THE UNIVERSITY OF 
 
 
 NORTH CAROLINA 
 
 
 
 LIBRARY 
 
 r 
 
 
 
 ®' 
 
 
 
 THE WILMER COLLECTION 
 
 
 
 OF CIVIL WAR NOVELS 
 
 
 
 PRESENTED BY 
 
 
 
 RICHARD H. WILMER, JR. 
 
 
 
 
 .Vr'^i 
 
 
 
 

BLOOM AND BRIER. 
 
BLUUM AND BRIER; 
 
 OR, 
 
 AS I SAW IT, LONG AGO, 
 
 % Southern |^omimce. 
 
 BY 
 
 WILLIAM FALCONER. 
 
 ^-ts 
 
 PHILADELPHIA: 
 CLAXTON, REMSEN & HAFFELFINGER. 
 MONTGOMERY. ALA. : JOEL WHITE. 
 1870. 
 
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1870, by 
 
 CLAXTON, REMSEN & HAFFELFINGER, 
 
 In the Clerk's Office of the District Coiirt of the United States in and for 
 
 the Eastern District of Pennsylvania. 
 
 STEREOTYPED BY J. FAGAX * SOX. PRINTED BY MOOBE BROTHERS. 
 
I 
 
 pdicat^d 
 
 TO MY FRIEND 
 HENRY W. HILLIARD, 
 
 OF AUGUSTA, G A. 
 
 T 
 
 HIS flashing effort at the portrayal of Southern life 
 may be drawn with a feeble hand, but it is as I saw it, 
 and as I understood it ; and however much it may fail in 
 artistic finish, it, at least, possesses the virtue of truth in its 
 spirit, and* points to a prouder, and a more magisterial 
 period than was ever held by any other modern people of 
 the earth ; and, alas ! prouder, too, than we, ourselves, will 
 ever hold again. 
 
 The quiet and conscious grandeur of the South, during 
 the Slave regime, swept as far beyond that of any other 
 order of society, as one planet sweeps beyond another in 
 the splendor of its light, and the radius of its orbit. Roy- 
 alty, itself, could not claim, through the authority of the 
 throne, that nameless homage and social power which the 
 Southron was born to, and receiving the one so unostenta- 
 tiously, and wielding the other so gracefully and so kindly. 
 Nature herself, as if careful of the history and position 
 held by the South, did not permit her to drag through a 
 long, dreary story of decay, but let her fall from the high- 
 est point of culmination, amid the wrecks of her splendid 
 
 vii 
 
 602891 
 
VIU DEDICATION. 
 
 fortunes, and the lances of her peerless chivalry ; and even 
 now, in her prostrated condition, she lies like the Spartan 
 upon her shield, \Nuth the flames of an eternal fame ascend- 
 ing from the crumbled altars of her past glory ; her ancient 
 prowess, and her honor, blazing so dazzlingly too, as to 
 sear the very eyeballs of those who would now look upon 
 her nakedness, or dare to jeer it. The nameless numbers 
 ofher conquerors are even forbidden all honor in the fall of 
 the victim, and all participation in the rites of the sac- 
 rifice, but the rather, are condemned to feel their hearts to 
 wither with a silent hate, as they see the lonely cortege 
 passing on to history and to immortality. 
 
 To Southern excellency and eminence in letters, and in 
 statesmanship in the time that is gone, you, sir — permit 
 me to say it — contributed your full share, in the brilliancy 
 of a classic oratory, and in the beauty and strength of a 
 flowing pen ; and let the mutations of fortune have been 
 what they may, or for the future be what they will, you 
 can now, in the evening of your life, rest satisfied with what 
 you accomplished in its morning, and that nothing can 
 destroy your relationship to the unfading glory of your 
 own great people, and of your own lovely South. 
 
 Believing that, outside of all consideration for the liter- 
 ary merit of this light romance, you will properly appre- 
 ciate the feeling which prompts me to take this liberty 
 with your name, I remain, 
 
 Very truly yours, 
 
 THE AUTHOR. 
 
 Snowdoun, 
 
 Montgomery Co., Ala., 
 
 March, 1870, 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 rpHE following story — if by grace it may be called a 
 -L story — is only intended to represent Southern life, in 
 certain coteries, as it existed under the old regime, and 
 to represent the same by contrast, under the present. In 
 doing this, I probably have made some remarks upon North- 
 ern society, which under ordinary circumstances might 
 seem to deserve apology; but as these are not only, not 
 ordinary, but anomalous, I shall quietly wait to have them 
 pointed out, when I will take pleasure in making the 
 amende ho7iorable, as I would not w^illingly wrong any part 
 of my country, or any class of my countrymen. 
 
 In the meanwhile, the author will suggest the idea, that 
 no people who persistently strive in the cause of their own 
 degradation, and loudly boast through their lawmakers and 
 representative men at large, of their successes in that di- 
 rection, can expect many bright touches of either pen or 
 pencil, from outside sources. A people, no less than an 
 individual, must respect their own dignity before they can 
 secure the respect of others. No outside attributes, of 
 whatever excellence, can secure them against merited con- 
 tempt, for a violation of this vital law. Much less will they 
 do this, where political science is biased by every possible 
 
X PREFACE. 
 
 obliquity, where religion tinctured with infidelity, is made 
 attractive by the license which it gives, and where social 
 organization is vitiated by breeding and countenancing every 
 abnormal interpolation. 
 
 No, my friends, you must not expect us to respect you 
 while such vices of omission and commission stream pend- 
 ent from every limb of your moral, social, and political, 
 organization. 
 
 If you wish our regard, purify the fountains of your social, 
 political, and religious life, of its deadly heresies ; cease to 
 paint your literature in the meretricious colors of the bawd, 
 the blasphemer, the reviler, the hypocrite, and the slan- 
 derer ! and forbid your chief men longer to boast of the 
 low level to which they have reduced your society. 
 
 Some things have been said of negroes in these pages, 
 and said by one who knows them perfectly, and is willing 
 to credit them with every good quality they possess ; and 
 yet, he could not, if he would, concede either their intel- 
 lectual, moral, or social equality, with his own race, let that 
 race sink to what it may ; and, therefore, is not willing to 
 so degrade himself, as to assert the African's capacity for 
 holding the high places of enlightened society, and joyfully 
 inviting him to occupy them — nor so to stultify himself, as 
 to assert the peculiar glutinous mucilage of negro intellect, 
 as spilled out in the legislative hall and the lecture -room, 
 to be the finest lubricator of the philosophic frame and 
 jointwork of society. 
 
 These may all be the media through which are to come 
 those organic changes, so certainly, positively, indicated in 
 American sociology. They may indeed be the significant 
 
PREFACE. XI 
 
 agencies, and yet they are vessels of dishonor, and the 
 penalties attending their U8e will be terrible indeed. At 
 least, we shall be our own judges of these matters, and of a 
 people to whom they relate. In connection with this, it 
 may not be improper to remark, that second to this in sig- 
 nificance of sectional degeneracy, is the occupancy of the 
 lecture-room by females of questionable fame and character, 
 in advocacy of a class of subjects ill-omened at best, in 
 theory, and certainly degrading and unchaste in practice. 
 Drive these female nuisances out! drive them home! if 
 they have any, ye men of the North I If they have none, 
 drive them to the house of correction! and by that much, 
 your society will be purified and elevated. 
 
 Though, as we have said, these things may be the media, 
 through which American society will pass on to its great 
 REVOLUTION — they themselves are not to be revered, how- 
 ever desirable the change may be which they foreshadow. 
 
 Changes, great organic changes ! are certainly ahead. 
 Your own men will overthrow you ; their apparent wealth 
 is not legitimate, it is the price of blood, the representative 
 of civil strife — fratricidal blood — and is the price of our 
 property, wrongfully carried to their credit on their own 
 ledgers. Planted in corruption, it has sprouted up in 
 dragon's teeth, and will yet tear your flesh. 
 
 The question is— ^Vhat next? When? and Who? There 
 is ONE among ye who might if he would. We shall see. 
 
 The Author. 
 
BLOOM AND BRIER; 
 
 OR, 
 
 AS I SAW IT, LONG AGO. 
 Part I. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 INTRODUCTORY. 
 
 THE author of this story of Southern life has hereto- 
 fore always been a reader of romances, and not a 
 writer of them ; as he knows nothing, therefore, of author- 
 craft, beyond a mere appreciation of it in those who do, 
 he deprecates in timely advance the censure of the reader. 
 Now quoth the reader, " Why, sir, do you attempt that of 
 which you are ignorant ? " 
 
 Ah ! that 's the mystery, and quite as great a one to 
 him as to any one — but it is too late now to retrace the 
 step ; the story is already named, and this much of the 
 first chapter already writ; too late now, dear friend, to 
 give advice, good or bad: 't is fate — the story shall be told. 
 
 " As I saw it." Saw what ? Why, the incidents in the 
 life of some young people who were my friends, perhaps, 
 " long ago ; " and could they be written out as beautifully 
 as my memory pictures them to my sad, old heart, they 
 would make a pretty story indeed. 
 
 2 " 13 
 
14 BLOOM AND BRIER. 
 
 " It must be memory, then, at work," quoth again the 
 astute reader, 
 
 ♦* . . . watching o'er the sad review 
 Of joys that faded like the morning dew." 
 
 Yes, perhaps it is ; and if feeling was poetry, there would 
 be many poets ; and if memory could be transferred to 
 paper, there would be many a tenderer, sweeter romance 
 than ever yet was written. All the feeling, sentiment, 
 and inspiration of a story is thus upon me ; but whether I 
 shall ever convey it, or even a part, to the reader, is the 
 thing I have now undertaken. 
 
 " Ah ! happy years ! Once more, who would not be a 
 boy?" 
 
 The gurgling of an old man's memories hath often fallen 
 upon my ear as the softest music ; and if it be to others as 
 it hath been to me, my story will not be all a failure. 
 For, as I have already intimated, it is but to be a little 
 love story, compounded of things familiar to me in the 
 happier days of a bright, young life, long, long ago ; and 
 I have undertaken to write it, well nigh as much for the 
 pleasure of those of my own age as for that of the 
 younger people — for the simple reason that the former, 
 from destroyed hopes, have but little to look forward to in 
 the future, while the latter, from destroyed fortunes, have but 
 little to enjoy in the present; and all that I aspire to, is to 
 beguile a few sad hours of their gloom, by leading them 
 back on the track of life to some greener, more joyous 
 spots. If the times were now as they have been, we should 
 observe the rules of hospitality, and ask at least the 
 younger portion of our Northern friends to participate in^ 
 the symposium we propose; but a wide and deep river of ^ 
 feeling now flows a current of bitter waters between us, and 
 we yield to the necessities of the situation. 
 
 It may be but a melancholy enjoyment we shall furnish, 
 
BLOOM AXD BRIER. 15 
 
 but there is often a certain sweet and peaceful pleasure in 
 the memory of our sorrows, which, at least we hope, will 
 come to the relief of its romance. 
 
 Now, before we set out, we wish it well understood that 
 we have only undertaken to write a love dory -^ not a phi- 
 losophy, a history, nor yet a belles-lettres treatise — in which 
 we will relate many things in our own way, that may or may 
 not have actually happened; not intending to give vouchers 
 for either, nor to be bound down by any foreign rules in 
 the manner of our telling them. In short, the manner is 
 to be personal, and the story to be local; and most that we 
 intend is to write something devoted to "useful mirth and 
 salutary woe," regarding the olden times as we saw and 
 remember them — ay ! and of the present too, mayhap, 
 as we see them. 
 
 In doing this, according to the plan which we have in our 
 mind, it will be necessary to speak of the style of life led 
 by that better class of planters, who early emigrated from 
 older States to those of the extreme South, and gave the 
 true ring to their character as since developed in the 
 political arena and on the battle-field. We, of course, do 
 not refer to those adventurous, roving nomads who followed 
 the path of the wild deer as he retreated from the sight of 
 the human eye and the whistle of the rifle-ball ; but to 
 those who came with their families, their servants, their 
 herds, their books, their genius, their enterprise, and their 
 love of adventure and freshness, for the purpose of building 
 homes and casting their fortunes here. 
 
 In this, no portion of the South was more distinguished 
 than Alabama. Attracted thither by the great fertility of 
 the soil, and the surpassing loveliness of the scenery every- 
 where to be met with, were representatives of the wealthiest 
 and best-bred families of the old Slave States of America. 
 It was not indeed in rfiany instances that the older 
 members of these families had joined in, and followed the 
 
16 BLOOM AXD BRIER. 
 
 " course of empire." Of consequence, those to whom we 
 allude, while generally the heads of families, were yet young 
 in years, free and dashing in their thoughts, gay and daring 
 in their amusements, gallant and chivalric in their con- 
 duct and bearing; and being, as we have just intimated, 
 the representatives and off- shoots of the old colonial 
 aristocracy, bore themselves as such in all the lighter 
 walks, as well as in the more serious relations of life. 
 These, and it is only to these that we refer, were all slave- 
 holders to a greater or less extent. This fact, in connec- 
 tion with the extraordinary productiveness of the soil, 
 afforded them the amplest time and means for those indul- 
 gences, pa^stimes, pleasures, and entertainments which pre- 
 vious habit and education inclined them to. The sporting 
 field and the race-course were their chief out-door amuse- 
 ment, and many kept both their hunters and racers ; while 
 their in-door life was marked by that refined and airy 
 abandon and cultivated intellectuality so peculiarly char- 
 acteristic of the old colonial regime. Many of them had 
 been led to some one of the learned professions, without 
 reference to practising it ; and all of them were familiar 
 with the leading principles of either law, medicine, or 
 state-craft. Discussions, therefore, of a political and legal 
 character, were as striking a feature of the intercourse 
 between themselves, as literature, music, the song, and 
 dance characterized the social relations of the sexes. 
 
 With all such features as were peculiar to aristocratic 
 life, there was yet an almost perfect absence of those frigid 
 and dull formalities which older communities so gen- 
 erally establish for their regulation ; which, though they 
 may not detract from their elegance, certainly contribute 
 nothing to that heartiness and sincerity of enjoyment and 
 graceful ease always felt when not surrounded by embar- 
 rassing conventionalities. 
 
 Indeed, it was English rural life of the olden time, modi- 
 
BLOOM AND BRIER. 17 
 
 fied, elevated, and ventilated by the circnmstances of a 
 new country and freshness of organization, and still inten- 
 sified at some points by the natural influences of slave 
 labor. 
 
 In view of these facts, it may safely be asserted that 
 there was never a people who possessed in greater profusion 
 all the surroundings and sources of joy, brightness, and 
 hope than the early settlers of the Southern States. A 
 climate of rare mildness, yet sufficiently tempered to meet 
 all the demands and ends of health, energy, and intel- 
 lectual development; a soil tliat brought harvests of wealth, 
 almost without labor, to the granaries of the planter; game 
 of a wellnigh fabulous variety and abundance ; and a land- 
 scape whose alternate lines of grandeur and beauty, moun- 
 tain and valley, stream and wide-spread prairie, can now be 
 described by neither pen nor pencil, but- only cherished a.s 
 among the trembling beauties of an old and happy 
 memory — all of these united in giving a swell and rap- 
 ture of emotion that lingers still about the ruined altars 
 of our Southern hearts. 
 
 These sadly glimmering recollections are the soft and dis- 
 tant echoes of a day that 's gone forever, and belong to a 
 once lovely land, and to a proud and noble people now 
 fallen from their high estate ; but whose former glories 
 make up the history of the South. What the future will 
 be, God only knows. 
 
 Suffice it, that no people of modern days have ever 
 held, and none will ever hold again that conspicuously 
 eminent position which the South once did, and fell so 
 gloriously in defending. Her deed was the last red light- 
 ning-flash of the world's dying chivalry ! call it by what 
 other name we may — rebellion, if need be. 
 2* 
 
18 BLOOM AND BRIER. 
 
 CHAPTER 11. 
 
 "An elegant suflBciency, content. 
 Retirement, rural quiet, friendship, books." 
 
 AS we have described the South at large, such was 
 Alabama in especial degree, and such the people who 
 early came to it. 
 
 Of that class of gentlemen whom we have just spoken 
 were two brothers from the State of Virginia, St. George 
 and Robert Brandon — each the head of a small and inter- 
 esting family. They were patrician in birth, and hand- , 
 somely illustrated ail the generous traits of a long line of 
 ancestry distinguished in colonial history. Possessing am- 
 ple fortunes, and highly accomplished in education, they 
 were a pair of as honorable, gallant, gay, liberal, and intel- 
 lectual gentlemen as had ever emigrated from the proud 
 " Old Dominion." 
 
 With large plantations in the middle portion of Ala- 
 bama, near the present town of , their homes presented 
 
 those scenes of hearty hospitality, munificent elegance, 
 and genuine taste which may be easily supposed to pro- 
 ceed from, or to be the result of the feelings, training, 
 and customs of the Virginia gentleman, revelling in un- 
 limited abundance, and feasting his eyes and soul upon 
 the beauty of this wild, romantic country. 
 
 The Brandon neighborhood was known far and wide to 
 be one of the very best in the State, which had the effect 
 of drawing to it all who could get homes in or near it ; 
 and, at the time we write of, presented all the enchant- 
 ments of a fresh and lovely country, standing boldly out 
 from a background of order, peacefulness, and dignity 
 that would have done honor to any of the older States. 
 The very first evidence of which — situated as centrally as 
 
BI.OOM AND BRIER. 19 
 
 possible, for the convenience of all — was the neat little 
 church, with its spire and cross and gothic windows, em- 
 bowered and half concealed by, yet looking out from a 
 grove of majestic oaks that clustered upon the gentle 
 eminence upon which it stood ; and next, the neatly built 
 academy standing near by ; — both of which were well sup- 
 ported by the wealthier classes, but in the benefits and 
 pleasures of which every one participated. The privileges 
 of the church were open to all, and enjoyed by all, white 
 and black, rich and poor, while the facilities of education 
 were generously flung open to those who saw fit to em- 
 brace them for their children; for though the particular 
 limits of society were well drawn and equally respected, 
 there was no dead-line between its circles, and a happier 
 few than they who first enjoyed the intercourse and ad- 
 vantages of this little country academy have never met 
 nor parted. They who live till now, and, mayhap, have 
 grown old since then, and weary too, may despairingly 
 turn back upon the story of life to find one day of equal 
 joyance with their school-time gladness. Its memory grows 
 fresher and greener with its age ; and now, when years have 
 cooled the warm currents of the blood that of erst did flow 
 so softly and so swift, and dimmed the young vision of the 
 eye, ever and anon there come back again the joys, the 
 beauties, and the little loves of the merry boyhood time. 
 Ah ! 't is easy now to see the lovely little girl with the jet- 
 black curls and the coquettish smile, and that little pair 
 with the soft blue eyes and the sylph-like forms, and ay, 
 that other, too, with the nut-brown hair and the mellow 
 hazel eye. We do remember still the noble-hearted play- 
 fellows that went there too, all comrades then. Yet, yet 
 these morning memories must not, cannot last ; for even now 
 the lights of the olden time darken into shadows, and these 
 fresh and dewy visions of the soul bring unbidden tears, and 
 die away into an evening grief. Some low, soft breathings, 
 
20 BLOOM AND BRIER.- 
 
 as from the grave and the slab, now sadly whisper to the 
 heart that they with the soft blue eyes, and she with the 
 dark ones too, have long since passed away. 
 
 Of that little band of brother comrades, many long have 
 slept the " sleep that knows no waking," while others may- 
 hap there are, who still are wandering on in life's long, 
 dreary paths, and to them I now send these greeting lines. 
 
 But let us return to the Brandons, w^ho, we have said, had 
 settled in Middle Alabama, and had surrounded themselves 
 with every comfort and elegance to be obtained in this new 
 country. Being men of handsome fortunes and of a high 
 order of intelligence, they exerted great influence in the 
 public affairs of their new home and State, but were never 
 aspirants to office, seeming always to be satisfied with the 
 superior private position which they enjoyed, and with dis- 
 pensing a munificent hospitality. In private fortune, they 
 went along for years, prospering and to prosper ; when the 
 death of the younger brother, St. George Brandon, cast a 
 gloom over the neighborhood, and threw heavily increased 
 family responsibilities upon his brother Robert. The 
 management of his brother's estate, and the care of his 
 young family, together wdth his own, seemed to engross both 
 his mind and time, while the blow to his feelings appeared 
 to change the entire current of his character. The gay and 
 joyous life which had for years been led by the two brothers, 
 appeared no longer to furnish the survivor its wonted zest, 
 and becoming a more serious man, he gradually fell into 
 other channels of thought and pleasure. 
 
BLOOM AND BRIER, 21 
 
 CHAPTER ill. 
 
 "This bud of love, by summer's ripening breath, 
 May prove a beauteous flower, when next we nleet." 
 
 MRS. ST. GEORGE BRANDON, at the time of her 
 husband's death, had scarcely passed the bounds of 
 youthful life and joyous womanhood, and was the mother of 
 only two children, a son and a daughter — but, while pos- 
 sessing every prerequisite for again entering the gay world, 
 she yet chose to devote herself to their pleasure and welfare 
 — watching with most scrupulous attention their edu- 
 cation, their moral and social culture, and imbuing their 
 minds with the proper ideas of honor, duty, truth, pro- 
 priety, generosity, and affection, which only a mother can 
 successfully do ; but which too many, alas ! neglect. 
 
 There was every arrangement for her remaining at 
 her plantation, which she made as attractive as possible to 
 her children and friends ; and amply was she repaid for 
 these home influences and exertions, in the appreciation 
 in which she was held by them. 
 
 The neighborhood had already grown sufficiently popu- 
 lous to call for a male and female " high school," and the 
 little boys and girls who had long been educated under one 
 roof, by the same solemn and good old pedagogue, were 
 now separated. Henry Brandon, the elder of the two chil- 
 dren, was continued at the male academy until thoroughly 
 prepared to enter college, while Violet, his sister, con- 
 tinued at the female department until she had completed 
 quite a thorough and an accomplished education. 
 
