Pencil Sketches; or Outlines of Character and Manners Read online

  MR. SMITH.

  Those of my readers who recollect the story of Mrs. Washington Potts,may not be sorry to learn that in less than two years after the marriageof Bromley Cheston and Albina, Mrs. Marsden was united to a southernplanter of great wealth and respectability, with whom she had becomeacquainted during a summer excursion to Newport. Mrs. Selbourne (thatbeing her new name) was now, as her letters denoted, completely in herelement, presiding over a large establishment, mistress of twelvehouse-servants, and almost continually engaged in doing the honours of aspacious mansion to a round of company, or in complying with similarinvitations from the leading people of a populous neighbourhood, or inreciprocating visits with the most fashionable inhabitants of thenearest city. Her only regret was that Mrs. Washington Potts could not"be there to see." But then as a set-off, Mrs. Selbourne rejoiced in thehappy reflection, that a distance of several hundred miles placed agreat gulf between herself and Aunt Quimby, from whose Vandal incursionsshe now felt a delightful sense of security. She was not, however, likemost of her compatriots, a warm advocate for the universal diffusion ofrailroads; neither did she assent very cordially to the common remarksabout this great invention, annihilating both time and space, andbringing "the north and the south, and the east and the west" into thesame neighbourhood.

  Bromley Cheston, having succeeded to a handsome inheritance by thedemise of an opulent relative, in addition to his house in Philadelphia,purchased as a summer residence that of his mother-in-law on the banksof the Delaware, greatly enlarging and improving it, and adding to itslittle domain some meadow and woodland; also a beautiful piece ofground which he converted into a green lawn sloping down towards theriver, and bounded on one side by a shady road that led to a convenientlanding-place.

  The happiness of Albina and her husband (who in the regular course ofpromotion became Captain Cheston) was much increased by the society ofBromley's sister Myrtilla, a beautiful, sprightly, and intelligent girl,whom they invited to live with them after the death of her maternalgrandmother, an eastern lady, with whom she had resided since the lossof her parents, and who had left her a little fortune of thirty thousanddollars.

  Their winters were passed in Philadelphia, where Albina found herselfquite at home in a circle far superior to that of Mrs. Washington Potts,who was one of the first to visit Mrs. Cheston on her marriage. Thisvisit was of course received with civility, but returned by merelyleaving a card at the door. No notice whatever was taken of Mrs. Potts'ssecond call; neither was she ever invited to the house.

  When Cheston was not at sea, little was wanting to complete the perfectfelicity of the family. It is true they were not entirely exempt fromthe occasional annoyances and petty vexations, inseparable from even thehappiest state of human life; but these were only transient shadows,that, on passing away, generally served as topics of amusement, andcaused them to wonder how trifles, diverting in the recollection, couldhave really so troubled them at the time of occurrence. Such, forinstance, were the frequent visitations of Mrs. Quimby, who told them(after they had enlarged their villa, and bought a carriage and atilbury), "Really, good people, now that things are all so genteel, andpleasant, and full-handed, I think I shall be apt to favour you with mycompany the greatest part of every summer. There's no danger of BillyFairfowl and Mary being jealous. They always let me go and come just asI please; and if I was to stay away ten years, I do not believe they'dbe the least affronted."

  As the old lady had intimated, her visits, instead of being "few and farbetween," were many and close together. It is said you may get used toanything, and therefore the Chestons _did not_ sell off their propertyand fly the country on account of Aunt Quimby. Luckily she never broughtwith her any of the Fairfowl family, her son-in-law having sufficienttact to avoid on principle all visiting intercourse with people whowere beyond his sphere: for, though certain of being kindly treated bythe Chestons themselves, he apprehended that he and his would probablybe looked down upon by persons whom they might chance to meet there.Mrs. Quimby, for her part, was totally obtuse to all sense of thesedistinctions.

  One Monday evening, on his return from town, Captain Cheston brought hiswife and sister invitations to a projected picnic party, among themanagers of which were two of his intimate friends. The company was toconsist chiefly of ladies and gentlemen from the city. Their design wasto assemble on the following Thursday, at some pleasant retreat on thebanks of the Delaware, and to recreate themselves with an unceremonious_fete champetre_. "I invited them," continued the captain, "to make useof my grounds for the purpose. We can find an excellent place for themin the woods by the river side. Delham and Lonsgrave will be hereto-morrow, to reconnoitre the capabilities of the place."

  The ladies were delighted with the prospect of the picnic party; moreespecially on finding that most of the company were known to them.

  "It will be charming," said Albina, "to have them near us, and to beable to supply them with many conveniences from our own house. You maybe assured, dear Bromley, that I shall liberally do my part towardscontributing to the picnickery. You know that our culinary preparationsnever go wrong now that I have more experience, good servants, and aboveall plenty to do with."

  "How fortunate," said Myrtilla Cheston, "that Mrs. Quimby left us thismorning. This last visit has been so long that I think she will scarcelyfavour us with another in less than two or three weeks. I hope she willnot hear that the picnic is to be on our place."

  "There is no danger," replied Cheston; "Aunt Quimby cannot possibly knowany of the persons concerned in it. And besides, I met her to-day in thestreet, and she told me that she was going to set out on Wednesday forBaltimore, to visit Billy Fairfowl's sister, Mrs. Bagnell: 'Also,' saidshe, 'it will take me from this time to that to pack my things, as Inever before went so far from home, and I dare say, I shall stay inBaltimore all the rest of the fall; I don't believe when the Bagnellsonce have me with them, they'll let me come away much this side ofwinter.'"

  "I sincerely hope they will not!" exclaimed Albina; "I am so glad thatNancy Fairfowl has married a Baltimorean. I trust they will make theirhouse so pleasant to Aunt Quimby, that she will transfer her favour fromus to them. You know she often tells us that Nancy and herself are aslike as two peas, both in looks and ways; and from her account, JohnnyBagnell must be a third pea, exactly resembling both of them."

  "And yet," observed Cheston, "people whose minds are of the samecalibre, do not always assimilate as well as might be supposed. When_too_ nearly alike, and too close to each other, they frequently rubtogether so as to grate exceedingly."

  We will pass over the intervening days by saying, that the preparationsfor the picnic party were duly and successfully made: the arrangement ofthe ground being undertaken by Captain Cheston, and Lieutenants Delhamand Lonsgrave, and completed with the taste, neatness, and judiciousarrangement, which always distinguishes such things when done byofficers, whether of army or navy.

  The appointed Thursday arrived. It was a lovely day, early in September:the air being of that delightful and exhilarating temperature, thatconverts the mere sense of existence into pleasure. The heats of summerwere over, and the sky had assumed its mildest tint of blue. All wascalm and cool, and lovely, and the country seemed sleeping in luxuriousrepose. The grass, refreshed by the August rains, looked green as thatof the "emerald isle;" and the forest trees had not yet begun to wearthe brilliant colours of autumn, excepting here and there a maple whosefoliage was already crimsoned. The orchards were loaded with fruit,glowing in ripeness; and the buckwheat fields, white with blossoms,perfumed the air with their honeyed fragrance. The rich flowers of theseason were in full bloom. Birds of beautiful plumage still lingered inthe woods, and were warbling their farewell notes previous to theirreturn to a more southern latitude. The morning sunbeams danced andglittered on the blue waters of the broad and brimming Delaware, as themirrored surface reflected its green and fertile banks with theirflowery meadows, embowering groves, and modestly elegant villas.

