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Elinor Wyllys by Susan Fenimore Cooper

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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

"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.

"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

"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

She was surprised at his nervous manner, but said nothing more.

"I honestly think, Charlie," said Mr. Wyllys, who had been
examining the landscape, that Mr. C-----, and Mr. I-----, will
tell you to persevere, after this. There is something about the
water, in your picture, that strikes me as unusually good."

"I am very glad to hear you say so; for there is nothing I like
to paint so much as water. I took great pains with that part of
my piece; but it does not satisfy me yet."

"Do you intend to make use of water-colours altogether, in your
paintings?" asked Mr. Taylor.

Charlie looked puzzled, and the merchant repeated his question.

"I should think, you would find water-colours cheaper; but oils
must be more durable. Which are most generally in use among

Charlie, understanding the point, at last, explained that
water-colours, and oils, were two entirely distinct branches of
the art.

"Which is your picture, there, done in?"

"I am learning to paint in oils, sir."

"And that porTRATE, overhead, which is your father, I presume; is
that in oils, too?"

"Yes, sir.--There are very few pictures, of that size, in
water-colours, I believe. Here is a miniature, in water-colours,
which Mrs. Van Horne lent me; I am taking a large picture, in
oils, from it."

Mr. Taylor examined the miniature. "It has puzzled me
considerably," he observed, "to know how painters could change
the size of an object, and be correct, without measuring it off
in feet and inches; but, I suppose, that is what you term

One is sometimes surprised by the excessive ignorance, on all
matters concerning the fine arts, betrayed in this country, by
men of some education; very clever, in their way, and quite equal
to making a speech or a fortune, any day. In Europe, just
notions, on such matters, are much more widely spread. But, after
all, such a state of things is perfectly natural; we have
hitherto had no means of cultivating the general taste, in
America, having few galleries or even single works of art, open
to the public. With the means, it is probable, that as we grow
older, we shall improve, in this respect. That there is talent,
ay, genius, in the country, sufficient to produce noble works of
art, has been already proved. Nor can it be doubted, that there
is latent feeling, and taste enough, among the people, to
appreciate them, if it were called forth by cultivation. It is
only a brutal and sluggish nation, who cannot be made to feel, as
well as think. The cultivation necessary, however, is not that
which consists in forcing the whole body of the people to become
conceited smatterers; but that which provides a full supply of
models for mediocrity to copy, and for talent to rival. It is
evident, that common sense requires us to pursue one of two
courses; either to give true talent, in every field--in
literature, in music, painting, sculpture, architecture--some
share of the honourable encouragement which is its due, or else
honestly to resign all claim to national merit, in these branches
of civilization; leaving the honour to the individual. As neither
the government, nor men singly, can do much toward encouraging
the arts, this would seem to be the very field in which societies
might hope to produce great results. Would it not be a good
innovation, if those who often unite to present some public
testimonial of respect to an individual, should select, instead
of the piece of plate, usual on such occasions, a picture or work
of sculpture? Either, it is to be supposed, if respectable in its
way, would be a more agreeable offering, to a person of
education, than gold or silver in the shape most modern workmen
give them. Under such circumstances, who would not prefer a
picture by Cole or Wier {sic}, a statue like Greenough's Medora,
Power's Eve, or Crawford's Orpheus, to all the silver salvers in
New York? Who would not prefer even a copy from some fine bust or
head of antiquity, from some celebrated cabinet picture, to the
best medal that has yet been struck in this country?

{"Cole" = Thomas Cole (1801-1848), American painter and founder
of the so-called Hudson River School of landscape painting;
"Wier" = Robert Weir (1803-1889), another American landscape
painter; "Greenough" = Horatio Greenough (1805-1852), American
sculptor, and a close friend of Susan Fenimore Cooper's father;
"Power" = Hiram Powers (1805-1873), another famous American
sculptor; "Crawford" = Thomas Crawford (1813-1857), another
American sculptor, whose statue of Orpheus was purchased by the
Boston Athenaeum; "cabinet picture" = picture exhibited in a
gallery or museum}

Thoughts like these were passing through Mr. Wyllys's mind, as he
sat looking at Charlie's picture. Mrs. Taylor had, in the mean
time, been making arrangements for her younger children to enter
Miss Patsey's school for the summer. Mr. Taylor having joined the
ladies, something was heard about 'terms,' and the affair
appeared settled. Miss Agnes having mentioned to Mrs. Taylor that
she had intended calling on her, but would now postpone it until
another day, she was so strongly urged to accompany them home,
that she consented to do so, aware that the visit should have
been paid some time before. Accordingly, they all left the
Hubbards together.

It was not often that Miss Patsey's little parlour was so full,
and so much littered, as it had been that afternoon; it generally
looked crowded, if it contained two or three persons besides the
minister's portrait, and was thought out of order, if the large
rocking-chair, or the clumsy, old-fashioned tea-table did not
stand in the very positions they had occupied for the last twelve

Very different was the aspect of things at Mr. Taylor's. Not that
the rooms were imposing, in size, but the elegance of the
furniture was so very striking. Of course, there were two
drawing-rooms, with folding-doors and Brussels carpets; while
everything corresponded to a fashionable model. Mrs. Taylor, good
soul, cared very little for these vanities of life. The
window-blinds, in her two drawing-rooms, were never opened,
except for some occasional morning visiter or evening tea-party;
she herself used what she called the 'living room,' where she
could have her younger children about her, and darn as many
stockings as she chose. The drawing-rooms were opened, however,
for the Wyllyses, who were urged to stay to tea. Miss Agnes
declined the invitation, though Mr. Wyllys and herself remained
long enough to look at the plan of a new house, which Mr. Taylor
was to build shortly; it was to be something quite grand, far
surpassing anything of the kind in the neighbourhood, for Mr.
Taylor had made a mint of money during the past winter.


"What say'st thou? Wilt thou go along?"
Henry VI.

{William Shakespeare, "3 Henry VI", IV.v.25}

JANE GRAHAM joined Elinor at Wyllys-Roof, after having made her
parting curtsey to Mrs. G-----. Her parents lived at Charleston;
but as her constitution was delicate, and required a more bracing
air than that of Carolina, Jane had been more than once, for a
twelvemonth at a time, entirely under Miss Wyllys's charge, and
was seldom absent from Longbridge for more than a few months
together. It was now settled that she was to remain with Elinor
until the autumn, when her parents, who were coming north for a
couple of months, were to carry her back to Charleston. Miss
Adeline Taylor, of course, found it impossible to remain longer
at school, when Jane, her bosom-friend, had left it. She, too,
returned to her family in the country, prepared to enliven the
neighbourhood to the best of her ability. The intimacy between
these two young ladies was only riveted more closely by the
necessity of living under different roofs; Adeline, indeed,
protested that she found the separation so distressing, that she
thought it would be an excellent plan, to divide the winter
together, between Charleston and New York; Jane to pass the first
three months with her, and she, in her turn, to accompany her
friend to Charleston, later in the season. But Jane thought her
mother would now wish to have her return home as soon as
possible, as it was already nearly a year since she had seen her
family. This affair, however, was not quite decided; Adeline
declaring that she could not bear to give up the idea, hinting
that there were all-important reasons for their remaining
together during the next winter.

Elinor often wondered that her cousin should find so much
pleasure in this intimacy with Miss Taylor, whom she was far from
liking herself; and she could not help thinking that Adeline was
more persevering in pursuit of Jane, than was agreeable. The
dislikes of young girls of seventeen are seldom violent, however,
whatever their likings may be. She made the best of it, and the
three girls were often together.

One evening, when they had been drinking tea at Mrs. Taylor's,
Elinor was much struck with a change in Jane's manner, which she
had already observed several times of late, when they had been in
society together. As they were coming home, and alone together in
the carriage, she spoke to her cousin on the subject.

"How gay you were to-night, Jane! I never saw you in better

"Was I? Well, I'm very tired now; it is almost too much for me,
Elinor, to be so lively."

"Was it an effort? Did you not feel well?" inquired Elinor.

"I felt very well, indeed, before we went; but it tires me so to
be animated."

"If it fatigues you to go out, my dear Jane, we had better stay
at home next time we are asked; but I thought you wished to go
this evening."

"So I did. It does not tire me at all to go out; there is nothing
I like so much as going to parties. If one could only do as they
pleased--just sit still, and look on; not laughing and talking
all the time, it would be delightful."

"That is what I have often done at parties," said Elinor,
smiling; "and not from choice either, but from necessity."

"Do you really think that a person who is engaged ought not to

"No, indeed;" said Elinor, colouring a little, as she laughed at
the inquiry. "I meant to say, that I had often sat still, without
talking, at parties, because no one took the trouble to come and
speak to me. Not here, at home, where everybody knows me, but at
large parties in town, last winter."

"Oh, but you never cared about being a belle. Adeline says
everybody knows you are engaged, and it is no matter what you do
or say. But Adeline says, to be a belle, you must laugh and talk
all the time, whether you feel like it or not; and she thinks you
need not be particular what you talk about, only you must be all
the time lively. The young men won't dance with you, or hand you
in to supper, unless you entertain them. Adeline says she is too
high-spirited to sit by, moping; and so am I, too, I'm sure!"

