In one of the border States of the South, in the midst of a romantic
scenery, is situated the village of Bella Vista. Being connected by
railway with a number of populous towns, it had become a place of resort
during the season of summer for persons who desired to exchange the
sultry atmosphere of cities for the cool breezes, shady groves, and pure
fountains of this delightful retreat.
In the village had been erected a commodious hotel, which, during the
months of summer, was filled with guests. The proprietor, desirous of
contributing to the enjoyment of his patrons, had arranged for
semi-weekly hops, which were attended not only by the inmates of the
hotel, but by families from the village and from the surrounding
country.
The two young lawyers, Toney Belton and Tom Seddon, the former a
resident of the town of Mapleton, in an adjoining county of the State,
and the latter a citizen of Bella Vista, entered the ball-room soon
after the musicians had sounded a prelude to the poetry of motion. As
they moved through the crowd they were met by a handsome young man who
extended his hand to each.
"Why, Clarence, my dear fellow," said Toney, "I am glad to see you.
What! are you not dancing? Where is the lovely Miss Carrington? You will
be accused of----"
The young man turned hastily away before Toney could complete his
sentence; and the next moment he was seen standing in a corner of the
room gazing at a beautiful girl with an indescribable look of
indignation. The young lady was apparently listening to an ill-favored
man who was talking to her with immense volubility. She smiled very
pleasantly on her uncomely admirer and never once looked at Clarence
Hastings.
"Just as I told you," said Toney. "Hostilities have already commenced.
Look at Clarence Hastings yonder! He has a small thunder-cloud on his
brow, and is directing the lightning from his eyes in incessant flashes
at the cruel Claribel."
"I was observing him," said Seddon. "What is the matter with the man? He
looks as if he were meditating homicide, or suicide, or something of the
sort. What has Claribel done to him?"
"Declined to dance with him, I suppose. See! she has selected one of the
most fascinating men in the room to be his rival."
"The man she was just talking to, and with whom she is now dancing? He a
rival of the handsome Clarence Hastings? Why, he is as ugly as a Hindoo
idol! Who is he? What is his name?"
"Botts--Ned Botts. He lives in my town, whence he has just arrived in
company with Sam Perch, William Wiggins, and M. T. Pate, Esq., the
latter a distinguished lawyer of Mapleton. These four gentlemen are here
on a lady-killing expedition. General Taylor has recently disposed of a
multitude of Mexicans at Buena Vista, and my fellow-townsmen expect to
make great havoc at Bella Vista."
"That ungainly creature a lady-killer? And yet, by Jove! Claribel smiles
on him as if she really admired him. Who is this man Botts?
"He is the ugly man who once tried to run away from his own shadow. Did
you never hear the story?"
"No. How was it?"
"Botts had been with a number of boon-companions at a tavern in
Mapleton, and had put himself in an abnormal condition by the
consumption of a considerable quantity of fluids. As you see, he is no
Adonis when sober; but when inebriated, his ugly visage would endanger
the safety of a mirror at the distance of twelve paces. In the afternoon
he was standing in the street alone when he happened to see his own
shadow, and was so startled by its unexampled ugliness that he made a
tremendous leap to the right. The hideous apparition made a dart after
him. Botts jumped to the left; but the frightful spectre sprang at him
again."
"Ha, ha, ha! Toney, you will murder me!"
"Botts had often heard that drunken men would sometimes have _delirium
tremens_, and see devils. He thought _delirium_ was coming on him, and
that his ugly shadow was a fiend."
"No wonder! no wonder! What did he do?"
"He uttered a yell that set all the dogs in the town to barking, and
took to his heels up the street. Each time he looked around he beheld a
horrible devil following him, and at the sight he would give another
yell, and redouble his efforts to escape. Soon half the men and boys in
the town were after him. Away went Botts, and brought up at a doctor's
shop. He fell on the floor in a fit, and it was a long time before he
could be restored to consciousness. His ugly shadow had nearly been the
death of him."
