was annoying your cousin Cornelia, who sat between me and S----.
Glancing at her face, I saw there, in addition to a heightened color, an
expression of mingled constraint and hauteur, quite inconsistent with
her usual graceful self-possession and animation.
Making some general remark to her, and showing no signs of curiosity, I
began quietly to cast about me for the cause of this unwonted
disturbance. Turning my head towards Ida, I overheard her saying,
playfully, though in an undertone, to the senator, with whom she was
already embarked upon the tide of talk: "He reminds me of an exquisite
couplet in an old valentine of mine:
'Are not my ears as long as other asses', pray?
Don't I surpass all other asses at a bray?'"
I was not long in detecting the secret cause of Cornelia's averted face
and Ida's sportive quotation.
"See here, John, get me some col' slaw and unions, will you--right off,"
shouted a young man seated a little below us, on the opposite side of
the table.
I wish you could have seen the half-repressed wonder depicted in the
countenance of the servant thus addressed, as he glanced at the piece
of "_Mackerel a la maitre d'Hotel_," as the bill of fare called the
_fish_ on his plate.
Oh, for a Hogarth to do justice to the figure that had arrested my
attention! The face was not bad, perhaps. A merry, dark eye, lit up with
the very spirit of mischief and impudence; a tolerably high, but narrow
forehead; thick, wild-looking black hair, parted on the top of the head,
and bushy whiskers--add large, handsome teeth, displayed by full, red,
ever-laughing lips, and you have the physiognomy. But the dress!
"Ye powers of every name and grace,"
aid my poor endeavors to describe his toilette! A high shirt-collar,
flaring wide from the throat, by the pugnacious manifestations of the
sturdy whiskers aforesaid; a flashy neckcloth, tied in very broad bows,
and with the long ends laid off pretty well towards the tips of the
shoulders; a velvet waistcoat, of large pattern and staring colors,
crossed by a heavy gold chain, from which dangled a gold-mounted
eye-glass, broad ruffles to his shirt, fastened with huge studs of three
opposing, but equally brilliant colors! A shining Holland-linen
dust-coat completed this unique costume.
Presently, some one at a distance suddenly attracted the roving eyes of
our hero, and he began the most significant telegraphing with hands and
head, designed, apparently, to persuade the other to come and sit by
him. Turning, as if by accident, I saw a young man, near the entrance of
the room, shaking his head very positively in the negative. But this
was no quietus to our neighbor, who half rose from his seat.
"Not room for the gentleman here, sir," said a major domo, coming up.
"Yes there is, too, plenty of room! If you would just move _a leetle_,
ma'am--so," pushing at the chair of an elderly woman, who seemed
suddenly to grow more slender than ever, and at the same time hitching
his own nearer to that of the person next him on the other side, "that
will do, famously! Now, waiter, a plate! I hope I don't crowd you, sir
[to the gentleman next him], we don't wear _hoops_ you know! can keep
_tight_ without them!" The last, in a whisper, like a boatswain's
whistle upon which the respectable female, who illustrated the
mathematical definition of _a point_, bridled and reddened with virtuous
indignation.
Luckily the table was not as closely filled as it often is, and in much
less time than it takes me to describe the scene, the triumph of the
youth was complete, and a well-dressed, gentlemanly-looking man came
forward, seemingly with considerable reluctance.
"How are you, Fred, how are you? Right glad to see you, 'pon my
soul--sit down! When'd you get in? Left all the folks well?"
There was no avoiding hearing this tide of questions, poured out in a
loud, hilarious tone, that rose over the subdued murmur of ordinary
conversation, like the notes of a bugle, sounding amid the twittering
of the feathered tenants of a grove. Apparently quite unconscious that
any one else in his vicinity possessed powers of hearing and seeing, and
wholly unobservant of the elevated eye-brows of some of his neighbors,
and the significant looks and ill-suppressed smiles of the servants, the
young man ran on with details of his own private affairs, interrogations
respecting those of his companion, interspersed with loud and multiplied
directions to the attendants. From my soul I pitied his victim! Deeper
and deeper grew the flush of shame and embarrassment in his handsome
face, more and more laconic and low-voiced his replies, and more uneasy
his restless movements and glances.
By and by two huge glasses of foaming strong-beer made their appearance.