  The groun
d allotted to the party was an open space in the woodlands,which ran along an elevated ridge, looking directly down on the nobleriver that from its far-off source in the Catskill mountains, firstdividing Pennsylvania from New York and then from New Jersey, carriesits tributary stream the distance of three hundred miles, till it widensinto the dim and lonely bay whose last waves are blended with thedark-rolling Atlantic. Old trees of irregular and fantastic forms,leaning far over the water, grew on the extreme edge of this bank; andfrom its steep and crumbling side protruded their wildly twisted roots,fringed with long fibres that had been washed bare by the tide whichdaily overflowed the broad strip of gray sand, that margined the river.Part of an old fence, that had been broken down and carried away by theincursions of a spring freshet, still remained, at intervals, along theverge of the bank; and his ladies had prevailed on Captain Cheston notto repair it, as in its ruinous state it looked far more picturesquethan if new and in good order. In clearing this part of the forest manyof the largest and finest trees had been left standing, and beneaththeir shade seats were now dispersed for the company. In another part ofthe opening, a long table had been set under a sort of marquee,constructed of colours brought from the Navy Yard, and gracefullysuspended to the wide-spreading branches of some noble oaks: the starsand stripes of the most brilliant flag in the world, blending inpicturesque elegance with the green and clustering foliage. At a littledistance, under a group of trees, whose original forms were hiddenbeneath impervious masses of the forest grape-vine, was placed aside-table for the reception of the provisions, as they were unpackedfrom the baskets; and a clear shady brook which wandered near, ripplingover a bed of pebbles on its way down to the river, afforded anunlimited supply of "water clear as diamond spark," and made anexcellent refrigerator for the wine bottles.

  Most of the company were to go up in the early boat: purposing to returnin the evening by the railroad. Others, who preferred making their owntime, were to come in carriages. As soon as the bell of the steamboatgave notice of her approach, Captain Cheston, with his wife and sister,accompanied by Lieutenants Delham and Lonsgrave, went down to thelanding-place to receive the first division of the picnic party, whichwas chiefly of young people, all with smiling countenances, and lookingas if they anticipated a very pleasant little fete. The Chestons wereprepared to say with Seged of Ethiopia, "This day shall be a day ofhappiness"--but as the last of the gay procession stepped from thelanding-board, Aunt Quimby brought up the rear.

  "Oh! Bromley," said Mrs. Cheston, in a low voice, to her husband, "thereis our most _mal-a-propos_ of aunts--I thought she was a hundred milesoff. This is really too bad--what shall we do with her? On this day,too, of all days--"

  "We can do nothing, but endeavour, as usual, to make the best of her,"replied the captain; "but where did she pick up that common-looking man,whom she seems to be hauling along with her?"

  Mrs. Quimby now came up, and after the first greeting, Albina andMyrtilla endeavoured to withdraw from her the attention of the rest ofthe company, whom they conducted for the present to the house; but sheseized upon the captain, to whom she introduced her companion by theappellation of Mr. Smith. The stranger looked embarrassed, and seemed asif he could scarcely presume to take the offered hand of CaptainCheston, and muttered something about trespassing on hospitality, butAunt Quimby interrupted him with--"Oh! nonsense, now, Mr. Smith--where'sthe use of being so shame-faced, and making apologies for what can't behelped? I dare say my nephew and niece wonder quite as much at seeing_me_ here, supposing that I'm safe and sound at Nancy Bagnell's, inBaltimore. But are you sure my baggage is all on the barrow? Just stepback, and see if the big blue bandbox is safe, and the little yellowone; I should not wonder if the porter tosses them off, or crushes inthe lids. All men seem to have a spite at bandboxes."

  Mr. Smith meekly obeyed: and Aunt Quimby, taking the arm of Cheston,walked with him towards the house.

  "Tell me who this gentleman is," said Captain Cheston. "He cannot belongto any of the Smiths of 'Market, Arch, Race, and Vine, Chestnut, Walnut,Spruce, and Pine.'"

  "No," replied Mrs. Quimby, "nor to the Smiths of the cross-streetsneither--nor to those up in the Northern Liberties, nor them down inSouthwark. If you mean that he is not a Philadelphia man, you've hit thenail on the head--but that's no reason there shouldn't be Smiths enoughall over the world. However, the short and the long of it is this--I wasto have started for Baltimore yesterday morning, bright and early, withMr. and Mrs. Neverwait--but the shoemaker had not sent home myover-shoes, and the dyer had not finished my gray Canton crape shawl,that he was doing a cinnamon brown, and the milliner disappointed me innew-lining my bonnet; so I could not possibly go, you know, and theNeverwaits went without me. Well, the things _were_ brought home lastnight, which was like coming a day after the fair. But as I was allpacked up, I was bent upon going, somehow or other, this morning. So Imade Billy Fairfowl take me down to the wharf, bag and baggage, to seeif he could find anybody he knew to take charge of me to Baltimore. Andthere, as good luck would have it, we met with Mr. Smith, who has beenseveral times in Billy's store, and bought domestics of him, and gotacquainted with him; so that Billy, finding this poor Mr. Smith was astranger, and a man that took no airs, and that did not set up for greatthings, got very sociable with him, and even invited him to tea. Now,when we met him on the wharf, Mr. Smith was quite a windfall for us, andhe agreed to escort me to Baltimore, as of course he must, when he wasasked. So, then, Billy being in a hurry to go to market for breakfast(before all the pick of the butter was gone), just bade me good-bye, andleft me on the wharf, seeing what good hands I was in. Now, poor Mr.Smith being a stranger, and, of course, not so well used to steamboatsas our own people, took me into the wrong one; for the New York andBaltimore boats were laying side by side, and seemed both mixedtogether, so that it was hard telling which was which, the crowd hidingeverything from us. And after we got on board, I was so busy talking,and he a listening, and looking at the people, that we never found outour mistake till we were half-way up the river, instead of beinghalf-way down it. And then I heard the ladies all round talking of a nicor a pic (or both I believe they called it), that they said was to beheld on Captain Cheston's grounds. So, then, I pricked up my ears, andfound that it was even so; and I told them that Captain Cheston was anear relation of mine, for his wife was own daughter to Mrs. Marsdenthat was, whose first husband was my sister Nelly's own son; and allabout your marrying Albina, and what a handsome place you have, and howMr. Smith and I had got into the wrong boat, and were getting carriedoff, being taken up the river instead of down."

  "And what did the company say to all this?" inquired Cheston.

  "Why, I don't exactly remember, but they must have said something; for Iknow those that were nearest stopped their own talk when I began. And,after awhile, I went across to the other side of the boat, where Mr.Smith was leaning over the railing, and looking at the foam flying fromthe wheels, (as if it was something new), and I pulled his sleeve, andtold him we were quite in luck to-day, for we should be at a partywithout intending it. And he made a sort of humming and hawing aboutintruding himself (as he called it) without an invitation. But I toldhim to leave all that to me--I'd engage to pass him through. And hetalked something of betaking himself to the nearest hotel after welanded, and waiting for the next boat down the river. However, I wouldnot listen to that; and I made him understand that any how there couldbe no Baltimore to-day, as it was quite too late to get there now by anycontrivance at all; and that we could go down with the other companythis evening by the railroad, and take a fresh start to-morrow morning.Still he seemed to hold back; and I told him that as to our going to theparty, all things had turned up as if it _was_ to be, and I should thinkit a sin to fling such good luck aside, when it was just ready to dropinto our mouths, and that he might never have another chance of being insuch genteel company as long as he lived. This last hint seemed to dothe business, for he gave a sort of a pleased smile, and made no moreobjection. And then I put him in mind th
at the people that owned theground were my own niece and nephew, who were always crazy to see me,and have me with them; and I could answer for it they'd be just as gladto see any of my acquaintance--and as to the eatables, I was sure _his_being there would not make a cent's worth of difference, for I wascertain there'd be plenty, and oceans of plenty, and I told him only togo and look at the baskets of victuals that were going up in the boat;besides all that, I knew the Chestons would provide well, for they werenever backward with anything."

  She now stopped to take breath, and Cheston inquired if her son-in-lawknew nothing more of Mr. Smith than from merely seeing him in his store.

  "Oh! yes; did not I tell you we had him to tea? You need not mention itto anybody--but (if the truth must be told) Mr. Smith is an Englishman.The poor man can't help that, you know: and I'm sure I should never haveguessed it, for he neither looks English nor talks English. He is not abit like that impudent Mr. Montague, who took slices out of Albina's bigplum-cake hours before the company came, at that great party she gavefor Mrs. Washington Potts."

  "Pshaw!" said Cheston.

  "Yes, you may well pshaw at it. But after all, for my own part, I mustsay I enjoyed myself very much that evening. I had a great deal ofpleasant talk. I was sorry, afterwards, that I did not stay down stairsto the last, to see if all the company took French leave like me. Ifthey did, it must have been quite a pretty sight to see them go. By thebye (now I talk of French leave) did you hear that the WashingtonPottses have broke all to pieces and gone off to France to live upon themoney that he made over to his wife to keep it from his creditors?"

