Chapter IV

A brilliant morning found our collegians refreshed in health and elastic in spirits. The more gloomy fancies of the previous night, which had beset Chevillere both in his waking and sleeping hours--like the mists of the morning, had been dispelled by the bright sunshine, and the refreshing breezes of the bay. After the usual meal had been some time despatched; and while Chevillere was leisurely turning over the papers of the day (Lamar having departed in pursuit of the Kentuckian) he was surprised by the entrance of Mr. Brumley (the austere gentleman), who saluted him with the most friendly greetings of the hour and season, and concluded by inviting him into their private parlour. It may be readily imagined that this invitation was not tardily complied with, for he now imagined that the whole history of the lady would be unravelled by a single word--so sanguine is youthful hope, and so apt are we, at that interesting period, to jump to those conclusions which are desirable, without ever considering the previous steps, and painful delays, and necessary forms, and conventional usages which inevitably intervene between our highest hopes and their fruition. How often would the ardent wishes and the bold hands of youth seize upon futurity, despoiling it of the thin veil which separates us from what we wish to know, especially when this could be learned by dispensing with the accustomed formalities and wholesome restraints of refined society. A train of kindred thoughts was passing through the mind of Chevillere as he was ushered into a small but elegant saloon, connected with the back chambers by folding-doors, which were now closed. On the left of the door, and between the windows opening upon a great thoroughfare, sat the lady who occupied his thoughts. She was sitting, or rather reclining upon one end of a sofa, her head resting upon her hand in a thoughtful mood. As is true of most daughters of this favoured land, nature had evidently in nowise been thwarted, either in her mental or physical education. She appeared to possess that naivete which is so apt to be the result of a mixed town, and country education; with just enough of self-possession to show that native modesty had been properly regulated by much good society, but not too much to forbid an occasional crimsoning of the neck and face. Her eyes were blue, shaded by long dark lashes, and so sparkling and joyous in their expression, that the evident present sorrow which hung over her spirits, could not efface the impression to a beholder, that they were naturally much more inclined to beam with mirth and gayety, than to weeping; her features were regular--arch in their expression, and finely formed--her complexion of the finest shade--with a rich profusion of light brown hair, braided and parted on the forehead without a single curl; her figure was just tall enough to be elegant and graceful, and exhibited the graces of that interesting period, when the school-girl is merging into the reserved woman.

As Chevillere was ushered into the presence of this youthful lady, the old gentleman presented him as Mr. Chevillere, of South Carolina, and the lady by the name of (his step-daughter) Frances St. Clair; she assumed the erect position barely long enough to return the salutation of the gentleman, then reclined again and lapsed apparently into her sad mood; for a moment she pressed her handkerchief to her face as if she would drive away some horrible image, and then waited a moment as if she expected her father to speak upon some previously settled subject. Perceiving, however, that she waited in vain, she with some difficulty forced herself to say, "Mr. Chevillere, I requested my father to invite you to our apartments to"--here she seemed overpowered and stopped. Chevillere seeing her distress, replied, "Madam, you do me too much honour; but I see you are distressed--let me say then, without any farther formality, that if there is any way in the world by which I can lighten that distress, command me."

"It is about these very emotions that I would speak," she answered; "I was afraid you might think the scene at the breakfast-table two days since was got up in some silly girlish affectation, in pretended disgust at the rudeness of the young men present; but believe me when I say, their conduct would at many times in my life have furnished me with an ample fund for laughter; it was not in their manners, it was in the subject of one of their discourses that I felt so much affected--I tried to subdue my feelings, but the more I tried the more they overcame me; the truth is, some painful recollections were awakened"--Here again she covered her face with her handkerchief, and seemed to be for a moment almost suffocated. The lady resumed; "Nor should I have thought it proper to offer this explanation to one who is apparently a perfect stranger; but, sir, I have known you for some time by reputation."

"Indeed, madam, I must be indebted to some most flattering mistake for my present good fortune; I am but just emancipated from college walls and rules, and have, of course, even a reputation to make for myself."

"No! no!" said the youthful lady (a beautiful smile passing swiftly over her sad countenance), "there can be no mistake about it," and drawing from her work-bag a small bit of paper, rolled up in the shape of a letter, she presented it to him; adding, "Do you know that hand-writing?"