Beau Brummel's celebrated saying--"A gentleman may _port_; but he never
_malts_," crossed my mind. With due deference to this high authority,
for my part, I think a glass of London brown-stout, or Scotch ale, a
pleasant accompaniment to a bit of cold meat and bread, when one is
inclined to sup; but taking beer _at dinner_ is quite another affair.
Well! there was a little lull for a time, only to be followed by a new
sensation. One of the quick, galvanic movements of the nondescript
overset a full bottle of wine, just as it was placed between himself and
his friend, and he was in the act of saying, "If you don't drink beer,
Fred, take some--by thunder that's too bad!"
The dark-colored liquor poured over the table-cloth, and, dividing into
numerous little streamlets, diverged in every direction from the parent
source. Servants hurried forward with napkins to stay the progress of
the flood, the gentleman next our hero coolly dammed up the stream that
most alarmingly threatened his safety, with a piece of bread, and the
slender female, whose slight pretentions to breadth had been so
unceremoniously ignored, fidgeted uneasily under the table, as though
apprehensive that the penetrating powers of the invading foe might be
working in ambush, to the detriment of her light-hued drapery. But the
face of the young stranger! It was positively mottled! His very
forehead, before smooth and fair, suddenly suggested the idea that he
was just recovering from the smallpox!
Meantime, our little party were quietly pursuing the even tenor of their
respective dinners. Suddenly I missed S----.
"What has become of the Governor?" said I to Cornelia, in an under-tone.
"A servant called him away," returned she, in the same unnoticeable
manner. The next moment I again remarked the same peculiar movement
towards me and the same expression of countenance, that had arrested my
attention when we first sat down. A woman's quick instinct never
deceives her! Apparently unheeding, I listened.
"Dev'lish handsome! like her air!--wouldn't object to taking the seat
myself, by George!" caught my ear.
I think that young man understood the _fixed look_ with which I regarded
him for the space of about half a minute! I was quite sure his companion
did.
By this time, the dessert was on the table.
"Where're you going, Fred? you ain't done?" shouted the Hoosier, or
whatever he was.
"I have an engagement--I'll see you again," replied the gentleman thus
addressed, springing up, and eluding the detaining grasp of his
persecutor, quickly made good his escape.
No sooner were we seated in one of the parlors, than Ida's pent-up
merriment burst forth.
"Did you hear what that poor young man said, when the other commenced
reading the bill of fare, uncle," said she, "just before he darted out
of the room?"
"What, in particular, do you refer to, my dear? I heard a great deal
more than I wished."
"O, I mean when the _speaking-trumpet_, as Governor S---- called him,
shouted out--'_fricandeau de veau!_--What's he, Fred? Do tell a fellow.'
He was picking his teeth at the time, with a large goose-quill, with all
the feathers on!"
"Well, what was the answer?"
"The poor martyr was, by that time, reduced to the _calmness of
despair_," replied your cousin, laughing; "he answered, with a meaning
air, I thought, '_A calf's head!--one of the entrees!_' Corne, I hope
you did not lose the full effect of the great green and orange-colored
peaches sprinkled over the vest of your admirer. Love at first sight, my
dear! Never saw a more unmistakable smitation! What a triumph! Your
first conquest since your arrival in New York, I believe, Miss
Lunettes!" lisping affectedly, and bowing with mock deference.
"Ida, you'll be overheard! I'm ashamed of you," returned the stately
Cornelia, with an air of offended propriety.
"It will never do, Puss," said I; "Corne is right. But, Corne, what
happened to the senator?"
"How courteous he is!" exclaimed the young lady, with sudden enthusiasm.
"A servant came and whispered to him--'Miss Lunettes,' said he, turning
to me, 'the only man in the world who could tempt me from your side--my
best friend--asks for me on important business. Will you permit me to
leave you, after requesting the honor of attending you?' Of course, I
assented. 'Make my apologies to Miss Ida and Colonel Lunettes,' said he,
as we shook hands, 'I am very unfortunate.'"
"How quietly he slipped away," said Ida; "I knew nothing of it, until he
was gone."
"Well-bred people are always quiet," remarked the elder sister,
significantly.
"Oh, dear me!" retorted Ida, coloring. "Well, it's too much to expect of
any one, not to laugh at such a nondescript specimen of humanity as that
young man."
