Chapter XXIV: Letter X: Habit (2)

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,"

at intervals, for the amusement of the little fellow. I chanced, too, to accompany him, when he attended the poetess to her post-chaise, on the morning of her departure, and had occasion to remark his courteous hospitality to the last. "There are some persons," said he, with his cordial smile, as he offered his hand at parting, "whom one earnestly desires to meet again. You, madam, are one of those." But I am quite forgetting the object that induced my recurrence to these well-remembered scenes.

In answer to some leading remark of mine, regarding the wonderful versatility of his father-in-law, addressed to Mr. Lockhart, as we stood together contemplating the ivy-mantled walls of Dryburgh, he informed me of the secret of his extraordinary achievements with the pen: "When you meet him at breakfast," said Mr. Lockhart, "he has already, as he expresses it, 'broken the neck of the day's work'--_he writes in the morning_. Eschewing the indulgences of late rising and slippered ease (at the last he rails incontinently), he is up with the lark--by half past four or five, dresses as you see him at a later hour, in out-door costume, visits the stables, and then sets himself resolutely to work. By nine o'clock, when he joins us, he has accomplished the labors of a day, almost."

"His correspondence alone must occupy an immense deal of time," said I.

"And yet," returned my companion, "Sir Walter makes it a rule to answer every letter on the day of its reception. It must be an urgent cause that interferes with this habit. And I am often astonished at the length and careful composition of his replies to the queries of literary correspondents, as well as to his letters of friendship."

"One would suppose his health must be impaired by such severe mental labor," I answered.

"His cheerful temper, and his power to _leave care behind him_ in his study, are a great assistance to him," replied Mr. Lockhart, moving towards our horses, as he spoke--"but here," he added, smilingly, laying his hand on his saddle, "here is his grand preservative. It must be foul weather, indeed, even for our Northern land of mists and clouds, that keeps him from his _daily allowance of fresh air_."

"Sir Walter is an accomplished horseman, I observe," said I, as we resumed our ride.

"You may well say that!" exclaimed his son-in-law, laughing. "I wish you could have seen him at the head of his troop of horse, charging an imaginary foe. Only the other day, his favorite steed broke the arm of a groom who attempted to mount him; and yet, in Sir Walter's hands, he is as docile as need be. There seems to be some secret understanding between him and his horses and dogs. This very horse, though he will never permit another man to mount him, seems to obey his master's behests with real pride as well as pleasure. I believe he would kneel to receive him on his back, were he bidden to do so."

* * * * *

Dipping into an instructive and pleasant, though no longer new book,[14] the other day, I came across the following passage: "Brougham has recorded that the peroration of his speech in the Queen's case"--his celebrated defence of Queen Caroline against her beastly husband--"was written no less than ten times before he thought it fit for so august an occasion. The same is probably true of similar passages in Webster's speeches; it is known to be so of Burke's." What do you think of such examples of industry and perseverance as these, young gentlemen?

[14] Sketches of Reform and Reformers,--by _H. B. Stanton_.

* * * * *

"Step in, ma'am, step in, if you please," said our Jehu, opening the door of a stage-coach, in which I was making a journey through a region not then penetrated by modern improvements, "would you like the back seat?" Beside him stood a slightly-formed, delicate-looking girl, in a hesitating attitude.

"I cannot ride backwards without being ill," said she, timidly, "and I--I shall be sorry to disturb any one, but I would like to sit by a window."

A young man who was sitting on the middle seat with me immediately alighted, to make room for the more convenient entrance of the stranger, and, as he did so, the driver said decidedly--"Shall be obliged to ask the gentlemen on the back seat to accommodate the lady." A low-browed, surly-looking young fellow, who sat nearest the door of the vehicle, on the seat designated, doggedly kept his place, muttering something about having the first claim, "first come, first served," etc. Seeing how matters stood, a good-natured, farmer-like looking old man, who occupied the other end of the seat, called out cheerily, "The young woman is welcome to my place, if I can only get out of it!" and he began at once to suit the action to the word.