He gazed upon the signature for an instant, and then exclaimed, "My honoured mother's! by all that's fortunate! then indeed we are old acquaintances--with your permission; and I am perfectly content with the reputation which you spoke of, when I know that it originated in such a source."

"Your mother was indeed a prudent and a modest, but still a devoted herald of your good qualities."

"Believe me, dear lady, that I shall be more proud than ever to appear in your eyes to deserve some small share of her maternal praise; it was always inexpressibly dear to me for its own sake, but now I shall endeavour doubly to deserve it. You saw her, I suppose, at the White Sulphur Springs?"

"We did, sir; and a most fortunate circumstance it was for me; for being an invalid, she did every thing for me that my own mother could have done. Oh! how I regretted that my mother did not come, merely to have made her acquaintance."

"Your mother! is your mother alive, madam?"

"I hope and trust she is--and well; she was both when we last heard from her, and that was but a few days since; but your agitation alarms me! you know no bad news of my mother?" laying her hand upon his arm.

"None, madam! none. I don't know what put the foolish idea into my head, but I thought that both your own parents were dead."

"You alarmed me," said she. "I conjured up every dreadful image--I imagined that you had been commissioned by some of our friends here, to break the painful intelligence to me--but you are sure she is well?"

Chevillere smiled, as he answered "You forget that I am a total stranger to her, and she to me."

"True! true! But tell me how you left your charming young cousin Virginia Bell, of whom I heard your mother speak so often. She told me, I think, that she was at some celebrated school in North Carolina?"

"At Salem. She is well, I thank you, or was well when I came through the town: my mother intends to take her home with her on her return."

"So she told me," said the lady.

"She did not tell you, I suppose, for I believe she does not know, that I have promised the hand of the dear girl in marriage, though she is scarcely sixteen yet. You must know that I had in college two dear and beloved friends--the one, Mr. Lamar, you have seen; the other is Mr. Beverley Randolph, of Virginia--we were both class and room-mates. Randolph has gone on a journey through the Southern States, as he pretends; but, I believe, in truth, to take a sly peep at his affianced bride. If he likes her looks, it is a bargain; and if not, he will pass it all off for a college joke." Here he was interrupted by the lady gasping; and on looking in her face, he found she was as pale as marble, and terribly agitated. She asked her father for water, which he handed to her instantly, while Chevillere rang violently at the bell.

"It will all be over in a minute," said she; "it is only a return of the suffering to which I am subject."

Many strange ideas flitted through Chevillere's mind during this interruption of the conversation. He now recollected that one of the subjects of discourse between the vulgar fops, at the breakfast-table the previous morning, had been some runaway marriage--and "the fearful marriage and more fearful death" still sounded in his ears, and now the same subject again introduced by himself produced like consequences,--he thought it strange and incomprehensible; he cheered himself, however, with the reflection, that his mother was not likely to form an intimacy with persons against whom there was any charge of crime; nay, more, he felt assured that they must have been well sustained by public opinion, or introduced to her acquaintance by some judicious friend.

"If I have unaptly said any thing offensive, I hope Miss St. Clair will believe me, when I say that such a design was the farthest from my thoughts."

"Rest easy on that score," said she; "I am now well again: you said nothing that it was not proper for you to say, and me to hear, had I not been a poor silly-headed girl."

"Well, Miss Frances, I am anxious to hear your opinion of Western Virginia."

"My opinion is not worth having; but such as it is, you are welcome to it, or rather to such observations as a lady might make. First, then, I was delighted with the wild mountain scenery, and the beautiful valleys between the mountains; such are those, you will recollect, perhaps, in which all of those springs are situated. I doubt very much, whether Switzerland, or Spain, could present as many rich and beautiful mountain-scenes, as we have passed between Lexington and the White Sulphur and Salt Sulphur springs. We have similar scenes along and among the highlands of the Hudson, it is true; perhaps they are more grand and majestic than these; but then, there is such a stir of busy life, such an atmosphere of steam, and clouds of canvass, that one is perpetually called back in spirit to the stir and bustle of a city life. But here, among the rugged blue mountains of 'old Virginia,' as these people love to call it, there are the silence and the solitude of nature, which more befit such contemplations as the scenes induce. We can seat ourselves in one of the green forests of the mountains we have just left, and imagine ours to be the first human footsteps, which have ever been imprinted upon the soil; and we can repose amid the shades and the profound and solemn silence of those scenes, with a calmness and a serenity, and a soothing, delightful, melancholy feeling, which no other objects can produce. The very atmosphere seems teeming with these delightful impressions; primitive nature seems to have returned upon us with all its balmy delights,--quiet and peacefulness. The profound solitude would become tiresome, perhaps, to those who have no resources in unison with such scenes, or to those who admire and feign to revel in them, because it is fashionable just now to do so. But to an educated mind, a natural and feeling, and I may say devout heart, they furnish inexhaustible food for contemplation, and ever-renewing sources of delight and improvement."