"But Jane, you are so very pretty, there is no danger of your
being overlooked."

"No, indeed, you are mistaken," said Jane, with perfect naivete.
"I was at two or three small parties, you know, in New York,
while I was staying with Mrs. Stanley, this spring; well, I
missed more than half the quadrilles, while those fat Miss
Grants, and the Howard girls, were dancing all the evening.
Adeline says it is all because I was not lively. They don't think
anything of you unless you are all the time talking, and
laughing, and moving about; and it does tire me so--I'm almost
sick of it already. I'm sure I shall never be able to be lively
at Charleston, in warm weather. I shan't be a belle, Elinor, I'm
afraid!" said the young beauty, with something like a sigh.

"Poor Jane!" said Elinor, laughing, though she really felt
provoked with Adeline for giving her cousin such notions; Jane
looked half worn-out with the evening's exertions. "And I
believed, all the time, that you were in such good spirits!
Charlie and I were looking at you with surprise; we thought Mr.
Van Horne, and John Bernard must be telling you something very
amusing, you were laughing and talking so much."

"No, indeed; it was I, who was trying to amuse the gentlemen."

But Jane was not destined to try the effect of the Charleston
climate upon the energies of a belle. Her parents arrived in New
York, where she met them. She found letters there from her
sister, Mrs. Robert Hazlehurst, to her mother and herself,
strongly urging the propriety of Jane joining their party, for
the last year of their European visit. Mrs. Hazlehurst thought
travelling would be of great service to her sister, in every
respect; it would, probably, restore her health entirety; in
Paris she would take lessons from the best masters, if she wished
it--besides enjoying the advantages of seeing the Old World; at
the same time that, in her sister's family, she would be as well
taken care of, as if at her father's house, or at Wyllys-Roof. It
was an opportunity which might not occur again, and Mrs.
Hazlehurst wrote so urgently, that her parents consented to the
arrangement, provided Jane, herself, liked the idea. An old
friend of the family, Mrs. Howard, was to sail next month for
France, and would willingly take charge of Mrs. Graham's daughter
during the voyage: everything was settled, it only remained for
Jane, herself, to decide. She was far less anxious, however, to
see the wonders of Europe, than many other young persons would
have been. Elinor congratulated her warmly upon her good fortune,
and dwelt upon the pleasure she would, no doubt, enjoy; still,
Jane appeared rather indifferent to the plan, and it would
probably have been abandoned, had it not been for two
circumstances. Her father thought the voyage and change of air
might have a happy effect on her health, and improve it
permanently; and, at the same time, Miss Adeline Taylor threw the
whole weight of her influence into the scales; she had a long
private interview with Jane, which seemed to decide the matter.
The arrangements were made, and the first of September, Jane,
accompanied by her parents, Miss Agnes, and Elinor, went on board
the Havre packet, and was placed under the care of Mr. and Mrs.
Howard. Though the separation took place under such happy
auspices, there were some tears shed, of course. Elinor felt
quite sad at parting from her young friend, to whom she was
warmly attached; but time and tide soon separated the cousins,
and the last farewell, and waving of handkerchiefs, were

{"Havre packet" = scheduled passenger ship to Le Havre, the
principal Atlantic port of arrival in France}

Elinor had placed in Jane's hands a small package, and a letter,
for Harry. The last we do not think ourselves privileged to open;
but the little box we know to have contained a purse of her own
knitting, and a lock of hair, which was sent at the special
request of Harry, as he intended to have it placed in a ring by a
Paris jeweller. Jane's baggage contained, moreover, in addition
to her own paraphernalia, several articles that one would not
expect to find among a young lady's trunks and hat-boxes. She,
carried with her a barrel of buckwheat, a keg of cranberries, and
a couple of jars of ginger-dainties for which, it appeared, some
American friends of the Hazlehursts had sighed, even amid all the
delicacies of Paris.

In a few weeks, the family at Wyllys-Roof had the pleasure of
hearing of Jane's safe arrival in Paris. The good news came
through Harry, and we shall give his letter, since it was the
last Elinor received from him in some months.

"Place Vendome, October, 18--.


"You will be glad to hear that Jane passed the barriers, this
morning, with the Howards. She has just finished a letter to Mrs.
Graham; and, as she dislikes writing so much, has given me leave
to announce her arrival to all at Wyllys-Roof. As Jane enters
Paris on one side, I leave it in the opposite direction, for, the
day after to-morrow, I am off for Constantinople; a movement
which will, no doubt, astonish you, though, I am sure, you will
wish me joy of such pleasant prospects. This letter will probably
be the last you will hear of me, for some time; not but what I
shall write as usual, but these long overland mails, through
countries where they suspect revolution or plague, in every
letter, often fail to do their duty. In fact, I delayed my
journey a week or two, expressly to see Jane, and have a good
supply of Longbridge news before setting out. Everybody tells me,
I must expect to lose more than half my letters, both ways. This
is bad enough, to be sure; but a journey to Greece and
Constantinople, would be too full of delights, without some
serious drawback. I believe Jane is more tired by answering our
questions, and hearing what we have to tell her, than by her
voyage. I cannot help wishing, my dear Elinor, that it were you
who had arrived in Paris, instead of our pretty little cousin.
How I should delight in showing you my favourite view, the quais
and the island, from the Pont Royal--the Louvre, too, and the
Madeleine. As for Jane, she will, doubtless, find her chief
pleasures at Delilles', and the Tuileries--buying finery, and
showing it off: it has often puzzled me to find out which some
ladies most enjoy.

{"barriers" = gateways leading into Paris, where travellers'
papers were examined}

"We are to be a party of four of us, on our eastern expedition.
In the first place, Ellsworth, whom you may have seen; a very
clever fellow, and brother-in-law to poor Creighton. By-the-bye,
Mrs. Creighton is still here, and has been living, very quietly,
with her brother, since her husband's death; she is now going to
the Howards, who are her connexions, I believe; so says Louisa,
at least. Ellsworth, you know, poor fellow, lost his wife about a
year ago; he has left his little girl with her mother's friends,
and has come abroad for a year or two. Having been in Europe
before, he was very glad to make one, in our party to the East,
where he has not yet been. I mention him first, for he is the
most agreeable of our set. There is not much to be said on the
chapter of young Brown; and, I must confess, that I don't quite
agree with Col. Stryker, in the very good opinion he evidently
entertains of himself. By-the-bye, American Colonels are as
plenty, now-a-days, as the 'Marquis' used to be, at Versailles,
in the time of the Grand Louis. Some simple European folk,
actually believe that each of these gentry has his
regiment-----in the garrison of 'Nieu Yorck,' I suppose; it would
puzzle them, to find the army, if they were to cross the
Atlantic; I don't remember to have seen one of Uncle Sam's
soldiers for five years before I left home.

{"Grand Louis" = French King Louis XIV (1638-1715), known as
"Louis the Great"}

"Many thanks, dearest Elinor, for the contents of your box; you
cannot doubt but they will accompany your preux chevalier on his
pilgrimage. This Eastern movement has been such a sudden one,
that I have still a thousand things to do, which will oblige me
to make my letter shorter than I wish. Ellsworth is waiting for
me, at this moment. We expect to be gone six, or, possibly, eight
months. I shall write again from Marseilles; and, I hope, the
letter from thence will reach you. Pull Bruno's ears for me, and
don't let him forget his master; which will be one way, my dear,
kind, Elinor, of obliging you to remember that individual also.
Best respects to Mr. Wyllys and Aunt Agnes, with much love for
yourself, dearest Elinor, from

Your affectionate, present and FUTUR,

H. H.

P. S.--Many remembrances for Mrs. Stanley, if she is with you; I
wrote to her last month."

{"preux chevalier" = valiant knight; "FUTUR" = future (French)}


"What tidings send our scouts? I pr'ythee, speak."
Henry VI.

{William Shakespeare, "1 Henry VI", V.ii.10}

ABOUT the middle of the following March, the season, by courtesy
called spring, but when winter sometimes reigns de facto, in the
neighbourhood to which Wyllys-Roof belonged, Mr. Wyllys proposed,
one morning, to drive his granddaughter to Longbridge, with the
double object, of making the most of a late fall of snow, and
procuring the mail an hour earlier than usual.

The light cutter slipped through a track in which there was quite
as much mud as snow, and, it seemed, as if most people preferred
staying at home, to moving over roads in that half-and-half
condition: they met no one they knew, excepting Dr. Van Horne.

"I was sure you would be out this morning, Mr. Wyllys," cried the
Doctor, as they met, "your sleigh is always the first and the
last on the road."

"You generally keep me company, I find, doctor. I am going for
the mail. How far have you been, this morning?"

"To Longbridge, sir; but, with this sun, the snow will hardly
carry you there and home again; and yet, I dare say, you will
find something worth having, in the mail, for I saw letters in
your box; and there is a French packet in."

"Indeed! We'll make the best of our way, then, at once;" and,
wishing the doctor good morning, Mr. Wyllys drove off. "We shall
have letters from Paris, I hope, Nelly," said her grandfather.

