."

"I regret to hear that.--We must try to persuade you to change
your determination, and mingle more with society. I feel
confident, that our West-End clique must satisfy the most refined
taste. We expect to have a great deal of gaiety, this fall; but,
just at present, we have a scarcity of beaux."

"What has become of young Mr. Taylor; he was to have been home by
this time. Do you hear anything of him, Miss Wyllys?" inquired
Miss Emmeline.

"His family expect him soon, I believe."

"I hope he will arrive before our summer parties are over. Mr.
and Mrs. Hazlehurst, too, and Miss Graham, when shall we have the
pleasure of seeing them?"

"We expect them every day."

"I hope," said Mrs. Hilson, "they will arrive while I am here,
which will be longer than usual, this season, for they are
painting our suit {sic} of apartments in the city. When I came,
Alonzo told Emmeline to keep me until October, and she has
promised me a round of entertainments, while I am with her; so
that I feel particularly interested in the arrival of your
friends."

"Miss Graham will dash a great deal, no doubt, when she comes
back," said Miss Emmeline; "I quite long to see her. Miss Taylor
must be expecting her impatiently. By-the-bye, I understand, Mr.
Taylor's new furniture is now all arrived. His villa, as well as
his city-house, will be very stylish."

"Mr. Taylor is a very tasty gentleman," observed Mrs. Hilson. "He
seems to be very talented, in every way; formed to figure in
fashionable life, as well as in business. His new house is a
magnificent edifice."

"Your father tells me, he has quite finished his own house, Mrs.
Hilson; you must be glad to get rid of the workmen," remarked
Miss Wyllys.

"Yes--they have been long enough about it; but Pa has
old-fashioned notions about having everything substantial, and
well done; he said Emmeline and I might choose the plan, and have
everything as we liked; but he must have his own time to do it
in. However, it is a delightful mansion, now. It has every
convenience of the most fashionable houses in the city;
plate-glass, and folding-doors, and marble chimneys to the
garret. Just such a house as I should like in New York; though,
to tell the truth, I would not keep house for the world."

"Julianna is so delightfully situated, in her boarding-house,
Mrs. Wyllys, that she has nothing to wish for."

{"boarding-house" = at this period in American history, many
respectable and reasonably well-off people and even families
lived permanently in boarding-houses, rather than maintain a
houseful of servants}

"Yes, we have every luxury of fashionable life, united to a very
aristocratic set of boarders; and Mrs. Stone, herself, is an
extremely fascinating lady. Indeed, I have been spoilt; I don't
think I could endure the drudgery of housekeeping, now; though I
once told Alonzo, if he would give me a four-story house, up
town, with a marble front, I would try."

"You must find the situation of your father's new house
pleasanter than that he has left," observed Miss Agnes.

"By no means.--That is a serious objection to our new mansion.
Standing surrounded by the park, on three sides, removes us so
far from the street."

"I should have thought you would find it pleasant to be removed
farther from the noise and dust. What is your cousin Charles
doing? I suppose you see him often, in town."

"I really do not know what has become of him," said Mrs. Hilson,
languidly; for she always felt rather mortified by any allusion
to her unfashionable relations. "Though Charles is in the city
now, studying painting, yet I never see him. He told Mr. Hilson
that he called sometimes, but I have never seen his card; in a
large boarding-house like ours, with a family of forty or fifty
people, there is often great confusion about visits. But,
Emmeline, we are making a very unfashionable call. I am quite
ashamed, Mrs. Wyllys: but we will relieve you now--I see our
carriage has returned." And after an exchange of curtsies, the
ladies glided out of the room. Miss Emmeline, as she passed,
touched the curly head of one of the children, exclaiming as she
did so, "fascinating cherub!" and then both vanished.

We have said that these two sisters were very much alike. Mrs.
Hilson, however, was the most distinguished of the two, for she
carried the family follies several degrees farther than Miss
Emmeline. Taken altogether, she was an absurd compound.
Personally, she was thoroughly American, very pretty and delicate
in form and features, and thus far appeared to great advantage;
but she had, also, an affected mincing manner, and drawling
voice. Of course, her dress was as Parisian as possible;
everything she wore was a faithful copy from "Le Courier des
Dames." Her feelings and opinions; Mrs. Hilson was proud to call
English in the extreme, for she had chosen to imbibe a great love
of "aristocracy," and many other things which she did not in the
least understand. She had a set of common-place phrases of this
description in constant use, having borrowed them from an
intimate friend, living in the same boarding-house, a Mrs.
Bagman, an Englishwoman, of a very equivocal position. Then, she
read nothing but English novels; these were her only source of
amusement and instruction in the way of books; and as she
followed the example of Mrs. Bagman, in rejecting every tale that
had not its due share of lords and ladies, she called herself
fastidious in the selection. She was a great talker, and not a
day passed but what cockney sentiments fell from her pretty
little mouth, in drawling tones, from under a fanciful Parisian
coiffure. John Bull would have stared, however, if called upon to
acknowledge her as a daughter; for Yankee vulgarity and English
vulgarity are very different in character--the first having the
most pretension, the last the most coarseness.

These ladies had scarcely driven from the door, before Mrs.
Wyllys exclaimed: "Is it possible, Agnes, that these Hubbards are
a good specimen of the Longbridge people!"

"No, indeed; one such family is quite enough for any place."

"How ridiculous they are! How can you tolerate them?"

"Now, pray, Aunt Agnes," said Elinor, "do not say one word in
their favour."

"No; as regards the ladies of the family, one can say little.
They are not perhaps, by nature, as ridiculous as they have made
themselves. Time may do something for them. But their father is a
very worthy, respectable man; you must have seen him at our house
last summer. Don't you remember one day two uncles of Patsey
Hubbard dining with us?"

"Yes, I do remember them; one Charles Hubbard called Uncle Josey
{sic}, and he seemed quite a sensible man; the other fell asleep
I know, the one they called Uncle Dozie."