By this time the before pale face of the young girl was painfully flushed, and she said, in a low, deprecating tone, "I am very sorry to make so much trouble."

"No trouble at all, ma'am--none at all! Just reach me your hand and I'll help you up--that's it!"

"I am much obliged to you, sir--very much! I hope you will find a good seat for yourself," said the recipient of his kindness, gently.

"No doubt of it!" returned he of the cheery voice. "I ain't at all sorry to change a little--them back seat's plaguy cramped up! They say," added he, settling himself next the boot, "that the front seat's the easiest of all. One thing, there's more room [stretching his legs with an air of infinite relief between those of his opposite neighbors], a deuced sight!"

"Take your fare, gem'men," cried a bustling personage, at this moment.

"What is the fare from here to O----?" inquired the stationary biped in the corner behind me.

"Six shillings, York money," was the ready response.

"Six shillings!" growled the other; "seems to me there's great extortion all 'long this road. Yesterday I paid out three dollars, hard money--twelve shillin' for lodgin', supper, and breakfast, back here to G----!"

"Take your fare _now_, sir," interrupted the bustling little man at the door, stepping upon the wheel, in sublime indifference to the muttered anathemas, half addressed to him. "What name, sir?"--preparing to write on the "way-bill"--"_always_, sir! it is rulable--always put down the name."

The low voice of the lady, when she was reached, in due order, was almost lost in the grumbling kept up by the agreeable occupant of the corner seat. The most amusing commingling of opposite sounds reached my ears, somewhat like the soft tones of a distant flute, and the growling--not loud, but deep--of a hungry mastiff. "Julia Peters"--"takes off the silver, by thunder!"--"Is my band-box put on?" here a chinking, as of money counted, and then a hurried fumbling appeared to take place in the "deepest depths" of various pockets. "How soon will we be there," in silvery murmurs--"By George! I swear I b'lieve I lost two shillin'!"--"Before dark!" chimed in the flute-notes. "I am glad to hear it!" "I'll be hanged if any one shall come it over me!" surged over the musical ripple. "When you stop at my brother-in-law's," concluded the softer voice, in this unique duet.

Having been sometime on the wing, I fell into a doze, as we proceeded. As I roused myself, at length, the young man who had alighted to make room for the entrance of Miss Peters, whispered, "That young lady seems very ill--what can we do for her relief?" A moment's attention convinced me that the poor thing was horribly _stage-sick_. When she appeared to rally a little, I turned round to her, and said, that I trusted she would allow me to render her any service in my power. Forcing a smile, she thanked me, and replied that she would soon be better she thought, adding, in a still lower tone, that the _smell of tobacco_ always affected her very sensibly. This last remark was at the time unintelligible to me, but I afterwards learned that the animal on the same seat with her had regaled himself upon the vilest of cigars while I was napping, and that the only attempt at an apology he had offered was a mumbled remark that, "as the wind blew the smoke out of the stage, he s'posed no one hadn't no objections!"

Despite the hope expressed by my suffering neighbor, she did _not_ get better, but continued to endure a most exhausting ordeal. Every decent man in the coach seemed to sympathize with her, the rather that she so evidently tried to make the best of it, and to avoid annoying others. Every one had a different remedy to suggest, but, unfortunately, none of them available, as there was no stopping place near. Though a somewhat experienced traveller, my ingenuity could, until we should stop, effect no more than disposing my large woollen shawl so as to aid in supporting the weary head of the poor child.

As soon as we reached the next place for changing horses, I sprang out, in common with the other passengers, and, inquiring for the nearest druggist, hastened to procure a little reliable _brandy_.

Having previously arranged a change of seats with the harmless stripling who had thus far occupied the middle back seat, I entered the stage, and quietly told the young lady that, as there was no one of her own sex aboard, I should claim the privilege of age, and prescribe for her, if she would permit me.