"Certainly, I hope so," replied Elinor; "Jane's last letter was
shamefully short. I had half a mind not to answer it; and so I
told her; but my scolding has not had time to reach her yet."

"Jenny is no great letter-writer; and she is very busy enjoying
her year in Paris, I suppose. But I shall be glad to have a sight
of Harry's handwriting again. Where was it he wrote from last, in

"From Beyroot {sic}, sir. He was to be in Paris early in the

"Well, I hope we shall hear something from him to-day. Before
long, I suppose, we shall have the young gentleman at
Wyllys-Roof, trying to persuade you that he wants your help in
reading Blackstone. But, don't believe him, Nelly; I shan't give
you up for a year to come."

{"Blackstone" = Sir William Blackstone (1723-1780), British
jurist whose "Commentaries on the Laws of England" was the
principal text for aspiring young lawyers}

"There is time enough to think of all that," said Elinor,
blushing a little.

"Yes, time enough! and we can judge what sort of a lawyer he will
make, by the way in which he handles the subject. As it is a bad
cause, he ought to find a great deal to say on the occasion.
Suppose he manages the matter so well, as to bring your aunt and
myself over to his side, what would you say?"

"I can only say now, grandpapa, that I cannot bear to think of
the time when I shall have to leave Aunt Agnes and yourself,"
replied Elinor, with feeling. "Pray, don't let us talk about it
yet; I shall be very well satisfied with things as they are, for
a long time to come."

"Well, you may be satisfied to have Harry in Egypt; but I should
like to see him here, once in a while. When is it they are to be

"The last of the summer, sir. They sail in August, that Louisa
may see Mrs. Graham before she goes south."

"You have had a different sort of a winter, my child, from Harry
and Jane."

"It has been a pleasant winter to me, and to all three, I hope."

"Yes; Jenny has had all the gaiety--Harry all the adventure--and
you, all the sobriety. But it was your own wish, my dear, that
has kept us in the country, this winter."

The last six months had, indeed, passed very differently to the
young people. Jane had been dancing away her evenings on the
parquets of Paris; and dividing her mornings between walks to the
Tuileries, drives to the Bois de Boulogne, and visits to the
shops. As for the lessons which had, at one time, entered into
the plan, they had never been even commenced. Jane was too
indolent to take pleasure in anything of the kind; and her
companions, the daughters of Mrs. Howard, led her into so much
gaiety, that she really seemed to have little time for anything
else. Mrs. Robert Hazlehurst thought, indeed, that her sister was
quite too dissipated; still, Jane seemed to enjoy it so much, she
looked so well and happy, and Mrs. Howard was such an obliging
chaperon, that the same course was pursued, week after week;
although Mrs. Hazlehurst, herself, who had an infant a few weeks
old, seldom accompanied her.

Elinor, in the mean time, was passing the quietest of country
lives at Wyllys-Roof, where the family remained all winter. Even
the letters, which the previous year had given her so much
pleasure, had been wanting during the past season. Jane never
wrote oftener than was absolutely necessary; and only two of
Hurry's letters reached their destination. There was a package
from Europe, however, in the Longbridge Post-Office, on the
morning of the sleigh-drive we have alluded to. It contained a
long letter from Harry, written at Smyrna, announcing that he
hoped to be in Paris some time in March; and one from Mrs.
Hazlehurst, informing her friends of their plans for the
summer--including an excursion to Switzerland--after which they
were to return home late in August.

The very day Elinor received these letters, Harry returned to
Paris. After pitching his tent among Grecian ruins, and riding on
camels over the sands of Egypt and Syria, he had returned to
France through Turkey and Austria; thinking himself a very lucky
fellow to have seen so much of what the world contains, worth

He found his brother entirely recovered, as well as he had been
before the accident which had injured him. He was called upon to
admire the little niece born during his absence; she was a sweet
little baby, and Mrs. Hazlehurst had named her Elinor, after her
future sister-in-law--a kind attention for which Harry was much
obliged to her, and which, he declared, would make the child a
favourite with him.

Jane was there, of course, and glad to see Harry, of course.
Hazlehurst had scarcely taken possession of a comfortable
fauteuil in his brother's drawing-room, before the thought
occurred to him, that all the party looked much as usual,
excepting Jane. During the first evening, he became convinced
that she was certainly altered by the air of Paris. How very much
she had improved in appearance and manner! He had never before
thought her so very beautiful as many others had done--but he
must now retract all he had ever said on the subject. He supposed
the good taste with which she was dressed must have some effect;
but it seemed as if her beauty were now in its perfection. When
he last saw her, there was something almost childish in her
appearance and expression, which she had now lost entirely. He
was struck with the air of finish about her whole person, from
the rich glossy lustre on her dark hair, to the pearly tint of
her complexion. She was, indeed, a beautiful creature. What a
sensation such a face must create among the enthusiastic
Parisians! Then, she must have more feeling than he had given her
credit for; she had received him quite kindly, and seemed really
glad to see him again.

{"fauteuil" = armchair (French)}

Daily observation, while living under the same roof, only
confirmed Harry in this new opinion of Jane. He began to admire
the languid grace of her movements; and he discovered that it is
very possible to have too much warmth of manner, and that some
women certainly fatigue one by their animation. He must tell the
family at Wyllys-Roof how much Jane had improved. He found he was
not mistaken in supposing that she must produce an impression
wherever she was seen. Whether they were walking in the Tuileries
of a morning, or went into society in the evening, the effect was
always the same; he saw her everywhere followed by very evident
and open admiration. And no wonder; her beauty threw a charm over
all her actions: it was even a pleasure to accompany her in
shopping excursions--which he used to look upon as the greatest
tax that a lady could impose upon his gallantry; but then, few
persons looked so beautiful as Jane, when selecting a muslin, or
trying on a hat. He soon became proud of a place at her side, and
much more vain of her beauty than she was herself.

"I must let them know at Longbridge," he thought, "what a
sensation Jane is making. She is, indeed, a beauty to be proud
of. I saw nothing like her in Greece. She does credit to the
country." Harry thought it patriotic to admire her, and to lose
no opportunity of enjoying the effect of her beauties among the
gay world of Paris. American patriotism, as we all know, often
takes singular shapes.

Jane and himself became more intimate, and on more friendly terms
than they had ever yet been. She seemed, indeed, to prefer him,
as a cavaliere servente, to any of her other admirers, American
or European. But that might easily be accounted for, on the score
of connexion. Of course, Harry was grateful for this preference,
and after a while he even began to look upon the excessive
devotion of one or two of her admirers, as impertinence on their

{"cavaliere servente" = male escort (Italian)}

About this time--some weeks after his return--Hazlehurst gave
himself very much to the study of aesthetics. The beautiful, the
harmonious, alone attracted him; he could not endure anything
approaching to coarseness. He wandered up and down the galleries
of the Louvre, delighting more in the beautiful faces of the
Italian masters, in the Nymphs and Muses of the old Greeks, than
he had ever done before. He became quite a connoisseur. He had no
taste for the merely pretty; perfect beauty he admired with his
whole soul, but anything short of it was only to be tolerated. He
felt the fact, if he did not reason on the discovery, that beauty
in the very highest degree, carries with it--we do not say the
expression--but the stamp of dignity, and even of intelligence.
Such was the impression produced by Jane's perfectly classical
head and features. It was impossible, as you gazed upon her
smooth polished forehead, and noble dark eyes, to believe her
wanting in character, or intellect. Then, Harry remembered that
talent of the highest order bears a calm aspect; not frothy,
sparkling cleverness, which takes so well with the vulgar; not
wit, exactly; but that result of a well-balanced mind, in which
all the faculties harmonize so well, that they leave no one
particularly prominent. He had been much struck, lately, with
several remarks of Jane's--they showed a depth of observation, a
fund of good sense, which he had not formerly supposed her to
possess; but then, of old, he used to be unpardonably unjust to
Jane. She was certainly improved, too; her friends at Longbridge
would be gratified by the change.

This course of aesthetics gradually carried Harry so far, that
after a profound study of the subject in general, and of Jane's
features in particular, he became a convert to the opinion of the
German philosopher, who affirms that "The Beautiful is greater
than the Good." There have been disputes, we believe, on the
subject of this axiom, some critics giving it a deep mystical
sense, others, again, attempting to explain it in different ways.
Our friend Hazlehurst, though a pretty good German scholar,
seemed disposed to adopt the idea in its simplest interpretation.

{"German philosopher" = I have been unable to identify with
certainty the quotation, though the sentiment suggests Friedrich
Wilhelm Joseph von Schelling (1775-1854)}

Things were in this train, when the family set out for


{should be Chapter VIII}

"Her dress, and novels, visits, and success."

{George Crabbe (English poet, 1754-1832), "Posthumous Tales: XV
Belinda Waters" line II.31}

LONGBRIDGE was quite a pleasant village, and surrounded by a
pretty country. Like most other American rural towns, it
received, in the warmest months, a large accession to its
population; for it seems to be a matter of course, that everybody
who is able to do so, runs away from brick walls in the months of
July and August, and selects some village in which to rusticate,
and set the fashions, enjoy the dust and the fire-flies, fresh
peaches, and home-made ice-cream.--Longbridge, in addition to the
usual advantages of pure air, and brown fields, in the month of
August, had something of a reputation as a place for bathing; and
its three taverns, and various boarding-houses, were generally
well filled with families from New York and Philadelphia, during
the very warm weather.

