major bowed almost to the floor, as he gravely requested the honour of
Miss Darnel's hand for the next set,--which he told her he was happy to
say was a country-dance. On her assenting, he expressed his gratitude in
slow and measured terms, and in a manner that showed he had been
studying his speech during his progress across the ball-room.
"Madam," said he, "will you have the goodness to accept my most obliged
thanks for the two honours you are doing me; first, in desiring the
acquaintance of so unworthy an object, and secondly, madam, in agreeing
to dance with me? I have never been so much favoured by so fine a young
lady."
Harriet looked reproachfully at Mr. Wilson for having betrayed to Major
Steifenbiegen her wish for the introduction; but Wilson afterwards took
an opportunity of making her understand that she had nothing to fear;
the field-officer being entirely guiltless of the sin of vanity--as far,
at least, as regarded the ladies.
In a few minutes a fair-haired, slovenly, but rather a handsome young
man, in a citizen's old brown surtout, with an epaulet on his left
shoulder, came up to Major Steifenbiegen, and slapping him on the back,
said, "Well, here I am, just from Washington. I've got a
commission,--you see, I've mounted my epaulet,--and the tailor is making
my uniform. Who's that pretty girl you're going to dance with?" he
added, in a loud whisper.
"Miss Darnel," replied the major, drawing him aside, and speaking in a
tone quite different from that in which he thought proper to address the
ladies.
"Is that her sister beside her--the one that's dressed exactly the
same?"
"I presume so."
"You know it is--she's the prettiest of the two. So introduce me, and I
declare I'll take her out."
"I don't see how you can dance in that long surtout," observed the
major.
"Just as well as you can in those long jack-boots."
"But I'm in full uniform," said the major, "and your dress is neither
one thing nor t'other."
"No matter for that," replied the youth, "I'm old Virginia, and am above
caring about my dress. Haven't I my epaulet on my shoulder, to let
everybody know I'm an officer?--and that's enough. Show me the girl that
wouldn't be willing, any minute, to 'pack up her tatters and follow the
drum.'"
Major Steifenbiegen then introduced to the ladies Lieutenant Tinsley,
who requested Miss Caroline Darnel's hand for the next dance. Caroline,
consoling herself with the idea that _her_ officer, though in an old
brown surtout and dingy Jefferson shoes, was younger and handsomer than
Harriet's major, allowed him, as he expressed it, to carry her to the
dance,--which, he did by tucking her hand under his arm, and walking
very fast; informing her, at the same time, that he was old Virginia.
Major Steifenbiegen respectfully took the tips of Harriet's fingers,
saying, "Madam, I am highly obligated to you for allowing me the
privilege of leading you by the hand to the dance: I consider it a third
honour."
"Then you are three by honours," said Tinsley.
Miss Clements, who was too much fatigued by six sets of cotillions to
undertake the "never-ending, still-beginning country-dance," remained in
her seat, talking to her last partner, and regarding at a distance the
proceedings of her two nieces and their military beaux.
It is well known that during the war of 1812, commissions were sometimes
bestowed upon citizens who proved excellent soldiers, but whose
opportunities of acquiring the polish of gentlemen had been rather
circumscribed. There were really a few such officers as Major
Steifenbiegen and Lieutenant Tinsley.
The Miss Darnels and their partners took their places near the top of
the country-dance. While it was forming, each of the gentlemen
endeavoured to entertain his lady according to his own way--the major by
slowly hammering out a series of dull and awkward compliments, and the
lieutenant by a profusion of idle talk that Caroline laughed at without
knowing why; seasoned as it was with local words and phrases, and with
boastings about that section of the Union which had the honour of being
his birth-place.
"Madam," said the major, "I think it is the duty of an officer--the
bounden duty--to make himself agreeable, that is, to be perpetually
polite, and so forth. I mean we are to be always agreeable to the
ladies, because the ladies are always agreeable to us. Perhaps, madam, I
don't speak loud enough. Madam, don't you think it is the duty of an
officer to be polite and agreeable to the ladies?"
"Certainly," answered Harriet, "of an officer and of all gentlemen."