The next morning, before I left my room, a card was brought to me,
inscribed with the name of "Frederick H. Alloway," and inclosed with the
following note:
"The son of one of Colonel Lunettes' old friends begs leave to
claim the honor of his acquaintance, and will do himself the
pleasure to pay his respects, at any hour, this morning, that will
be most agreeable to Colonel Lunettes.
"_Metropolitan Hotel_,
"_Wednesday Morn._"
A half-revived remembrance of a face once familiar, had haunted me at
the dinner table the day before, whenever I chanced to catch the eye of
the victimized youth I have alluded to. I was, therefore, not unprepared
to find him identical with the author of this note.
A certain constraint was evinced by his manner, when the first
complimentary phrases were over. At length his embarrassment found
expression.
"I am not sure, Colonel Lunettes," said he, "that I should have ventured
to intrude upon you this morning--much as I desired to make the
acquaintance of a gentlemen of whom I have so frequently heard my father
speak--had I not wished to make an apology, or at least an
explanation"----
He hesitated, and the mottled color of the day before mantled over his
ingenuous face. I hastened to say something polite.
"You are very good, sir--really--scandalously as that young fellow
behaved--he is not without redeeming qualities. My acquaintance with him
is slight, and entirely accidental. One of our successful Western
speculators, and a very good-hearted fellow--but sadly in need of
polish."
"So I perceived," returned I, gravely, "nor is that all. One can pardon
_ignorance_ much more readily than _impudence_."
"Very true, sir. I only hope that I was not so unfortunate as to incur
your displeasure. I--permit me to express the hope that the ladies of
your party did not regard me as in the most remote way implicated in an
intention to annoy them," and his voice actually trembled with manly
earnestness.
"By no means, my dear young friend; by no means. I assure you, on the
contrary, that you had our sympathy in your distress--comic as it was."
The intense ludicrousness of the affair now seemed, for the first time,
to take full possession of the perceptive faculties of my new
acquaintance.
When our mutual merriment had in some degree subsided, I invited him to
dine with us, unless he preferred to resume his seat of the day before.
"Heaven forbid!" exclaimed he, with great vivacity; "I should have left
this house to-day, if that fellow had not--he is gone, I am rejoiced to
say."
It was arranged that the "son of my old friend," as he indeed was,
should meet me in the drawing-room a few moments before dinner, and be
presented to your cousins. So we parted.
Almost the first person I saw as I was entering the public drawing-room,
to join my nieces, before dinner, on that day, was young Alloway. He
was evidently awaiting me, and, upon my recognizing him by a bow, at
once advanced.
"You are punctual, I see, Mr. Alloway," said I, as we seated ourselves;
"a very good trait, in a young man!"
"I fear, sir, there is little merit in being punctual with such a reward
in anticipation," replied he, laughing pleasantly, and bowing to the
ladies, as he spoke.
Our new acquaintance, very properly, offered his arm to the _younger_
sister, and I, of course, preceded them with the elder, and though, when
we were seated together, he was quite too well-bred to confine either
his attentions or his conversation to Ida, I must say that I have not
often seen two young people become more readily at ease in each other's
society than my lively favorite, and the "son of my old friend." They
seemed to find each other out by intuition, and talked together in the
most animated manner permitted by their unvarying regard for decorum.
Their nearest neighbors were not disturbed by their mirthfulness, nor
could persons seated opposite them hear their conversation, and yet
Alloway was evidently fast being remunerated for the chagrin and
embarrassment of his previous dinner.
"Uncle Hal," said Cornelia, leaning towards me, as we sat together on a
sofa, after leaving the table, glancing round to be sure that Ida heard
her, "don't you think Minnesota gentlemen, _generally_, must be rather
susceptible?"
Her sister, turning
"The trembling lustre of her dewy eyes"
upon the quizzical speaker, was interrupted in the spirited rejoinder
she evidently meditated, by the return of Alloway, who had been up to
his room for a pencil-sketch of the Falls of Minnehaha (between St.
Paul's and the Falls of St. Anthony, you know) which he told us he had
made on the spot, a few days before leaving his Western home.
"How beautiful it must be there!" exclaimed Ida, delightedly. "And you
are taking this to your mother! It reminds me of a 'Panorama of the
Western Wilds,' I think it was called, to which papa took us in New
York, last spring. I don't know when I saw anything so lovely! I had no
just conception before of the magnificence and variety of the scenery of
the far-West."