"The napping uncle is the old bachelor; Uncle Josie is the father
of these ladies."

"He seemed a sensible man; how came he to have such daughters?"

"They are very like their mother, who died a year or two since."

"They are very disagreeable, certainly. How often shall we be
required to encounter this desperate elegance? I almost begin to
repent having fixed myself at Longbridge."

"And between Mrs. Bibbs, and Mrs. Tibbs, too!" said Elinor,
laughing. "However, for your consolation, Aunt, I can assure you
these two ladies are far from being so very 'fascinating' as the
Hubbards. Mrs. Hilson and her sister rise high above the rest of
us in that respect--they are, decidedly, 'our Corinthian
capital.'"

"You will find the Van Hornes, the Bernards, and several other
families, very pleasant neighbours, on farther acquaintance,"
said Miss Agnes. "You have really been unfortunate in this
specimen."

"And where did these ladies contrive to pick up so much
absurdity?"

"With a miserable education to begin with, no other reading than
the worst novels, and the chance association of second-rate
boarding-houses, that point, I think, is easily accounted for,"
said Miss Agnes.

The conversation was interrupted by the hurried return of Mr.
Wyllys, who held a newspaper in his hand.

"They have arrived!" cried Elinor, springing from her chair, as
she saw her grandfather enter the gate.

"Good news!" said Mr. Wyllys, as he joined the ladies. "The Erie
is in, and our friends with her! They must have arrived in the
night, and to-morrow morning we shall have them here."

Of course, all the family were gratified by the good news. Elinor
was quite agitated, though her aunt had the pleasure of seeing
her look very happy.

"Here it is," said Mr. Wyllys, reading from the paper the arrival
of "'the Packet Ship Erie, Capt. Funck, from Havre, consigned to
----- ----- & Co.;' that you won't care about. But here is the
list of passengers: 'Mr. Johnson, Mrs. Johnson, and a dozen
Masters and Misses Johnson, from Natchez;'--strangers, you will
say, but here are acquaintances: 'Mrs. Creighton, Mr. Francis
Ellsworth, and servant, of Phil.; Mr. and Mrs. Robert Hazleworth,
and family, of Phil.; Miss Graham, of Phil.; Madame Gigot, of
Paris:' wait a moment, Nelly, all in good time. 'Capt. Flint, of
British Army; Achille Bureau, of Paris; T. Davis, of Charleston;
Dr. Brackett, of St. Louis;' and, though last, not least in our
estimation, W. Hazleworth, of Phil.; with seventy-nine in the
steerage.' Of course, for W. Hazleworth, read H. Hazlehurst; they
never spell a name right. We shall have them all here to-morrow I
hope, Nelly."

If Elinor said little, she thought and felt a great deal.

They were still talking over the arrival, when Mrs. Wyllys's
little girl came skipping in, again, and said; "Here comes a
gentleman, mamma." She was followed in an instant, by a young
man, who, in a hurried, eager manner, had kissed the hand of Miss
Agnes, and Elinor's cheek, before either had time to exclaim
"Harry!"

It was, in fact, Hazlehurst, still in his travelling-cap. They
had arrived in the night, he said, and the rest of the party was
to follow him the next day.



CHAPTER IX.

"How taught shall I return?"
CRABBE.

{George Crabbe (English poet, 1754-1832), "Posthumous Tales: VI
The Farewell and Return" line I.62}

OF course, Harry was established at Wyllys-Roof. And, after a few
days passed with her parents at Longbridge, Elinor persuaded Jane
to pay her a short visit.

It is a pleasant moment for people of mature years, when they can
sit idly by, as affectionate observers, while a gay party of
young people, in whom they are interested, are chatting
familiarly together, with the lively tone and light spirits of
youth, free alike from the restraints of childhood, and the cares
of middle age. Every varied shade of character, unconsciously
betrayed by the young group--the playful remark--the just
observation--the pleasing acquirement--an act of good-nature--a
graceful motion--the bright eye and the careless smile--ay, even
the proof of inexperience and want of worldly wisdom--all is
attractive to the partial friends. They feel such a moment to be
the reward of many a previous hour of care and anxiety; it is
their happy privilege to mark each improvement in person, mind
and heart--the fruit of past labours and prayers--the cheering
promise amid the doubts of the future. Happy they, who can look
upon the young people committed to their charge, with the
consciousness that no important duty towards them has been
neglected; happy the young person, who, with a clear conscience
and an open countenance, can meet the approving smile of a
parent; thrice happy the youth, who, having taken a false step at
the beginning of his career, has had the courage and wisdom to
turn, ere too late; that precious approbation of wise and true
friends, may still be fully his; he has turned from danger,
temptation and shame, into the sure and safe path that leads to
everything most to be valued, even in this world.

As for our friends at Wyllys-Roof, the joy of re-union, after a
long absence, gave additional zest to the first pleasant meetings
of the young people, in whom Miss Agnes and Mr. Wyllys were so
warmly interested. Elinor was in gay spirits--even Jane was more
animated than usual, in her expressions and manners. As for
Harry, he was decidedly improved; the last two years had done a
great deal for him. He was now a clever, well-educated, agreeable
young man of three-and-twenty, whose judgment and taste were much
improved by travelling.

"A very good-looking fellow, too, Agnes," remarked Mr. Wyllys.

It was easy to gather, from the natural, healthful tone of his
conversation, that in more important points, while he had gained
much, he had lost nothing by wider observation of the world.

