University of Virginia Library

2. CHAPTER II.

On the following morning, Fennimore rose early, and
sallied forth, but found that he had been preceded by
Major Heyward, who was bustling about, without his
hat or coat, in the sharp morning air, giving orders to
his servants. The cloud of the last evening had passed
from his brow; the reflections of his pillow had been
salutary; and he now met his guest, with his usual
cheerfulness of countenance, and kindness of manner.
“Mr. Fennimore,” said he, “I did not receive you, perhaps,
as I ought, and I ask your pardon. I must be
frank with you, for I cannot be otherwise. Things
have passed between our families which I have not been
able to forget. But the ways of Providence are always
wise; it was necessary for my peace that you should
come here. I am too old to cherish an unsettled feud.
Let the past be buried. We are friends.”

“I know so little of the particulars of the affair to
which you allude,” replied Fennimore, “that I can say
nothing, except that I desire to stand in no other relation
to Major Heyward, than that of a friend. I had
not thought of introducing that subject. My business
relates to a pecuniary transaction—”

“Well, we'll talk of that another time. Any time
will do for business. We can settle that in five minutes.
There is to be a barbecue to-day, Mr. Fennimore; we
are all going—you must go with us.”

In vain did Fennimore plead that his engagements

required his attention elsewhere—that he had no time
for parties of pleasure—that he had no taste for such
amusements, &c.

“No taste for a barbecue!” exclaimed Major Heyward.
“You surprise me, Mr. Fennimore; no taste
for a barbecue! Well, that shows you were not raised
in Virginia. Time you should see a little of the world,
sir; there's nothing in life equal to a barbecue, properly
managed—a good old Virginia barbecue. Sir, I would
not have you to miss it for the best horse on my plantation!”

“Talking of horses,” continued the cheerful old man,
“reminds me that I can show you a sight worth seeing;”
and without waiting for a reply, he led his guest
to his stables, where the grooms were feeding and rubbing
down a number of beautiful blooded animals.
These were successively paraded, and the proud owner
descanted upon the merits of each, with a volubility that
excluded every other subject, until breakfast was announced.

“Has Mr. Fennimore consented to join our party to-day?”
inquired Miss Pendleton, after they were seated
at the breakfast-table.

“Certainly, my dear,” replied the Major; “Mr. Fennimore
would be doing injustice to us, and to himself, if
he did not improve such an opportunity of witnessing a
festivity peculiar to our State. I am sure he would not
be deprived of it upon any consideration.”

“I cannot resist the temptation,” said Fennimore,
with a bow which Miss Pendleton took to herself, while
her uncle received it as a tribute to his favorite amusement;

and after a hasty meal, the parties separated to
prepare for the excursion.

The horses were soon at the door, and the party proceeded,
attended by several servants, to the place of
meeting. It was a gay and beautiful morning. They
passed over a high mountainous ridge, by a winding
and rugged path, which at some places seemed impracticable;
but the horses, accustomed to these acclivities,
stept cautiously from rock to rock, or nimbly leaped the
narrow ravines that crossed the road, while the riders
scarcely suffered any inconvenience from the irregularities
of the surface. Sometimes the path led along
the edge of a precipice, and they paused to look down
upon the broad-spread valleys, that lay extended in beautiful
landscape before them. The song of the mocking-bird
arrested their attention, as he sate among the
branches of a tall tree, pouring forth his miscellaneous
and voluble notes, imitating successfully all the song-sters
of the grove, and displaying a fullness, strength,
and richness of voice, which often astonishes even those
who are accustomed to his melody. Upon reaching the
highest elevation of the ridge, they wound along its
level surface, by a path well beaten and beautifully
smooth, but so seldom travelled as to be covered with a
growth of short grass. Its width was sufficient only to
admit the passage of a single horseman, and its course
so winding that the foremost rider was often concealed
from the view of the last of the train. Dense thickets
grew on either hand, and the branches of the trees
interlocking above the riders' heads, formed a thick
canopy, giving to this romantic path the appearance of

a narrow, serpentine archway, carved with art out of
the tangled forest. Virginia, when she reached this
elevated plain, seemed to feel as if in fairy land, and,
loosening her rein, bounded away with the lightness of
a bird, gracefully bending as she passed under the low
boughs, gliding round the short angles, and leaping her
beautiful steed over the logs that sometimes lay in the
way. Fennimore galloped after, admiring her skill, and
equally elated by the inspiring scene; while Major Heyward,
who thought it undignified to ride out of a walk,
at any time except when following the hounds, followed
at his leisure, wondering at the levity of the young
people, which made them forget their gentility and ride
like dragoons or hired messengers.