"They are such scenes," replied Chevillere, "as I love to dwell upon, even in imagination. But come, Miss Frances, I see by the hat and mantle upon the table, that I have interrupted some intended promenade; shall I have the honour to be of your party?"

"Unquestionably, young gentleman--you may take the whole journey off my hands; Frances was only going out among the shops," said Mr. Brumley.

The plain, but tasteful apparel was soon adjusted, and the youthful pair sallied forth upon the promised expedition.

The tide of human life seems to be ever rolling and tossing, and ever renewing, and then rolling on again. Pestilence, and death, and famine may do their worst, but the tide is still renewed, and still moves on to the great sea of eternity.

Who that walks through the busy and thronged streets of a populous city, and sees the gay plumage, the fantastic finery, the smiling faces, and the splendid equipages, could ever form an adequate idea of the real suffering and wo, which constitute the sum of one day's pains in a city life? If all the miserable--the lame, the blind, the poor, the dumb, the aged, and the diseased, could be poured out along one side of the gay promenades, while fashionables were parading along the other, a much truer picture of life in a city would be seen. Such were the ideas of Victor Chevillere, as he escorted his timid and youthful companion through the gay throng from shop to shop.

As they emerged into a part of the city less thronged, interchange of opinions became more practicable.

"I am impatient to hear your opinion of the Southerns," said Chevillere; "you had the finest opportunity imaginable to see our southern aristocrats at the springs."

"Oh! I was delighted with the little society in which I moved there," replied she; "and, but for one unhappy, and most untoward circumstance for me, my enjoyments would have far surpassed any thing which I had ever laid out for myself again in this world."

"You excite my curiosity most strangely," said he; "and, if it would not appear impertinent or intrusive, I should like to know two things: first, what untoward circumstance you speak of? and next, what great bar has been placed between you and happiness, that you should have laid off so small a share for yourself in all time to come?"

"Oh! sir, your questions are painful to me, even to think of; how much worse then must have been the reality of those circumstances, which could poison the small share of happiness which is allotted to us under the most favourable circumstances. I would gratify your curiosity if I could, but indeed, indeed, sir, I cannot now relate to you the whole history of my life; and nothing less could explain to you the cruel train of circumstances by which I am surrounded, and from which there is no escape."

"One question you can, and I am sure you will, answer me.

"Could a devoted friend, with a cool head and a resolute hand, effect nothing in freeing you from this persecution?"

"I will answer you, sir, most plainly. You misunderstand my allusions, in the first place; for I am not persecuted now, nor can I say that I have been. It may seem enigmatical to you, but it is all that I can in prudence say. There is no person on this side of the grave who can relieve me from the cause of those emotions which you have unhappily witnessed; nay, more! if those persons were to rise from the dead, who were, unfortunately for themselves and for me, the cause of my painful situation, my condition would be incomparably worse than it is now."

"Painful, indeed, must those circumstances be, and incomprehensible to me, which seem to have been produced by the death of some one; and yet, if that person should rise from the dead, you would be more miserable than ever," said Chevillere.

During the latter part of this speech, the lady, as was often her custom, pressed her handkerchief to her face, as if she would by mechanical pressure drive off disagreeable images from the mind; and then said, "Now, sir, let us drop this subject."

"One more question, and then I have done; and believe me, it is not idly asked. Were the circumstances you spoke of developed so recently as your visit to the Virginia springs?"

"Oh! by no means, sir; the untoward circumstance there that I spoke of, was the frequent and unexpected presence of one who forcibly reminded me of all the painful particulars; and what made it so much worse was, that wherever I moved, he moved; he followed the same route round the watering-places, and seemed purposely to throw himself in my way; and even now I dread every moment to encounter him; and the more so, as I have heard lately that his mind is unsettled. Poor gentleman, I pity him."

By this time they had arrived in a part of the city from which Washington's monument could be seen, elevating its majestic column above a magnificent grove of trees.