  "But, Mr. Smith--" resumed Cheston.

  "Why, Bromley, what makes you so fidgety? Billy Fairfowl (though I sayit that shouldn't say it) is not the man to ask people to tea unless heis sure they are pretty decent sort of folks. So he went first to theBritish Consul, and inquired about Mr. Smith, and described his look anddress just as he would a runaway 'prentice. And the Consul knew exactlywho he meant, and told him he would answer for Mr. Smith's being a manof good character, and perfectly honest and respectable. And that, youknow, is quite as much as need be said of anybody. So, then, we had himto tea, quite in a plain way; but he seemed very easily satisfied, andthough there were huckleberries, and cucumbers, and dough-nuts, he didnot eat a thing but bread and butter, and not much of that, and took nosugar in his tea, and only drank two cups. And Billy talked to him thewhole evening about our factories, and our coal and iron: and helistened quite attentively, and seemed to understand very well, thoughhe did not say much; and he kept awake all the time, which was veryclever of him, and more than Billy is used to. He seems like agood-hearted man, for he saved little Jane from pulling the tea-waiterdown upon her head, as she was coming out from under the table; and heran and picked up Johnny, when he fell over the rockers of the bigchair, and wiped the blood off his nose with his own clean handkerchief.I dare say he's a good soul; but he is very humble-minded, and seems soafraid of saying wrong that he hardly says anything. Here he comes,trudging along beside the porter; and I see he has got all the baggagesafe, even the brown paper parcel and the calico bag. That's his owntrunk, under all the rest."

  Mr. Smith now came up, and inquired of Captain Cheston for the nearestinn, that he might remain there till a boat passed down forPhiladelphia. "Why, Mr. Smith," interrupted Aunt Quimby, "where's thesense of being so backward? We ought to be thankful for our good luckin getting here on the very day of the picnic, even though we _did_ comeby mistake. And now you _are_ here, it's all nonsense for you to runaway, and go and mope by yourself at a country tavern. I suppose you areafraid you're not welcome; but I'll answer for you as well as myself."

  Civility to the stranger required that Captain Cheston should secondMrs. Quimby; and he did so in terms so polite that Mr. Smith wasinduced, with much diffidence, to remain.

  "Poor man!" said Aunt Quimby, in a low voice, to the captain, "betweenourselves, it's plain enough that he is not much used to being amonggreat people, and he's afraid of feeling like a fish out of water. Hemust have a very poor opinion of himself, for even at Billy Fairfowl'she did not seem quite at home; though we all tried to encourage him, andI told him myself, as soon as we sat down to the tea-table, to make justas free as if he was in his own house."

  Arrived at the mansion of the Chestons, Mrs. Quimby at first objected tochanging her dress, which was a very rusty black silk, with a bonnet tomatch; declaring that she was sure nothing was expected of people whowere on their travels, and that she saw no use in taking the trouble tounpack her baggage. She was, however, overruled by the representationsof Albina, who offered to both unpack and re-pack for her. Accordinglyshe equipped herself in what she called her second-best suit. The gownwas a thick rustling silk, of a very reddish brown, with a new insidekerchief of blue-tinted book muslin that had never been washed. Over hershoulders she pinned her Canton-crape shawl, whose brown tinge wasentirely at variance with the shade of her gown. On her head was a stiffhard cap, trimmed with satin ribbon, of a still different brown colour,the ends of the bows sticking out horizontally, and scolloped intonumerous points. She would not wear her best bonnet, lest it should beinjured; and fortunately her worst was so small that she found, if sheput it on, it would crush her second-best cap. She carried in one hand astiff-starched handkerchief of imitation-cambric, which she consideredtoo good to unfold; and with the other she held over her head a fadedgreen parasol.

  Thus equipped, the old lady set out with Captain and Mrs. Cheston forthe scene of the picnic; the rest of the party being a little in advanceof them. They saw Mr. Smith strolling about the lawn, and Mrs. Quimbycalled to him to come and give his arm to her niece, saying, "There,Albina, take him under your wing, and try to make him sociable, while Iwalk on with your husband. Bromley, how well you look in yournavy-regimentals. I declare I'm more and more in luck. It is noteverybody that can have an officer always ready and willing to 'squirethem"--And the old lady (like many young ladies) unconsciously put on adifferent face and a different walk, while escorted by a gentleman inuniform.

  "Bromley," continued Aunt Quimby, "I heard some of the picnic ladies inthe boat saying that those which are to ride up are to bring a lion withthem. This made me open my eyes, and put me all in quiver; so I couldnot help speaking out, and saying--I should make a real right downobjection to his being let loose among the company, even if he was everso tame. Then they laughed, and one of them said that a lion meant agreat man; and asked me if I had never heard the term before. I answeredthat may be I had, but it must have slipped my memory; and that Ithought it a great shame to speak of Christian people as if they werewild beasts."

  "And who is this great man?" inquired Cheston.

  "Oh! he's a foreigner from beyond sea, and he is coming with some of theladies in their own carriage--Baron Somebody"--

  "Baron Von Klingenberg," said Cheston, "I have heard of him."

  "That's the very name. It seems he is just come from Germany, and hastaken rooms at one of the tip-top hotels, where he has a table all tohimself. I wonder how any man can bear to eat his victuals sitting upall alone, with not a soul to speak a word with. I think I should die ifI had no body to talk to. Well--they said that this Baron is a person ofvery high _tone_, which I suppose means that he has a very loudvoice--and from what I could gather, it's fashionable for the youngladies to fall in love with him, and they think it an honour to get abow from him in Chesnut street, and they take him all about with them.And they say he has in his own country a castle that stands on banks ofrind, which seems a strange foundation. Dear me--now we've got to thepicnic place--how gay and pretty everything looks, and what heaps ofvictuals there must be in all those baskets, and oceans of drinkables inall those bottles and demijohns. Mercy on me--I pity thedish-washers--when will they get through all the dirty plates! And Ideclare! how beautiful the flags look! fixed up over the table justlike bed-curtains--I am glad you have plenty of chairs here, besides thebenches.--And only see!--if here a'n't cakes and lemonade coming roun
d."

  The old lady took her seat under one of the large trees, and enteredunhesitatingly into whatever conversation was within her hearing;frequently calling away the Chestons to ask them questions or address tothem remarks. The company generally divided into groups; some sat, somewalked, some talked; and some, retreating farther into the woods, amusedthemselves and each other with singing, or playing forfeits. There was,as is usual in Philadelphia assemblages, a very large proportion ofhandsome young ladies; and all were dressed in that consistent,tasteful, and decorous manner which distinguishes the fair damsels ofthe city of Penn.

  In a short time Mrs. Quimby missed her protegee, and looking round forhim she exclaimed--"Oh! if there is not Mr. Smith a sitting on a rail,just back of me, all the time. Do come down off the fence, Mr. Smith.You'll find a much pleasanter seat on this low stump behind me, than tostay perched up there. Myrtilla Cheston, my dear, come here--I want tospeak to you."

  Miss Cheston had the amiability to approach promptly and cheerfully:though called away from an animated conversation with two officers ofthe navy, two of the army, and three young lawyers, who had all formed asemicircle round four of the most attractive belles: herself being thecynosure.

  "Myrtilla," said Aunt Quimby, in rather a low voice, "do take someaccount of this poor forlorn man that's sitting behind me. He's so verybackward, and thinks himself such a mere nobody, that I dare say hefeels bad enough at being here without an invitation, and all amongstrangers too--though I've told him over and over that he need not havethe least fear of being welcome. There now--there's a good girl--go andspirit him up a little. You know you are at home here on your brother'sown ground."

  "I scarcely know how to talk to an Englishman," replied Myrtilla, in avery low voice.

  "Why, can't you ask him, if he ever in his life saw so wide a river, andif he ever in his life saw such big trees, and if he don't think our suna great deal brighter than his, and if he ever smelt buckwheat before?"

