 | CHAPTER IV.
A COUNTRY GATHERING. Swallow Barn, or A sojourn in the Old Dominion |  |
4. CHAPTER IV.
A COUNTRY GATHERING.
The day that followed our adventure in the Goblin
Swamp, was one of more bustling pursuits than
those described in the last chapter. It was distinguished
by its active preparations for the dinner party
at Swallow Barn.
Sometime before breakfast a servant waited at
the front door for Hazard's orders: this was a negro
boy, not quite full grown, who, without jacket or
shoes, but tricked out in a hat with a yellow ribbon
for a band, and set a little to one side on his head,
was mounted, bare-backed, upon a tall, full-blooded
horse, just ready to start, when Hazard came to instruct
him in the purpose of his errand.
“Ganymede,” said Ned, “you will go to the
Court House, and give my compliments —”
“Yes, sir,” said the messenger, with a joyful countenance.
—“To Mister Toll Hedges and the doctor, and tell
them that we expect some friends here at dinner today.”
“Yes, sir,” shouted the negro, and striking his heels
into his horse's sides at the same instant, plunged
forward some paces.
“Come back,” cried Ned; “you hair-brained fool,
what are you going after?”
“To ax Mas Toll Hedges and the doctor to come
here to dinner to-day,” returned the impatient boy.
“Wait until you hear what I have to tell you,”
continued Ned. “Say to them that your Master
Frank will be glad to see them; and that I wish
them to bring any body along with them they
choose.”
“That's all!” exclaimed the negro again, and
once more bounded off towards the high road.
“You black rascal!” cried Ned at the top of his
voice, and laughing, “come back again. You are in
a monstrous hurry. I wish you would show something
of this activity when it is more wanting. Now, hear
me out. Tell them, if they see the 'squire, to bring
him along.”
“Yes, sir.”
“And as you pass by Mr. Braxton Beverly's,
stop there, and ask him if he will favour us with his
company. And if he cannot come himself, tell him
to send us some of the family. Tell him to send them,
at any rate. Let me see; is there any body else? If
you meet any of the gentlemen about, give them my
compliments, and tell them to come over.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Now can you remember it all?”
“Never fear me, Mas Ned,” said the negro, with
his low-country, broad pronunciation, that entirely
discards the letter R.
“Then be off,” cried Hazard, “and let me hear of
no loitering on the road.”
“That's me!” shouted Ganymede, in the same tone
of excessive spirits that he evinced on his first appearance.
this, the negro flourished his hand above his head,
struck his heels again on the horse's ribs, hallooed
with a wild scream, and shot forward like an arrow
from a bow.
Soon after breakfast the visiters from the Brakes
began to appear. First came Prudence Meriwether
with Catharine, in Mr. Tracy's carriage. About an
hour afterwards, Swansdown's glittering curricle arrived,
bringing Bel Tracy under the convoy of the
gentleman himself. After another interval, Harvey
Riggs and Ralph followed on horseback. Mr. Tracy
had not accompanied either of these parties; but
Harvey brought an assurance from him that he would
be punctual to the engagement.
A dinner party in the country is not that premeditated,
anxious affair that it is in town. It has nothing
of that long, awful interval between the arrival of
the guests and the serving up of the dishes, when men
look in each other's faces with empty stomachs, and
utter inane common-places with an obvious air of insincerity,
if not of actual suffering. On the contrary,
it is understood to be a regular spending of the day, in
which the guests assume all the privileges of inmates,
sleep on the sofas, lounge through the halls, read the
newspapers, stroll over the grounds, and, if pinched
by appetite, stay their stomachs with bread and butter,
and toddy made of choice old spirits.
There were several hours yet to be passed before
dinner time. Our company, therefore, began to betake
themselves to such occupations as best sorted
with their idle humours. Harvey Riggs had already
of the interview between Prudence and Catharine,
and our curiosity had been accordingly aroused to
see in what way the two damsels intended to pursue
the measures which both had voted necessary in
their emergency. An occasion now occurred to put
them in practice. Prudence was seated at the piano
strumming a tune; Swansdown was in the courtyard,
looking through the open window, with a flower
in his hand regaling his nose, and listening to the
strains, the syren strains, that fell from his fair enemy.
Presently the piano ceased, the maiden turned
carelessly towards the window. Swansdown put on
a winning smile, said some unheard, gallant thing,
and presented the nosegay to the lady. She smelt
it, and sat down at that very window. This position
brought her ear right opposite the gentleman's lips.
It is pretty obvious what must follow, when a cavalier
has such an advantage over even an angry dame.
