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BALL AT THRAM'S HUDDLE.
The winter being a time of comparative leisure for the farmer
and his family, is generally the chosen period for regular, premeditated
amusements, such as dancing, seeing “shows,” and going
to school;—this last being considered only fit to fill up spare
time of such young people as are old enough to do any thing
“useful.” A ball on Christmas or New-Year night, or in commemoration
of Jackson's victory, or Washington's birth, is always
in order; as those ears happen all to occur in the depth of winter.
And the raree-shows which traverse the remoter parts of the
country, almost invariably offer their attractions about the same
period, their owners knowing very well that the farmer never feels
so generous or so jovial as when his crops are all safely housed,
and his wheat in the ground for next year's harvest.
These exhibitions are a rich treat, sometimes; not only to those
who gaze upon them in good faith, but to the cooler spectator, employed
rather in watching the company than the performers. I
remember one, the matériel of which was a Lecture on Astronomy,
with Orrery and Tellurium, (grand-sounding amusements for the
woods!) a model of Perkins' steam gun, and a Magic Lantern.
The master of ceremonies (feeling very little ceremony himself,)
went about quite coolly, with his hat on and a segar in his mouth,
marshalling the company, and ordering the boys to make themselves
as small as they could, in order that he might the more easily
get round to take up a contribution before the “exercises” began.
The fee, being left to the generosity of the spectators, was not
very burthensome in collecting; and the orator declared before
he began the lecture, that he had not received enough to pay for
the candles—of which, by the bye, there were only four, for an
audience of nearly an hundred people. This moved a good woman
on one of the back seats so deeply, that she asked him to
hands, to the rostrum, where the pathetic speaker, after first examining
it on both sides by the nearest candle, put it in his pocket,
and then, with a more contented air, ordered the music to begin.
The violin accordingly struck up a lively tune, to which all
the male part of the audience kept time with their feet; and the
lecture, thus gilded over like a bitter pill, began. But such a
lecture! It was read off by rote, the reader evidently knowing
no more of his subject than of Hebrew, and having merely garbled
from some dull treatise, an incomprehensible jumble of facts
and theories that would have puzzled Sir John Herschel in the
disentangling. The effect of such “amusement” on such an audience
may easily be imagined. Some yawned, some nodded, and
some went fairly and audibly to sleep. In vain the four candles
were snuffed—in vain the lecturer told his audience that he was
“just going to bite off”—they evidently began to wish their sixpences
back in their pockets, when the lecturer finished and the
violin was heard once more. This crisped the spirits of the company
admirably, and the most curious blundering expositions of
the Orrery and Tellurium found tolerably willing ears. The
showman had wisely put the worst first; and now having done
with the stars, he came to the steam gun, which took very well;
the alcohol burning properly blue, and the reports being managed
with the gentleness of any sucking dove.
But the cream of the night was the Magic Lantern, which had
at least the merit of being suited to the apprehension of the auditory;
its grotesque figures and frightful goblins possessing, too,
the additional advantage of being set off by the operator's wit.
The extinguishment of the lights set all the babies crying at once;
but the violin, or some panacea discovered by the mammas, quieted
them after a while; and we saw “the ghost that scared London
for twenty years” roll his eyes horribly, and were told by
the operator that that was the way the young men cast sheep's
eyes when they went a-speaking. This idea created a laugh of
course, which seemed a happy relief to some of the spectators,
who had begun to feel very squeamish at the sight of a ghost. The
night-mare, and several other engaging physiognomies, were still
to come, and after all was over, in spite of desperate jokes, some
expect to sleep a wink all night. Yet they were doubtless sure
not to miss the next exhibition of the same kind.
The only exception to the choice of winter for regular amusements,
is the ball on Independence night, or rather day, for we
take time by the forelock. In the sketch which follows, I have
endeavoured to give an idea of one of these; but it must be understood
that the description applies to a newly settled part of the
country, far from the vicinity of any large town.