"And you will be the death of me, if you tell any more such stories. But
who is that large man, with the bald head, who is jumping about among
the dancers with a bunch of flowers in his hand? He has no partner but
seems to be exercising his legs in sympathy with those who are really
dancing. No! I was mistaken,--he has a partner, but the lady's pretty
figure is so small that I could only see the top of her head, which is
covered with scarlet verbenas and a profusion of roses; and I was under
the illusion that the big man was going it alone with a magnificent
bouquet in his grasp. Toney, do tell me, who is that man? He seems to be
a great admirer of beauty, and has been flitting about among the ladies
like a large bumble-bee in search of the sweetest and most delicious
flowers."
"That is M. T. Pate, a distinguished lawyer, an eloquent orator, an able
writer, a profound thinker, and the prince of lady-killers. He is
possessed of a very original genius, and has recently written a
remarkable pamphlet, in which is demonstrated the possibility as well as
the immense importance of draining the Atlantic Ocean, and converting
its rich alluvial bottoms into cultivated corn-fields."
"How does he propose to accomplish this stupendous undertaking?"
"By constructing a number of enormous steam-pumps at the Isthmus of
Panama, and forcing the water into the Pacific. He says that when this
great work is once accomplished, the inexhaustible soil now lying
entirely useless under the water will afford a comfortable support for
countless millions of men; and that the incalculable amount of gold,
silver, and precious jewels which have gone down in the vast number of
vessels that have foundered at sea will more than defray the cost of
this magnificent enterprise. Pate has sent a copy of his pamphlet to the
learned professors of one of our universities, who now have it under
consideration. In the mean while he has abundant leisure to devote
himself to the ladies, by whom he is much admired. But, Tom, has not
Wiggins caused you to become acquainted with the green-eyed monster?"
"Who is Wiggins?"
"The man who is dancing with pretty Ida Somers. He has devoted himself
to her during the entire evening. Beware of jealousy, Tom! Let there not
be a demand for coffee and pistols in the morning."
"Pshaw! Nonsense, Toney! Ida and I are good friends--nothing more--when
old Crabstick, her uncle, will allow us to talk to one another--which is
but seldom. But is Wiggins the individual with the enormous red nose?"
"The same. You have a formidable rival, Tom. In my town he is admired
for his comeliness, and is known by the name of Rosebud."
"A curious name for one of the masculine gender! How did he acquire it?"
"Why, it seems that on a sultry day in June, this worthy citizen having
done ample honors to the god of the grape, was reposing under a tree on
a fragrant bed of clover, when an industrious bee, foraging among the
flowers, espied his crimson proboscis, and supposing it to be a Bourbon
rose, alighted upon it, in the vain expectation of extracting honey for
the hive. While the busy insect was endeavoring to distill sweets from
this extraordinary nose, the sleeper became conscious of a tickling
sensation, and shook his head in disapproval of the futile attempt;
whereat the irritable little creature darted out its sting, and Wiggins
leaped up with an outcry and vigorously rubbed his nasal protuberance.
This scene was witnessed by some wags, who were convulsed with laughter.
The nose soon began to swell, and, becoming more deeply crimson, it
looked like a rose about to burst into full bloom. Since his nap among
the clover, Wiggins has been called Rosebud by his boon-companions."
"By Jove! what a magnificent woman!"
This exclamation was uttered in a half whisper by Seddon as a tall,
dark-eyed woman, with a beauty that baffled description, moved across
the room, with fifty pair of eyes following her in admiration.
"Imogen Hazlewood?" said Belton.
"Poor Harry!" said Seddon.
"He is deserving of your sympathy," said Toney. "Look! he is now
approaching her with the awe and timidity of a man about to converse
with a goddess, such as we used to read of in the classic hexameters of
Ovid or Virgil. _Oh, dea certa!_ It won't do, Tom! it won't do!"
"What won't do?"
"For a man to let a woman see that he is dead in love with her. 'What
careth she for hearts when once possessed?' Not a fig, Tom! not a fig.