 Mr. Robert Brandon also had but two children, both 
 of whom were daughters, and about the same age with 
 
22 BLOOM AND BRIER. 
 
 their cousins ; and the families still continued in the same 
 unbroken intimacy which had always existed between 
 them. 
 
 In his sixteenth year, Henry Brandon, a tall, handsome 
 youth, free with his purse, gay and mercurial in his dis- 
 position, and pleasing in his manners, was preparing to 
 leave for college, and was new spending a week or two in 
 visiting his young friends of both sexes, wdth all of whom 
 he had ever been a very decided favorite ; but with none 
 more than his cousin Laura, the older daughter of Mr. 
 Eobert Brandon, who in turn, it is but gallant to say, was 
 as great a favorite with her cousin Henry. This preference 
 was a pretty well established fact among the young people 
 of the neighborhood, and rather suspected by Henry Bran- 
 don's mother, who had often very gently cautioned him 
 against it ; but had almost entirely escaped the obser- 
 vation of Laura's parents, with whom he was even a 
 greater favorite than with any other of his friends, though 
 known to them to be wild, reckless, and greatly disposed 
 to fun and frolic. 
 
 The afternoon before his departure for college, his horse 
 was brought to the gate, and in a few minutes he came 
 from his room dressed in the handsomest style, when he 
 was met by his mother and sister. 
 
 "Ah! whither now, my handsome brother?" asked 
 Violet, with a cunning smile playing about her mouth, and 
 a look of mischief in her eye. 
 
 Hesitating but for a moment, he replied, with only the 
 slightest shade of petulance passing over his handsome 
 face, at his scheme of going alone being discovered : 
 
 " I am going to pay my farewell visit to Uncle Robert 
 and his family: any objection, sister?" 
 
 " Why, brother, did n't you know^ that I had expected to 
 ride over with you ? " 
 
 " Yes, something was said about it this morning ; but 
 
BLOOM AND BRIER. 23 
 
 then I did not suppose you cared to do so particularly," 
 smiling as he made the reply. 
 
 " Ah ! well, I will not embarrass you with my presence, 
 as I fancy you have prepared something very pretty to say 
 to cousin Laura, which you do not wish me to have the 
 chance of hearing." 
 
 " No, you little vixen ; I believe I would be willing for 
 you to hear all that I have to say. But Thomas Hunter 
 told me that he would come by this evening, and as I 
 thought you would like to see him alone, I would not pro- 
 pose to deprive you of that pleasure." 
 
 " Ah ! brother, that 's but a lame excuse ; you know he 
 will scarcely come by this evening, when he is coming by 
 to leave with you in the morning." 
 
 " Indeed, he said it was quite probable, when we parted 
 yesterday." 
 
 " Probable — yes, that is a little different. But tell the 
 girls why I did not go over." 
 
 "Certainly," said he, evidently pleased with Violet's 
 resigning her trip so easily. 
 
 Mrs. Brandon had as yet said nothing; but as her light- 
 hearted, happy boy was about leaving the house, she re- 
 marked to him, " Come, my son ; your cousin Laura is 
 one of the sweetest girls I ever knew ; but you must 
 remember that you are soon to enter upon a very arduous 
 course of study, and it will require your i^ndivided atten- 
 tion ; and a little boyish love-scrape would distract your 
 mind more than you might suppose ; and beside, it would 
 be very -displeasing to your aunt." 
 
 "Pshaw, mother, that is some of Violet's nonsense: no 
 danger of my getting into a love-scrape with cousin Laura, 
 more than I have always been in ; and as to displeasing 
 aunt, I can please and displease her sixty times in an 
 hour." 
 
 In a few moments more, the joyous, laughing youth was 
 
24 BLOOM AND BKIER. 
 
 in his saddle, and at half speed was on the way to Mr. 
 Robert Brandon's. A few minutes more, and he was at 
 the gate of "Starlight," the name of his uncle's residence. 
 
 The family were expecting him, and were glad to see 
 him. Spending an hour or so in general conversation, 
 and in receiving some particular injunctions as to his 
 deportment at college from his uncle, he proposed to his 
 cousins to walk in the flower-yard, and for each of them 
 to gather him a bouquet as a keepsake. The proposition 
 was immediately accepted ; and the three were soon busy 
 in strolling over the grounds in search of the choicest 
 flowers. 
 
 Henry succeeded very soon in separating the sisters and 
 getting Laura off" to himself. A conversation quickly 
 sprang up, by a sort of electric understanding, conducted 
 in an undertone, as though in regard to the flowers, but 
 really of a very different nature ; and as she was offering 
 him a half-blown bud, he slipped a little gold ring upon her 
 finger, with the request that she would wear it and remem- 
 ber him. This she tremulously promised to do, as he kissed 
 her blushing cheek; and the three very soon returned to 
 the house together. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 ^' Light winged hopes, that come when hid, 
 And rainbow joys, that end in weeping." 
 
 11 HE ecstasy of Henry Brandon at the success of his first 
 - real love-making with Laura, although they had been 
 svxethearts from mere children, produced a kind of restless 
 joy in his young heart, that wanted room, as it were, for 
 expansion. He grew more and mere nervous, even in the 
 presence of "the smiling girl who had just responded so 
 
BLOOM AND BRIER. 25 
 
 prettily to his professions of love, and in a short while rose 
 to take his leave of the family. Bidding his uncle and 
 aunt farewell, he next proceeded to his cousins ; but in ad- 
 dition to his good-by, gave each a kiss. A tear fell from 
 the eyes of Laura, to which her young lover responded 
 by another shake of the hand, but choked in his second 
 " good-by." He then left the house, and was not long in 
 reaching his own home. 
 
 Laura's mother observed the feeling which she showed, 
 and laughed at her; but the young girl not seeming to 
 recover from it, a gentle reproof had the desired effect of 
 appearing to soothe her. 
 
 Mrs. Brandon, though a very accomplished woman, 
 and possessing many high qualities that were ever in full 
 play as wife, mother, and friend, yet had her strong preju- 
 dices, tinged with a certain unyielding haughtiness, which 
 made persons of a milder character shrink from opposition 
 to her views and opinions. In the instance of Laura show- 
 ing such feeling for the departure of her cousin, an appre- 
 hension was at once excited. The fear of a love affair 
 between the cousins seemed in a moment to rouse an an- 
 tipathy which she never after surrendered. 
 
 The morning after this, all arrangements having been 
 made, Thomas Hunter, a youth of about the same age with 
 Henry Brandon, and the son of Colonel Hunter, a wealthy 
 planter of the same neighborhood, came by in his father's 
 carriage, according to appointment, and the two can- 
 didates for collegiate life left the residence of Henry's 
 
 mother, together, for the town of , where they were 
 
 to take the stage coach. The separation between Henry 
 Brandon and his mother and sister was tender and affect- 
 ing in the extreme — the more so from the consciousness on 
 the part of both that the loneliness of their home would now 
 almost amount to desolation. Mrs. Brandon felt, too, that 
 she was casting upon the temptations of life, a youth who, 
 
26 BLOOM A XD BRIER. 
 
 though honorable in feeling, and gifted in intellect, "was yet 
 strongly disposed to gayeties, and not knowing how far he 
 might be allured to go, felt very great solicitude. In 
 spite of all these affections and anxieties, Henry Bran- 
 don left for college on the first day of September, 18 — , 
 where he remained four years without returning, even on a 
 visit to his mother. In this there was something of the 
 vanity of young collegians, in having to tell how long they 
 have- been absent from home, and of laying up an increased 
 interest for themselves in the hearts of their friends. 
 
 This little romantic sort of conceit, together with a desire 
 to visit the various points of interest in the Northern States, 
 and to observe the — to a Southerner — idiosyncrasies of that 
 people, was the excuse of his not returning South during 
 his vacations. 
 
 His general course at college was somewhat eccentric, 
 and he was often held accountable for his youthful irregu- 
 larities, though always managing to be " excused." Having 
 been thoroughly " prepared " before leaving home, he found 
 no difficulty in maintaining a good "average" in his class, 
 while it left him time for indulging in many reckless 
 amusements, such as college-life affords all opportunities for, 
 to those who are inclined to indulge in them. In this wise 
 he was not distinguished for his accurate scholarship, 
 though universally recognized as possessing a high order of 
 talents, and even genius, both by professors and students, 
 and was so much a favorite with the former, that, as we 
 have already intimated, neither his delinquencies nor 
 offences were ever visited but with the lightest penalties, 
 or excused. By his long, unbroken residence, his profuse 
 liberality, his rich and graceful style of dress, his spirited 
 and pleasing manners, he was as well known to the citizens 
 
 of as one of their own young men, and there were but 
 
 few social entertainments given to which the gay, dashing, 
 and handsome young Southerner was not an invited and a 
 
liJ.OOM AND BIIIEK. 27 
 
 welcome guest. Such were the salient points in the youth- 
 ful and educational history of the hero of our story. Thoso 
 of his manhood we will permit to develop themselves as 
 we proceed. 
 
 Thomas Hunter, his classmate at home and at college, and 
 room-mate there too, was more sedate, more reserved, and 
 far more scholarly in his course and attainments, yet neither 
 so well known nor so popular. During the nearly four 
 years of his absence, he had regularly returned to Alabama 
 during every summer vacation, and from the old family 
 intimacy, and the intimacy at college between himself and 
 Henry Brandon, always made it a point to spend much of 
 his time at Mrs. Brandon's — while Violet, who was growino- 
 up to be a very beautiful and an accomplished girl, may 
 naturally be suj^posed to have been not the least attraction 
 there. 
 
 Though a young fellow of fine common sense and great 
 good -nature, he was thoughtful, poetical, musical, and 
 slightly disposed to sensitiveness ; and, when conceiving 
 himself trespassed upon, had all the spirit of the lion. 
 
 Only a few months before his graduating "commence- 
 ment," he had reason to believe that an insult had been in- 
 tended him, by a classmate, who was much his superior in 
 physical strength, but this fact was no preventive, and illus- 
 trated this feature in his character, by immediately makino- 
 an attack upon him ; and in the course of the rencontre, 
 freely used his knife, and perhaps might have done so to a 
 mortal extent, had he not been prevented by young Bran- 
 don. The latter, immediately seeing the probable result 
 of such an act in a Puritanic old community, who were 
 accustomed to hearing the lie given, and a retort of the 
 accusation as the settlement of the difficulty, advised him 
 to leave for the South without an hour's delay. Adopting 
 the advice, he thus preceded the return of Henry Brandon " 
 by several months. 
 
28 BLOOM AND BRIER, 
 
 CHAPTER y. 
 
 " The proper means of increasing the love we bear our Native Country, 
 is to reside some time in a foreign one." — Shenstone. 
 
 HENRY BRANDON was now in his twenty-first year, 
 and was once again at the home of his wild, uncon- 
 trolled, merry boyhood. The morning after his arrival at 
 the town of , he left the hotel in search of a convey- 
 ance to his mother's, and, while walking along the street, 
 casually met with his old friend Thomas Hunter, accom- 
 panied by a young gentleman, named Campbell, of whom 
 he had heard, through letters from his cousin Laura, as an 
 admirer of Lucy Brandon, Laura's younger sister ; but had 
 never seen him, as he had become a citizen since his 
 absence, as a young lawyer from Virginia, and by invita- 
 tion of Mr. Robert Brandon, who was an early friend of 
 Campbell's father. 
 
 The joy of the two young college-mates can easily be im- 
 agined, while it would be difficult to describe, which young 
 Campbell appeared equally to enjoy from sympathy. 
 
 The latter directly excused himself, and left them 
 to themselves, who, after an hour or two of running 
 conversation, separated, with the understanding that 
 Hunter should spend the following day with Brandon at 
 his mother's. 
 
 " Yes," responded Hunter to the proposition, " and ride 
 over to your uncle Robert's in the afternoon, as a surprise 
 to him ; ay ! boy, what say you to that f " 
 
 "Excellent idea, Tom; and let me add — to my fair 
 cousin Laura, too." 
 
 " Of course — that 's understood, for what in the name of 
 Satan would you wish to surprise an old gentleman for ? " 
 
 " All right ; I see you are beginning to learn the nature 
 
BLOOM AND BRIER. 29 
 
 of such things better than I once feared you would. 
 Suppose, too, you bring your friend — Lucy's friend, 
 Campbell, with you." 
 
 " Well, I shall propose to him to go out, and I presume 
 he will accept." 
 
 The friends now parted with these understandings. 
 
 Brandon very soon procured a conveyance, and was on 
 his way home. 
 
 After an hour's drive, he was at the gate of "Buckhorns," 
 a name given to it by his father. The meeting between 
 himself and mother and sister was joyous, tender, and 
 affecting. 
 
 The intelligence of his return soon went from the house 
 to the " Quarter," and from the Quarter rapidly spread 
 through the plantation; when all the negroes, both old and 
 young, left their employments and almost flew to the house 
 to meet their long -absent young master. No authority 
 could have restrained them, even had it been attempted ; 
 but so far from it, drivers, foremen, men, women, and chil- 
 dren all hurried in promiscuous flight to the house, and there 
 the scene was at once ludicrous, affectionate, and touching. 
 The young master, who had been a great favorite with all 
 classes in his boyhood, but with none so much so as with his 
 father's negroes, discovering that they were coming en masse 
 to see him, met them in the yard, and but a short time 
 elapsed before he was surrounded by largely over a hundred 
 negroes of all ages and sexes, striving to get to him. Last 
 among those who had heard the intelligence of his return, 
 was one who had acted as his first body-servant in the 
 time of their youthful boyhood, and his chief-of-staff in 
 general, now grown though to be a tall, sinewy, fine-looking 
 fellow — black as jet, but with an eye, face, and figure 
 that denoted intelligence, cunning, courage, and quickness. 
 " Sam Brandon," the name that he was universally called 
 by, as a distinction from other Sams on the place, and from 
 3* 
 
30 BLOOM AX D BRIER. 
 
 his former association with his young master, now came 
 pushing his way through the crowd, regardless of whom he 
 ran over, and reaching Henry, embraced him, and with 
 tears of joy in his eyes, screamed out, "Oh ! my dear young 
 master, is I got you agin in my own arms, safe an' soun' as 
 when you lef me ? " 
 
 " Yes, Sam, back once more, and all right," replied 
 Henry, sympathizing in the gladness and emotion of his 
 boyhood servant. 
 
 " I is glad of it. Lord knows I is, and all the devils an' 
 ole Satan hisself can't git me way from you no mo'. Mass 
 Henry." 
 
 This meeting between the returned young master and 
 the family slaves, in the shaking of hands, congratulations, 
 and other demonstrations of pleasure, were truthful and 
 sincere — as such always were, in the olden time, before 
 that mixture of New England yea/oi/.??/ and prurient fanati- 
 cism had intervened to throw its sombre shadows of dis- 
 trust and dislike between the happiest laborers and the 
 kindest employers of the modern world. They finely 
 illustrated, too, the patriarchal character of African slavery 
 as existing in the South, at the base of which there was a 
 strong feeling of protection, defence, and safety on the one 
 part, and a determination to meet the whole obligation on 
 the other, and a burning, hissing refutation of the whole- 
 sale slanders published and circulated by feeble writers 
 and hypocritical religionists against the welfare of the 
 South and its domestic peace. 
 
 We will take the liberty of here remarking that while 
 a blind, jealous, and relentless feeling may succeed in 
 mangling and destroying the laws and established institu- 
 tions of a country under the alleged sanctions of religion, 
 yet that same religion will never hold it guiltless. No 
 ideal standard of right is permissible of being brought up 
 in extenuation of a 2:>alpably evil result. Religious efforts, 
 
BLOOM AND BRIER. 31 
 
 as all others, are judged of by their fruits, to which reward 
 and retribution are accordingly measured out. 
 
 A few years since the laboring population of the South 
 was exclusively composed of a strong, but helpless, affec- 
 tionate, confiding, and a heathen race of people, trans- 
 planted from one of the remotest quarters of the earth : in 
 this the hand of the Almighty was plainly discernible, as 
 they had been under the ban of Heaven in their own land, 
 from the beginning of time ; and only in this beautiful, 
 genial land had they been relieved from it, and had here 
 received the first and only spiritual light they had ever 
 received, or — now — likely to receive, let the extent of it 
 have been what it may. There was affection, reliance, and 
 a complete capacity for obedience on the one side — interest, 
 good feeling, and authority on the other ; and these consti- 
 tuted the entire base of his feeble civilization. Now, that 
 these persuasives, relations, and obligations have been re- 
 moved, it is but fair to infer that he will again relapse 
 into his native barbarism, or soon become extinct. 
 
 This position requires no argument in its support ; the 
 statistics of the West Indies, Liberia, and his already re- 
 lapsed condition among ourselves, point with a terrible 
 significance to the probable path of the negro ; and with 
 a scofiing derision of the pseudo-philanthropy of men, 
 when directed against the laws of nature and the manifest 
 appointments of Heaven. 
 
 The negro, by the unauthorized scratch of a pen, on the 
 part of one who, in the fleeting time of his glory and con- 
 ceit, reckoned upon his right so to use it, has been turned 
 loose upon society, in all his necessary ignorance and na- 
 tive licentiousness, and legislated into being an equal, 
 when every possible circumstance has placed upon him the 
 indelible sign of inferiority and degradation. 
 
 As a pet of the Government, he will, by the necessary 
 operation of all human law, become a disturbing element, 
 
32 BLOOM AND BRIER. 
 
 an aggressor. Neglected, he falls. This is the dilemma of 
 those who wish to use him as a political influence — a tool. 
 
 If there was any evidence necessary to establish the 
 loathsome falsehood of those who professed to be guided by 
 philanthropy and religious duty, it would be in the well- 
 known fact that every possible bitterness and hatred has 
 been infused into his heart toward his old master, and his 
 only real friend, by the teachings of these same men since 
 his emancipation. With his changed relations has passed 
 away nearly all the good feeling of which he was the cause 
 and the object : his slavery to us, and our care of and obli- 
 gations to him, developed some of the finest traits in South- 
 ern character. 
 
 The caducity of a people — a country — a government, 
 may be very correctly measured by the legislation which 
 lessens the aggregate of the generous sentiments. For, as 
 lightly as the assertion may be estimated, it is neverthe- 
 less a truth, susceptible of demonstration, that good feeling 
 enters largely into the intellectuality of a people, and their 
 capacity for permanent endurance in history. As matters 
 now are, it will approach the inspiration of a miracle to 
 save the republic, and bear it up through this sea of calam- 
 itous legislation. The lightnings of tremulous rage al- 
 ready glimmer upon the skies, and foretell the gathering 
 storm, which, when full grown, may at any moment leap 
 from the clouds, and sweep from the earth the last vestige 
 of the o\di regime forever. 
 
 Nature, so we will call it, may so respect her own good 
 work ; and so mysteriously direct her laws, as to check a 
 people and a government from following to the bitter end 
 the path that so clearly leads to national destruction ; and 
 prevent them from becoming an accursed blot upon the 
 records of the earth. But we fear. Nous verrons. 
 
BLOOM AND BRIER. 33 
 
 CHAPTER VL 
 
 "Youth on the prow, and pleasure at the helm." — Gray. 
 
 11H0MAS HUNTER and Mr. Campbell, in accordance 
 with the appointment made the day before, had come 
 to pass the day with Henry Brandon, expecting to accom- 
 pany the latter on a visit to his uncle that evening ; and 
 having insisted upon Violet accompanying them, she had 
 consented. The horses had already been ordered, and 
 were now standing at the gate in charge of " Essex," the 
 pompous negro-servant who was to accompany them ; and 
 all of them were ready at least half an hour before Henry 
 Brandon, upon whose movements they were now waiting. 
 Hunter and Campbell were leisurely sauntering up and 
 down the long gallery enjoying a fresh cigar, as Violet, 
 also ready, joined them; but stopping occasionally and 
 looking impatiently toward her brother's room, she nerv- 
 ously switched her skirt with her whip. The time had quite 
 arrived when it was proper that they should be on their 
 horses, and again casting one of her impatient glances 
 toward her brother's room, she turned to Hunter, and said : 
 "I congratulate you, Mr. Thomas Hunter, and you, Mr. 
 Campbell^ too, upon being better representatives of your 
 sex than my exquisite brother, who I suppose is engaged 
 in selecting a neck-scarf of suitable color to his com- 
 plexion." 
 
 " You are disposed to be severe upon your brother. Miss 
 Violet Brandon," replied Hunter, "and I feel in duty 
 bound to defend him against your causticity, by refreshing 
 your memory with the fact that my young friend is to meet 
 with a fair cousin this evening, and the necessity for his 
 attire being faultless." 
 
34 BLOOM AND BRIER. 
 
 " There might be something in what you say, sir, were 
 she not a cousin." 
 
 "Methinks I've heard of that frail barrier being over- 
 leaped, young lady.*' 
 
 " Come, Mr. Hunter, you must not hint such dangerous 
 things to my brother, or he would endeavor to put them in 
 practice on the very first occasion. I know his old love 
 of adventure, and I have heard it has been said by some 
 very wise person — though I do not profess to know — 
 that the boy is father to the man. Not only that, I expect 
 to have a personal use for his services for the next ten 
 years myself" 
 
 " Ah ! pitiless maiden, why wring our hearts by such 
 cruel threats ? " replied Hunter, his eye laughing with fun. 
 
 ''Had I known, sir, that my w^ords would carry pain to 
 the heart of any one, I might, perhaps, have been less 
 plain in their use, even while equally resolute in my pur- 
 pose." 
 
 " I thank you for even that — " 
 
 At this moment Henry Brandon joined them, when 
 Hunter said to him that he was greatly pleased with his 
 presence, as he had just been engaged in a most desperate 
 game of cut and thrust in his behalf. 
 