"This is not a pleasant dose, I must warn you," said I, offering her a _single teaspoonful of clear brandy_, "but I can safely promise you relief, if you will swallow it; this is a nice, clean glass, too," I added, smilingly, for I well knew how much that assurance would encourage my patient.

"I do not know how to thank you sufficiently, sir," said the young lady, striving to speak cheerfully, as she attempted to raise her head. Taking the tumbler, with a trembling hand, she bravely swallowed my prescription. I must own she gasped a little afterwards, but I could not allow her the relief of water, without nullifying the proper effect, so I assisted her in removing her bonnet (which the good-natured farmer, who had re-entered the coach with me, carefully pinned upon the lining of the vehicle, where it would safely swing), and in enveloping her head in her veil, adjusting her shawl comfortably about her, and wrapping my own about her feet.

"If I become your physician," said I, as I stooped to make the latter process more effectual, "you must allow me the right to do as I think best."

"I shall be only too much obliged by your kindness, sir," returned she. "All I fear is, that you will give yourself unnecessary trouble on my account."

"The gentleman don't seem to think it's no trouble," interposed the old farmer, "'taint never no trouble to good-hearted folks to help a fellow-cretur in distress! I wish my wife was here; she knows a great sight better than I do, how to take care o' sick folks."

"I am sure," replied the invalid, "if kindness could make people well, I should be restored. I feel myself greatly indebted to you, gentlemen."

The slight color called to her cheek by the genuine feeling with which she uttered these words, was by no means decreased, as she gracefully accepted the offerings of the youth who had first called my attention to her indisposition. Coming up to the side of the stage, near her, he expressed the hope that she was feeling better, and, saying that he had known sea-sickness relieved by lemon-juice, presented a fine, fresh lemon, and a superb carnation-pink, and quickly withdrew.

Mr. Benton--that I heard him tell the way-bill-man was his name--lost something in not hearing and seeing all I did of the pleasure he bestowed by his gifts; but he had his reward, as he re-seated himself near us.

"You did not give me an opportunity to thank you for your politeness, sir," the lady hastened to say, with a pretty, half-shrinking manner, "I am so much obliged to you for the flower! it is so spicy and refreshing, and so very beautiful."

"A very indifferent apology for a bouquet," returned the gentleman, "all I could find, however. I am very happy if it affords you the slightest gratification."

No sooner were we fairly on our way again, than I insisted upon supporting the head of my fair patient upon my shoulder, assuring her that ten minutes' sleep would complete the cure already begun in her case. She blushed, and hesitated a little, upon the plea that she would tire me.

"Allow me to be the judge of that," I answered, with some gravity, "and permit the freedom of an old man." With this, I placed my arm firmly about her slight form, and, without more ado, the languid head dropped upon my shoulder.

I very soon had the satisfaction to discover that "tired nature's sweet restorer" had come to my assistance, and to discern the return of some natural color to the pallid face of the poor sufferer; so gathering her shawl more closely about her, and disposing myself more effectually to support my light burden, I maintained my vigil until the sudden stopping of the vehicle aroused us all.

"The lady gets out here," cried the driver, opening the door, and, through the obscurity that had now gathered about us, I dimly discerned the outlines of the small dwelling in front of which we were at a stand. In another moment, the door was flung hurriedly open, and a gentleman hastened forward to receive my fair charge, who, notwithstanding the confusion of the moment, found time to acknowledge the insignificant attentions she had received from her travelling companions, much more warmly than they deserved. Our last glimpse of my interesting patient, revealed her folded closely in the arms of a lady, who appeared in the lighted passage, and embraced, simultaneously, by several curly-headed children, who clung to her dress, and hung upon her neck with manifest and noisy delight.

We lumbered along, across a dark, covered bridge, up hill and down, and then I reached my destination, for the nonce, the "New York Hotel," as the little tavern of the village of B---- was grand-eloquently styled.

"Well, I ain't sorry we're arrove!" exclaimed the elegant young man, with whose courtesy of nature my story opened. "George!"--stretching his ungainly limbs upon the porch of the house--"won't some tipple be fine? Hotel tipple's good enough for me!"

