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by Susan Fenimore Cooper

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{This e-text was prepared from the first edition of Susan

Fenimore Cooper's "Elinor Wyllys: or, The Young Folk of

Longbridge" (Philadelphia: Carey and Hart, 1846). "Elinor Wyllys"

was also published in England (London: Richard Bentley, 1845),

but has otherwise not been reprinted.

{Text and note are by Hugh C. MacDougall (jfcooper@wpe.com).

Notes are enclosed in curly brackets { }; these include

identification of epigraphs and other quotations and allusions,

explanations of obsolete word usage, and translations of foreign

words and expressions. Quotations from Shakespeare are cited to

the Riverside Edition (adopted as standard for the MLA-approved

Cooper Edition of the works of James Fenimore Cooper). Spelling

and punctuation, including the author's idiosyncratic use of

colons and semi-colons, inconsistent use of single quotation

marks for "thoughts," and combinations of dashes with other

punctuation, have not been changed (except for occasional silent

insertion of missing quotation marks). First instances of some

unusual spellings (whether or not in accordance with the author's

usual practise), and obvious typographical errors, are followed

by {sic} to indicate that there has not been a mistake in

transcription. Because of the limitations of the .TXT format,

italicized foreign words (mostly French) are transcribed in

ordinary type, and accents are omitted; words italicized for

emphasis, or to emulate dialect or incorrect pronunciation, are

transcribed as capitals.}

ELINOR WYLLYS: OR, THE YOUNG FOLK OF LONGBRIDGE. A TALE.

BY AMABEL PENFEATHER.

{Pseudonym of Susan Fenimore Cooper (1813-1894),

daughter of James Fenimore Cooper (1789-1851)}

"Familiar matter of today;

Some natural sorrow, loss or pain,

That has been, and may be again."

WORDSWORTH

{William Wordsworth (English poet, 1770-1850), "The Solitary

Reaper" lines 22-24}

IN TWO VOLUMES,

VOL. I.

EDITED BY J. FENIMORE COOPER

EDITOR'S PREFACE.

THERE is so much of mystification resorted to, at the present

time, in the publication of books, that it has become proper that

the editor of Elinor Wyllys should explain what has been his own

connection with this particular work.

The writer of this book is a valued female friend, who had a

right to ask, and did ask, its editor's advice and assistance, in

presenting it to the public. This advice and assistance have been

cheerfully afforded, though neither has properly extended to the

literary character of the work. As the author has not wished to

appear, the name of the editor has been used in obtaining the

copy-right, and his assistance given in forwarding and returning

proof-sheets. Over a few of the last, the editor has cast an eye;

but, believing the author of the book to be fully competent

herself, to superintend her own work, as it has gone through the

press, this supervision on the part of the editor has been very

slight.

The editor has great confidence in the principles, taste, and

intelligence of the real author of Elinor Wyllys. She has seen

much of that portion of the world with which a lady becomes

acquainted, and has seen that much under the most favorable

circumstances. As usually happens in such cases, her book will be

found free from exaggerations of every sort; and will be more

likely to be well received by persons of her own class, than by

those who are less familiar with its advantages. Imagination,

feeling, sound principles, and good taste, are all to be found in

this book, though in what degree, the public will necessarily

decide for itself.

J. FENIMORE COOPER.

Philadelphia, Oct. 8, 1845.

PREFACE

IT will be well, perhaps, that the reader bear in mind, while

running over the following pages, that many passing observations,

many trifles, which naturally find their way into any sketch of

social life, refer chiefly to things and notions in favour some

ten years since; a period which is certainly not beyond the

memory of man, but very possibly beyond the clear recollection of

some young lady reader, just within her teens. New opinions, new

ideas, new fashions have appeared among us since then, and made

their way perceptibly. Twenty years' possession constitutes a

legal title, if we may believe the lawyers; but a single season

is often sufficient for a new fancy--fancies of a serious nature

too, sometimes--to take full possession of the public mind, and

assume arbitrary control of the premises for the time being, at

least.

It will be more honest to confess, at once, before the reader

undertakes the first chapter, that the tale now before him is a

first appearance in print--a first appearance, too, of one who,

even now that the formidable step is taken, feels little disposed

to envy the honours of authorship. Writing may be a very pleasant

pastime; but printing seems to have many disagreeable

consequences attending every stage of the process; and yet, after

all, reading is often the most irksome task of the three. In this

last case, however, the remedy is generally easy; one may throw

aside the volume, and abuse the author. If there are books which

MUST be read, stupid or not, owing to the claim of some great

name on the binding, the present story is not one of the number;

and perhaps the perfect liberty enjoyed by the reader under such

circumstances--to like or dislike independent of critics, to cut

every leaf, or skip a dozen chapters at a time without fear of

reproach--will incline him to an amiable mood. It is to be hoped

so; it will be unfortunate if, among many agreeable summer

excursions both on terra firma and in the regions of fancy, the

hour passed at Longbridge should prove a tedious one: in such a

case the fault will belong entirely to the writer of the

narrative, for there are certainly some very pleasant and very

worthy people among the good folk of Longbridge.

---------, August, 1845.

ELINOR WYLLYS.

CHAPTER I,

"Enter the house, pr'ythee."--

ROGERS.

{Samuel Rogers (English poet, 1763-1855), "Italy: Genevra" line

19. Samuel Rogers befriended James Fenimore Cooper and his family

during their visits to England in 1826-33}

HAD there been a predecessor of Mr. Downing in the country, some

five-and-twenty year since, to criticise Wyllys-Roof, the home of

our friend Elinor, his good taste would no doubt have suggested

many improvements, not only in the house itself, but also in the

grounds which surrounded it. The building had been erected long

before the first Tudor cottage was transported, Loretto-like,

across the Atlantic, and was even anterior to the days of Grecian

porticoes. It was a comfortable, sensible-looking place, however,

such as were planned some eighty or a hundred years since, by men

who had fortune enough to do as they pleased, and education

enough to be quite superior to all pretension. The house was a

low, irregular, wooden building, of ample size for the tastes and

habits of its inmates, with broad piazzas, which not only

increased its dimensions, but added greatly to the comfort and

pleasure of the family by whom it was occupied.

{"Downing" = Andrew Jackson Downing (1815-1852), noted American

rural architect and landscape gardener; "Loretto-like" = after

Loreto, in Italy, where, according to tradition, a brick Holy

House was miraculously conveyed through the air by angels in

1294}

The grounds were of the simplest kind. The lawn which surrounded

the house was merely a better sort of meadow, from which the

stones and briars had been removed with more care than usual, and

which, on account of its position, received the attention of one

additional mowing in the course of the summer. A fine wood, of a

natural growth, approached quite near to the house on the

northern side, partially sheltering it in that direction, while

an avenue of weeping elms led from the gate to the principal

entrance, and a row of locusts, planted at equal distances, lined

the low, rude stone wall which shut out the highway. One piazza

was shaded by noble willows, while another was faced by a row of

cherry trees, flanked by peach and pear. Fruit trees, although so

common and so lavish of their blessings in this climate, are

often gathered about American country-houses, instead of being

confined to gardens devoted to the purpose, as in Europe; a habit

which pleasantly reminds us that civilization has made a recent

conquest over the wilderness in this new world, and that our

forefathers, only a few generations back, preferred the trees of

the orchard to those of the forest, even for ornament. Fruit

trees are indeed beautiful objects when gay with the blossoms of

spring, or rich with the offerings of summer, and, mingled with

others, are always desirable about a dwelling as simple and

unpretending in its character as Wyllys-Roof. Beneath the windows

were roses and other flowering shrubs; and these, with a few

scattered natives of the soil--elm, hickory, sycamore, and tulip

trees--farther from the house, were the only attempts at

embellishment that had been made. The garden, surrounded by a

white paling, was thought an ornamental object, and lay within

full view of the drawing-room windows; and yet it was but a

mixture of the useful and the beautiful, in which the former

largely predominated. As a kitchen-garden it was certainly

excellent; but the narrow flower-borders, which surrounded the

ample beds of melons and strawberries, asparagus and

cauliflowers, would have appeared meanly furnished in the eyes of

a flower-fancier of the present day. There was not a hybrid among

them, nor a single blossom but what bore a plain, honest name;

and although there were lilies and roses, pinks and violets in

abundance, they would probably have been all rooted out by your

exclusive, fashionable gardener of the last summer, for they were

the commonest varieties only. There were but two walks on the

lawn; one of these was gravelled, and led to the garden-gate; the

other was a common foot-path leading to the river, where the

gentlemen of the family kept their boats, and where the cattle,

who often grazed on the lawn, went to drink. The grounds were

bounded on one side by a broad river, on the other by a

sufficiently well-travelled highway. What particular river and

highway these were, through what particular state and county they

ran, we do not think it incumbent on us to reveal. It may easily

be inferred, however, that Wyllys-Roof belonged to one of the

older parts of the country, at no great distance from the

seaboard, for the trees that shaded the house were of a growth

that could not have been reached by any new plantation in a

western settlement.

{"particular state..." = Longbridge, we learn, has steamboat

connections to New York City, while steamboat connections to

Philadelphia are from nearby Upper Lewiston; in the course of the

story, one of the first railroads in America comes through town;

this suggests, if anywhere, New Jersey. Judicial matters take

place in Philadelphia, which would seem to place Longbridge in

Pennsylvania. It is not clear, however, that the author had any

specific location in mind}

The interior arrangements of Wyllys-Roof corresponded very

naturally with the appearance of things outside. The ceilings

were low, and the apartments small and numerous; much room had

been thrown into broad, airy passages, while closets and

cupboards abounded. The whole of the lower floor had originally

been wainscoted, but Miss Agnes Wyllys was answerable for several

innovations in the principal rooms. When Mr. Wyllys decided to

make his country-place a permanent residence, his daughter, who

was at the head of his establishment, fancied that the furniture

they had brought from their house in town could not be

advantageously disposed of, without cutting folding-doors between

the drawing-rooms. It was fortunate that a couple of adjoining

rooms admitted of this arrangement, for at that day, two

drawing-rooms of equal size, united by wide folding-doors, were

considered a necessary of life to all American families "on

hospitable thought intent." It seems to have been only very

recently that any other arrangement has been found possible, an

important discovery, which, like many others that have preceded

it, was probably the happy effect of necessity, that mother of

invention. Mr. Wyllys having cut through the partition, was next

persuaded to take down the wainscoting, and put up in its place a

French paper, very pretty in its way, certainly, but we fear that

Miss Agnes had no better reason to give for these changes than

the fact that she was doing as her neighbours had done before

her. Miss Wyllys was, however, little influenced in general by

mere fashion, and on more important matters could think for

herself; this little weakness in favour of the folding-doors may

therefore be forgiven, and justly ascribed to the character of

the age in which she lived and gave tea-parties.

{"on hospitable thought intent" = John Milton (English poet,

1608-1674), "Paradise Lost", Book V, line 332}

For several years after they removed permanently to Wyllys-Roof,

the family, strictly speaking, consisted of Mr. Wyllys, his

unmarried daughter, and the usual domestics, only. They were

seldom alone, however; they had generally some friend or relative

with them, and in summer the house was often filled to

overflowing, during the whole season, with parties of friends, or

the different branches of a large family connection; for the

Wyllyses had their full share of that free spirit of hospitality

which seems characteristic of all classes of Americans. After a

time, however, another member was received into the family. This

was the orphan daughter of Mr. Wyllys's eldest son, an engaging

little girl, to whom her grandfather and aunt were called upon to

fill the place of the father and mother she had lost. The little

orphan was too young, at the time, to be aware, either of the

great affliction which had befallen her, or of her happy lot in

being committed to such kind guardians, in merely exchanging one

home for another.