As for Jane, Miss Agnes had not expected much from her, and she
was pleased with the changes she observed. Her young kinswoman's
temper seemed to have become more even than formerly, and she was
quite as much pleased to return to her family, as she ought to
have been. It appeared natural, that everybody who saw Jane
should be satisfied with looking at her. Beauty like hers
disarmed their attempts at severity, and disposed them to
indulgence. It seemed scarcely reasonable to expect any striking
quality, or great virtue, with beauty so rare. But if the
Wyllyses had thought her beautiful before she left them, they
were really astonished to find how much it had been possible for
her to gain in appearance. Her face was now perfectly lovely, in
the finest style of beauty. Miss Wyllys was pleased to find her
manners much improved; a change from the society of Adeline
Taylor, and her lively young friends, to that of older and
better-bred people, had been of great advantage. Jane's labours
of liveliness had annoyed Miss Agnes not a little; and more than
once she had ventured a remark on the subject; but her young
relative had been too well advised, by Adeline and her
school-companions, to believe that Miss Wyllys could possibly
know, as well as themselves, what were the fashionable airs and
graces of the day. Since her visit to Paris, however, Jane's
manner, without her being aware of it herself, had become much
more quiet and natural. During the last twelvemonth, she had not
found it necessary to make perpetual exertions to attract, or
retain admirers. She had learned to look upon the attentions of
society as a matter of course.

The observations of Mr. Wyllys and his daughter were not all
confined to the two young travellers; they watched the graceful
movements of Elinor, and listened with interest to the gay
remarks made in her pleasant voice. She had never been in better
spirits, and was evidently happy. Elinor was really attached to
Jane; and yet, never were two girls less alike, not only in
person, but in mind and disposition. Jane's beauty was a great
charm, in Elinor's eyes. The homeliness of her own features only
increased her admiration for those of her cousin, who had always
filled, with her, the place of a younger sister and pet, although
the difference in their ages was very trifling. If these feelings
were not returned as warmly as they deserved, Elinor had never
seemed to expect that they should be; it was not in Jane's nature
to do so. That Harry's arrival should have made her happy, was,
of course, only natural; she betrayed, at times, a touch of
embarrassment towards him, when Aunt Agnes had smiled too openly,
or Mr. Wyllys had rallied too strongly; but it was graceful, like
every shade in her manner.

Miss Agnes was well aware that the last two years had not been
lost with Elinor, although passed in quiet every-day life. She
knew, from close observation, that the character of her adopted
child had been gradually approaching nearer to all she wished it
to be. As the two young girls sat chatting together, Miss Wyllys
could not but mark the striking difference in their appearance;
but she also felt that if Jane's loveliness were a charm, even to
her, knowing Elinor thoroughly, she loved her far more deeply for
the want of beauty. But, of course, the world would have decided
differently.

The morning after Jane's arrival at Wyllys-Roof, the young people
were engaged in one of the gay conversations we have alluded to,
when Mr. Wyllys called off Hazlehurst's attention.

"Harry, what was that clumsy contrivance about the French horses,
you were describing to Van Horne, last night? I wanted to ask
you, at the time, but you began to talk with Miss Patsey. You
said something about a wooden collar, I think."

Harry changed his seat, for one nearer Mr. Wyllys, and began a
long explanation of the harness used by the French teamsters.

"I have several engravings in my trunks, that will show you my
meaning, sir, better than words can do."

"I should like to see them. But, are these wooden wings to the
collars, as you describe them, used throughout France, or only in
Normandy, and the neighbourhood of Paris?"

"We saw them wherever we went. All the carters and farmers seem
to use them. They have, besides, a great deal of clumsy, useless
ornament, and they contrive to want twice as much tackle as we
do."

The gentlemen continued to discuss the subject of horses and
harness, Harry relating, for Mr. Wyllys's amusement, many
observations he had made, on these matters, in the different
countries where he had been.

Jane had brought down, from her room, an arm-full of pretty
things, evidently Parisian. She had just given Elinor a very
pretty bag, which Miss Agnes was called upon to admire.

"My dear Aunt," cried Elinor, "do look at this; Jane, I think we
must call it a sac--'bag' sounds too heavy. Look at the
material--the finest cachemere. And then the colour, so rich and
so delicate at the same time."

"Yes; it is a very pretty shade of ponceau," said Jane.

{"ponceau" = poppy red (French)}

"And then the shape! so Parisian! And the ornaments--"

"It is very pretty," said Miss Wyllys, after due examination.

"That is the way with everything that comes from Paris," said
Elinor; "it is always so complete; not one part good and others
clumsy--or good in quality, but ugly in form and colour. The
French seem to have an instinct about these things; they throw a
grace about everything."

"Yes; they have a perfect taste," said Jane.

"While I was up-stairs, with Louisa, yesterday," said Elinor, "we
talked over Paris all the morning, Aunt Agnes. I was amused with
a great deal she told me. Louisa says, there is a fitness in all
that a French-woman does and says, and even in everything she
wears--that her dress is always consistent--always appropriate to
the occasion."

"That is true," replied Jane; "their dress is always of a piece."

"And yet, Louisa insists upon it, that they do not bestow more
time and thought upon the subject, than the women of other
countries--and, certainly, not so much money."

"Everything is so easy to be had, and so much cheaper, in Paris,"
said Jane.

"But, she remarked, that they are never ashamed to wear a pretty
thing merely because it is cheap; nor to make themselves
comfortable, by wearing thick shoes in the mud, and a coarse,
warm shawl in a fog."

"We have not much mud or fog to trouble us, in this country;"
said Miss Agnes.

"No, aunt; but we have hard showers in summer, and cold weather
in winter; in spite of which, you know, our ladies must always be
dressed like fairies."

"I have often heard Madame de Bessieres praise the good sense of
her countrywomen, on those subjects," observed Miss Wyllys.

"Louisa maintains that the French-women have a great deal of
common sense; she says, that is the foundation of their good
taste; and, I suppose, after all, good taste is only good sense
refined."

"I suppose it is, my dear. Louisa seems to have come back even
more of a French-woman than you, Jane," observed Miss Agnes.

"Oh! I like the French very well, Aunt Agnes."

"But Louisa is quite eloquent on the subject."