  Myrtilla turned towards Mr. Smith (and perceiving from hisill-suppressed smile that he had heard Mrs. Quimby's instructions) likeOlivia in the play, she humoured the jest by literally following them,making a curtsy to the gentleman, and saying, "Mr. Smith, did you everin your life see so wide a river? did you ever in your life see such bigtrees? don't you think our sun a great deal brighter than yours? and didyou ever smell buckwheat before?"

  "I have not had that happiness," replied Mr. Smith with a simperinglaugh, as he rose from the old stump, and, forgetting that it was not achair, tried to hand it to Myrtilla. She bowed in acknowledgment, placedherself on the seat--and for awhile endeavoured to entertain Mr. Smith,as he stood leaning (not picturesquely) against a portion of the brokenfence.

  In the mean time Mrs. Quimby continued to call on the attention of thosearound her. To some the old lady was a source of amusement, to others ofdisgust and annoyance. By this time they all understood who she was, andhow she happened to be there. Fixing her eyes on a very dignified andfashionable looking young lady, whom she had heard addressed as MissLybrand, and (who with several others) was sitting nearly opposite,"Pray, Miss," said Aunt Quimby, "was your grandfather's name Moses?"

  "It was," replied the young lady.

  "Oh! then you must be a granddaughter of old Moses Lybrand, who kept alivery stable up in Race street; and his son Aaron always used to drivethe best carriage, after the old man was past doing it himself. Is yourfather's name Aaron?"

  "No, madam," said Miss Lybrand--looking very red--"My father's name isRichard."

  "Richard--he must have been one of the second wife's children. Oh! Iremember seeing him about when he was a little boy. He had a curly head,and on week days generally wore a gray jacket and corduroy trowsers; buthe had a nice bottle-green suit for Sunday. Yes, yes--they went to ourchurch, and sat up in the gallery. And he was your father, was he? ThenAaron must have been your own uncle. He was a very careful driver for ayoung man. He learnt of his father. I remember just after we were firstmarried, Mr. Quimby hiring Moses Lybrand's best carriage to take me andmy bridesmaids and groomsmen on a trip to Germantown. It was a yellowcoachee with red curtains, and held us all very well with close packing.In those days people like us took their wedding rides to Germantown andFrankford and Darby, and ordered a dinner at a tavern with custards andwhips, and came home in the evening. And the high-flyers, when _they_got married, went as far as Chester or Dunks's Ferry. They did not thenstart off from the church door and scour the roads all the way toNiagara just because they were brides and grooms; as if that was anyreason for flying their homes directly. But pray what has become of youruncle Aaron?"

  "I do not know," said the young lady, looking much displeased; "I neverheard of him."

  "But did not you tell me your grandfather's name was Moses?"

  "There may have been other Moses Lybrands."

  "Was not he a short pockmarked man, that walked a little lame, withsomething of a cast in his right eye: or, I won't be positive, may be itwas in the left?"

  "I am very sure papa's father was no such looking person," replied MissLybrand, "but I never saw him--he died before I was born--"

  "Poor old man," resumed Mrs. Quimby, "if I remember right, Moses becamechildish many years before his death."

  Miss Lybrand then rose hastily, and proposed to her immediate companionsa walk farther into the woods; and Myrtilla, leaving the vicinity of Mr.Smith, came forward and joined them: her friends making a private signalto her not to invite the aforesaid gentleman to accompany them.

  Aunt Quimby saw them depart, and looking round said--"Why, Mr.Smith--have the girls given you the slip? But to be sure, they meant youto follow them!"

  Mr. Smith signified that he had not courage to do so without aninvitation, and that he feared he had already been tiring Miss Cheston.

  "Pho, pho," said Mrs. Quimby, "you are quite too humble. Pluck up alittle spirit, and run after the girls."

  "I believe," replied he, "I cannot take such a liberty."

  "Then I'll call Captain Cheston to introduce you to some more gentlemen.Here--Bromley--"

  "No--no," said Mr. Smith, stopping her apprehensively; "I would rathernot intrude any farther upon his kindness."

  "I declare you are the shame-facedest man I ever saw in my life. Well,then, you can walk about, and look at the trees and bushes. There's afine large buttonwood, and there's a sassafras; or you can go to theedge of the bank and look at the river and watch how the tide goes downand leaves the splatter-docks standing in the mud. See how thick theyare at low water--I wonder if you couldn't count them. And may beyou'll see a wood-shallop pass along, or may be a coal-barge. And whoknows but a sturgeon may jump out of the water, and turn head over heelsand back again--it's quite a handsome sight!"

  Good Mr. Smith did as he was bidden, and walked about and looked atthings, and probably counted the splatter-docks, and perhaps saw a fishjump.

  "It's all bashfulness--nothing in the world but bashfulness," pursuedMrs. Quimby; "that's the only reason Mr. Smith don't talk."

  "For my part," said a very elegant looking girl, "I am perfectly willingto impute the taciturnity of Mr. Smith (and that of all other silentpeople) to modesty. But yet I must say, that as far as I have hadopportunities of observing, most men above the age of twenty havesufficient courage to talk, if they know what to say. When the head iswell furnished with ideas, the tongue cannot habitually refrain fromgiving them utterance."

  "That's a very good observation," said Mrs. Quimby, "and suits _me_exactly. But as to Mr. Smith, I do believe it's all bashfulness withhim. Between ourselves (though the British consul warrants himrespectable) I doubt whether he was ever in such genteel society before;and may be he thinks it his duty to listen and not to talk, poor man.But then he ought to know, that in our country he need not be afraid ofnobody: and that here all people are equal, and one is as good asanother."

  "Not exactly," said the young lady, "we have in America, as in Europe,numerous gradations of mind, manners, and character. Politically we
areequal, as far as regards the rights of citizens and the protection ofthe laws; and also we have no privileged orders. But individually it isdifficult for the refined and the vulgar, the learned and the ignorant,the virtuous and the vicious to associate familiarly andindiscriminately, even in a republic."

  The old lady looked mystified for a few moments, and then proceeded--"Asyou say, people's different. We can't be hail fellow well met, with Tom,Dick, and Harry--but for my part I think myself as good as anybody!"

  No one contradicted this opinion, and just then a gentleman came up andsaid to the young lady--"Miss Atwood, allow me to present you with asprig of the last wild roses of the season. I found a few stilllingering on a bush in a shady lane just above."

  "'I bid their blossoms in my bonnet wave,'"

  said Miss Atwood--inserting them amid one of the riband bows.

  "Atwood--Atwood," said Aunt Quimby, "I know the name very well. Is notyour father Charles Atwood, who used to keep a large wholesale store inFront street?"

  "I have the happiness of being that gentleman's daughter," replied theyoung lady.

  "And you live up Chestnut now, don't you--among the fashionables?"

  "My father's house _is_ up Chestnut street."

  "Your mother was a Ross, wasn't she?"

  "Her maiden name _was_ Ross."

  "I thought so," proceeded Mrs. Quimby; "I remember your father verywell. He was the son of Tommy Atwood, who kept an ironmonger's shop downSecond street by the New Market. Your grandfather was a very obligingman, rather fat. I have often been in his store, when we lived down thatway. I remember once of buying a waffle-iron of him, and when I tried itand found it did not make a pretty pattern on the waffles, I took itback to him to change it: but having no other pattern, he returned methe money as soon as I asked him. And another time, he had the kitchentongs mended for me without charging a cent, when I put him in mind thatI had bought them there; which was certainly very genteel of him. And nowonder he made a fortune; as all people do that are obliging to theircustomers, and properly thankful to them. Your grandfather had abrother, Jemmy Atwood, who kept a china shop up Third street. He wasyour great-uncle, and he married Sally Dickison, whose father, old AdamDickison, was in the shoemaking line, and died rich. I have heard Mr.Quimby tell all about them. He knew all the family quite well, and heonce had a sort of notion of Sally Dickison himself, before he gotacquainted with me. Old Adam Dickison was a very good man, but he andhis wife were rather too fond of family names. He called one of hisdaughters Sarah, after his mother, and another Sarah, after his wife;for he said 'there couldn't be too many Sally Dickisons.' But they foundafterwards they could not get along without tacking Ann to one of theSarahs, and Jane to the other. Then they had a little girl whom theycalled Debby, after some aunt Deborah. But little Debby died, and nextthey had a boy; yet rather than the name should be lost, they christenedhim Debbius. I wish I could remember whether Debbius was called afterthe little Debby or the big one. Sometimes I think it was one andsometimes t'other--I dare say Miss Atwood, you can tell, as you belongto the family?"

