sincerely grateful.'
'Well, well, we wont speak of that; only reflect on what I have just said;
and by the way,' added he, rising to go, 'you must oblige me in another
matter. Two or three friends are to dine with me to-morrow; you and Kate
must be of the party.'
'We will,' was the reply.
'Good! Now go up stairs and comfort Kate.'
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE.
A bright glowing day was the following one, the day of the dinner party;
and right gladly did the golden sun beam out from the deep fathomless sky,
as if from his lofty look-out he were aware of what was going on in this
world below, and rejoiced in the failure of the evil machinations which
had been so long disturbing the tranquillity of the worthy individuals who
have figured in this history. And fortunate it was that neither clouds nor
rain obscured his face, for had the latter been added to the cares which
the approaching dinner-party had already accumulated upon the culinary
department of Harson's household, the house-keeper in the tall cap with
stiff ribbons would have gone stark-mad. Miserable woman! how she worked
and fumed, and panted and tugged, and kneaded and rolled, and stuffed and
seasoned, and skewered and basted, and beat, on that day! From soup to
dessert and from dessert to soup, over and over again, she toiled; fish,
flesh, fowl, vegetables, gravies, were all mingled in her head
helter-skelter. She had dreamed of nothing else during the whole of the
previous night, excepting a short interlude in the aforesaid dream, when
she was night-mared by a fat pig, bestrode by a half-starved boy, who was
all eyes. And now, as the day waned and the hour of the dinner approached,
her ferment increased, until, to use a metaphor, she had worked herself up
into a mental lather. Her voice was in every quarter, and so was her
quick, hurried step. She was in the entry, up stairs, in the pantry, in
the kitchen and in the cellar; at the street-door giving orders to the
grocer's dirty boy to bring the cinnamon and allspice, and not to forget
the sugar and butter, and to be sure to recollect the anchovies and
pickles. The next moment she was scolding the butcher, because he had been
late with the chops and cutlets; and every five minutes she thrust her
head into the room to look at the clock, lest Time should steal a march
upon her. Eleven, twelve, one, two o'clock. The tumult increased. Mrs.
Chowles, punctual to her promise, made her appearance; forthwith dived
into the kitchen, and did not emerge until dinner-time. The only person
utterly unmoved was Harson, who had attended to his part of the business
by looking after the wine, and who now sat with his feet to the fire,
resolved to trouble his head about nothing, and apparently more asleep
than awake. At times, however, he rose and went to one corner of the room,
where a small boy who seemed to be worn down by suffering, lay coiled up
and sound asleep on a chair-cushion. The old man bent over him, gently
parted the hair from his forehead, and then rising up, somewhat red in the
face from the exertion, rubbed his hands one over the other by way of
indicating that all was as it should be; stole back to his seat on tiptoe,
lest he should awaken him, and forthwith relapsed into his former state of
dreamy abstraction. Nothing could arouse him; not even the house-keeper
when she dashed into the room with a face at roasting heat, and demanded
the key of the wine-cellar. It was handed to her mechanically, and
mechanically pocketed when she brought it back.
But the hour of dinner drew near; and a smell began to pervade the house
which aroused Harson at last. He sat up in his chair and smacked his lips;
and Spite, who for an undue curiosity as to the contents of a small pasty,
exhibited early in the day, had been escorted into the room by the
house-keeper aided by a broomstick, sat under the same chair licking his
lips and slavering profusely.
Again the red face of the house-keeper was projected in the room, and as
instantly withdrawn. It wanted half an hour to the time. In and out again;
it wanted twenty-five minutes. In and out again; twenty minutes. The
matter was growing serious, and there was something frantic in her looks.
But this time Harson caught her, and told her that it was time to put an
end to that performance, as he expected his friends every minute; that she
must guess as to the time; and that he would ring when she was to serve
the dinner.
A rap at the door! and before it could be answered, a heavy step crossed
the ante-chamber.
'There's Frank,' said Harson, rising and facing the door; and in came the
doctor. But he was not alone; for close behind him followed Ned Somers,
dressed in his best. Harry shook hands with them; but before he had time
to do more than that, Jacob Rhoneland entered with Kate on his arm,
looking very rosy from her walk.