Among others, during the season to which we allude, the Grahams
were there, anxiously awaiting the arrival of the Hazlehurst
party from Europe; for letters had been received, informing their
friends that they might be expected at any moment. The Wyllys
carriage was now seen at Longbridge every day, either at the
house where their relatives, the Grahams, had taken lodgings for
the season, or before the door of a neat little cottage, recently
purchased by Mr. Wyllys for the widow of his youngest son, Mrs.
George Wyllys. This lady, to whom the reader has been already
introduced, had been left, with four children, almost entirely
dependent on her father-in-law. Her character was somewhat of a
medley. She was a good-hearted woman, attached to her husband's
family, and always asking advice of her friends, particularly Mr.
Wyllys, and Miss Agnes, for whom she had a sincere respect. She
was pretty, lady-like, rather clever, and a pleasant companion to
persons not particularly interested in her welfare. On
indifferent topics she could converse with as much good sense as
the rest of the world; but her own affairs she mismanaged
terribly. All her other good qualities seemed unsettled by a
certain infusion of caprice, and jealousy of influence; and yet
she really meant well, and fancied herself a very prudent woman.
She thought she was capable of making any sacrifice for those she
loved, and therefore believed herself a model in all the
relations of life. As a mother, she had a system of education,
the theory of which was excellent; but there was little
consistency in its practice. As regards money-matters, she talked
and thought so much about economy, that she took it for granted
that she practised it. After having passed the first years of her
widowhood with her own family in Baltimore, she had lately become
convinced that her income was not sufficient to allow her living
in a large town, without running in debt. Mr. Wyllys was
unfortunately too well aware that his daughter-in-law's
difficulties were not the result of Baltimore prices, but of her
own mismanagement. Franklin advises his friends to "take care of
the pence, and the pounds will take care of themselves:" but this
rule is by no means infallible. Perhaps there is no species of
extravagance more common, than that often practised by
well-disposed people, which consists of being "penny-wise,
pound-foolish;" they will save a hundred cents on as many
different occasions, and throw away twenty dollars on one object.
It happens that such persons often succeed in persuading
themselves that they are models of prudence, and self-denial.
Such was Mrs. George Wyllys's plan; and, unfortunately, she not
only brought trouble on herself, but was a constant source of
anxiety to her father-in-law, who endeavoured, in vain, to
counteract the evil; but every succeeding year brought a
repetition of the difficulties of the former.

{"Franklin" = Benjamin Franklin (1706-1790), but the expression
is usually attributed to Lord Chesterfield (1674-1773); "penny
wise, pound foolish" = phrase originated by Robert Burton

At present, Mrs. Wyllys was bent upon economy in a cottage, with
new furniture, purchased at a high price, at New York auctions;
and it was in vain to oppose her plan, so convinced was she, that
duty alone could have induced her to leave her own family and old
friends in Baltimore.

"We must make the best of it, Agnes," said Mr. Wyllys, "it will
be pleasant, at least, to have Harriet and her little people near
us--and we may be of use to the children."

Miss Agnes agreed to the first part of her father's remark, but
was far from feeling sanguine as to their being of any advantage
to the children. It was a part of Mrs. Wyllys's system, to
consult her friends far more frequently than was necessary, upon
the education of her family, at the same time that it also
entered into her plan to follow their advice very seldom indeed.

As for Elinor, she was very well pleased with her aunt's arrival
in the neighbourhood; of course, she was too young and
inexperienced to know the exact state of matters, and she was
attached to Mrs. Wyllys, and fond of her little cousins.

One afternoon, Mrs. Wyllys had persuaded Miss Agnes and Elinor to
drink tea with her, and not return home until the evening. The
ladies were sitting together, in Mrs. Wyllys's pleasant little
parlour, engaged with their needles, while the children were
playing under the windows, in the shady door-yard.

"Shall I put the bow on the right or left side, Elinor?" asked
Mrs. Wyllys, who was re-trimming a hat for one of her little

"It looks very well as you have it now, Aunt;" replied her niece.

"Perhaps it does; there is a stain, however, on the other side,
which must be covered," replied the lady, changing the bow. "This
riband was very cheap, Agnes," she added, showing it to her
sister-in-law. "Only twenty cents a yard. I bought the whole
piece, although I shall not want it until next spring."

"Quite cheap," said Miss Agnes, looking at the riband; "but I
don't know what you will do with so much of it."

"Oh, I shall find some use for it; in a large family, nothing
comes amiss."

A pretty, little girl, about eight years old, ran into the room,
and, skipping up to her mother, whispered, "Here comes a
carriage, mamma, and some ladies."

"Who is it, Elinor?" asked Mrs. Wyllys, of her niece, who was
sitting near the window.

"The Hubbards," she replied.

"What, Patsey Hubbard?"

"Oh, no; her cousins--very different persons. The Longbridge
Hubbards, whose acquaintance you have not yet made."

Two ladies, radiant with elegance, entered the room, and were
introduced, by Miss Agnes, to her sister-in-law, as Mrs. Hilson,
and Miss Emmeline Hubbard. They were both young; quite pretty;
very fashionably dressed; very silly in their expressions, and
much alike, in every respect.

After a few preliminary speeches, Mrs. Hilson remarked, that she
was very glad Mrs. Wyllys had come to join their rustic circle.

"Thank you," replied the lady; "Longbridge is a favourite place
of mine; but I have not yet seen many traces of rusticity, here."

"Why, no, Julianna," observed Miss Emmeline, "I don't think our
village is at all a rustic place. We have too many advantages of
communication with the city for that."

"It is true," said Mrs. Hilson, "Longbridge has always been a
very aristocratic place. You know, Miss Wyllys," turning to Miss
Agnes, "we have our 'West-End,' and our 'exclusives.'"

{"West End" = from the fashionable West End of London}

"I was not aware of it; but then I am really a rustic," Miss
Wyllys added, smiling.

"Yes, it is unfortunate, you should be so far from the village.
Emmeline and I often pity you, Miss Elinor, for being so far from
genteel society."

"That is scarcely worth while, I assure you, for we have several
pleasant families, within a short distance."

"But only a very small circle, however. Now we have quite a large
set of aristocratic people, in the village. Some of our
inhabitants are very refined, I assure you, Mrs. Wyllys."

The lady bowed.

"You will find your two next neighbours, Mrs. Bibbs and Mrs.
Tibbs, very fascinating ladies," observed Miss Emmeline. "Mrs.
Bibbs is one of our beauties; and Mrs. Tibbs, our most elegant

"Emmeline is going over the Court Calendar, for you, already,"
said Mrs. Hilson, laughing fashionably.

{"Court Calendar" = from the section of British newspapers
devoted to the schedule and appearances of the Royal Family}

"Are these ladies the wives of judges?" inquired Mrs. Wyllys.

"Oh, no; Mrs. Tibbs is the lady of our physician, and Mrs. Bibbs
is a 'marchande,'--she is a very fascinating lady, and has a fine
flow of conversation. She was a great belle, at Saratoga, a year
or two since; you may, perhaps, have met her there?" inquired
Mrs. Hilson.

"Not that I know of; but I have not been at Saratoga for years."

"Is it possible? I cannot live without three weeks at Saratoga,
and a fortnight at Rockaway, every year. Before I ordered my
wedding-dress, I made Mr. Hilson promise I should have my own way
about that. I said to him, one day, 'Alonzo, before the
settlements are drawn up, I shall require you to pledge yourself
to six weeks, every year, between Saratoga and Rockaway.'"

{"settlements" = marriage settlements or pre-nuptial agreements;
"Rockaway" = a fashionable sea-side resort on Long Island, near
New York City}

"You are fond of a gay life, I suppose."

"Very naturally; having lived in the world of fashion from my
cradle, I do not think I could breathe any other atmosphere. It
must be a great change for you, Mrs. Wyllys, from all the
pleasures of a city-life to a small circle like ours."

"A change, certainly; but a pleasant one, I hope."

"It will be a relief to you, to find so much aristocracy among
us. We have a certain clique, that, I think, must satisfy the
most refined taste, and will console you, I hope, for the loss of
genteel society in Baltimore."

"Thank you. I shall scarcely miss any but my friends. I go out
very little."

"I regret to hear that.--We must try to persuade you to change
your determination, and mingle more with society. I feel
confident, that our West-End clique must satisfy the most refined
taste. We expect to have a great deal of gaiety, this fall; but,
just at present, we have a scarcity of beaux."

"What has become of young Mr. Taylor; he was to have been home by
this time. Do you hear anything of him, Miss Wyllys?" inquired
Miss Emmeline.

"His family expect him soon, I believe."

"I hope he will arrive before our summer parties are over. Mr.
and Mrs. Hazlehurst, too, and Miss Graham, when shall we have the
pleasure of seeing them?"

"We expect them every day."