"Suppose we extend our walk," said the gentleman, "to yonder beautiful grove."

To this the lady readily assented. They found rude seats, constructed perhaps by some romantic swain; or by some country-bred youths, who came there, after the toils of the day, to refresh themselves with the pure and invigorating breezes which sweep the green, fresh from their dear and longed-for homes. Here they seated themselves, to enjoy this delightful mixture of town and country.

"This is a noble monument to the great and good father of our Republic; and worthy of the high-minded and public-spirited people of Baltimore," said Chevillere. "Give me such evidence as this of their veneration for his memory, and none of your new-fangled nonsense about enshrining him in the hearts of his countrymen. Let him be enshrined in the hearts of his countrymen as individuals; but let cities, communities, and states enshrine him in marble. These speak to the eyes; and hundreds, and thousands will stand here, amid these beautiful shades, and think of him with profound veneration, who would never otherwise look into any other kind of history. The effect of such works as these is admirable; not only in showing veneration for the great dead, but also upon the living, in purifying the heart and ennobling its impulses."

"Baltimore, indeed, has set a noble example," said the lady.

"And richly will she be rewarded. A few years hence, the far West will be brought to her doors; and she will grow up to be a mighty city. Standing on the middle ground, between the angry sectionists of the North and the South, she will present a haven in which the rivals may meet, and learn to estimate each other's good qualities, and bury or forget those errors which are inseparable from humanity. But see! Miss St. Clair," said he, "what a singular looking man is just emerging from within the column!"

"Heavens!" said the lady, in extreme terror, "that is the person! Do take me from this place! I would not encounter him for the world!"

She was too late; for already had the object of her apprehension caught a glimpse of her person; and no sooner had he done so, than with rapid strides he advanced directly towards them. The lady shook with terror and agitation. When he had approached almost in a direct line to within some forty or fifty feet, he riveted a long and steady gaze upon the lady, and another of shorter duration upon her companion, still walking onward. Victor stood and gazed after him until he was entirely without the enclosure.

He was a well-dressed man, apparently about fifty-five years of age, tall, and straight in his carriage as an Indian; his hair was slightly silvered; his countenance expressed wildness, but was steady and consistent in the expression of present purpose; his eye was dark and deep, and, when you looked upon it steadily for a short time, appeared as if you were gazing at two black holes in his head; his complexion was sallow; its characteristics--energy and deep determination.

"And that is the maniac?" said Chevillere, in a half-abstracted mood.

"I said not so," replied the lady; "but he is, indeed, that most unfortunate man, whose whole business seems to be to haunt me in my travels; otherwise our meeting has been most strangely accidental and untoward."

"If he is in ill health," said Victor, "he may have gone to the Springs without intending to meet you; and now, when the season is nearly over, and he is likewise on his return, there is nothing more natural than his visiting this monument--every stranger does so,--do not, therefore, aggravate your distress by supposing these meetings to have been sought on his part. I will endeavour to find him, and demand of him whether he seeks to annoy an unhappy invalid by pursuing her from place to place, and what are his motives."

"Oh! sir, for Heaven's sake, do not think of such a thing. He is a powerful and a fearful man, when in his right mind; and even in his derangement, might do you some harm, especially if you went as commissioned by me. Besides, sir, if he was undoubtedly sane and respectful, he might demand, as a right, to see me, and converse with me too. Nay, he might possibly have some claim to control my actions; but you see he does not. Let him alone, therefore, and do not involve yourself in any of my troubles. I am inextricably entangled, and pinioned down to a certain routine of suffering, perhaps unexampled, and that too by no crime of my own."

"Dear lady," said Chevillere, taking her hand, as he saw her blue eye filling with tears, and just ready to run over; "you cannot imagine how much I feel interested for you; and what I am about to say, as it will risk your displeasure, is the very best evidence that I can give of my deep interest in your future peace and contentment. Believe me, dear lady, that though I am young, and may be inexperienced,--I am not an indifferent observer of the secret machinery of men's actions. I have been a steady observer and a thinker for myself, without regard to the opinion of individuals or the world, when I was conscious that I was right, and that they were wrong. Listen to me, then, with patience, while I give you my opinion, with regard to the difficulties which seem to be accumulating around you. Of course, this opinion must be a general one; as the circumstances upon which it is founded are only such as are of a general character. Nor do I seek for more confidence on your part towards me; I cannot expect that you should unfold the intimate relations of your family and your friends to a comparative stranger. This, then, is my (of course vague) opinion--I have generally observed, in my intercourse with mankind, that the most trying situations and the deepset distress are often brought about by a small mistake-- misfortune--or crime in the beginning. The latter of these I would defy the most malignant misanthrope to look upon your countenance and charge you with; one of the two former, then, is the point upon which all your distress, and ill health, and melancholy hangs. My advice then is, upon this general view of the case, that you go back to that point, and rectify it as speedily as possible; and do it boldly and fearlessly, as I am sure you can. Burst asunder these chains that fetter you, whatever they may be."