Suddenly the path seemed to end at the brink of a
tall cliff, and far below them they beheld the majestic
Potomac, meandering through its deep valleys, and apparently
forcing its way among piles of mountains. The
charms of mountain scenery were enhanced by the endless
variety of the rich and gorgeous, the placid and
beautiful, the grand and terrific, that were here embraced
in one view. At one place the tall naked rock
rose in perpendicular cliffs to an immense height, terminating
in bare spiral peaks; at another, the rounded
elevations were covered with pines, cedars, and laurel,
always indicating a sterile soil, and a cold exposure.
The mountain sides were clothed with verdure, in all
the intervals between the parapets of rock; and the
clear streams of water that fell from ledge to ledge, enlivened
the prospect. Far below, the rich valley spread
out its broad bosom, studded with the noblest trees of

the forest, the majestic tulip-tree, the elegant locust, the
gum, the sugar-maple, the broad spreading oak, and the
hickory. The numberless flowering trees were in full
bloom, and their odors filled the air with a rich perfume.
The river, with its clear blue waters, was full of attraction,
sometimes dashing round rocky points of the
mountain, and sometimes flowing calmly through the
valley; at one point placidly reposing in a wide basin,
at another, rushing over a rocky ledge whitened with
foam.

“How beautiful!” exclaimed Virginia, as she reined
up her horse, and gazed, with a delighted eye, over the
wide-spread landscape.

“How exquisitely beautiful!” re-echoed Fennimore,
as his admiring glance rested on the form of his lovely
companion. Her deer-like animal, smoking with heat,
and just sufficiently excited by exercise to bring every
muscle into full action, to expand his nostrils and swell
his veins—his fine neck arched, his head raised, his
delicate ear thrown forward, and his clear eye sparkling,
stood on the very edge of the cliff. The light figure of
Virginia was rendered more graceful by an elegant
riding-dress, closely fitted to her person, and extending
below her feet. She sat with the ease of a practised
rider. But her chief attraction, at this moment, was the
animated expression of her features. Her bonnet was
pushed back from her fine forehead, her eye lighted up
with pleasure, her cheek flushed and dimpled, her lips
unclosed; and as she extended her whip in the direction
indicated by her glance, Fennimore realized the

most exquisite dreams, that his fancy had ever formed,
of female loveliness.

She turned towards her companion, as his expression
of admiration met her ear, blushed deeply when she discovered
that his impassioned glance was directed towards
herself, and then, with a little dash of modest coquetry,
which is quite natural in a pretty woman of
eighteen, laughed, and resumed her descriptions. But
her tones softened, and her conversation, without losing
its sprightliness, assumed the richness and vividness of
poetry, from an involuntary consciousness that all the
young and joyous feelings of her heart were responded
in kindred emotions from that of her companion.

In a few minutes they were joined by Major Heyward,
and the whole party descended the mountain by a
precipitous path, which led to a part of the valley bordering
on the Potomac.

Arrived at the place of rendezvous, a novel and enchanting
scene was presented to the eye of our stranger.
A level spot on the shore of the river, had been divested
of all its bushes and trees, except a few large poplars,
which were left for shade, whose huge trunks had risen
to a majestic height, while their spreading branches interlocked,
so as to form a canopy impervious to the sun-beams.
Having been the scene of these festivities for
many years, the ground was trodden hard, and covered
with a thick sward of short grass. On three sides the forest
was seen in its native wildness, tangled and luxuriant
as it came from the hand of nature; on the other flowed
the river. At the back part of the area, was a fountain
of limpid water—the Virginians always congregate

around a cool spring—issuing from the rock, and filling a
large basin, which served as a wine-cooler, and in which
a few trout, kept with great care, sported their graceful
forms.

The company began to assemble at an early hour; a
gay and miscellaneous assemblage, somewhat aristocratic,
but by no means exclusive. It was all of the class of
freeholders, but included every variety of that class.
Some were members of ancient families, well educated,
polished and wealthy, proud of their birth and of their
estates, simple and hospitable, though somewhat stately,
in their manners. Some were decayed gentry, a little
prouder than the nature of the case seemed to require,
in consequence of their poverty; and others were plain
farmers and their families, stout built, well fed, well clad
—an intelligent and independent race, who lived on their
own farms, and justly considered themselves the peers
of the best in the land. In the whole circle there was
much of the sturdiness and simplicity of an agricultural
people, together with a degree of polish not often found
among mere farmers, and resulting here from the hospitable
customs of the country, which induced a continual
round of social intercourse, and from the fact that the
land proprietors, being the owners of servants, had leisure
to cultivate their minds, and visit their neighbors.
Among them were many gentlemen of liberal education,
some professional men of high attainments, and men in
public life, or of large fortunes, who, spending a portion
of every year in large cities, had acquired all the elegance
of manners, and cultivation of intellect, which is
found in the best circles. One peculiarity which usually

marks a fashionable, or, more properly speaking, an
exclusive society, was wanting here, namely, that uniformity
in dress, in manners, in thought, and in phraseology,
which results from a servile obedience to the
canons of fashion—that dismal monotony of taste which
forces every gentleman to furnish his house after a prescribed
model, and a whole community to dress as much
alike as a body of soldiers in regimentals; reminding
one of Pope's description of a garden, where,

