List Of Contents | Contents of Elinor Wyllys, by Susan Fenimore Cooper
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old pupil's property in Longbridge, is worth three times as much
now, as it was a short time since."

"Is it possible Longbridge has improved so much?"

"And then your old play-fellow has had two legacies from
relations of her mother's; everybody in the neighbourhood is
talking of her good-luck, and saying what a fortune she will turn
out. I only hope she will be happy, and not be thrown away upon
some one unworthy of her, like her poor cousin; for it seems
young Mr. Taylor is very dissipated."

Charlie probably sympathized with this remark, though he made no

"Mr. and Mrs. Tallman Taylor are in New-York now, I hear, just
come from New-Orleans. The family from Wyllys-Roof have gone over
to see them," added Miss Patsey.

"Yes, so I understand. They will be here before long, I suppose."

"Not immediately; for they are all going to Saratoga together.
Dr. Van Horne thought Miss Wyllys had better pass two or three
weeks at the Springs."

"That is fortunate for me--I shall see them the sooner; for I
must be at Lake George before the first of July. I have an order
for three views of the Lake, which I have promised to send to
England early in the fall."

Here Charlie entered into some details of his affairs, very
interesting to his mother and sister; and they seemed to be in a
very satisfactory condition, according to his own modest views.
After a while the conversation again returned to their Longbridge

"Did you know that Mr. Hazlehurst is coming home too, this
summer?" asked Miss Patsey.

"Yes; he wrote me word he hoped we should meet before long. How
did that affair with Mrs. Creighton turn out?"

"We did bear they were engaged; but it could not have been true,
for the lady has been in Philadelphia, and he in Brazil, for some
time, you know. I used to ask about such matters once in a while,
on purpose to write you word. But I had no great opportunity of
hearing much about Mr. Hazlehurst; for after that unhappy
business at Wyllys-Roof, there was, of course, a great coolness;
for some time I never heard his name mentioned there, and Mr.
Wyllys seldom speaks of him now."

"Are they not reconciled, then?"

"Not entirely, I am afraid; but you know they have not met for
three years."

"I shall hardly know myself at Wyllys-Roof, without seeing Mr.
Hazlehurst and Miss Graham there."

"You will find a great change in that respect. Mrs. Taylor has
not been here since her marriage; Miss Van Alstyne seems to have
taken her place; she is a very pleasant young lady. When the
family is at home now, there seems often to be some strange
gentleman with them."

"Fortune-hunters, I suppose," said Charlie, with some
indignation. "Well, the course of true love never has, and never
will run quite as it ought, I suppose. And how do all the
Longbridge people come on?--How is Uncle Josie?"

"Very well, indeed; just as good as ever to us. You must go to
see him to-morrow."

"Certainly;--and what is Uncle Dozie about?"

"At work in the vegetable-garden, as usual. He sent me a fine
basket of salad, and radishes, and onions, this morning."

"Clapp has got into a new house I see."

"Yes; he is in very good business, I believe; you saw Catherine,
you say?"

"Yes, for a minute only. I ran in to kiss Kate and the children,
while they were harnessing a horse for me at the tavern. Kate
looks very well herself. The children didn't remember much of
Uncle Charlie; but they are pretty, healthy little things,

The grandmother assented to the commendation of her daughter's
family; she thought them remarkably fine children. "Catherine was
a very fortunate woman," she said; "Mr. Clapp was a very superior
man, so very clever that he must do well; and the children were
all healthy--they had gone through the measles wonderfully, that

Charlie had not quite as elevated an opinion of his
brother-in-law as the females of the family; he allowed his
mother's remark to pass unnoticed, however.

"And so Mr. Taylor has given up Colonnade Manor," he continued.

"Yes; he has just sold it to Mr. de Vaux, a friend of Mr.
Wyllys," replied Miss Patsey.

"Why did he sell it, pray?"

"Well, the young ladies liked better to live about at hotels and
boarding-houses in the summer, I believe; they thought it was too
dull at Longbridge. Mr. Taylor didn't care much for the place:
you know there are some people, who, as soon as they have built a
house, and got everything in nice order, want to sell; it seems
as if they did not care to be comfortable; but I suppose it is
only because they are so fond of change."

We may as well observe, by way of parenthesis, that this fancy of
getting rid of a place as soon as it is in fine order, would
probably never occur to any man but an American, and an American
of the particular variety to which Mr. Taylor belonged.

