Several of the Richmond churches were opened that Sunday night, and
thither repaired many of the Cottonocracy, devotional children of Bale,
to implore Providence in behalf of an army whose heroes have generally
appeared, in the eyes of the Federal troops, to be wholly Leave-ites.
The recent intelligence of "another confederate victory," at
Williamsburg, had added a finishing touch to the panic created by
reports of the triumphal retreat from Yorktown previously received, and
the fervor of Richmond's piety on that evening was eminently worthy of
a city liable at any moment to be cannonized. The reverend clergy of
the rebel capital selected their texts from Exodus by instinct, as it
were, and proved so conclusively that the Yankee invader was no man,
that the listening congregations were impressed with an instructive and
repentant sense of their own wickedness, (for they are the wicked who
invariably flee when "no man" pursueth,) and several members evinced
their new-born disgust at this sinful world by resolutely closing their
eyes upon it at once.
In his pew sat Mr. VICTOR E. ORDETH, with his wife and son, the latter
a member of the Richmond Home Guard. Stiff and erect he sat, like a
solemn note of admiration in a printer's case, ready to be used at the
end of any sounding passages, suffering an expression of weighty
approval to cross his countenance when the preacher hoped the same
planets might not thereafter be destined to shine on the North and the
South.
And well he might; for there had been something in the late capture of
New Orleans and other ports by the Union fleets to impress the Southern
mind with no small dread of the North's tar.
LIBBY remained at home under plea of sick-headache; but no sooner were
her parents fairly out of the house, than said plea proved to be
entirely invalid. At least, the young lady darted to her own private
room in a very sprightly manner, brought out from thence a small
package, and finally repaired to the apartment wherein Mr. BOB PETERS
kept solitary vigils and a bright lookout. Before passing in, however,
she paused to have a few words with the faithful JOCKO, whom she
discovered on his knees before the door of the captive's cell, with his
right eye slightly to the left of the knob.
"JOCKO!" she exclaimed, reproachfully, "what are you doing here, you
ridiculous thing?"
"Miss LIBBY," said the humble servitor, looming dimly in the shadow of
the hall as he slowly arose from his feet, "Ise ben prayin' dat you
might become a christian, and one ob these days, when de great
Hallelugerum come, hab wings and a harp."
Scarcely were these affecting words uttered, when Mr. PETERS tore open
the door rather disrespectfully, so greatly discomposing the devoted
black that the latter incontinently fled.
"My dear girl," said BOB, leading his fair visitor into the room, "I'm
delighted to see you. The shutters are up, the gas is lit, and I'm
prepared to do the sentimental. Oh-um-m--Lubin's Extracts!" ejaculated
Mr. BOB PETERS. For he had kissed her.
"There, dear ROBERT, don't be so absurd. You know you are going to
leave us to-night, and I have brought you--" here LIBBY blushed with
that exquisitely ingenuous emotion which is excited by the
consciousness of benefiting one we love--"I have brought you some
things that may be of use on your journey. You won't be angry with me
for it, will you, dear BOB? There's a smoking cap, and a pair of
crochet slippers, and some drawing pencils, and a volume of TUPPER."
"My darling LIBBY!" remarked the deeply affected ROBERT, alighting on
those tempting lips once more. "But did you think, love--did you think
to put a quart of ice-cream and a few hair-pins in the package?"
"Why, no."
"Ah, well," said Mr. BOB PETERS, abstractedly, "I suppose I can buy
them on the road."
Silence, disturbed only by the beating of those two hearts, reigned for
a few seconds, then--
"BOB," said LIBBY, looking shyly up to him, "we shall be very happy
when we are married and live North?"
"Yes, indeed," said BOB.
"We'll live in such a beautiful house on Fifth Avenue, dear, and have
such nice things. Because, you know, you can make so much money by your
writings."
"Millions! my love," said Mr. BOB PETERS, with sudden and wonderful
quietude of tone. "When I left New York prose was bringing two dollars
for seven pounds in the heavy dailies, and philosophical poetry quoted
at six shillings a yard, and no hexameters allowed except for EMERSON
and HOMER. Ah!" said Mr. PETERS, his melancholy deepening rapidly to
bitterness, "my last poem sickened me. It was called 'Dirge: addressed
to a lady after witnessing the Drama of the "Toodles,"' and commenced
in this way:
'Not all the artist's pow'r can limn,
Nor poet's grander verse disclose,
The plaintive charm that ev'ning dim,
Imparts unto the dying rose.'"
"How pretty!" said LIBBY.
"Yes, my dear," responded Mr. PETERS, somewhat gloomily; "but because I
used 'dim' to rhyme with 'limn,' all the papers credited it to GENERAL
MORRIS."
Recollections of this flagrant piece of injustice so affected Mr. BOB
PETERS, that he smote his breast and called himself a miserable man. "I
really don't know but I'd better stay here and be hung like a
respectable patriot," murmured the desolated young man.
"How absurd!" exclaimed the young lady, "you will be glad enough to get
away to-night. Remember, now, you are to start down stairs at
quarter-past Twelve, precisely, and JOCKO will open the front door for
you. Then go straight to the bridge, where you will find my brother,
who will get you by the guard."
"That reminds me," observed Mr. PETERS, "what time is it? I must set my
repeater."
LIBBY consulted her watch and answered that it was half-past eight,
whereupon Mr. BOB PETERS fished from his fob a vast silver
conglomeration, and having wound it up with a noise like that of a
distant coffee mill, and set it correctly, proceeded to hang it, for
convenient reference, upon the gas-branch across the mirror.
"Dear BOB, good bye."
"Fare thee well, and if for ever, still remember me," responded Mr.
PETERS, with some vagueness.
"We shall meet again?" said LIBBY, lingering.
"If I did not believe it," replied Mr. BOB PETERS, with vehemence, "I
should at once proceed to kill myself at your feet, covering the walls
and furniture of the apartment with my gore."
"God bless you, BOB."
They parted wiping their mouths. Miss ORDETH went down stairs in tears,
had a fit of hysterics on the sofa, and fell asleep with her head in
the card basket.