  "I am glad that I can set this question at rest," replied Miss Atwood,smiling heroically; "I have heard the circumstance mentioned when myfather has spoken of his great-uncle Jemmy, the chinaman, and of theshoemaker's family into which uncle Jemmy married, and in which were thetwo Sallys. Debbius was called equally after his sister and his aunt."

  Then turning to the very handsome and _distingue_-looking younggentleman who had brought her the flowers, and who had seemed muchamused at the foregoing dialogue, Miss Atwood took his hand, and said toAunt Quimby: "Let me present to you a grandson of that very Debbius, Mr.Edward Symmington, my sort of cousin; and son of Mr. Symmington, thelawyer, who chanced to marry Debbius's daughter."

  Young Symmington laughed, and, after telling Miss Atwood that she dideverything with a good grace, he proposed that they should join some oftheir friends who were amusing themselves further up in the woods. MissAtwood took his arm, and, bowing to Mrs. Quimby, they departed.

  "That's a very pleasant young lady," said she; "I am glad I've gotacquainted with her. She's very much like her grandfather, theironmonger; her nose is the very image of old Benny's."

  Fearing that _their_ turn might come next, all the young people nowdispersed from the vicinity of Aunt Quimby, who, accosting a housewifelylady that had volunteered to superintend the arrangements of the table,proposed going with her to see the baskets unpacked.

  The remainder of the morning passed pleasantly away; and about noon,Myrtilla Cheston and her companions, returning from their ramble, gavenotice that the carriages from town were approaching. Shortly after,there appeared at the entrance of the wood, several vehicles filled withladies and gentlemen, who had preferred this mode of conveyance tocoming up in the early boat. Most of the company went to meet them,being curious to see exactly who alighted.

  When the last carriage drew up, there was a buzz all round: "There isthe Baron! there is the Baron Von Klingenberg; as usual, with Mrs. BlakeBentley and her daughters!"

  After the new arrivals had been conducted by the Chestons to the house,and adjusted their dresses, they were shown into what was considered thedrawing-room part of the woods, and accommodated with seats. But it wasvery evident that Mrs. Blake Bentley's party were desirous of keepingchiefly to themselves, talking very loudly to each other, and seeminglyresolved to attract the attention of every one round.

  "Bromley," said Mrs. Quimby, having called Captain Cheston to her, "isthat a baron?"

  "That is the Baron Von Klingenberg."

  "Well, between ourselves, he's about as ugly a man as ever I laid myeyes on. At least, he looks so at that distance; a clumsy fellow, withhigh shoulders and a round back, and his face all over hair, and asbandy as he can be, besides; and he's not a bit young, neither."

  "Barons never seem to me young," said Miss Turretville, a young lady ofthe romantic school, "but Counts always do."

  "I declare even Mr. Smith is better looking," pursued Aunt Quimby,fixing her eyes on the baron; "don't you think so, Miss?"

  "I think nothing about him," replied the fair Turretville.

  "Mr. Smith," said Myrtilla, "perhaps is not actually ugly, and, ifproperly dressed, might look tolerably; but he is too meek and too weak.I wasted much time in trying to entertain him, as I sat under the tree;but he only looked down and simpered, and scarcely ventured a word inreply. One thing is certain, I shall take no further account of him."

  "Now, Myrtilla, it's a shame, to set your face against the poor man inthis way. I dare say he is very good."

  "That is always said of stupid people."

  "No doubt it would brighten him wonderfully, if you were to dance withhim when the ball begins."

  "Dance!" said Myrtilla, "dance with _him_. Do you suppose he knowseither a step or a figure? No, no! I shall take care never to exhibitmyself as Mr. Smith's partner, and I beg of you, Aunt Quimby, on noaccount to hint such a thing to him. Besides, I am already engaged threesets deep," and she ran away, on seeing that Mr. Smith was approaching.

  "Well, Mr. Smith," said the old lady, "have you been looking at theshows of the place? And now the greatest show of all has arrived--theBaron of Clinkanbeg. Have you seen him?"

  "I believe I have," replied Mr. Smith.

  "You wander about like a lost sheep, Mr. Smith," said Aunt Quimby,protectingly, "and look as if you had not a word to throw at a dog; sosit down and talk to _me_. There's a dead log for you. And now youshan't stir another step till dinner-time." Mr. Smith seated himself onthe dead log, and Mrs. Quimby proceeded: "I wish, though, we could findplaces a little nearer to the baron and his ladies, and hear them talk.Till to-day, I never heard a nobleman speak in my life, having had nochance. But, after all, I dare say they have voices much like otherpeople. Did you ever happen to hear any of them talk, when you lived inEngland?"

  "Once or twice, I believe," said Mr. Smith.

  "Of course--excuse me, Mr. Smith--but, of course, they didn't
speak to_you_?"

  "If I recollect rightly, they chanced to have occasion to do so."

  "On business, I suppose. Do noblemen go to shops themselves and buytheir own things? Mr. Smith, just please to tell me what line you arein."

  Mr. Smith looked very red, and cast down his eyes. "I am in the tinline," said he, after a pause.

  "The tin line! Well, never mind; though, to be sure, I did not expectyou were a tinner. Perhaps you do a little also in the japan way?"

  "No," replied Mr. Smith, magnanimously, "I deal in nothing but tin,plain tin!"

  "Well, if you think of opening a shop in Philadelphia, I am pretty sureBilly Fairfowl will give you his custom; and I'll try to get Mrs.Pattypan and Mrs. Kettleworth to buy all their tins of you."

  Mr. Smith bowed his head in thankfulness.

  "One thing I'm sure of," continued Aunt Quimby, "you'll never be theleast above your business. And, I dare say, after you get used to ourAmerican ways, and a little more acquainted with our people, you'll beable to take courage and hold up your head, and look about quite pert."

  Poor Mr. Smith covered his face with his hands and shook his head, as ifrepelling the possibility of his ever looking pert.

  The Baron Von Klingenberg and his party were all on chairs, and formedan impervious group. Mrs. Blake Bentley sat on one side of him, hereldest daughter on the other, the second and third Miss Bentleysdirectly in front, and the fourth, a young lady of eighteen, whoaffected infantine simplicity and passed for a child, seated herselfinnocently on the grass at the baron's feet. Mrs. Bentley was what somecall a fine-looking woman, being rather on a large scale, with fierceblack eyes, a somewhat acquiline nose, a set of very white teeth (fromthe last new dentist), very red cheeks, and a profusion of darkringlets. Her dress, and that of her daughters, was always of the mostcostly description, their whole costume being made and arranged in anultra fashionable manner. Around the Bentley party was a circle oflisteners, and admirers, and enviers; and behind that circle was anotherand another. Into the outworks of the last, Aunt Quimby pushed her way,leading, or rather pulling, the helpless Mr. Smith along with her.

  The Baron Von Klingenberg (to do him justice) spoke our language withgreat facility, his foreign accent being so slight that many thoughtthey could not perceive it at all. Looking over the heads of the ladiesimmediately around him, he levelled his opera-glass at all who werewithin his view, occasionally inquiring about them of Mrs. BlakeBentley, who also could not see without her glass. She told him thenames of those whom she considered the most fashionable, adding,confidentially, a disparaging remark upon each. Of a large proportion ofthe company, she affected, however, to know nothing, replying to thebaron's questions with: "Oh! I really cannot tell you. They are peoplewhom one does not know--very respectable, no doubt; but not the sort ofpersons one meets in society. You must be aware that on these occasionsthe company is always more or less mixed, for which reason I generallybring my own party along with me."

  "This assemblage," said the baron, "somewhat reminds me of the annual_fetes_ I give to my serfs in the park that surrounds my castle, at thecataract of the Rhine."

  Miss Turretville had just come up, leaning on the arm of MyrtillaCheston. "Let us try to get nearer to the baron," said she; "he istalking about castles. Oh! I am so glad that I have been introduced tohim. I met him the other evening at Mrs. De Mingle's select party, andhe took my fan out of my hand and fanned himself with it. There iscertainly an elegant ease about European gentlemen that our Americanscan never acquire."

