turbed by grandma's shrill remarks, continued. She represented the artless, exuberant Therese with her overflowing, boundless heart, and good will towards all mankind, as a wicked, vexatious little imp-destroying the peace of every family into which she entered-and as being leagued with the yellow fever, and the green-eyed monster, to carry destruction into all quarters. She was notoriously fond of waltzing, and polking with beardless youths, easily overcome by her wiles. She was, furthermore, excessively fond of Mr. Blanton, and made nothing of treating him in a most sisterly manner.

The family convocation about this delightful Therese was held in mamma's room. Aunt Braxley had related her dippings, flourishing her tooth-brush with great effect. Grandma had made several blunders, but on the whole her remarks were caustic and telling. Poor Bob had battled for his sweetheart manfully, telling of her simplicity, her gentle charities, her meekness, and forgiving heart. Mamma had related how Therese, during her memorable visit to Fairy Hill, would leave the gay company to come and sit in her room and have a quiet chat with her, and how tender and charming she was. Louise had said how she loved her, and how she had rather Robert would marry her than the queen of all the Brazils. And I had told how she had stolen her soft arm around my waist, and asked me so innocently if I loved her?

"As though any body could help loving her!" cried Robert.

Just then papa came in, and inquired what we were all talking about.

"Why, about this widow who has come here and turned Robert's head," said the ever ready Mrs. Barbara.

"Turned Robert's head! His head is not so easily turned, depend upon it."

"Don't you believe the harf (half) of that," returned the sapient dame. "I have had beaux, a few of them, report says;" Mrs. Barbara had been a famous belle. "At all events, I know enough of courting and love-scrapes generally, to know when a young gudgeon nibbles at a bait (which has been passed and repassed, and seen through by wiser fish, I fancy), and then, like a certain young man not a hundred miles from here, gulps down the hook and the line, to the infinite wonder and amusement of connoisseurs in that sort of thing."

"Tut, tut-I hope I shall hear no more of this," said papa. "Mrs. Blanton indeed!

"My dear Mr. Rushton," interposed mamma, her eyes filling with tears at Robert's discomfiture. VOL. 1.-17

"Be quiet, my dear, Mr. Robert Rushton should know better."

"Exactly," said the dowager; "he should really know better. Why, Sappingwood is a Solomon to her."

"I beg that you will not speak of her in that way," said Robert, knitting his brow. "And I beg some consideration for one who has been our guest," remarked the elegant and impassive Louise, from the lounge.

"Hoity, toity!" cried grandma. "It seems that I have aroused a hornet's nest. I am constrained to remark, at the peril of my ears, that young Mr. Hornet's moustache will have to exert itself considerably before the uncommon glibness of his tongue can annihilate me exactly."

"Pshaw!" said papa. "I wonder, Robert, that you are so silly. I expected a flirtation between Mrs. Blanton and yourself, but, upon my word, I was not prepared for any further exhibition of folly."

"I do not like to reply to you now, sir," said Robert, handing papa, who was standing, a chair. "I might be tempted to say something which I should regret. We will dismiss the subject, if you please."

The reader can form no idea of the inimitable grace of these words, or of my handsome brother's beautiful and respectful manner. He softened all hearts, and dispelled all acrimony.

Mrs. Braxley, who had not been figuring at all during the latter part of the conversation, now thought it time for prayers. She was a professed expounder and exhorter. She did not mind rising in a crowded church and giving out an appointment for her neighborhood. Indeed she did not mind doing any thing she chose to do. She always rang in the servants, during her visitations and gave us prayers. And such prayers! None of your lack-adaisical, lukewarm affairs, but fervent, strong, knock-down-and-drag-out improvisations.

She prayed for rain if she wanted rain. She called sinners by their names, and prayed for their speedy disenthralment from the bondage of sin.

But, as I was saying, after much ringing, and scolding, and "blessings over the left shoulder," as Sap called them, she succeeded in gathering in our straggling undisciplined troops. She then read the sermon on the mount, and sang the Old Hundred, after which she favored us with one of her strongest impromptus. She had a clear, ringing voice, and the ready words came trippingly on her tongue, and Mrs. Braxley would have made no ordinary preacher. After a soul-searching and Satan-exterminating prayer, of nearly a half an hour in length, we all received her benediction

and arose from our recumbent position, save my brother's devout man Sappingwood, who thought proper to remain on his knees in an attitude of profound devotion.