Carry your love about you like a concealed weapon. Don't let her know
anything about it until you pop the question. Pop it at her when she
don't expect it, and she will fall into your arms as if she had received
a pistol-shot,--
Do proper homage to thine idol's eyes,
But not too humbly, or she will despise
Thee and thy suit, though told in moving tropes,
and, turning her back on you, as Imogen has done now on Harry Vincent,
will walk off on the arm of some fellow like Sam Perch."
"Sam Perch? Do you mean the tall youth with a freckled face and a head
of hair so fiery red that it looks like a small edition of a burning
bush? What a remarkable head!"
"It is a celebrated head. There was once a lawsuit about that head, and
I was counsel for the defendant."
"A lawsuit about the young man's head?"
"Yes, a very extraordinary forensic controversy, which attracted much
attention, and in which I established my professional reputation by
defeating my distinguished friend M. T. Pate, who appeared as the
plaintiff's counsel."
"Toney, do you pretend to tell me that anybody ever went to law about
that fellow's head? How did such a suit originate?"
"Why, you must know, Tom, that there is a curious tale attached to that
young man's head."
"So there is to the head of a Chinaman."
"No punning on people's cocoanuts, Mr. Seddon! But hear the history of
this very remarkable lawsuit. On a cold evening in December, Perch was
in a certain house in Mapleton, making himself agreeable to some young
ladies, when they commenced tittering to such a degree that he was at
first highly flattered, supposing that their merriment was produced by
his numerous attempts at witticisms. At length these demonstrations of
mirth became uncontrollable, and Perch, glancing at a large mirror
opposite, was suddenly struck dumb with confusion."
"At the image of his handsome self?"
"A mischief-loving young girl had taken her station behind him and was
holding her hands over his red head, and rubbing them, as if she were
enjoying the warmth of a blazing fire."
"It would hardly be necessary to invoke the aid of imagination for that
purpose. This room begins to feel hotter with that fellow's red head
carried about in it like a brasier of live coals. But go on."
"Perch was horrified at the revelations of the mirror. He rushed from
the house in a fit of desperation."
"To put his burning bush under a pump?"
"Thoroughly disgusted with his red hair, he consulted a barber, who
undertook, for an adequate pecuniary consideration, to impart to it a
sable hue, by the application of certain dyes. Perch left the shop with
a fine suit of black hair, as glossy as the plumage on the bosom of a
raven; but in the afternoon of the following day the color was suddenly
and mysteriously changed to a pea-green. He was on a promenade at the
time, and, not being aware of this sudden and remarkable metamorphosis,
he encountered the same young ladies and escorted them home. But when he
entered the house and laid aside his hat, his head looked very much like
an early York cabbage. Self-control was out of the question. The mirth
of the young maidens was so immoderate that they almost went into
convulsions, and the graceful and accomplished youth hurried away,
boiling with indignation. Upon consulting his mirror, he perceived his
dreadful condition. He passed a sleepless night in intense agony. Next
day he barricaded his door and was not to be seen. He remained for a
whole week in solitary confinement, brooding over his misfortune. The
unhappy youth finally became hypochondriacal, and you know that while in
this condition the mind is often under the dominion of sad and
unaccountable illusions."
"I am aware of that. Our housekeeper once imagined she was a teapot, and
sat for a whole day with one arm akimbo, as the handle, and the other
projected from her person to represent the spout. She gave a vast deal
of trouble, and was continually admonishing the servants not to come
near her lest they might upset her and break her to pieces. And only
last winter old Crabstick got a strange notion in his head that he was a
dog. One day, when I called to see Ida, he got down on all fours and
barked obstreperously, and bit Scipio, his negro man, on the calf of his
leg. I had to leave the house in a hurry to escape from his canine
ferocity."
"The illusion of Perch was equally as extraordinary. After brooding over
his misfortune for a whole week, he imagined he was a donkey."
"Imagined he was a donkey?"
"Yes; a monstrous donkey."