It was on the sultriest of all melting afternoons, when the flies
were taking an unanimous siesta, and the bees, baked beyond
honey or humming, swung idly on the honeysuckles, that I observed,
with half-shut eye, something like activity among the
human butterflies of our most peaceful of villages. If I could
have persuaded myself to turn my head, I might doubtless have
ascertained to what favoured point were directed the steps (hasty,
considering all things,) of the Miss Liggits, Miss Pinn, and my
pretty friend, Fanny Russell; but the hour was unpropitious to
research, and slumber beguiled the book from my fingers, before
the thought “Where can they be going!” had fairly passed
through my mind. Fancy had but just transported me to the
focus of a circle of glass-blowers, the furnace directly in front,
and the glowing fluid all round me, when I was recalled to almost
equally overcoming realities, by a light tap at the door. I
must have given the usual invitation mechanically, for before I
was fairly awake, the pink face of one of my own hand-maidens
shone before my drowsy eyes.
“If you don't want me for nothin', I'd like to go down to the
store to get some notions for the ball.”
“The ball! what! a red-hot ball!” I replied, for the drowsy
influence was settling over me again, and I was already on the
deck of a frigate, in the midst of a sharply-contested action.
“Massy no, marm! this here Independence ball up to Thram's
Huddle,” said Jane, with a giggle.
I was now wide awake with astonishment. “A dance, Jane,
in such weather as this!”
“Why law! yes; nothin' makes a body so cool as dancin' and
drinkin' hot tea.”
This was beyond argument. Jane departed, and I amused
myself with the flittings of gingham sun-bonnets and white aprons
up and down the street, in the scorching sun.
It was waxing toward the tea-hour, when that prettiest of Fannies,
Fanny Russell, her natural ringlets of shadowy gold, which
a duchess might envy, looking all the richer under the melting
influence of the time, came tripping into the little porch.
“If you would be so kind as to lend me that large feather fan;
I would take such good care of it! It's for the ball.”
Sweet Fanny! one must be churlish indeed, to deny thee a
far greater boon!
Next came that imp, Ring Jones; but he goes slyly round to
the kitchen-door, with an air of great importance. Presently,
enter Jane.
“Ring Jones has brought a kind of a bill, marm, for our Mark;
and Mark ain't to hum, and Ring says he can't go without an
answer.”
“But I cannot answer Mark's billets, you know, Jane.”
“No, marm; but—this 'ere is something about the team, I
guess.”
And in the mean time Jane had, sans ceremonie, broken the
wafer, and was spelling out the contents of Mark's note.
“I can't justly make it out; but I know it's something about
the team; and they want an answer right off.”
Thus urged, I took the note, which was after this fashion:
“The agreeable Cumpany of Mr. Mark Loring and Lady is
requested to G. Nobleses Tavern to Thram's huddle Independence
the 4th July.”
And here followed the names of some eight or ten managers.
“But, Jane, here's nothing about the team, after all.”
“Jist look o' t'other side, marm; you see they didn't want to
put it right in the ticket, like.”
Upon this hint, I discerned, in the extreme corner of the paper,
a flourish which might be interpreted “over.” Over I went accordingly,
and there came the gist of the matter.
“Mark we want to hav you be ready with your Team at one
don't forgit to Put in as many Seats as you can and All your
Buffaloes.”[1]
I ventured to promise that the team, and the seats, and the buffaloes,
should be at Mark's disposal at “one percisely,” and
Ring Jones departed, highly exalted in his own opinion, by the
success of his importunity.
It was to be supposed that we had now contributed our quota
of aid on this patriotic occasion; but it seemed that more was
expected. The evening was far advanced, when the newly-installed
proprietor of the half-finished “hotel” at Thram's Huddle,
alighted at our door; and, wiping his dripping brow, made known
the astounding fact that he had scoured the country for dried apples,
without success, and informed us that he had come, as a
dernier resort, to beg the loan of some; “for,” as he sensibly
observed, “a ball without no pies, was a thing that was never
heerd on, no wheres.”
When this matter was settled, he mustered courage to ask, in
addition, for the great favour of a gallon of vinegar, for which he
declared himself ready to pay any price; “that is, any thing
that was reasonable.”
I could not refrain from inquiring what indispensable purpose
the vinegar was to serve.
“Why, for the lettuce, you see!—and if it's pretty sharp, it'll
make 'em all the spryer.”
Mr. Noble departed, in a happy frame of mind, and we heard
no more of the ball that night.