"I am glad to see Sappingwood so religious," remarked grandma, in a loud whisper to the company, while Sappingwood still remained upon his bended knees. "Sappingwood, you will please finish your devotions elsewhere," said papa, as the servants retired. Grandma then approached him gently, and tapping him on the back with her spectacle case, said, "Sappingwood, you will please finish your devotions elsewhere."

At which Sap started up, rubbed his eyes, scratched his head, and seeing grandma, cried out "the devil!" and took to his heels, running over "eight foot eleven," as he called Epsey, and finally made but one step from the head of the stairs to the landing.

Poor Sap had fallen asleep under Mrs. Braxley's soporific prayer, being the most sleepy-headed nigger, grandma informed us, between this and a brother of his she had sold somewhere, wherever that was.

Not very long after this, Robert stormed the library, and informed papa in a pathetic manner, that he was dying for Mrs. Blanton, actually dwindling away, and losing his appetite (in the height of the strawberry season too, said my romantic brother), because Therese would cruelly persist in being so enchanting.

"And what have you done with your old flame, Mary Jennings ?" asked papa, turning round in his chair, that he might get a better view of his hopeful.

"Mary Jennings!" said Robert, slightly coloring. "why, when have I thought of Mary Jennings?"

Exactly, and yet that girl alarmed me for twelve months."

"But she is not like Therese, nobody is-"

"Oh no, I suspect not, and the next one will doubtless eclipse Therese."

"Well," said Robert, laughing, "will you try me a year, sir?"

"Yes, two of them, if you like. Come to me in a year, if we all live, and tell me that you are still true to Therese, and that Therese is still true to you, mind that, and my blessing will be upon you both.'

"Thank you, sir. If-if-by that time we are changed, I will go right off and propose to Col. Fletcher's daughter, upon my word."

"As a personal favor to your indulgent father," said papa.

"And," said Robert, "any other crosseyed lady of your acquaintance can be favorably noticed about that time."

I must explain to the reader that Maria Fletcher was what is called cock-eyed, though immensely rich, and of distinguished family, and that she was an old bone of contention between papa and Robert.

"You will at least have learned, I sincerely hope," remarked papa, "that happiness in this life does not exactly depend upon the turn of a lady's eye."

"Nevertheless," replied Robert, "I expect to find it sadly inconvenient to repeat the story of my love to a lady with one eye full upon me and the other out of the window."

"A trifle," said papa, and the conversation ended rather differently from what Mr. Rushton, junior, expected.

I am sorry to say that difficulties in another quarter beset my brother. Therese wrote him a little odorous letter, containing rather a startling and unique proposition. She proposed, with her usual naïveté, that they should endeavor to forget each other, and that she really thought Mr. Blanton would die if she rejected him again.

He had taken his bed when she told him all about "an affair," the dear little woman said, and had never gotten up until she promised to be off with Robert. Therese went on to say, that she and Robert were young and could forget perhaps, and form new ties, while poor Mr. Blanton was getting old-indeed was bald under his scratch (!)-and turning gray-and had proved so-oh terribly constant, that she was really afraid he might die, if she persisted in being so cruel as dear Mr. Rushton had advised.

Such a note my brother returned to this confiding, pliant creature, as would make one's hair stand on end. He wrote, that of course Mrs. Blanton could consult her own wishes about the matter-he had nothing to say-and would respectfully withdraw his proposals, rather than submit the lady to any such heart-rending trials as she had described.

After this, my handsome brother wore a sneer upon his lip, and read Byron with wonderful relish.

CHAPTER VL

CONTAINS ALL I SAW AT THE FAMOUS BLACK MOUNTAIN SPRINGS, AND MORE BESIDES.