  "Where is the ease and elegance of Mr. Smith?" thought Myrtilla, as shelooked over at that forlorn individual shrinking behind Aunt Quimby.

  "As I was saying," pursued the baron, lolling back in his chair andapplying to his nose Mrs. Bentley's magnificent essence-bottle, "when Igive these _fetes_ to my serfs, I regale them with Westphalia hams frommy own hunting-grounds, and with hock from my own vineyards."

  "Dear me! ham and hock!" ejaculated Mrs. Quimby.

  "Baron," said Miss Turretville, "I suppose you have visited the Hartzmountains?"

  "My castle stands on one of them."

  "Charming! Then you have seen the Brocken?"

  "It is directly in front of my ramparts."

  "How delightful! Do you never imagine that on a stormy night you hearthe witches riding through the air, to hold their revels on the Brocken?Are there still brigands in the Black Forest?"

  "Troops of them. The Black Forest is just back of my own woods. Therobbers were once so audacious as to attack my castle, and we had abloody fight. But we at length succeeded in taking all that were leftalive."

  "What a pity! Was their captain anything like Charles de Moor?"

  "Just such a man."

  "Baron," observed Myrtilla, a little mischievously, "the situation ofyour castle must be _unique_; in the midst of the Hartz mountains, atthe falls of the Rhine, with the Brocken in front, and the Black Forestbehind."

  "You doat on the place, don't you?" asked Miss Turretville. "Do you livethere always?"

  "No; only in the hunting season. I am equally at home in all thecapitals of the continent. I might, perhaps, be chiefly at my nativeplace, Vienna, only my friend, the emperor, is never happy but when I amwith him; and his devotion to me is rather overwhelming. The truth is,one gets surfeited with courts, and kings, and princes; so I thought itwould be quite refreshing to take a trip to America, having greatcuriosity to see what sort of a place it is. I recollect, at the lastcourt ball, the emperor was teazing me to waltz with his cousin, theArchduchess of Hesse Hoblingen, who, he feared, would be offended if Ineglected her. But her serene highness dances as if she had acannon-ball chained to each foot, and so I got off by flatly telling myfriend the emperor that if women chose to go to balls in velvet andermine, and with coronets on their heads, they might get princes or somesuch people to dance with them; as for my part, it was ratherexcruciating to whirl about with persons in heavy royal robes!"

  "Is it possible!" exclaimed Miss Turretville, "did you venture to talkso to an emperor? Of course before next day you were loaded with chainsand immured in a dungeon; from which I suppose you escaped by asubterranean passage."

  "Not at all; my old crony the emperor knows his man; so he only laughedand slapped me on the shoulder, and I took his arm, and we sauntered offtogether to the other end of the grand saloon. I think I was in myhussar uniform; I recollect that evening I broke my quizzing glass, andhad to borrow the Princess of Saxe Blinkenberg's."

  "Was it very elegant--set round with diamonds?" asked Miss MatildaBentley, putting up to her face a hand on which glittered a valuablebrilliant.

  "Quite likely it was, but I never look at diamonds; one gets so tired ofthem. I have not worn any of mine these seven years; I often joke withmy friend Prince Esterhazy about his diamond coat, that he _will_persist in wearing on great occasions. Its glitter really incommodes myeyes when he happens to be near me, as he generally is. Whenever hemoves you may track him by the gems that drop from it, and you may hearhim far off by their continual tinkling as they fall."

  "Only listen to that, Mr. Smith," said Aunt Quimby aside to herprotegee, "I do not believe there is such a man in the world as thatHester Hazy with his diamond coat, that he's telling all this rigmaroleabout. It sounds like one of Mother Bunch's tales."

  "I rather think there is such a man," said Mr. Smith.

  "Nonsense, Mr. Smith, why you're a greater goose than I supposed!"

  Mr. Smith assented by a meek bow.

  Dinner was now announced. The gentlemen conducted the ladies, and AuntQuimby led Mr. Smith; but she could not prevail on him to take a seatbeside her, near the head of the table, and directly opposite to theBaron and his party. He humbly insisted on finding a place for himselfvery low down, and seemed glad to get into the neighbourhood of CaptainCheston, who presided at the foot.

  The Blake Bentley party all levelled their glasses at Aunt Quimby; butthe old lady stood fire amazingly well, being busily engaged inpreparing her silk g
own against the chance of injury from any possibleaccident, tucking a napkin into her belt, pinning a pocket handkerchiefacross the body of her dress, turning up her cuffs, and tying back thestrings of her cap to save the ribbon from grease-spots.

  The dinner was profuse, excellent, and handsomely arranged: and for awhile most of the company were too earnestly occupied in satisfyingtheir appetites to engage much in conversation. Aunt Quimby sent awaiter to Captain Cheston to desire him to take care of poor Mr. Smith:which message the waiter thought it unnecessary to deliver.

  Mrs. Blake Bentley and her daughter Matilda sat one on each side of theBaron, and showed rather more assiduity in helping him than is customaryfrom ladies to gentlemen. Also their solicitude in anticipating hiswants was a work of super-erogation, for the Baron could evidently takeexcellent care of himself, and was unremitting in his applications toevery one round him for everything within their reach, and loud andincessant in his calls to the waiters for clean plates and cleanglasses.

  When the dessert was set on, and the flow of soul was succeeding to thefeast which, whether of reason or not, had been duly honoured, Mrs.Quimby found leisure to look round, and resume her colloquy.

  "I believe, madam, your name is Bentley," said she to the lofty lookingpersonage directly opposite.

  "I am Mrs. Blake Bentley," was the reply, with an imperious stare thatwas intended to frown down all further attempts at conversation. ButAunt Quimby did not comprehend repulsion, and had never been silenced inher life--so she proceeded--

  "I remember your husband very well. He was a son of old Benny Bentley upSecond street, that used to keep the sign of the Adam and Eve, butafterwards changed it to the Liberty Tree. His wife was a Blake--thatwas the way your husband came by his name. Her father was anupholsterer, and she worked at the trade before she was married. Shemade two bolsters and three pillows for me at different times; thoughI'm not quite sure it was not two pillows and three bolsters. He had abrother, Billy Blake, that was a painter: so he must have been yourhusband's uncle."

  "Excuse me," said Mrs. Blake Bentley, "I don't understand what you aretalking about. But I'm very sure there were never any artist people inthe family."

  "Oh! Billy Blake was a painter and glazier both," resumed Mrs. Quimby;"I remember him as well as if he was my own brother. We always sent forhim to mend our broken windows. I can see him now--coming with his glassbox and his putty. Poor fellow, he was employed to put a new coat ofpaint on Christ Church steeple, which we thought would be a good job forhim: but the scaffold gave way and he fell down and broke his leg. Welived right opposite, and saw him tumble. It's a mercy he wasn't killedright out. He was carried home on a hand-barrow. I remember theafternoon as well as if it were yesterday. We had a pot-pie for dinnerthat day; and I happened to have on a new calico gown, a green groundwith a yellow sprig in it. I have some of the pieces now in patch-work."

  Mrs. Blake Bentley gave Mrs. Quimby a look of unqualified disdain, andthen turning to the baron, whispered him to say something that mightstop the mouth of that abominable old woman. And by way of beginning sheobserved aloud, "Baron, what very fine plums these are!"

  "Yes," said the baron, helping himself to them profusely, "and aproposto plums--one day when I happened to be dining with the king of Prussia,there were some very fine peaches at table (we were sitting, you know,trifling, over the dessert), and the king said to me, 'Klingenberg, mydear fellow, let's try which of us can first break that largelooking-glass by shooting a peach-stone at it.'"

  "Dear me! what a king!" interrupted Mrs. Quimby, "and now I look at youagain, sir (there, just now, with your head turned to the light),there's something in your face that puts me in mind of Jacob Stimbel,our Dutch young man that used to live with us and help to do the work.Mr. Quimby bought him at the wharf out of a redemptioner ship. He was toserve us three years: but before his time was up be ran away (as theyoften do) and went to Lancaster, and set up his old trade of acarpenter, and married a bricklayer's daughter, and got rich and builthouses, and had three or four sons--I think I heard that one of themturned out a pretty bad fellow. I can see Jake Stimbel now, carrying themarket-basket after me, or scrubbing the pavement. Whenever I look atyou I think of him; may be he was some relation of yours, as you bothcame from Germany?"