 " Yes, brother, I have been performing one of Shaks- 
 peare's tableaus, Patience on a monument." 
 
 "Ah ! well, I hope you smiled at your grief." 
 
 " No, I did not." 
 
 " Then I suppose you told your love ? " 
 
 " Told my love ? No, sir ! I have none to tell ! " 
 
 "You only acted the simple part of looking silly on 
 your monument, then ? " 
 
 " Yes, that is about the idea I have of my conduct, if it 
 will please you for me to say so." 
 
 "Far from it," replied Hunter; "she has been play- 
 
BLOOM AND BRIER. 35 
 
 "Never mind, Mr. Hunter, I will excuse any further 
 accusations of myself, or defences of my delinquent 
 brother." Then turning to the latter, she said : 
 
 " Well, brother, you must really permit me to admire 
 the justice you have done your toilette — or that your 
 toilette has done you : you are really quite a handsome 
 young fellow, and I shall take great pleasure in exhibiting 
 you to the kinsfolk of "Starlight" — indeed, gentlemen, as I 
 shall the three of you ; since no Eastern princess did ever 
 have a more handsome escort. Not even Lalla Rookh." 
 
 " Nor did the vale of Cashmere afford one Violet Bran- 
 don," added Mr. Campbell. 
 
 " Thank you, and bravo ! Mr. Campbell. I shall 
 recommend you to Miss Lucy Brandon as a most proper 
 Ferramorze." 
 
 " You place me under too great obligations, unless you 
 will signify to me wherein I can perform some knightly 
 service in your behalf." 
 
 • "Rest satisfied, Mr. Campbell, with what I shall do for 
 you. I should fear the personal consequences to myself, 
 of taking you in my service in any capacity, while another 
 has a better claim to it. But, brother," said she, again 
 turning to him, " Mr. Hunter had but insinuated, as you 
 came out of your room — or from your toilette, I should 
 say — that you were preparing to captivate cousin Laura. 
 What think you of that idea? Absurd, is it not ? " 
 
 "No, not so terribly absurd as some things I have 
 heard of; that is, if Laura is as nice a girl as she promised 
 to be the evening I saw her last. Do you remember the 
 time, Violet? ha! ha! ha! I robbed you of tlmt ride, but 
 you may go this time." 
 
 " Yes, and I think it quite probable that you had better 
 have let me go with you then." 
 
 "Why so, my mysterious and lovely little sister?" 
 
 "Oh, never mind for the reasons now — may tell you 
 
36 BLOOM AND BRIER. 
 
 some other time. But as to cousin Laura being as nice a 
 girl as formerly, I can say to you that she is, and improves 
 in something every day she lives. She is the prettiest girl 
 of us all, and is even sweeter in her character an;i her 
 mind than in her person. So, my dear brother, if you are 
 to be governed by her looks and her qualities, I shall look 
 for a certain vain young collegian to fall into trouble very 
 soon." 
 
 "Trouble! pshaw! I want a great deal of just such 
 trouble." 
 
 " Very well ; but let me suggest that we ride, as I am 
 anxious to see my handsome cavalcade under way." 
 
 " I believe we are all ready now, and fully prepared for 
 exhibition, as we are certainly as handsome by reciprocal 
 compliments as the two Yankees were wealthy by swapping 
 knives." 
 
 "Allons" said Henry Brandon. 
 
 At this proposition they left the house, and went to 
 their horses, where Essex, with "Sam Brandon," who. 
 had been taken immediately into service, stood holding 
 them. As Hunter came up to him for the purpose of get- 
 ting that one which Violet was to ride, he quickly and in 
 an undertone said: "Mass Tom, I wishes you to ride 
 with Miss Violet." Without appearing to hear the words. 
 Hunter's heart responded to the spirit of them, but felt 
 bound to give the place to Mr. Campbell, and, as they rode 
 off, fell back with Henry Brandon, Essex and "Sam 
 Brandon " bringing up the rear. The arrangement did 
 not altogether please Essex, but he had too great polite- 
 ness to give any evidence of his displeasure. 
 
 As we have undertaken to give an outline of Southern 
 life in several of its coteries, we must be allowed frequent 
 allusions to the negro servants belonging to them; and 
 just here we will say that not the least injury which their 
 (so-called) freedom has inflicted upon them, is the destruc- 
 
BLOOM AND BRIER. 37 
 
 tion of that pride — aristocratic feeling — which tliey en- 
 tertained for the superiority of their own master's family 
 over all others. This identification of themselves with 
 the dignity and standing of their owners was a very 
 decided elevation to them, the elements of which they did 
 not have within themselves, and which their own race can 
 never furnish. 
 
 Offensive as the arisiocYniic planter of the'South was to 
 the democratic farmer of the North, he was yet not to be 
 compared in aristocratic feeling to his body-servant or his 
 carriage-driver ; nor to him, either, in his dislike of "Yan- 
 kees " — the latter term being ever used as one of contempt, 
 and is so to this day — growing out of the fact universally 
 asserted that they knew nothing about negroes, and made 
 the stingiest, hardest masters. 
 
 In the present instance, Essex was proud of his young 
 mistress ; and desired that Hunter should ride with her, as 
 he thought him the handsomest, wealthiest, and most libe- 
 ral young gentleman that visited her: of Campbell he knew 
 nothing, and was therefore disposed to ignore his attentions. 
 
 From a feeling of identity of welfare, all the better and 
 more intelligent classes of negroes, throughout the whole 
 slave period, were the most inveterate match-makers for their 
 young mistresses ; and discussed with the utmost freedom 
 and sharpness the pretensions of any gentleman to their 
 hands, and as far as possible imitated them in their own 
 courtships. But woe be unto the young fellow who had the 
 hardihood to ride up, who was not known to possess his 
 full share of darkies ! 
 
 A certain female writer of Northern notoriety, by se- 
 lecting some exceptional characters, both black and white, 
 and by adding to the extravagance of her pictures all 
 the sentimental malignity of ignorance and fanaticism, 
 did more to slander the domestic life of the South than all 
 the crazy-headed Garrisons et al. together. Theirs were but 
 4 
 
38 BLOOM A XD BRIER. 
 
 the mad ravings of the bull at the baiting, and most men 
 laughed while uttering the unceasing cry of " pan y toras ; " 
 but hers was the shriek and wail of distress from a woman, 
 and all men rushed to the scene of pain. 
 
 This same woman has since had the disgusting effrontery 
 to make some sort of home in the orange groves of a land 
 which she assisted to destroy, and as we suppose, aspires 
 to drink in fresh inspiration for a slanderous page ; but 
 orange groves can furnish no inspiration to such a mind. 
 "When no slander can be uttered her pen cannot move: the 
 gigantic malignancy of her first falsehood has fortunately 
 paralyzed all future efforts of her wretched brain. She 
 should now devote the remainder of her life to penance for 
 the wrong she has done; and even one life is insufficient 
 for an adequate repentance ! With these remarks, we leave 
 her disgusting pen to English Reviews. 
 
 CHAPTER yil. 
 
 "And both were young, and one was beautiful." — Byrox. 
 
 THE gay cavalcade was now sweeping swiftly and gal- 
 lantly across the beautiful country which lay in the 
 direction of Mr. Robert Brandon's. Essex had been thor- 
 oughly studying the aesthetics of the expedition, from the 
 moment he had first received the order in regard to it ; 
 and, thinking it proper, in consideration of the arrival of 
 his young master, to invest it with all the augustness possi- 
 ble, had ordered even a third subaltern into his service, in 
 order that each gentleman should have his particular 
 groom. This third party, who, in some patronymical sig- 
 nificance, responded to the name of " Jacko," was a full- 
 
KI.OOM AND BRIER. 39 
 
 blooded negro ; and rejoiced in nothing more than his love 
 of laughter, in which he now frequently indulged with a 
 rather loud "yah, ha!" to the great annoyance of Essex, 
 who was desirous of conducting his end of the party with 
 the utmost gravity and decorum. Henry Brandon had not 
 discovered the extent of Essex's retinue, until, upon the 
 occasion of an extra loud " yah, ha! " from the unrestrained 
 risibles of Jacko, when, turning to him, he said, " Why, 
 Essex, you have all the boys from the quarter with you." 
 
 "Oh, no, sah! Jacko, he b'longs to me anyhow, and I 
 jest brung 'long ' Sam Brandon ' on you' account." 
 
 " That 's all well ; but Uncle Robert will think we are 
 coming to storm his house." 
 
 " I speck not, sah ; he 'most always does see me have 
 Jacko, and 'Sam Brandon' is you' servant: oh, no, sah ! 
 thar ain't too many of us." 
 
 " Very well ; the more the merrier on a frolic." 
 
 Violet and Campbell were riding together, and carrying 
 on a lively conversation, the latter appearing more pleas- 
 ant and more at his ease than she had ever seen him ; 
 while Hunter and Henry Brandon were but a short dis- 
 tance behind, feeling all the joyousness of youth again, as 
 they galloped over the broad prairies through which they 
 had so often rambled together in boyhood. 
 
 It was in the early autumn of the year ; and as the 
 golden sunlight rested on the broad landscape, it seemed to 
 soothe its exhausted summer life to a soft repose, while the 
 gentle breeze fanned the brow even more lightly than a 
 young maiden's hand, and gave the scene a mystic sadness, 
 which was yet a joy to the heart, and swelled it with 
 sweetest emotions. 
 
 The merry little party had now reached the outer de- 
 mesnes of "Starlight;" and as Essex opened the large 
 double gate, the two daughters of Mr. Brandon — Laura 
 and Lucy — were seen off at some distance to the right, a3 
 
40 BLOOM AND BRIER. 
 
 if taking an evening walk among the great oaks of the 
 enclosure, which even partly concealed from view the stately- 
 mansion that stood in their midst. 
 
 The first impulse of the young ladies upon seeing the 
 party, and not recognizing the persons, was to return to 
 the house ; but as they appeared to have inclined a little in 
 the direction of themselves, they at once turned and came 
 meeting them, still unable, however, to comprehend the 
 nature of so uncommon a cortege, though recognizing 
 Violet as one of them. 
 
 Henry Brandon now rode in advance, when Laura, in 
 spite of the change in appearance that had taken place, at 
 once recognized him ; and clapping her hands in expression 
 of her joyous astonishment, exclaimed, even before speak- 
 ing to others, or appearing to observe their aj^proach : " Oh, 
 cousin, cousin ! is this Henry Brandon ? " 
 
 Henry, feeling the same pleasure, addressed her in return 
 — in imitation, too, of her own gladness : 
 
 " Cousin, cousin ! is this Laura Brandon ? " 
 
 Lucy, in this while, had received her friends — Laura, as 
 we have said, not appearing to be conscious of their pres- 
 ence. 
 
 Henry Brandon had dismounted from his horse before 
 these words were clearly out of his mouth, and, holding 
 his cap in one hand, had seized hers with the other, and with 
 a half-comic, half-serious expression, knelt before her, and 
 pledged his knighthood and eternal fealty. While in this 
 pretendedly imploring position, he discovered the little 
 gold ring still upon her finger, which he had placed there, 
 four years before, in the flower-yard, on the eve of his 
 leaving for college ; then immediately, kissing her hand 
 and rising, said : 
 
 " Fair lady, as I have pledged my knighthood to thy 
 noble service, wilt thou now, as cousin, permit me to place 
 the seal of my affection upon thy ruby lips ? " 
 
BLOOM AND B II I E R . 41 
 
 Laura, in this while, had recovered from the surprise 
 of this eccentric galutation, and laughingly addressing 
 her young friends, asked them to pardon her not speak- 
 ing to them before; then smilingly turning again to her 
 cousin, who still held her hand, replied : 
 
 " Ah ! no, sir knight ! I will reserve that favor as future 
 guerdon of thy truth, and some noble deed of valor." 
 
 But no notion had he to thus be foiled by the mock 
 gravity of her refusal, but instantly placing his arm 
 around her chiselled neck, gave her smiling lips a gentle 
 kiss. Oh! that fatal kiss! 'twas then there went from 
 earth to heaven a soft, low tone of music ; and still it lin- 
 gers on the harp-strings there, in echo to the pledge of a 
 heart's first love. 
 
 After going through these mock heroics, Henry Bran- 
 don turned to Lucy, whom he had not yet spoken to, and 
 addressed her in the fullest terms of natural affection and 
 pleasure. In the mean time Campbell had found his way 
 to her side, and was enjoying the odd mixture of extrav- 
 agance and antique gallantry which young Brandon had 
 60 unexpectedly seen proper to indulge in. 
 
 In reply to his hearty and good-natured salutation, 
 Lucy said to him, as she received his hand : 
 
 " Cousin, I am of course delighted to see you, after so 
 long an absence ; but this wicked humanity of mine de- 
 mands an apology for so decided an expression of prefer- 
 ence as you have just exhibited for Laura." 
 
 " Ah ! my lovely cousin, this is not a moment for rhet- 
 oric, speeches, expletives, or explanations, but one for 
 affectionate inquiry after health and welfare, loves and 
 hopes, and for asking you, too, to never again use so cold 
 and earthly a word as humanity when speaking of so per- 
 fect an ideality of all beauty as yourself — say celestiality. 
 Yes, as you are really more beautiful, cousin, than I even 
 remembered you to be — " 
 4* 
 
42 BLOOM AND BRIER. 
 
 "Come, cousin," she said, interrupting him, and at the 
 same time laughing; "stop, I pray you, or I shall think 
 flattery the chief fruition of your college life. Was the 
 mastery of that art embraced in your curriculum ? " 
 
 " Indeed it was not, but truth was highly enjoined ; and 
 that being my inheritance and vernacular too, I have only 
 had to cultivate a native virtue ; yet, even now my tongue 
 can only lisp, in feeble numbers, nature's rich profusions 
 in yourself Never mind all of this, however," he added, 
 as he saw her about to interrupt him ; " but let me ask 
 why thy anger at the supposed preference for thy sister ? 
 Is she unworthy?" 
 
 " Indeed, no, not by any means ; she is worthy any man- 
 ner of homage ; but yours was so unexpectedly peculiar, 
 as to make it quite remarkable : you seemed to think these 
 old oaks surrouudinof <ome old enchanted castle, and Laura, 
 a noble damsel held in vile captivity." 
 
 " Ah! coz, thou mayest charge thy jaundice to the green- 
 eyed monster. Didst thou suppose that I, Henry Bran- 
 don, gent., after years of absence, could renew the fealty 
 of my youthful heart after the humdrum style of your 
 man of clay ? Moreover, coz, wilt thee permit me to say 
 that thou seemest amenable unto that particular law of 
 thy gender whereof the poets have so often sung, and con- 
 cerning which Shakspeare was moved unto saying : 
 
 " 'Trifles light as air 
 Are, to the jealous, confirmation strong 
 As proofs of Holy Writ.' " 
 
 At this unlooked-for imputation, Lucy's eyes flashed 
 with a merry fire ; but the flighty accuser gave no time 
 for a reply, by moving quickly again to Laura, who was 
 conversing gayly with Campbell, and said : 
 
 " Pardon me, fair lady ; but, on meeting thee in this 
 ancient grove, some mystic shadow did flit athwart my 
 
B L () () M A N I) B R I E R . 43 
 
 vitiiou ; and thy sister's ready wit or instinct supplied the 
 phantom with a name — perhaps a prophecy — " captiv- 
 ity." Now let the future tell who the captive or the cap- 
 tor is," and, with affected reverence, cap in hand, bowed 
 gallantly ; then laughingly turned to the amusing scene 
 transpiring at his side, in which Hunter, somewhat at a 
 loss as to what he should say or do during the extrav- 
 agances of Brandon, had pretended to have somehow 
 caught the gallant infection, and, kneeling at Violet's feet, 
 was repeating the words of Virgil, " Omnia, vincet amor, 
 et nos, cedamus, araori," while she, with an affected as- 
 sumption of dignity and doubt, replied : " Men have died, 
 and worms have eaten them, but not for love." 
 
 Hunter then rose, and, swearing by St. George and the 
 Dragon that he was ready to perform her least or greatest 
 pleasure, announced himself prepared to put his protesta- 
 tions to the proof, and was willing to undertake all the 
 labors of Hercules — bring her the golden fleece, or to 
 fling a girdle round the earth in forty minutes — if these 
 heroic feats could extort one smile from her coral lips, or 
 one beam of love from her lustrous eyes. 
 
 "Glorious! Hunter; most glorious! You have neither 
 forgotten your early college lore, nor your youthful warmth 
 of heart, and must certainly have been recently engaged 
 in reviewing your classics, and begun with Ovid's * Art of 
 Love.' But see thee, mine ancient friend — I most sol- 
 emnly protest against thy victimizing mine unsophisticated 
 country sister ; for even now, while assuming such indif- 
 ference, she is half disposed to yield to thy siren words." 
 
 All parties then joined in the merry laugh, when Hunter, 
 speaking to Campbell, said: 
 
 " Now, Mr. Campbell, comes your turn. We two have 
 declared our knightly devotion to our ladies, and called 
 the weird spirits of this ancient wood to witness our truth 
 and noble purpose ; and yet there is another damsel, all 
 
44 BLOOM AND BRIER. 
 
 forlorn, whose charms are still without a suitable de- 
 fender." 
 
 Campbell, pleased with this timely impudence of Hunter, 
 gladly accepted the banter, and bowed low and gracefully 
 to Lucy, when she, in return, pronounced him knighted, 
 and accepted his championship, as she touched his shoul- 
 der with the little wild-flower she held in her hand ; then 
 screaming with uncontrolled laughter, said : 
 
 " Well, if father has witnessed any portion of this veiy 
 unique and eccentric meeting, he will certainly take out a 
 commission of lunacy against us, and we richly deserve it." 
 
 They now walked in the direction of the house, paired 
 off, as may be easily conjectured. The horses being in 
 charge of the servants ; Essex, with his corps of assistants, 
 had witnessed the whole scene, with their senses ravished 
 with delight ; but he, too proud to confess his want of com- 
 prehension, waited, with a most knowing look of silence, 
 until some one else should speak. 
 
 " Essex," at length spoke Sam Brandon, " ole feller, did 
 you see into all dat talk?" 
 
 " To-be-sho I did, nigga ; it means when dey is all gwine 
 to marry." 
 
 " Ah, ha ! dat 's so, I speck. Well, it looked mity fine ; 
 an' Mass Henry, he 's gwine to git Miss Laura. He always 
 did had her for a sweetheart when he war a boy ; an' he 
 beat em all to-day, for he got de kiss, if dat 's any sign. 
 Mass Tom Hunter, he seem to git along purty well, too, 
 wid Miss Violet. Mr. Camell, he seem to fight behine. 
 Who is he, anyhow, Essex ? Whar is his niggas?" 
 
 " Well, I jes don't know. Dey say he is a big lawyer, 
 and makes a heap o' money. If he do, he 's dog-gone 
 stingy wid it, for 1 never sees him spen' any. He ain't got 
 no niggas 'bout here, dat 's certain, I knows. But yes, sah, 
 Mass Tom, he is certain to be some of we darkies' master, 
 and dat very soon : he been comin' to our house a long 
 
BLOOM AND BRIER. 45 
 
 time; and didn't you see how Miss Violet looked at him 
 dis eveniu' ? An' it 's jist what I wants. Miss Violet will 
 den be de riches' lady in all dls neck. Mass Tom hisself 
 is got close on to a hunderd niggas, and dey is mos'ly 
 young; an' everything else accordin'. An' if old mistiss 
 will gin me up, I wishes to be dey carriage-driver." 
 
 " Ah, ha ! Well, dat 's all good enuff ; but I myself 
 specks to foller Mass Henry, from dis out, to the eend of 
 the wurld, ef he wishes to go dar. I 's dun wid de cotton- 
 patch arter dis. But, Essex, I likes de way de young 
 gentlemen done dis evenin' ; an' ef they kin make de 
 young ladies marry 'em, les us try to do de same wid de 
 house-gals ; for nigger gals ain't as good as white ladies, 
 and ain't as hard to be kotch, no how." 
 
 " Dat 's so, Sam Brandon. Agreed den : we '11 try em 
 dis night." 
 
 With conversation of this sort, the negroes entertained 
 themselves while in charge of the horses — thus demon- 
 strating their natural love and reverence for white people, 
 and particularly their masters, during their slavery, and 
 their strong proclivities to imitation, which, together, were 
 the source of their original civilization, and of which they 
 are now prevented from availing themselves, by being 
 forced into an antagonistic position. 
 
 Mr. Brandon had caught a glimpse of the last scenes 
 of the meeting in the grove, and not exactly recognizing 
 the parties, was almost disposed to think his daughters 
 beside themselves ; and, taking up his hat and cane, came 
 meeting them as they were on their way to the house. On 
 his nearer approach, he was much surprised, as well as 
 pleased, at finding one of the parties to the uncommon 
 proceedings his own handsome young nephew : after greet- 
 ing him most kindly and cordially, he very naturally in- 
 quired as to the nature of the apparent confusion which 
 he had seen from the house ; but when explained to him, 
 
46 BLOOM AND BRIER. 
 
 appeared to enjoy the sport of it equally with the young 
 people themselves. 
 
 On reaching the house, they were met by Mrs. Bran- 
 don, a matronly looking, but very elegant lady, who, after 
 a most gracious welcome to the nephew of her husband 
 and his friends, conducted them into one of her large and 
 elegant parlors. The conversation soon became general and 
 animated, as there was no gentleman more happily capa- 
 h\e of putting a company at its ease than Mr. Brandon, 
 or who more highly appreciated the mirth, joyousness, and 
 humor of young persons, or entered with greater zest into 
 the spirit of their intercourse. Mrs, Brandon possessed 
 an almost equal felicity in her own deportment, with only 
 a slight touch too much of stateliness — a very great draw- 
 back to true politeness. 
 