Before I could decide in my own mind whether this last declaration was intended as a fling at me, for not giving Miss Peters a match for his disgusting tobacco-smoke, from the bar of the stage-house, when I came to the rescue in her service, he was scuffling with some ragged boys for his trunk, and, as he marched off with his prize, I heard a characteristic growl over the prospective tax upon his purse.

The next day was Sunday, and, of course, I was temporarily at a stand-still in my journey.

The sexton of the neat little church to which I found my way in the morning, put me into a pew next behind that I surmised to be the Rector's. A movement among its occupants arrested my attention, and I soon became really interested in remarking the healthful beauty of the children, who, disposed between the two ladies occupying the extreme ends of the seat, seemed to find some difficulty in keeping as quiet as decorum required.

"I want to sit by aunt Julia," I overheard, as a bright-eyed little fellow began to nestle uneasily in his seat. Upon this, the lady at the top of the pew turned her head, and, behold! the face of my young stage-coach friend! She was too much engaged, however, in aiding their mother, as I supposed her to be, in settling the children, before the service should commence, to observe me, and I almost doubted whether the happy, smiling face I saw, was identical with the worn and colorless one that had reposed so helplessly upon my breast on the previous evening; but there was no mistaking the soft, blue eyes, and the wavy hair, almost as sunny in hue as that of the little fellow who, at length, rested quietly, with his head pillowed on her arm.

Scarcely had we begun with the Psalter, before Miss Peters looked quickly round, with a startled glance. A half-smile of recognition lighted her sweet face, and then her gaze was as quickly withdrawn.

"Good morning, sir!" exclaimed my new acquaintance, advancing eagerly toward me, and offering her hand, as soon as we were in the vestibule of the church, at the conclusion of the service; "I did not anticipate this pleasure--sister, this is the gentleman to whom I was so much indebted yesterday."

"We are all much obliged by your kindness to Miss Peters sir," her companion hastened to say, and both bowed most politely to my disclaimers of merit for so ordinary an act of humanity as that to which they referred, and to my inquiries for the health of my fair patient.

Then followed a cordial invitation to dinner, in which each vied with the other in frank hospitality. I attempted to compromise the matter by a promise to pay my respects to the ladies in the evening.

"We do not dine until five on Sunday, sir, and that is almost evening! Mr. Y---- will walk over and accompany you--you are at the Hotel? It will give us great pleasure if you will come, unceremoniously, and partake of a simple family dinner. Miss Peters claims you as _a friend_."

There was no withstanding this, especially as each phrase of courtesy was made doubly expressive, by the most ingenuously hospitable manner.

"Really, ladies," said I, as we reached the gate of the Rectory, "there is no resisting such fair tempters! I will be most happy to exchange the solitude of my dull room for the joys of your Eden."

And, insisting that I could not permit Mr. Y---- to add to his clerical duties the fatigue of calling for me, I renewed my expressions of gratification at the restoration of Miss Peters, and took my leave.

I was still engaged in laying off my overcoat and shoes, after sending in my card, when Mr. Y---- came out to welcome me; and a most cordial welcome it was! Such a warm hand-shaking as he gave me, and such emphatic assurances of the pleasure it afforded him to make my acquaintance! And when I entered the tasteful little parlor, where I found the ladies, I was received with equally frank hospitality. The children united with their seniors in making me feel, at once, that I was among friends. One little circumstance, I remember, particularly touched me. I was scarcely seated, when a little tottering thing, with a toy in her hand, came and placed herself between my knees, and raising a pair of large, truthful, blue eyes to mine, lisped out, "I does 'ouv 'ou dearly!--'ou was 'o dood to aun' Dule!--I dive 'ou my pretty 'ittle birdie!" and the little cherub presented me the toy.--It was many a long day afterwards, believe me, my dear boys, before the warmth infused into the heart of an old campaigner, by the simple adventures of that quiet village Sabbath, ceased to glow cheerily in his heart!