Soon Prudence was observed to smile; and, straightway,
the conference became soft and low, accompanied
with earnest, sentimental looks, and ever and
anon relieved by a fluttering, short, ambiguous, and
somewhat breathless laugh. It was plain, Prudence
was enforcing her tactics. She was heaping coals of
fire upon the head of the luckless swain. In truth,
if she yet nursed her wrath, it seemed to have grown
monstrous charitable. Perhaps she relented in her
stern purpose, and gave way to the gentler emotions
of pity, in the hope of converting the sinner. Perhaps
she had tempered her censure of man's obliquities,
by the spontaneous and irresistible overflow of
in a mistake. Whatever was the truth, her
present purpose, motive and action certainly seemed
to me marvellously inexplicable.
Whilst this private interview was going on, the
members of the household passed freely along the
hall. A drawing would show my reader how one
might have looked thence into the parlour, and seen
the position of the speakers; and how from the little
porch where Harvey and I were seated, we could
discern Swansdown through a screen of rose bushes,
as he stood with his head rather inside of the casement.
But, for want of a good map or sketch of
the premises, these things must be conceived. At
length Catharine, who till now had been engaged
with other cares, and who had, I presume, supposed
that the war against the perfidious poet, philosopher,
and future pillar of the state was to be one of extermination,
came flaunting along the hall, carolling a
gay tune, and wearing an outside of unaccustomed
levity. When she arrived opposite the parlour door,
the same phenomenon that had put us at fault seemed
all at once to strike her. An emotion of surprise was
visible upon her countenance. She passed, went
back, looked into the parlour, hesitated, returned
towards the front door, stood still a moment in a fit
of abstraction, wheeled round, and finally entered
the room with a face all smoothness and pleasure.
Her plans were concerted during these motions.
Her accost was playful, loud, and even unusually
gracious; and from that moment the trio fell into an
easy, voluble and pleasant discourse, in which the
listening to each other, for a good half hour.
“That's strange!” said Harvey, looking at me
with a face full of wonder.
“You have misrepresented them, Harvey,” said I.
“Not a jot; for Bel has had the whole detailed
to her, not exactly in the words I have given you,
but in substance, from each of them separately this
morning. They have both, in turn, confided to her
the conversation of last night; and, like a good
secret-keeper, she has told it all to me,—knowing
my anxiety in the matter,—but with a strict injunction
that it was to go no further. And so I, in order
that I may have a witness to my fidelity, have told
it all to you, who of course will understand it as
confidential, and not permit a word of it to escape
your lips. There you have the whole pedigree of the
secret, and you see that I am as close as a woman.
In the detail, I have not in any degree impaired the
excellence of the story, I assure you.”
“Then the wind blows from another quarter today,”
said I.
“The thing is perfectly plain,” said Harvey;
“that solemn ass, Swansdown, has a greater hold
on these women than they are willing to allow to
each other. Prudence is not quite agreed to trust
Kate; and Kate is half inclined to disbelieve every
word that Prudence has told her. And both of them
think it at least very probable that there is some
mistake in the matter. So, for fear there might be a
mistake, Pru has set about making a demonstration
for herself; and Kate has taken the alarm from what
will get the whip-hand of her. In this state of things,
they have dissolved the alliance, and each one is
coquetting on her own account. It is something like
a panic against a bank, when the creditors are all
dashing in to get the preference in the payment of
their notes.”
Swansdown was at last relieved from the spirited
run that had been made upon his courtesy. The
two ladies drew off to other engagements, and the
disencumbered gentleman came round to the door
where we were sitting. It happened that Rip, a
few moments before, had been released from school,
and had walked into the parlour where Prudence
and Catharine were entertaining the poet; but, finding
them earnestly occupied, had made a circuit
round the room and out again without stopping, and
then came and seated himself on the sill of the front
door, where he remained when Swansdown joined
our party. What had previously been occupying
Rip's brain I know not, for he sat silent and abstracted;
but at last, drawing up his naked heels on
the floor, so as to bring his knees almost in contact
with his chin, and embracing his legs with his arms,
in such manner as to form a hoop round them with
his fingers interlaced, he looked up at us with a face
of some perplexity, as he broke out with the exclamation,—
“Dog them women! If they ar'nt too much!”
“Whom do you mean, Rip?” inquired Harvey.
“Aunt Pru and Catharine.”
“What have they been doing? you seem to be in
a bad humour.”