 "Why did you not come over this morning, and spend 
 the day with me, my young friends-^ and you particu- 
 larly, Henry ? " asked Mr. Robert Brandon. 
 
 " Well, sir, I was scarcely more than through with grat- 
 ifying the curiosity of mother and Violet, before Hunter 
 and Mr. Campbell came: we then concluded that we 
 would ride over and make you a short visit, with the 
 understanding that it would not relieve me of the respon- 
 sibility of spending a day with you on private account, 
 very soon." 
 
 " Yes, uncle, that is a correct account, so far as stated," 
 said Violet ; " but the visit, though not intended to be a 
 regular, or a long one, would yet have been much longer, 
 had brother not consumed more than a proper share of 
 the time in the extra preparation of his toilette. I must tell 
 on him, as he shall not appear here so much more hand- 
 somely dressed than any of us, without letting you know 
 that he took a part of your visit to prepare himself, and 
 an unfair advantage of us." 
 
 " Ah, Violet, none of your tale-telling." ^ 
 
BT.OOM AND BIIIER. 47 
 
 " No, I was only giving uncle the cause of the neces- 
 sarily short visit which we pay him." 
 
 " That 's all right. Now go to the piano with the others, 
 while uncle and I have a few words on personal account." 
 
 Violet now left them, and the uncle and nephew spent 
 most of the hour that they remained in private conversa- 
 tion. Some one or other of the girls alternately played, 
 while all of them joined in the singing. Very soon 
 Laura played a waltz, by arrangement, when Hunter 
 and Violet, Campbell and Lucy, went through the mazes 
 of that elegant but voluptuous dance. 
 
 It was now drawing nigh time for them to leave, and 
 Violet made the proposition. Mr. Brandon then pleas- 
 antly insisted upon their staying until he could have a 
 bottle of wine, saying that " a spur in the head is worth 
 two in the heel," and that they therefore could more than 
 make up the lost time. " What say you, Violet ? " 
 
 "Oil, certainly, uncle, as these young gentlemen would 
 never forgive me if I refused that proposition." 
 
 " Nor forgive yourself, Miss Violet," said Hunter. 
 
 A very choice old bottle was soon brought in, when Mr. 
 Brandon remarked : " My young friends, you may esteem 
 yourselves especially favored by the opening of this bottle : 
 it is of a very old vintage, and I have only a few left — 
 and only introduce it upon what I esteem great occasions. 
 I have not brought one out since the visit to me of Wash- 
 ington Irving." 
 
 "Ah!" said Campbell, "I did not know that he had 
 ever been this far South." 
 
 " Yes, several years since he made a flying sort of trip 
 through this country, and he made Henry's father and 
 myself an afternoon visit, in company with a party of 
 
 gentlemen from , just to look at the scenery, which 
 
 was then far more beautiful to the eye than now." 
 
 " It must indeed, then, have been very beautiful." 
 
48 BLOOM AND BRIER. 
 
 "It most truly was as lovely as human eye ever beheld." 
 
 The wine was now opened, and Mr. Brandon proposed 
 the health of his returned nephew. 
 
 The party soon left the house and mounted their horses, 
 Henry Brandon promising to return in a few days and 
 make a full visit. 
 
 After they were all on their horses, Mr. Brandon put in 
 a claim for the company of young Campbell, saying that, 
 as they had paid him so short a visit, they should at least 
 be willing to make a fair division. The proposition was 
 so natural, and so perfectly accorded with the young gen- 
 tleman's own feelings, that he could not conceal his incli- 
 nations to accept — when Violet spoke, saying: 
 
 " Mr. Campbell, I sympathize with you, sir, and give you 
 my permission to remain, although we had promised our- 
 selves the pleasure of your company at our house this 
 evening." 
 
 Campbell thanked her, and accepted. 
 
 CHAPTER YIII. 
 
 " Odds life ! must one swear to the truth of a song ? " 
 
 AS it will not be a difficult thing to suppose that Henry 
 Brandon allowed but a very few days to intervene 
 between his first and second visit to Starlight, we will 
 pretermit all circumlocution, and state, in few words, that 
 on the third day from that of the first, he did truly make 
 this second visit ; and, further, that it will not be a violent 
 presumption to suppose that this promptness was, to a very 
 great extent, attributable to the attractiveness of the beau- 
 
EI.OOM AXD RHIER. 49 
 
 tiful Jauglitcrs, rather than the — certainly-many excel- 
 lences of the uncle. " • 
 
 He had been a little expected even tlie day hefore; hut 
 the very slight disappointment— ifsuch it was — had'only 
 appeared to increase tlie cordial interest ivith ^v!lich he 
 was no^y met by his uncle. Hi.s aunt too receiyed him 
 with a very atTectionate graciousncss-all of which was 
 very especially agreeable to the young gentleman, as there 
 was a certain little secret hope in his breast which this 
 reception seemed to flatter. But to Laura his visit was a 
 perfect delight; and the feeling conveyed itself to his heart 
 without the help of words; while to Lucy it was all that 
 he desired it. There may be some breach of confidence 
 on our part - who may be supposed to know these thin..s — 
 in exposing them; yet we hope to be forgiven, promTsin-. 
 to tell no more secrets out of season. ° 
 
 Ho^vever, that our readers may have a better compre- 
 hension of matters as they shadow themselves out -but 
 not intending to betray any feets reposed to our keepino— 
 we must let it be known that, during Henry Brandon's 
 absence at college, he had regularly corresponded with 
 Laura; but from fear of detection, probably, he had 
 not been more than ordinarily tender, except upon a 
 few occasions, which Laura had always guarded him 
 against, telling him that her letters from him were always 
 of BO much interest to the family generally, they had to 
 pa.^ round to every member of it -never omitting to say 
 at the same time, that his pretty speeches were very plea's^ 
 ing to her. In this way. each of them had kept up the 
 
 It thT •" ;:• 'r "'■"' "-^ '"^^-^ ^^''^ -- ^l' by 'hem 
 at the time of his leaving for colletre 
 
 _ This fact, together with the eccentric, but arnusin.. greet- 
 
 formality which might otherwise have marked their inter- 
 course after so long an absence. No feeling of estrange- 
 
50 BLOOM AND BRIER. 
 
 ment impressed itself on their passage from youth to matu- 
 rity, and they were as easy as when children together. 
 But while their conversation was replete with wit, repar- 
 tee, and innocent pleasantry, there was a certain concealed 
 gallantry in his attentions to her, which was unobservable 
 to others, but perfectly understood by the sweet and loving- 
 hearted girl. And what young girl, indeed, did ever fail 
 to detect an intended gallantry, however well disguised 
 from the common gaze? 
 
 For the first two hours after his arrival in the morning, 
 Mr. and Mrs. Brandon remained with him, and, quite as 
 much as their daughters, appeared to enjoy his sparkling 
 conversation. Mr. Brandon then left the room, and was 
 very soon followed by Mrs. Brandon, leaving the young 
 people to themselves. 
 
 " Ah ! now, girls, we are all alone, and I want you to 
 tell me everything you have done, said, or thought for the 
 last four years — in particular, all that you have done, 
 said, or thought concerning myself." 
 
 " Your demands are heavy, cousin," said Laura. 
 
 " Yes, and very conceited, too," said Lucy. " You cer- 
 tainly think we have been pining over your absence." 
 
 " Well, certainly ; and I expect you have pined over 
 many worse matters." 
 
 " That we may have ; but then we have had the pleasing 
 novelty of fresh sorrows occasionally." 
 
 " Then my conceit is in advance on that point : so let 
 me inquire what else has engaged your thought — love, 
 music, French, or cooking? in other words, has aunt pre- 
 pared you for the kitchen or the parlor? What are you — 
 fine ladies, or useful ones ? " 
 
 "I," said Lucy, laughing, "have been educated for the 
 parlor, while Laura's taste has led her into the culinary 
 department. You know there had to be one fine lady of 
 us. But why the question, cousin ? " 
 
BLOOM AND DRIER. 51 
 
 " Well, first, because, since eating in College Commons 
 for four years, I am thoroughly of the opinion that pro- 
 ficiency in the noble art of cooking is of far more im- 
 portance, and a far higher accomplishment, than music, 
 French, or painting — unless the French be used to learn 
 the number of dishes that can be made of four eggs, and 
 how elegant a dinner can be got up with six." 
 
 "I comprehend you now, and think yourself and Laura 
 will grow to be admirable friends — your 'Admiration;' 
 as I think she has not read a word of French for a year 
 past but with reference to some * new dish.' " 
 
 " I am delighted with cousin Laura, in advance." 
 
 " Lucy has left out one practical accomj^lishment of 
 hers, and as they are so few, I must give her all the advan- 
 tage of it — she is the stocking-darner for the whole fam- 
 ily, cousin Henry, and some weeks has a small mountain 
 of work around her," replied Laura. 
 
 " That is very well, so far as it goes, Lucy ; but still I 
 have to regret your inaptitude to kitchen duties ; for if I 
 read the stars aright, as they conformed last night, thou 'It 
 have some early occasion so to employ thyself, even ere 
 thy sister will." 
 
 " Indeed ! then tell me, thou ancient Magus, what signs 
 you have been reading, or what the signs you profess to be 
 governed by." 
 
 " The stars, Lucy ; the stars ! for by what less than them 
 would I, or any one, dare to read the fortunes of so fair a 
 girl?" 
 
 " I cannot say ; but see that, in addition to being one of 
 the most accomplished flatterers, you also profess to be an 
 astrologer, and when failing to reach your object by the 
 cunning insinuations of the one, like the first great tempter 
 of our sex, you change your form, and make approaches 
 through the weird problems of the other." 
 ^^"Even so, fair Jady ; and your own insight and solu- 
 
52 BLOOM AND BRIER. 
 
 tions seem themselves to pass the bounds of human reason, 
 and by them almost break the charm of my skill. Yes, 
 you are right — I do profess to a knowledge of that sacred 
 lore, the arcana of which are only intrusted to a chosen 
 few ; and most truly, wherein my human faculties fail to 
 inform me of future events, the spirits teach me — the 
 stars of heaven." 
 
 " Wonderful, indeed, but rather difficult of belief" 
 
 "Ah! had you seen that which last night I did see, as 
 the planets met upon the dividing line, you would surely 
 select more cautious terms of expression." 
 
 Laura, who had not joined in the conversation, but sat 
 listening to the ludicrous jumble, at length said : 
 
 " Most learned cousin, you must either tell us of what 
 you saw in this starry realm of yours, or permit us to doubt 
 the truth of your mystical inspiration." 
 
 " Ah, sweet lady, it is one of the sternest laws of our 
 solemn brotherhood, that we shall bear with our truth 
 being impugned, before we may expose the workings of 
 our holy league. Silence is the spell under which w^e live. 
 I may not, cannot tell thee that which thou wouldst know." 
 
 Laura, evidently desirous of some sort of answer, ban- 
 teringly said to him : 
 
 " Then, Sir Astrologer, we will pronounce your secret 
 league and mystic lore both apocryphal ; but, somewhat to 
 redeem your order from so vile a charge, suppose thou 
 tellest us of those whose fortunes were last night appointed 
 in this assemblage of royal arch-spirits." 
 
 " I may not even tell thee that, fair lady ; yet again I 
 may : that, in our last festal hour, each star did fling a 
 gentle beam to that which with it had revolved in the 
 magic ring. More methinks it forbidden to reveal." 
 
 "Cousin, thy doubts and chopped expressions rather 
 dub thee necromancer than wise astrologer, and such we 
 will surely call thee, too, unless thou revealest more of thy 
 
 r 
 
BLOOM AND BKIER. 53 
 
 charmed assem])lagos and their strange incantations. Canst 
 thou not even tell the number that made up this mao-ic 
 circle?" 
 
 '* Lady, in refutation of so base a charge, I will say that 
 we work with no odd numbers ; and will even further tell 
 thee, even with the certainty of bringing down upon me 
 the wrath of those who have been my friends, that we hold 
 our meetings when eclipses are, and send down to mortal 
 hearts the aspects and conjunctions by the shooting stars; 
 and these are all made manifest at the proper hour. But let 
 it now be told, by mortal tongue, that thy own lovely form 
 did, last night, highest float in the shadowy throng, \vhere 
 all were paired, and all did hail thee queen of happy for- 
 tune." 
 
 "Indeed?" 
 ''Indeed." 
 
 " Now, since thou hast forfeited all thy favor, pray tell 
 me, thou fallen spirit, what bright star did welcome mine." 
 " Ah ! mine earthly tempter, let me break, forever, the 
 sacred charm that would have borne the enchanted two, 
 together, through the span of time, and tell thee that mine 
 did float with thine. But now we are as others are. Our 
 fortunes fell, and fate itself did fail, when I told thee of 
 these sacred cabalisms ! " 
 
 Lucy, catching the glimmering meaning of what Henry 
 Brandon had been so artfully aiming at, clapped her 
 hands, and, breaking out in a hearty laugh, said: "Oh, 
 cousin ! read the enchantment backward : that will restore 
 the charm. There is an old couplet which runs as follows: 
 
 ♦♦'The incantation backward she repeats, 
 
 Inverts her rod, and what she did, defeats.' " 
 
 But, before young Brandon could reply, his uncle and 
 aunt entered the room, and found the young people in 
 ecstasies of laughter. 
 6* 
 
54 BLOOM AND BEIER. 
 
 " Ah," said Mr. Brandon, " you young people appear to 
 be very joyous. Suppose you give us old ones the benefit 
 of your mirth ? " 
 
 " Oh, father," said Lucy, " cousin Henry has returned 
 among us a wiser person than any of his old-fogy ances- 
 tors ; and, if he progresses through all his life as he appears 
 thus far to have done, will deserve canonization." 
 
 " Come, my daughter, I think you endeavoring to exhibit 
 your wit. You know I always protest against what young 
 women are pleased to call sarcasm: they are dangerous 
 qualities at the best, and young women only succeed in 
 making a failure -in its use, and themselves more or less 
 ridiculous, and always avoided." 
 
 " Oh, father, you are too severe ; I did not — " 
 
 " No, Uncle Robert, cousin Lucy was only jesting," said 
 Henry. 
 
 "Yes, I only meant a jest, in regard to our college cousin 
 discovering to us his proficiency in the long obsolete sci- 
 ence of astrology, and that he had even calculated our 
 nativity since his return." 
 
 " You are wrong, my daughter, in the choice of your 
 words — a nativity is only cast at the hour of birth." 
 
 "Well, I dare say; but as he had such a jargon of 
 phrases, I thought it about as well to use one word as 
 another." 
 
 " I am glad of your explanation, Lucy ; but your man- 
 ner appeared a little brusque, as well as your words a little 
 rough. But, Henry, we are not yet all so old as to be 
 insensible to the warmth of Promethean fire : suppose you 
 repeat to us the results of your communion with the stars." 
 
 " Excuse me, sir ; the nonsense will not bear repeating : 
 I only indulged in it for the amusement of the girls — of 
 myself, rather, by rousing their curiosity, which, if they 
 are like their Yankee cousins, they will go a great wav to 
 gratify." 
 
BLOOM AND IJ U 1 E K . 55 
 
 ** Thauk you, sir ; no Yankee cousin for me, if you 
 please ; and, besides, cousin, that is an unhandsome opin- 
 ion of yours. But one thing I do thank you for, and father 
 will also, I think, as he very often says that Laura is the 
 finest girl in the whole country, and the most admired, but 
 has never yet broken a single heart, nor even had one cer- 
 tain, acknowledged beau ; and tells her the prospect is that 
 she will always remain a spinster. Is it not so, father?" 
 said she, addressing him. 
 
 " I believe I have jokingly used such words." 
 
 "Your fears may now be at an end, sir, for cousin 
 Henry has promised her one, by the conjunctions of the 
 planets, as he calls it — certainly they cannot make mis- 
 takes — and was so generous, too, as to — " 
 
 " Come, Lucy," suddenly interrupted both Laura and 
 Henry, the latter reddening with the deepest rose-flush, 
 " don't repeat our mischievous nonsense ! " 
 
 " Oh, well, certainly not, if it occasions a mutual blush ; 
 but I really did not look upon it as such nonsense ; that 
 part of the affair seemed very fine to me." 
 
 It is but just to Lucy to say that she had begun to tell 
 of the prophecy in regard to Laura and Henry in all good 
 feeling, having, in the winding up of her cousin's strange 
 jargon, conceived the idea that he was insinuating a future 
 union between himself and her, and at once approving it, 
 was about to disclose the /a/iciju^ prophecy, just to see how 
 the real proposition would be received by her father, if it 
 should ever be made. 
 
 " Ah, Henry," said Mrs. Brandon, who had not before 
 spoken, and at once catching at the idea which he and 
 Laura had unitedly interrupted Lucy in disclosing, " I 
 had little thought to see so wild a boy turn sentimentalist 
 in his manhood ; and none but the purest romancist ever 
 dreams of admiring a cousin. I am so matter-of-fact as 
 to render all such arrangements very distasteful to me." 
 
56 BLOOM AND BRIER. 
 
 Lucy saw, by this reply of her mother, that lier sup- 
 pressed remarks had been perfectly comprehended, and was 
 quite astonished at its evident significance and sharpness. 
 
 Laura, seeing it also, saw^ proper to say, while she blushed 
 very deeply, " You need feel in no danger of having your 
 opinions disturbed, mother, for our astral cousin did him- 
 self break his. own magical conjurations, by revealing (as 
 he says) the story of our confluent fortunes, and thus I 
 am still left to pursue the solitary pleasures of spinster- 
 hood." 
 
 Mr. Brandon now turning to his nephew, said, " Come, 
 Henry, walk with me into the library. I presume you 
 have had enough of this ' woman-kind ' for an hour or so." 
 
 And the two left the parlor together for the place ap- 
 pointed. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 "Let us consider the reason of the case; for nothing is law, that is not 
 reason." 
 
 WE have elsewhere said that the two brothers, Robert 
 and St. George Brandon, were educated men, and gen- 
 tlemen of high culture in the arts of polite society. Even 
 when participating in the sports peculiar to the country at 
 the time of its first settlement, the chase, the infant race- 
 course, and the gay meetings of the social circle, they still 
 were students, and each had his select law, political, and 
 literary library, which occupied much of his time. 
 
 After the death of his brother, Mr. Robert Brandon sud- 
 denly and entirely gave up all sporting of whatever kind, 
 and divided his time between his books and attention to 
 his increased business responsibilities ; and at the time, of 
 
BLOOM AND BKIEK. 57 
 
 which we are writing, he had already been pressed into the 
 service of the State, by having had conferred on him several 
 positions of honor, and was at the immediate time one of 
 the " electors at large " on the Whig ticket, Mr. Clay and 
 Mr. Polk being candidates for the Presidency of the Repub- 
 lic, and was especially preparing to meet Colonel Haywood, 
 a speaker of very great ability on the Democratic ticket, 
 for Mr. Polk. The canvass had been already opened, and 
 very soon Mr. Brandon was to visit a distant part of the 
 State, which would occasion him to be absent for several 
 weeks. This was his reason for wishing to have all the 
 private conversation possible with his nephew^ as the latter 
 was already within a few months of his majority, and 
 thought it proper to give him some general account of his 
 property. 
 
 After explaining these matters to him in general terms, 
 he cursorily advised with him as to his future personal 
 course, saying to him that " the law, apart from its being 
 a profession, was the highest finish to the education of a 
 gentleman, and in all countries the chief high-road to 
 distinction — particularly is this the truth in a republican 
 country. It may be a little sophomorean, perhaps, to 
 bring up the instance of Rome ; but the history of its 
 leading men, during its most eminent period, is so aptly 
 in point, and so frequently referred to, that you must par- 
 don me for directing your attention to it. There were but 
 two roads to fortune and fame in that republic — one of 
 which led through the army, the other through the law. 
 If I mistake not, in the time of Cicero — and certainly 
 the most brilliant period of her history, and the culmi- 
 nating point of her glory — all men of prominence, whether 
 engaged or not in the law at the time, yet had been, at 
 some previous time, distinguished as advocates : Caesar 
 had been, ^lark Antony had been, Pompey also, I think, 
 and indeed all who figured at the time of the Triumvirate. 
 
58 BLOO>f AXD BRIER. 
 
 These facts are almost literally true in English, and in 
 our own short history. As I have said, this is particu- 
 larly the truth in representative governments, where all 
 questions of importance come before the people for discus- 
 sion and judgment, in some manner or other, either as to 
 their practical bearings or constitutional features. The 
 correctness of these assertions is generally undeniable, 
 and, for peculiar reasons, applies with especial force in 
 the South, rendering it important that every man of intel- 
 ligence, whether his fortune and taste invite him to the 
 study or not, should thoroughly inform himself in all mat- 
 ters of political economy and constitutional laAV, even 
 should he see proper to go no farther." 
 
 Young Brandon replied to his uncle, that he had always 
 intended directing his attention to the law, but had never 
 attributed to it that importance in the affairs of the South 
 with which he seemed to invest it ; but, in the face of this 
 intention, he had to confess to some disrelish, on the score 
 of what had been represented to him as its pettifoggery. 
 
 "Yes," replied his uncle, "that objection can be easily 
 urged against it by young men of fortune ; yet you must 
 remember that the abuses which attend upon any profes- 
 sion are not legitimate objections to it — they are as bar- 
 nacles upon the bottoms of great men-of-war." 
 
 " Then, uncle, as you look upon the profession in that 
 light, would it not be better to lay a scientific foundation 
 by attending some one of the law-schools ? " 
 
 " Your general idea is correct, but subject to a specific 
 qualification, which is, that the law-schools of this country 
 do not sufficiently confine themselves to the common law, 
 but involve and complicate their instructions with local 
 constructions of constitutional law ; and these sectional 
 idiosyncrasies of interpretation are already exerting a 
 prejudicial influence on the peaceful relations of the North- 
 ern States with the Southern." 
 