IN due time the season arrived for every bird of passage to take flight. Dressmakers were sewing night and day, and spry clerks excessively active. Robert graciously offered to take Louise and myself to the famous Black Mountain Springs (which, by some mysterious agency, were to be the fashion that sea

son), provided we religiously promised to obey him in all things. He said we must, by all means, take our own maids, buy more dresses than we ever had in all our lives, and exert ourselves during the whole season to do honor to the family. He did not want to feel ashamed of his sisters. They must go in style, and hold high heads if they were going with him. Having agreed to abide by his instructions in all things, to hold high heads, and to take our own maids, active preparations commenced. Grandma and aunt Braxley were at loggerheads about Louise's outfit. The dowager was bent upon sending her to the Springs dressed out as the belles of her day. She wanted to lay in a large stock of spangles, wax beads, paste buckles, and bugles. She had known several persons, in her day, married solely by the skilful use of beads, spangles, and paste buckles. Nay, she instanced one Julianna Ruggles, whose ringlets had made her a belle. And having been made a belle by these ringlets, she was courted by James Maclin, who courted all the belles; indeed, ladies were not established belles in those days, until they had been courted by James Maclin. Well, he courted her, and she, contrary to all precedent, took him. Knowing what she did, she accepted him.

"For," said grandma, "I am coming to a horrible denouement. Robert, yours is nothing to it. She knew, the fiendish woman knew, they were false-the ringlets! and that her head was as bald as the palm of my hand! There she had the advantage of beau Maclin, and she clamped him, to the delight of every body-and he was a belle-hating and a ringlet-distrusting man, from that day

forth."

By such reminiscences as these, our estimable grandma prepared us for the Black Mountain Springs, which she evidently regarded as a battle-field. She said that girls who could do nothing for themselves at the Black Mountain Springs, might as well give up. There had been more matches made, and mischief done, at those Springs, than at any wateringplace of her acquaintance. While we were making our preparations for our summer tour, this dear old lady was going mysteriously about, with old rusty bunches of keys, and bringing out from secret repositories the pride of her youth, in the shape of trinkets, and silks, and satins. She presented Louise with several large oval brooches, with tombstones and weeping-willows upon them, which she said were wrought with her great, great grandmother's remarkable hair. She gave us a large box of Spa beads,

as large as partridge-eggs, which she said would produce quite a sensation at the Black Mountain, as doubtless they would. She strung my sister's fingers with numerous gold rings, with little odd-looking, bug-shaped stones upon them, to each of which there was a tremendous history attached. Finally, she lugged out, triumphantly, the identical crimson brocade which she had sported on the night of the calamitous conflagration.

In the mean time, mamma and Mrs. Braxley were coming home every evening laden with purchases.

Louise was happy and pleased. Papa opened his eyes at the bills which were handed to him by these industrious ladies, and seemed to think that one more trip to the Black Mountain would put him up to the highest bidder.

Robert had Sappingwood and the horses in training, and they were driving and dashing about every day, preparatory to a series of flourishes to be cut on the scene of action. The Black Mountain Springs, from their out-of-the-way location, were about to find themselves famous. The fashionables were growing semi-barbarous, and were pining to get beyond the great thoroughfare, to an Elysium where democratic steam could not penetrate. My brother, rather than endure uncomfortable inns, and a circuitous route, concluded to go by public conveyance. Sap was therefore sent on with the carriage and horses, and we took the cars. At the railroad station we met the Blantons, bound, also, for the Black Mountain.

Robert met Therese very coldly, which evidently pained the little woman very much. The coaches on the up train were very much crowded, and our party was separated. Robert found himself seated with a knot of college mates, I, with an unprotected female, Louise with Miss Willianna, and Mr. Blanton, Therese, and Adolphe at the lower end of the

car.

In travelling, Mrs. Blanton was the most interesting and accommodating little creature in the world. She would not take the best seat she could find, neither would she deprive polite gentlemen of comfortable quarters on any consideration. She held Adolphe on her lap, and sent his "bonne " into another car, in order to accommodate an elderly lady with a lounge. Finally, after doing all she could, to make the ladies, and invalids, and children, around her, comfortable, this dear little woman and her cherub boy both fell asleep, and my brother's eyes rested upon them in spite of himself. He watched the charming tableau

with a countenance of vivid pleasure. Therese sat with her head thrown back, her veil half fallen off, her soft lids closed, and Adolphe's curly head resting on her arm, while Blanton sat stark and stiff on the outside, guarding these treasures with a grim smile.