"Very true, madam," persisted the major, "your sentiments are quite
correct. All gentlemen should be polite to the fair sex, but officers
particularly. Not that I would presume to hint that they ought to be so
out of gratitude, or that ladies are apt to like officers--I have not
that vanity, madam--we are not a vain people--that is, we officers. But
perhaps, madam, my conversation does not amuse you."
"Oh! yes it does," replied Harriet, archly.
"Well, madam, if it doesn't, just mention it to me, and I'll willingly
stop,--the honour of dancing with so fine a young lady is sufficient
happiness."
"Well, Miss," said young Tinsley to Caroline, "you have but a stran_n_ge
sort of dancing here to the north. I can't make out much with your
cotillions. Before one has time to learn the figure by heart they're
over; and as to your sash_a_y and balanj_a_y, I don't know which is
which: I'm not good at any of your French capers--I'm old Virginia. Give
me one of our own up-country reels--'Fire in the mountains,' or 'Possum
up the gum tree,'--I could show you the figure in a minute, with
ourselves and two chears."
The dance had now commenced; and Major Steifenbiegen showed some signs
of trepidation, saying to Miss Darnel, "Madam, will you allow me, if I
may be so bold, to tax your goodness farther by depending entirely on
your kind instructions as to the manoeuvres of the dance. I cannot
say, madam, that I ever was a dancing character--some people are not.
It's a study that I have but lately taken up. But with so fine a young
lady for a teacher, I hope to acquit myself properly. I have been
informed that Rome was not built in a day. Please, madam, to tell me
what I am to do first."
"Observe the gentleman above you," replied Harriet, "and you will see in
a moment."
The major did observe, but could not "catch the idea." The music was
Fisher's Hornpipe, at that time very popular as a country-dance, and
Major Steifenbiegen was at length made to understand that he was first
to go down by himself, outside of the line of gentlemen, and without his
partner, who was to go down on the inside. He set off on his lonely
expedition with rather a _triste_ countenance. To give himself a wide
field, he struck out so far into the vacant part of the room, that a
stranger, entering at the moment, would have supposed that, for some
misdemeanor, he had been expelled from the dance, and was performing a
solitary _pas seul_ by way of penance. His face brightened, however,
when a gentleman, observing that he took no "note of time," kindly
recalled him to his place in the vicinity of Miss Darnel. But his
perplexities were now increased. In crossing hands, he went every way
but the right one, and the confusion he caused, and his formal
apologies, were as annoying to his partner,--who tried in vain to
rectify his mistakes,--as they were diverting to the other ladies. He
ducked his head, and raised his shoulders every time he made a dive at
their hands, lifting his feet high, like the Irishman that "rose upon
sugan, and sunk upon gad."
Harriet could almost have cried with vexation; but the worst was still
to come, and she prepared for the crowning misery of going down the
middle with Major Steifenbiegen. He no longer touched merely the ends of
her fingers, but he grasped both her hands hard, as if to secure her
protection, and holding them high above her head, he blundered down the
dance, running against one person, stumbling over another, and looking
like a frightened fool, while his uniform made him doubly conspicuous.
The smiles of the company were irrepressible, and those at a distance
laughed outright.
When they came to the bottom, Harriet, who was completely out of
patience, declared herself fatigued, and insisted on sitting down; and
the major, saying that it was his duty to comply with every request of
so fine a young lady, led her to Miss Clements, who, though pained at
her niece's evident mortification, had been an amused spectator of the
dance. The major then took his station beside Harriet, fanning her
awkwardly, and desiring permission to entertain her till the next set.
She hinted that it would probably be more agreeable to him to join some
of his friends on the other side of the room; but he told her that he
could not be so ungrateful for the numerous honours she had done him, as
to prefer any society to hers.
In the mean time, Caroline Darnel had fared but little better with
Lieutenant Tinsley; and she was glad to recollect, for the honour of the
army, that he was only an officer of yesterday, and also to hope (as was
the truth) that he was by no means a fair sample of the sons of
Virginia. He danced badly and ridiculously, though certainly not from
embarrassment, romped and scampered, and was entirely regardless of _les
bienséances_.
When they had got to the bottom of the set, and had paused to take
breath, the lieutenant began to describe to Caroline an opossum
hunt--then told her how inferior was the rabbit of Pennsylvania to the
"old yar"[74] of Virginia; and descanted on the excellence of their
corn-bread, bacon, and barbecued chickens. He acknowledged, however,
that "where he was raised, the whole neighbourhood counted on having the
ague every spring and fall."