BLOOM AND BRIEK. 59 
 
 "Perhaps I ilo not clearly comprehend you. Will you 
 give me a more definite idea of vour meaninir?" 
 
 "I can give you a clearer general idea of it, but have 
 not the time to pursue the subject in its ramifications : for 
 instance, I mean that the Hamiltoxian, or high Federal 
 style of opinion, prevails in the Northern schools, while 
 the Jeffersoxiax, or ultra State -sovereignty doctrine, 
 rules in the Southern. These theories differ widely in 
 practical results, and will assuredly lead to sectional col- 
 lisions before the lapse of many years ; indeed, they have 
 nearly done so already, in the case of South Carolina and 
 the Government." 
 
 " It has never occurred to me that the sections would 
 ever come in serious sectional collision on the score of 
 constitutional law ; but I have thought that this fanatical 
 excitement they are beginning to get up at the North, in 
 regard to African slavery, might lead to some trouble." 
 
 " Yes, even that movement is remotely based upon the 
 teachings of their schools. But the case of South Car.)- 
 lina is a substantial premonition of what is to come. Mr. 
 Calhoun still pushes the doctrines of Mr. Jefferson to the 
 farthest extent, while Adams, Webster, and others as stren- 
 uously advocate the Hamiltonian-federal doctrine. Mr. 
 Calhoun's centrifugal doctrines, carried out to their legit- 
 imate results, are destructive of all government ; while Mr. 
 Vv'ebster's idea of the centripetal forces of government are 
 equally destructive of our federative system. Where to 
 go, and how far to go, with each of these doctrines, so as 
 to preserve the republic, and save the only institution 
 upon which the prosperity of the extreme South entirely 
 depends — at this time, at least — is the great obligation 
 resting upon Southern intellect. We have some certain 
 mental and social features, in the South, of which it is 
 difficult to trace the lineage, but which we know are well- 
 iiigh as dangerous and destructive, from resentment, as we 
 
60 E LOOM AND BRIErv. 
 
 know the correlatives to be in the North, from fanaticism. 
 The Northern people, even in their very best intellect, fur- 
 nish nothing that can be called statesmanship. The leaders, 
 equally with the people, are ever crossing their own paths. 
 We know not what to expect from them, but have every 
 thing to apprehend. But, to return to the subject directly, 
 I would advise you, from this antagonistic condition of 
 the law-schools, to enter the office of some one of our own 
 best lawyers, so that, if you are to imbibe any prejudice, 
 it may be a home prejudice ; but be as guarded as possible 
 against all of them. We shall not want provincial preju- 
 dices in the terrible day that is coming, but sentiments, 
 ventilated by a thorough national spirit, and having for its 
 object the preservation of popular liberty untinctured of 
 personal license, and the welfare of all the sections without 
 bias in the distribution of favors." 
 
 Continuing this style of conversation for some time 
 longer, with a gradual return to matters of a more personal 
 character, they ended their interview at the library, and 
 returned to the drawing-room. 
 
 Mrs. Brandon was still sitting there, seemingly engaged 
 with her needle, and as young Brandon thought, with her 
 face wearing something like an expression o^ ungraciousness^ 
 while Lucy was sitting near a distant window with a book 
 before her, but scarcely to be said had been reading. An 
 evident uneasiness had grown up from some quarter. Laura 
 was not present, and as he did not ask, her absence re- 
 mained unaccounted for. But Henry, while sensitive and 
 in some respects timid, had a certain sort of boldness which 
 vivacity of intellect always furnishes, and, though young, 
 was too well skilled in a knowledge of the human heart 
 to allow himself to be trampled down so soon. Seating 
 himself near his aunt, as he entered the room, in some 
 measure he renewed the conversation which had been inter- 
 rupted by going to the library with his uncle. 
 
BLOOM AND BRIER. 61 
 
 "Aunt," said he, *'a very interesting subject had some- 
 how most inadvertently suggested itself just as I left the 
 room, and I do not feel willing to leave it in the rather 
 hedrabbltd condition we had placed it in." Lucy imme- 
 diately drew nearer to her mother, with a shy sort of fun 
 twinkling in her eye, as the conversation was again in- 
 troduced, which slie had conie out of rather more ahabhily 
 than any of the party. "I think you remarked that 
 no one but the purest romancist ever admired a cousin. 
 I think, madam, you have forgotten the fact that the sub- 
 ject, so far from being looked upon from a sentimental 
 point, has long engaged the attention of the astutest min- 
 isters in the Cabinets of Europe. The heaviest matters of 
 state are made to turn on the marriages of cousins; even 
 the balances of power between their governments' often 
 turn on these alliances. Indeed, the nobility of Europe 
 marry no one else but cousins. Now, aunt, I dare not say 
 that this romantic question, as you call it, possesses any 
 especial interest for myself; but then, just stepping on the 
 threshold of joyous manhood as I am, I have some few 
 twitchings of the nerves, if not of the heart, at seeing the 
 broad and beautiful field of my observations lessene°d in 
 any of its boundaries. I may yield you the specific ques- 
 tion of matrimony with my cousins, but cannot give up the 
 general one — by no means, madam." 
 
 Mrs. Brandon, not able to suppress a smile at the evi- 
 dent ingeniousnessof the young gentleman, and being very 
 clearly pleased with his dashing but respectful elegance 
 of ^manner, said to him, in an agreeable tone of voice : 
 "Henry, I think you must aspire to a foreign embassy, 
 you seem so well skilled, or informed, in the diplomacy of 
 foreign courts, in regard to matrimony at least." 
 
 ^ " No, madam ; as yet I have looked no higher than the 
 diplomacy of domestic courts.'' 
 
 The ambiguity of this remark again brought the slightest 
 6 
 
62 BLOOM AND ERIER. 
 
 appearance of a shadow over her handsome face, and she 
 made no reply. Lucy then made the remark, that "though 
 it \Yas the general practice of royal and noble families, it 
 was always between cousins who were strangers to each 
 other ; and therefore there was but slight social resem- 
 blance, and a perfect obliviousness to the few or many 
 faults of each other ; and consequently but little more harm 
 of any sort could grow out of the custom there than from 
 marriages between strangers. On the other hand, she did 
 not think that any considerable harm could grow out of the 
 system in this country, even if the question was left open, 
 and recognized without prejudice; from the fact that so very 
 few would ever take place, for here, families generally lived 
 near each other, and their young members were familiar 
 with each other's /oi^/e-s, failings, faults, and infirmities, of 
 all kinds, and presented to each other but few inducements 
 to love-making." 
 
 "Most grandly delivered, my pretty cousin; but me- 
 thinks a little involved in its meaning — something of the 
 blow hot and blow cold about it." 
 
 " Ah, you need not be so spicy in your remarks, cousin," 
 said she, laughing. "I was not personal." 
 
 " Of course not, as I am vain enough to believe that, if 
 you had desired to be, you could not have so expressed 
 yourself" 
 
 Laura entered the room at this moment ; and, as if by 
 some strange common consent, the subject was dropped, 
 and conversation assumed a general tone, until the servant 
 entered and invited her mistress to the dining-room. 
 
 At the table, conversation still kept up its gay and lively 
 character, not a moment being allowed to flag. After 
 several courses had passed, Henry spoke to Laura, and 
 asked if they were indebted to her skill for any part of the 
 sumptuous repast they were enjoying. 
 
 " Yes, everything of this kind at Starlight is in some- 
 
B L O O M A X D B R I E R . 03 
 
 wise connected or associated Avitli me, as I have for more 
 than a year now, held the high office of chief butler. 
 Mother gives general directions, and I have the details 
 executed. I begin to think that slie has made a lifetime 
 api)ointment of it, nolens volens on my part. I have some- 
 times been a little remiss, just to see if it would affect my 
 involuntary tenure ; but it did not, and it still clings to me 
 as the old man of the sea did to Sinbad." 
 
 " I can congratulate you upon the honorable post, and 
 for the very handsome manner in which you perform its 
 duties ; and by way of encouragement will promise to 
 make you happy with my frequent presence. Four years 
 at college has just put me that much behind in matters of 
 the table ; and I expect to devote a good deal of time to 
 catching up. What say you to my dividing time between 
 yourself and Violet ? " 
 
 *'0h, I think the arrangement would be delightful in- 
 deed. I could please such a boarder to the ninth part of 
 a hair." 
 
 "Perhaps I do not understand your figure, Miss. You 
 do not certainly mean to leave that — " 
 
 " Certainly not, sir," she replied, laughing ; " I meant to 
 express perfection." 
 
 " Pardon, the misapprehension ; but perhaps, as I hear 
 no echo to your welcome, I may be letting my gustatory 
 enthusiasm bear me ahead of an invitation. AVould it not 
 be better that I get one from some higher authority than 
 that of the chief cooh, to attend the cuisine of Starlight? 
 What says Lady Brandon ? " archly turning to his aunt as 
 he referred to her. 
 
 " Certainly, Henry, make the table of * Starlight ' your 
 own, just as you did in your boyhood; but with the under- 
 standing that you never forget that I am Aunt, and not 
 Lady Brandon, or anything else — that you are to be my 
 nephew, and not a ceremonious visitor. Now, sir, is not 
 
64 BLOOM AND BRIER. 
 
 that a sufficiently welcome invitation ? " saying this, as 
 Henry thought, with rather 2l forced smile. 
 
 He was something at a loss to comprehend the meaning 
 of his aunt's various postulates ; but choosing not to ob- 
 serve any probable peculiarity in them, merely replied: 
 
 " Most assuredly, madam ; nothing shall be otherwise 
 than as you say, unless you yourself shall see proper to 
 make a change." 
 
 In spite of his assumed indifference to the meaning of his 
 aunt, his face flushed as he made this reply. Lucy, observ- 
 ing it, said to her mother, that cousin Henry would be 
 qualified off from them, even before he became fully do- 
 mesticated again. 
 
 " I cannot see why," she answered ; "as my requests are 
 very simple, and my invitation very cordial ; they are, at 
 least, so intended," smiling very pleasantly both at Henry 
 and her daughters, as she said this. 
 
 The shadowy apprehensions of a possible love-affair 
 were certainly indicated by the words of Mrs. Brandon, 
 which Mr. Kobert Brandon perceiving, said to her that 
 she and the young people were clearly getting into a tangle 
 wdiich might result in a Gordian knot. 
 
 This remark, instead of making matters easier, only in- 
 creased the little embarrassment that was brewing. He had 
 more than half intended it, and was now enjoying his pre- 
 tended mistake in the laughing eye and blushing cheek of 
 Laura ; but asked pardon for his unseasonable interference 
 in their imbroglio, and begged to withdraw. 
 
 Henry Brandon laughed heartily, and, resolving not to 
 become embarrassed, said in an undertone to Laura, while 
 his uncle was speaking : 
 
 " Cousin, there is something here suggestive of an unde- 
 fined event, wherein you and I are to act a part. Shall we 
 attempt to name it now, or leave it to the wiser fates? " 
 
 At this bold question, a look of innocent confusion came 
 
B L () O M A N D B R I E R . 65 
 
 over the beautiful face of the happy girl, as she quickly 
 replied, in the same undertone, "To the fates." 
 
 Henry, now addressing his aunt, asked if he might 
 propose a sentiment to the girls, to which she of course 
 assented. He then raised his glass, first to Laura, and 
 then to Lucy, and said, " Every heart to its earliest hope." 
 All treated it as a jest, and drank to the sentiment. 
 
 But oh! the terrible truth of many a jest! and there 
 was a strange truth in all their jests that day, that threw 
 their long shadows into many a distant year, which only 
 faded all away in the still twilight of eternity, with the 
 sad, sweet life of one who sank beneath the sorrow of a 
 broken heart. 
 
 In spite of the many little glimmerings of a comiiirf 
 tempest that had showed themselves that day, Henry Bran- 
 don was delighted with his visit ; and as he rode over the 
 beautiful prairies, on his return home, at half-speed, and 
 with a merry heart, there constantly rose before him the 
 half-sad face of Laura, as she said, " To the fates." He 
 was happy at the vision, but wondered why it came. It 
 was the first star of evening ; and the light was soft and 
 lovely, as it danced away off on the distant sky ; and the 
 first, too, of a long and gloomy night, which was to darken 
 his own sad way through many troubled years. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 The dog, to gain some private ends, 
 Went mad, and bit the man. 
 The man recovered of the bite. 
 The dog it was that died." 
 
 A MILD Indian-summer sun was shedding its mellow 
 evening light upon the landscape, and gave to nature 
 that look of sad and sweet repose which ever drapes the 
 
66 BLOOM AND BKTER. 
 
 dying year in this Southern hmd. The soft October breeze, 
 \Yhile floating along, seemed as gently to breathe its life 
 away, as doth despairing love when ^Yhispering the low 
 music of a last farewell. Oh! who hath never felt the 
 charmed influence of its strange romance ! and not felt, 
 too, that even human life itself was an angel's happy 
 dream wandering off" from heaven! 
 
 As the careless young rider dashed wildly over the wide 
 prairie, with the swiftly moving wind sweeping out his long 
 black hair, and fanning his high, broad brow, there came a 
 beauty and a freshness to his thoughts and feelings such as 
 he had never known before. There was no method in their 
 passing, nor was there any action of the mind, but rather 
 the unfettered communings of the soul with the spirit of 
 nature, as it lay nestled in the chambers of his noble 
 heart; these commingling their lights and shadows into one, 
 threw out a bow of promise to his gaze that told of love, 
 of hope, of joy, and ambition, and shed the bright, but 
 fleeting light through which his life would pass. There 
 were colors there, that told of death and sorrow too, but 
 these he did not see, and knew not of. Ah ! who doth not, 
 in later years, remember the blindness of a boy's eye, and 
 the boldness of a boy's heart, and loveth not the sweet 
 memory too ? 
 
 Such were the visions, the hopes, the feelings, and con- 
 fused emotions of Henry Brandon, in his wild, half-speed 
 ride from Starlight. 
 
 The sun had just sunk down, and the first gray twilight 
 had swung its mystic mantle over the lawn that lay spread 
 out before the gate at " Buckhorns," as Henry rode up. His 
 arrival there was seen by a gang of little negroes at the 
 *' quarter," all of whom, according to the old custom, had 
 assembled to sing their parting evening song, and came at 
 full speed to open it. As soon as they discovered it to be 
 " Mass Henry" — of whom they had just heard for the first 
 
B L O O M A N I) n K I E R . 67 
 
 tirae in their lives — they raised a yell of the wildest de- 
 light, and eaoh increased his speed as far as possible, with 
 the great ambition of being first to meet him. 
 
 In the times long ago, when these gates were in sight of 
 the " quarter," they were most closely watched by the little 
 negroes, who were trained to do so by the old ones having 
 them in charn:o, and no one could approach without find- 
 ing a little fellow there ready to open it and welcome him, 
 who, in turn, seldom went without his recompense in the 
 shape of a sevenpence, or a piece of tobacco for "granny." 
 But this is all over with : who the loser will be, let the 
 future tell. 
 
 As the gate was opened for Henry, the whole gang of 
 little fellow\s crowded round his horse, to tell him " howdy: " 
 some were fortunate enough to get his hand, while others 
 got him by the feet, and others still had to content them- 
 selves by calling from the outside of the crowd : " Here I 
 is, Mass Henry; howdy do, sah?" and gratuitously inform- 
 ing him : " I is well, sah ; how^ is you ? " Henry Bran- 
 don, the master, the protector, the friend, the servant of 
 a hundred slaves, appeared quite as delighted with this 
 meeting together of himself and little dependants as they 
 did themselves, and answered every question it was pos- 
 sible for him to reply to, in the style of their own garru- 
 lous speech. 
 
 ^ As they followed him to the house, closely packed about 
 his horse's head, sides, and heels, each one was relating, in 
 the highest key-note of his voice, some wonderful perform- 
 ance and qualities of his o^vn, which were, of course, disputed 
 by his Highest friend whenever he could get time, in the 
 periods of his own narrative, to do so ; but all united in 
 promising to do some considerable service for "Mass 
 Henry "before he went away again. Happy little crea- 
 tures, many of whose lives were destined to end in the 
 most squalid misery, through the mistaken philanthropy 
 
68 BI.OOM AND BKIER. 
 
 of those who came aud prochiimed themselves good friends, 
 and sang them siren songs of liberty! 
 
 The old of the people, as they wander along in friend- 
 less freedom, will sigh and weep again for the old master's 
 care, and for the old quarter home, aud in blind despair 
 will oft reach out their long, thin hands for the string of 
 the cabin latch. But alas! the door no longer swings upon 
 the rustic hinge, and the old cabin has gone to decay, 
 while they who called thee free, have early come to claim 
 the guerdon of their work in thy wretched suffrage. Thy 
 little ones are already taught to think the little masters of 
 their early day, who joined them in their joyous evening 
 songs and revelries, to be their only enemies. But time 
 sets all things even, and then — and then — no matter 
 now, 't is over. 
 
 Thou wert our household once — we knew thee, and we 
 loved thee, too, but now, thou art estranged and gone 
 away. Peace be unto thee ! For the past, we thank thee ; 
 for the future, farewell ! 
 
 As Henry Brandon entered the house, he was met by 
 Violet and Thomas Hunter, who had come to the door 
 for the purpose of learning the cause of the rather extra- 
 ordinary discussion and clamor. Comprehending the na- 
 ture of it in a moment, as they saw the retiring group, 
 Hunter said to him, jocularly : 
 
 "A small imitation of Sir Roger de Coverley, Henry." 
 
 " Yes, an involuntary one, however ; but a very noisy 
 one. It was a scene for a painter. Do you recollect the 
 painting, Hunter, that hangs in the rotunda at AVashing- 
 ton, ' Saturday Evening in Old Virginia,' by Trumbull, I 
 believe?" 
 
 " Very well ; and it never failed to bring up a thousand 
 home feelings." 
 
 ** So it did with me ; it was national in its character, as 
 well as local in association, and I used to notice that it 
 
BLOOM A N D li R I E R . 69 
 
 pleased even Yankees, who knew nothing of the South. 
 That scene a while ago, would make a good picture to 
 hang beside it : * The return of the young master.' But 
 I am glad to see you, Tom. I expected you this evening. 
 That Friar Tuck sort of establishment of yours, over 
 which you went into such ecstasies when first placed 
 in proprietorship, I knew would soon stale, and lose 
 all its charms. Do you remember those sylvan idyls 
 you carolled of it, in your letters, when you first came 
 home?" 
 
 "Very well; but then, my vain friend, do you forget 
 that ' Buckhorns ' hath other inmates than yourself, who 
 may well divide the honor of my visit with you ? " 
 
 " Well, Tom, I hurried away from the presence of my 
 pretty cousins, to meet you here ; and I think I shall be 
 tempted to return, if you wull confess that this visit was 
 not to me, and that I am not under any obligation to en- 
 tertain you." 
 
 " Just as you please, young* man ; but I shall make no 
 confessions,'' said he, laughing. 
 
 " Young gentlemen, your salutations at the least have 
 the recommendation of perfect ease : is such the college 
 d-la-modef" said Violet. 
 
 " Yes," said Henry, jocularly ; " if no particular mode 
 at all is d la mode.'' 
 
 "No, Miss Violet, this is some new style which my 
 hopeful friend has picked up in the last few months. 
 During my stay there, we were the very pinks of etiquette; 
 the knightly rules of the Round Table prevailed among 
 us in all the noble punctilio of the court of King Arthur." 
 
 " I had half supposed as much ; and that is just why, 
 my brother, that Mr. Hunter has done this violence to his 
 feelings, and created the impression that his visit is to 
 mother and myself, when we are bound to believe that it 
 was to yourself, as by the teachings of Sir Launcelot, Sir 
 
70 BLOOM AND BRIER. 
 
 Tristram, and other noble knights, females were given the 
 preference and precedence in all things." 
 
 " Ah, Tom ! behold "svhat a defender you have in my 
 learned sister — previous training, I suspect; and those 
 heroics over at uncle Robert Brandon's, the other day, 
 have had their full influence. 'All 's well that ends well,* 
 and has my sanction, too, always provided there is no 
 fainting or 'sighing like a furnace' in my presence." 
 
 Hunter had been a familiar visitor at Mrs. Brandon's 
 house since his boyhood, and had ever been an intimate 
 friend of Henry Brandon in all the years of their youth 
 and manhood, and consequently was not at all abashed by 
 the insinuation that his visit was to Violet. 
 
 " Well, and what effect, Sir Knight, may we suppose 
 your own assertion of love and fealty had upon the beau- 
 tiful Lady Laura?" retorted Hunter. 
 
 " A very happy one," said Violet, " if any inference is 
 to be drawn from the very pleasant humor in which he has 
 returned from her presence. He must at least have in- 
 tensified his relationship." 
 
 The three young people would no longer have restrained 
 their rising laughter, had not Mrs. Brandon, who had just 
 joined them, prevented it by saying, "Come, my daughter, 
 you should not make a jest in that direction ; you know 
 that your brother feels almost as nigh to Laura as to your- 
 self; and such jests get afloat so easily, that they assume 
 all the proportions of a reality, w^hich would certainly em- 
 barrass Laura, without serving Henry." 
 
 " Thank you, mother, for your reproof of these young 
 folks. I feel that they deserve it, from a sort of bashful- 
 ness which had already begun to creep over me. But really, 
 if the truth must be told, cousin Laura does begin to feel 
 very nigh to me, more than I thought it possible for a 
 cousin to become." 
 
 " Perhaps mother is right then ; so, for the future, my 
 
BLOOM AND BRIER. ^ 71 
 
 irapnident brother, I shall watch you, and take my revenge 
 in some other quarter. Cousin Laura is not the only nice 
 girl who has grown up within a day's ride of this, since 
 you left for college ; " and then looking at her brother, 
 with a sly mischief lurking in her eye, said, "Henceforth 
 pretty Laura Brandon shall only be cousin Laura." 
 