The arrival of the little Elinor at Wyllys-Roof was the only

important event in the family for some ten or twelve years; the

Wyllyses were not much given to change, and during that period

things about them remained much as they have just been described.

We defer presenting the family more especially to the reader's

notice until our young friend Elinor had reached her seventeenth

birth-day, an event which was duly celebrated. There was to be a

little party on the occasion, Miss Agnes having invited some

half-dozen families of the neighbourhood to pass the evening at

Wyllys-Roof.

The weather was very warm, as usual at the last of August; and as

the expected guests were late in making their appearance, Mr.

Wyllys had undertaken in the mean time to beat his daughter at a

game of chess. Elinor, mounted on a footstool, was intent on

arranging a sprig of clematis to the best advantage, in the

beautiful dark hair of her cousin Jane Graham, who was standing

for that purpose before a mirror. A good-looking youth, whom we

introduce without farther ceremony as Harry Hazlehurst, was

watching the chess-players with some interest. There were also

two ladies sitting on a sofa, and as both happened at the time to

be inmates of Wyllys-Roof, we may as well mention that the

elderly gentlewoman in a cap was Mrs. Stanley, the widow of a

connection from whom young Hazlehurst had inherited a large

property. Her neighbour, a very pretty woman, neither young nor

old, was Mrs. George Wyllys, their host's daughter-in-law, and,

as her mourning-dress bespoke her, also a widow. This lady was

now on a visit to Wyllys-Roof with her young children, whom, as

she frequently observed, she wished to be as much as possible

under the influence of their father's family.

Mr. Wyllys's game was interrupted for a moment, just as he was

about to make a very good move; a servant came to let him know

that a drunken man had been found under a fence near the house.

The fellow, according to Thomas's story, could not be roused

enough to give a straight account of himself, nor could he be

made to move.

"Is it any one you know, Thomas?" asked Mr. Wyllys.

"No, sir, it's no one from hereabouts. I shouldn't wonder if he

was a sailor, by the looks of his trowsers and jacket. I guess it

is some loafer on his way to Longbridge."

What could be done with him? was the question. The ladies did not

seem to like the idea of having a drunken man, whom no one knew,

brought into the house at night.

"I dare say it is the same person I heard asking the way to

Wyllys-Roof this morning, when we stopped at the turnpike-gate,"

observed Mrs. Stanley. "He looked at the time as if he had been

drinking."

Elinor suggested that possibly it might be some old sailor, who

fancied he had a claim upon Mr. Wyllys's kindness--Mr. George

Wyllys having died a commander in the navy.

Harry volunteered to go out and take a look at him, and the party

in the drawing-room awaited the result of this reconnoitring

{sic}. At the end of five minutes Hazlehurst returned with his

report.

"As far as I can judge by the help of moonlight and a lantern, it

is no very prepossessing personage. He swore at me roundly for

disturbing him, and I take it the fellow is really a sailor. I

asked him what he wanted at Wyllys-Roof, but we could not make

anything out of him. To keep him from mischief, we locked him up

in one of the out-houses. It is to be hoped in the morning he

will be sober enough to tell his errand."

The matter thus settled, nothing farther was thought of it at the

time, and in another moment the game of chess was won, and the

flower secured in a becoming position. Mrs. Stanley had been

watching Elinor's movements with a smile.

"You are an expert hair-dresser; the flowers are much prettier as

you have arranged them," said the lady to her young friend.

"Is it not a great improvement? They looked heavy as Jane had

arranged them before--I have taken out more than half," replied

Elinor.

Mrs. George Wyllys looked up from the newspaper she was reading,

and suggested a change.

"I think the clematis would look better on the other side."

"Do you really think so, Aunt Harriet? I flattered myself I had

been very successful: it strikes me that it looks very well."

"What is it that looks so well, ladies?" said Mr. Wyllys, rising

from the chess-table and drawing near the young people. "The

flower? Yes, the flower and the face are both very pretty, my

dear. What is it? a honeysuckle?"

"No indeed, grandpapa," answered Elinor, "it is a clematis--this

is a honeysuckle, a monthly honeysuckle, which Jane had twisted

with it; but to my fancy the clematis is prettier alone,

especially as it is so precious--the very last one we could

find."

"Why don't you put the honeysuckle in your own hair, Nelly? it is

a very pretty flower. Being queen of the evening, you should

certainly wear one yourself."

"Oh, I never wear flowers, grandpapa; I cannot make them look

well in my hair. This bouquet must proclaim my dignity to-night."

"It is pretty enough, certainly, my child, for any dignity--"

"Is it not rather large?" said Harry. "Why, Elinor, you have

smothered my humble offering in a whole wilderness of sweets!"

"Not quite as bad as that," said Elinor, smiling--"I only put

with yours, a few Aunt Agnes and Miss Patsey gave me--look at

Jane's if you wish to see a bouquet of a reasonably fashionable

size."

"Bouquets are worn very large this summer," said Jane Graham, in

a languid tone, resting her beautiful eyes on the bunch in her

hand.

"Fashion even in flowers!" exclaimed Mr. Wyllys.

"So it would seem," replied Elinor, smiling.

"And, pray," said Harry, taking a rose from a vase near him, "if

a friend were to offer a flower for your belt, since you will not

place one in your hair, would fashion permit it to be worn?"

"I don't believe it would, Nelly," said her grandfather.

Elinor looked just a little embarrassed, and a little pleased.

"Thank you," she said, taking the rose Harry offered; and while

securing it in her sash, she felt that she coloured. But the

flush was scarcely observed on a cheek as dark as hers.

"Well, Agnes, it is high time your friends came, unless they

expect a rout," said Mr. Wyllys, stepping towards a window to

look out. "Who are we to have?"

{"rout" = a large evening party}

"Your new neighbours, sir, the Taylors; your old friends, the

Hubbards, Van Hornes, Bernards--"

"I hope you will like the Taylors, Agnes; but I don't know much

about them. I am glad you thought of asking them this evening,

for he brought me a letter, you remember, from New York."

{"letter" = a letter of introduction}

"As there is a young lady in the family, and a son just grown up,

I thought they might like to dance," replied Miss Agnes. She then

turned to Mrs. Stanley, and asked that lady, who lived in New

York, if she knew anything of these new neighbours of theirs.

"I never heard of them," replied Mrs. Stanley. "But they may be

very important people, and make a great deal of noise, for all

that; as I only see my old friends, and live so quietly myself, I

don't even know the names of half the people who pass for

fashionable."

"I never suspected our new neighbours of being fashionable,"

replied Mr. Wyllys; "but I hope they will turn out pleasant,

sensible people, for your sake, ladies; and, then, if Taylor is a

chess-player, that will leave nothing farther to be desired."

"Here comes somebody, at last!" exclaimed Mrs. George Wyllys,

hearing a carriage. "The Van Hornes, I suppose."

"I beg your pardon," said Hazlehurst, who was standing near the

window, "that is the Taylor equipage; why the 'tastiness' of the

Taylor barouche is visible even by moonlight."

{"barouche" = four-wheeled carriage with room for four passengers

inside}

The party in the carriage, consisting of father and mother, son

and daughter, soon alighted, and appeared in the drawing-room.

They were introduced by Mr. Wyllys, and received politely by his

daughter and her niece.

"I am gratified, sir," said the tall and thin Mr. Taylor, with a

pompous tone, "in having so early an opportunity of making our

ladies mutually acquainted."

"We shall hope to see your family often, Mr. Taylor," replied his

host. "You must not forget that we are near neighbours; and we

country folk think a great deal of neighbourhood, I assure you."

"Yes; of course the restraints of society must be much greater in

a city, than in a more sparsely settled section."

"I hope your new purchase suits you on farther examination. The

farm is certainly a very good one; but the house, I should think,

must want repairs."

"It does, sir; I calculate to build, however, next year. The

present dwelling is much too small."

"The house might suit us, I think," observed Mrs. Taylor, who,

with Miss Agnes, had taken a seat, while the young people were

standing, chatting, near them. "If husband would put up a

back-building, we should have room enough."

Miss Wyllys remarked, that even a small addition, often increased

very much the convenience of a house.

"Certainly, madam; but I apprehend, if I had added wings and a

back-building to the premises, as I first intended, Mrs. Taylor

would still have found the house not sufficiently spacious. Now

our young ladies and gentlemen are growing up, we must have, more

room for company."

"Well," added his wife, "I expect to see a good deal of tea and

dinner company, next summer, with the house as it is."

"The young people will be much obliged to you for your kind

intentions, Mrs. Taylor; ours is not a very gay neighbourhood,"

said Miss Wyllys.

"So I should conclude," remarked Mr. Taylor.

"I don't know, Agnes," said her father; "if you include

Longbridge in the neighbourhood, I think we may call ourselves a

gay set."

"True, sir," said Miss Agnes; "but as we seldom go there

ourselves in the evening, it had not struck me in that light. But

very possibly, Mrs. Taylor and her young ladies may be more

enterprising than Elinor and myself."

"Four miles, madam," interposed Mr. Taylor, "with a good vehicle

and good horses, is no great distance. Longbridge seems to be in

a very flourishing condition, sir;" turning to Mr. Wyllys.

"Yes, the place is looking up; they are very busy just now. They

are building a good deal, this summer."

"I observed several tasty mansions, in what may be called the

suburbs; in particular a brick edifice, being erected, I

understand, by Joseph P. Hubbard."

"The brick house near the bridge? Yes, it will be the largest

about here. Hubbard is building it more to please his daughters

than himself, I fancy."

"It promises a great display of taste--I observe he has reserved

half his lot, in front of the mansion, for a park."

"Hem--Yes, there will be just half an acre in it. Does Hubbard

call it a park?" asked Mr. Wyllys, with an amused expression

about his eyes.

"I applied the term myself," replied the knowing Mr. Taylor. "I

was altogether much pleased with the appearance of your village,

sir. It has a lively business for such a small place--things

really look quite citified there. If I had seen Mr. Hubbard's

mansion, before concluding my bargain for my present location, I

think I should have made him an offer."

"I am very glad you did not, husband. I was brought up on a farm,

Miss Wyllys, and I am very happy that we have got in the open

country. Besides, Mr. Hubbard's house will be too large for

comfort."

"Ha, ha!" faintly laughed Mr. Taylor; "you seem to like room out

of doors better than within, Mrs. Taylor."

At this moment two persons walked quietly into the room, and were

received very kindly by Miss Wyllys and Elinor. One was a woman

of about forty, plainly, but neatly dressed, with a pleasing

face, remarkable for a simple expression of common sense and

goodness. Her manners corresponded perfectly with her appearance;

they were quiet and pleasant. The lad who accompanied her was a

boy of sixteen, small, and slightly made, with good features, and

an uncommonly spirited and intelligent countenance. They might

very naturally have been taken for mother and son; but they were,

in fact, brother and sister.

"Well, Charlie, my lad," said Mr. Wyllys, placing a hand on the

boy's shoulder, "I hear the important matter is at last under

full consideration."

