 | CHAPTER VI. Elinor Wyllys, or, The young folk of Longbridge |  |
8. CHAPTER VI.
“Her dress, and novels, visits, and success.”
Crabbe.
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,
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,
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 in 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.
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
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 girls.
“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.
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.' ”
“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 dresser.”
“Emmeline is going over the Court Calendar, for you,
already,” said Mrs. Hilson, laughing fashionably.
“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.' ”
“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 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 friends.”
“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.”
“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 house-keeping,
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 yon 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
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 coïffure.
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
dining with us?”
“Yes, I do remember them; one Charles Hubbard called
Uncle Josey, 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 capital.' ”
“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 specimen.”
“And where did these ladies contrive to pick up so much
absurdity?”
“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 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
Hâvre, 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 “Harry!”
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.
| CHAPTER VI. Elinor Wyllys, or, The young folk of Longbridge | |