[Footnote 74: Hare.]
"Then why do they stay there?" inquired Caroline. "I wonder that any
people, who are able to leave it, should persist in living in such a
place."
"Oh! you don't know us at all," replied Tinsley. "We are so used to the
ague, that when it quits us, we feel as if we were parting with an old
friend. As for me, I fit against it for a while, and then gave up;
finding that all the remedies, except mint-juleps, were worse than the
disease. I used to sit upon the _stars_ and shake, wrapped in my big
overcoat, with my hat on, and the capes drawn over my head--I'm old
Virginia."
Like her sister, Caroline now expressed a desire to quit the dance and
sit down, to which her partner assented; and, after conveying her to her
party, and telling her: "There, now, you can say you have danced with an
officer," he wheeled off, adding: "I'll go and get a _cigyar_, and take
a stroll round the _squarr_ with it. There's so much noise here that I
can't do my think."
The major looked astonished at Tinsley's immediate abandonment of a lady
so young and so pretty, and, by way of contrast, was more obsequious
than ever to Harriet, reiterating the request which he had made her as
they quitted the dance, to honour him with her hand for the next set;
telling her that now, having had some practice, he hoped, with her
instructions, to acquit himself better than in the last. Harriet parried
his importunities as adroitly as she could; determined to avoid any
farther exhibition with him, and yet unwilling to sit still, according
to the usual ball-room penalty for refusing the invitation of a
proffered partner.
Both the girls had been thoroughly ashamed of their epauletted beaux,
and had often, during the dance, looked with wistful eyes towards
Messrs. Wilson and Thomson, who were very genteel young men, and very
good dancers, and whose partners--two beautiful girls--seemed very happy
with them.
The major, seeing that other gentlemen were doing so, now departed in
quest of lemonade for the ladies; and, taking advantage of his absence,
Harriet exclaimed: "Oh, Aunt Sophy, Aunt Sophy! tell me what to do--I
cannot dance again with that intolerable man, neither do I wish to be
compelled to sit still in consequence of refusing him. I have paid
dearly for his two epaulets."
"My fool had but one," said Caroline, "and a citizen's coat beside,
therefore my bargain was far worse than yours. I have some hope,
however, that he has no notion of asking me again, and if he has, that
he will not get back from his tour round the _squarr_ before the next
set begins. I wish his cigar was the size of one of those candles, that
he might be the longer getting through with it! Oh! that some one would
ask me immediately!"
"I am sure I wish the same," said Harriet.
At that moment, they were gladdened by the approach of Mr. Harford, a
very ugly little man, whose dancing and deportment were sufficiently
_comme il faut_, and no more. And when he requested Caroline's hand for
the next set, both the girls, in their eagerness, started forward, and
replied: "With pleasure."
Mr. Harford, not appearing to perceive that her sister had also accepted
the invitation, bowed his thanks to Caroline, who introduced him to Miss
Clements. Harriet, recollecting herself, blushed and drew back; while
Sophia, to cover her niece's confusion, entered into conversation with
the gentleman.
Presently, Major Steifenbiegen came up with three or four glasses of
lemonade on a waiter, and a plate piled high with cakes; all of which he
pressed on the ladies with most urgent perseverance, evidently desirous
that they should drain the last drop of the lemonade, and finish the
last morsel of the cakes.
As soon as they had partaken of these refreshments, Mr. Harford led
Caroline to a cotillion that was arranging. While talking to him she
felt some one twitch her sleeve, and turning round she beheld Lieutenant
Tinsley.
"So, miss," said he, "you have given me the slip. Well, I have not been
gone long. My cigyar was not good, so I chuck'd it away in short order;
and I came back, and have been looking all about; but seeing nobody
prettier, I concluded I might as well take you out for this dance also.
However, there's not much harm done, as I suppose you'll have no
objection to dance with me next time; and I'll try to get up a Virginia
reel."
Caroline, much vexed, replied, "I believe I shall dance no more after
this set."
"What! tired already!" exclaimed Tinsley; "it's easy to see you are not
old Virginia."