 " Ah, sister, why not let me have a small love-pass or 
 two with our lovely cousin before you enforce the Mosaic 
 law. I can't say that I know anything of these matters 
 actually, but it occurs to me that a gentle little affair of 
 the heart with a sweet young cousin is the most natural 
 thing on earth, and the very prettiest branch of love- 
 making. One could just glide into it without ever knowing 
 when or how, and only wake up to a consciousness of the 
 truth by finding his whole soul filled with happiness. I 
 become more charmed with the idea the longer I contem- 
 plate it. Rather think I must obtain some experience in 
 that direction. But, in good truth, Violet, what maiden 
 fair would you suggest in the place of our lovely cousin ? 
 provided I should consent only to call her cousin." 
 
 " There are several." 
 
 " Well, out of your several, name some particular one." 
 
 " Yes, I will. Let me see. Suppose I say Miss Mary 
 Gray, daughter of old Mr. Gray, in the lower prairies. She 
 has just returned from Lc Fabre's,in Richmond, and issaid 
 to be one of the finest-looking and best educated girls in 
 tlie whole country. Old Mr. Gray, too, is said to be a 
 most intelligent gentleman, and very wealthy, if these 
 facts are of any importance to you." 
 
 " Certainly, very great. Are you acquainted with this 
 fine-looking, well-educated Miss Gray, just from Le Fabre's 
 school, and the daughter of old Mr. Gray, a gentleman of 
 greatly reputed intelligence and wealth ? " 
 
 " Yes — no ; not exactly. I mean that I have seen her ; 
 but, brother, you appear so annoyed at the suggestion, that 
 
72 BLOOMAXDBRIER. 
 
 I shall be more wary of bestowing my kind offices upon 
 you." 
 
 " Oh, no, you are mistaken ; far from it. The idea 
 strikes me ; it has some ring to it, and you make a very 
 decidedly strong case of it. Fine - looking, highly edu- 
 cated, and of course young, and charming as a siren. 
 Such rare combinations seldom meet in one person. How 
 far is it over to the mansion of this old Mr. Gray and his 
 beautiful daughter? I have forgotten all about that 
 country." 
 
 " About eight or ten miles ; probably not so far." 
 
 " Phew ! sister, you certainly would not be reconciled to 
 seeing me skylarking over eight or ten miles of prairies 
 every few days, engaged in the doubtful labor of securing 
 a sweetheart, merely to keep me from falling in love with 
 one of the sweetest cousins any young gentleman ever 
 boasted of — would you? On reflection, I don't think I 
 can make the sacrifice ; too great a draw on my humanity. 
 Indeed, it would be placing myself in antagonism with 
 Leander for posthumous fame. These prairies would be 
 my Hellespont, and I should certainly come to grief in 
 their passage — my horse certainly would. Never mention 
 it again. It would be worse than any of the twelve labors 
 of Hercules. No, I can't do that, not if she were as beau- 
 tiful as Hebe. The only manner that suggests itself to me 
 of solving the difficulty is for her to follow the example 
 of the Queen of Sheba in her designs upon Solomon, and 
 come to see me, or at least, as the Methodist preachers do, 
 alternate visits with me. Ha ! ha ! ha ! Do you think 
 you could negotiate that point ? " 
 
 " You misapprehend me, brother. I am not opposing 
 you in having a little sentimental affair, as you call it, 
 with cousin Laura, if you both desire it ; but then you 
 have forgotten aunt's peculiar disposition, her prejudices, 
 in event of her not relishing the idea. You know she never 
 
BLOOM AND BRIER. 73 
 
 yields a point, -when she lias once made up her mind, and 
 cousin Laura never disobeyed her in her life." 
 
 Catching at the last idea, he said, "Then she would 
 make me a most dutiful and loving wife — ay, I got the 
 word out." 
 
 " No, not if she refused to marry you," said she, laughing, 
 
 *'0h, hush, Violet! you treat the matter as if already 
 begun, and wish to nip my young passion in the bud. 
 You compel me to take down all my castles in the air." 
 
 "You confess, then, to have been engaged in castle- 
 building, with cousin Laura for your lady-love? " 
 
 " Certainly ; who could resist it — who would f She has 
 the chastest, loveliest face, says the brightest things, sings 
 the prettiest love-songs ; and to all of this, the very spirit 
 of love itself seems to swim in her eyes. But, never mind, 
 you have frightened me away. Eight miles — ten, did you 
 say, over to old jockey Gray's, and only three to Mr. Robert 
 Brandon's — two and a half by the near way? Terrible 
 difference ! But, ho for the maiden ten miles away ! How 
 old did you say ? " 
 
 " About nineteen, I think." 
 
 " What the color of her eyes ? " 
 
 " Deep blue." 
 
 " Fine, again ! Hair black, of course ? Don't like your 
 pale -haired girls — too namby-pamby and weakly, like 
 pale sorrel horses — rather have blood-red. Tall, or short ? " 
 
 " Quite tall, with a superb figure and walk." 
 
 " Most excellent — grand ! I can't bear your short, 
 shambling, scuffling little women — generally conceited 
 and petulant ; but the devil of it is, 1 believe the tall 
 ones are too. You do not know whether she sings and 
 dances?" 
 
 " No ; but I suppose she does, as she was educated at a 
 very fashionable school. Old Mr. Gray, however, is aa 
 
74 BLOOM AND BRIER. 
 
 enthusiastic Methodist, endows their colleges, builds their 
 churches, and supports their preachers, and all that sort 
 of thing." 
 
 " What? That 's a bad feature in the affair : I fear the 
 old man has n't ' much ready cash wherewithal to endow 
 this lovely daughter. Wonder if she knows how to cooh f 
 That 's the chief excellence in a girl. Yes, give me one 
 that understands making apple-dumplings — ' them 's the 
 jockeys for me,' as the cockney English traveller in Venice 
 said to poor Shelley." 
 
 " I can't say as to her cooking capacity," said she, laugh- 
 ing; "but I think Mr. Gray must have a great deal of 
 money, as I have heard he makes good crops and good 
 bargains ; and perhaps Miss Gray does know how to cooky 
 
 "Yes — well — the idea you give me of the old gentle- 
 man's character is, that he drives his negroes, as if the devil 
 was after him, all the week, and pinches and screws his 
 friends and neighbors, to obtain the wherewithal to pur- 
 chase an interest in heaven on the next meeting-daj." 
 
 " No ; that is not the character I have of him : I have 
 always heard that he was an enthusiastic Methodist, a 
 strong Whig, a very energetic, thrifty man, but a very 
 liberal and a very hospitable one." 
 
 "The last sounds very well ; but the Methodist part — 
 oh, heavens! Do you suppose the divine demoiselle be- 
 longs to that unhappy, self-torturing denomination ? " 
 
 " She probably does, but, I fancy, without any of their 
 old-fashioned peculiarities. She might follow you, brother," 
 said she, smiling. 
 
 " Perhaps she might ; I should certainly not follow her. 
 Now, I don't so dislike the Methodist people — they are 
 as good, perhaps, as others ; but then they have talked so 
 much about free will, free grace, hell-fire, and such-like 
 matters, until their leadei's always look to be in agony, 
 lest, by some misstep, they fall flat into the bottomless pit; 
 
R L O O M AND BRIER. 75 
 
 niid I have heard them pray with as much imploring unc- 
 tion as if already partially into it." 
 
 "Come, brother, you should be more particular in what 
 you say: we have some friends who belong to that church." 
 "I can't help it, if all my friends belonged to it; but I 
 will remember your caution. Mary Gray — a very pretty 
 name — handsome, young, accomplished, w^ealthy ; father 
 builds churches, etc. On the other hand, Laura Brandon 
 — a majestic name! But, never mind, I'll think the 
 matter over. In the mean while it is growing dark. Sup- 
 pose we go into the house." 
 
 At this suggestion, they walked into the drawing-room, 
 which had already been lighted up, Violet and Hunter 
 going directly to the piano, while Henry flung himself 
 upon the sofa, as worried with his own thoughts, and 
 indifferent to the promised music. 
 
 After selecting some favorite pieces of music. Hunter 
 turned to Henry, who had not spoken a word, and said : 
 
 " Henry, Miss Violet and I have brought the science 
 of music to its highest provincial proficiency. Of course, 
 we do not pretend to come in comparison with the metro- 
 politan masters of either this country or Germany ; but 
 we will allow ijou to call for whatever you admire most, 
 whether march, waltz, or song." 
 
 " You can make the challenge with impunity. Hunter, 
 since you know, of old, that my musical tastes and attain- 
 ments reach no higher than singing, out of tune, some 
 half-dozen old songs, beginning with the * Rose of Allan- 
 dale,' and ending with * Twilight Dews.' However, since 
 you left college, I branched off into sacred music a short 
 distance, and can now go through a stave or two of * Old 
 Hundred ' with a very commendably solemn fervor." 
 
 " That accomplishment may be of some assistance to you, 
 my son," said Mrs. Brandon, pleasantly, who had just seated ^ 
 herself on the sofa by him. " Should you see proper to 
 
76 BLOOM A XD BRIER. 
 
 embrace the suggestion which I think I overheard your 
 sister make to you." 
 
 " Ah, I fear, mother, that Violet and you are in some 
 universal conspiracy against any connubial hope that I may 
 entertain. I had but just begun to think formally of the 
 * Mary Gray ' idea, when forthwith you make a sly fling 
 at the family of my contemplated lady-love." 
 
 " You misapprehend me, Henry," she again good- 
 humoredly replied. " I only made the remark in the same 
 vein of pleasantry in which you yourself indulged." 
 
 " I accept the explanation, mother ; but then I see that 
 the lovely Miss Gray is associated in your mind with psalm 
 tunes, long agonizing prayers, and the whole framework 
 of Methodism ; but that shall make no difierence with me 
 now. I have taken the matter under consideration, at least 
 — Methodism ; plantation, money, and all. Hunter, you and 
 Violet to the music." 
 
 Hunter performed handsomely on the flute, and had one 
 which he kept at Mrs. Brandon's, for the purpose of joining 
 Violet on the piano, when visiting there. 
 
 They had already begun, and, like all real lovers of 
 music, became absorbed in their own sweet sounds, and 
 paid but little attention to what was going on around them 
 — while Henry Brandon, seated on the sofa with his mother, 
 gradually fell into an undertone conversation with her, in 
 the course of which, he asked if there was not some sort of 
 engagement between Hunter and his sister. 
 
 " Yes, he has addressed her, and there is some under- 
 standing between them, which I have not thought proper to 
 interfere with." 
 
 " I have thought, from several little moves in his con- 
 versation, that he wished to broach the subject, but seemed 
 to retire from it again, as if a little too sensitive; and my 
 reason for speaking to him so jocularly this evening, was 
 for the purpose of opening the way for his doing so : he 
 
n I. o o SI A X D n R I e r . 77 
 
 understood it, and will speiik to me now. IIo used to show 
 me the letters he received from her; and though there was 
 no more apparent feeling in them than warm friendship, I 
 could see, in some allusions she made to his, that there 
 was a little sly love-making in them ; and then he always 
 spoke of her in a very different strain from that in which 
 he spoke of other girls." 
 
 The two young performers concluding a piece at this 
 moment, Henry asked if they played a new song, called the 
 " Carrier Dove." 
 
 " Oh, yes! it is one of our favorite songs." 
 " I am happy to be so highly endorsed ; then, as Hamlet 
 might say — play on.'" 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 "For just experience tells, in ev'ry soil, 
 That those who think must govern those that toil." 
 
 Goldsmith. 
 
 niHLS sort of animated and desultory intercourse, such as 
 -L we have described, had been going on for several weeks 
 between the Brandon families and their young friends; 
 and Henry had learned to be more cautious in his style of 
 conversation before his aunt, from the frequent hints to 
 that effect from both Lucy and Laura, and was getting 
 along with her rather pleasantly; although he was now 
 well assured that she was suspicious of his intentions, and 
 would be bitterly opposed to any alliance between him 
 and Laura, on the score of their relationship — a not un- 
 common prejudice in most families. 
 
 The two daughters of Mr. Brandon had just concluded 
 a very pleasant visit of two days to Violet, which it may 
 be supposed Henry Brandon had enjoved after his own 
 1* 
 
78 BLOOM AND BKIER. 
 
 fashion, and, with his sister, had accompanied them home. 
 Henry was met by his uncle with a most cordial pleasure ; 
 and invited by him to come the next morning and accom- 
 pany him to , where he had an appointment with Colonel 
 
 Haywood ; to which he very readily consented, promising 
 to be over early next morning. They remained but a short 
 time ; and while riding along on their return, the conversa- 
 tion turned on Laura, when Violet said : 
 
 " Brother, I think cousin Laura certainly the sweetest 
 girl I ever saw. I love her more and more every time I see 
 her; and I don't blame you for loving her a little, Vihich I 
 know you do ; but then I would advise you to be particu- 
 lar, and go no farther with it, as aunt will certainly oppose 
 you." 
 
 " Yes, I see the good lady has her eye on me ; but she 
 need have no feai-s. I do admire Laura greatly, and always 
 did love her a little, as you say, outside cousin bounds ; but 
 aunt need not make herself disagreeable about it now, any 
 more than she might have done ten years ago, as she really 
 is beginning to be to me ; and which I dislike on Laura's 
 account: were it not for her, it would afford me some pleas- 
 ure just now to hate aunt a good deal." 
 
 " Yes, and you show it just about as much as she shows 
 her suspicion — and the girls see it; and, therefore, I 
 really think it best for you to make the acquaintance of 
 some other girls, just to divert her attention from you. 
 You have scarcely visited any others since your return." 
 
 "Why, have you forgotten that I have been several 
 times to call on Julia Hunter and Miss Sally Morton?" 
 
 " But then they were mere formal calls." 
 
 "Yes, I know ; but I do not wish to get in the way of 
 this young Dr. Wilton, who is said to be an accepted ad- 
 mirer of Julia's, and of our Eev. pastor, Mr. Irwin, Miss 
 Sally's beau." 
 
 " Oh ! you would not be in their way. I do not mean 
 
BLOOM AXD BRIER. 79 
 
 that you shall go there in an old-fashioned courting way ; 
 but as an easy, friendly visitor, which would be very agree- 
 able to you, as there are few girls more accomplished than 
 they are, and no family more pleasant to visit; all of which 
 you know. It would, too, divert aunt's attention from your 
 visits to Laura, the exclusiveness of which evidently annoys 
 her." 
 
 " That is very sensible sort of advice, and I must pay 
 some attention to it, my most sagacious sister." 
 
 " Day after to-morrow, uncle Robert and Colonel Haywood 
 are to speak at Gregory's Spring: the only two appoint- 
 ments they have in this county are at , to-morrow, 
 
 and at Gregory's the next day. At Gregory's, I think, 
 every one that can, will be present, when you can see all 
 the finest girls of this portion of the country ; and I will 
 suggest that we all go." 
 
 "A very nice trip, and we must get it up." 
 
 Conversing quietly in this manner upon various matters, 
 their ride was pleasantly passed off. 
 
 The morning after this, Henry Brandon left home quite 
 early, designing to take breakfast at his uncle's, and to go 
 
 with him to , according to the appointment of the 
 
 evening before. 
 
 The uncle and nephew left the residence of the former 
 
 in time to reach at ten o'clock, at which time the 
 
 speaking was to commence. 
 
 In the course of conversation, while riding along, Henry 
 asked who this Colonel Haywood was, as it was a new 
 name to him. 
 
 " Yes, it is; he has not resided but a few years in the 
 State." 
 
 " Is he a man of mind ? " 
 
 " He is, indeed, a man of genius, education, and temper, 
 and a complete representative of the extremest ultraism 
 of the South Carolina State-rights doctrine." 
 
80 r, LOOM AND BRIER. 
 
 " I should judge him then to be an unpleasant com- 
 petitor in debate." 
 
 " Yes, he is not as agreeable as I have seen. He is dis- 
 posed, if permitted, to be imperious in his manners, and 
 presumes quite as much on the timidity of his opponent, 
 as he does on his own courage. He is insinuating in his 
 innuendoes, bold in his assertions, plausible in his argu- 
 ments, quick to take advantage of the weak points of his 
 adversary, very fluent, at least can command in a moment 
 every word that he knows the meaning of, and at times 
 impassioned, though not a very eloquent speaker." 
 
 "He is rather a dangerous opponent, I should take it." 
 
 " Yes, very truly, a dangerous opponent, not only to me, 
 but, in his daring character, will some day prove more so 
 to the country." 
 
 " I shall begin to believe that you think yourself full 
 matched, uncle," said Henry, smiling. 
 
 " I know I am. Colonel Haywood is a full match for any 
 one in popular debate, though not a statesman, and his 
 fallacies are easily detected. But he has that faculty 
 which Mr. Calhoun possesses most eminently, of impressing 
 his audience with the idea that he is particularly their 
 friend, and then being the advocate of a sort of mixed 
 agrarianism and aggression, he carries the populace even 
 farther than his p>artij can do it. His manner, however, is 
 very different from Mr. Calhoun's. Mr. Calhoun is really 
 a very sincere man, and infuses the sentiment of his truth 
 into everything he says — always calm, generally logical 
 in his deductions, whether his premises be correct or not, 
 and truly believes that he is ever battling for the South, 
 as he resists her hypothetical wrongs. Colonel Haywood, as 
 I have said, has a very different manner, yet comes out 
 pretty much at the same point. He is very courageous, 
 impassioned, ambitious, and some call him eloquent, but 
 he is not: he is only an orator, and by a sort of electric 
 
BLOOM AND BRIER. 81 
 
 influence, which passion only can exert, he inflames tho 
 feelings of the multitude with the fire of his own heart. 
 While he does not inspire that perfect personal confidence 
 which Mr. Calhoun does, he yet moves his audience pretty 
 much at his will." 
 
 At this point in their conversation they had arrived 
 
 in sight of the town of , where a very large number 
 
 of citizens from that part of the country had already 
 assembled. 
 
 At the appointed hour. Colonel Haywood ascended the 
 stand, and delivered one of his best efforts. He was at this 
 time a practising lawyer of high reputation in the State, and 
 master of all the arts of fiery declamation, and considered 
 one of the very finest speakers of his party. About forty 
 years old, he exactly occupied that line of demarcation 
 between youth and age, when a speaker of ability comes 
 before an audience with all the advantages of both, being 
 at liberty to enter the fields of fact and of close argu- 
 ment, supposed to be the peculiar forte of experience and 
 cool judgment, and not only excused, but encouraged, by 
 applause, to wander off in the brighter realms of decla- 
 mation and daring oratory. This advantage Colonel Hay- 
 wood used with surprising art and a terrible power. On 
 the present occasion he began with a high-wrought eulogy 
 on the stern virtue and Roman integrity of the masses! 
 This cajoling of the thoughtless, ignorant multitude into 
 a belief of its great excellence and superior intelligence, 
 had from early times been steadily growing into a sys- 
 tematic demagoguism ; and, while feeling the very least of 
 it himself, he used it with wonderful effect. This wretched 
 flattery had, at length, become almost the necessary politi- 
 cal sustenance of the masses, and placed them perfectly in 
 the power of the ambitious leaders, who, through them, 
 precipitated the South on her ruin in 1860 — destroying 
 almost the least resemblance to a republican government. 
 
82 DLOOM AXD BRIER. 
 
 If all of the which shall have the effect of deterring any 
 and all other peoples from endeavoring to establish such 
 a political absurdity as a democratic republic, demago- 
 guisra will still be entitled to the thanks of the world. 
 
 On this occasion, Colonel Haywood eulogized, in the 
 very highest terms of laudation, the doctrine of State-sov- 
 ereignty^ as recognized by the Constitution, and elaborated 
 in the celebrated resolutions of '98-'99. He then apostro- 
 phized the shade of Jefferson, as the first and chief apostle 
 of those sublime truths, and as the author of that almost 
 inspired scroll, the Declaration of Independence, whose 
 blazing light had sent a knowledge of human rights into 
 all the dark despotisms of the earth, and told all the na- 
 tions of the great truth, that men were born free and equal, 
 and endowed by nature with the right of self-government. 
 
 He next condemned the Tariff, United States Bank, 
 as measures growing out of the "monarchical. Federal, 
 Whig party," of which Mr. Clay was the founder and 
 defender, and concluded his masterpiece of sophistry and 
 declamation with a second high -wrought eulogy o^ the 
 masses, ending by crying out, "Vox populi, vox Dei." 
 
 Colonel Haywood subsequently acquired a leading repu- 
 tation in the South, and was, indeed, a very remarkable man 
 — such an one as society seldom develops or nature pro- 
 duces — and to the day of his death retained that strange 
 power of holding his friends under fire long after all hope 
 was lost, and still held the confidence of his party, however 
 unpopular as a man, to the very end. 
 
 When the darkest hour that ever threw its gloom over 
 the civilization of a people, and hung as a funeral pall 
 over the high mountains, the sweet valleys, the broad 
 plains, and lovely homes of the South, and when the " bonny 
 blue flag " floated over the battle-field — representative of 
 his long-cherished hope — he fearlessly sat upon the wing 
 of the storm and cheered the havoc of the fray. 
 
BLOOM AND BRIKR. 83 
 
 There were those whose souls knew no mortal fear — 
 wJiose minds, in most part, were equal to his own— who 
 foresaw the terrible results of his desperate counsels — and 
 yet a glance from his fiery eye, and a menacing gesture 
 from his hand, hushed their voices as with the stillness of 
 the tomb. 
 
 Wellnigh at his bidding alone, a handful of his coun- 
 trymen went out to the tented field, and measured arms 
 with the hosts of the tributary world ; and for four dreary, 
 bloody years, with a valor unequalled for its chivalry and' 
 its deeds, not only held that host at defiant bay, but swept 
 the best -appointed armies of the world out of existence, 
 and tearing the laurels from the brows of their greatest 
 captains, dashed them to the earth with a laughing, but a 
 bitter scorn. 
 