What could it be that caused Ned's heart to flounce and dance about as
wildly as a caged bird; and his cheek to grow at first pale, and then
burning hot; and his lips to quiver, and his voice to tremble so that he
could scarcely speak; and for a moment was unable even to tell Kate that
he was glad to see her? Whatever the complaint was, it was infectious; for
Kate's heart certainly did beat very rapidly; and her color went and came,
until it settled into a deep burning blush, as she turned and saw Ned
there, looking at her as if he had eyes for nothing else.
'Good morning Mr. Somers,' said she, at last, in a tone that was neither
firm nor clear.
'Call me Ned, Kate,' said he in a low voice; 'don't say _Mr._ Somers. Wont
you shake hands with me? There can be no harm in that.' He extended his
hand; she placed hers in it, and at the same time whispered in his ear,
(for Harry, seeing that there was some by-play going on, kept Jacob busy,)
'Speak to father as if nothing had happened. I think he's inclined to make
up. _Do_, Ned.'
Turning from him, she commenced talking to the Doctor, while Somers, after
a moment's hesitation, went up to the old man and offered his hand.
Rhoneland hesitated, for he experienced the reluctance which old age
always evinces to succumb to those younger in years; and it was not very
pleasant to admit that his conduct toward Ned had been wrong. But there
was something in the expression of Ned's face, and even in the way in
which he offered his hand, which showed that the past was forgiven; and
beside that, what had already happened could not be mended by holding out;
so Jacob grasped his hand, and said frankly:
'Ned, my young friend, I wronged thee sadly. I hope you will pardon it.'
'That's right, Jacob! Spoken like a whole-hearted old fellow, as you are!'
exclaimed Harson, patting him on the shoulder. 'To be sure he will forgive
you, and thank you for the chance. If he doesn't he's not what I take him
to be. Don't you pardon him?' demanded he, turning to Somers, and at the
same time casting a quizzical look in the direction of Kate.
Ned laughed; said something about pardon being unnecessary, where no
offence had been taken; and then commenced talking about indifferent
matters.
Presently Holmes came in; and after him Grosket; and one or two cronies of
Harson's; and then the little girl; so that the room became quite full.
The boy too, aroused by the noise of talking, awoke; stared wildly around
him, and though a boy of genteel lineage, evinced a great distaste to
mingling in society; and fought manfully to retain his position in the
corner, when Harson attempted to lead him out. His sister endeavored, in
an undertone, to impress upon him the propriety of adapting his manners to
the change in his situation; but it must be confessed that her success was
but indifferent; and it is a matter of some doubt whether he would ever
have emerged, had not a tall, awkward boy, (a second cousin of the
housekeeper, and apprenticed to a tailor,) who had been borrowed to
officiate as waiter on this eventful occasion, thrust his head in the door
and remarked, 'Cousin Martha says you may come to dinner just as quick as
you like,' and forthwith disappeared, slamming the door after him, and
clattering across the entry as if shod with paving-stones.
This aroused the company; and this too emboldened the small boy, who being
restrained by his sister from rushing in the room before any one else,
nevertheless crowded in, and secured a seat at the table, opposite the
best dish.
What a sight! A table loaded with fish and flesh and fowl; glittering and
glowing with cleanliness; linen as white as snow, and plates and dishes
that glistened and shone until you could see your face in them, while the
steam alone, which arose from each of them, might have made a lean man
fat; and then there were the decanters too, in which the ruby wine
sparkled, until it made even Dick Holmes smack his lips.
'Aha!' ejaculated one of the neighbors, a thin, hungry fellow, with large
eyes; 'aha!' And he snuffed up the dinner as if he intended to appropriate
it all, and as if, mistaking the table and its contents for a snuff-box,
he supposed his nose to be the only member destined to play a part there.