  "A relation of mine, madam!" said the Baron.

  "There now--there's Jake Stimbel to the life. He had just that way ofstretching up his eyes and drawing down his mouth when he did not knowwhat to say, which was usually the case after he stayed on errands."

  The baron contracted his brows, and bit in his lips.

  "Fix your face as you will," continued Mrs. Quimby, "you are as like himas you can look. I am sure I ought to remember Jacob Stimbel, for I hadall the trouble of teaching him to do his work, besides learning him totalk American; and as soon as he had learnt, he cleared himself off, asI told you, and ran away from us."

  The baron now turned to Matilda Bentley, and endeavoured to engage herattention by an earnest conversation in an under tone; and Mrs. Bentleylooked daggers at Aunt Quimby, who said in a low voice to a lady thatsat next to her, "What a pity Mrs. Bentley has such a violent way withher eyes. She'd be a handsome woman if it was not for that."

  Then resuming her former tone, the impenetrable old lady continued,"Some of these Dutch people that came over German redemptioners, andwere sold out of ships, have made great fortunes." And then turning to alady who sat on the other side, she proceeded to enumerate variouswealthy and respectable German families whose grandfathers andgrandmothers had been sold out of ships. Bromley Cheston, perceivingthat several of the company were wincing under this infliction, proposeda song from one of the young officers whom he knew to be an accomplishedvocalist. This song was succeeded by several others, and during thesinging the Blake Bentley party gradually slipped away from the table.

  After dinner the company withdrew and dispersed themselves among thetrees, while the servants, &c., were dining. Mrs. Cheston vainly did herutmost to prevail on Aunt Quimby to go to the house and take a _siesta_."What for?" said Mrs. Quimby, "why should I go to sleep when I ain't abit sleepy. I never was wider awake in my life. No, no--these partiesdon't come every day; and I'll make the most of this now I have had thegood luck to be at it. But, bless me! now I think of it, I have not laideyes on Mr. Smith these two hours--I hope he is not lost. When did heleave the table? Who saw him go? He's not used to being in the woods,poor man!"

  The sound of the tambourine now denoted the approach of the musicians,and the company adjourned to the dancing ground, which was a wideopening in the woods shaded all round with fine trees, under whichbenches had been placed. For the orchestra a little wooden gallery hadbeen erected about eight feet from the ground, running round the trunkand amid the spreading boughs of an immense hickory.

  The dancers had just taken their places for the first set, when theywere startled by the shrieks of a woman, which seemed to ascend from theriver-beach below. The gentlemen and many of the ladies ran to the edgeof the bank to ascertain the cause, and Aunt Quimby, looking down amongthe first, exclaimed, "Oh! mercy! if there isn't Mr. Smith a collaringthe baron, and Miss Matilda a screaming for dear life!"

  "The baron collaring Mr. Smith, you mean," said Myrtilla, approachingthe bank.

  "No, no--I mean as I say. Why who'd think it was in Mr. Smith to do sucha thing! Oh! see, only look how he shakes him. And now he gives him akick, only think of doing all that to a baron! but I dare say hedeserves it. He looks more like Jake Stimbel than ever."

  Captain Cheston sprung down the bank (most of the other gentlemenrunning after him), and immediately reaching the scene of action rescuedthe foreigner, who seemed too frightened to oppose any effectualresistance to his assailant.

  "Mr. Smith," said Captain Cheston, "what is the meaning of thisoutrage,--and in the presence of a lady, too!"

  "The lady must excuse me," replied Mr. Smith, "for it is in her behalf Ihave thus forgotten myself so far as to chastise on the spot acontemptible villai
n. Let us convey Miss Bentley up the bank, for sheseems greatly agitated, and I will then explain to the gentlemen theextraordinary scene they have just witnessed."

  "Only hear Mr. Smith, how he's talking out!" exclaimed Aunt Quimby. "Andthere's the baron-fellow putting up his coat collar and sneaking offround the corner of the bank. I'm so glad he's turned out a scamp!"

  Having reached the top of the bank, Matilda Bentley, who had nearlyfainted, was laid on a bench and consigned to the care of her mother andsisters. A flood of tears came to her relief, and while she wasindulging in them, Mrs. Bentley joined the group who were assembledround Mr. Smith and listening to his narrative.

  Mr. Smith explained that he knew this _soi-disant_ Baron Von Klingenbergto be an impostor and a swindler. That he had, some years since, underanother name, made his appearance in Paris, as an American gentleman ofGerman origin, and large fortune; but soon gambled away all his money.That he afterwards, under different appellations, visited the principalcities of the continent, but always left behind the reputation of aswindler. That he had seen him last in London, in the capacity of valetto the real Baron Von Klingenberg, who, intending a visit to the UnitedStates, had hired him as being a native of America, and familiar withthe country and its customs. But an unforeseen circumstance havinginduced that gentleman to relinquish this transatlantic voyage, hisAmerican valet robbed him of a large sum of money and some valuablejewels, stole also the letters of introduction which had been obtainedby the real Baron, and with them had evidently been enabled to passhimself for his master. To this explanation, Mr. Smith added that whilewandering among the trees on the edge of the bank, he had seen theimpostor on the beach below, endeavouring to persuade Miss Bentley to anelopement with him; proposing that they should repair immediately to aplace in the neighbourhood, where the railroad cars stopped on their wayto New York, and from thence proceed to that city, adding,--"You knowthere is no overtaking a railroad car, so all pursuit of us will be invain; besides, when once married all will be safe, as you are of age andmistress of your own fortune." "Finding," continued Mr. Smith, "that hewas likely to succeed in persuading Miss Bentley to accompany him, Icould no longer restrain my indignation, which prompted me to rush downthe bank and adopt summary measures in rescuing the young lady from thehands of so infamous a scoundrel, whom nothing but my unwillingness todisturb the company prevented me from exposing as soon as I saw him."

  "Don't believe him," screamed Mrs. Blake Bentley; "Mr. Smith indeed! Whois to take _his_ word? Who knows what Mr. Smith is?"

  "I do," said a voice from the crowd; and there stepped forward agentlemen, who had arrived in a chaise with a friend about half an hourbefore. "I had the pleasure of knowing him intimately in England, when Iwas minister to the court of St. James's."

  "May be you bought your tins at his shop," said Aunt Quimby.

  The ex-ambassador in a low voice exchanged a few words with Mr. Smith;and then taking his hand, presented him as the Earl of Huntingford,adding, "The only tin he deals in is that produced by his extensivemines in Cornwall."

  The whole company were amazed into a silence of some moments: afterwhich there was a general buzz of favourable remark; Captain Chestonshook hands with him, and all the gentlemen pressed forward to be moreparticularly introduced to Lord Huntingford.

  "Dear me!" said Aunt Quimby; "to think that I should have been sosociable with a lord--and a real one too--and to think how he drank teaat Billy Fairfowl's in the back parlour, and ate bread and butter justlike any other man--and how he saved Jane, and picked up Johnny--Isuppose I must not speak to you now, Mr. Smith, for I don't know how tobegin calling you my lord. And you don't seem like the same man, nowthat you can look and talk like other people: and (excuse my saying so)even your dress looks genteeler."

  "Call me still Mr. Smith, if you choose," replied Lord Huntingford; and,turning to Captain Cheston, he continued--"Under that name I have hadopportunities of obtaining much knowledge of your _unique_ andinteresting country:--knowledge that will be useful to me all theremainder of my life, and that I could not so well have acquired in myreal character."

  He then explained, that being tired of travelling in Europe, and havingan earnest desire to see America thoroughly, and more particularly tobecome acquainted with the state of society among the middle classes(always the truest samples of national character), he had, on taking hispassage in one of the Liverpool packets, given his name as Smith, andput on the appearance of a man in very common life, resolving topreserve his incognito as long as he could. His object being to observeand to listen, and fearing that if he talked much he might inadvertentlybetray himself, he endeavoured to acquire a habit of taciturnity. As isfrequently the case, he rather overdid his assumed character: and wasmuch amused at perceiving himself rated somewhat below mediocrity, andregarded as poor Mr. Smith.