 Such was Colonel Haywood, and such the armies he en- 
 rolled. We know their fate. The future will do them 
 justice — the present cannot. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 "Xo opinions so fatally mislead us as those not totally wrong, as no 
 watches so effectually deceive us as those that are sometimes right." 
 
 COLTON. 
 
 CJO soon as Colonel Haywood had concluded his speech, 
 >0 Mr. Brandon was enthusiastically called for by his' 
 friends, and ascended the stand amid their deafening ap- 
 plauses. He was the senior of Colonel Haywood by a few 
 years, but far more distingue in his person, above the ordi- 
 nary height, easy and elegant in his motion, with not a 
 particle of aflfectation of any kind, and considered one of 
 the handsomest men of his day. 
 
 Socially, no man was more highly regarded by all classes, 
 
84 BLOOM AND BRIER. 
 
 and known to be, too, one of the most chaste, classical, and 
 eloquent speakers in the State. As has somewhere been 
 £aid of another, he " wreathed the club of Hercules with 
 the garlands of the Muses," and had, on these accounts, 
 been selected as elector, with especial reference to meeting 
 Colonel Haywood in the canvass, which had early promised 
 to be a heated and a bitter one. 
 
 The speeches of Democratic candidates, up to the very 
 moment of the dissolution of the party — albeit, as a 
 universal fact — were made up of unmeaning generalities, 
 ■which had gradually become incorporated into their plat- 
 forms, and which its orators were expected to reiterate to 
 the ignorant masses : these, together with such eulogies as 
 we have already mentioned upon the superior intelligence of 
 " the people'^ made up the warp and woof of their addresses. 
 
 In this manner, but little argument was necessary in 
 reply to them — as argument will not be listened to by the 
 man whose immaculate intelligence may be disproven, 
 when the endorsement of the assertion is the criterion of 
 its truth, and the sweetest aliment to his ignorance and 
 his vanity. 
 
 In replying to Colonel Haywood, Mr. Brandon said, when 
 coming to speak of Mr. Jefferson, that he looked upon 
 him neither as a myth nor anything sacred, but a mere 
 man, mortal, finite, and erring, from whom nothing more 
 extraordinary had issued than his errors — or, at best, but 
 the ideas of a strong and peculiar, but warped mind, which, 
 even in its great ability, had committed mistakes of the 
 first magnitude. As the author of that terrible absurdity 
 that "all men are born free and equal," he was certainly, 
 as has been claimed for him, the founder of the Demo- 
 cratic party. 
 
 That the prominent idea in that "burning scroll," so 
 magniloquently alluded to, was a social, moral, and intel- 
 lectual heresy of the first water, which, from indications 
 
BLOOM AND li il I E R . 85 
 
 already given out, was bound to result, at some future 
 time, in shedding the most baleful rays, social and political. 
 That all men were not born free and equal ; and the absurd- 
 ity of the assertion was too manifest to justify even an 
 attempt at refutation ; and for the utterance of this sub- 
 lime hallucination, Mr. Jefferson did not merit canon- 
 ization. 
 
 In regard to the Tariff, he said it was more of a Southern 
 measure than a Northern one, if the South could only be 
 induced to look at it calmly, with the fact before her of an 
 unsurpassed adaptability for manufacturing to advantage 
 — in climate, production, and water-power. That the 
 South was comparatively poor, just from the want of an 
 internal commerce. That negro slavery was not wealth — 
 rather the absorption of it ; and as an investment of cap- 
 ital, was bad, because of its producing but little more than 
 its own support, producing nothing new, but only repro- 
 ducing itself. That Yankee moralists had found it out at 
 an early day of the experiment, and had long ago fobbed 
 their interest in the wicked traffic, and could well afford to 
 pray for emancipation. " When slavery," said he, *' in 
 some way shall become modified, and loosed in its grasp 
 upon our purse-strings — as the philosophy of its manifest 
 introduction teaches us it will be when the original causes 
 for it shall cease — then the South will cease to be that 
 ' purely agricultural country ' so foolishly boasted of, and, 
 entering on a system of manufacturing labor in connec- 
 tion with its production, become the leading country of the 
 earth." 
 
 In conclusion, he made a very handsome defence of Mr. 
 Clay and the Whig party, and retired amid the thundering 
 cheers of his friends. 
 
 During the canvass between Mr. Clay and Mr. Polk, 
 political excitement ran very high in the South. The par- 
 tisans of either appearing to identify themselves with their 
 8 
 
86 BLOOM AND ERIER. 
 
 political champion, was often the cause of much violence. 
 The truth was, that the friends of Mr. Clay — than whom 
 no political leader in this country was ever more person- 
 ally loved — had become exasperated at the causeless slan- 
 ders of him by Democratic leaders, and were ready now 
 to make his cause an individual one. It was from some 
 reason like this, that, very soon after the speaking was over, 
 a difficulty took place, of a most tragic character, between 
 an old man and his son on the Whig side, and two brothers 
 on the other, in which one on each side, immediately killed, 
 fell a sacrifice to their parties, and each of the others, very 
 severely wounded. 
 
 The old man Miller and his son were planters, and very 
 respectable citizens ; but, while peaceable, were known to 
 be quick-tempered and resolute. Conceiving insult, from 
 the use of some bantering language on the part of the two 
 Democrats, they at once made an attack upon them, which 
 resulted in one of the most sanguinary rencontres of even 
 that day of bowie-knives and broils. Young Miller, who 
 was one of those who escaped with his life, was yet badly 
 w^ounded, and was removed to an hotel, where he was com- 
 pelled to remain for several weeks before even being able 
 to appear before the proper officer on preliminary trial. 
 At length there was a day appointed for this purpose, and 
 the case was decided to be a bailable one, when his polit- 
 ical as well as personal friends united in making a bond 
 for his appearance at the next court. 
 
 After his recovery, his whole character seemed to un- 
 dergo a change — from the gay and frolicsome young- 
 planter, he became the most perfect outlaw, and seemed 
 implacably exasperated against the Democratic party. 
 
 On the first day of the next court, he appeared within 
 the bar, accompanied by his bondsmen, and surrendered 
 himself formally to the sheriff. This operated as a release 
 to those who had gone security for his presence ; but after 
 
B L O (3 >[ A X D n R I E R . 87 
 
 sitting, peemingly with indifference, for some time, he care- 
 lessly picked up his hat, and walked out, apparently with 
 the intention of returning ; but, by arrangement, his horse 
 was near by, and mounting him, never appeared there 
 again. 
 
 Scenes of violence had been of such common occurrence 
 up to about this period, that we should scarcely have taken 
 occasion to give the details w'e have, were it not this one 
 afterward became slightly complicated with the fortunes 
 of our young friend, Mr. Henry Brandon. 
 
 It was near the middle of the afternoon before the ex- 
 citement in regard to the difficulty had in the least sub- 
 sided, and there being continually recurring probabilities 
 of fresh difficulties growing out of the Miller aflliir, Mr. 
 Brandon remained, for the purpose of allaying them, which 
 his well-known courage, and good feeling, and good sense, 
 enabled him to do with more success, probably, than any 
 other man in the county. The political features of the dif- 
 ficulty gradually died away, as the time approached for 
 men to leave for their homes; and Mr. Brandon, seeing that 
 all probability of further troubles had passed oflT, began 
 looking around for his nephew, and' also for Mr. Camp- 
 bell and young Hunter, who had promised to return with 
 him. The two last were soon found, but Henry was no- 
 where to be seen — when it occurred to Hunter that as he 
 was an old boy-friend of young Miller, he might have 
 gone to see him. Immediately going to the hotel, he there, 
 indeed, found him in Miller's room, assisting to make him 
 comfortable. 
 
 When he saw Thomas Hunter enter the room, he imme- 
 diately knew the purpose, and turning to Miller, told him 
 that he would have to leave him, but would return in a 
 few days to see him. 
 
 Miller had not before seen young Brandon since his 
 return, and appeared greatly pleased with the attention, 
 
88 BLOOM AND BRIER. 
 
 and begged him to come again as soon and as often as he 
 could. 
 
 In company with Hunter, he now went to the appointed 
 place of meeting with Mr. Brandon, and very soon after 
 the party were on the road to the country. 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 "Where be your gibes now? your gambols? your songs? your flashes 
 of merriment, that were wont to set the table on a roar? " — Shakspeare. 
 
 CONVERSING over the various incidents of the day, 
 as they rode along, the time passed off very pleasantly 
 until they reached the point whereat the roads divided — 
 one going to Mr. Robert Brandon's, the other to Henry's 
 own home. Here they seemed to come to an involuntary 
 halt, when Mr. Brandon said : 
 
 " Here — why do you stop, young gentlemen ? I believe 
 you are all under contract to go home with me to-night, 
 and to accompany me to-morrow to Gregory's Spring." 
 
 " Yes, uncle, we are under promise to go with you to- 
 morrow; but my understanding of it was," said Henry, 
 laughing, " that the young gentlemen were to accompany 
 me home to-night, and go by for you in the morning." 
 
 " I think, Henry, they are my guests, as they certainly 
 came out at my request." 
 
 " Yes, that was so ; but I think there was an after arrange- 
 ment, to the effect that I speak of." 
 
 " Well, I will leave it to the young gentlemen them- 
 selves to say," said Mr. Brandon, who saw that his nephew 
 was jesting. 
 
 "Oh, no," he replied, breaking out in a laugh ; "but I 
 
HLOO.M AND BKIKR. 89 
 
 will make a fair division of spoils, and give you first choice 
 of the three of us." 
 
 Although Plenry knew his own selection would make 
 Hunter and Campbell feel a little awkward in going to his 
 mother's without him, he slyly hoped that his uncle would 
 choose him. But Mr. Brandon, pleasantly accepting the 
 compromise, invited young Campbell. They now sepa- 
 rated, and Henry and his friend rode off at a merry pace, 
 and were not long in reaching home. On getting there, 
 however, he was a little surprised at finding his mother and 
 sister absent ; but a note from Violet was handed to him, 
 saying, that "her mother and herself had concluded to 
 make a visit to ' Starlight,' in the morning after he left, and 
 that since that time they had determined on remaining 
 till the next day ; that he must come over, and bring ^Ir. 
 Hunter, if he was with him." 
 
 Henry then asked Hunter to his room, where the two 
 young gentlemen readjusted their dress for that evening, 
 and even prepared for the next day, at the expense of the 
 former's wardrobe. 
 
 While dressing and making their preparations, Henry 
 appeared even so unusually animated and happy, that 
 Hunter was induced to ask him the cause of it. 
 
 " You appear very uncommonly delighted, my good fel- 
 low, with the prospect of getting to your uncle's. Shall I 
 pass it to the credit of that excellent gentleman himself, 
 to your equally excellent aunt, to the beautiful Lucy, or, 
 indeed, to the sweet face of our lovely cousin, Laura? 
 Come, out with it, Henry, and tell me, in a good old-fash- 
 ioned way, the especial name of that little secret emotion 
 which plays with such pleasure on your face, and imparts 
 such unusual animation ? " 
 
 " Hunter, you astonish me. For one who has always 
 prided himself on his power to read the heart by the face, 
 to even approach such a misapprehension, all but surpasses 
 8* 
 
90 BLOOM A XD BRIER. 
 
 credulity. Now, sir, if you had only a tenth part of th3 
 keen perception which you claim, you would discover at a 
 glance that my face only expressed an intellectual emotion 
 — a very sharp desire, with the prospect of gratification, 
 of becoming better informed of, or more fully initiated 
 into, the mysteries of \yhiggery. You would have seen, 
 also, that the lovely face of my cousin Laura had no claim 
 whatever in these aforesaid emotions. You can believe 
 me. Hunter, as you know that I would not deceive you," 
 saying this with a manifest jocularity. 
 
 Hunter replied, " No, no, never ! I must give you 
 credit for that, both in the past and in the present, as your 
 jesting words of denial, your manner, emphasis, look, and 
 emotion, all speak for themselves. And my opinion is, 
 that our sweet cousin, Laura Brandon, has touched some 
 deep - hidden, delicate chord of your frolicsome heart, 
 which no other damsel has ever done in any of your rol- 
 licking flirtations. Though I cannot say that you are * in 
 love,' yet it occurs to me that you are nigher falling into 
 the gossamer web of the * rosy god ' than ever before." 
 
 " Hunter, you frighten me, man — yea, you agitate me 
 to my deepest foundations — you knock the devil's conceit 
 out of me. I have never thought of falling ' in love ' since 
 I was sixteen." 
 
 "And who was that with, but Laura Brandon?" said 
 Hunter, interrupting him. 
 
 '* I have only thought of girls falling in love with me," 
 said he, not appearing to hear him ; "nor am I willing to 
 acknowledge anything else till yet. Though I am really 
 afraid for you to make any of your d — d prophecies, for 
 you know I always looked upon you as half wizard, 
 guilty of holding communion with evil spirits ; " and then 
 adding, " Tom, do you talk in your sleep as much as 
 ever ? " 
 
 " Yes, I expect so, as I never did it : that was a scandal 
 
B L O O M A N D R R r E R . 91 
 
 of your own. I sleep very silently and innocently, as I 
 always did." 
 
 "Pity your innocence did not come sooner, before crack- 
 ing that fellow's skull ; you might have remained at collefj;e 
 a few months longer. A fig for your innocence ! Tom, 
 have you never been mad with yourself for that thought- 
 less difficulty ? " 
 
 "Yes, a thousand times; but innocent or not, I was 
 never in half the difficulties that you were — no, not a 
 tenth." 
 
 "Oh, me — difficulties! I was born to difficulties, and 
 I expect to die in one. They come naturally, not even 
 involving the question of guilt or innocence. They are 
 my natural element, as Miss Gibbons said to me the last 
 time I called upon her, while speaking of her poetical 
 tastes and feelings, and reciting a very touching effusion 
 of her own." 
 
 Both breaking out in a laugh at this. Hunter asked him 
 how he deported himself during the recital. 
 
 " I grasped the back of the sofa convulsively, and most 
 rigidly clenched my teeth, while I rolled my eyes up like 
 an ox in the agonies of death, and ever and anon grunted 
 out, 'Charming.^ What the devil else could I do?" 
 
 " What has become of her ? " asked Hunter, when suffi- 
 ciently recovered from his convulsive laughter. 
 
 " She is there yet, I suppose, waiting to marry Potter, 
 that Congregational beneficiary who was in our class, and 
 will do so, as soon as he receives the preliminaries of ordi- 
 nation, and procures some village pulpit from which to 
 fumigate the gospel. You know these fellows do not have 
 any trouble in regard to the sanctity of the priesthood. 
 All they require is some sort of plebiscit to preach, which 
 they get after learning something of the Synod of Dort, 
 Martin Luther, Calvin, and old John Knox, predestination 
 and election, hell-fire, etc." 
 
92 BLOOM AND BRIER. 
 
 ** You are disposed to be severe on our old Yankee 
 friends." 
 
 " No, you know what I say is the truth." 
 
 " But you have not told rae all about Miss Gibbons." 
 
 "Oh, no. Well, I called upon her, just out of a sort of 
 old habit, the day before I left, as I told you, when this 
 affair of the poetry took place. I had often heard that 
 she was engaged to Potter, and therefore thought it would 
 be safe to make a little harmless love to her, particularly 
 as she would always remember it as quite a distinguished 
 honor to have been made love to by a young Southerner. 
 So I began by very seriously alluding to the many hap])y 
 hours I had spent in her society, and the regret which my 
 departure would occasion me. After a few other silly 
 remarks of this sort, I thought I would go a little farther, 
 and added, that having heard of her engagement with 
 ^Ir. Potter, I should leave with less regret, however, than 
 I otherwise should ; and a good deal more of such stuff; 
 when, without my in the least looking for such a scene, 
 she put her handkerchief to her face, and extended me her 
 hand ! " 
 
 "What?" 
 
 " Extended me her hand ! " 
 
 " The old scratch ! What did you do then, my gay 
 Lothario ? Ha ! ha ! ! ha ! ! ! Tell me, or I die." 
 
 " Well, I took it, placed it to my lips very gently, but 
 slightly bit her finger." 
 
 "AVhat?" 
 
 " Bit her finger very gently." 
 
 Hunter crying out, " Oh, heavens ! " both roared out in 
 laughter, and Henry Brandon continued : 
 
 " What in the name of common sense was I to do? The 
 thing was becoming too tender." 
 
 " Pshaw, boy ! Tell me what you really did do." 
 
 " Well, to tell the truth, I kissed her extended hand, 
 
B L O (^ >r A N D R R r E n . 93 
 
 and heaving a deep-drawn sigh, just suffieiently audible 
 for her to hear, left the house v/hile the scene was at its 
 culmination — but precipitately, I assure you — for I found 
 that she was not all clay in Potter's hands, and having no 
 need of such myself, thought it best to escape in the dust 
 of our grief '^ 
 
 At this there was another peal of laughter. Brandon 
 then again added : 
 
 *'This scene happened, Tom, just as I have told it, and 
 you know I do not tell it in any vanihj, but as a good joke, 
 and a good illustration of the sort of estimation in which 
 Southern young men are held by Northern girls. Seven 
 in ten of them would turn off a good, clever Yankee for 
 an indifferent Southerner, and I am almost at a loss to 
 account for it. There is Potter, for instance, who in a few 
 months will obtain 'orders' to preach. Some village will 
 call him, and, of course, he will accept. Some few me- 
 chanics, laborers, servant -girls, or helps, with a small 
 sprinkling of those who call themselves the better classes, 
 will be his congregation. For his salary he will get a pit- 
 tance of money, some contributions of apples, potatoes, 
 with now and then a cutlet of veal, a few butternuts, and 
 an occasional present of maple sugar. In addition to this, 
 he may get charge of the village free-school, and be chosen 
 president of the Female Beneficent Society, or of an Aboli- 
 tion Society. Altogether, he will pick up a very good sort 
 of living, and become a man of some note among his par- 
 ticular class of people. Now all of this brilliant prospect 
 she was willing to throw away, just to get a Southerner, 
 of whom she knew nothing, and who, it is quite probable, 
 will never reach such heights in his own country." 
 
 They were now ready to ride, and going out to the 
 gate, found " Sara Brandon " holding their horses, and one 
 for himself, saying : 
 
 " Mass Henry, I could'n bar the thoughts of seein' you 
 
94 BLOOM AND BRIER. 
 
 go by you'seif in the night so. You might want some 
 'sistance ; so I cotch a hoss for myself." 
 
 " All right, Sam ; I am obliged to you." Mounting, 
 they rode off rapidly. 
 
 Hunter continued the conversation, by saying, "Yes, 
 you are right, Henry, in your ideas of Northern character, 
 and there is some deep-laid ethnological reason for it. 
 Women are all creatures of emotion, and have much higher 
 instincts than men. The latter protects them, to some ex- 
 tent, against the influences of the former. In most all 
 instances, these attributes give them a keen insight into 
 the leading points of character of the opposite sex, and 
 Northern women discover in the character of the South- 
 erner something that better pleases them than in their own 
 men." 
 
 " Hunter, your remarks broach a doctrine which I was 
 laughed at, just before leaving college, for advancing — 
 a difference of race between the Northern and Southern 
 people. The Yanks can't bear it ; but the differences so 
 often spoken of are not accidental, but fundamental — • 
 organic." 
 
 " Come, come," said Hunter, interrupting him, " the sub- 
 ject of Yankee idiosyncrasies is not a fit one for young 
 Southerners on a night ride to see their sweethearts." 
 
 " Well, no ; perhaps you are right ; but I object to your 
 classification, Tom. You can keep it for yourself, if you 
 wish." 
 
 The suddenness of this sort of retort, or correction rather, 
 confused Hunter, who replied : 
 
 " Well, Henry, just as you please ; but, my dear fellow, 
 I very unwarily gave you that advantage ; but my idea 
 was to please you, and you should have been more generous 
 than to have used it so unkindly, as to drive me either 
 into a confession or a denial." 
 
 " Ah, as you appeal to my generosity, I will excuse you 
 
BLOOM AND BRIER. 95 
 
 from a reply, but will reserve the right to construe your 
 silence into a confession of the general truth." 
 
 " Your generosity takes a very singular direction, and 
 forces me into a dilemma. I had better get the credit of 
 an open avowal at once." 
 
 " So be it, and let me play Father-Confessor. Now, my 
 erring, mortal son, I hear there be three maideas fair, not 
 many miles away, one of whom you have impliedly asserted 
 to be my lady-love, and there be two others yet, who rejoice 
 in the pretty names of Lucy and Violet ; now choose ye, 
 before which of these fiiir damsels ye shall bow in your 
 devotions." 
 
 " As thou dost give me choice, most Holy Father, I will 
 select the lady Violet." 
 
 " So be it, then, thou unhappy son of man, and victim of a 
 maiden's toils : yet thou hast my blessing." 
 
 The dashing eccentricity which Henry Brandon had 
 thus given to the conversation, at once relieved Hunter of 
 an embarrassment which, he said, had "been wTighino- 
 upon him for several weeks," and in the next moment he 
 spoke to Brandon, in modest terms, of the long-felt prefer- 
 ence for his sister, and said he hoped it would not be un- 
 pleasing to him. 
 
 Henry replied, "That he so well knew his feelings to- 
 wards him, that it was unnecessary to assure him of his 
 approbation." Then, laughing, asked his pardon for forcing 
 him into a confession of attachment for his own sister. 
 
 " I am obliged to you, Henry, for doing so, as I knew 
 that you had been told of it, and I was only waiting to 
 overcome my bashfulness sufficiently to speak to you re- 
 specting it." 
 
 "'All 'swell that ends well,' you know, is one of my 
 favorite old maxims ; so for the present let's ride faster — 
 ride to our ladies' bowers on the wings of love," and gave 
 his horse the rein. 
 
96 BLOOM AND BRIER. 
 
 " I tliaiik tliee, most Reverent Father." 
 
