"Merrily, merrily dance the bells;
Swiftly glides the sleigh!"
Newspaper Verses.
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EARLY in December, a new glazed card was to be seen on most of
the fashionable tables in New York. It was of the particular tint
most in favour that season, whether bluish or pinkish we dare not
affirm, for fear of committing a serious anachronism, which might
at once destroy, with many persons, all claim to a knowledge of
the arcana of fashionable life. Having no authorities at hand to
consult, the point must be left to the greater research of the
critical reader. This card bore the name of T. TALLMAN TAYLOR;
but whether in Roman or Italic characters we dare not say, for
the same reason which has just been frankly confessed. It was,
however, a highly fashionable bit of pasteboard, as became the
representative of a personage who returned to New York, claiming
the honours of fashion himself. This was no less a person than
the Son of Mr. Pompey Taylor. But the T. Tallman Taylor, whose
whole appearance was pronounced unexceptionable by the New York
belles, from the points of his boots to the cut of his
moustaches, was a very different individual from the
good-looking, but awkward, ungainly youth, introduced to the
reader two or three years since, at Wyllys-Roof. He had, in the
mean time, learned how to stand, how to sit, how to walk, how to
talk in a drawing-room. He had learned what to do with his cane
and his hat, how to manage his pocket-handkerchief and his
gloves; branches of knowledge which an American who sets about
acquiring them, usually learns quite rapidly. He was also very
much improved in riding and dancing, and was said to fence well.
These, with the addition of a much better French accent, were the
principal changes perceptible to the ladies, who pronounced them
all for the better. Among the young men he was soon found to be
an excellent judge of Chateau Margaux and Rudesheimer; some also
thought him knowing in horse-flesh, while others doubted his
qualifications in that respect. His father, moreover, soon
discovered that he had become an adept in the art of spending
money; among his intimates, cards, and the billiard-table, with
other practices of that description, were hinted at, as the way
in which he got rid of his dollars. But as these were subjects
not mentioned in general society, it was as yet the initiated
only, who were aware of young Taylor's Paris habits of this kind.
{"Chateau Margaux and Rudesheimer" = two famous wines}
His father had, of late years, learned to set too high a value
upon the world, and everything worldly, not to be much gratified
by the change that had taken place in his son. As for Adeline,
she gloried in his six-feet and his black moustaches, his Paris
waistcoat and London boots; while his honest-hearted mother would
have loved him just as much under any other metamorphosis he had
chosen to assume. Such as he was, young Taylor soon became quite
a favourite beau with the New Yorkers, and was invited to most
houses. He proved himself quite a ladies' man; no lazy, grumbling
dandy, but a smiling, assiduous beau. He had not been in New York
a month, before he was known to have sent a number of bouquets to
different belles, and was supposed to have given more than one
serenade to his sister's friend, Miss Hunter.
The last day of December, all New York was set in motion by a
fall of snow, sufficient to allow of pretty good sleighing for
four-and-twenty hours. Like such occasions in general, it became
a sort of holiday. And really, the novelty, the general movement,
the bustle and gaiety, the eagerness to enjoy the pleasure while
it lasts, always render such scenes very enlivening. Every
vehicle with runners, and every animal bearing the name of a
horse, are put in requisition for the day. The dashing sleighs
crowded with gaily dressed people, the smiling faces and flying
feathers of the ladies, the rich cloths and furs, the bright
colours of the equipages, and the inspiriting music of the merry
bells, give to Broadway, at such times, quite a carnival look.
The clear, bracing air disposes people to be cheerful; even the
horses feel the spirit of the moment; they prance their heads
proudly, and shake the bells about their necks, as if delighted
with the ease and rapidity of their motion; sympathizing
foot-passengers stop to give their friends a nod, and follow
their rapid course with good-natured smiles. Young people and
children are collected for a frolic, and family parties hurry off
to drink coffee and mulled wine, to eat plum-cake and waffles at
the neighbouring country-houses. It is altogether a gay, cheerful
sight, enjoyed with all the more zest from its uncertainty.
Hazlehurst was delighted, as he went to his window, the morning
in question, to find the roofs and pavements covered with snow.