The next day, the eldest Miss Liggitt “jist called in,” as she
happened to be passing, to ask if I was “a-goin' to want that
'ere flowery white bunnet-curting” of mine.
Some time ago I might not have comprehended that this description
applied to a blonde-gauze veil, which had seen its best
days, and was now scarce presentable. It did not require any
great stretch of feminine generosity to lend this; but when it
came to “a pair of white lace gloves,” I pleaded poverty, and
got off.
Our Jane, who is really quite a pretty girl, though her hair be
of the sandiest, and her face and neck, at this time of the year,
one continuous freckle, had set her heart upon a certain blue
satin ribbon, which she did not like exactly to borrow, but which
she had none the less made up her mind to have, for the grand
occasion. So she began, like an able tactician, by showing me
one of faded scarlet, on which she requested my opinion.
“Don't you think this'll look about right?”
“That horrid thing! No, Jane, pray don't be seen in that!”
“Well! what kind o' colour do you think would look good
with this belt?” holding up a cincture, blue as the cloudless vault
above us.
“Blue, or white; certainly not scarlet.”
“Ah! but I ha'n't got neither one nor t'other;” and she looked
very pensive.
I was hard-hearted, but Jane was not without resource.
“If you'd a-mind to let me have that 'ere long blue one o'
your'n: you don't never wear it, and I'd be willin' to pay you for't.
Who could hold out? The azure streamer became Jane's, in
fee simple.
Spruce and warm looked our good Mark, in his tight blue
coat, with its wealth of brass buttons, his stock five fathoms
—I mean inches—deep, and his exceeding square-toed boots,
bought new for this very solemnity. And a proud and pleased
heart beat in his honest bosom, I doubt not, as he drove to the
place of rendezvous, buffaloes and all, with cerulean Jane at his
side, a full half hour before the appointed time. They need not
have cautioned Mark to be “percise.” For my part, I longed for
“the receipt of fern-seed to walk invisible,” or some of those other
talismans which used in the good old times to help people into
places where they had no business to be; and in this instance, the
Fates seemed inclined to be propitious, in a degree at least.
The revellers had scarcely passed on the western road in long
and most rapid procession—the dust they raised had certainly not
subsided—when a black cloud, which had risen stealthily while
all were absorbed in the outfit, began to unfold its ominous shroud.
The fringes of this portentous curtain scarcely passed the
zenith, when a low, distant muttering, and a few scattering but
the gay cortége could have reached the Huddle, which is fully six
miles distant, a heavy shower, with thunder and lightning accompaniments,
must have made wet drapery of every damsel's
anxiously elaborate ball-dress. Beaver and broad-cloth might
survive such a deluge, but alas for white dresses, long ringlets,
and blonde-gauze “bunnet-curtings!”
The shower was too violent to last, and when it had subsided,
and all was
(“man is his own Fate,”) which would bring us into the very
sound of the violins of the Huddle. A young woman who had
filled the very important place of “help” in our family, was
lying very ill at her father's; and the low circumstances of her
parents made it desirable that she should be frequently remembered
by her friends during her tedious illness. So in a light
open wagon, with a smart pony, borrowed for the nonce, selon les
regles, we had a charming drive, and moreover, the much-coveted
pleasure of seeing the heads of the assembled company at Mr.
Noble's; some bobbing up and down, some stretched far out of
the window, getting breath for the next exercise, and some, with
bodies to them, promenading the hall below. I tried hard to
distinguish the “belle chêvelure” of my favourite Fanny Russell,
or the straight back and nascent whiskers of our own Mark; but
we passed too rapidly to see all that was to be seen, and in a few
moments found ourselves at the bars which led to the forlorn
dwelling of poor Mary Anne Simms.
The only apartment that Mr. Simms' log-hut could boast,
was arranged with a degree of neatness which made a visitor
forget its lack of almost all the other requisites for comfort; and
one corner was ingeniously turned into a nice little room for the
sick girl, by the aid of a few rough boards eked out by snow-white
curtains. I raised the light screen, and what bright vision
should meet my eyes, but the identical Fanny, for whom I had
looked in vain among the bobbing heads at the Huddle. She was
something like a flush, and her eyes a decided moisture, from the
sense of Fanny's cheering kindness.