"I see," said the lady (tears fast stealing down her cheeks), "that I am always destined to make the same unhappy impression on every acquaintance, male or female, valued or unvalued. Before I have grown many degrees in their good opinion, some of these unlucky things are seen to develop themselves, and then I am subject to the greatest misfortune to which an honourable and a sensitive mind can be exposed; that is, to be supposed weak or wicked, though at the same time conscious of pure and upright motives. To be plain with you, sir, I must tell you again, that in order for me to be relieved of that which trammels me in some shape or other at every step, _the grave must give up its own; and the law must give up its own; and the avaricious must annul their decrees; and the dead of half a century must undo their work; and the wisdom of the sage must be instilled into the mind of a child; and the slanders, and the wild and wicked fancies of the lunatic must be convinced by reason or actual demonstration of the foregoing things_--before the point you speak of can be seized upon, and turned to my advantage."

"Then, indeed, is it a hard case, and I will not distress you further on the subject; I will not add my persecution to that of others--I will not say enemies; for one so young and so artless, so innocent and so unfortunate, can have no enemies."

"And therein consists part of my distress," replied she. "Is it not strange that I have not an enemy living, to my knowledge, who has ever wilfully injured me in word or deed? unless, indeed, it be yon wretched old man, whose mind is now, and whose heart, I fear, has always been wrong. Now, sir, let me beg of you, in future, whenever any of these little occurrences embarrass me during my stay here, to take no notice of them whatever; let me move along as quietly and as unobtrusively as possible. I love the retirement of the country, and to the country and retirement I will go. My mother loves me, and knows all my actions, and their motives too; and even my father loves me in his own way. They will be my companions for the remainder of a short and weary life."

The colloquy was cut short by their return to the hotel.

Lamar, as has been already announced, was a humorous gentleman, and would not lose an opportunity of enjoying the remarks of one so new to the busy world and its ways as Damon. He was not long in finding out the retired quarters of the gentleman of the west. At the bar-room he inquired if there was such a lodger in the house.

"No," said the barkeeper (so are these functionaries called), "but he is expected every minute."

Lamar seated himself near the files of morning papers which lay strewed along a reading-desk, and awaited the arrival of his singular new acquaintance. In a few minutes Damon stalked in. A new black hat and blue frock-coat had so much altered his appearance, that Lamar did not recognise him until he took off his hat, wiped his dripping brows with the handkerchief which he still carried in it, and then, seeing Lamar for the first time, waved it over his head.

"Hurrah! for old Kentuck!" was his characteristic exclamation.

"Why, Damon, you have been under the tailor's hands," said Lamar.

"I believe I was in Old Sam's hands last night; but come up-stairs, and I will tell you all about it."

They proceeded to the third story into a small apartment, dimly lighted through a single window. Damon, after seating Lamar, threw aside his coat, and drawing from under the head of his bed the one in which Lamar had first seen him, he quickly inserted his arms through what remained of the garment,--the lappels were torn off on each side down to the waist, so that all the front of the coat was gone, leaving nothing but the long straight back, collar, and sleeves. What remained was smeared with mud, and torn in many places. He next proceeded to pull out of his pocket a collar, and parts of two sleeves of a shirt, spreading them on the bed, as a milliner would do her finery; and holding out both his hands with the palms upward in the manner of an orator,----

"There!" said he, "that's what I call a pretty tolerable neat job, to shirt a stranger the first night he comes to town."

Lamar, who by this time began to see a little into the affair, asked, "But, Damon, how did all this happen? you seem to have been discomfited."

"Now I'll be smashed if you ain't off the trail, stranger, for you see I've only showed you half yet."