"Yes, sir; my friends have all but consented; even sister Patsey

is coming round. It will be all settled next week, I hope."

"I wish you joy of your success, Charlie," cried Hazlehurst.

"Not yet, if you please, Mr. Hazlehurst," said Miss Patsey

Hubbard, smiling good-naturedly. "It is only a conditional

consent, Charles, you must remember." Then turning to Mr. Wyllys,

she added--"All our friends seem to agree with you, sir, and Miss

Wyllys: my uncles think Charles ought to show what he has done to

some experienced painters, and have their opinions. We feel very

anxious on the subject."

"Remember to persevere, young man, if you once begin," said Mr.

Wyllys.

"No danger but I shall, sir," said the boy rather proudly.

"I fear, Charles, that half the fault of your obstinacy is thrown

upon my shoulders," said Elinor. "Those Lives of the Painters

were an unfortunate present; they seem quite to have turned your

head; I am afraid Miss Patsey will not soon forgive me."

{"Lives of the Painters" = probably Giorgio Vasari (Italian

writer, 1511-1574), "Lives of the Most Excellent Architects,

Painters and Sculptors" (1550, rev. 1568), a famous and often

reprinted series of biographies of Italian artists, also

frequently cited as "Lives of the Artists."}

"I can't thank you enough for them, Miss Elinor--you don't know

what pleasure I have had with them."

CHAPTER II.

"We'll measure them a measure, and begone."

{William Shakespeare, "Romeo and Juliet", I.iv.10}

The arrival of guests again called the ladies away; they were

followed by others, until the drawing-room was half-filled with

the young people of the neighbourhood, and their parents. Mrs.

Stanley was soon talking with Patsey Hubbard, whom she liked

particularly. The tall and thin Mrs. Bernard, and her friend, the

short and fat Mrs. Van Horne, were regretting with Mrs. George

Wyllys, that she should think the air of Longbridge did not agree

with her children; and lamenting that she should not remain at

Wyllys-Roof until November, according to her first intention.

Charlie was deep in a volume of fine engravings. Young Taylor was

standing; in a corner, looking handsome, but awkward, and out of

place. Mr. Taylor, the father, was aiming at making himself

'affable' to everybody he knew; he liked to be called the

'affable' Mr. Taylor. The last of the party to arrive, were Mr.

and Mrs. Clapp; a couple, who were by no means equally liked by

their hosts. The husband was a Longbridge lawyer, whose views and

manners were not much admired at Wyllys-Roof; and he would

probably never have found his way there, had he not married one

of their old friends and favourites, Kate Hubbard, a younger

sister of Miss Patsey's--one who from childhood had always been

welcome among them. William Cassius Clapp had curly hair, bright

black eyes, and pink cheeks--and, consequently, was generally

thought an Adonis: his wife was a diminutive little creature,

quite pretty, and very amiable; a sort of mixture of Miss Patsey

and Charlie, without the more striking qualities of either. Some

of her friends had thought her thrown away upon Clapp; but she

seemed perfectly satisfied after five years' experience, and

evidently believed her husband superior in every way to the

common run of men. Holding it to be gross injustice towards the

individuals whom we bring before the reader, to excite a

prejudice against them in the very first chapter, we shall leave

all the party to speak and act for themselves; merely

endeavouring to fill the part of a 'faithful chronicler,'

ourselves.

Mr. Taylor had been looking, with a mixed expression of surprise

and curiosity, at the person he had heard addressed as Miss

Patsey Hubbard, when the lady remarked his manner, and, smiling

quietly, she bowed to him. The bow was returned; and Mr. Taylor

crossed the room, to renew an acquaintance with the woman, who,

three-and-twenty years before, had refused to become his wife.

Mr. Pompey Taylor had, however, risen too much in the world,

since then--according to his own estimation, at least--he had

become too rich and too prosperous, not to look back with great

equanimity, on what he now considered as a very trifling

occurrence. While he was addressing Miss Patsey in his most

polished manner, just marked with an extra-touch of 'affability,'

for her especial benefit, he could not but wonder that her

countenance should still wear the same placid, contented air as

of old; it seemed, indeed, as if this expression had only been

confirmed by time and trials. He began to think the accounts he

had occasionally heard, of his old flame, must have been

incorrect; it was scarcely possible she should look so calm, and

even cheerful, if her father, the Presbyterian minister, had

actually left her not only penniless, but burdened with the

support of a bed-ridden step-mother, and a house full of younger

brothers and sisters. We leave him to satisfy his curiosity as

well as he could.

When was there ever an evening too warm for young people to

dance! Elinor's friends had not been in the room half an hour,

before they discovered that they were just the right number to

make a quadrille agreeable. They were enough to form a double

set; and, while they were dancing, the elder part of the company

were sitting in groups near the windows, to catch the evening

air, and talking over neighbourly matters, or looking on at their

young friends.

"Don't you think Elinor very graceful?" exclaimed Mrs. Van Horne

to her friend, Mrs. Bernard. "I like to watch her, while she is

dancing; her movements are all so pleasing and easy, never, in

the least, exaggerated--but, it is in her very nature; she has

always been the same, from a little creature."

"Yes," replied Mrs. Bernard; "but it is a pity her face should be

so ugly; for she has rather a pretty figure--"

"Do you think her really ugly? She does not strike me, as so very

plain--there is nothing repulsive in her face. I have known girls

called pretty, who had something far nearer coarseness in their

features. It is true, I have been accustomed to see her from the

time she was four years old; and, I know, she is always thought

very plain by strangers."

"Why, my dear Mrs. Van Horne, she has not one feature that can be

called good; and her eye-brows are so heavy, and her complexion

is so thick and dark, too!"

"Yes, it is true, she is very dark; and that is a pity; if she

were only fairer, her features would appear to greater

advantage."

"Just look at her now," said Mrs. Bernard, "as she is standing by

her cousin, Jane Graham, who is dancing with your son. Was there

ever a greater contrast?"

"But Jane is so remarkably pretty--"

"Certainly, she is a perfect little beauty; and that is one

reason, perhaps, why Elinor strikes us as so plain; she is so

much with her cousin--"

"Well," said Mrs. Van Horne, "if you are going to quarrel so

much, with my little friend's face, we had better find something

else to talk about; for she is a very great favourite of mine."

"And justly--I dare say.--But, I am a great admirer of beauty,

you know; and I cannot keep my eyes off Jane's lovely face."

The conversation then turned upon the Hubbards.

"Charlie, it seems, is actually going to be a painter," observed

Mrs. Bernard. "Miss Patsey tells me, he is so bent on it, that

she thinks there is no use in opposing it any longer; though, Mr.

Clapp says, it is a wretched plan."

"I hope Charles may succeed; he is a fine boy; and I shall be

very sorry, for Patsey's sake, if he turns out badly. She is very

anxious about him, I know."

"They have been so fortunate, with the rest of the family, that,

I hope, they will be able to keep Charlie straight. I see Miss

Patsey is talking to Mrs. Taylor; they are old friends, perhaps.

Do you know anything about these Taylors?"

"Nothing but what my husband told me. He is a merchant in New

York, and very rich;--made his money quite lately; and the

business-men think a good deal of him."

"He seems to have a great deal to say for himself. Have you

called on Mrs. Taylor?"

"We were there yesterday. She is a quiet, plain woman. The young

man is good-looking, but very shy and awkward. The daughter seems

very lively."

"Yes, and she is quite pretty, too. She will be a belle, I dare

say."

"I hope Mrs. Taylor will send her younger children to Patsey's

school."

"I wish she may; it will be a good thing for Miss Patsey, and

make up her dozen. You know, she will not take more than twelve,

as she keeps the largest room in the house for her mother."

"How kind and faithful Patsey has been to her step-mother! Just

as she is, though, to everybody else; and she does it all in such

a quiet, consistent way. I am glad to see her here to-night--she

enjoys a little society, once in a while; and yet no one can

persuade her to go out, except Miss Wyllys."

"She has come in honour of her pupil's birthday, I suppose. You

know, Elinor Wyllys was her first scholar. By-the-bye, do you

know what I heard, the other day? They say, in Longbridge, that

Mr. Hazlehurst is engaged to one of the young ladies here;

though, to which, my informant did not say."

"There is no truth in it, you may be sure--they are too much like

brother and sister, to think of it. Besides, Mr. Hazlehurst is

going abroad, shortly."

"I did not know that. Where is he going?"

"He told my son, yesterday, that he was going to Europe, for two

years, to take care of his brother, Mr. Robert Hazlehurst, who

has never recovered from the fall he had last winter; and the

physicians have ordered him to travel."

At that moment the ladies were joined by Miss Agnes.

"I hear, Miss Wyllys," said Mrs. Bernard, "that Mr. Hazlehurst is

going to Europe. He will be very much missed, at Longbridge."

"Yes, we shall miss him, here, very much," replied Miss Wyllys;

"Harry has been with us more than ever, this summer. But, his

brother is not in a state to travel alone, nor fit to take care

of his wife and children, who go with him; and, although the plan

is a sudden one, and interferes with Harry's law-studies, yet his

friends all think a visit to Europe may be a great advantage to

him."

The ladies agreed that it was a very good arrangement, and some

inquiries were made as to Mr. Robert Hazlehurst's health; and a

discussion of bruises and falls, nerves and dyspepsia, followed.

Soon after, the quadrille broke up.

"Well, Miss Jane," cried Mrs. Bernard, as several young people

drew near, "I hear that your sister, Mrs. Robert Hazlehurst, is

going to Europe; if I were you, I would not be left behind."

"I should like to go very well," said the beauty, in a languid

tone; "but, I shall be at school, in New York, next winter."

"Oh, that is a pity! I am sure, you could learn all you want to

know, much better, in Paris. Don't you think she ought to go, Mr.

Hazlehurst?"

"Certainly, ma'am; everybody should go to Paris, if they have a

chance."

"Miss Jane would be such a charming addition to your party.--Two

young people together, you would enjoy yourselves more, and make

it pleasanter for your friends."

Young Hazlehurst made a civil bow to the lady; but he looked as

if he had an opinion of his own on the subject, for comical

expression crossed his face at the moment. Jane had turned in

another direction, and was slowly lisping an answer to a very

animated question of Miss Adeline Taylor's.

"Yes; I was at Mrs. G-----'s school, last year; and, I am going

there again."

"Well, I positively think I must go there, too, for my last

winter. Mrs. G-----'s school is all the fashion, now. All the

young ladies she turns out, are very lively. Miss Hubbard, the

great belle, was there, you know, before she came out. Don't you

think it would be an excellent plan, Mr. Hazlehurst, for your

cousin and me to be chums? I declare, I wish you were going, too,

Miss Wyllys."

"Thank you. I have never been to school, in my life; and it is

rather late, to begin now."

"Never been to school! What dull times you must have had at home!

You don't know what fine fun we have, at school; it is next to

going into company. I wouldn't stay at home, for the world. Why

didn't you go?"

"Well, I really don't know why. Perhaps, I should have wished to

go, if I had thought it as pleasant as you seem to do, Miss

Taylor."

"And pray, if I may ask, what made it so very pleasant?" asked

Harry Hazlehurst. "I should like to be initiated into the

delights of a young ladies' boarding-school. Of course, they must

be very different from the rude enjoyments of collegians."

"Oh! it would take me a year, to tell you all about it."

