“I thought I should have died of laughing, Kate!
He drove up to the door in his little sulky, with the pretty
bay trotter, and got out with as easy and careless an air as if
nothing at all had happened on his last visit. I think he is
the most delightfully cool personage I've ever known, and
were I one of the medical profession, I should prescribe for the
spleen or melancholy, a single dose of Mr. Thomas Alston!
His demeanor to sister Helen all day was really enchanting.
The most critical observer could not have discerned a shade
of embarrassment on his part. At first she was very much
put out, but I believe she ended by laughing—at least I saw
her smile. He inquired how Miss Helen had been since he
had last the pleasure of seeing her; he was happy to say
that his own health and spirits had been excellent!
“Did you ever hear of such a man? What a wretch!
Just as much as to say, “If you fancy I'm in the dumps because
you discarded me, you're very much mistaken!” And
now mark my prediction, Kate—sister Helen will end by
marrying him! just as sure as you're alive. And I should n't
blame her. Do n't tell anybody what I am now going to
say—do n't even whisper it—but, hold your ear close!—
we girls like a gallant that won't take a repulse! Do n't
we?
“There's no news but Jenny's marriage. I'm out of patience
with the post for not delivering my letter. I described
every thing, and crossed every page. I never saw Curle's
so full of company or so noisy. Some of the young men got
terribly, or delightfully tipsy, for they were very amusing.
There was a bowl of apple toddy that would, sure, have
floated a ship, and some of the gentlemen visited it so often
that they lost the use of their sea legs. That jets is not my
own—'t is second-hand.
“I stood, as I told you, with Barry Hunter, and he made
himself very agreeable. My dress was white brocade, with
rosettes of satin ribbon. The head-dress was of point de
Venise, my hair looped up with the pearls mamma presented
me at Christmas—the whole crowned with a wreath of
roses. I wore a pair of the stays I told you of, from Mr.
Pate's, in town. They fit admirably to the figure, and I
bend with ease in them, which can't be said of the new-fashioned
ones I got from London.
“I wish my letter telling you every thing had not been lost.
There were a number of your friends there—Mr. Cary, Mr.
Pendleton, and that remarkable-looking gentleman, Mr.
Tazewell, of Kingsmill, with his statue-like head and flowing
hair, parted in the middle like a picture of Titian.[1]
Mr.
Pendleton danced a minuet with me, with admirable grace,
but said with his silvery voice and extraordinary sweet smile,
that he was becoming an old gentleman, and must make
way for the youngsters. Mr. Jefferson from the mountains,
came up as he left me, and made himself very agreeable,
laughing with a pleasant wit at every thing. I do n't wonder
in the least at Martha Wayles marrying him, in spite of his
wild pranks at college which they talk of.[2]
They are at
The Forest, over in Charles City, you know.
“But I have n't told you of the terrible, dreadful accident
that happened to me, that is, the girls all thought it
such, but I did n't care a button. I was dancing with Barry
Hunter, in the reel, when one of the young heroes, who
had lost his sea legs from too great devotion to the inspiring
punch-bowl, trod on my skirt and tore it dreadfully. I
stumbled besides, and made the bride a low bow, kneeling
gracefully on one knee! The gentlemen all ran to aid me,
though I rose at once, and they gave the unfortunate young
gentleman, who 'd caused the accident, the blackest possible
looks. Barry Hunter would have followed, and called him
to account, had I not prevented it. The poor fellow, whose
name I'll suppress, made me the humblest apology, for
which I gave him my hand and a laugh; he 's since presented
me with a copy of verses, so exactly descriptive of
myself that you shall hear them, madam.
“Read!
“Iris, with every power to please,
Has all the graceful aids of art;
She speaks, she moves with matchless ease;
Her voice, her air alarms the heart!
While every eye her steps pursued,
As through the sprightly dance she shone,
The queen of Love with envy viewed
A form superior to her own.
`Cupid! my darling child,' she cried,
`Behold, amid that jocund train,
A nymph elate in beauty's pride,
The dangerous rival of my reign!
If aught a mother then may claim,
O! let her triumph here no more!
But mortify this earthly dame,
Or who will Venus now adore?'
She speake, her son obeyed, and lo!
Hid where no mortal eye could see,
At Iris' feet he dropped his bow,
She tripped, and fell upon her knee!
But ere a youth could lend his aid,
The sister graces rushed between,
Who still attend the lovely maid,
And softly raised her up unseen.
The little archer, in a fright,
To her who first the deed designed,
On fluttering pinions took his flight,
And left the guilty bow behind—
In Paphos, on a flowery bed,
Reposes now, bereft of arms;
While Iris conquers in his stead,
And reigns resistless in her charms!”
“Oh me! to be called the rival of Venus, and Iris, and all
—is n't it delightful? Pray, show the verses to everybody,
but do n't let them slip in the “Gazette,” 't would look so
vain.[3]
“I suppose we'll all go to the fine assembly soon, in town,
given to the Governor's lady. Won't my darling Kate
come too? I'm not flattering you, madam, when I say that
once the macearonies trooped after you, as the stars follow
lovely Cynthia, their queen! Mr. Willie's a pretty fellow!
“He's made the sun in private shine,” as Tom Alston says in
some verses he claims for his own, but he tells a story, for
they're by Mr. Addison. Do, pray, come shine on Vanely!
I know one somebody who'll dance for joy when you appear
there! She loves you dearly! and her name is
“Bonnybel.
“
Postscript.—I must defer to another occasion an account
of the really terrifying scene I had with a rattlesnake. His
Excellency Lord Harry St. John acted in the most heroic
manner, and after killing the snake, had the extreme goodness
to take me in his arms, as I'd fainted, and carry me
some distance. O! it was awful, Kate! I see the horrible
eyes still, but I won't think of it. 'T was in coming back
from a sail on the river, and a visit to Jamestown island.
By the bye, I wonder if Pocahontas was
brunette; I should
suppose so, as his Excellency, the Lieutenant, who's descended
from her, and admires her hugely, is dark. I'm
happy to say that
I'm blonde—am I not? You did not
tell me the truth of the report that his lordship was courting
down in Glo'ster. When I ask him he laughs. Do you
know, Kate, he's sadly deteriorated; he's really the most
odiously disagreeable person I know, and wearies me to
death. I wish he'd go and marry his Glo'ster beauty, but I
fear there's no such good luck—is there? Tell me in your
next letter, if you think of it. I'm dying to have some one
to tease him about when he returns from Richmond town,
whither he 's going in a day or two.
“Goodness! how late 't is by my repeater! I'll have no
roses in the morning. Pray, write soon—and now, pleasant
dreams to my precious, darling Kate. Good night!”