Harry paused at the head of his table, and said a short grace; and then
seizing a carving knife, he plunged it forthwith into the fat saddle:
right merrily the red gravy spirted out; and as he drew the knife along
the bone, and cut out the long strips, the steam and savor filling the
room, it was to be feared that the thin neighbor would have gone beside
himself, lest his pet piece should be given to some one else before his
turn came. But such a dinner as graced that table is a thing to be eaten,
not spoken of; and so thought the small boy, who notwithstanding his
genteel extraction, brought with him the appetite which he had acquired by
education. A dreadful havoc he made in that fat saddle! It was labor lost
for his sister to kick and pinch him under the table, in hopes of checking
his course. He kicked backed again, but could not pinch; his hands were
too busy. What eyes he had for the meats and gravies! what a deaf ear he
turned to all invitations to waste his energies on bread and vegetables,
or trifles of that sort! His appetite, though belonging to a child, was
full grown, and needed no assistance. All that he required was
quantity--and he got it.
'Help yourself, my son,' said Harson, actually growing hungry by seeing
the child eat. 'Don't spare any thing.'
The boy looked up at him, and said nothing. He was a fellow of few words,
but of great action; and for one of six years of age, he was a phenomenon;
and displayed a capacity which would have done credit to a man or a
barrel.
The first course went off, and so did a second and third. Martha had
excelled herself; a cooking-stove was nothing to her. Everything was
praised; and at every fresh eulogy, the tall boy was missing from his
attendance on the table. He had darted to the kitchen, to communicate the
intelligence to his aunt. How _he_ enjoyed that party! how he skimmed his
fingers round the plates, as he took them through the entry; sucking the
ends of them so loudly, that his aunt thought that corks were flying out
of the porter-bottles! He was perfectly happy. One thing alone puzzled
him; that was the knotty question why people couldn't eat every thing off
the same plate.
It was remarked, that when the dinner was over, some of the guests were
uncommonly mellow; and it is credibly asserted, that Dick Holmes, who had
spent his life among parchment and cobwebs, had during the meal buried his
mouth in the bosom of his own waistcoat, and had there been heard
confidentially singing to himself a short song of an Anacreontic
character. But be that as it may, when he rose from the table, his eye
certainly was a little lively, and his spirits were high. Nor was there
any flagging among the rest; for whether the jests were good or bad, or
the songs poor, or the conversation common-place, certain it is, that a
more jovial set had never met. Every one seemed to have been placed beside
the person who suited him; Harry sat with Jacob on one side of him, and
the widow at the head of the table, with the Doctor at her right hand; and
Dick Holmes and Grosket together; and Ned and Kate, so close that their
elbows touched; and Annie beside her brother; and her brother, although
somewhat incommoded by his sister, directly opposite the fattest part of
the saddle of mutton! And then the one or two neighbors, who knew no one
except each other, seated in a knot, contrived to grow moist and merry,
because the others did, and laughed because Harry did. Choice spirits! who
could split their very sides, without a joke to abet them in it; weren't
they the fellows to help out a dinner party?
When they separated, it was late at night. The doctor gallantly
volunteered to escort the widow to her abode, which offer was accepted
without hesitation. Harry remarked that as it was a fine night, he thought
he would walk too.
'Come, Jacob, you and I will go together,' said he, taking the old man by
the arm; 'and Ned, you look after Kate. No grumbling, but make yourself
useful.' Saying this, he trudged rapidly on, dragging the old man with
him.
What passed between him and Jacob, or what took place between Ned and
Kate, I cannot say; but they certainly were the two tardiest people that
ever walked; for long after Harson and Rhoneland had reached the end of
their journey, and stood waiting in front of Rhoneland's door, they were
not in sight; and when they did at last appear, it seemed a perfect
eternity before they were within calling distance; and then even longer
before they reached to the door. And although from the pace at which they
had come, it might have been argued that one or the other of them was
laboring under extreme debility or fatigue, yet it was a remarkable fact,
that the looks of neither justified such a conclusion; for Kate appeared
uncommonly lively and buoyant, and Ned seemed as if he only required two
fiddlers and a tambourine to perform his part in an imaginary quadrille in
the street.
'What idlers you are!' exclaimed Harry, as they came up! 'As for you,'
said he, turning to Ned, 'such a loiterer should be trusted to escort no
one unless it were his grandmother or a rheumatic old lady of seventy.'