“Oh, dog 'em, I say! they won't let Mr. Swansdown
do any thing he wants: always tagging after
him. (Swansdown was a great favourite of Rip's,
principally on account of his horses.) I don't wonder
he don't like to stay with them.”
“What fault have you to find with the ladies,
Rip?” asked Swansdown, amused with the boy's
manner. “You are not angry with them on my
account, I hope?”
“Yes, I am. They're always a talking about you.
For my share, I think they must be in love with
you.”
Here Harvey laughed aloud. “What do they
say of Mr. Swansdown, Rip?”
“You needn't laugh, Mr. Riggs,” said Rip.
“Hav'nt I heard them both talking about Mr.
Swansdown? Oh, oh! I wouldn't like any body to
talk about me so!”
“I hope they said nothing ill of me, Rip?” said
Swansdown, a little confused.
“I guess they didn't,” replied Rip. “But you
had better look out, else every body will say that
you are going to get married to both of them. That
would be queer, wouldn't it?”
“But you hav'nt told us what they said,” interrupted
Harvey.
“No matter, Rip, about that,” said Swansdown.
“We must not tell tales out of school, you know.”
“Catch me!” replied Rip, “I'm not going to
tell.”
Saying these words, he jumped up and ran off to
his sports, with his natural careless and irresponsible
could be attached to any thing he had uttered.
This simple incident had a sensible influence upon
the conduct of Swansdown during the rest of the
day. He had of late been haunted by an apprehension
that he was almost ashamed to acknowledge,
namely, that it was possible his civilities both
to Prudence and Catharine might be overrated and
misconstrued. They had both flattered his vanity,
and allured him by that means into a somewhat intimate
intercourse, although it was very far from
kindling up a serious interest in his feelings. Still,
this attention was agreeable to him; and once or
twice the suspicion might have crossed his mind,
that he was permitting matters to go too far; an indiscretion
which he foresaw might produce some
unpleasant consequences. It was in this state of
doubt that he had left the ladies but a few moments
since; and it was, therefore, with something of trepidation
and alarm that he heard Rip's abrupt disclosure,
made with the boyish recklessness I have
described. Harvey Riggs saw this, and was inclined
to make advantage of it; but Rip took the caution
inculcated by Swansdown, and frustrated the object.
The most amusing feature in the whole transaction
was, that it brought about the very state of things,
by the voluntary choice of Swansdown, that Prudence
and Catharine, on their part, had resolved the
night before to compel; but which their uncertain
and distrustful policy to-day had countervailed.
Swansdown came to the sudden determination to
allay the false hopes he had raised, by assuming, for
and, as soon as the opportunity favoured, to
decamp from the field of action, and make his way
back to his native oaks, where, he hoped, his absence
would in a short time—at least in as short a
time as so sore a disease allowed—heal up the
wounds his innocent and unwary perfections had
inflicted upon the peace of two unquiet and unhappy
virgins. Full of this sentiment, he suddenly became
pensive, formal, punctilious, prosy and cold. Never
did the thermometer fall more rapidly to zero.
Whilst these things were going on, our company
continued to assemble. Two odd-looking figures
arrived on horseback at the gate, followed by our
trusty boy Ganymede, who had staid behind to accompany
the guests he had been sent to invite.
The older of the two was the doctor, a fat, short-winded
gentleman, dressed, notwithstanding the heat
of the season, all in woollen cloth. Behind his saddle
he carried a small valise, such as gentlemen of
his profession use in the country for the conveyance
of drugs and medicines. The other was our old friend
Taliaferro Hedges, considerably improved in attire,
but with his pantaloons—some white cotton fabric—
rubbed up, by the action of his horse, almost to his
knees. He wore his broad, shapeless and tattered
straw hat, that flapped over his eyes with a supreme
air of waggishness; and as he dismounted at the gate,
he deliberately disburdened his mouth of a quid of
tobacco, and walked up to the door. It was now
past one o'clock; and as it is usual in this part
at this hour of the day with an invitation to take
some of the toddy, our new comers were ushered
into a back room, where an immense bowl had been
prepared by Ned Hazard, who was there present
with Meriwether and Mr. Wart to administer it.
In the midst of the jest, clamour and laughter of
the convocation that were now assembled, admiring
and doing homage to the icy and well flavoured
bowl, other visiters were introduced, amongst the
rest Mr. Braxton Beverly, an extensive breeder of
sheep and blooded horses. He was a tall, thin,
talkative gentleman, who had an authoritative way
of besieging the person he addressed, and laying
down the heads of his discourse by striking the fingers
of his right hand upon the palm of his left, and
shaking his head somewhat as I have seen a bullying
school-boy when he was going to fight. Mr.