"She was so very fortunate, Aunt, in having so kind a friend in
Paris, as Madame de Bessieres. Louisa describes the de Bessieres
as living in a delightful set of people--she mentioned half a
dozen persons whom she met habitually there, as not only amiable,
and highly accomplished, and well-bred, but high-principled, too.
She says she used often to wish you could know them, Aunt Agnes."

"I can readily believe anything good of the intimate friends of
Madame de Bessieres, for I never knew a woman whose character was
more worthy of respect. It was a great loss to us, when she
returned to France. She was very fond of you, Elinor."

"How kind in a person of Madame de Bessieres' age, to remember
me! I long to see the letter she wrote me; Robert says I shall
have it, certainly, to-morrow, when all their baggage will be at
Longbridge."

"Madame de Bessieres often spoke of you, Elinor," said Jane. "She
bid me ask if you remembered all the pet names she used to call
you, but I forgot to mention it when I wrote."

"Just as you forget many other things, naughty girl; I must say
you are anything but a model correspondent, Jenny, dear."

"Well, I can't help it--I do dislike so to write!"

"You need not tell me that," said Elinor, laughing. "But I do
remember all Madame de Bessieres' kind names very well. It was
sometimes, mon lapin, mon lapin dore, mon chou, ma mere--they all
sounded pleasantly to me, she spoke them so kindly. But sometimes
to vex me, the other children--Master Harry among others--used to
translate them; and, though rabbit, and golden rabbit, sounded
very well in English, I did not care to be called cabbage."

{"mon lapin" = my rabbit; "mon chou" = my cabbage, a term of
endearment; "dore" = golden; "ma mere" = my mother (French)}

"Did you like the young people you met in Paris, Jane?" asked
Miss Wyllys.

"Oh, yes; the young men don't trouble you to entertain them, and
the girls are very good-natured and pleasant."

"Louisa seems to think the French girls are charming--so
graceful, and pleasing, and modest; really accomplished, and well
educated, too, she says--all that young women ought to be."

"Yes, she says that she hopes her little girls will be as well
educated as Madame de Bessieres' grand-daughters," said Jane.

"Well, I hope my little namesake may answer her mother's
expectations. She is a sweet little puss now, at any rate. Louisa
was quite vexed yesterday, with Mrs. Van Horne, who asked her if
the French girls were not all artful, and hypocritical. She
answered her, that, on the contrary, those she saw the most
frequently, were modest, ingenuous, and thoroughly
well-principled in every way, besides being very accomplished.
She laid great stress on one point, the respect invariably paid
by the young to the old, not only among the women, but the men,
too."

"Yes," observed Miss Agnes; "I remember to have heard the same
remark from Madame de Bessieres; she observed, that after having
been in many different countries, she could justly claim for her
own, that in no other was so much deference paid to age as in
France."

"That agrees precisely with Louisa's opinion. She says it is a
striking feature in French society, and appears thoroughly part
of their character--not at all assumed for appearance sake."

"It is a duty too little remembered in this country. It seems to
be only in our very best families that the subject is properly
attended to," said Miss Agnes.

"Louisa likes the manners of the men for the same reason; she
says that in society they are always respectful and obliging,
whatever other agreeable or disagreeable qualities they may have.
She remarked, that she had never met with a rude Frenchman in
society; but she had, repeatedly, met with rude Englishmen, in
very good company."

"What fault, pray, did Louisa find with the Englishmen you met,
Jane?" asked Miss Agnes.

"There is a certain set, who say and do rude things."

"I should not have thought that;" said Miss Wyllys.

"Oh, they have a way of making themselves disagreeable; now, a
Frenchman never tries to be disagreeable."

"One would think no one would try that," said Elinor.

"The English do, though, I assure you; at least a certain set. I
don't believe any other people do. I remember one evening, Harry
was very angry with a certain Mr. Ellery, son of Lord Greystone,
who used to come to our house quite often last spring. Do you
remember him, Harry?" she added, as Hazlehurst again approached
the table covered with French knicknacks {sic}, where the girls
were sitting.

"Whom were you talking about?" he asked.

"Mr. Ellery;--do you remember his manner?"

"Ellery?--To be sure I do!--Insufferable coxcomb!"

"Pray, what was his great offence?" asked Elinor, laughing.

Harry coloured violently. "Oh, it was his intolerable English
manner. I have known him stretch himself out nearly full length
on a sofa, on which Jane or Louisa was sitting, and stare at
them, with the most sickening expression, for half an hour at a
time."

"Half an hour, Harry! how can you talk so? Half a minute, you
mean."

"Well, until he drove you away, at any rate. I was often
surprised that you could endure it as long as you did. But
happily, Louisa cooled him off after a while; though I had a
strong inclination to undertake the job myself."

"It was much better as it was; it was Louisa's place to do it,"
observed Miss Agnes.

"But I thought you liked the English," said Elinor, with some
surprise. "You were speaking very highly of several of your
English friends, last night."

"I do like the better sort very much. They are fine, manly
fellows, as ever breathed."

"What people did you like best?" asked Miss Agnes.

"A man who does not cherish prejudice, must naturally like the
best qualities and the best individuals of all nations."

"But have you no preference?"

"There cannot be a doubt, that society is more agreeable in
France, in Paris, than elsewhere."

"Are not the French too artificial?"

"I honestly do not think them more so than the English. English
simplicity often has a very artificial twist; with the French it
is just the reverse; art becomes a second-nature, with them."

"We hear the French accused of selfishness--"

"I think you would find both French and English more selfish than
we are. But they have different ways of showing it. The
Englishman is exclusive, and reserved; the Frenchman egotistical.
Reserve may seem dignified; but it often covers a great deal of
cold self-love; while French egotism--not EGOISME--is often
mingled with much naivete and bonhommie {sic}. Both nations,
however, are more selfish than the Italians, or Germans, I should
say."

"Still, you seem to like the French the best of the two."