"Why, my dear," said I quietly, just for my own amusement, and to watch
the effect upon all parties, "you seem so charmed with these sketches of
the West, that I think I must try and show you the originals by-and-by.
How would you like to go with me to look after my Western investments
next month?"
"Just like uncle Hal!" I hear more than one of you crying. "He always
plays the mischief among the young folks!" So, to punish your
impertinence, I shall say nothing in particular, of the sudden light
that shone in the fine eyes of our new friend, nor of the enthusiasm
with which Ida clapped her hands and bravoed my proposition. Still more,
I am by no means sure that I shall feel justified in telling you what
came of all this in the future.
After a while, some other young men came to speak to the girls, and
Alloway, modestly withdrawing, lingered near me, as if wishing to
address me. A lady was saying something to me at the moment. When she
had finished speaking, I turned to my young friend.
"Colonel Lunettes," said he, in the most polite and respectful manner,
"the ladies inform me that they are to go with you to see some pictures,
in the morning. Will you permit me to attend them?"
Receiving my assent, he added, "My present mode of life affords few
facilities for the inspection of works of Art; and I am so mere a tyro,
too, that I shall be happy to have the benefit of your cultivated
taste."
"I dare say Mr. Alloway could instruct us all," interposed Ida, "that
is, sister and me. Uncle Lunettes has spent so many years abroad, that
he is, of course, quite _au fait_ in all such things."
"At what hour do you propose going, ladies?" inquired Alloway.
Twelve o'clock was fixed upon.
"I shall have great pleasure in again meeting you all at that time,"
said Alloway, and, as he shook hands with me, he added, with a
significant smile, "I will endeavor to be quite _punctual_, Colonel!"
"Who is that fine-looking young man, Colonel Lunettes?" asked the lady
with whom I had been conversing, as I reseated myself at her side. "His
manners are remarkably easy and graceful for so young a person. What a
contrast he is to young J----, there, who, with all the advantages of
education, foreign travel, and good society, is, and always will be, _a
clown_! Just look at him, now, talking to those girls! Sitting, _of
course_, upon two legs of his chair, and picking his teeth with a
pen-knife!"
"What would be the consequence," said I, "if he should lose his balance
and fall backward, with his mouth open in that way, and his knife held
by the tip end of the handle, poised upon his teeth?"
"It looks really dangerous, don't it," commented the same slender
female, whose _slight_ manifestations had interested me, at dinner, the
day before--"but I suppose he is so used to it that"----
A sudden movement arrested further philosophical speculation, on the
part of this profound observer of life and manners, and a young lady
whose flounces had been sadly torn by the very chair upon the occupant
of which she was commenting, passed hurriedly out of the room, with her
disordered dress gathered up in both hands.
The next morning, some time before the hour appointed for our visit to
the Dusseldorf Gallery, a servant brought me the following note:
"Mr. Alloway regrets extremely that an unexpected, but imperative,
engagement, deprives him of the anticipated pleasure of
accompanying the Misses and Colonel Lunettes this morning.
"Will Colonel Lunettes oblige Mr. Alloway by making his compliments
acceptable to the Misses Lunettes, together with the most sincere
expressions of his disappointment?
"METROPOLITAN HOTEL,
"_Thursday Morning_."
"I am so sorry!" exclaimed Ida, when informed of this. "Uncle Hal is
always beau enough, but the more the merrier, you know, dear uncle,"
added she, linking her arm in mine, and looking artlessly up into my
face.
"You are quite right, my dear," said I. "I like your frankness, and I am
sorry to lose Alloway myself."
As I was going out of the "Ladies' Entrance" with your cousins, I
perceived my young friend supporting the steps of a pale, emaciated
gentleman, who coughed violently, and walked with difficulty, even from
the carriage to the door, though sustained on the other side also by an
elderly lady. I drew the girls aside, that they might pass
uninterruptedly.
"I hope you are well this morning, ladies," said Alloway, raising his
hat, as he caught sight of us. "Good morning, Colonel Lunettes."
* * * * *
"Good morning, again, ladies!" said a cheerful, but subdued voice behind
us, as the girls and I were seated together, examining the merry
"Wine-tasters" of the Gallery, after having devoted some time to
subjects of a more elevated moral tone.