But on stopping, Mrs. Blanton was the busiest and most earnest little bodygathering up Adolphe, and all the books, shawls, and carpet-bags, belonging to our party, that she could lay her little hands upon. All this time my brother scarcely interchanged a syllable with her. When we came to the staging he could stand it no longer. She was entirely too natural, too busy, too earnest, too irresistible. Taking the most out-of-the-way little naps, saying the most charming things—and all the while pulling and lugging Adolphe about, like a great doll. Tourists were inquiring who the darling little woman was, and Adolphe was a pet with every body.

My brother tried to keep his eyes away from her, tried not to hear her, or to observe any thing she did; but this provoking little woman was too enticing for his philosophy. He found himself ever near her, being drawn more and more to her, and once when she looked up at him and smiled, my brother could have taken her to his heart for very thankfulness.

These horrible stages going to the Black Mountain Springs, were, of course, crowded. The weather was intensely warm, and people's equanimity put to the test. Few could preserve their amiability under all provocations. Ladies often looked sour, and gentlemen looked daggers while performing civilities. Early one morning we were seated in a pleasant coach, and a stirring breeze came down from the mountains, and we were expecting every minute to be dashing along the beautiful turnpike-when-horror of horrors !-a large, fat, hot-looking man, presented himself at the door, and looked around keenly for a seat. Passengers were civilly requested to make room for this very warm-looking man, of only three hundred pounds.

Now Mrs. Blanton, Adolphe, and Robert were cosily seated on the back seat; and ere Robert could enter a protest, Therese had taken Adolphe on her lap, and drawn herself up in a corner, leaving an alarmingly wide space between herself and her almost reconciled lover, to be filled up by this monster man. Seeing this, Robert sprang to her side, determined that no such formidable barrier should come between them, and told her so. She laughed, and the fat man came down with an "ah" and wedged himself in. I may say

that Therese and my brother had now a very close conversation, and, that never had this charming woman felt nearer to him than during the twelve miles he thus travelled. Perhaps I had better request the reader to see a moral in this, as I am not likely to have a moral ready for him at the close of the volume. It is an ill wind that blows nobody any good." Who would have thought that that large, overheated man, could have contributed to any body's happiness, by jamming himself in a crowded stage-coach? And yet, my brother Robert found himself supremely happy. Thus we see the most untoward events are fraught with good for somebody-and therefore we should never complain of untoward events, because they may ultimately develope themselves for our good.

A lady fainted in this crowded coach, and though she was old and common looking, Therese hung over her, and finally restored her with something she found away down in her carpet bag. Such evidences of this dear woman's overflowing goodness of heart and perfect unselfishness, were constantly occurring. Amid disorder she was calm. When others were complaining and railing against contractors, agents, and other discomforts, she was quiet, cool, and pleasant, and not unfrequently rebuked without a word, and restored good humor by her example. My brother, over head and ears in love, finally reached the Black Mountain Springs. We arrived on a clear, tingling morning, and found our rooms awaiting us.

We found all the fashionables assembled at this retired and rustic looking wateringplace. Happy groups were dotting the green-sward. Invalids were creeping painfully about. Children and nurses were wandering in all directions, animating the groves and waking up the solitudes. Ladies were talking in knots of twos and threes. Beautiful girls were sitting in piazzas surrounded by beaux. Romantic lovers were threading the distant groves. Dandies were attitudinizing and turning their glasses upon the belles. Carriages were dashing in every direction. Gentlemen in elegant turn-outs, were waving their hands to gay groups as they passed. Little French boys were talking to their French mammas, to the amusement of little Virginia boys, who made faces at them. Hunting parties were going merrily off, and pleasure was being sought in every available form by the hundreds congregated here.

I am sorry to say that our party was very exclusive at these Springs. I regretted this very much, as I desired, of all things, the piquant pleasure of amusing

myself in my own way, and of studying human nature in all its curious phases, as developed by mineral waters. But my brother would not allow it.