Fanny explained very modestly: “I was so near Mary Anne,
and I didn't know when I should get time to come again—”
“Didn't you get wet, coming over?”
“Not so very: we—we had an umbrella.”
I remembered having lent one to Mark.
“But you are losing the ball, Fanny; you'll not get your
share of the dancing.” And at this moment I heard a new step
in the outer part of the room, and a very familiar voice just outside
the curtain:
“Come, Miss Russell, isn't it about time to be a-goin'? There's
another shower a-comin' up.”
Fanny started, blushed, and took leave. Common humanity
obliged us to give time for a retreat, before we followed; for we
well knew that our very precise Mr. Loring would not have been
brought face to face with us, just then, for the world. When we
did emerge, the sky was threatening enough, and as there was
evidently no room for us where we were, we had no resource but
to make a rapid transit to Mr. Noble's. We gained the noisy
shelter just in time. Such a shower!—and it proved much more
pertinacious than its predecessor; so that I had the pleasure of
sitting in “Miss Nobleses” kitchen for an hour or more. We
were most politely urged to join the festivities which were now
shaking the frail tenement almost to dislocation; but even if we
had been ball-goers, we should have been strikingly de trop, where
the company was composed exclusively of young folks. So we
chose the kitchen.
The empress of this torrid region, a tall and somewhat doleful
looking dame, was in all the agonies of preparation; and she
certainly was put to her utmost stretch of invention, to obtain
access to the fire-place, where some of the destined delicacies of
the evening were still in process of qualification, so dense was the
crowd of damp damsels, who were endeavouring in various ways
to repair the cruel ravages of the shower. One “jist wanted to
dry her shoes;” another was dodging after a hot iron, “jist to rub
off her hankercher;” while others were taking turns in pinching
Ophelia-like, around their anxious faces. Poor “Miss Nobles”
edged, and glided, and stopped, among her humid guests, with a
patience worthy of all praise; supplying this one with a pin, that
with a needle-and-thread, and the other with one of her own sidecombs;
though the last mentioned act of courtesy forced her to
tuck behind her ear one of the black tresses which usually lay
coiled upon her temple. In short, the whole affair was a sort of
prelibation of the Tournament, saving that my Queen of Beauty
and Love was more fortunate than the Lady Seymour, in that
her coiffure is decidedly improved by wet weather, which is more
than could probably be said of her ladyship's.
At length, but after a weary while, all was done that could be
done toward a general beautification; and those whose array
was utterly beyond remedy, scampered up stairs with the rest,
wisely resolving not to lose the fun, merely because they were
not fit to be seen.
The dancing now became “fast and furious,” and the spirit of
the hour so completely aroused that thirst for knowledge which is
slanderously charged upon my sex as a foible, that I hesitated not
to slip up stairs, and take advantage of one of the various knot-holes
in the oak boards which formed one side of the room, in order
that a glimpse of something like the realities of the thing might
aid an imagination which could never boast of being “all compact.”
It was but a glimpse, to be sure, for three candles can
do but little toward illuminating a long room, with dark brown
and very rough walls; but there was a tortuous country-dance,
one side quivering and fluttering in all the colours of the rainbow,
the other presenting more nearly the similitude of a funeral;
for our beaux, in addition to the solemn countenances which they
think proper to adopt on all occasions of festivity, have imbibed
the opinion that nothing but broad-cloth is sufficiently dignified
wear for a dance, be the season what it may. And there
were the four Miss Liggets, Miss Mehitable in white, Miss
Polly Ann in green, Miss Lucindy in pink, and Miss Olive all
over black-and-blue, saving the remains of the blonde-gauze
veil, which streamed after her like a meteor, as she galoped
“down the middle.” My own Jane was playing off her most
seemed for once caught, instead of catching; and to my great
surprise, Fanny Russell, evidently in the pouts, under cover of
my fan, was enacting the part of wall-flower, while Mark leaned
far out of the window, at the risk of taking an abrupt leave of
the company.
Peeping is tiresome. I was not sorry when the dance came to
an end, as even country-dances must; and when I had waited to
see the ladies arranged in a strip at one end of the room, and the
gentlemen in ditto at the other, and old Knapp the fiddler testing
the absorbent powers of a large red cotton handkerchief upon a
brow as thickly beaded as the fair neck of any one of the
nymphs around him, (and some of them had necklaces which
would have satisfied a belle among our neighbours, the Pottowatomies,)
I ran down stairs again, to prepare for our moonlight
flitting.