  "But where is that Baron fellow?" said Mrs. Quimby; "I dare say he hassneaked off and taken the railroad himself, while we were all busy aboutLord Smith."

  "He has--he has!" sobbed Miss Bentley; who in spite of her grief andmortification, had joined the group that surrounded the Englishnobleman; "and he has run away with my beautiful diamond ring."

  "Did he steal it from your finger?" asked Aunt Quimby, eagerly; "becauseif he did, you can send a constable after him."

  "I shall do no such thing," replied Matilda, tartly; then turning to hermother she added, "It was when we first went to walk by the river side.He took my hand and kissed it, and proposed exchanging rings--and so Ilet him have it--and he said he did not happen to have any ring of hisown about him, but he would give me a magnificent one that had beenpresented to him by some emperor or king."

  "Now I think of it," exclaimed Mrs. Bentley, "he never gave me back mygold essence-bottle with the emerald stopper."

  "Now I remember," said Miss Turretville, "he did not return me thebeautiful fan he took out of my hand the other evening at Mrs. DeMingle's. And I doubt also if he restored her diamond opera glass to thePrincess of Saxe Blinkinberg."

  "The Princess of Saxe Fiddlestick!" exclaimed Aunt Quimby; "do yousuppose he ever really had anything to do with such people? Betweenourselves, I thought it was all fudge the whole time he was trying tomake us believe he was hand and glove with women that had crowns ontheir heads, and men with diamond coats, and kings that shot peachstones. The more he talked, the more he looked like Jacob Stimbel--I'mnot apt to forget people, so it would be strange if I did not rememberour Jake; and I never saw a greater likeness."

  "Well, for my part," said Miss Turretville, candidly, "I really _did_think he had serfs, and a castle with ramparts, and I did believe in thebanditti, and the captain just like Charles De Moor. And I grieved, as Ioften do, that here, in America, we had no such things."

  "Pity we should!" remarked Aunt Quimby.

  To be brief: the Bentleys, after what had passed, thought it best toorder their carriage and return to the city: and on their ride homethere was much recrimination between the lady and her eldest daughter;Matilda declaring, that she would never have thought of encouraging theaddresses of such an ugly fellow as the baron, had not her mother firstput it into her head. And as to the projected elopement, she felt verycertain of being forgiven for that as soon as she came out a baroness.

  After the departure of the Bentleys, and when the excitement, caused bythe events immediately preceding it, had somewhat subsided, it wasproposed that the dancing should be resumed, and Lord Huntingford openedthe ball with Mrs. Cheston, and proved that he could dance, and talk,and look extremely well. As soon as she was disengaged, he solicitedMyrtilla's hand for the nest set, and she smilingly assented to hisrequest. Before they began, Aunt Quimby took an opportunity of saying toher: "Well, Myrtilla; after all you are going to exhibit yourself, asyou call it, with Mr. Smith."

  "Oh! Aunt Quimby, you must not remember anything that was said about himwhile he was incog--"

  "Yes, and now he's out of cog it's thought quite an honour to get a wordor a look from him. Well--well--whether as
poor simple Mr. Smith, or agreat lord that owns whole tin mines, he'll always find _me_ exactly thesame; now I've got over the first flurry of his being found out."

  "I have no doubt of that, Aunt Quimby," replied Myrtilla, giving herhand to Lord Huntingford, who just then came up to lead her to thedance.

  The afternoon passed rapidly away, with infinite enjoyment to the wholecompany; all of whom seemed to feel relieved by the absence of the BlakeBentley party. Aunt Quimby was very assiduous in volunteering tointroduce ladies to Lord Smith, as she called him, and chaperoned himmore than ever.

  The Chestons, perfectly aware that if Mrs. Quimby returned toPhiladelphia, and proceeded to Baltimore under the escort of Mr. Smith,she would publish all along the road that he was a lord, and perhapsconvert into annoyance the amusement he seemed to find in her entirewant of tact, persuaded her to defer the Baltimore journey and pass afew days with them; promising to provide her with an escort there, inthe person of an old gentleman of their neighbourhood, who was going tothe south early next week; and whom they knew to be one of the mildestmen in the world, and never incommoded by anything.

  When the fete was over, Lord Huntingford returned to the city with hisfriend, the ex-minister. At parting, he warmly expressed his delight athaving had an opportunity of becoming acquainted with Captain Chestonand his ladies; and Aunt Quimby exclaimed, "It's all owing to me--if ithad not been for me you might never have known them; I always had thecharacter of bringing good luck to people: so it's no wonder I'm sowelcome everywhere."

  On Captain Cheston's next visit to Philadelphia, he gathered that thefictitious Baron Von Klingenberg was really the reprobate son of JacobStimbel of Lancaster, and had been recognised as such by a gentlemanfrom that place. That he had many years before gone to seek his fortunein Europe, with the wreck of some property left him by his father; where(as Lord Huntingford had stated) he had last been seen in London in thecapacity of a valet to a German nobleman; and that now he had departedfor the west, with the design, as was supposed, of gambling his way toNew Orleans. Nothing could exceed the delight of Aunt Quimby on findingher impression of him so well corroborated.

  The old lady went to Baltimore, and found herself so happy with her dearcrony Mrs. Bagnell, that she concluded to take up her permanentresidence with her on the same terms on which she lived at herson-in-law Billy Fairfowl's, whose large family of children had, to saythe truth, latterly caused her some inconvenience by their number andtheir noise; particularly as one of the girls was growing up so like hergrandmother, as to out-talk her. Aunt Quimby's removal from Philadelphiato Baltimore was, of course, a sensible relief to the Chestons.

  Lord Huntingford (relinquishing the name and character of Mr. Smith)devoted two years to making the tour of the United States, including avisit to Canada; justly believing that he could not in less timeaccomplish his object of becoming _well_ acquainted with the country andthe people. On his return through the Atlantic cities, he met withCaptain Cheston at Norfolk, where he had just brought in his ship from acruise in the Pacific. Both gentlemen were glad to renew theiracquaintance; and they travelled together to Philadelphia, where theyfound Mrs. Cheston and Myrtilla waiting to meet the captain.

  Lord Huntingford became a constant visitor at the house of the Chestons.He found Myrtilla improved in beauty, and as he thought in everythingelse, and he felt that in all his travels through Europe and America,he had met with no woman so well calculated to insure his happiness inmarried life. The sister of Captain Cheston was too good a republican tomarry a foreigner and a nobleman, merely on account of his rank andtitle: but Lord Huntingford, as a man of sense, feeling, and unblemishedmorality, was one of the best specimens of his class, and after anintimate acquaintance of two months, she consented to become hiscountess. They were married a few days before their departure forEngland, where Captain and Mrs. Cheston promised to make them a visitthe ensuing spring.

  Emily Atwood and Mr. Symmington were bridesmaid and groomsman, and werethemselves united the following month. Miss Turretville made a veryadvantageous match, and has settled down into a rational woman and afirst-rate housewife. The Miss Bentleys are all single yet; but theirmother is married to an Italian singer, who is dissipating her propertyas fast as he can, and treating her ill all the time.

  While in Philadelphia, Lord Huntingford did not forget to visitoccasionally his early acquaintance, Mr. William Fairfowl (who alwaysreceived him as if he was still Mr. Smith), and on leaving the city hepresented an elegant little souvenir to Mrs. Fairfowl, and one to eachof her daughters.

  At Lord Huntingford's desire, Mrs. Quimby was invited from Baltimore tobe present at his wedding (though the company was small and select), andshe did honour to the occasion by wearing an entirely new gown and cap,telling the cost of them to every person in the room, but declaring shedid not grudge it in the least; and assuming to herself the entirecredit of the match, which she averred never would have taken place ifshe had not happened to come up the river, instead of going down.

  The events connected with the picnic day, had certainly one singulareffect on Aunt Quimby, who from that time protested that she alwaysthought of a nobleman whenever she heard the name of Smith.

  Could all our readers give in their experience of the numerous Smithsthey must have known and heard of, would not many be found who, thoughbearing that trite appellation, were noblemen of nature's own making?