"Well, the French generally treat Americans more civilly than the
English. John Bull is very fond of giving himself airs of
superiority, after a disagreeable fashion of his own. Now a
Frenchman fancies himself so much more civilized than the rest of
the world, that he has a good-natured feeling towards everybody
but John Bull: he thinks he can afford to be amiable and
friendly."

"If you are speaking of the best people in each country,
however," said Mr. Wyllys; "that is not the surest way of judging
national character. We must take the average."

"I am aware of that, sir."

"At any rate, you don't seem to have liked this Mr. Ellery," said
Elinor.

"Not in the least; I used to think him excessively impertinent,"
exclaimed Harry, and as his choler rose, while certain
recollections passed through his mind, he coloured again. To
change the subject, he took up the bag the young ladies had been
admiring.

"What fanciful name may belong to this piece of finery; for, of
course, it is not a bag?" he asked.

"Oh, it is too useful, not to have a straight-forward, common
name; you may call it a sac, though, if you like. I could not
think of anything more imaginative; can you, Jane?"

"I dare say, there is another name; but I have forgotten it;
everything has a name of its own, in Paris."

"Your table looks like a fancy-shop, Aunt Agnes," continued
Hazlehurst; "gloves, bags, purses, boxes, muslins, portfolios,
and twenty other things, jumbled together."

"What sort of wood is the work-box that you chose for Miss
Patsey?" asked Elinor. "I am very glad you thought of her."

"Harry does not seem to have forgotten any of his friends, while
in Paris," said Miss Agnes.

Hazlehurst looked down.

"It is some dark wood; not rose-wood, however. It is rather
plain; but a serviceable-looking box," he said.

"Just the thing for Miss Patsey," observed Elinor.

"Here, Elinor," said Jane, "is the cape I spoke of;" and she
unfolded a paper, and drew from it a piece of muslin which had
evidently received a very pretty shape, fine embroidery, and
tasteful bows of riband from some Parisian hand. "This is the one
I spoke of.--Is it not much prettier than any you have seen?"

Elinor received the cape from her cousin, who was unusually
animated in its praises; it was held up to the light; then laid
on the table; the delicacy of the work was admired; then the
form, and the ribands; and, at last, Elinor threw it over Jane's
shoulders, observing, at the same time, that it was particularly
becoming to her. Harry seemed determined not to look; and, in
order to resist any inclination he may have felt, to do so, he
resolutely took up a Review, and began turning over its pages.
The young ladies' admiration of the cape lasted several minutes,
and, at length, Elinor called upon the rest of the party to
admire how becoming it was.

"Well, really," exclaimed Harry, looking rather cross, probably
at being disturbed in his reading, "young ladies' love of finery
seems quite inexhaustible; it is sometimes incomprehensible to
the duller perceptions of the male sex."

"Don't be saucy!" said Elinor.

"Why, you can't deny the fact, that you and Jane have been doing
nothing else, all the morning, but tumble over this Paris
finery?"

"I beg your pardon--we have been talking quite sensibly, too;
have we not, Aunt Agnes?"

"Much as usual, I believe, my dear," replied Miss Wyllys.

"Pray observe, that the table contains something besides finery;
here are some very good French and Italian books; but, I suppose,
Jane will say, those you selected yourself."

"I certainly did," said Harry; "and the music, too."

"Well, I have half a mind not to tell you, that we like the books
and the music quite as well as anything here," said Elinor,
colouring; and then, as if almost fearing that she had betrayed
her feelings, she continued, in a gay tone. "But, why are you so
severe upon us this morning?"

"Unpalatable truth, I suppose," said Harry, shrugging his
shoulders.

"Pray, remember, sir, that if finery be thrown away upon the
noble sex, at the present day, it was not always so. Let me refer
you to certain kings, who, not content with studying their own
dresses, have condescended to compose those of their queens, too.
Remember how many great heroes--your Turennes and
Marlboroughs--have appeared in diamonds and satin, velvet and
feathers!"

{"Turenne" = Henri de la Tour d'Auvergne, Vicomte de Turenne
(1611-1675), a famous French military commander; "Marlborough" =
John Churchill Marlborough, Duke of Marlborough (1650-1722), a
famous British military commander}

"But that was two hundred years ago."

"They were heroes, nevertheless; and, I suppose, une fois
caporal, toujours caporal. But, if you prefer something nearer to
our own time, figure to yourself Horace Walpole, and General
Conway, some half-century since, consulting, in their
correspondence, upon the particular shade of satin best suited to
their complexions--whether pea-green, or white, were the most
favourable."

{"une foi caporal...." = once a corporal, always a corporal
(French); "Walpole" = Horace Walpole (1717-1797), English author;
"Conway" = General Henry Conway (1721-1795), English general and
politician}

Hazlehurst laughed.

"There it is, in white and black!" said Elinor. "Just remember
Goldsmith, strutting about Temple Gardens, in his blush-coloured
satin, and fancying everybody in love with him, too!"

{"Goldsmith" = Oliver Goldsmith (1730-1775), British author;
"Temple Gardens" = in London on the Thames River, next to The
Temple (an ancient English school of law)}

"Quarter! quarter! Nelly," cried her grandfather, laughing.

"True, I must confess," said Harry, smiling; "but that was more
than fifty years ago. The world has grown wiser, now."

"Has it?"

"Look at our sober coats, to-day--the last Paris fashions, too!"

"Yes--but what is the reason?" cried Elinor, laughing herself.
"You have just found out that finery, and a showy exterior, are
of no use to you--they do not increase your influence with the
ladies! We do not value a man more for a showy exterior!"

"I submit," said Harry; but he coloured, and seemed to Miss
Agnes, more embarrassed by Elinor's remark than was necessary. He
threw down his book, however, and crossed the room to take a
place near her.

"What are you going to do this morning?" he said, quietly.

A walk was proposed, and soon after the young people, accompanied
by Bruno, set out together.



CHAPTER X.

"Fashion, leader of a chattering train."
COWPER.