"I hope," said Mrs. Hilson, "they will arrive while I am here,
which will be longer than usual, this season, for they are
painting our suit {sic} of apartments in the city. When I came,
Alonzo told Emmeline to keep me until October, and she has
promised me a round of entertainments, while I am with her; so
that I feel particularly interested in the arrival of your

"Miss Graham will dash a great deal, no doubt, when she comes
back," said Miss Emmeline; "I quite long to see her. Miss Taylor
must be expecting her impatiently. By-the-bye, I understand, Mr.
Taylor's new furniture is now all arrived. His villa, as well as
his city-house, will be very stylish."

"Mr. Taylor is a very tasty gentleman," observed Mrs. Hilson. "He
seems to be very talented, in every way; formed to figure in
fashionable life, as well as in business. His new house is a
magnificent edifice."

"Your father tells me, he has quite finished his own house, Mrs.
Hilson; you must be glad to get rid of the workmen," remarked
Miss Wyllys.

"Yes--they have been long enough about it; but Pa has
old-fashioned notions about having everything substantial, and
well done; he said Emmeline and I might choose the plan, and have
everything as we liked; but he must have his own time to do it
in. However, it is a delightful mansion, now. It has every
convenience of the most fashionable houses in the city;
plate-glass, and folding-doors, and marble chimneys to the
garret. Just such a house as I should like in New York; though,
to tell the truth, I would not keep house for the world."

"Julianna is so delightfully situated, in her boarding-house,
Mrs. Wyllys, that she has nothing to wish for."

{"boarding-house" = at this period in American history, many
respectable and reasonably well-off people and even families
lived permanently in boarding-houses, rather than maintain a
houseful of servants}

"Yes, we have every luxury of fashionable life, united to a very
aristocratic set of boarders; and Mrs. Stone, herself, is an
extremely fascinating lady. Indeed, I have been spoilt; I don't
think I could endure the drudgery of housekeeping, now; though I
once told Alonzo, if he would give me a four-story house, up
town, with a marble front, I would try."

"You must find the situation of your father's new house
pleasanter than that he has left," observed Miss Agnes.

"By no means.--That is a serious objection to our new mansion.
Standing surrounded by the park, on three sides, removes us so
far from the street."

"I should have thought you would find it pleasant to be removed
farther from the noise and dust. What is your cousin Charles
doing? I suppose you see him often, in town."

"I really do not know what has become of him," said Mrs. Hilson,
languidly; for she always felt rather mortified by any allusion
to her unfashionable relations. "Though Charles is in the city
now, studying painting, yet I never see him. He told Mr. Hilson
that he called sometimes, but I have never seen his card; in a
large boarding-house like ours, with a family of forty or fifty
people, there is often great confusion about visits. But,
Emmeline, we are making a very unfashionable call. I am quite
ashamed, Mrs. Wyllys: but we will relieve you now--I see our
carriage has returned." And after an exchange of curtsies, the
ladies glided out of the room. Miss Emmeline, as she passed,
touched the curly head of one of the children, exclaiming as she
did so, "fascinating cherub!" and then both vanished.

We have said that these two sisters were very much alike. Mrs.
Hilson, however, was the most distinguished of the two, for she
carried the family follies several degrees farther than Miss
Emmeline. Taken altogether, she was an absurd compound.
Personally, she was thoroughly American, very pretty and delicate
in form and features, and thus far appeared to great advantage;
but she had, also, an affected mincing manner, and drawling
voice. Of course, her dress was as Parisian as possible;
everything she wore was a faithful copy from "Le Courier des
Dames." Her feelings and opinions; Mrs. Hilson was proud to call
English in the extreme, for she had chosen to imbibe a great love
of "aristocracy," and many other things which she did not in the
least understand. She had a set of common-place phrases of this
description in constant use, having borrowed them from an
intimate friend, living in the same boarding-house, a Mrs.
Bagman, an Englishwoman, of a very equivocal position. Then, she
read nothing but English novels; these were her only source of
amusement and instruction in the way of books; and as she
followed the example of Mrs. Bagman, in rejecting every tale that
had not its due share of lords and ladies, she called herself
fastidious in the selection. She was a great talker, and not a
day passed but what cockney sentiments fell from her pretty
little mouth, in drawling tones, from under a fanciful Parisian
coiffure. John Bull would have stared, however, if called upon to
acknowledge her as a daughter; for Yankee vulgarity and English
vulgarity are very different in character--the first having the
most pretension, the last the most coarseness.

These ladies had scarcely driven from the door, before Mrs.
Wyllys exclaimed: "Is it possible, Agnes, that these Hubbards are
a good specimen of the Longbridge people!"

"No, indeed; one such family is quite enough for any place."

"How ridiculous they are! How can you tolerate them?"

"Now, pray, Aunt Agnes," said Elinor, "do not say one word in
their favour."

"No; as regards the ladies of the family, one can say little.
They are not perhaps, by nature, as ridiculous as they have made
themselves. Time may do something for them. But their father is a
very worthy, respectable man; you must have seen him at our house
last summer. Don't you remember one day two uncles of Patsey
Hubbard dining with us?"

"Yes, I do remember them; one Charles Hubbard called Uncle Josey
{sic}, and he seemed quite a sensible man; the other fell asleep
I know, the one they called Uncle Dozie."

"The napping uncle is the old bachelor; Uncle Josie is the father
of these ladies."

"He seemed a sensible man; how came he to have such daughters?"

"They are very like their mother, who died a year or two since."

"They are very disagreeable, certainly. How often shall we be
required to encounter this desperate elegance? I almost begin to
repent having fixed myself at Longbridge."

"And between Mrs. Bibbs, and Mrs. Tibbs, too!" said Elinor,
laughing. "However, for your consolation, Aunt, I can assure you
these two ladies are far from being so very 'fascinating' as the
Hubbards. Mrs. Hilson and her sister rise high above the rest of
us in that respect--they are, decidedly, 'our Corinthian

"You will find the Van Hornes, the Bernards, and several other
families, very pleasant neighbours, on farther acquaintance,"
said Miss Agnes. "You have really been unfortunate in this

"And where did these ladies contrive to pick up so much

"With a miserable education to begin with, no other reading than
the worst novels, and the chance association of second-rate
boarding-houses, that point, I think, is easily accounted for,"
said Miss Agnes.

The conversation was interrupted by the hurried return of Mr.
Wyllys, who held a newspaper in his hand.

"They have arrived!" cried Elinor, springing from her chair, as
she saw her grandfather enter the gate.

"Good news!" said Mr. Wyllys, as he joined the ladies. "The Erie
is in, and our friends with her! They must have arrived in the
night, and to-morrow morning we shall have them here."

Of course, all the family were gratified by the good news. Elinor
was quite agitated, though her aunt had the pleasure of seeing
her look very happy.

"Here it is," said Mr. Wyllys, reading from the paper the arrival
of "'the Packet Ship Erie, Capt. Funck, from Havre, consigned to
----- ----- & Co.;' that you won't care about. But here is the
list of passengers: 'Mr. Johnson, Mrs. Johnson, and a dozen
Masters and Misses Johnson, from Natchez;'--strangers, you will
say, but here are acquaintances: 'Mrs. Creighton, Mr. Francis
Ellsworth, and servant, of Phil.; Mr. and Mrs. Robert Hazleworth,
and family, of Phil.; Miss Graham, of Phil.; Madame Gigot, of
Paris:' wait a moment, Nelly, all in good time. 'Capt. Flint, of
British Army; Achille Bureau, of Paris; T. Davis, of Charleston;
Dr. Brackett, of St. Louis;' and, though last, not least in our
estimation, W. Hazleworth, of Phil.; with seventy-nine in the
steerage.' Of course, for W. Hazleworth, read H. Hazlehurst; they
never spell a name right. We shall have them all here to-morrow I
hope, Nelly."

If Elinor said little, she thought and felt a great deal.

They were still talking over the arrival, when Mrs. Wyllys's
little girl came skipping in, again, and said; "Here comes a
gentleman, mamma." She was followed in an instant, by a young
man, who, in a hurried, eager manner, had kissed the hand of Miss
Agnes, and Elinor's cheek, before either had time to exclaim

It was, in fact, Hazlehurst, still in his travelling-cap. They
had arrived in the night, he said, and the rest of the party was
to follow him the next day.


"How taught shall I return?"

{George Crabbe (English poet, 1754-1832), "Posthumous Tales: VI
The Farewell and Return" line I.62}

OF course, Harry was established at Wyllys-Roof. And, after a few
days passed with her parents at Longbridge, Elinor persuaded Jane
to pay her a short visit.