Ned Somers laughed, as he answered: 'We don't all walk as rapidly as you
do.'
'The more shame for you,' exclaimed Harson. 'Upon my life! I believe I'm
younger than any of you. Look to yourself, my lad, or I may take it into
my head to cut you out of a wife; and if you lose her, you won't require
the snug little legacy which I intend to leave you when I'm under ground.
Come; shake hands with the girl, and bid her good night: you've kept her
in the street long enough. Good night, Jacob--Good night, Kate.'
He took her hand, and whispered, 'Be of good heart; your father is coming
round.'
His mouth was very near her ear; and as he whispered, Ned happened to be
looking at them, and thought that the communication did not stop with the
whisper; and Harson himself looked very wickedly up at him, as much as to
say: 'Do you see that?--you had better have a sharp eye to your
interests!'
Long and earnest was the conversation which ensued between Harson and
Somers on their way home; and nobly did the character of that old man
shine out, as he detailed his future views for his young friend's welfare.
'You need not thank me,' said he, in reply to Ned's warm acknowledgments.
'The best return that I can have will be, to find you always in word and
deed such that I may be proud of you; and hereafter, when I see others
looking up to you, and hear you spoken of as one whose character is above
all reproach, that I may say to myself: 'Thank God, I helped to make him
what he is.' This is all that I want, Ned; and your future life will be
your best acknowledgment, or will prove your heartless ingratitude. Let
neither success nor failure tempt you to swerve from what your own heart
tells you to be right and fair. Turn out as your schemes may, never forget
to keep your motives pure; and believe me, that come what will, you'll
find an easy conscience a great comforter in the hour of trial. Your
father was one of my oldest friends; a noble upright man he was; and it
would have wounded him deeply that any one belonging to him should have
been otherwise; and it would give me many a heavy hour if his only child
did not turn out all that I expect him to be. I am right glad to learn
that you are getting bravely on in your business; and as for this matter
with Kate,' said he, pausing, for they had come to where their routes
separated, 'it can easily be made right. I love her as my own child; and I
would not have her thwarted for the world. I'll see Jacob again to-morrow;
and have no doubt that he will give his consent at last. Perhaps it would
be better for you not to present yourself at his house too soon. Work your
way back to where you were, cautiously, and say nothing to him about
marrying Kate, until you and he are on your old terms of good fellowship.
It wont be long, depend on it: and now, recollect what I told you a few
moments ago. If you want any assistance in your business, or if a loan of
a thousand or two dollars, or a good word from me, will push you on, you
shall have it. Good night!' And Harson had not gone a hundred yards,
before he was whistling so loud that he might have been heard half a mile.
'God help you, Harry!' muttered Somers, looking after the stout, burly
figure of his friend; 'God bless your warm old heart! What a glorious
world this would be, if there were more in it like you!'
LITERARY NOTICES.
NARRATIVE OF THE TEXAN SANTA FE EXPEDITION: Comprising a description
of a Tour through Texas, and across the great South-western prairies,
the Camanche and Cayguea Hunting-grounds, with an account of the
suffering from want of food, losses from hostile Indians, and final
capture of the Texans, and their march as prisoners to the city of
Mexico. By GEORGE WILKINS KENDALL. In two volumes. New-York: HARPER
AND BROTHERS.