"I shall be most happy to listen all the evening. But, let me

find you a chair, before you commence; you must be tired of

standing," said Harry, with a view to taking a seat himself.

"Me? Oh, no; I never sit down, at a party; I always stand. You

lose half the fun, by sitting down." And, having secured Harry's

attention, the half-fledged belle turned to another youth, within

hailing distance. "Now, what do you think Mr. Hazlehurst has

given me to do, for the next hour, Mr. Van Horne?"

"I am sure, I don't know. Is it something very difficult?

Listening to his pretty speeches, perhaps," said the other.

"Oh dear, no! I don't believe Mr. Hazlehurst can make a tender

speech; I don't believe he has got any heart," said Miss Adeline,

looking an attempt at archness.

"And, pray, what makes you think so, Miss Taylor? Do you judge

from my savage expression?"

"Well, perhaps, you have one;" said the young lady, looking up

bewitchingly. "I suspect, though, you take very good care of it,"

"But this is not fair; you are abusing me, instead of giving us

the delights of your school, as you promised."

"Oh, I had forgotten that. But, I should think, you might guess

what fun we have--a set of wild girls together."

"How should I know anything about it? Pray, be more explicit."

"Well, in the first place, we make a point of getting up an

excitement, at least once a week."

"Like our unruly spirits at college, you break the windows, and

roll cannon-balls, I suppose."

"How you talk! No, indeed. Our last excitement was about the coat

of our Professor of Mathematics. It was such a quizzical cut, we

told Mrs. A., it was morally impossible for us to attend to the

lesson, and study the problems, as long as the man wore it."

"It was unpardonable, in a professor of mathematics, to wear a

coat that was not cut according to rule."

"Now wasn't it? Well, you may be sure, we can always pitch upon

something for an excitement, whenever we're in the humour for it.

And then, we have secrets to tell about our beaux--and we quiz

the new scholars--and we eat candy--and we torment Mrs. A-----;

but, I shan't tell you any more, now; for I must go out on the

piazza, and have a walk--it looks so sweet, out there. You shall

have the rest of the story, if you'll come."

And away tripped the young lady, followed, of course, by the

gentlemen.

Mr. Taylor, who had been moving about the room, making himself

popular by a very bland smile, and, what he considered very

courtly manners, still had time to keep one eye upon his son, who

after an awkward fashion, seemed devoting himself to one or two

of the ladies, and the other, upon his daughter. "Adeline will

make herself conspicuous," thought the gratified father.

"Liny seems to enjoy herself," was the observation of her mother,

who had been sitting quietly at her daughter's elbow, listening

to the conversation just related.

"Two conquests!" thought the young lady herself.

"A lively girl!" was the opinion of young Van Horne.

"Fair game!" said Harry to himself.

While some of the young people were flirting, others dancing, Mr.

Taylor and Mr. Clapp, whose acquaintance had commenced on board a

steamboat that very morning, were walking together up and down

the hall, which they had pretty much to themselves. They touched

on business, which was pronounced very active; and on politics,

which were declared to be particularly dull, just then: Mr.

Clapp, indeed, thought the people much too quiet--shamefully

blind to their own interests, which always demanded what he

called a state of healthful excitement--meaning an unreasonable

excitement upon any subject whatever. There can be no doubt that

Mr. Clapp honestly believed such a state of agitation far more

conducive than quiet to his own interest; for he was quite a

fluent speaker, and very ambitious of a seat in the State

Assembly. He belonged to that school of republicanism, which so

completely identifies the individual with the mass, that it

cannot conceive of any independent opinions, tastes, or

principles; and, very possibly, he persuaded himself the good of

the nation, as well as his personal advantage, required a fresh

brand to be thrown upon the Longbridge council-fire. Having

exchanged opinions with Mr. Clapp upon politics and the market,

Mr. Taylor proceeded to make some observations and inquiries

about the company; he evidently felt some curiosity regarding his

new neighbours, while his companion seemed well disposed to give

him all the information he desired.

"Mr. Wyllys is a man of large property, I conclude," said the

merchant.

Mr. Clapp named the number of thousands usually given to their

host; the amount was much lower than Mr. Taylor had supposed. He

had already discovered that Mr. Wyllys was highly respected by

the Longbridge community in general, and he had taken it for

granted that he must be the richest man in the neighbourhood; but

he now found that this was far from being the case. Mr. Wyllys,

though in easy circumstances, could not command half as much

money as several business men about him.

"THERE is a good fortune for you," said Mr. Clapp; "the lady on

the sofa; her property does not lie here, though. The real estate

is mostly in Carolina and Philadelphia. Did you see the young

gentleman who has just gone out on the piazza with your

daughter--Mr. Hazlehurst? At the demise of the widow, it all goes

to him; but in the mean time he has only two thousand a year--it

will be full twenty, altogether, if well managed," said Mr.

Clapp, running his fingers through the black locks which his wife

thought so handsome.

{"fortune" = short for a woman of fortune; an heiress}

"Mrs. Stanley is the old lady's name, is it not? The young

gentleman is her grandson, I conclude."

"Not at all; only a nephew by marriage," replied the lawyer,

pulling up his collar. "He may feel much obliged to Mr. Stanley

for feathering his nest so well. But Hazlehurst is a very good

fellow; I always liked him from the time he was a little shaver."

"The testator had no children of his own to inherit, I suppose,"

remarked Mr. Taylor.

"No sir; the only child of the first wife died just before his

father--the lady in the other room had no family. Mr. Stanley had

not a single near relation in the world; he bequeathed fifty

thousand dollars to an Orphan Asylum, and left his widow a

life-estate in one-half the remainder; which, at her death, goes

in a lump, real estate and personals, to young Hazlehurst, who is

the son of an old friend, and a nephew by marriage."

{"personals" = personal property}

"Some four hundred thousand dollars, I think you said; that would

make a fine capital for a young man to open business with!"

"But show me the young man who, with four hundred thousand to

begin with, will not spend it instead of making more! No, sir;

give me a man with small means and a sharp wit for his stock in

trade, rather than a hundred thousand down; ten to one the first

winds up the better man by a good round sum. I should not wonder

at all to find myself a richer man than Harry Hazlehurst by the

time I am fifty."

"What splendid operations he might engage in, though!"

"If he wanted to, he could not touch the money now; it is all in

the widow's hands until he is five-and-twenty, excepting the

allowance of two thousand a year which she gives him, now he is

of age."

After a little more conversation of the same nature--in which the

Van Hornes and the Bernards came in for their share of the

appraisal, Mr. Clapp concluded by the offer of an introduction.

"Shall I introduce Mrs. Stanley to you? I am very well

acquainted. I was raised in the same part of the country she came

from. She is a very agreeable lady in conversation."

Mr. Taylor had not the least objection to make the acquaintance

of any human being enjoying an estate of four hundred thousand

dollars. He assented, and following Mr. Clapp into the

drawing-room, the introduction took place without farther

preface. Mrs. Stanley had been conversing with Miss Patsey and

Elinor; she was rather taken by surprise when Mr. Clapp,

advancing before her, said, with a flourish, "Mr. Taylor, Mrs.

Stanley." Both the gentlemen were received by her with as much

quiet coolness as was consistent with civility to her friend's

guests. She had lately been often annoyed by Mr. Clapp's

officious attentions, and was at a loss to account for them,

until she remembered he might be wishing to obtain a share in the

management of her affairs.

Having succeeded in bringing about the introduction, Mr. Clapp

turned to Elinor.

"I hear strange stories in Longbridge about you, Miss Wyllys,"

said Mr. Clapp.

There was as yet no individual in the little world known to

Elinor, more trying to her temper than the husband of her friend,

Kate Hubbard. There was a smirking impertinence in Mr. Clapp's

manner, of which it seemed impossible for him to divest himself,

for it was often most conspicuous when he wished to make himself

most agreeable; and no wonder this was the case, for it was a

quality natural to him. The simple feeling of genuine respect and

deference, so grateful to the heart where sincerely felt, was one

he had never had the happiness to know. On the present occasion

Elinor was not a little provoked with him, and something of the

feeling might have been traced in her expression. We have heard

of brilliant black eyes, that never appeared more beautiful than

when flashing with passion. Those of our friend Elinor were small

and grey; indignation, therefore, may not have been so becoming

to them.

"Scarcely worth remembering, I fancy," she replied; and then made

some observation about Mrs. Hubbard, to turn the conversation.

The raillery and pleasantry of a man with no more tact, or true

delicacy, than William Cassius Clapp, was more than even Elinor's

sweet temper could have borne.

Mr. Wyllys had taken a seat near Mrs. Taylor.

"We have not seen all your young people yet, I believe, Mrs.

Taylor."

"Oh, no, sir--I have six at home, besides the two here. Thomas

and Adeline are my eldest; the rest are hardly old enough to go

out; to parties--though Pompey is nearly fifteen."

"You must bring Mr. Pompey, too, next time. Your eldest son tells

me he has just left Yale."

"He graduated last month. I want him to stay at home now until

winter, and then go into business. But his father has taken a

nation of having him go to Europe for six months. Thomas does not

care so much about it; but husband has a great opinion of a

European journey--he talks some of going himself. Some young men

go a whaling to see the world; but Mr. Taylor thinks Thomas had

better have a chance to go to Paris."

"He will probably find Paris the pleasantest trip of the two,"

said Mr. Wyllys, smiling. "Young Hazlehurst is going abroad, too;

he sails next week, with his brother. What is the name of Harry's

packet, Nelly?" asked her grandfather, taking the young girl's

hand affectionately, as she passed.

Elinor named the vessel; and, from Mrs. Taylor's answer, it

appeared, the young men were to sail in the same ship.

"I am glad to hear that your grandson is going to France, sir; it

will be more sociable, for Thomas to have somebody he knows, in

Paris."

"They will probably meet there. Harry is not my grandson,

however."

"I beg your pardon; but, I understood, that the pretty young

lady, with the white flower in her hair, and the young gentleman

talking to my daughter Adeline, were your grandchildren."

"Oh, no; Miss Graham is my great-niece; and, as for Harry, if I

remember right, he is no relation at all; though, we call him

cousin. I have a house full of little grandchildren, here, just

now, from Baltimore; but they are too young to be out of the

nursery, at this hour. Does Miss Taylor sing?"

"No, sir; Adeline performs on the piano; but she has not any

voice for music; which, I am very sorry for, as I like to hear

young people sing."

"Perhaps, then, you would like to hear my grand-daughter; she

sings me a song every evening, after tea," said Mr. Wyllys, who,

indeed, seemed to think something was wanting to an evening, in

his own house, unless Elinor gave him a little music, of which he

was passionately fond; though, like most American gentlemen, of

his age, he had no knowledge of the art, and no other guide than

a good ear, and good natural taste. Elinor's voice was a full,

sweet contralto, which had been cultivated under the best masters

in Philadelphia; and, as she never attempted what she could not

perform with ease and grace, her music always gave pleasure. One

or two of the other ladies followed her, at the piano--Mary Van

Horne, and a friend who had come with her; but their performance

was very indifferent. It was rarely that one heard anything

approaching to really good amateur music, in this country,

fifteen years ago, at the date of Elinor's seventeenth birthday.

A light supper, and a Virginia reel, concluded the evening; when

the party broke up.

"I hope you are jealous, Elinor," said Harry Hazlehurst, as he

returned into the house, after having attended Miss Adeline

Taylor to the carriage.