"I hope so," said Caroline, petulantly.
"Why, that's rather a quare answer," resumed Tinsley, after pondering a
moment till he had comprehended the innuendo; "but I suppose ladies must
be allowed to say what they please. Good evening, miss."
And he doggedly walked off, murmuring, "After all, these Philadelphia
girls are not worth a copper."
When Caroline turned round again, she was delighted to perceive the
glitter of his epaulet amidst a group of young men that were leaving the
room; and the music now striking up, she cheerfully led off with good,
ugly Mr. Harford, who had risen highly in her estimation as contrasted
with Lieutenant Tinsley.
Meanwhile, Harriet remained in her seat beside her aunt; the major
standing before them, prosing and complimenting, and setting forth his
humble opinion of himself; in which opinion the two ladies, in their
hearts, most cordially joined him. Miss Clements, who had much tact,
drew him off from her niece, by engaging him in a dialogue exactly
suited to his character and capacity; while, unperceived by the major,
Mr. Thomson stepped up, and, after the interchange of a few words, led
off Harriet to a cotillion, saying, "Depend upon it, he is not
sufficiently _au fait_ of the etiquette of a ball room to take offence
at your dancing with me, after having been asked by him."
"But, if he _should_ resent it----"
"Then I shall know how to answer him. But rely upon it, there is nothing
to fear."
It was not till the Chace was danced, and the major, happening to turn
his head in following the eyes of Miss Clements, saw Harriet gayly
flying round the cotillion with Mr. Thomson, that he missed her for the
first time,--having taken it for granted that she would dance with him.
He started, and exclaimed--"Well, I certainly am the most faulty of
men--the most condemnable--the most unpardonable officer in the army--to
be guilty of such neglect--such rudeness--and to so fine a young lady. I
ought never to presume to show myself in the best classes of society.
Madam, may I hope that you will stand my friend--that you will help me
to gain my pardon?"
"For what?" asked Miss Clements.
"For inviting that handsome young lady to favour me again with her hand,
and then to neglect observing when the dance was about to begin, so that
she was obliged to accept the offer of another gentleman. He, no doubt,
stepped up just in time to save her from sitting still, which, I am
told, is remarkably disagreeable to young ladies. Madam, I mean no
reflection on you--I am incapable of any reflection on you--but (if I
may be so bold as to say so) it was _your_ fine, sensible conversation
that drew me from my duty."
The set being now over, Major Steifenbiegen advanced to meet Mr. Thomson
and Miss Darnel, and he accosted the former with--"Sir, give me your
hand. Sir, you are a gentleman, and I am much obligated to you for
sparing this young lady the mortification of not dancing with me."
("You may leave out the 'not,'" murmured Harriet to herself.)
"Of not enjoying the dance to which I had invited her, and of saving her
from sitting still for want of a partner--all owing to my unofficer-like
conduct in neglecting to claim her hand. I begin to perceive that I want
some more practice in ball behaviour. I thank you again for your humane
kindness to the young lady, which, I hope, will turn aside her anger
from me."
"Oh, yes!" said Harriet, almost afraid to speak lest she should laugh.
"Will you favour me with your name, sir?" pursued the major.
Mr. Thomson gave it, much amused at the turn that things had taken. The
major, after admiring the name, said he should always remember it with
esteem, and regretted that his having to set out for Plattsburgh early
on the following morning would, for the present, prevent their farther
acquaintance. He then made sundry other acknowledgments to Harriet for
all the honours she had done him that evening, including her forgiveness
of his "letting her dance without him,"--bowed to Caroline, who had just
approached with Mr. Harford; and, going up to Miss Clements, he thanked
her for her conversation, and finally took his departure. The girls did
not laugh till he was entirely out of the room, though Harriet remarked
that he walked edgeways, which she had not observed when he was first
brought up to her; her fancy being then excited, and her perception
blinded by the glitter of his two epaulets.
"Well, Miss Darnel," said Mr. Wilson, who had just joined them, "how do
you like your field-officer?"
"Need you ask me?" replied Harriet. "In future I shall hate the sight of
two silver epaulets."
"And I of one gold one," added Caroline.
"I will not trust you," said Mr. Thomson, with a smile.