{William Cowper (English poet, 1731-1800), "Conversation" line
457}

MISS PATSEY'S mother was more unwell than usual; and after
breakfast the following morning, Elinor prepared a little basket
of particularly fine peaches, which she proposed carrying to Mrs.
Hubbard, herself. Harry offered to accompany her, and Jane was
persuaded to join them; although in general, she disliked every
kind of motion except dancing.

The travellers had already seen Miss Patsey and her youngest
sister, and they were now so fortunate as to find Charlie at
home. He had come from New York, the evening before, and, of
course, was much pleased to see his young friends; indeed, he
showed so much emotion at the meeting, as to change colour when
he first saw the three cousins enter the little gate.

"Why, Charlie, you have grown in inches; as well as in dignity,
since we parted," said Hazlehurst, shaking him warmly by the
hand.

"I shall never arrive at any great elevation either way," replied
the youth, after shaking hands also with Jane.

"I don't know that; you have grown half a foot since I saw you,
and you have done wonders I hear, as a painter. Mr. Wyllys, and
Elinor, are both great admirers of your pictures."

"Wonders are comparative, you know; I believe I have accomplished
more, for instance, than my mother anticipated, for she thought I
was going to devote myself to signs and window-blinds."

{"window-blinds" = window shades were at this time frequently
decorated with hand painted pictures}

"That is your account of the matter. But don't suppose I have not
learned that Mr. Charles Hubbard is looked upon as one of our
most promising young artists, and that several of his pictures
are thought the best of their kind that have been painted this
side the Atlantic."

"You are very much improved in flattery by a visit to Paris,"
said Charlie, smiling.

"Only sober truth, as you must well know, Mr. Charles Hubbard. I
hope you have something here for us to look at; I am really very
impatient to see some of your pictures. I wish you could have
enjoyed half the fine works of art that I have seen in the last
two years."

Hubbard replied that he had strong hopes of going abroad himself
before long, thanks to the liberality of his uncle, and the
promise of several orders from different gentlemen. Harry
congratulated him warmly, though he regretted that Charlie should
think of leaving home just as he himself returned.

The young 1adies paid their visit to Mrs. Hubbard in her
bed-room, while Harry and Charlie talked over a hundred different
things together; and after engaging Charles to dine at
Wyllys-Roof, they walked home again.

"Miss Patsey's parlour really looks neater and smaller than
ever," observed Harry. "And I don't think I have seen such an
honest, good-natured, pleasant face as her's, since I left
Longbridge. She seems satisfied now, with the idea of Charlie's
being an artist."

"She is resigned to it, rather," said Elinor, "now that the
matter is entirely settled."

"Charlie looks pale," observed Harry; "he has grown though, and
he is no longer so very slight as he used to be."

"He seems to be well," replied Elinor; "but at times his spirits
are not good. He has been much interested in your
movements--quite anxious about your return."

"Charlie is a right good fellow," said Harry; "I was in hopes to
see a great deal of him, this winter." At this moment Jane
dropped a glove; of course Harry picked it up, and he continued
silent after doing so.

"There, you see, is Mr. Taylor's new house," observed Elinor, as
an opening in a grove of young trees allowed a full view of a
house of some size, and very great pretensions.

Jane looked at the home of her friend Adeline with
interest--Harry exclaimed, "What architecture!"

"Don't abuse it," said Elinor, "for I assure you 'Mr. Taylor's
splendid mansion'--'Mr. Taylor's magnificent seat' is very much
admired."

Just as the party reached the piazza of Wyllys-Roof, Mr. Taylor's
barouche drove up to the door, and in an instant Miss Adeline
Taylor had thrown herself, and her fashionable morning-dress,
into Jane's arms.

"I was so glad to find you were staying here!" she exclaimed. "Pa
and I only arrived from Saratoga last night; I did not expect you
for a month to come."

"We had a very short passage for the season," said Jane,
returning the embrace quite cordially.

"We seem to have taken all our friends rather by surprise, Miss
Taylor," said Harry.

"Well, if I had been in your place, I should have staid in Paris
till the last minute;--though, I dare say, YOU were in a hurry to
get back to Longbridge, Mr. Hazlehurst; no doubt you wanted to
see ME very much. Put I wonder that Jane did not contrive to stay
there."

Harry looked a little embarrassed, and Jane, too, coloured a
little; though there seemed to be no very good reason that either
should do so.

"Did you find Saratoga pleasant, this summer, Miss Taylor?" asked
Elinor, drawing a chair near the bench where the two friends were
sitting, hand in hand.

"Oh, delightful!--Every house full, from the cellar to the
garret. How often I wished for you, Jane! if it was only earlier
in the season I would make pa take us there again, just for the
pleasure of showing off your new French fashions--you would be
the greatest belle of the season."

"We need not inquire who was the belle," said Elinor; "such
important news reaches even sober, home-staying people like us."

"Oh, we had half a dozen belles--all lively, pretty girls. There
was a young gentleman, from Savannah, at Congress Hall, who wrote
some verses about us, and called us the 'Chime of Bells;' it was
a sort of imitation of 'Those Evening Bells,' and was published
in the Saratoga papers. But if Jane had been there, I don't think
we should have stood much chance."

{"Those Evening Bells," popular song by the Irish poet Thomas
Moore (1779-1852), arranged by Sir John Stevenson (1761-1833)}

"You think the poet would have rung a bob-major, for Jane?"

"Certainly; with her trunks full of things from Paris, she would
have carried all before her."

"I don't think Jane has brought a very large share of finery with
her," said Elinor.

"No, indeed," said Harry; "only five trunks and three boxes,
which I had the honour of getting through the Custom-House."

"But part of it was for her friends," said Elinor.

"You would have needed a large supply, I can tell you, Jane,"
said Miss Adeline, "if you had wanted to out-dash us; for we
determined this season, some half-dozen of us, to out-do the
young ladies who were there last year."

"Did you succeed?" said Hazlehurst.