"Jealous!--Of what, pray?"

"Of the heart and affections of your humble servant, to be

sure.--You must have observed the snare that Miss Taylor laid for

them."

"Nonsense.--Good night!" and Elinor accompanied her aunt and

cousin up stairs.

CHAPTER III.

"Her playmate from her youth."

ROGERS.

{Samuel Rogers (English poet, 1763-1855), "Italy: Genevra" line

55}

ELINOR had been in her room for some minutes, and was standing in

thought, before an open window, when she turned toward a little

table near her, and, opening a Bible, drew from it a letter. She

raised it to her lips, and, moving toward a light unfolded the

sheet. Tears soon blinded her sight; she was much agitated; then,

becoming calmer, she continued to read. It was a letter of some

length, and every line seemed deeply interesting to the reader.

Once she paused, as if struck by some new thought, and then,

again, she read with some anxiety. She had just finished the last

words, when her door opened, and Miss Agnes entered the room.

"Be calm, my dear child," said her aunt; "it is indeed a precious

letter, and one which we both value highly; your feelings are

only natural, dearest; but do not indulge them to excess." Miss

Wyllys, by her gentle, caressing manner, succeeded in calming

Elinor, when, urging her not to sit up later, she left her niece

for the night.

When Miss Agnes was gone, Elinor fell on her knees, with the

letter still in her hand. She remained some time, apparently in

prayer, and then rising calmly, she folded the sheet, and laid it

on the Bible; and, before her head touched her pillow, the letter

was again removed, and placed beneath it.

We have not the slightest wish to beguile the reader into

believing that Elinor had a mysterious lover, or a clandestine

correspondence; and we shall at once mention, that this letter

was one written years previously, by the mother she had lost; and

her good aunt, according to the direction, had placed it in her

niece's hands, on the morning of her seventeenth birthday.

When Mr. Wyllys went down to breakfast, the next morning, he

inquired if their drunken visiter {sic--the Cooper family's usual

spelling of the word}, of the previous night, had shown himself

again.

"I have just been out, sir, to look after him," said Harry, "and

the fellow does not seem to have liked his night's lodgings. He

broke jail, and was off before any of the men were up this

morning; they found the door open, and the staple off--he must

have kicked his way out; which could easily he done, as the lock

was old."

Elinor suggested that it was, perhaps, some one who was ashamed

of the situation in which he had been found.

"More probably he was too much accustomed to a lock-up house, to

find it pleasant. But if he really had any business here, we

shall hear of him again, no doubt," said Mr. Wyllys. The affair

thus disposed of, the conversation took another turn.

Mr. Wyllys, Elinor's grandfather, was decidedly a clever man. He

had held a high position, in his profession, until he withdrew

from it, and had, at one time, honourably distinguished himself

as a politician. He was well educated, and well read; his

library, at Wyllys-Roof, was, indeed, one of the best in the

country. Moreover, Mr. Wyllys was a philosopher, a member of the

Philosophical Society of Philadelphia; and the papers he read,

before that honourable association, were generally much admired

by his audience. It is even probable that Mr. Wyllys believed

himself endowed with a good stock of observation and experience

in human nature; but, in spite of all these advantages, we cannot

help thinking that, although well-versed in natural philosophy,

this excellent gentleman proved himself quite ignorant of boy and

girl nature. Even his daughter, Miss Agnes, feared her father had

been unwise and imprudent on an occasion which she considered of

great importance.

A great deal might be said in favour of Harry Hazlehurst. Few

young men, of his age, were more promising in character and

abilities. He was clever, and good-tempered; and, with all the

temptations of an easy fortune within his reach, he had always

shown himself firm in principles. There was one trait in his

character, however, which had already more than once brought him

into boyish scrapes, and which threatened, if not corrected, to

be injurious to his career through life. He was naturally

high-spirited; and, having been indulged by his mother, and

seldom controlled by his male guardian, a brother some ten years

older than himself, Harry was rather disposed to be self-willed,

and cherished some false notions regarding independence of

character. His friends hoped, however, that as he grew older, he

would become wiser. Something of this feeling had been mixed up

with the motives which had lately led him to take a decided step

for the future.

>From a boy, Harry had been more or less the companion and

play-fellow of Elinor Wyllys and Jane Graham, whom he looked upon

as cousins, owing to a near family connexion. He had always felt

very differently, however, towards the two girls. Jane, a little

beauty from her birth, had been an indolent and peevish child,

often annoying Harry by selfish interference with their plans and

amusements. Elinor, on the contrary, had always been a favourite

playmate. She was an intelligent, generous child, of an

uncommonly fine temper and happy disposition. As for her plain

face, the boy seldom remembered it. They were both gay, clever

children, who suited each other remarkably well, in all their

little ways and fancies. Now, within the last year, it had struck

Harry that his brother Robert and his sister-in-law, Mrs.

Hazlehurst, were very desirous of making a match between Jane

Graham and himself. He had overheard some trifling remark on the

subject, and had suffered an afternoon's very stupid teasing and

joking, about Jane, from a talkative old bachelor relation. This

was quite sufficient to rouse the spirit of independence, in a

youth of his years and disposition. When, at length, he heard a

proposition that Jane should accompany them abroad, he went so

far as to look upon it as something very like manoeuvring {sic}.

HE was not a man to be led by others, in the choice of a wife.

Jane might be a beauty--no doubt she was--but he had no such

extravagant admiration for mere beauty. There was Elinor, for

instance; she was a very different girl, though without any

beauty; she was just the kind of person he liked. She was so

warm-hearted and generous in her feelings--without a bit of

nonsense; she was so clever--could catch a thought in a moment,

and always understood and enjoyed a good thing. Then her manners,

too, were charming, so simple and natural; while Jane had no

manners at all. Then, everybody said she was remarkably graceful,

in a perfectly natural way;--how well she rode! Jane was even

afraid to mount. And how pleasantly Elinor sang--and he was so

fond of music. Jane would do very well to sit and look at all day

long; but, for walking, talking, riding, singing--ay, for

thinking and feeling, Elinor would make precisely such a

companion as a man of sense would wish for. By dint of dwelling

on Elinor's good qualities, and on what he fancied the plans of

his brother and sister-in-law, he came to the conclusion that the

only thing to be done, under the circumstances, by a man of any

character--by a man who had an opinion of his own, was to go

immediately to Mr. Wyllys, and request his permission to address

Elinor.

Harry was a great favourite with his uncle--from a child the

young man had always given this title to Mr. Wyllys--and he had

more than once expressed to his daughter, a wish that Hazlehurst

and Elinor might, some years thence, take a fancy for each other.

In the mean time he seemed to look upon them as children, and

left matters to take care of themselves. Harry's proposal was,

therefore, quite unexpected at the moment, and took him by

surprise; he seemed to think Hazlehurst decidedly too young, at

present--he had not yet acquired his profession. This little

difficulty in the opening of the affair, merely served to rouse

Harry's eloquence; and as his youth was really the only objection

against him, he succeeded, before long, in obtaining Mr. Wyllys's

cheerful consent to his endeavouring, during the next two months,

to interest Elinor in his behalf.

Miss Agnes, when informed of what had passed, was quite startled;

she thought both parties too young to take so decided a step. But

her father had given his formal consent, and she could not

seriously oppose it; especially when she remembered that she,

also, had more than once indulged the idea that some five or six

years later, Harry would make a very good husband for her adopted

daughter.

No one in the family was more surprised at Harry's advances than

Elinor herself. They had been so much together, ever since she

could remember, and had always been such good friends, in an

open, brother-and-sisterly way, that even in the last year or

two, when indistinct ideas of love and matrimony had

occasionally, like distant events, cast their shadows before,

Harry had never once presented himself to her fancy in the light

of a suitor. It required a day or two for her to comprehend the

full meaning of Harry's proceedings; she could say neither yes,

nor no. This hesitation, very much increased Hazlehurst's

perseverance; but her aunt, who looked on anxiously, had

stipulated that nothing decided should be required of her, until

Harry left them.

In the mean time, a day or two had been sufficient for Mr. Wyllys

to become not only reconciled to the idea, but so well pleased

with the appearance of things, that he amused himself with

looking on at Harry in his new character of a lover; and

generally once a day, had some little joke at the expense of

Elinor's embarrassment. But now, the two months had passed; Harry

was to sail the next week for France--and Elinor, the morning

after her birth-day, was to give a decided answer.

It was no longer very difficult to foresee that this answer would

be favourable. In fact, Harry, who was thoroughly gentlemanly by

nature and habit, had made his attentions just what they ought to

have been under the circumstances; and, with the full approbation

of her own friends, and all Harry's good qualities appearing in

their best light, the two months had proved sufficient to direct

Elinor's childish affection for him into another and a deeper

channel. The letter she had received on the night of her

birth-day, caused a moment's indecision when, the next morning,

after breakfast, as Mrs. Stanley and Mrs. George Wyllys left the

room, her grandfather playfully asked her "what they should do

with Harry?"

But she scarcely knew in what shape to express the thought that

arose in her mind, and the feeling merely gave an additional

touch of embarrassment to her manner, which was only looked upon

as quite natural at the moment.

"I shall think myself very badly treated, Elinor," said Harry,

observing her hesitation, "if you turn me off like a common

acquaintance, after we have been the best friends in the world

for nobody knows how long."

"Well, Nelly," said her grandfather, "what is it, my child? Shall

we tell Harry to go to Paris and cultivate his moustaches, and

forget everything else?"

"Oh, no;" said Elinor, smiling as she held out her hand to

Hazlehurst, though without looking up: "pray, don't come back a

dandy!"

The affair was settled. The young people parted with the

understanding that when Hazlehurst returned from Europe, and had

acquired his profession, they were to be married; and Harry went

to Philadelphia, to join his brother, and make the last

arrangements for their voyage.

Jane, too, left Elinor a few days later; and Miss Wyllys, who had

charge of her--as Mr. and Mrs. Graham lived in Charleston--placed

her at one of the fashionable boarding schools of New York. Miss

Adeline Taylor had, in the mean time, informed her parents that

she had changed her mind as to the school which was to have the

honour of completing her education: she should NOT return to Mrs.

A-----'s, but go to Mrs. G-----'s, which was a more fashionable

establishment. Not that she had anything to complain of at Mrs.

A-----'s; but she thought the young ladies at Mrs. G-----'s

dressed more elegantly, and besides, she felt the impossibility

of remaining separated from Jane Graham, her new bosom friend.

These two young ladies had met twice previously to the evening

they had passed together at Wyllys-Roof; Adeline had upon one

occasion been in the same boat with Jane, going and coming,

between New York and Longbridge, and she had already done all in

her power towards getting up a desperate intimacy. Her mother, as

a matter of course, did not interfere with the young lady's

preference for Mrs. G-----'s school--why should she? It was

Adeline's affair; she belonged to the submissive class of

American parents, who think it an act of cruelty to influence or

control their children, even long before they have arrived at

years of discretion. As for Mr. Taylor, he had discovered that

the daughters of several fashionable families were at Mrs.

G-----'s, and was perfectly satisfied with the change; all he had

to do was, to make out the cheques in one name instead of

another. Adeline managed the whole affair herself; and having at

last been to a young party, for which she had been waiting, and

having satisfied some lingering scruples as to the colours of the

silk dresses which composed the winter uniform of the school, and

which she at first thought frightfully unbecoming to her

particular style of beauty, Miss Taylor one morning presented

herself at Mrs. G-----'s door, and was regularly admitted as one

of the young band in fashionable training under that lady's roof.