For several years he had had no sleighing, and he promised
himself a very pleasant day. Mrs. Stanley was going to remain
quietly at home. He sent to a livery-stable to secure a good
horse and a pretty cutter for himself and immediately after
breakfast hurried off to Mrs. Graham's lodgings, with the hope of
obtaining Jane as a companion. "And who knows," thought he, "what
may happen before evening."
He had just reached Mrs. Graham's door, when a very dashing
sleigh, drawn by four fine horses, drew up from the opposite
direction. Young Taylor was in the coachman's seat; Miss Hunter,
Adeline, and a quiet-looking young man, whom we shall introduce
as Theodore St. Leger, were in the sleigh. Miss Adeline threw off
her over-cloak, and as she gave her hand to Mr. St. Leger, to
jump from the sleigh, called out to Harry in her usual shrill
voice, {sic}
"Good morning, Mr. Hazlehurst, you are exact at the rendez-vous,
for of course you got my note. But you ought to have brought a
lady with you; you mustn't run away with Jane; she is to be of
our party in the sleigh, do you hear?" continued the young lady,
trying hard to look pretty and positive, at the same time. "I
hope you didn't mean to ask her to go with you."
"Yes, I did," replied Harry, rather stoutly. "Miss Graham told me
the other day, she quite longed for sleighing, and made something
very like a promise to go with me if we had any snow."
"Oh, but not to-day; I must have her in the sleigh with me! Now,
Jane, dear," continued the young lady, tripping into the
drawing-room followed by her brother and Harry, "put on your hat
at once, that's a good girl; we wouldn't miss having you for the
world."
Harry had often been provoked with Adeline's constant
appropriation of Jane to herself, when they were together; and he
determined, if he could prevent it, she should not succeed this
time.
"Miss Taylor is very decided," he said, "but so am I. And I think
you must remember you were pledged to me for the first sleighing,
if we were so fortunate as to have any."
"It's no such thing, I'm sure;--is it, Jane?"
"Pray, remember we are two to one, Miss Graham," said young
Taylor, on the other side, in an insinuating voice.
"But we can all go together," said Jane, blushing, and scarcely
knowing what to do.
"If Mrs. Graham were here," added Harry, "I think she would
certainly trust you with me. I have a very good horse, one that I
have driven all along, and he is perfectly safe."
"So are ours, all four of them," said Adeline; "and I'm sure
there must be more safety with four safe horses, than with one!"
"Perfectly safe, Miss Graham, I assure you," added young Taylor.
"Of course I should not press you unless I felt sure you would
run no risk."
"Pshaw!" said Adeline. "Why should we stand here, talking about
the risk and danger, like so many old grey-beards. Put on your
hat, dear, that's a darling, without any more palaver. Anne
Hunter and Mr. St. Leger are waiting for us at the door; you know
we are going to Bloomingdale, to lunch, at Mrs. Hunter's. We
shall have a charming time; and Mr. Hazlehurst is going with us
too. Of course you got my note," she added, turning to Harry.
{"Bloomingdale" = a fashionable and still rural area of Manhattan
Island, though a part of New York City}
"No, I did not; but I should have been obliged to decline your
invitation, Miss Taylor," said Hazlehurst, bowing a little
stiffly. "I have made arrangements for going on Long Island."
"Oh, that's a pity; I am really sorry, for I wanted you to be of
our party; only I couldn't have you run away with my friend Jane.
Silence gives consent, Jane. You didn't answer my note, this
morning."
"Perhaps I had better not go at all," said Jane, not a little
perplexed. "Mamma is not at home, and will not know what has
become of me."
"Nonsense, child; Mrs. Graham will know you are in very good
hands. You have been out with me a hundred times before, and you
surely don't think there is any more danger because Tallman is of
the party."
"I hope not," added young Taylor, in an insinuating manner; "I'm
a first-rate whip, Miss Graham."
"Now, just tell the truth; didn't you mean to go with me, before
Mr. Hazlehurst came in?" said Adeline--"no fibbing, mind."
"I only received your note ten minutes since," replied Jane; "but
I did think of going with you."
"I should like to know why you hesitate, then. First come, first
served. Now, the best thing you can do, Mr. Hazlehurst, is to
change your mind, and ask one of the Miss Howards, and join our
party, too. I really wish you would!"
"You are very good," said Harry, coldly; "but I must beg you to
excuse me."