Chub formed a part of this group, but stood rather in
the background, with his hands tucked under the
skirts of his coat, so as to throw them out like the
tail of a bantum cock, whilst he erected his figure
even beyond the perpendicular line. For a time,
this was a busy and a gay scene, characterized by
the exhibition of that good-humoured and natural
freedom from the constraint of forms, that constitutes,
in my view of it, one of the most unequivocal features
of a genuine hospitality. The tumult gradually subsided,
as the several personages in the room retreated
towards the hall; and it was not long before the
whole party seemed to be entirely domesticated, and
had separated into as many fragments as whim or
bridge, and thence to the stable; some sat in the
shade of the porch, and discussed the topics that interested
the country; and others wandered as far as
the schoolhouse, whence might be heard an occasional
obstreperous laugh, the sudden consequence
of some well told story.
As the dinner hour drew nigh, our scattered forces
were fast concentrating upon one point. The ladies
had assembled in the drawing room; and there were
many signs that could not be mistaken, that the hour
dedicated to the imperious calls of appetite was near
at hand. Still, Mr. Tracy had not yet appeared.
Divers speculations were set on foot as to the cause
of his absence. Perhaps he had forgotten his engagement;
but that was not probable, considering
how careful he was known to be in all such matters;
and especially after the interest he had expressed
to relieve Meriwether from the sense of mortification
which he supposed his friend felt in his defeat.
He could not have lost his way; nor could
he have mistaken the hour. A general anxiety, at
length, began to prevail on the subject. Meriwether
was particularly desirous to meet his neighbour at
this moment of pacification; and the rest of the party
were curious to note the old gentleman's behaviour
at so critical a juncture.
The dinner hour had now come, and every one
was still on the lookout for our ancient guest. Most
of the gentlemen were congregated about the door,
watching every object that came in sight upon the
road leading to the gateway. At last, slowly emerging
off, where the road first occurred to view, was seen
the venerable veteran himself. He had dismounted
from his horse, and, unattended by any servant, was
walking, at a leisure pace, with his arms behind his
back, the bridle dangling from one hand, and his
horse dodging along after him, as slow as foot could
fall. Both the steed and the rider looked patiently
and pensively upon the ground. A long interval
elapsed before they reached the gate. The worthy
gentleman, all unconscious of the lateness of the
hour, or of his proximity to his point of destination,
and the impatient crowd that were gazing at him,
advanced in deep thought. The exterminated lawsuit
disturbed him. He thought sorrowfully over the
extinguished controversy. A favourite fancy had
been annihilated, untimely cropped, as a flower of
the field. He could not realize the idea. The privation
had left him no substitute. All this was plainly
read in his movements: he would travel forward
a few paces; then stop; raise his head; by a careful,
circuitous motion of his hand, he would take his handkerchief
out of his pocket, pause and adjust it in his
grasp, then, stooping forward, apply it to his nose,
and return it, with thes ame deliberation, to its place
of deposit. This operation was several times repeated,
and accompanied with looks of bewildered
abstraction. Poor gentleman! He had parted with
a friend when he gave up his suit. He arrived, at
length, at the gate, where he was met by Meriwether,
and almost by the whole company. It was a
surprise to him to find himself so near; and, immediately
his march so tardy and perplexed, he put on his
accustomed demeanor of studied and sprightly civility,
and replied to the numerous greetings with an
alacrity that astonished every one.
“I fear I have kept you waiting, my friend,” said
he to Meriwether; “that, you know, is not my way;
but, body-o'-me! I had like to have made a slip; my
timepiece is to blame. We old fellows,” he continued,
looking at his watch, “hav'nt so much of this
commodity to lose either, Mr. Meriwether, ha, ha!
Time does not spare such an old curmudgeon as I:
he has handled me pretty well already.”
“Papa, what made you stay so long?” asked Bel.
“We have been waiting for you until I began to be
alarmed lest something had happened to you.”
“My dear,” replied the father, “I thought I would
just ride round by the Apple-pie to take a look at the
grounds; and I believe I staid there rather too long.”
“And what had you to look at there, all by yourself,
I should like to know?”
“Nothing, my dear; but we must not talk of the
Apple-pie,—not a word! That subject is to be buried
for ever. It is done, I assure you, my dear, it is
done.”
With these words, the old gentleman entered the
hall and mingled with the crowd.
| CHAPTER IV.
A COUNTRY GATHERING. Swallow Barn, or A sojourn in the Old Dominion | |