University of Virginia Library

21. CHAPTER XXI.
PLEASANT PROSPECTS.

The rain had ceased, and nature was again arrayed
in the brilliancy of sunshine at the expiration
of three days. The Chronicle had so pleasantly beguiled
the term of my confinement, that I almost regretted
the returning azure of the sky which was to
summon me away from the delights of Swallow
Barn. The air had grown cooler by the late rains;
the verdure of the fields, before parched by the summer
drought, was now partially revived, and the country
wore something of the freshness of spring. I had
determined that my homeward journey should be inland,
and my design, therefore, was to take the public
stage from Petersburg, thence to Richmond,
Fredericksburg and Washington.

Soon after breakfast on the day of my departure,
Meriwether's carriage was at the door to transport
me as far as the first of the towns mentioned above.
I found that my cousin Lucretia had provided me a
store of refreshment sufficient to have sustained me
all the way to New York. This was neatly put up
in a basket, and placed in the carriage, on the plea
that I might be hungry upon my journey; or, at all
events, that I might not find as good fare at the inns
as I desired. It was in vain to refuse; “the stages
were long, and no one knew the comfort of being

well stocked with such necessaries until he was
on the road.” I submitted with a good grace, resolved
to leave what was given me in the carriage,
when I arrived at Petersburg.

And now came the moment of leave-taking, the
most painful of all the accompaniments of travel.
If I had been nurtured in the family from infancy, I
could not have called forth more affectionate solicitude;
and I was obliged to promise, what already
was indeed my secret purpose, to repeat my visit.
Meriwether expressed the kindest concern at my
leaving him, and engaged, what was quite unusual
for him, to write to me frequently after I should arrive
at home. The little girls kissed me a dozen
times, and the whole household, servants and all,
collected at the door to exchange farewells. Ned
Hazard now sprang into the carriage with me, and
we drove off.

That night I arrived at Petersburg. Hazard and
I parted here the next morning, with many vows of
friendship.

In due course of time, I was safely seated at
Longsides, upon the North River, where I have become
famous, at least with my mother and sisters,
for my long stories and rapturous commendations of
Swallow Barn, and my peremptory way of telling
how things are done in the Old Dominion.

POSTSCRIPT.

In the course of the winter that followed my return
to Longsides, I received several letters from
Hazard, from Meriwether, and, indeed, from most of
the family. Harvey Riggs, also, has been a punctual
correspondent. A letter from him, dated the tenth
of January, 1830, gives me a droll history of the festivities
at the Brakes on the first day of the year,
when, in pursuance of an arrangement which Ned
himself had before communicated to me, Hazard and
Bel were joined in the bands of holy wedlock, Bel
having, at last, surrendered at discretion. Harvey's
comments upon this incident are expressed in the
following extract:—

“After you left us, Ned relapsed into all his extravagancies.
In truth, I believe Bel grew heartily tired
of that incompatible formality of manner which he assumed
at our instigation. It sat upon him like an ill
fitted garment, and rendered him the dullest of mortals.
Bel took the matter into consideration, and at last
begged him to be himself again. Never did a school-boy
enjoy a holiday more than he this freedom; the
consequence was, that the wight ran immediately into
the opposite extreme, and has carried the prize,
notwithstanding he had trespassed against all decorum,

and had been voted incorrigible. The stars
have had an influence upon this match! I devoutly
believe that it all comes from old Diana's prophecy.

“Meriwether discourses philosophically upon the
subject, and says that `marriage is a matter to be
soberly looked at; for if it be unwisely contrived, it is
one of the most irrevocable errors in the world,
though not the most unlikely to have its full share of
repentance.”'

The revelry had scarcely ceased at the date of this
letter; and it was a part of the family plans that
Ned should live, for the present, at the Brakes.

Accounts as late as April inform me, that Philly
Wart had just been re-elected to the Legislature,
much against his wish, and, indeed, in the face of his
protestations that he declined a poll. He is said to
have remarked, rather petulantly, at the close of the
election, “that it was all nonsense to argue the question
of constitutional doctrine,—here was a case in
point,—the will of the constituent will bindt he representative
in spite of all theories!” The worthy
barrister had, a short time before, covered himself
with glory by one of his most flowery speeches at the
bar, in defending his brother, Toll Hedges, upon an
indictment for an assault on one of the justices of
the quorum.

It is at a still later date that Ned writes me touching
the affairs at the Brakes. Mr. Tracy had not
yet become reconciled to the extinction of the lawsuit.
Ned accompanied him lately upon his morning
ride, and the old gentleman took his course to
the Apple-pie. Here, as Ned describes him, he took

a stand upon the mound that formed one of the abutments
of the dam, and remained silently pondering
over the landscape for a full hour, and, most of the
time, tugging at his underlip with his hand. “It
was singular,” he remarked to Hazard, after this interval,
“that Meriwether should have fallen into the
error of thinking that he had a claim to this land. I
have a mind to give him my ideas on paper. It will
be instructive to you, Mr. Hazard.”

“Frank stood upon his survey,” replied Ned.

“I doubt if there was a survey,” rejoined the old
gentleman; “there is no memorandum of it in my
notes.”

Ned was almost afraid to contradict him; but at
length ventured to say,—

“It was produced, you remember, at the trial,
signed by Jeremiah Perkins himself.”

Mr. Tracy knitted his brows for a moment, and
then said, “It is very strange! I don't think there was
a survey. There is some mistake. I wish the thing
were to go over again!”

The tenor of all my letters now shows that every
thing goes on smoothly on the James River, and that
the Old Dominion contains some very happy persons
within its bosom.