Jane, it is true, did not show quite as much rapture at the

meeting as Adeline could have wished; but, then, Miss Taylor had

already discovered that this last bosom-friend was of a calmer

disposition than the dozen who had preceded her.

Harry had not been a day in Philadelphia, before he announced to

his brother, his engagement with Elinor; for he was much too

frank by nature to have any taste for unnecessary mystery.

"I have a piece of news for you, Robert," he said, as he entered

the drawing-room before dinner, and found his brother lying on a

sofa.

"Good news, I hope," replied Mr. Robert Hazlehurst.

"May I not have my share of it?" asked Mrs. Hazlehurst, whom

Harry had not observed.

"Certainly; it is a piece of good fortune to your humble servant,

in which I hope you will both be interested."

"Why, really, Harry," said his sister-in-law, "there is a touch

of importance, with a dash of self-complacency and mystery in

your expression, that look a little lover-like. Have you come to

announce that you are determined to offer yourself to some belle

or other before we sail?"

"The deed is already done," said Harry, colouring a little; as

much, perhaps, from a mischievous satisfaction in the

disappointment he foresaw, as from any other feeling.

"No!" said his brother, turning towards him with some anxiety.

"Offered yourself--and accepted, then; or, of course, you would

not mention it."

"Pray, tell us, Harry, who is to be our new sister," said Mrs.

Hazlehurst, kindly, and with some interest.

"I have half a mind to tease you," he replied, smiling.

"I never should guess," said Mrs. Hazlehurst. "I had no idea you

were attached to any one--had you, Robert?"

"Not I! It must be somebody at Longbridge--he has been there more

than half his time lately. Come, tell us, Harry, like a man; who

is it?" asked Robert Hazlehurst, naturally feeling interested in

his younger brother's choice.

"No one precisely at Longbridge," said Harry, smiling.

"Who can it be?--And actually engaged?" added Mrs. Hazlehurst,

who saw that Harry would not explain himself without being

questioned.

"Engaged, very decidedly, and positively, I am happy to say. Is

there anything so very wonderful in my having declared an

attachment to Elinor; I am sure I have liked her better than any

one else all my life."

"Engaged to Elinor!" exclaimed Robert Hazlehurst, much relieved.

"I am delighted to hear it. It is a wiser step than one would

always expect from a young gentleman of your years."

"Engaged to Elinor! I wish you joy with all my heart," repeated

his sister-in-law. "It had not occurred to me to think of any one

so near and dear to us already; you could not have done better,

Harry," she added, with a perfectly frank, open smile.

To tell the truth, Hazlehurst was not a little surprised, and

rather mortified by this decided approbation--since it proved he

had been unjust, and that he had deceived himself as to what he

had supposed the wishes of his brother, and the plans of his

sister-in-law. He did not, however, for an instant, regret the

step he had taken; his regard for Elinor was too sincere to allow

of any other feeling than that of satisfaction, in remembering

their engagement. But it had now become a matter of indifference

whether Jane were to join the European party or not.

On the appointed day, the Hazlehursts sailed. They went abroad

with more advantages than many others, for they carried with them

good sense, good principles, and a good education, and were well

prepared to enjoy the wide field of observation that lay before

them. There was every reason to hope, from the encouraging

opinions of his physicians, that Mr. Robert Hazlehurst's health

would be entirely restored by travelling; his wife looked forward

to the excursion with much pleasure, and Harry was delighted with

the plan. They had an old family friend in Paris, an excellent

woman, who was in every way qualified to redeem the promises she

had given, of soon making them feel at home in France. Madame de

Bessieres was the widow of a distinguished emigre, and had passed

a long exile with her husband in America. They had been for years

near neighbours of Mr. Wyllys, and this gentleman had had it in

his power, at different times, to render services of some

importance to his French friends. Madame de Bessieres and her

family were grateful for these acts of kindness: she had known

the young people at Wyllys-Roof, and felt an interest in them

all; for their own sakes, as well as from a sincere respect and

regard for Mr. Wyllys and his daughter, this lady was anxious to

show the Hazlehursts every friendly attention in her power. Under

these agreeable auspices, the party left home, expecting to be

absent for a couple of years.

CHAPTER IV.

"Farewell, my lord! Good wishes, praise, and prayers,

Shall Suffolk ever have of Margaret."

Henry VI.

{William Shakespeare, "1 Henry VI", V.iii.173-174}

THE arrival of letters from Harry, often accompanied by something

pretty or useful, as a souvenir for herself, were the principal

events of the next winter, to Elinor. Several months of the cold

weather were passed, as usual, by Mr. Wyllys and his family, in

Philadelphia; and Miss Agnes thought it time that her niece

should make her appearance in society. But Elinor found less

pleasure, than most girls, in the gay world. She was seldom

appreciated, in mixed company; she was too young, at that time,

and too modest, for her intelligence to be generally known or

cared for; while her personal appearance exposed her to be

entirely overlooked and neglected by strangers; it had indeed

occasionally been the cause of mortifications, more deeply felt

by Miss Agnes, than by Elinor herself. People talk so lightly, in

what is called general society; heartless remarks are uttered

with so much careless indifference on all sides, that it was not

surprising some unkind observations should have reached her ear.

It was not until the season that she had been introduced into a

larger circle, that Elinor became better aware of her

disadvantages in this respect. She had been so tenderly loved and

watched over by her grandfather and aunt; she was so generally

liked by those who had been hitherto her companions, that she had

not been aware of all the consequences of her position. She knew

that her appearance was not attractive, while her young friends

were more or less pretty; still, she had thought but little on

the subject, until her introduction into a larger circle led her

to remark the great importance which the world attaches to mere

beauty, in women, at least. But, with this reflection, came also

the gratifying recollection of Harry's regard for her; and it

served indeed to increase very much her attachment to him, by

giving it an additional feeling of gratitude.

Harry's letters were kind and affectionate, and Elinor thought

them very amusing. It was impossible that an intelligent,

well-educated young man, suddenly transported from the New, to

the Old World, should not find a great deal to say; and Harry

told his adventures very agreeably. His letters to Elinor were

almost as straight-forward and matter-of-fact, as they might have

been if she had already become his wife. His brother's health was

improving; so much so, that they were talking of leaving Mrs.

Hazlehurst, and her children, in Paris, while Harry and the

invalid made a six weeks' excursion to England. Madame de

Bessieres had been all kindness, and they were delighted with the

society they met at her house. "Madame de Bessieres remembers you

perfectly," said Harry, in one of his letters, "and as she is

sure, under Aunt Agnes' care, you must have grown up with all the

good and agreeable qualities that she loved you for when a child,

she agrees with your humble servant, in thinking him a very lucky

fellow, and very prudent, in having secured you before he left

home. She is really a most excellent and charming woman, as kind

as possible to Louisa. Her American friends have every reason to

be satisfied with her recollections of them, especially Mr.

Wyllys and Aunt Agnes, whom she evidently appreciates. Her

nephew, young de Guivres, and I, are very good friends already,

and often take a gallop together in the Bois de Boulogne. It is a

settled thing, Elinor, dear, that I am to bring you to France,

one of these days; that is to say, if you have no objections;

which, of course, you will not have. Tom Taylor is here still,

and his progressive steps in civilization are quite amusing, to a

looker-on; every time I see him, I am struck with some new

change--some fresh growth in elegance. I was going to say, that

he will turn out a regular dandy; but he would have to go to

London for that; he will prove rather a sort of second-rate

petit-maitre a la Parisienne; which is entirely a different

creature. It would do your heart good to see Robert; he eats like

a ploughman, if ploughmen ever devour poulets a la Marengo, or

ortolans a la Provencale. I wish I could give as good an account

of Creighton, who arrived in the last packet; poor fellow, he has

not revived at all, and, I fear, will never be better. His wife

is with him; as pretty and agreeable as ever. I hope Bruno

behaves well, and remembers that it is now his chief duty to

devote himself to your service."

{"petit-maitre a la Parisienne" = a ridiculously pretentious

dandy, Parisian-style; "poulets a la Marengo" = chicken Marengo,

a recipe supposedly invented by Napoleon's chef after the Battle

of Marengo in 1800; "ortolans a la Provencale" = ortolans (a

variety of bunting) in the style of southern France (Provence)

(French)}

This was the last letter Elinor received in Philadelphia, for

early in the spring the family returned to the country. She was

never happier than at Wyllys-Roof, and resumed with delight

occupations and amusements, which would have appeared very

insipid to many elegant belles whom she left behind her--since

the mornings were to be passed without visiting or shopping, the

evenings without parties or flirtations. In a quiet country

house, with no other young person in the family, there was of

course, at Wyllys-Roof, very little excitement--that necessary

ingredient of life to many people; and yet, Elinor had never

passed a tedious day there. On the longest summer morning, or

winter evening, she always found enough to occupy her time and

attention.

To her, Wyllys-Roof was home; and that is a word of a broader and

more varied meaning in the country than in a town. The cares, the

sympathies of a country home, embrace a wide circle, and bring

with them pleasures of their own. People know enough of all their

neighbours, to take part in any interesting event that may befall

them; we are sorry to hear that A., the shoemaker, is going to

move away; we are glad to find that B., the butcher, has made

money enough to build a new house. One has some acquaintance with

everybody, from the clergyman to the loafer; few are the faces

that one does not know. Even the four-footed animals of the

neighbourhood are not strangers: this is the Doctor's

Newfoundland dog; that is some old lady's tortoise-shell cat. One

knows the horses, as well as the little urchins who ride them to

water; the cows, and those who milk them. And then, country-folks

are nature's freeholders; they enjoy a full portion of the earth,

the air, the sky, with the thousand charms an ever-merciful

Creator has lavished on them. Every inanimate object--this hill,

that wood, the brook, the bridge, C.'s farm-house, and D.'s

barn--to the very highway, as far as eye can reach, all form

pleasing parts of a country home. In a city, on the contrary, we

live surrounded by strangers. Home is entirely restricted to our

own fire-side. One knows a neighbour's card, perhaps, but not his

face. There may have been a funeral or a wedding next-door, and

we learn it only from the morning paper. Then, even if a fixture

oneself, how is it possible for human sensibilities to cling very

closely to the row of brick houses opposite, which are

predestined to be burned or pulled down in a few years? Nor can

one be supposed to look with much pleasure at the omnibus horses,

or half-starved pigs that may belong to one's street. No doubt,

that with hearts warm and true, we may have a FIRESIDE in town;

but HOME with its thousand pleasant accessories--HOME, in its

fullest meaning, belongs especially to the country.