Mrs. Noble now renewed her entreaties that we would at least
stay for supper; and in the pride of her heart, and the energy
of her hospitality, she opened her oven-door, and holding a candle
that I might not fail to discern all its temptations, pointed out to
me two pigs, a large wild turkey, a mammoth rice-pudding, and
an endless array of pies of all sizes; and these she declared
were “not a beginning” of what was intended for the “refreshment”
of the company. A cup-board was next displayed, where,
among custards, cakes, and “saase,” or preserves, of different
kinds, figured great dishes of lettuce, “all ready, only jist to
pour the vinegar and molasses over it,” bowls of large pickled
cucumbers, and huge pyramids of dough-nuts. But we continued
inexorable, and were just taking our leave, when Fanny Russell,
her pretty eyes overflowing and her whole aspect evincing the
greatest vexation and discomposure, came running down stairs,
and begged we would let her go home with us.
“What can be the matter, Fanny!”
“Oh, nothing! nothing at all! But—I want to go home.”
It is never of much use advising young girls, when they have
made up their minds to be foolish; yet I did just call my little
favourite aside, and give her a friendly caution not to expose herself
to the charge of being rude or touchy. But this brought
me all about it; so we took her in and drove off.
I could not but reflect, as we went saunteringly home, enjoying
the splendour of the moonlight, and the delicious balminess
of that “stilly hour,” how much all balls are alike. Here had
been all the solicitude and sacrifice in the preparation of costume;
all the effort and expense in providing the refreshments; for
the champagne and ices, the oysters and the perigord pies, are no
more to the pampered citizens, than are the humbler cates we have
attempted to enumerate, to the plain and poor back-woodsman;
then here was the belle of the evening, in as pretty a paroxysm
of insulted dignity, as could have been displayed on the most
classically-chalked floor; and, to crown all, judging from past experience
in these regions, some of the “gentlemen” at least
would, like their more refined prototypes, vindicate their claims
to the title, by going home vociferously drunk. We certainly are
growing very elegant.
Fanny's explanation was deferred, at her own request, until
the following morning; and long before she made her promised
visit, Jane, who came home at day-light, and only allowed herself
a change of dress before she entered soberly upon her domestic
duties, had disclosed to me the mighty mystery. It had been the
opinion of every body, Jane herself included, (a little green-eyed,
I fancy,) that Fanny and Mark had gone off to Squire Porter's
and got married, under cover of the visit to poor Mary Anne.
This idea once started, the beaux and belles, not better bred than
some I have seen elsewhere, had not suffered the joke to drop, but
pushed their raillery so far, that Fanny had fairly given up and
run away, while Mark, however well pleased in his secret soul,
had thought it necessary to be very angry, and to throw out sundry
hints of “thrashing” some of the stouter part of the company.
The peace had not actually been broken, however; and
when I saw and talked with Fanny, the main difficulty seemed to
relate to the future course of conduct to be observed toward
Mark, who, as Fanny declared, with another sprinkling of tears,
had “never thought of saying such a word to her in his life!”
Women are excellent manœuverers generally, but we were
outdone here. All our dignified plans for acting “as if nothing
who, before the week was out, not only said “such a word,”
but actually persuaded Fanny to think that the best of all ways
to disprove what had been said, was to go to Squire Porter's, and
make it true, which was accordingly accomplished, within the
fortnight.
“And what for no?” Mark Loring, with a very good-looking
face, and a person “as straight as a gun-barrel” (to borrow a
favourite comparison of his own,) has the wherewithál to make
a simple and industrious country maiden very comfortable. He
has long been earning, by the labour of his hands, far better pay
than is afforded to our district schoolmaster; and with the well-saved
surplus has purchased a small farm, which he and his
pretty wife are improving with all their might. No more balls
for my bright-haired neighbour, or her sober spouse! And if I
should tell my honest sentiments, I should say “so much the better!”
for in the hastening of the happy marriage of Mark and
Fanny, may be summed up all the good which I have yet observed
to result from the ball at Thram's Huddle, or any other in
our vicinity.
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