Upon which he drew from his other pocket a pair of spectacles, bent, bloody, and broken,--then a wig,--and, lastly, the remains of a little black rattan with a gold head and chain broken into inches. He displayed these on the bed as he had done the others; only drawing his handkerchief as a line between them. Upon this he fell, rather than sat, back into a chair just behind him, and burst out into a loud, long, and hearty laugh, seemingly excited afresh at the sight of his spoils.

"Well, now," said he, "I wish I may be horn swoggled, if ever I thought to live to see the day when I should '_sculp_' a Christian man; but there it is, you see; I left his head as clean as a peeled onion."

"But how? and when? and who was your antagonist in this frolic?"

"Frolic!" exclaimed Damon; "well, now, it's what I would call a regular row; I never saw a prettier knock down and drag out in all the days of my life, even in old Kentuck."

"But do tell me," said Lamar, "was anybody seriously hurt?"

"There was several chaps in the circus last night with their heels uppermost, besides them suple chaps on the horses; I can tell you that."

"Oh! you were in the circus, were you?"

"Yes; and there was a rip-roaring sight of slight o'hand and tumblin work there, besides their ground and lofty tumblin they had in the handbills."

"You did some of the ground tumbling yourself then?" asked Lamar.

"No, I did the slight o'hand work, as you may see by the skin that's gone off these four marrow-bones."

"And who did the ground tumbling?" asked Lamar.

"There was a good deal done there last night; the chaps in the ring and the chaps in the pit all did a little at it; flummuck me if I didn't think the heels of the whole house would be uppermost before they were done; what an everlastin pity 'tis, these critters elbows ain't as suple as their heels."

"Then you think all the people of Baltimore a little limber in the heels."

"I can't say as to that; but I wish I may be hackled, if there was not so much flyin up of the heels there last night, that I was fidlin and tumblin all night in my sleep, jumpin through hoops, and tanglin my legs in their long red garters, which the circus riders jumped over; and then I thought they had my poor old horse, Pete Ironsides, jumpin over bars, and leapin through fiery balloons, until at last they smashed his head right into a tar barrel, and then maybe I didn't fly into a tear down snortin rage! I was crammed full of fight then, and so I got to slingin my arms about in my sleep, till I knocked out that head-board there,--then I woke up, and I wish I may be hanged if I didn't think it was all a dream; till I found that the forepart of my coat had run away from the tail, and that I had got an odd collar among my linen. And then on t'other hand I began to think it was all true, and rung the bell, and sent the nigger down to the stable to see if Pete had his head in a tar barrel sure enough; presently the nigger came back, grinen and giglin, and said Pete had gone to the country two hours ago; so I run the little nigger down stairs, and sent my old boots after him to get blacked; and as I was dodgin through that long entry there, I saw the bottles, and tumblers, and lemon-skins; so ho! said I, there's the mad dog that bit me last night."

"Then you _began_ in a frolic at least," said Lamar.

"Only a small breeze or so; a few tumblers of punch, made of that doubled and twisted Irish whiskey; it was none of your Kentuck low wines, run off at a singlin, for I have made many a barrel. It was as strong as _pison_, and it raised the Irish in me pretty quick, or rather old Kentuck, for I jumped up and kicked the table over, and broke things, afore I would have been cleverly primed with the low wines."

"Were you drinking all alone?"

"No; there was half-a-dozen milksops set down; I believe they board here; but no sooner had I kicked the table over, and begun to smash things a little, than they all sneaked out one by one, until they were all gone but one, and I rather suspicion that he's a blackleg, for he stuck pretty close to me till the row at the circus was over, and then when I had got clear, he come up here with me, and sent for the chap who furnished me with my new hat and coat; but it wasn't all for nothin, as he thought, for he presently proposed that we should go down street a piece, and see some fine fellers, he said, who were friends of his, and who were going to have a night of it. Well, said I, 'a little hair of the dog is good for the bite,' and down we went to a large room up four pair of stairs in a dark alley. And there, sure enough, there was a merry-looking set of fellers; but you see they overdid the job, for I soon smelt a rat; they most all of 'em pretended to be too etarnal drunk. I said nothin though, but 'possumed too a little; only sipped a little wine, and that made me straight instead of crooked. But at last they proposed a game of cards. Well, said I, I'm not much of a dabster at it, but if the stake ain't high, I don't care if I do take a fling or two; so down we set to it, and they pulled out their cards for loo. Stop! stop! said I, we must have _new cards_; I never play with other men's cards. They began to suspicion, maybe, that they had got the wrong sow by the ear, but they sent and got some new packs, and then we took a smash or two at the game, and I'm a Cherokee if I didn't give 'em a touch or two of old Kentuck. I won all the money they had, but it wasn't much, and they made me pay most of that for the refreshments, as they said the winners always paid for them things."