There was an old, fussy lady parading about with her daughters in all directions, and talking promiscuously to every body, who I was sure was a character, and I was very anxious to accept her invitation to drop into her cabin at odd hours; but Mr. Robert Rushton never heard of such a thing in his life! Then, there was the singing young lady, and the polking company, and an old beau, who, I am convinced, desired to make my acquaintance, but Mr. Robert Rushton said no, decidedly no. And down at the Spring I encountered a most pleasant lady and courtier-like gentleman, who were most elegantly and exquisitely dressed, had travelled every where and seen every thing in the world worth seeing, and who were really so charming and delightful, and withal so refined, that I promised to call on them, and, indeed, had arranged an excursion to a remarkable cave with them, when I was informed by my brother that I should have cut them; that they were not of our set. And so, by my contract, I was bound to cut them the next morning at breakfast. The reader will perceive that I know nothing about etiquette and exclusiveness, and that my exquisite brother and fastidious sister had all the care of the family honors, inasmuch as I really could not find out, for the life of me, "who was who." I was a bewildered and benighted woman, during the whole of this memorable season; no information was vouched me by any body whom I questioned; frowns, shrugs, and contemptuous "bahs" were all the answers I ever received to my benighted interrogatories. In vain I

sought for rules to guide me at these Springs. I saw Mr. Robert Rushton, to whom I was emphatically sold, riding and dining with creatures whose whole souls were absorbed in horses, livery, and style, and I saw him cut, ruthlessly, people whose whole souls were also absorbed in

horses, livery, and style! Then I saw Louise petting ladies, and smiling on gentlemen, who were badly dressed, and disagreeable, and yet this young lady would have nothing to do with the so-and-sos, because they were badly dressed and disagreeable!

It seems that Therese was somewhat unmanageable too. She only appeared in the ball-room twice a week, which was a rule with our party, but then, oh then! Mr. Robert Rushton was horrified to see her polking and waltzing with all sorts of partners. Mrs. Blanton gathered beaux from all quarters. Every body was doing

her homage. Robert, who had never been accustomed to this southern freedom of manner, was shocked and annoyed to see her polking about with people she never saw before. He remonstrated with her, and she would hang her head and be extremely penitent, and then-away she would go in some fierce fellow's arms.

My sister Louise was called very beautiful, but very haughty. Her admirers were among the most distinguished men at the Springs, and no fops of doubtful genus were admitted into her circle. In truth, my sister, according to her contract, held a very high head. She polk! She slide about zig-zag, with Tom, Dick, and Harry, while the rabble were forming a ring and looking on! Horrors! Gentlemen repented ever offering to take her out upon any such exhilarating excursions. She preferred standing aloof, protected by a cordon of elegantes, from contact with the herd; looking ever high-born, and superior, disdaining any air, or grace, or angular movement, which might mar the effect of her elegant repose.

Mrs. Blanton, who was an Alabamian, and who conversed delightfully in French and Spanish, secured all foreigners, all those new-fangled, over-done outré specimens who annually invade our staid Virginia, making her sons and daughters stare. I need not say that this was not altogether pleasant to Mr. Blanton or to Robert. I hope the reader and the rest of mankind are already aware of what I am going to tell, viz., that there is no persuading an elegant, thorough-bred Virginian to seek for effect, or to strive to gain the lion's share of public attention. They are invincible in their propriety. They are completely incrusted in a kind of hereditary superiority, and have no idea that all the world is not perfectly acquainted with their claims. Consequently, they will not make themselves ridiculous, though all the world should strive to be ridiculous, and though Fashion, who is most potent in Virginia, should proclaim it to be her supreme will that all her subjects should be as ridiculous as possible. They are, under all circumstances and all provocations, the most perfect ladies and gentlemen in the world. The swell mob can swell, and parvenus can dash about without being rivalled by a single son or daughter of the genuine aristocracy of the Old Dominion. Their regal repose of manner and high dignity of character is invulnerable. If other people will be outré and will angle for notoriety, what have these ladies and gentlemen to do with it? If a man will wear a remarkable hat, why, let him wear it. If a lady chooses to haul her hair back and invade society like a