It is a pleasant moment for people of mature years, when they can
sit idly by, as affectionate observers, while a gay party of
young people, in whom they are interested, are chatting
familiarly together, with the lively tone and light spirits of
youth, free alike from the restraints of childhood, and the cares
of middle age. Every varied shade of character, unconsciously
betrayed by the young group--the playful remark--the just
observation--the pleasing acquirement--an act of good-nature--a
graceful motion--the bright eye and the careless smile--ay, even
the proof of inexperience and want of worldly wisdom--all is
attractive to the partial friends. They feel such a moment to be
the reward of many a previous hour of care and anxiety; it is
their happy privilege to mark each improvement in person, mind
and heart--the fruit of past labours and prayers--the cheering
promise amid the doubts of the future. Happy they, who can look
upon the young people committed to their charge, with the
consciousness that no important duty towards them has been
neglected; happy the young person, who, with a clear conscience
and an open countenance, can meet the approving smile of a
parent; thrice happy the youth, who, having taken a false step at
the beginning of his career, has had the courage and wisdom to
turn, ere too late; that precious approbation of wise and true
friends, may still be fully his; he has turned from danger,
temptation and shame, into the sure and safe path that leads to
everything most to be valued, even in this world.

As for our friends at Wyllys-Roof, the joy of re-union, after a
long absence, gave additional zest to the first pleasant meetings
of the young people, in whom Miss Agnes and Mr. Wyllys were so
warmly interested. Elinor was in gay spirits--even Jane was more
animated than usual, in her expressions and manners. As for
Harry, he was decidedly improved; the last two years had done a
great deal for him. He was now a clever, well-educated, agreeable
young man of three-and-twenty, whose judgment and taste were much
improved by travelling.

"A very good-looking fellow, too, Agnes," remarked Mr. Wyllys.

It was easy to gather, from the natural, healthful tone of his
conversation, that in more important points, while he had gained
much, he had lost nothing by wider observation of the world.

As for Jane, Miss Agnes had not expected much from her, and she
was pleased with the changes she observed. Her young kinswoman's
temper seemed to have become more even than formerly, and she was
quite as much pleased to return to her family, as she ought to
have been. It appeared natural, that everybody who saw Jane
should be satisfied with looking at her. Beauty like hers
disarmed their attempts at severity, and disposed them to
indulgence. It seemed scarcely reasonable to expect any striking
quality, or great virtue, with beauty so rare. But if the
Wyllyses had thought her beautiful before she left them, they
were really astonished to find how much it had been possible for
her to gain in appearance. Her face was now perfectly lovely, in
the finest style of beauty. Miss Wyllys was pleased to find her
manners much improved; a change from the society of Adeline
Taylor, and her lively young friends, to that of older and
better-bred people, had been of great advantage. Jane's labours
of liveliness had annoyed Miss Agnes not a little; and more than
once she had ventured a remark on the subject; but her young
relative had been too well advised, by Adeline and her
school-companions, to believe that Miss Wyllys could possibly
know, as well as themselves, what were the fashionable airs and
graces of the day. Since her visit to Paris, however, Jane's
manner, without her being aware of it herself, had become much
more quiet and natural. During the last twelvemonth, she had not
found it necessary to make perpetual exertions to attract, or
retain admirers. She had learned to look upon the attentions of
society as a matter of course.

The observations of Mr. Wyllys and his daughter were not all
confined to the two young travellers; they watched the graceful
movements of Elinor, and listened with interest to the gay
remarks made in her pleasant voice. She had never been in better
spirits, and was evidently happy. Elinor was really attached to
Jane; and yet, never were two girls less alike, not only in
person, but in mind and disposition. Jane's beauty was a great
charm, in Elinor's eyes. The homeliness of her own features only
increased her admiration for those of her cousin, who had always
filled, with her, the place of a younger sister and pet, although
the difference in their ages was very trifling. If these feelings
were not returned as warmly as they deserved, Elinor had never
seemed to expect that they should be; it was not in Jane's nature
to do so. That Harry's arrival should have made her happy, was,
of course, only natural; she betrayed, at times, a touch of
embarrassment towards him, when Aunt Agnes had smiled too openly,
or Mr. Wyllys had rallied too strongly; but it was graceful, like
every shade in her manner.

Miss Agnes was well aware that the last two years had not been
lost with Elinor, although passed in quiet every-day life. She
knew, from close observation, that the character of her adopted
child had been gradually approaching nearer to all she wished it
to be. As the two young girls sat chatting together, Miss Wyllys
could not but mark the striking difference in their appearance;
but she also felt that if Jane's loveliness were a charm, even to
her, knowing Elinor thoroughly, she loved her far more deeply for
the want of beauty. But, of course, the world would have decided

The morning after Jane's arrival at Wyllys-Roof, the young people
were engaged in one of the gay conversations we have alluded to,
when Mr. Wyllys called off Hazlehurst's attention.

"Harry, what was that clumsy contrivance about the French horses,
you were describing to Van Horne, last night? I wanted to ask
you, at the time, but you began to talk with Miss Patsey. You
said something about a wooden collar, I think."

Harry changed his seat, for one nearer Mr. Wyllys, and began a
long explanation of the harness used by the French teamsters.

"I have several engravings in my trunks, that will show you my
meaning, sir, better than words can do."

"I should like to see them. But, are these wooden wings to the
collars, as you describe them, used throughout France, or only in
Normandy, and the neighbourhood of Paris?"

"We saw them wherever we went. All the carters and farmers seem
to use them. They have, besides, a great deal of clumsy, useless
ornament, and they contrive to want twice as much tackle as we

The gentlemen continued to discuss the subject of horses and
harness, Harry relating, for Mr. Wyllys's amusement, many
observations he had made, on these matters, in the different
countries where he had been.

Jane had brought down, from her room, an arm-full of pretty
things, evidently Parisian. She had just given Elinor a very
pretty bag, which Miss Agnes was called upon to admire.

"My dear Aunt," cried Elinor, "do look at this; Jane, I think we
must call it a sac--'bag' sounds too heavy. Look at the
material--the finest cachemere. And then the colour, so rich and
so delicate at the same time."

"Yes; it is a very pretty shade of ponceau," said Jane.

{"ponceau" = poppy red (French)}

"And then the shape! so Parisian! And the ornaments--"

"It is very pretty," said Miss Wyllys, after due examination.

"That is the way with everything that comes from Paris," said
Elinor; "it is always so complete; not one part good and others
clumsy--or good in quality, but ugly in form and colour. The
French seem to have an instinct about these things; they throw a
grace about everything."

"Yes; they have a perfect taste," said Jane.

"While I was up-stairs, with Louisa, yesterday," said Elinor, "we
talked over Paris all the morning, Aunt Agnes. I was amused with
a great deal she told me. Louisa says, there is a fitness in all
that a French-woman does and says, and even in everything she
wears--that her dress is always consistent--always appropriate to
the occasion."

"That is true," replied Jane; "their dress is always of a piece."

"And yet, Louisa insists upon it, that they do not bestow more
time and thought upon the subject, than the women of other
countries--and, certainly, not so much money."

"Everything is so easy to be had, and so much cheaper, in Paris,"
said Jane.

"But, she remarked, that they are never ashamed to wear a pretty
thing merely because it is cheap; nor to make themselves
comfortable, by wearing thick shoes in the mud, and a coarse,
warm shawl in a fog."

"We have not much mud or fog to trouble us, in this country;"
said Miss Agnes.

"No, aunt; but we have hard showers in summer, and cold weather
in winter; in spite of which, you know, our ladies must always be
dressed like fairies."

"I have often heard Madame de Bessieres praise the good sense of
her countrywomen, on those subjects," observed Miss Wyllys.

"Louisa maintains that the French-women have a great deal of
common sense; she says, that is the foundation of their good
taste; and, I suppose, after all, good taste is only good sense

"I suppose it is, my dear. Louisa seems to have come back even
more of a French-woman than you, Jane," observed Miss Agnes.

"Oh! I like the French very well, Aunt Agnes."

"But Louisa is quite eloquent on the subject."

"She was so very fortunate, Aunt, in having so kind a friend in
Paris, as Madame de Bessieres. Louisa describes the de Bessieres
as living in a delightful set of people--she mentioned half a
dozen persons whom she met habitually there, as not only amiable,
and highly accomplished, and well-bred, but high-principled, too.
She says she used often to wish you could know them, Aunt Agnes."

"I can readily believe anything good of the intimate friends of
Madame de Bessieres, for I never knew a woman whose character was
more worthy of respect. It was a great loss to us, when she
returned to France. She was very fond of you, Elinor."

"How kind in a person of Madame de Bessieres' age, to remember
me! I long to see the letter she wrote me; Robert says I shall
have it, certainly, to-morrow, when all their baggage will be at

"Madame de Bessieres often spoke of you, Elinor," said Jane. "She
bid me ask if you remembered all the pet names she used to call
you, but I forgot to mention it when I wrote."

"Just as you forget many other things, naughty girl; I must say
you are anything but a model correspondent, Jenny, dear."

"Well, I can't help it--I do dislike so to write!"

"You need not tell me that," said Elinor, laughing. "But I do
remember all Madame de Bessieres' kind names very well. It was
sometimes, mon lapin, mon lapin dore, mon chou, ma mere--they all
sounded pleasantly to me, she spoke them so kindly. But sometimes
to vex me, the other children--Master Harry among others--used to
translate them; and, though rabbit, and golden rabbit, sounded
very well in English, I did not care to be called cabbage."

{"mon lapin" = my rabbit; "mon chou" = my cabbage, a term of
endearment; "dore" = golden; "ma mere" = my mother (French)}

"Did you like the young people you met in Paris, Jane?" asked
Miss Wyllys.