We turned our heads simultaneously. "Good morning, sir," said Alloway,
for it was he; "with your leave, I will join you now."
Your cousins made room for him between them. "I am so happy not wholly
to lose this," said he, bowing to each of the ladies. "I feared I could
not meet you here even as early as this."
"We would have waited for you," interposed Ida; "why didn't you tell
us?"
"I did not think for a moment of taking such a liberty," returned the
young man. "It would, perhaps, have interfered with your other
engagements. Indeed, I scarcely hoped to find you here, but could not
deny myself the pleasure of coming in search of you."
"Which is your favorite picture here, Miss Lunettes?" I heard Alloway
ask presently.
"Come and see," returned she, and, rising, she added, "come,
sister--uncle, we will return, do not disturb yourself."
Loitering along toward them, a while after, I remarked, as I approached,
the expressive faces of the group, and their graceful attitudes, as they
discussed Cornelia's "favorite," and reflected how much the poetry and
beauty that environ youth, when refined by nature and polished by
education, surpass the highest achievements of art.
"What innocence in that face! What dewy softness in the steadfast
eyes!" exclaimed Cornelia. "The very shoes have an appropriate
expression! dear little bird! one can't help loving her, and wanting to
know all about her."
"If she were not deaf and dumb," said her cavalier, "I am sure she would
rise and make a courtesy to such flattering admirers! I am getting
dreadfully jealous of her!"
"You needn't be, as far as I am concerned," retorted Ida; "for my part,
I don't like that brown stuff dress! She isn't _fixed up_ a bit, as
children always are, when they sit for their portraits." And she tripped
away to take another look at her especial admiration--the "_Peasants
Returning from the Harvest-field_," which is, indeed, a gem.
"What does Miss Ida mean?" inquired Alloway, smilingly, of her sister.
"I am sure I don't know," returned Cornelia, "she is full of sentiment,
which she always endeavors to hide."
"With your permission I will go and ask her," said the admirer of the
truant, and bowing politely to us both, he followed Ida.
I will just add, here, that I learned afterwards, accidentally, and not
even remotely through him, that the persons with whom we met Alloway
that morning, were the mother and brother of that scapegrace we first
saw him with. They had come to New York with the understanding that he
would meet them there, at an appointed time, and assist in the care
required by his dying relative; but this promising youth had suddenly
left the city, without leaving any clue to his proceedings, probably, in
pursuit of some pretty face, which, like Cornelia's, happened to attract
his attention. Luckily, the poor mother learned that Alloway, who was
slightly known to her, was in the city, and appealed to him for
assistance--with what success may be inferred from the little incident I
have narrated.
* * * * *
It has always been a matter of marvel, with the learned in such matters,
how Sir Walter Scott accomplished such Herculean literary labors in
conjunction with the discharge of so many public and social duties. As
he himself used to say, he long had a "troop of dragoons galloping
through his head," to which, as their commanding officer, he devoted
much attention; he was sheriff of the county--(in the discharge of the
duties of this office, by the way, he used to march through the streets
of the shire-town, during court term, arrayed in a gown and bag wig, at
the head of his _posse comitatus_, greatly to his own amusement and that
of his friends)--and remarkable for the most urbane and diffusive
hospitality. After he ceased to be the _Great Unknown_, or rather, after
he was identified with that celebrity, Abbotsford became the resort of
innumerable visitors, attracted thither by curiosity, interest, or
friendship. Not only his beautiful residence, but the numerous points
of scenery and the superb ruins in the neighborhood of Abbotsford, which
had been rendered classic by his magic pen, were to be inspected by
these guests, and Scott always seemed to have time for a gallop among
the hills, an excursion to Dryburgh and Melrose Abbey, a pilgrimage
along the banks of the romantic river he has helped to immortalize, or a
lively chat with the ladies after dinner. And he never had that air of
pre-occupation that so often characterizes literary men, in general
society. He took part in the most genial and hearty manner, in the
conversation of the moment, bringing his full quota to the common stock
of mirth, anecdote and jest. I can almost see him, as I write, sitting
in the midst of a social circle, in his drawing-room, trotting the
curly-pated little son of Mrs. Hemans, who was at Abbotsford on a visit,
with her sister and this child, upon his _strong_ knee, and singing,
"Charley my darling, my darling, Charley my darling,"