After the unpretending, but pleasant, well-appointed dinner was concluded, Miss Peters rose, and, with a slight apology to me, was leaving the room, when her sister arrested her. Some playful, whispered contest seemed to be going on between the two, of which I could not help overhearing, in the sweet, silvery tones that had charmed me in the stage-coach, "You know, dear, it's such a luxury to me!--you are always with them. I will have my own way when I am here!" and away she flew like a fawn.

Presently, the pattering of numerous tiny feet, and a commingling of joyous voices, and the music of childish laughter, reached my ears, from the stairs, and then all was for a moment hushed. Now there was distinctly heard from above, the swelling notes of a simple, child's hymn, sung by several voices, led by the musical one I had learned to distinguish, and then followed a low-murmured "Our Father," as I thought.

"Colonel Lunettes," said my hostess, drawing a chair to the sofa corner, where I had been snugly ensconced by two of the children, before they said good-night, "I will take advantage of sister's absence to express my personal obligations to you for your kind care of her yesterday"----

"My dear Madam," I interposed, "I regard my meeting your sister as a special Providence, for which I alone should be deeply grateful!"

"You are very polite, sir," answered the lady, "we, too, should be grateful. Julia should never travel alone. Mr. Y---- always goes over to O---- for her, when we expect her, and intended to do so this time, but she insisted upon it in her last letter, that she _knew_ she wouldn't be ill, and that he would only distress her by coming, as she was sure he was necessarily very busy, preparing for the Bishop's visit, and, indeed, she expected to come over with an elder lady teacher in the Seminary."

"Then Miss Peters is instructing, Mrs. Y----?"

"She is, sir. We are orphans [a slight quiver in the tones] and Julia prefers to make this effort for herself"----

"I am opposed to it," continued Mr. Y----, taking up the narrative, as his wife half-paused, "and much prefer that Julia should be with us,--she and Mrs. Y---- should not be separated. I am sure there is room enough in our hearts for all _our children_, and Julia is one of them!"

The grateful, loving smile, and dewy eyes of the wife, alone expressed her sense of pleasure at these words. For myself, I declare to you, I did not like to trust myself to reply. I was turning over some new pages of the history of human nature! Sometimes I think, as I did then, that the soul of man never reaches the full development of its earthly capacities, except when continually subjected to the blessed influences of _nature_! The city--the beaten thoroughfares of existence--curb, if they do not deaden, the better manifestations of the spirit, check forever, the most beautiful, individualizing specialities of manner even! But I did not mean to moralize.

When Miss Peters rejoined us, her brother-in-law rose (as I also did, of course) and seated her between us, on the sofa.

"My dear young lady," said I, taking her hand respectfully in my own, "permit me to say, as Dr. Johnson did to Hannah More, upon meeting her for the first time, '_I understand that you are engaged in the useful and honorable occupation of instructing young ladies_,'--if it were possible more thoroughly to forget the brevity of our acquaintance, than I have already done, this would have deepened my respect and interest for you! Pardon me, if I take too great a liberty. You have, from the commencement of our acquaintance, permitted me the privileges of an octogenarian"----

"And of a _gentleman of the old school_!" she added, with great vivacity, and with the most bewitching smile.

"Before I leave you, my dear Miss Peters, will you allow me to make a prophecy?"

"If you are a prophet of _good_, sir"----

"Can you doubt it, when your future fate is the subject?"

"Indeed, sir, I shall have great faith in your auguries!" returned my fair neighbor, bestowing the twin of her first smile upon me.

"Well, then, my dear, it is my solemn conviction that you have not yet learned all you will one day know of the depth of the impression you have left upon the heart of Mr. Benton," I answered, with a gravity that I intended should _tell_.

"Mr. Benton! so that's his name?" laughed Mrs. Y----, gaily. "Julia pretended not to know his name! I thought it was a conquest! I have not yet had an opportunity of looking out the '_language_' of a very large, full blown carnation pink!"