"But you have not yet told me how you got into the row," said Lamar; "I wish to know the whole story--come, let us have it?"

"Well, it's soon told. As I was telling you, the black-leg chap and I went to the circus, and we had'nt set long in the pit before there was a young gal come in, and set on one end of the same bench. She was'nt so ugly neither, but I took pity on her because she looked like a country gal, and there was no women settin near her. After a while, three chaps come down from the boxes above, and set right down by the gal, and began to push one another over against her; at last the one next her, and he was the same chap you saw in the stage yesterday morning, only he had on them green specks--well, he put his arm round her, and called her his dear, and all that; well, you see, I had heard tell of these city gals, and I thought if she was pleased it was none of my business; but presently I heard her sobbing and crying, with her apron up to her eyes, and she told them they were no gentlemen, or they would not treat a poor girl so away from home. So the Irish whiskey, or old Kentuck, I don't know which, began to rise in my throat. I jumped up and raised the war-whoop. 'Old Kentuck for ever!' said I; and with that, I took the back of my hand and knocked the chap's hat off, and his 'sculp' went with it. Call your soul your own, said I; he jumped up and gin me a wipe with that little black switch across the nose; it had hardly cleverly touched me, afore I took him a sneezer, between the two eyes, glasses and all; he dropped over like a rabbit when you knock 'em behind the head; I rather suspicion he thought a two year old colt's heels had got a taste of his cocoanut.

"Then the other two took it up, and both on 'em seized me, and swore they would carry me to the police office; but I took 'em at cross purposes, for while one of them held the collar of the old home-made, I fetched the other a kick that sent him over the benches a rip roaring, I tell you. The other little chap was hangin on to me like a leech to a horse's leg; I jist picked him up and throwed him into the ring upon the sand, for I did'nt want to hurt him: but then the real officers come up and clamped me. I wished myself back in old Kentuck bad enough then; but while they held me there, like a dog that had been killen sheep, the little gal came up to me, and said she would go and bring her father, to try and get me off; and then she asked me where I lived,--I told her in old Kentuck; then she asked me where I put up, and I put my mouth to her ear and told her; and I could hardly get it away again without givin her a smack, for she would pass for a pretty gal even in old Kentuck; well, this morning, her and her father were here by times to thank me, and the old man invited me to stop at his house as I go home; it's on the same road we came down yesterday."

"Did the girl go to the circus by herself?" asked Lamar.

"No; the old man stopped at the door to buy a ticket, and she went on, and lost him."

"But you have not told me how you came by this scalp," said Lamar, taking up the large black scratch with curled locks.

"Oh! you see, I grabbled that in the scuffle, and slipped it into my pocket."

"How did you get away from the officers?"

"Oh! that's the way I lost the old 'home-made;' you see they began to pull me over the benches, and I told 'em I would walk myself if they would let me, and so they did, but they held on to my coat. I kept pretty cool until they got outside of the house, and then a crowd gathered round, and they began cologueing together, until I saw my way out a little, and then I jist slipped my foot behind one of 'em and pushed him down, and tumbled the other feller over him, and then I showed them a clean pair of heels. They raised the whoop--and I raised my tail like a blue-lick buck, for you see I had'nt much coat to keep it down;--dash me if it was'nt tail all the way to the collar, and stood out straight behind like it was afraid of my pantaloons. I made a few turns to throw 'em off the trail, and then with a curly whoop, and a hurrah! for old Kentuck, I got to my own door, where I found the black-leg chap. Now you know the whole business, and I suppose you can tell me whether there is any danger of their finding me out in that little excuse for a coat that blasted tailor, who was so stingy with his cloth, made me."

"I should suppose there was none in the world. Have no fear on that head; there is not a magistrate in town who would not honour you in his heart for what you did."

"I should think so too, if they had any gals of their own. The fact is, if there was a little knockin down and draggin out once in a while among them dandy chaps, they would take better care how they sleeved decent men's daughters."

"Well, good day, Damon," said Lamar; "send for me or Chevillere if you get into trouble."