This neighborhood being secluded, and distant from
the sea-board, fashions, coming with a tardy step and
from different quarters, were partially adopted, and
never generally acquiesced in, nor carried to excess.
Manufactures of every kind were at that time at a low
ebb, and mechanics were not to be found in country
neighborhoods. The southern people, too, are habitually
indolent, and while they often exhibit on the one hand
great fondness for show, as often betray on the other
the most absolute carelessness for appearances; an apparent
contradiction which arises from the fact that
though lavish in the expenditure of money, they will
not endure any personal labor, or discomfort, in the
purchase of luxury. If a splendid dress, vehicle, or
article of furniture, can be readily procured, it is eagerly
bought, without regard to the price; but if it cannot be
had, the nearest substitute is cheerfully adopted; and
they are too independent, either to value each other

on such adventitious possessions, or to mar their own
happiness by repining at the want of them. From these
various causes it arose, that while one lady was rolled
to the fete in an elegant coach, with four fat horses, and
plated harness, another of equal wealth came in a sorry
vehicle, which might have been very superb in the days
of her grandmother, but was now faded and crazy,
drawn by a pair of blooded nags, hitched to it with
tackle marvellously resembling plow-gear. An ancient
spinster, whose last will and testament was a matter
of interest with all kinsfolk, and of curiosity with the
rest of her acquaintance, rode in a sorry affair, which
had once been a creditable chaise, but was now transformed
by repeated mendings into something resembling
a hang-man's cart; having undergone the same mutations
to which our ships of war are subjected, in which
timber after timber is supplied, until none of the original
material is left; the only difference being, that in the case
of the carriage no care had been taken to preserve the
model, or to adapt the last repair to the one which had
preceded it. The horses were generally elegant—but
such a heterogeneous assortment of equipments! How
could it be otherwise? There was not a saddler within
fifty miles, and a gentleman who had the misfortune to
break a rein, or carry away a buckle, not being able to
procure a new article, must necessarily submit the old
one to a negro cobbler, or leave it to the ingenuity of his
own groom. The most usual plan was to supply the
rent with the nearest string. Thus it happened that
many of the animals were nobly caparisoned; elegant
saddles, dashing saddle-cloths, martingales, and double-reined
bridles, were abundant; but when one of these
spruce affairs had chanced to be broken, a knot or a
splice, with a thong of rein-deer skin, not unfrequently
united the several parts, while a rope or a strap of
leather was sometimes substituted for a girth. Some
gentlemen rode saddles without girths, and some rode
with blind-bridles; for among this equestrian order, any
thing that could be ridden with, or ridden upon, was
better than walking, and any thing at all was far better
than staying away from the barbecue!

However odd all this might seem at first sight, to a
stranger, there was something in it that was remarkably
pleasant—a something which showed that the most
detestable of all pride, that which estimates an individual
by his external appearance, was totally wanting.
There was a cordiality, a confidence in being kindly
received for one's own sake, which was cheering to the
heart. The girls, too, looked charmingly; and it was
marvellous to see them coming in pairs, two on a horse,
or mounted behind their fathers and brothers, laughing
and chatting, and just as happy as if they had ridden in
coaches. And then the greetings! one would have
thought that a single clan had peopled the whole neighborhood;
the stately old gentlemen as they shook hands
saluted each other as cousin Jones, cousin Lee, and cousin
Thompson, with here and there an occasional Mr.
or Sir; but the girls were all cousins, and the old ladies
were aunts to all the world—that is, to all that part of
the world which was paraded at the barbecue.

It was a gay scene: the horses hitched to the surrounding
trees, the ladies sitting in groups or parading

about, and the gentlemen preparing for the diversions of
the day. Some dispersed into the woods with their
fowling-pieces, some distributed themselves along the
rocks that overhung the river, and threw out their fishing-lines,
and others launched their canoes in the stream,
and sought the finny tribes in the eddies of the rapid current.
A few of the ladies participated in the amusement
of angling, whether to show their skill in throwing
out a bait, or to prove that they possessed the virtue
of patience, is not known; but it is certain that they
broke quite as many rods and lines as hearts.