"Oh, yes; the young men don't trouble you to entertain them, and
the girls are very good-natured and pleasant."

"Louisa seems to think the French girls are charming--so
graceful, and pleasing, and modest; really accomplished, and well
educated, too, she says--all that young women ought to be."

"Yes, she says that she hopes her little girls will be as well
educated as Madame de Bessieres' grand-daughters," said Jane.

"Well, I hope my little namesake may answer her mother's
expectations. She is a sweet little puss now, at any rate. Louisa
was quite vexed yesterday, with Mrs. Van Horne, who asked her if
the French girls were not all artful, and hypocritical. She
answered her, that, on the contrary, those she saw the most
frequently, were modest, ingenuous, and thoroughly
well-principled in every way, besides being very accomplished.
She laid great stress on one point, the respect invariably paid
by the young to the old, not only among the women, but the men,

"Yes," observed Miss Agnes; "I remember to have heard the same
remark from Madame de Bessieres; she observed, that after having
been in many different countries, she could justly claim for her
own, that in no other was so much deference paid to age as in

"That agrees precisely with Louisa's opinion. She says it is a
striking feature in French society, and appears thoroughly part
of their character--not at all assumed for appearance sake."

"It is a duty too little remembered in this country. It seems to
be only in our very best families that the subject is properly
attended to," said Miss Agnes.

"Louisa likes the manners of the men for the same reason; she
says that in society they are always respectful and obliging,
whatever other agreeable or disagreeable qualities they may have.
She remarked, that she had never met with a rude Frenchman in
society; but she had, repeatedly, met with rude Englishmen, in
very good company."

"What fault, pray, did Louisa find with the Englishmen you met,
Jane?" asked Miss Agnes.

"There is a certain set, who say and do rude things."

"I should not have thought that;" said Miss Wyllys.

"Oh, they have a way of making themselves disagreeable; now, a
Frenchman never tries to be disagreeable."

"One would think no one would try that," said Elinor.

"The English do, though, I assure you; at least a certain set. I
don't believe any other people do. I remember one evening, Harry
was very angry with a certain Mr. Ellery, son of Lord Greystone,
who used to come to our house quite often last spring. Do you
remember him, Harry?" she added, as Hazlehurst again approached
the table covered with French knicknacks {sic}, where the girls
were sitting.

"Whom were you talking about?" he asked.

"Mr. Ellery;--do you remember his manner?"

"Ellery?--To be sure I do!--Insufferable coxcomb!"

"Pray, what was his great offence?" asked Elinor, laughing.

Harry coloured violently. "Oh, it was his intolerable English
manner. I have known him stretch himself out nearly full length
on a sofa, on which Jane or Louisa was sitting, and stare at
them, with the most sickening expression, for half an hour at a

"Half an hour, Harry! how can you talk so? Half a minute, you

"Well, until he drove you away, at any rate. I was often
surprised that you could endure it as long as you did. But
happily, Louisa cooled him off after a while; though I had a
strong inclination to undertake the job myself."

"It was much better as it was; it was Louisa's place to do it,"
observed Miss Agnes.

"But I thought you liked the English," said Elinor, with some
surprise. "You were speaking very highly of several of your
English friends, last night."

"I do like the better sort very much. They are fine, manly
fellows, as ever breathed."

"What people did you like best?" asked Miss Agnes.

"A man who does not cherish prejudice, must naturally like the
best qualities and the best individuals of all nations."

"But have you no preference?"

"There cannot be a doubt, that society is more agreeable in
France, in Paris, than elsewhere."

"Are not the French too artificial?"

"I honestly do not think them more so than the English. English
simplicity often has a very artificial twist; with the French it
is just the reverse; art becomes a second-nature, with them."

"We hear the French accused of selfishness--"

"I think you would find both French and English more selfish than
we are. But they have different ways of showing it. The
Englishman is exclusive, and reserved; the Frenchman egotistical.
Reserve may seem dignified; but it often covers a great deal of
cold self-love; while French egotism--not EGOISME--is often
mingled with much naivete and bonhommie {sic}. Both nations,
however, are more selfish than the Italians, or Germans, I should

"Still, you seem to like the French the best of the two."

"Well, the French generally treat Americans more civilly than the
English. John Bull is very fond of giving himself airs of
superiority, after a disagreeable fashion of his own. Now a
Frenchman fancies himself so much more civilized than the rest of
the world, that he has a good-natured feeling towards everybody
but John Bull: he thinks he can afford to be amiable and

"If you are speaking of the best people in each country,
however," said Mr. Wyllys; "that is not the surest way of judging
national character. We must take the average."

"I am aware of that, sir."

"At any rate, you don't seem to have liked this Mr. Ellery," said

"Not in the least; I used to think him excessively impertinent,"
exclaimed Harry, and as his choler rose, while certain
recollections passed through his mind, he coloured again. To
change the subject, he took up the bag the young ladies had been

"What fanciful name may belong to this piece of finery; for, of
course, it is not a bag?" he asked.

"Oh, it is too useful, not to have a straight-forward, common
name; you may call it a sac, though, if you like. I could not
think of anything more imaginative; can you, Jane?"

"I dare say, there is another name; but I have forgotten it;
everything has a name of its own, in Paris."

"Your table looks like a fancy-shop, Aunt Agnes," continued
Hazlehurst; "gloves, bags, purses, boxes, muslins, portfolios,
and twenty other things, jumbled together."

"What sort of wood is the work-box that you chose for Miss
Patsey?" asked Elinor. "I am very glad you thought of her."

"Harry does not seem to have forgotten any of his friends, while
in Paris," said Miss Agnes.

Hazlehurst looked down.

"It is some dark wood; not rose-wood, however. It is rather
plain; but a serviceable-looking box," he said.

"Just the thing for Miss Patsey," observed Elinor.

"Here, Elinor," said Jane, "is the cape I spoke of;" and she
unfolded a paper, and drew from it a piece of muslin which had
evidently received a very pretty shape, fine embroidery, and
tasteful bows of riband from some Parisian hand. "This is the one
I spoke of.--Is it not much prettier than any you have seen?"

Elinor received the cape from her cousin, who was unusually
animated in its praises; it was held up to the light; then laid
on the table; the delicacy of the work was admired; then the
form, and the ribands; and, at last, Elinor threw it over Jane's
shoulders, observing, at the same time, that it was particularly
becoming to her. Harry seemed determined not to look; and, in
order to resist any inclination he may have felt, to do so, he
resolutely took up a Review, and began turning over its pages.
The young ladies' admiration of the cape lasted several minutes,
and, at length, Elinor called upon the rest of the party to
admire how becoming it was.

"Well, really," exclaimed Harry, looking rather cross, probably
at being disturbed in his reading, "young ladies' love of finery
seems quite inexhaustible; it is sometimes incomprehensible to
the duller perceptions of the male sex."

"Don't be saucy!" said Elinor.

"Why, you can't deny the fact, that you and Jane have been doing
nothing else, all the morning, but tumble over this Paris

"I beg your pardon--we have been talking quite sensibly, too;
have we not, Aunt Agnes?"

"Much as usual, I believe, my dear," replied Miss Wyllys.

"Pray observe, that the table contains something besides finery;
here are some very good French and Italian books; but, I suppose,
Jane will say, those you selected yourself."

"I certainly did," said Harry; "and the music, too."

"Well, I have half a mind not to tell you, that we like the books
and the music quite as well as anything here," said Elinor,
colouring; and then, as if almost fearing that she had betrayed
her feelings, she continued, in a gay tone. "But, why are you so
severe upon us this morning?"

"Unpalatable truth, I suppose," said Harry, shrugging his

"Pray, remember, sir, that if finery be thrown away upon the
noble sex, at the present day, it was not always so. Let me refer
you to certain kings, who, not content with studying their own
dresses, have condescended to compose those of their queens, too.
Remember how many great heroes--your Turennes and
Marlboroughs--have appeared in diamonds and satin, velvet and

{"Turenne" = Henri de la Tour d'Auvergne, Vicomte de Turenne
(1611-1675), a famous French military commander; "Marlborough" =
John Churchill Marlborough, Duke of Marlborough (1650-1722), a
famous British military commander}

"But that was two hundred years ago."

"They were heroes, nevertheless; and, I suppose, une fois
caporal, toujours caporal. But, if you prefer something nearer to
our own time, figure to yourself Horace Walpole, and General
Conway, some half-century since, consulting, in their
correspondence, upon the particular shade of satin best suited to
their complexions--whether pea-green, or white, were the most

{"une foi caporal...." = once a corporal, always a corporal
(French); "Walpole" = Horace Walpole (1717-1797), English author;
"Conway" = General Henry Conway (1721-1795), English general and

Hazlehurst laughed.

"There it is, in white and black!" said Elinor. "Just remember
Goldsmith, strutting about Temple Gardens, in his blush-coloured
satin, and fancying everybody in love with him, too!"

{"Goldsmith" = Oliver Goldsmith (1730-1775), British author;
"Temple Gardens" = in London on the Thames River, next to The
Temple (an ancient English school of law)}

"Quarter! quarter! Nelly," cried her grandfather, laughing.