"Was it all imagination, Toney?"
"Be that as it may; I know that he created much annoyance among the
neighbors; for he commenced braying in a most extraordinary manner. His
friends gathered around him and endeavored to reason him out of his
unhappy delusion, but all to no purpose, for he had got the idea in his
head that he was a prodigious jackass, and the more they talked to him
the more loudly he would bray. He refused his natural food, and demanded
to be led to the stable, that he might have a manger, and be fed on
provender suitable for animals of the asinine species. The doctors had
much trouble with him, and tried various remedies without any apparent
good result. They finally determined to drench him with strong brandy,
and the potency of this fluid soon restored him to a more happy
condition of body and mind. He recovered, and sent for the distinguished
lawyer, M. T. Pate, and by his advice brought suit against the barber,
laying the damages at one thousand dollars."
"For what?"
"For injury done to the young man's head. The barber was dreadfully
frightened at the prospect of a ruinous litigation, and solicited my
professional services. M. T. Pate exerted himself to the utmost, and, in
a carefully prepared and eloquent speech, endeavored to demonstrate to
the jury how great an injury had been done to his client's head; at the
same time denouncing the author of the outrage in terms of unmeasured
vituperation. But his efforts were of no avail, for I was prepared with
the proof, and had put more than a dozen witnesses on the stand, all of
whom swore that the young man looked much better with his head of a
pea-green color than he did when it was of a fiery red. In consequence
of this testimony the jury came to the conclusion that the plaintiff had
sustained no injury and was entitled to no damages. They rendered a
verdict in favor of the defendant, and M. T. Pate's client not only had
to pay the costs of the suit, but went by the name of the 'LONG GREEN
BOY' ever afterwards."
"Mr. Belton, I am exceedingly glad to see you," said a tall, raw-boned
man, with a keen, dark eye, a Roman nose, and a swarthy visage.
"Mr. Seddon," said Toney, "let me introduce you to Captain Bragg, a
famous traveler, who has seen more of this terrestrial globe than we
have ever read of."
Seddon shook hands with the distinguished cosmopolite, and remarked that
the weather was extremely hot.
"Hot!" said Bragg. "My dear sir, do you call it hot? You should have
been with me when I was once invited by her Majesty the Queen of
Madagascar to a royal feast. As we sat at table under an awning, huge
pieces of the most delicious beef were served up, which had been roasted
by being exposed to the vertical rays of a tropical sun. That was what I
would call hot weather, Mr. Seddon. But, by the powers of mud! what is
that?"
A loud noise and trampling of feet were heard in the hall. The door flew
open, and women shrieked and men stood aghast, as a horrible apparition
entered the ball-room. It seemed like an ugly demon with two heads. The
monster rushed among the dancers, howling and screeching, and creating
the most extraordinary confusion. Ladies, with loud cries, clung to
their partners for protection, as with unearthly yells the two-headed
monster rushed around. All seemed to lose presence of mind except Toney
Belton, who tripped up the heels of the hideous intruder, and it fell on
the floor. Then was witnessed a fearful conflict. While the women
scampered away, and ran screaming through the hall, the men gathered
around, and soon recognized the belligerents. It was Ned Botts, engaged
in a hand-to-hand encounter with a gigantic and ferocious monkey
belonging to Captain Bragg. The creature had escaped from confinement
and had perched itself on the stairway in the hall. As Botts, after
having enjoyed a mint-julep, was returning from the refreshment-room, it
sprang upon his shoulders and seized him by the hair. Terrible was the
combat between Botts and the monkey. Each made the most ugly grimaces
and exhibited the most deadly ferocity. Botts grappled his antagonist by
the throat, and the fight would have ended in a tragedy had not Bragg
interfered.
Maddened with passion, Botts sprang to his feet and put himself in a
boxing attitude, whereupon Bragg knocked him down. The gentlemen present
now interposed, and Botts was carried off, loudly vociferating, and
swearing vengeance against Bragg and his monkey.