"No doubt," interrupted Mr. Y----, "it is precisely the opposite of _lemon-juice_!"

Between laughing and blushing, the fair subject of this badinage made but a faint show of resistance; but, at this juncture, she managed to say, as she turned to me, with a most courteous bow.

"I very much question whether the sentiments expressed by any flower can more readily touch the heart, than that _I_ have known conveyed by a _teaspoonful of brandy_!"

"Bravo!" cried Mr. Y----.

"Well done, Jule!" echoed my hostess.

And I!--my feelings were too deep for words! I could only lay my hand upon my heart, and raise my eyes to the ceiling.

* * * * *

Perhaps there is no better test of the unexceptionableness of a habit, than to _suppose it generally adopted, and infer the consequences_. I remember some such reflection, in connection with a little circumstance that once fell under my observation:--Dining with a young Canadian, at his residence in Kingston, C. W., I met, among other persons, an English notability, of whom I had frequently heard and read. A slight pause in the conversation, made doubly audible a loud yawn proceeding from one corner of the dining-room, and, as a general look of surprise was visible, a huge Newfoundland dog approached us, stretching his limbs, and shaking from his shaggy coat anything but

"Sabaean odors, from the spicy shores
Of Araby the Blest!"

Our host endeavored to say something polite, and the animal, advancing toward the celebrity, stationed himself, familiarly, at his master's side, somewhat to the annoyance, probably, of the lady next him.

With the utmost _sang froid_, the "privileged character" held his finger-bowl to his dog, and remarked, as he eagerly lapped the contents, that he had eaten highly-seasoned venison at lunch!

* * * * *

"Foreigners," says Madame de Stael, "are a kind of contemporaneous posterity." This truth apart, I had sufficient reason to blush for my country, on more than one occasion, lately, while travelling at the West, in company with a well-bred young European. His own manners were so pleasing as to render more striking the peculiarities of others, and his habits so refined, as, when united with his large observation and intelligence, to make him an exceedingly agreeable person to associate with.

One hot day, during a portion of our journey performed by steamer, I looked up from my book, and saw him coming toward me.

"I have found a cool place, sir," said he, "and have come to beg you to join me--we shall be undisturbed there."

I rose, and was about to take up my seat.

"Allow me, sir! I am the younger," said he; and he insisted upon carrying my seat, as well as the one he had previously secured for himself. And this was his habitual phrase, when there was any occasion to allude to the difference in our years. He never said--"You are older than I am," or insinuated that my lameness made me less active than he, when he offered his arm, in our numerous promenades. The idea he seemed ever studying to express was, that he had pleasure in the society of the old soldier, and thought him entitled to respect and precedence on all occasions. Aside from the personal gratification and comfort I derived from these graceful and unremitting attentions, it was a source of perpetual pleasure to me to observe his beautiful courtesy to all with whom he came in contact. He had with him a land surveyor, or agent of some sort; with this person he, apparently, found little in common, but, when he had occasion to converse with him, I always remarked his punctilious politeness. And so with his servant; he always _requested_, never _ordered_, him to do what he wished. Reserved and laconic, when giving him directions, there was yet a certain assuring kindliness in his _voice_, that seemed to act like a talisman upon his man, who, speaking our language very imperfectly, would have often suffered the consequences of embarrassing mistakes, but for the clear, simple, intelligible directions and explanations of his master. But to return.

Scarcely were we seated quietly in the retired spot so carefully selected by my friend, when a couple of young fellows came swaggering along, and stationing themselves near us, began smoking, spitting and talking so loudly, as to disturb and annoy us, exceedingly.

"What a pity that this fine air should be so poisoned!" exclaimed my companion, in French, glancing at the intruders. "For my part, _pure air_ is good enough for me, without perfume!"

"Do you never smoke?" I asked, in the same tongue.

"Certainly! but I do not smoke _always_ and _everywhere_! Neither do I think it decent to soil every place with tobacco-juice, as you do in this country!"