"I don't wonder at his wanting to get rid of the house; but the
situation and the neighbourhood might have satisfied him, I
think," said Charlie, as he accepted Miss Patsey's invitation to
eat the nice supper she had prepared for him.

As he took his seat at the table, Mrs. Hubbard observed, that he
probably had not seen such short-cake as Patsey made, in Rome--to
which Charlie assented warmly. He had wished one evening, in
Florence, he said, for some of his sister's short-cake, and a
good cup of tea of her making; and the same night he dreamed that
the Venus de Medicis had made him some. He was ashamed of himself
for having had such a dream; but it could not be helped, such was
the fact.

{"Venus de Medicis" = Famous nude statue of the Goddess Venus--a
1st Century BC copy of a lost Greek statue by Cleomenes of
Athens--in the Uffizi Gallery in Florence}

Mrs. Hubbard thought no woman, Venus or not, ought to be ashamed
of making good short-cake; if they were bad, that would be a
different matter.

"Well, Charlie, now you have seen all those paintings and figures
you used to talk so much about, what do you think of them?--are
they really so handsome as you expected?" asked his sister.

"They are wonderful!" exclaimed Charlie, with animation; putting
down a short-cake he had just buttered. "Wonderful!--There is no
other word to describe them."

Mrs. Hubbard observed, that she had some notion of a painting,
from the minister's portrait in the parlour--Charlie took up his
short cake--she thought a person might have satisfaction in a
painting; such a picture as that portrait; but as for those stone
figures he used to wish to see, she could not understand what was
the beauty of such idol-like things.

"They are not at all like idols, mother; they are the most noble
conceptions of the human form."

How could they look human? He himself had told her they were made
out of marble; just such marble, she supposed, as was used for

"I only wish you could see some of the statues in Italy; the
Laocoon, Niobe, and others I have seen. I think you would feel
then what I felt--what I never can describe in words."

{"Laocoon" = A famous Greek statue, in the Vatican at Rome, of a
Trojan priest and his two sons being crushed by serpents. "Niobe"
= a famous statue, in the Uffizi Gallery in Florence (a Roman
copy of a lost Greek original attributed to Scopas), of Niobe --
in Greek mythology the daughter of Tantalus whose children were
slaughtered by Zeus and who was transformed into a weeping image
of stone}

Mrs. Hubbard said the names sounded very heathen-like to her
ears; she had never seen a statue, of any description whatever;
she didn't think she could have any satisfaction in looking at
one. If they had any colour to them, and were dressed up in
uniforms, and handsome clothes, like the wax-figures of General
Washington, Napoleon Bonaparte, and Lord Nelson, she had once
seen, they would be worth looking at, perhaps.

Miss Patsey wished to know, if among the statues he had seen,
there were any supposed to be likenesses of the great men that we
read about in history?

"There are many statues and busts in Italy, that are undeniably
portraits of some of the greatest men of antiquity," he replied.

"Do you suppose they are really like those old Romans? I don't
mean such likenesses as the portrait of our dear father; but
still pretty good for those old times?"

"Far better than anything of the kind you ever saw," replied
Charlie, drinking off a cup of tea.

Miss Patsey thought those might be worth seeing. A conversation
followed upon the delight Charlie had felt in beholding
celebrated places, the scenes of great events in past ages; a
delight that an American can never know in his own country, and
which, on that very account, he enjoys with a far keener zest
than a European. Miss Patsey seemed to enter a little into this
pleasure; but, upon the whole, it was quite evident that all the
imagination of the family had fallen to Charlie's share. The
young man thought little of this, however: when Judy had carried
away the remains of the supper, he returned to his mother's side,
and the evening passed away in that pleasant family chat, so
interesting to those who feel alike. Sympathy of the heart is a
tie ten-fold stronger than sympathy of the head; people may think
alike, and hate each other; while those who feel together, are
often led to adopt the same opinions.

When Charlie had read the usual evening chapter in the Bible, and
had received his mother's kiss and blessing, he laid himself down
with a thankful heart, in the little garret-room, as in his
childish years. The young artist's dreams that night, were a
mingled crowd of fancies; the memories of his boyhood reviving in
their old haunts, accompanied by more recent images brought from
beyond the Ocean, and linked with half-formed plans and ideas for
the future. Among these visions of the night, were two more
distinct than the rest; one was a determination to commence, the
very next morning, a copy of his honoured father's portrait, in
which the artist's object was unusual; for it was his chief aim
to make it as little like the original before him, as possible.
Shall we reveal the fact that another image, wearing a gentler
aspect than the stern, rigid features of the minister's portrait,
seemed to flit before the young painter's fancy, coming unbidden,
and mingling more especially with recollections of the past? As a
ray of moonlight stole into the low dormer-window, the young man
turned on his humble bed, a sigh burst from his lips, followed by
the words, "No, no!"