Elinor was a country girl, born and bred. Though banished from

Chesnut {sic} Street, she would have been well satisfied with the

usual occupations of a country life, varied only by quiet walks

with her aunt, rides with her grandfather, chatty meetings with a

few young companions, or long visits from old friends, whose

names and faces had been familiar to her all her life. The first

few weeks after her return to Wyllys-Roof, she had, of course,

more than usual to see and hear. Elinor had been absent from home

but a few months; yet, even in that short space, she found

changes had occurred in the neighbourhood--varied, as usual--some

of a sad, some of a pleasant nature. Miss Agnes and her niece

found one place vacant among those whom they were in the habit of

seeing often; the father of a family who lived within sight of

their own windows, had died suddenly, and left a widow and

children to struggle with the world: but they were neither

friendless nor repining, and submitted with humble resignation to

their severe affliction, prepared to meet with faith and hope the

additional cares and toils allotted to them. One of Elinor's

young friends, too, was lying on a sick-bed at Longbridge--a

beautiful girl of her own age wasted by consumption; but she was

calm and peaceful, though without hope this side the grave. We

shall scarcely forgive ourselves for making even a distant

allusion to one portion of Elinor's pleasures and labours,

although more especially connected with home; since none could

perform their religious duties with less ostentation, with more

single-hearted sincerity--none could more carefully follow the

precept, to "give with simplicity," than Miss Wyllys, and the

niece she had educated.

{"Chesnut Street" = Chestnut Street, a fashionable street in

Philadelphia}

Of course, the ladies had immediately resumed their intercourse

with their old friends; and they had many neighbourly visits to

pay. Not your formal, fashionable morning calls, lasting just

three minutes, when you are so unfortunate as to find at home the

individual you are paying off; no, indeed; good, honest visits of

nearly an hour's length, giving time to exchange many kindly

inquiries as to the health of all the members of the family, the

condition of the garden, and promises of the crops; and even

occasionally allowing Mr. Wyllys to take a look at some addition

to the live-stock, in the shape of calves, colts, or pigs. Then,

Mrs. Bernard had just moved into a new house, whose comforts and

conveniences must certainly be shown by herself, and appreciated

by her friends. Then, Elinor had to kiss, and make acquaintance

with several tiny pieces of humanity, in white frocks and lace

caps--little creatures born during the past winter; of course,

the finest babies one could wish to see, and the delight of their

parents' hearts. Then, Alida Van Horne was going to be married;

as Elinor was to be her bridesmaid, a great deal of talking and

consulting took place on the occasion, as matter of course. But,

although her time was fully occupied in many different ways, no

day was too pleasant or too busy for more than one thought to be

given to Harry Hazlehurst.

CHAPTER V.

"Anch' io son pittore!"

CORREGGIO.

{"Anch' io son pittore" = "I too, am a painter!" (Italian).

Antonio Allegri da Correggio (Italian painter, 1494-1534),

exclamation on viewing Raphael's "St. Cecilia" at Bologna (1525)}

THERE was one subject, in which the family at Wyllys-Roof felt

particularly interested just then, and that was, Charlie

Hubbard's picture. This piece was to decide finally the question,

whether Charlie should be an artist, or a merchant's clerk; a

question which he himself considered all important, and which

caused much anxiety to his friends.

The house in which the Hubbards lived was a grey, wooden cottage,

of the smallest size; curious gossips had, indeed, often wondered

how it had ever been made to contain a large family; but some

houses, like certain purses, possess capabilities of expansion,

quite independent of their apparent size, and connected by

mysterious sympathies with the heads and hearts of their owners.

This cottage belonged to the most ancient and primitive style of

American architecture; what may be called the comfortable, common

sense order--far superior, one might suppose to either Corinthian

or Composite, for a farm-house. The roof was low, and unequally

divided, stretching, on one side, with a long, curving slope,

over the southern front; which was scarce seven feet high:

towards the road the building was a little more elevated, for a

dormer-window gave it the dignity of a story and a half. Not only

the roof, but the walls--we have classical authority for wooden

walls--were covered with rounded shingles, long since grey, and

in spots, moss-grown. Twice the cottage had escaped a more

brilliant exterior; upon one occasion it had been inhabited by an

ambitious family, who talked of a coat of red paint; fortunately,

they moved away, before concluding a bargain with the painter.

Again, when the Hubbards took possession of the 'old grey house,'

a committee of ladies actually drove over from Longbridge, with

the intention of having it whitewashed; but, the experienced old

negro engaged to clean generally, gave it as his opinion, that

the shingles were not worth the compliment. The windows were very

small; more than half the glass was of the old, blue bull's-eye

pattern, no longer to be found at modern glaziers, and each heavy

window-shutter had a half-moon cut in its upper panel, to let in

the daylight. When we add, that there was a low porch before the

door, with a sweet-briar on one side, and a snowball on the

other, the reader will have a correct idea of the house inhabited

by our friends, the Hubbards.

{"Corinthian or Composite" = two of the classical orders of

architecture, based on the style of column used. The "Composite

order," however, was something of a Cooper family joke, first

used by James Fenimore Cooper in "The Pioneers" (1823) to

describe a pretentious building of no particular style at all.

The Coopers, father and daughter, were contemptuous of buildings

that pretended to be Greek temples}

The cottage stood within a little door-yard, near the gate which

opened on the lawn of Wyllys-Roof; and, immediately opposite the

place recently purchased by Mr. Taylor. Here the family had lived

for the last twelve years; and, from that time, Miss Patsey had

been obliged to struggle against poverty, with a large family of

younger brothers and sisters, dependent, in a great measure, upon

her prudence and exertions.

Mr. Hubbard, the father, a respectable Presbyterian minister, had

been, for half his life, in charge of a congregation in

Connecticut, where, by-the-bye, Mr. Pompey Taylor, at that time a

poor clerk, had been an unsuccessful suitor for Patsey's hand.

After a while, the family had removed to Longbridge, where they

had lived very comfortably and usefully, until, at length, the

minister died, leaving his widow and seven children entirely

unprovided for. Happily, they possessed warm friends and kind

relatives. The old grey house, with a garden and a little meadow

adjoining, was purchased for his brother's family by Mr. Joseph

Hubbard, known to the young people as Uncle Josie: he was a

merchant, in easy circumstances, and cheerfully gave the thousand

dollars required. The cottage was furnished by the minister's

congregation. Many useful presents were made, and many small

debts forgiven by kind neighbours. With this humble outfit the

family commenced their new career. Mrs. Hubbard, the second wife,

and mother of the three younger children, had lost the use of one

hand, by an attack of paralysis. She had always been a woman of

very feeble character; and although treated with unvarying

kindness and respect by her step-children, could do little

towards the government or assistance of the family. It was Patsey

who toiled, and managed, and thought for them all. With the aid

of two younger sisters, mere children, at first, and an old black

woman, who came once a week to wash, all the work was done by

herself, including baking, ironing, cooking, cleaning, &c.; and

yet Patsey found time to give up four hours a day to teaching a

class of some dozen children, belonging to several neighbouring

families. This school furnished the only money that passed

through her hands, and contributed the only regular means of

support to the family. They received, however, much kind

assistance, in many different ways; indeed, otherwise, it would

have been scarcely possible to keep a fireside of their own.

There had been, in all, nine children; but the eldest son, a

missionary, died before his father; the second had already gone

to Kentucky, to seek his fortunes as a physician; he had married

young, and, with children of his own to support, it seemed but

little he could do for his step-mother; he sent for a younger

brother, however, engaging to provide for him entirely. Another

son was educated by his rich Longbridge relative, kind Uncle

Josie; another uncle, a poor old bachelor, known to the

neighbourhood as Uncle Dozie, from a constant habit of napping,

did his utmost, in paying the school-bills of his niece

Catherine. In the course of a few years, Uncle Josie's protege

became an assistant in the school where he had been educated;

Kate Hubbard, Uncle Dozie's favourite, married a quick-witted,

but poor, young lawyer, already introduced to the reader, by the

name of Clapp.

Still, there remained in the family two younger daughters, and

Charlie, besides Miss Patsey and Mrs. Hubbard. By the exertions

and guidance of Patsey, the assistance of friends, and their own

good conduct, the young people, in due time, were all growing up,

endowed with good principles, good educations, and with

respectable prospects opening before them. At the period of our

narrative, the third daughter hoped shortly to become an

under-governess in the school where she had been educated; and

Mary, the youngest of the family, had such a decided taste for

music, that it was thought she would have no difficulty in

supporting herself, by giving lessons, in the course of two or

three years. Of all the family, Charlie was the one that caused

his friends the most anxiety. He was a fine, spirited,

intelligent boy; and Uncle Josie had promised to procure a

situation for him, with his son-in-law, a commission-merchant and

auctioneer, in New York. This plan was very pleasing to Mrs.

Hubbard and Miss Patsey; but, unfortunately, Charlie seemed to

have no taste for making money, and a fondness for pictures and

pencils, that amounted almost to a passion. Here was an

unexpected obstacle; Charlie was the pet and spoiled child of the

family. All the rest of the young people had been quite satisfied

with the different means of support that had offered for each;

and they had followed their respective careers with so much quiet

good sense, that Charlie's remonstrances against the

counting-house, and his strong fancy for an artist's life, was

something quite new, and which Miss Patsey scarcely knew how to

answer. There was nothing in the least poetical or romantic about

Patsey Hubbard, who was all honest kindness and straight-forward

common sense. She had no feeling whatever for the fine arts;

never read a work of imagination; scarcely knew one tune from

another; and had never looked with pleasure at any picture, but

one, a portrait of her own respected father, which still occupied

the place of honour in their little parlour, nearly covering one

side of the wall. This painting, to speak frankly, was anything

but a valuable work of art, or a good likeness of the worthy

minister. The face was flat and unmeaning, entirely devoid of

expression or relief; the body was stiff and hard, like

sheet-iron, having, also, much the color of that material, so far

as it was covered by the black ministerial coat. One arm was

stretched across a table, conspicuous from a carrot-coloured

cloth, and the hand was extended over a pile of folios; but it

looked quite unequal to the task of opening them. The other arm

was disposed of in some manner satisfactory to the artist, no

doubt, but by no means easy for the spectator to discover, since

the brick-coloured drapery which formed the back-ground to the

whole, certainly encroached on the side where nature had placed

it. Such as it was, however, Miss Patsey admired this painting

more than any she had ever seen, and its gilt frame was always

carefully covered with green gauze, no longer necessary to

preserve the gilding, but rather to conceal its blackened lustre;

but Charlie's sister belonged to that class of amateurs who

consider the frame as an integral part of the work of art. It

was, perhaps, the most promising fact regarding any future hopes

of young Hubbard's, as an artist, that this same portrait was far

from satisfying his taste, uncultivated as it was. Charlie was,

for a long time, so much ashamed of his passion for drawing, that

he carefully concealed the little bits of paper on which he made

his sketches, as well as the few old, coarse engravings he had

picked up to copy. But, one day, Miss Patsey accidentally

discovered these treasures between the leaves of a number of the

Longbridge Freeman, carefully stowed away in an old chest of

drawers in the little garret-room where Charlie slept. She found

there a head of Washington; one of Dr. Blair; a view of Boston;

and an old French print called L'Ete, representing a shepherdess

making hay in high-heeled shoes and a hoop; there were copies of

these on bits of paper of all sizes, done with the pen or

lead-pencil; and lastly, a number of odd-looking sketches of

Charlie's own invention. The sight of these labours of art, was

far from giving Miss Patsey pleasure, although it accounted for

the surprising disappearance of her writing-paper, and the

extraordinary clipping, she had remarked, of late, on all notes

and letters that were left lying about, from which every scrap of

white paper was sure to be cut off. She spoke to Charlie on the

subject, and, of course, he had to confess. But he did not

reform; on the contrary, matters soon grew worse, for he began to

neglect his studies. It happened that he passed the whole summer

at home, as the school where his brother had been assistant, and

he himself a pupil, was broken up. At last, Miss Patsey talked to

him so seriously, about wasting time on trifles, that Charlie,

who was a sensible, warm-hearted boy, and well aware of the

exertions his sister had made for him, promised amendment, and

actually burnt all his own sketches, though the precious

engravings were still preserved. This improvement only lasted a

while, however, when he again took to drawing. This time he

resolutely respected Miss Patsey's paper, but that only made

matters worse, for he became more ambitious; he began to sketch

from nature; and, having a special fancy for landscape, he used

to carry his slate and arithmetic into the fields; and, instead

of becoming more expert in compound interest, he would sit for

hours composing pictures, and attempting every possible variety

in the views of the same little mill-pond, within a short

distance of the house. He soon became quite expert in the

management of his slate and pencil, and showed a good deal of

ingenuity in rubbing in and out the white shading on the black

ground, something in the manner of a stump-drawing; but, of

course, these sketches all disappeared before Charlie went to

take his regular lesson in book-keeping, from the neighbour who

had promised to keep him in practice until the winter, when he

was to enter the counting-house.