"We shall see," said Mr. Wilson.
"Well, young ladies," observed Miss Clements, "you may at least deduce
one moral from the events of the evening. You find that it _is_ possible
for officers to be extremely annoying, and to deport themselves in a
manner that you would consider intolerable in citizens."
"It is intolerable in _them_, aunt," replied Harriet, "particularly when
they are stiff and ungainly in all their movements, and dance
shockingly."
"And if they are conceited, and prating, and ungenteel," added Caroline.
"Awkward in their expressions, and dull in their ideas," pursued
Harriet.
"Talking ridiculously and behaving worse," continued Caroline.
"Come, come," said Sophia Clements, "candour must compel us to
acknowledge that these two gentlemen are anything but fair specimens of
their profession, which I am very sure can boast a large majority of
intelligent, polished, and accomplished men."
"Be that as it may," replied Harriet, "I confess that my delight in the
show and parade of war, and my admiration of officers, has received a
severe shock to-night. 'My thoughts, I must confess, are turned on
peace.'"
"I fear these pacific feelings are too sudden to be lasting," remarked
Miss Clements, "and in a day or two we shall find that 'your voice is
still for war.'"
* * * * *
The following morning the young ladies did more sewing than on any day
for the last two years, sitting all the time in the back parlour. In the
afternoon, Harriet read Coelebs aloud to her mother and aunt, and
Caroline went out to do some shopping. When she came home, she told of
her having stopped in at Mrs. Raymond's, and of her finding the family
just going to tea with an officer as their guest. "They pressed me
urgently," said she, "to sit down and take tea with them, and to remain
and spend the evening; but I steadily excused myself, notwithstanding
the officer."
"Good girl!" said Sophia.
"To be sure," added Caroline, "he was only in a citizen's dress."
"Ah!" said Mrs. Darnel, "that materially alters the case. Had he been in
uniform, I am sure your steadiness would have given way."
In less than two days all their anti-military resolutions were overset,
and the young ladies were again on the _qui vive_, in consequence of the
promulgation of an order for the return of the volunteers from Camp
Dupont, as, the winter having set in, the enemy had retired from the
vicinity of the Delaware and Chesapeake. The breaking up of this
encampment was an event of much interest to the inhabitants of
Philadelphia, as there were few of them that had not a near relative, or
an intimate friend among those citizen-soldiers.
On the morning that they marched home all business was suspended; the
pavements and door-steps were crowded with spectators, and the windows
filled with ladies, eager to recognise among the returning volunteers
their brothers, sons, husbands, or lovers,--who, on their side, cast
many upward glances towards the fair groups that were gazing on them.
The British General Riall, who had been taken prisoner at the battle of
Niagara, chanced to be at a house on the road-side when this gallant
band went by, on their way to Philadelphia. It is said that he remarked
to an American gentleman near him, "You should never go to war with
us--the terms are too unequal. Men like these are too valuable to be
thrown away in battle with such as compose _our_ armies, which are
formed from the overflowings of a superabundant population; while here I
see not a man that you can spare."
And he was essentially right.
The volunteers entered the city by the central bridge, and came down
Market street. All were in high spirits, and glad to return once more to
their homes and families. But unfortunate were those who on that day
formed the rear-guard, it being their inglorious lot to come in late in
the afternoon, after the spectators had withdrawn, convoying, with
"toilsome march, the long array" of baggage-wagons, which they had been
all day forcing through the heavy roads of an early winter, cold, weary,
and dispirited, with no music to cheer them, no acclamations to greet
them. No doubt, however, their chagrin was soon dispelled, and their
enjoyment proportionately great, when at last they reached their own
domestic hearths, and met the joyous faces and happy hearts assembled
round them.
A few days after the return of the volunteers, Mrs. Darnel received a
letter from an old friend of hers, Mrs. Forrester, a lady of large
fortune, residing in Boston, containing the information that her son,
Colonel Forrester, would shortly proceed to Philadelphia from the Canada
frontier, and that she would accompany him, taking the opportunity of
making her a long-promised visit. Mrs. Darnel replied immediately,
expressive of the pleasure it would afford her to meet again one of the
most intimate companions of her youth, and to have both Mrs. Forrester
and the colonel staying at her house.