Jane allowed herself to be shawled and cloaked by young Taylor,
and the affair was settled. But Harry thought she did not seem
quite satisfied with herself, for she changed colour several
times, and he even remarked that her fingers trembled as she tied
the strings of her hat. This rather softened his feelings towards
her; but he still felt extremely provoked with the meddling
Adeline, and her officious brother. As he did not wish to play
the worsted man, however, he tried to put a good face on the
matter, and accompanied the party down-stairs, helped the ladies
into the sleigh, wished them a pleasant drive, and went off
himself, at a rapid pace, towards the Long-Island ferry.
He was exceedingly out of humour with Adeline, and reproached
Jane not a little for allowing herself to be so often guided by
her trifling friend. The occurrence of the morning, hastened his
determination to bring matters to a conclusion. That very evening
should decide the point. He must have been more than modest to
have doubted the result; Jane's manner he had long thought just
what he could wish from one so little demonstrative as herself.
Hubert de Vaux, it is true, had been very assiduous of late, but
Jane had never given him any sign of preference, sufficient to
excite Harry's jealousy. Mr. Graham was expected every day from
Charleston, to pass the remainder of the winter with his family;
as he had already given one daughter to the elder Hazlehurst, and
no serious objection could be raised against Harry, his prospects
were very promising. Before long, the gentle, lovely Jane would
be his own; his would be the enviable lot, of carrying off the
beautiful prize.
Hazlehurst had time to make these reflections, and disperse his
ill-humour, before he reached the wharf at Brooklyn. Here he met
Charlie Hubbard, whom he had not seen for some time, not, indeed,
since his rupture with the Wyllyses. Charlie's greeting was not
quite as warm as usual; he did not seem as much pleased at this
unexpected meeting, and the offer of a seat in Harry's cutter, as
one might have supposed. Hazlehurst was so cordial, however, and
urged the young painter so much to take a turn with him on the
Island, that, after a little hesitation, Hubbard accepted.
"Come, Charlie; I am sure you haven't any very good reason for
not making the most of the snow, like the rest of us."
"Perhaps not," said Charlie; and he took his seat with Harry.
Hubbard gave a good account of himself and his family. He had
received several orders; and his pet picture of the moment was
going on finely. His youngest sister was in town, taking music
lessons, to fit her for her future occupation; and he had just
sent Miss Patsey a pair of globes for her school, as a New Year's
gift; the most expensive present, by-the-bye, Charlie had ever
made in his life.
"I feel quite rich," said the young man, "since I pocketed a
hundred a-piece for my two views of Nahant. To be sure, I never
expect to make a fortune; if I can earn enough to support my
mother and sister, and paint only such pictures as I please, that
is all I want of the good things of this world."
"It's all very well to say so now, Charlie, that you have
received your two hundred; but wait till you are the great Mr.
Hubbard, and expect two thousand for your last view of
Coney-Island."
"That day will never come, to me, or to any other man, perhaps,
in this country," replied young Hubbard. "I go to work with my
eyes open, as you well know. My uncles have talked the matter
over with me a hundred times, if they have once; they have showed
me what I could do if I took to making money, and what I could
not do if I took to painting. They have offered to help me on;
Mr. Taylor would take me into his counting-house, to-morrow; and
Hilson offers to make me an auctioneer. But I have chosen my
profession, and I shall abide by it. I have no wish for wealth. I
should never be tempted to sell my soul for money--no, nor my
good name, or my independence: for I do not feel willing to
barter even my time and tastes for riches. I can honestly say,
money has no charms for me. A comfortable subsistence, in a very
moderate way, is all I should ask for."
"I know it, Hubbard, and I honour your decision," said
Hazlehurst, warmly. "It is impossible, however, but that genius
like yours should make its way; and I hope you may meet with all
the success you deserve, even though it bring you more money than
you wish for: one of these days when there is a Mrs. Hubbard, you
may want more than you require now."
A shade of feeling passed over the young artist's fine face, as
Harry carelessly uttered these words; it seemed to spring from
some painful thought. It was unobserved by Hazlehurst, however,
who was not looking at his companion at the moment. Charlie was
soon roused by Harry's inquiries as to his plans for travelling
in Europe. The young men then spent a pleasant hour in discussing
different works of the great masters, which Hubbard, as yet, knew
only from engravings and books. Surrounded by snow and ice, they
talked over the atmospheres of Italy and Greece.