"To be sure we did. We made a firm resolve not only to change our
dress six times every day, but never to wear the same dress
twice. We drove several families away by that manoeuvre; but you
have no idea what fun it was to us, who entered into the spirit
of the thing. For two days, though, we were in great trepidation.
There were a couple of Baltimore girls there, great dashers, who
would not enter into our agreement; and the spiteful things
actually changed their dress seven times, the two first days."

"Seven changes!" said Elinor; "how did they manage that?"

"Why, they came down to breakfast in a white dress; after
breakfast they would drive in another, of course; then they would
show themselves in the drawing-room, after driving, in a pink
muslin, perhaps; at dinner, they wore another; then after dinner,
they would change again; in the evening they wore party-dresses,
of course; and after they went up stairs, they would visit each
other in what they called dress night-wrappers. Now, wasn't it
mean in them?"

"Very," said Harry, laughing.

"To be sure it was. Changing six times was no more than was
necessary; all we 'evening bells' did, was never to wear the same
dress twice. Would you believe it, after putting such a bold face
on the matter, the third day they disappeared suddenly! We had a
good crow, I can tell you. There was a poor little innocent
there, at the same time, from Boston, who tried to beat us on
another tack, as Lieut. Johnson said; they called her the
blue-bell. Well, she never changed her dress, morning, noon, or
night--and just to spite us. But, dear me, we only laughed--we
didn't care a fig for her; although she was very pretty, she
couldn't get a man to speak to her, excepting one old fossil
Professor, who wore spectacles, and walked up and down with her
on the piazza all the time."

{"Lieut. Johnson" = not identified}

"She was no worthy rival for the Chime of Bells!" said Harry.

"Certainly not. But I can tell you, that after we had been there
a week, two of the Chime were in great danger, and one of them no
less a person than your humble servant; the other was Anne
Hunter--Jane, you remember Anne Hunter, who was at Mrs. G-----'s
with us? Well, Anne and I were in great trouble, one day. Now,
Mr. Hazlehurst, I hope you can keep a secret."

"A lady's secret?--Can you doubt me, Miss Taylor?"

"Well, mind now, you never mention it; but, Anne and I got down
to our last dozen dresses, and we were pledged to stay a week
longer. This was Monday, and on Thursday there was to be a
pic-nic, given expressly to the Chime of Bells. At first, I
thought I was the only one in such a deplorable state; but,
happily, I discovered that Anne, whose room was next to mine, was
no better off. And now, how do you suppose we managed?"

"Pray, what did you do?" said Elinor, laughing.

"To tell the truth, I sat down and cried; for I am high-spirited,
and I could not bear the thoughts of such a mortification. But
Anne is an excellent manager, you know, Jane--"

"Yes, I remember her."

"Anne had a plan that carried all off triumphantly. She proposed
to me, to persuade the other three 'evening bells,' that to do
honour to the pic-nic, we should be dressed alike, in a sort of
uniform. Well, of course, the others agreed; but then, how to
find the five dresses alike! Of course, we couldn't wear anything
made in Saratoga. The poet had entreated us, in a sonnet, to be
all dressed in white; so we fixed upon white batiste--but, how to
get them, was the question."

"I am all curiosity--" said Elinor.

"Oh! it was beautifully done,--Anne proposed we should all write
an advertisement for a trusty escort to New York, and post it up
on the curtains of the ladies' drawing-room. What fun we had,
while we were writing the advertisements! We took an opportunity,
when we and our beaux had the drawing-room to ourselves, to vote
the gentlemen out of it. After a while, they went; but, what do
you suppose the wretches did, Mr. Hazlehurst?"

"Nothing ungallant, I trust."

"Yes; to spite us, they crowded to the windows on the piazza,
till we dropped the blinds. Well, for a time, we thought we were
safe; but suddenly Anne Hunter shouted out, and there comfortably
seated in a tree close to the end window, where the blind was
broken, we saw one of the young gentlemen with a note-book in his
hand! We vowed we wouldn't be defeated, so we pinned up our
pocket-handkerchiefs together, and, fortunately, they covered the
peep-hole; and so we shut him out, at last."

"Your perseverance, under such obstacles, was truly surprising,
Miss Taylor;" said Hazlehurst.

"Was it not? We soon wrote our advertisements. Mine was very
short: 'Wanted, an agreeable youth, as escort between this and
New York, apply this evening, at five o'clock.' Some were very
long and ridiculous; one was in verse. Well, after we had written
them, we opened the doors and windows, and the young gentlemen
flocked in again. Then we went in procession, and pinned them up
on the curtains. Such a time as we had--talking and giggling--we
were in such a gale, that, at last, some of the married ladies
came out to see what was the matter. But, the best fun of all,
was choosing our escorts; a great many offered, and then we
examined them."

"I hope they had suitable qualifications for the office."

"Oh, yes.--I took Mr. Hunter, Anne's brother. Well, sure enough,
we all set out together, the next morning; staid one day in the
city; and, Thursday morning, we re-appeared with the dresses. Of
course, Anne and I had taken the opportunity to get a fresh
supply, besides the white batiste. We had a most delightful
pic-nic. I forgot to say, that Anne's escort, the Marquis
Foletti, was missing; she had to do without him--she gave him up
for lost, or absconded, and we allowed her to choose another
beau--when suddenly, just as we were mourning over the Marquis,
he appeared on the ground, and threw himself on his knees, and
made us laugh more than ever. Anne had chosen him, because he had
the handsomest moustaches at Saratoga; but he could not speak
English very well, and had got on board the wrong boat. What
times we had! Jane, I wish you had been there!"

"Your faithful esquires were rewarded, no doubt, by the gallantry
of the deed itself, Miss Taylor," said Harry.

"Of course; but we nevertheless gave them, besides, full
permission to say and do just what they pleased, all that
day--and you can't think how much nonsense we talked. Each
gentleman took the advertisement of the lady he had escorted, and
pinned it over his heart. There were several foreigners there,
and you can't think how they enjoyed it; they had never had such
a frolic with young ladies before, and they thought it
delightful; though, to be sure, they got at last to be rather too
free; and then we had to put a stop to it."