"True, I must confess," said Harry, smiling; "but that was more
than fifty years ago. The world has grown wiser, now."

"Has it?"

"Look at our sober coats, to-day--the last Paris fashions, too!"

"Yes--but what is the reason?" cried Elinor, laughing herself.
"You have just found out that finery, and a showy exterior, are
of no use to you--they do not increase your influence with the
ladies! We do not value a man more for a showy exterior!"

"I submit," said Harry; but he coloured, and seemed to Miss
Agnes, more embarrassed by Elinor's remark than was necessary. He
threw down his book, however, and crossed the room to take a
place near her.

"What are you going to do this morning?" he said, quietly.

A walk was proposed, and soon after the young people, accompanied
by Bruno, set out together.


"Fashion, leader of a chattering train."

{William Cowper (English poet, 1731-1800), "Conversation" line

MISS PATSEY'S mother was more unwell than usual; and after
breakfast the following morning, Elinor prepared a little basket
of particularly fine peaches, which she proposed carrying to Mrs.
Hubbard, herself. Harry offered to accompany her, and Jane was
persuaded to join them; although in general, she disliked every
kind of motion except dancing.

The travellers had already seen Miss Patsey and her youngest
sister, and they were now so fortunate as to find Charlie at
home. He had come from New York, the evening before, and, of
course, was much pleased to see his young friends; indeed, he
showed so much emotion at the meeting, as to change colour when
he first saw the three cousins enter the little gate.

"Why, Charlie, you have grown in inches; as well as in dignity,
since we parted," said Hazlehurst, shaking him warmly by the

"I shall never arrive at any great elevation either way," replied
the youth, after shaking hands also with Jane.

"I don't know that; you have grown half a foot since I saw you,
and you have done wonders I hear, as a painter. Mr. Wyllys, and
Elinor, are both great admirers of your pictures."

"Wonders are comparative, you know; I believe I have accomplished
more, for instance, than my mother anticipated, for she thought I
was going to devote myself to signs and window-blinds."

{"window-blinds" = window shades were at this time frequently
decorated with hand painted pictures}

"That is your account of the matter. But don't suppose I have not
learned that Mr. Charles Hubbard is looked upon as one of our
most promising young artists, and that several of his pictures
are thought the best of their kind that have been painted this
side the Atlantic."

"You are very much improved in flattery by a visit to Paris,"
said Charlie, smiling.

"Only sober truth, as you must well know, Mr. Charles Hubbard. I
hope you have something here for us to look at; I am really very
impatient to see some of your pictures. I wish you could have
enjoyed half the fine works of art that I have seen in the last
two years."

Hubbard replied that he had strong hopes of going abroad himself
before long, thanks to the liberality of his uncle, and the
promise of several orders from different gentlemen. Harry
congratulated him warmly, though he regretted that Charlie should
think of leaving home just as he himself returned.

The young 1adies paid their visit to Mrs. Hubbard in her
bed-room, while Harry and Charlie talked over a hundred different
things together; and after engaging Charles to dine at
Wyllys-Roof, they walked home again.

"Miss Patsey's parlour really looks neater and smaller than
ever," observed Harry. "And I don't think I have seen such an
honest, good-natured, pleasant face as her's, since I left
Longbridge. She seems satisfied now, with the idea of Charlie's
being an artist."

"She is resigned to it, rather," said Elinor, "now that the
matter is entirely settled."

"Charlie looks pale," observed Harry; "he has grown though, and
he is no longer so very slight as he used to be."

"He seems to be well," replied Elinor; "but at times his spirits
are not good. He has been much interested in your
movements--quite anxious about your return."

"Charlie is a right good fellow," said Harry; "I was in hopes to
see a great deal of him, this winter." At this moment Jane
dropped a glove; of course Harry picked it up, and he continued
silent after doing so.

"There, you see, is Mr. Taylor's new house," observed Elinor, as
an opening in a grove of young trees allowed a full view of a
house of some size, and very great pretensions.

Jane looked at the home of her friend Adeline with
interest--Harry exclaimed, "What architecture!"

"Don't abuse it," said Elinor, "for I assure you 'Mr. Taylor's
splendid mansion'--'Mr. Taylor's magnificent seat' is very much

Just as the party reached the piazza of Wyllys-Roof, Mr. Taylor's
barouche drove up to the door, and in an instant Miss Adeline
Taylor had thrown herself, and her fashionable morning-dress,
into Jane's arms.

"I was so glad to find you were staying here!" she exclaimed. "Pa
and I only arrived from Saratoga last night; I did not expect you
for a month to come."

"We had a very short passage for the season," said Jane,
returning the embrace quite cordially.

"We seem to have taken all our friends rather by surprise, Miss
Taylor," said Harry.

"Well, if I had been in your place, I should have staid in Paris
till the last minute;--though, I dare say, YOU were in a hurry to
get back to Longbridge, Mr. Hazlehurst; no doubt you wanted to
see ME very much. Put I wonder that Jane did not contrive to stay

Harry looked a little embarrassed, and Jane, too, coloured a
little; though there seemed to be no very good reason that either
should do so.

"Did you find Saratoga pleasant, this summer, Miss Taylor?" asked
Elinor, drawing a chair near the bench where the two friends were
sitting, hand in hand.

"Oh, delightful!--Every house full, from the cellar to the
garret. How often I wished for you, Jane! if it was only earlier
in the season I would make pa take us there again, just for the
pleasure of showing off your new French fashions--you would be
the greatest belle of the season."

"We need not inquire who was the belle," said Elinor; "such
important news reaches even sober, home-staying people like us."

"Oh, we had half a dozen belles--all lively, pretty girls. There
was a young gentleman, from Savannah, at Congress Hall, who wrote
some verses about us, and called us the 'Chime of Bells;' it was
a sort of imitation of 'Those Evening Bells,' and was published
in the Saratoga papers. But if Jane had been there, I don't think
we should have stood much chance."

{"Those Evening Bells," popular song by the Irish poet Thomas
Moore (1779-1852), arranged by Sir John Stevenson (1761-1833)}

"You think the poet would have rung a bob-major, for Jane?"

"Certainly; with her trunks full of things from Paris, she would
have carried all before her."

"I don't think Jane has brought a very large share of finery with
her," said Elinor.

"No, indeed," said Harry; "only five trunks and three boxes,
which I had the honour of getting through the Custom-House."

"But part of it was for her friends," said Elinor.

"You would have needed a large supply, I can tell you, Jane,"
said Miss Adeline, "if you had wanted to out-dash us; for we
determined this season, some half-dozen of us, to out-do the
young ladies who were there last year."

"Did you succeed?" said Hazlehurst.

"To be sure we did. We made a firm resolve not only to change our
dress six times every day, but never to wear the same dress
twice. We drove several families away by that manoeuvre; but you
have no idea what fun it was to us, who entered into the spirit
of the thing. For two days, though, we were in great trepidation.
There were a couple of Baltimore girls there, great dashers, who
would not enter into our agreement; and the spiteful things
actually changed their dress seven times, the two first days."

"Seven changes!" said Elinor; "how did they manage that?"

"Why, they came down to breakfast in a white dress; after
breakfast they would drive in another, of course; then they would
show themselves in the drawing-room, after driving, in a pink
muslin, perhaps; at dinner, they wore another; then after dinner,
they would change again; in the evening they wore party-dresses,
of course; and after they went up stairs, they would visit each
other in what they called dress night-wrappers. Now, wasn't it
mean in them?"

"Very," said Harry, laughing.

"To be sure it was. Changing six times was no more than was
necessary; all we 'evening bells' did, was never to wear the same
dress twice. Would you believe it, after putting such a bold face
on the matter, the third day they disappeared suddenly! We had a
good crow, I can tell you. There was a poor little innocent
there, at the same time, from Boston, who tried to beat us on
another tack, as Lieut. Johnson said; they called her the
blue-bell. Well, she never changed her dress, morning, noon, or
night--and just to spite us. But, dear me, we only laughed--we
didn't care a fig for her; although she was very pretty, she
couldn't get a man to speak to her, excepting one old fossil
Professor, who wore spectacles, and walked up and down with her
on the piazza all the time."

{"Lieut. Johnson" = not identified}

"She was no worthy rival for the Chime of Bells!" said Harry.

"Certainly not. But I can tell you, that after we had been there
a week, two of the Chime were in great danger, and one of them no
less a person than your humble servant; the other was Anne
Hunter--Jane, you remember Anne Hunter, who was at Mrs. G-----'s
with us? Well, Anne and I were in great trouble, one day. Now,
Mr. Hazlehurst, I hope you can keep a secret."

"A lady's secret?--Can you doubt me, Miss Taylor?"

"Well, mind now, you never mention it; but, Anne and I got down
to our last dozen dresses, and we were pledged to stay a week
longer. This was Monday, and on Thursday there was to be a
pic-nic, given expressly to the Chime of Bells. At first, I
thought I was the only one in such a deplorable state; but,
happily, I discovered that Anne, whose room was next to mine, was
no better off. And now, how do you suppose we managed?"

"Pray, what did you do?" said Elinor, laughing.

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