This is by far the most racy and interesting book of travels we have read
for a long time. Every body is of course acquainted with the general
history of the expedition; its romantic projects, its speedy defeat, and
the calamitous sufferings which its members were forced to undergo. But
ill-fated as it was, the rich and most amusing personal incident with
which every step of its progress appears from this book to have been
crowded, commends it most forcibly to our admiration. We cannot say that
we should have been quite willing to accompany our friend KENDALL through
all the severities of his adventurous journey; nor can we refuse our
sincere sympathy with him and his brave companions, in the terrible scenes
through which they passed. But he has told all these adventures in so
pleasing and interesting a manner, and has so sprinkled through the
narrative sketches of personal incident, abounding with wit and humor,
that the volumes must be read with a delight as keen as the sufferings
recorded were real and severe. Mr. KENDALL writes in a style admirably
adapted to the narration of just such a history as he has given; it is
simple and clear, aiming at nothing more than to give a plain statement of
actual occurrences; and yet it is remarkably spirited, and distinguished
at times by great felicity of expression. He is a capital traveller, never
shrinking from any danger or difficulty, close in his observation, and
gifted with a love of fun, and a 'touch' of humor which no extremity,
however terrible or threatening, can wholly repress. The reader of the
work must be continually surprised at the repeated instances which occur
where this disposition is strongly manifested; and while it must have
relieved to a considerable degree the sufferings which he was forced to
undergo, it gives to the book increased and attractive interest. We should
be glad to follow Mr. KENDALL through his journey, and present copious
extracts from the account he has given of its progress and incidents; but
this our limits will not allow; and we can only glance at the general
history of the expedition, and copy a tithe of the passages we have marked
in reading the two excellent volumes he has given us.
At the opening of his book, Mr. KENDALL gives us a statement of the
motives which induced him to join the expedition, and an introduction to
the persons of whom it was composed. His purposes, of course, were
entirely pacific, growing out of a desire to recruit his health, a wish to
procure new materials for writing, and a love of adventure in general. He
took care to provide himself with passports from the Mexican authorities,
which he naturally supposed would protect him, as an American citizen,
from molestation and injury. The first part of their journey led them over
the vast prairies and hunting grounds of Western Texas; and their
adventurous progress is admirably sketched in his flowing narrative. Their
exploits in hunting buffalo; their frights from, and encounters with, the
wild Indians; their serenades from the wolves, and all the incidents by
which a journey of so large a troop over ground before almost untrodden,
would naturally be distinguished, are most graphically and humorously
described. We copy the following interesting description of a _stampede_,
or flight of terror, with which great numbers of horses or oxen are
sometimes seized, with a humorous sketch of the exploits in this line, of
one of the nags of the expedition:
'Nothing can exceed the grandeur of the scene when a large
_cavallada_, or drove of horses, takes a 'scare.' Old,
weather-beaten, time-worn, and broken-down steeds--horses that
have nearly given out from hard work and old age--will at once be
transformed into wild and prancing colts. When first seized with
that indescribable terror which induces them to fly, they seem to
have been suddenly endowed with all the attributes of their
original wild nature. With heads erect, tails and manes streaming
in air, eyes lit up and darting beams of fright, old and jaded
hacks will be seen prancing and careering about with all the
buoyancy of action which characterizes the antics of young colts;
then some one of the drove, more frightened than the rest, will
dash off in a straight line, the rest scampering after him, and
apparently gaining fresh fears at every jump. The throng will then
sweep along the plain with a noise which may be likened to
something between a tornado and an earthquake, and as well might
feeble man attempt to arrest either of the latter.
'Were the earth rending and cleaving beneath their feet, horses,
when under the terryfying influence of a _stampede_, could not
bound away with greater velocity or more majestic beauty of
movement. I have seen many an interesting race, but never any
thing half so exciting as the flight of a drove of frightened
horses. The spectator, who may possibly have a nag among them
which he has been unable to get into a canter by dint of spur and
whip, sees his property fairly flying away at a pace that a
thorough-bred racer might envy. Better 'time,' to all appearance,
he has never seen made, and were it not that he himself is as much
astounded as the horses, there might be very pretty betting upon
the race.
'On one occasion, when a closely-hobbled horse was rushing madly
along the prairie under the influence of fright, his owner coolly
remarked: 'I wish I could make that critter go as fast on my own
account without hobbles, as he can on his own with them--I'd
gamble on him _sure_.' And so it is. No simile can give the reader
a fair conception of the grandeur of the spectacle, and the most
graphic arrangement of words must fall far short in describing the
startling and imposing effect of a regular _stampede_!
'While upon this subject, I should not, perhaps, neglect to notice
one of the little private _stampedes_ my friend Falconer's horse
was in the habit of occasionally getting up, principally on his
own individual account and to gratify his own peculiar tastes and
desires, entirely regardless, all the while, of his master's
convenience as well as of the public safety.