We shall keep the secret.


"Yonder, sure, they are coming."
As You Like It.

{William Shakespeare, "As You Like It", I.ii.147}

THE weather had been more than usually warm for several weeks,
and the morning after Charlie's return to Longbridge, when the
steamboat North America left the wharf at New-York, her decks and
cabins were filled by some five or six hundred passengers. There
were men, women, and children, of various characters, colours and
conditions. The scene on deck was pleasing and cheerful; the day
was lovely, the steamer looked neat and bright, and the great
majority of the females were gaily dressed in their summer
attire; most of the faces looked good-humoured, as if pleased to
escape from the heat and confinement of the town, to cooler air,
and a sight of the water and green woods. One might have supposed
it a party of pleasure on a large scale; in fact, Americans seem
always good-natured, and in a pleasant mood when in motion; such
is their peculiar temperament. The passengers on board the North
America soon began to collect in knots, family-groups, or parties
of acquaintance; some chatting, some reading, some meditating.
There was one difficulty, however, want of space to move about
in, or want of seats for some of those who were stationary.

After the boat had fairly begun her trip, and people had settled
themselves as well as they could, according to their different
fancies, a pretty little woman appeared at the door of the
ladies' cabin. In her light hair, and somewhat insipid face,
encased in an extremely fashionable hat, we recognise Mrs.
Hilson. Turning towards a gentleman who seemed waiting near the
door for her, she addressed him.

"Now, Monsieur Bonnet, do exert your gallantry, and find me a
seat on deck. The cabin is intolerably warm, I cannot stay
here;--where are Emmeline and the Baron?" 

"You see, Madame," he said, pointing towards the couple,
"Montbrun take a tabouret at once, when we come on board, and
Mademoiselle Emmeline now has it. It was very maladroit in me not
to keep one for you; I beg a t'ousand pardons."

{"tabouret" = a stool; "maladroit" = careless (French)}

"Haven't you got a seat; that is a pity. But I dare say you can
easily find one."

"Vraiment, ma chere Madame EEL-sun, there is no sacrifice I would
not make to procure you one. I am desole it should be impossible.
I have been looking; but all the tabourets and chair are taken by
ladies and gentlemans. You have a drole de maniere of travel in
this countree; so many people together, the ladies must be
victimes sometime."

{"Vraiment, ma chere..." = truly, my dear...; "drole de maniere"
= funny way (French)}

"Oh, no; you don't know how to manage, that is all. Has not the
Baron a chair?"

"Non, Madame; you see he is debout."

{"debout" = standing (French)}

"Well, there are some gentlemen seated; I see three or four--one
quite near you. Ask him for his chair."

The Frenchman shrugged his shoulders, and looked bewildered.

"Pray, ask that gentleman for his chair," repeated the lady,
pointing with her parasol to a person sitting at no great

"But, Madame, the gentleman will not know what a charming lady
wish for the chair--he will not give it."

"Oh, no danger; if you tell him it is for a lady, of course he
will let you have it. Why, how slow you are about it; you are
almost as bad as Captain Kockney, who never did anything when he
was asked."

"Ah, Madame, de graces do not say that!--I go."

{"de graces" = please (French)}

And Monsieur Bonnet, edging his way here and there behind the
ladies, and begging ten thousand pardons, at length reached the
person Mrs. Hilson had pointed out to him.

"What did you say?" exclaimed this individual, looking up rather
gruffly, at being addressed by an utter stranger.

"Mille pardons, Monsieur," continued Monsieur Bonnet; "a lady is
very much oppressed with fatigue, and send me to beg you will be
aimable to give her your chair."

{"mille pardons" = excuse me; "aimable" = obliging enough

"What is it?" repeated the man, who looked like an Englishman; "I
don't understand you."

Monsieur Bonnet again urged his request, in terms still more
civil. It would be rendering a very great service to the lady, he

"I am not acquainted with the lady; I advise you to look for an
empty chair," replied the other, resolutely turning his face in
an opposite direction.

Monsieur Bonnet shrugged his shoulders, and was moving towards
Mrs. Hilson au desespoir, when a gentlemanly-looking man, who was
seated, reading, not far from the Englishman, rose and quietly

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