Elinor looked at Jane, to see if she seemed to sympathize in
Adeline's story; but her cousin's beautiful face was still bright
with the glow of pleasure from meeting her friend; no other
thought or feeling was to be traced there.

"I don't believe they have any such fun in Paris, Mr.
Hazlehurst."

"Not exactly.--They have a pleasantry of their own, however,
which is quite agreeable."

"I don't think I should like it. They say, a young lady dares not
speak to gentlemen, nor walk with them, nor have the least bit of
a flirtation. How stupid it must be!"

"But the French girls do talk to gentlemen, I assure you,"
replied Jane, "only they are not intimate with everybody. The
young men are very attentive, too; they treat young girls with
much more respect, Louisa says, than in America."

"Who cares for respect! I want to laugh and amuse myself, and
have my own way," exclaimed Adeline.

"It is growing quite warm here--you will find it pleasanter in
the drawing-room, Miss Taylor;" said Elinor, not caring to listen
any longer to Jane's giddy friend.

"Well, if you please, I'll run up to Jane s room, and look at the
fashions--I am dying to see some of her capes and collars.
By-the-bye, I had forgotten two very important things. Here is a
note for your aunt, Miss Elinor; some private communication from
Ma; the coachman will take the answer. And then, I came over to
ask you all to drink tea with us, this evening, very sociably;
nobody but your own family and three or four friends!"

The invitation was accepted, as a matter of course.

"Good morning, Mr. Hazlehurst; I expect to be shut up with Jane,
for three hours to come; I have really talked myself out of
breath; but that is always the way, with me, as you know, of
old." And the two girls, hand-in-hand, ran lightly up stairs,
where Elinor, making an excuse of Mrs. Taylor's note, left them
to a confidential tete-a-tete.



CHAPTER XI.

"A soldier may be anything, if brave;
So may a merchant if not quite a knave."
COWPER.

"Trade his delight and hope; and, if alive,
Doubt I have none, that Barnaby will thrive."
CRABBE.

{William Cowper (English poet, 1731-1800), "Hope" lines 201-210.
George Crabbe (English poet, 1754-1832), "Posthumous Tales: VIII
Barnaby; the Shopman" lines II.3-4}

WE have really been very remiss in omitting so long to notice the
rapid strides with which Mr. Pompey Taylor had advanced on the
road to fame and fortune, during the two years in which we have
lost sight of him. He might have addressed, to the reader, the
remark that the Emperor Napoleon applied to his secretary, after
the conquest of Prussia and Austria: "J'ai fait des progres
immenses depuis que Bourienne {sic} m'a quitte!"

{"J'ai fait des..." = I have made immense progress since
Bourienne left me! Louis-Antoine Fauvelet de Bourrienne
(1769-1834) was a French diplomat who served as Napoleon's
private secretary during his invasion of Egypt}

It is a rule, in composition, it was so, at least, when people
wrote by rule, to compare the little with the great. If we were
to follow the direction, it would be easy to prove that these two
individuals, the conqueror, Napoleon, and the speculator, Taylor,
were not too widely separated for many points of resemblance to
be traced between them. Ambition was the ruling passion of both;
and both were alike insatiable. Bonaparte added kingdom to
kingdom; Taylor, house to house; the emperor might believe
himself equal to ruling half the world; the merchant felt capable
of owning the other half. The one raised army after army; the
other fitted out vessel after vessel. The energies of both were
inexhaustible, and both aimed at an ever-receding goal; while
each, in his own way, soon reached a height never dreamed of by
the mothers who rocked their cradles. Nor would it be justice to
Mr. Taylor, to suppose, that the love of money, alone, was the
main-spring of his actions; he, too, was spurred on by the love
of glory; dollars and cents were not the end, with him; he looked
upon his thousands, in gold and paper, as Napoleon did upon his
thousands in flesh and blood--they were but the instruments which
were to open the road to fame. The man of commerce, and the man
of war, were alike lavish of their treasures, when the object of
their lives was in view. If one was the boldest of generals, the
other was the most enterprising of merchants; and Fortune
favoured the daring of both. In short, Mr. Taylor was no common,
plodding trader, content with moderate gains and safe
investments, and fixing his hopes on probabilities--he pursued
traffic with the passion of a gambler, united to the close
calculation of a miser; and yet, he spent freely what he had
acquired easily.

There are merchants, who, by their education, their integrity,
their talents and their liberality, are an honour to the
profession; but Mr. Pompey Taylor was not of the number. We have
all heard the anecdote of the young man addicted to the sin of
swearing, whose conversation, during dinner, was taken down in
short-hand, and, when read afterwards, shocked the individual
himself. Could the thoughts and words of Mr. Taylor, during a
single day, have been as fairly registered, perhaps he himself
would have been astonished to find how very large a portion of
them were given to gain and speculation, in some shape or other.
At social meetings, whether dinners or evening parties, he seldom
talked long on any other subject: he has been known to utter the
word 'stocks,' just as he entered a church, on Sunday; while a
question about certain lots was the first sentence which passed
his lips, as he crossed the threshold on his way out. Eating his
meals under his own roof; walking down Broadway to Wall-Street,
every morning, at nine o'clock, and back again every afternoon at
three; still the echo of Mr. Taylor's thoughts and words was
'dollars,' 'stocks,' and 'lots'--' lots,' 'stocks,' and
'dollars.' He had a value for everything in dollars--his jokes
turned upon stocks--and his dreams were filled with lots. Let it
not be supposed, however, that Mr. Pompey Taylor was born with
the phrenological organ of the love of money more strongly
developed than other human beings. By no means. He was endowed by
nature with faculties and feelings as varied as other men. But,
from the time he could first walk and talk, precept and exam

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