{"Dr. Blair" = possibly Robert Blair (Scottish poet, 1699-1747),

author of "The Grave"; or James Blair (1656-1743), founder of the

College of William and Mary in Williamsburg, Virginia. "L'Ete" =

summertime (French); "stump drawing" = probably from "stump", a

pencil-like drawing implement of rolled paper or of rubber, used

to smooth or rub in dark lines}

At last, however, Charlie determined to have an explanation with

his mother and sister; he made a clean breast as to the misdoings

on the slate, and boldly coming to the point, suggested the

possibility of his being able to support himself, one day, as an

artist, instead of a commission merchant. Poor Miss Patsey, this

was a sad blow to her! It had been her cherished ambition to see

Charlie an upright, prosperous merchant; and now that his

prospects were brightening, and a situation was provided for him,

that he should be only a painter! She had a very low opinion of

artists, as a class, and she would almost as soon have expected

Charlie to become a play-actor, or a circus-rider. When the boy

found that both Uncle Josie and Uncle Dozie thought his idea a

very foolish one, that Miss Patsey was very much distressed, and

Mrs. Hubbard could not be made to comprehend the difference

between an artist and a house-painter, he again abandoned his own

cherished plans, and resumed his commercial studies.

Unfortunately, one day, Elinor was choosing a book as a present

for her old play-fellow, at a bookstore in Philadelphia, when she

laid her hand on the Lives of the Painters. These volumes finally

upset Charlie's philosophy; he immediately set to work to

convince Miss Patsey and Uncle Josie, by extracts from the

different lives, that it was very possible to be a good and

respectable man, and not only support himself, but make a

fortune, as an artist. Of course, he took care to skip over all

unpleasant points, and bad examples; but when he came to anything

creditable, he made a note of it--and, one day, pursued Miss

Patsey into the cellar, to read to her the fact that Reubens had

been an ambassador.

{"Reubens" = Peter Paul Rubens (1577-1640), famous Flemish

painter, who served as a diplomat in Spain from 1626-30}

Miss Patsey confided her anxieties to Mr. Wyllys, who was already

aware of Charlie's propensities, and, indeed, thought them

promising. He advised Mrs. Hubbard and Patsey, not to oppose the

boy's wishes so strongly, but to give him an opportunity of

trying what he really could do; and as the expense was a very

important consideration with the Hubbards, he made Charlie a

present of a palette and colours, and kindly took him, one day,

to Philadelphia, to see Mr. S-----, who gave him some advice as

to the way in which he should go to work. This assistance Charlie

received, upon condition that he should also, at the same time,

continue his other studies; and in case any two artists that his

friend might consult, should declare, on seeing his work, that he

did not show talent enough to promise reasonable success, he was,

from that time, to devote himself to business. For a while,

Charlie was a great deal happier than a king. He immediately

began a view of his beloved little mill-pond, and then attempted

one of a small sheet of water in the neighbourhood, called

Chewattan Lake. These, after having been touched and re-touched,

he carried, with a portfolio of drawings, to New York, and with a

fluttering heart and trembling hands laid them before two

distinguished artists, Mr. C----- and Mr. I-----, to whom Mr.

Wyllys had given him letters. The decision of these gentlemen was

not discouraging, upon the whole; but they found that he had set

out wrong in the arrangement of his colours, and having corrected

the mistake, they proposed his painting another piece in oils, to

determine whether the faults in the first were the result of

ignorance, or of a false eye for colour; for on this point his

judges disagreed. It must be confessed that Charlie's clouds

might give some idea of such vapours as they may exist in the

moon; but certainly the tints the youth had given them were very

remarkable for an earthly atmosphere.

It was upon this last picture--another view of Chewattan

Lake--that Charles was engaged, heart and soul, when the Wyllyses

returned home. One afternoon, Mr. Wyllys proposed to Miss Agnes

and Elinor, to walk over and call upon Miss Patsey, and see what

their young friend had done.

"Here we are, Charlie, my lad; you promised us a look at your

work this week, you know;" said Mr. Wyllys, as he walked into the

neat little door-yard before the Hubbards' house, accompanied by

the ladies.

Charlie was at work in the vegetable garden adjoining the

door-yard, weeding the radishes.

"Everything looks in very good order here, Charles," observed

Miss Wyllys. "You have not given up the garden, I see, although

you have so much to do now."

"Your beds and your flowers look as neat as possible," said

Elinor; "just as usual. You don't seem to have gone far enough in

your career to have learned that, un beau desordre is the effect

of art," she added, smiling.

{"un beau desordre" = a pleasing lack of order (French)}

"No, indeed; it is to be hoped I never shall, for that would

throw my mother and sister into despair, at once!"

Miss Patsey, who had heard the voices of the party, now came from

the little kitchen, where she had been baking, to receive her

friends.

"Elinor has just remarked that things do not look as if you had

an artist in the house; everything is neat as wax," said Mr.

Wyllys, stepping into the little parlour.

Miss Patsey was beginning to resign herself to hearing Charlie

called an artist, although the word had still an unpleasant sound

to her ear.

"Charles is very good," she replied, "about keeping his things in

their place; he does not make much litter."

After some inquiries about Mrs. Hubbard--who, it seems, was

taking her afternoon nap--Mr. Wyllys asked to see Charlie's work.

"You must let us look at it, Charles," said Miss Agnes; "we have

been waiting, you know, quite impatiently for the last week."

"If we must go up to your STUDIO for it, we'll rest awhile

first," said Mr. Wyllys taking a seat.

"You mortify me, sir," said Charlie, "by using such great words

about my little doings, even in pleasantry. I am half afraid to

show my work; but I will bring it down."

"I hope we shall find some improvement--that is all we can expect

at present, my boy. We don't look for a Claude yet."

{"Claude" = Claude Lorrain (1600-1662), French painter famous for

his landscapes, who was an important influence on the American

Hudson River School}

Charlie blushed, in the excess of his modesty.

"Pray, bring all your sketches, too," said Elinor. "Mary wrote me

you were drawing all winter; you must have a great deal that we

have not seen."

"They are certainly not worth looking at; but such as they are,

you shall see them."

"And don't forget the Arithmetic, too," said Mr. Wyllys, smiling;

"we had better look a little into Compound Interest, of course."

Charlie looked as if that were rather a sore subject, as he left

the room.

While he was gone, a carriage stopped at the little gate. It

proved to be the Taylors; and Mr. Taylor, with his wife, and a

couple of children, walked in. After a general salutation had

been exchanged, and two additional chairs had been brought from a

bed-room, to accommodate such an unusual number of visiters, Mr.

Taylor turned to Miss Patsey, and observed, in a jocular way:

"It is not etiquette, I believe, to call twice in the same day;

but I hope you will excuse us; for on this occasion, Mrs. Taylor

has come to transact a little business."

"As you seem to be engaged, Miss Hubbard, we will put it off

until another time," said Mrs. Taylor.

"

"Just as you please," replied Miss Patsey. "I am always glad to

see my friends."

Mr. Taylor, however, liked quick measures, and never postponed

business if he could help it.

"We came to see you, this afternoon, about our two youngest

children; if you can conveniently take them into your school, it

would suit us very well."

Charlie, at that moment, returned with his picture in one hand,

and a portfolio in the other. He was rather sorry to find the

Taylors there, for he was far from admiring the gentleman. Mr.

Wyllys was really anxious to see the piece, and asked to look at

it at once. The canvass was placed near a window, in the proper

light, and the covering removed. The Wyllyses were immediately

struck with Charlie's rapid improvement; there was indeed, no

comparison between the young man's first attempts at the art, and

this last piece. His friends all congratulated him on his

success, and Charlie was delighted.

"This settles the question, I think, Miss Patsey," said Mr.

Wyllys.

"I suppose so," said Miss Patsey, with a shake of the head, and a

smile. "I think I can see myself that this picture looks more

natural than the first."

"Quite a tasty painting," said Mr. Taylor, stepping up with a

decided air towards the canvass. "I should conclude, however,

that you would find portRATES a more advantageous business."

"I like landscapes best, sir," replied the youth; and turning to

Mr. Wyllys, he added: "Mr. S----- advised me to please myself as

to the subjects I worked upon."

"Certainly," answered Mr. Wyllys; "and you seem to prefer my

mill-pond, Charlie, to the human face divine."

"But, here are sketches of faces," said Elinor, looking over the

portfolio; "very good, too;--this is excellent--grandpapa, do you

know yourself? and Miss Patsey--very good--Aunt Agnes, too! Why,

Charles, you must have drawn all these from memory."

The sketches Elinor was looking at, were roughly done in ink or

lead-pencil; but were generally good likenesses. Mr. Wyllys took

up one, that had not yet been observed by the rest of the party;

he smiled, and passed it to his granddaughter. Elinor coloured,

and her heart beat as she looked at it, for it was a sketch of

Harry. Mr. Taylor was standing behind her, and recognised it

immediately.

"That is Mr. Hazlehurst, if I am not mistaken; and a very good

likeness, Miss Wyllys."

"I suppose, your son and Harry have met, in Paris, Mr. Taylor,"

said Miss Agnes, by way of turning his attention from Elinor.

"Yes, madam, Thomas mentions having had some intercourse with Mr.

Hazlehurst, and observes, that he sees him, almost every day, in

the TULLYREES; which, Thomas says, is the RENDY-VUSS of the

fashionable world, in Paris."

"Will your son return home soon?"

"Why, no; I think not. He went for six months; but he calculates,

now, to stay some time longer. I am told, Mr. Hazlehurst will not

return until next year;--they might make the European TOWER

together. But Thomas seems to like the CAFFIES and the

BULLY-VARDS of Paris, too much to move from that city."

Elinor was going to take another sketch from the table, when

Charlie quickly passed his hand between Mr. Taylor and herself,

and drew the paper away.

"I beg your pardon--but it is a wretched thing; I did not know it

was there," said the youth, hastily.

"Pray, let me look at it," said Elinor, "for, I thought, I

recognised a friend."

"You must not see it, indeed, Miss Elinor; I dare say, you took

it for anybody but the right person;" said Charlie, a good deal

embarrassed, and hurriedly handing Elinor something else to look

at.

She was surprised at his nervous manner, but said nothing more.

"I honestly think, Charlie," said Mr.