 "Agreed as to that ; but now answer the question I first 
 put to you — Is the anxiety to 'meet with your cousin or 
 your sweetheart ? " 
 
 Young Brandon, laughing, as if the subject were not a 
 disagreeable one to him, said : 
 
 " * Still harping on my daughter/ Well, Hunter, I will 
 tell you all I know% and leave you to decide on it. To be- 
 gin at the beginning, you remember the ludicrous meeting 
 in the grove ? " 
 
 " Yes, of course." 
 
 " Well, when I first met her, I cannot say that I was 
 ' in love' with her, though we were acknowledged sweet- 
 hearts when we were young, and you know we corresponded 
 quite regularly while I was at college." 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " In my letters, I frequently alluded to the fact of a cer- 
 tain promise she was under to me, to which she always 
 assented ; but I had been away from her four years, and 
 cannot be supposed to have been very deeply enamored 
 when I returned, and when I knelt before her, it was as 
 pure a piece of impromptu extravagance as ever entered an 
 idle head to perpetrate. But while going on with the non- 
 sense, I saw the same little gold ring on her finger that I 
 had placed there the last time we met ; straightway the 
 ardent love of boyhood came back upon me, I do believe, 
 and when I rose, I could not resist the inclination to kiss 
 her pretty, pouting, laughing lips ; and I should have done 
 it, if every uncle and watching aunt, from Noah's time till 
 now, had been present. When I placed my arm around 
 her neck, she gave such a look of innocent surprise out of 
 her soft blue eyes, that I had to stop for a moment to gaze 
 into the mystic depths of their almost angelic beauty. And 
 now, may my dear aunt forgive me, but I really believe 
 myself hopelessly in love with her daughter, and to-night 
 
BLOOM A XD BRIER. 97 
 
 I intend to call her sweetheart, out and out, even if it brings 
 upon me the bitter hate of my most affectionate relative, 
 Mrs. R. Brandon, which ^ believe it will do." 
 
 They had now reached the gate of " Starlight," where 
 a servant stood waiting to take charge of their horses, and 
 still another to take them to a private room, to prepare, 
 before entering the drawing-room. They were then in- 
 formed that other visitors were there for the evening. 
 
 CHAPTER Xiy. 
 
 " She was a form of life and light, 
 That, seen, became apart of sight." 
 
 AFTER Henry had left in the morning, Violet pro- 
 posed to her mother to go over and spend the day at 
 " Starlight," which, after a little persuasion, was consented 
 to, Mrs. Brandon having no idea that her daughter had 
 any ulterior purpose in view, further than the pleasure of 
 Laura's and Lucy's company for the day. 
 
 The family at " Starlight " were delighted at seeing the 
 carriage drive up, and met Violet and her mother with 
 that usual pleasure which the presence of either family 
 ever gave the other. 
 
 It was not a great while before the two elderly ladies 
 were left alone by their daughters, who, by some under- 
 stood sign from Violet, withdrew to another room, where 
 their whole plan w'as discussed and determined upon, which 
 was nothing more nor less than an extemporized dancing 
 party that evening, made up of such of their young friends 
 in the neighborhood as could be notified in time. So far 
 as they were concerned, the whole enterprise was very soon 
 matured ; and the only thing left to be done, was getting 
 9 
 
98 BLOOM AND BRIER. 
 
 the consent of their mothers, which they now left the scene 
 of their conclave for the purpose of obtaining. The re- 
 quest was granted without hesitation, further than by 
 Violet's mother asking, if that had been her purpose in 
 M'ishing to visit her cousins that morning ? Violet laugh- 
 ingly admitted that it was, and would have told her of it ; 
 but fearing it possible, at least, that it might not be thought 
 practicable, concluded it was as well to say nothing of it. 
 
 Mrs. Brandon laughed at the cunning ; but told her she 
 must write to her brother, so that he would know the cause 
 of their absence. 
 
 " Oh, certainly ; we could have no party without brother, 
 Thomas Hunter, and Mr. Campbell ; both of the latter, I 
 am satisfied, will come home with either brother or uncle." 
 
 It was then decided to whom each one of the girls was 
 to write. Laura, by general consent, being considered the 
 favorite of Mr. Parson Jerome, was to write to him, and 
 to invite Dr. Wilton also, a young physician who lived 
 with him and practised medicine from his house ; while 
 Lucy was to write to Miss Julia Hunter, and Miss Sally 
 Morton ; the latter being an orphan relation of Judge 
 Hunter, and a member of his family. 
 
 As we have grouped all of our young friends without 
 previous introduction, it may be expected, perhaps, that we 
 shall say something of them seriatim. Henry Brandon, 
 Thomas Hunter, and Mr. Campbell, we have already had 
 before us. Mr. Jerome, the young parson who had recently 
 been called to the charge of the parish, was a gentleman 
 who had grown up in the neighborhood ; and was at this 
 time living on the plantation which he had inherited from 
 parents, who were long since dead, about five miles distant 
 from Mr. Brandon's. Dr. Wilton was his very early college 
 friend, before he had united himself to the Church ; and 
 while playing the role, in common parlance, of a " very wild 
 After the return of Mr. Jerome to the old 
 
B L O () M A N D li li I E R . 99 
 
 paternal estate, he had been invited by him to make his 
 house his home, it being an excellent point from which to 
 practise his profession. 
 
 Miss Julia Hunter was the sister of Thomas Hunter, 
 and the daughter of Judge Hunter, a very accomplished 
 gentleman and wealthy planter, who resided but a few 
 miles away. Miss Hunter was a pretty sensible girl, about 
 nineteen, and quite well-known to be admired by Dr Wil- 
 ton, who, however, had never visited her at her father's 
 house, having only met her, up to this time, at church, or 
 at one or the other of the Brandon families. And now last, 
 but not the least of this little circle of young friends, let 
 me say a few words of Sally Morton, for she was a friend 
 of ours, in that long-gone day which we call our youth ; 
 and gallantry forbids that we should pass her over without 
 more than a mere cold, passing introduction to our readers. 
 
 Surrounded even by the pleasantest circumstances, age 
 hath but little to cheer it in its twilight walk, outside the 
 recollection of its early friends and its early joys. Nature, 
 however, seems kindly to rekindle these morning memories, 
 as the casualties of time add to our sorrows. And now, as 
 we stand amid the wrecks of fortune, and well-nigh upon 
 the grave of hope, surrounded, too, by the most wretched 
 revolutionary and anarchical elements, we live over again 
 with a sweeter zest, the bright and happy scenes of our 
 better days. 
 
 But humanity will still be frail humanity ; and as we 
 turn back to the loveliness, prosperity, peace, order, and 
 joyfulness that once did mark our Southern homes, and 
 then turn forward to the bruised poverty, dilapidation, 
 haggardness, and the almost universal woe of the present 
 hour, we curse, in all the bitterness of a human heart, and 
 with an unseen force and fire, that no earthly power can 
 yet avert or quench, the rude hands that wrought this 
 misery. Ay ! 
 
100 BLOOM a:st> brier. 
 
 *' . . . Time sets all things even ; 
 And if we do but watch the hour, 
 There never yet was human power, 
 Which could evade, if unforgiven, 
 The patient search and vigil long 
 Of him who treasures up a wrong." 
 
 But never mind. There'll be an arbitrament of our 
 wrongs before the century expires, when, perhaps, the odds 
 will not be so great as now. 
 
 We had just begun to speak of our old friend Sally- 
 Morton, we believe ; yes, we had — well, Sally at this time 
 was about twenty-two years old, we remember it well, for 
 we had long been no ordinary friends, Sally and I ; and 
 even now, upon the dull ear of age, as in the wild glad- 
 someness of youth, her joyous laugh still rings so sweetly 
 and so merrily ; and verily too, doth startle some slumber- 
 ing feeling well-nigh forgot, but still mayhap too tender to 
 be told. But of these we will not speak again — they were 
 long, too long ago, before the silver-grey had thatched these 
 brown old locks. 
 
 Sally, we say, was about twenty-two, and a very remark- 
 able combination of intellect and beauty. She was rather 
 more than medium in height, delicately formed, but well- 
 developed ; her features were exquisitely moulded, and the 
 dimples that rested on her blooming cheek, with the defiant 
 but coquettish smile that ever played in wanton beauty 
 about her mouth, told of the bright and festive spirit that 
 ever revelled in its own mirth and wit, and which no early 
 sorrows long could cloud. 
 
 She was an orphan, and the only daughter of a gentle- 
 man of fine estate, whose embarrassed condition, at the time 
 of his death, had left her not penniless, but without fortune. 
 
 Such was Sally Morton, and such the young friends, 
 whose youthful story we have undertaken partially to re- 
 late ; and to give a clearer insight into their style of social 
 
BLOOM AND IJKIKIJ. lOl 
 
 intercourse with each other, and their intimacy, we take 
 the liberty of transcribing the notes of invitation sent out 
 for tlieir extemporized dancing party: 
 
 "Starlight, Oct. 10, 18—. 
 "Dear Julia — Every arrangement has been made for 
 the a.<surance of a very happy time to-night at 'Starlight,' 
 in the programme whereof, your name stands conspicuous. 
 Although these arrangements are extremely impromptu, they 
 yet admit no refusal to shine, on the part of objects coming 
 within their disc; on your part particularly is this thought 
 to be the case, as tliere would be no enjoyment without it. 
 This much, by way of preliminary, which I will follow up 
 by a greater elaboration of details. Violet and aunt are 
 with us, and will remain till morning. Father will be at 
 home, and somehow we have learned or think that Mr. 
 Campbell will accompany him — and look upon the infor- 
 mation or thought, as reliable. Your brother Thomas, and 
 our meteoric cousin, Henry Brandon, have been commanded 
 to be present by those who are thought to possess great in- 
 fluence in that direction; and as a matter of course, will 
 recognize the obligation of obedience. Laura too, is widen- 
 ing the range of these extemporized hospitalities ; and at 
 this very instant is deeply engaged at my side, in the pre- 
 paration of a correspondence for the parsonage, mandatory 
 to the recluses thereof, to emerge from their seclusion and 
 fjhostly meditations, and to report to us at * Starlight ' this 
 evening. With the very benevolent view that yourself and 
 Miss Sally shall not be each without a revolving satellite ; 
 rumor having already assigned the orbits of these two 
 modest pseudo-anchorites, no farther designation is required 
 even to prevent collision. Now, was there ever anything to 
 exceed the true beauty and artistic skill of this diagram, 
 for a fantastic evening? perfect in all its diplomatic and 
 social aspects! 
 
 "Say to Miss Sally, that she will doubtless be called on 
 to play a double part in the proposed enjoyments, and must 
 prepare herself, Ajax-like, (1 hope I commit no classical 
 solecism,) to excel herself Our cousin Henry, already 
 delighted with her, will be greatly attracted by her wit; 
 and ^ye wish her to rise in the very highest flight, and 
 sweeping down upon him, deplete him, of a part at least, of 
 9* 
 
102 BLOOM AND BKIER. 
 
 his college conceit, of ■which he has far more than his 
 honest share ; and is quite disposed to put on airs to every- 
 thing that labors under the disability of wearing petticoats : 
 indeed, even goes so far as to use the word namby-pamhtj, in 
 connection thereof. Now, of this *vain delusion,' we be- 
 lieve it in the power of Miss Sally to disenchant him. The 
 other, of the double part to which I have alluded, is that 
 of playing j^rioress to the prior — in that, however, she al- 
 ready has had some experience. 
 
 "Now all of these details of arrangement, dear Julia, 
 are subject to emendation by the circumstances of the even- 
 ing ; and it may even be so, that this eccentric cousin may 
 wander off into your periphery, provided anything shall 
 check him in his bold and open love-making to Laura ; de- 
 fiant as he is of the presence of father, mother, or any one, 
 will look upon me, I believe, as his Fidus Achates, in the 
 enterprise of winning her heart, which, indeed, I believe he 
 has more than half accomplished. I laugh and tell her 
 that she is inveigling her rollicking cousin into the meshes 
 of her heart. She laughs too, and merely says he is her brag 
 cousin for genius, craziness, and impudence. 
 
 "He w^as here yesterday, and I heard him^ay he intended 
 very soon to enlarge the radius of his social enjoyments, and 
 threatened to tread down the fiowers between ' Buck-horns ' 
 and ' Oak Hill.' It will, therefore, be an excellent idea to 
 meet him this evening on an open field, where you can, by 
 observation rather than contact, break the spell of conster- 
 nation — as I am very sure that, otherwise, his flights will 
 frighten you. But I must stop writing, as I am consuming 
 time which the messenger should be using, in flying to 
 * Oak Hill.' But, ' bless me I ' my dear Julia, I had for- 
 gotten to tell you that it was a dance we had extemporized. 
 Now, I know you will come. Your friend, Lucy B. 
 
 "P. S. It is said that the point of a woman's letter is to 
 be found in the postscript ; nor shall I urge this to be an 
 exception, but leave the question to be judged of by your- 
 self, or whomsoever it may concern. Whether it be the 
 point or not, my postscript purpose is to ask you to bring 
 your brother Robert with you, v\ho I learn has not yet con- 
 sumed all of his college vacation. Tell him it is my own 
 especial invitation ; and though no particidar provision has 
 been made for him, it is yet not too late to say that, if he 
 
BLOOM AXD BKIEK. 103 
 
 will accept Lucy Brandon as his partner, chaperone, or 
 what-not, she hereby covenants not even to look at any 
 other young gentleman during the evening — if he demands 
 it. Yours, L. B." 
 
 As Lucy had said to her friend, Julia Hunter, Laura, at 
 the same time, was busily preparing a letter to be sent to 
 the parsonage, which she had now concluded, and ran as 
 follows : 
 
 "Starlight, 10th October. 
 
 " Honored Parson : A goodly number of your parishion- 
 ers, having met at our house this morning, and not wishing, 
 under all the circumstances, to be deprived of your presence 
 until the next Sunday, through me send greeting this epUtle 
 — and, though not such as you are more particularly famil- 
 iar with, we yet hope that its tidings will bring a thrill of 
 earthly joyance, if not of spirituality — the particular im- 
 port whereof is, that you make your appearance this even- 
 ing at the ingle-side of ' Starlight ' by seven o'clock, or at an 
 earlier hour if more convenient to you, as some matters of 
 moment to the liistory of your parish will certainly be agi- 
 tated. 
 
 " We have just heard with much pleasure of your return 
 from the 'General Convention'; but, during your absence 
 of several weeks, there has made his appearance among us 
 a long-absent young citizen, whom you knew in his youth, 
 I believe. . The said young gentleman, according to common 
 report, was ever slightly disposed to something of social out- 
 lawry ; but has returned almost confirmed in this disposition, 
 much to the chagrin of all his staid and well-deporting rela- 
 tions, of whom I am one ; so much so is this the truth, that 
 it is manifest to every one that he is ready for any desperate 
 enterprise, from the breaking of a young girl's heart up 
 through all the catalogue of such wicked deeds. At a famUy 
 meeting, therefore, between Violet, Lucy, and myself,' it has 
 been decided to hand over to your pastoral care this pecu- 
 liar case of deviation from the solemn dignity of his ances- 
 tors, with the request that even this night you come and 
 begin your vigils of him, lest delay may put it beyond your 
 power to effect any salutary change. Thus far, the occasion 
 for your presence may be considered professional ; further, 
 it m^Y be personal to yourself. 
 
104 BLOOM AND BRIER. 
 
 " Wherefore the latter, you eagerly ask ; — the answer, 
 though rather more than monosyllabic, is yet not quite poly- 
 syllabic — Sally Sumpter (did you discover ray effort at 
 wit?) will be with us this evening. So, for this reason and 
 for that, we think it advisable that you come — yea, that 
 you absolutely do come ; and I, as your best lady friend, do 
 demand it of you. Can you resist that logic ? I think that 
 may be termed argumentum ad hominem. 
 
 •" In plain w^ords, Reverend Sir, our cousin, Henry Bran- 
 don, whom you may remember something of as a boy, is re- 
 turned ; he will be with us this evening, and we wish you 
 to see him. Violet, Julia, and Miss Sally, Thomas and 
 Robert Hunter, and Mr. Campbell, have all been asked, 
 and w^e of course expect them. Music and dancing may be 
 expected: I need scarcely say, that you will not require 
 your surplice. 
 
 " Every word of this letter, in its spirit, is equally with 
 yourself intended for Dr. Wiltoji, whose presence cannot be 
 dispensed with on any plea, not even that of * professional 
 engagements,' as his name has entered largely into the ar- 
 rangements we have made for the evening entertainments, 
 and has been especially set apart as the aopompaniment to 
 Miss Hunter's. Now let me close this idle style of writing, 
 before you think me either jesting or a fit subject for the 
 asylum ; assuring you that I am neither, but as ever, 
 
 " Your friend, Laura Brandon. 
 
 "P. S. I had not forgotton Mr. Thaxton, but found no 
 suitable place in my letter to ask after his health. Say to 
 him that we all frequently speak of him ; and if he would 
 come over with you, any and all of us would see to it, that 
 he was entertained and enjoyed himself. L. B." 
 
BLOOM AND BRIER. 105 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 " There is not a string attuned to mirth, 
 But hath its chord in melancholy." 
 
 DR. WILTON reached home from a professional visit 
 but a few minutes after the invitation came. 
 
 Mr. Jerome hearing that he had come, called him and 
 Mr. Thaxton to the sitting-room, when he read the letter 
 he had just received. Dr. Wilton was so highly pleased 
 with the prospect of enjoyment, that he immediately pro- 
 posed that all of them should ride over. 
 
 " You and the parson can go, doctor," said Mr. Thaxton ; 
 " but I am a little too old now to enter into such pleasures, 
 though I should like to see them all, particularly Laura 
 and Henry Brandon. Laura is an old favorite of mine 
 from a child, and used to come to my ' bench,' when work- 
 ing at her fathef's, nearly every day ; and always had some 
 little job for me to do for her, making a new stool, or a 
 bedstead for a doll, or a pleasure-carriage to be made out 
 of spools ; yes, she was a sweet child, and has grown up a 
 very lovely woman. Lucy was a nice child, but was shyer, 
 and rather fiercer — took more after the mother, who was 
 and is yet, I reckon, as proud as Lucifer, and as self-willed, 
 though a very nice woman." 
 
 " What kind of boy was this young Henry Brandon," 
 asked Dr. Wilton. 
 
 *' One of the finest boys I ever knew. I was more about 
 Mrs. St. George Brandon, both before and after her hus- 
 band's death, than any family over there ; and this boy 
 Henry I saw a great deal of, clear up to the time of his 
 leaving for college — a very fine boy ; but very wild, care- 
 less, reckless, and loved his fun. He had a negro boy that 
 was called ' Sam Brandon,' that always went with him, and 
 a great rascal Sam was ; except when Henry was at school. 
 
106 BLOOM AND BRIER. 
 
 he was always to be found near him. Henry was a sort of 
 boy sweetheart to Laura Brandon, and judging from that 
 letter, I think it is about to be revived." 
 
 " You appear to know all about them, Mr. Thaxton,'* 
 said Dr. Wilton. 
 
 " Yes ; almost as much about them as I do about myself. 
 I worked among them for numbers of years." 
 
 Mr. Thaxton was an old man — a mechanic by trade — and 
 had made the house of the elder Mr. Jerome his head- 
 quarters since his first coming to the country, and had been 
 asked to do so by his executors, after his death ; and since 
 the young parson had returned, had been invited to remain. 
 He had already acquired a competency, and was leading a 
 life of quiet ease. Having always been a great reader, he 
 now passed most of his time in the library ; he was a man 
 of line sense, and greatly respected by all who knew him. 
 " You say you can't go, Mr. Thaxton," said Mr. Jerome. 
 " No, I can't go ; but tell Laura I'll get over there before 
 long, and stay a day or two among them, just to see what 
 manner of grown people my little favorites of old now 
 make." 
 
 Mr. Jerome and Dr. Wilton made preparations for going, 
 and about the hour which had been designated, reached 
 Mr. Robert Brandon's, just after that gentleman and Mr. 
 Campbell had arrived ; and not a great while after them, 
 Henry Brandon with Thomas Hunter rode up. 
 
 "Hallo!" said Henry; "what can be the matter here 
 to-night ? " as he saw the house very unusually lighted up. 
 " I can't say, Henry, unless your aunt is illuminating on 
 account of your coming." 
 
 "Yes, possibly so ; but I think it far more probable, if 
 that was the cause of her doing anything, for her to blow 
 out every light for a mile around." 
 
 "Humph! you don't rate your popularity very high 
 with the good lady." 
 
B I. O O M A N D U R I E R . 107 
 
 " Yes, about as high as ILunan ! if the comparison is not 
 a solecism." 
 
 *' Sam Brandon," who was with them, took charge of their 
 horses, while they proceeded to the house. They were met, 
 however, at the gate by a servant, who had been stationed 
 there to receive them, and by him were told who was pres- 
 ent, and what the occasion ; they were then invited to the 
 gentlemen's apartment, where they could prepare them- 
 selves. Having but little preparation to make, they were 
 soon ready, and were conducted to the drawing-room. Mr. 
 Brandon met them very cordially, and congratulated them 
 on becoming his guests so soon, under so unexpectedly pleas- 
 ant circumstances. Mrs. Brandon, too, came up and gave 
 them both a very friendly salutation, with but little for- 
 mality, and much real zest. 
 
 " More gracious than I had expected," whispered Henry 
 to Hunter, as Mrs. Brandon turned away from them. 
 
 It can easily be seen that in so small a company, where 
 each one, too, was so well-known to the other, that inter- 
 course very soon became easy and pleasing. Henry Bran- 
 don renewed the slight acquaintance of his boyhood wuth 
 Mr. Jerome, and Dr. Wilton he had already met several 
 times previously. 
 
 Henry Brandon w'as speaking to Mr. Jerome, and asking 
 about his old friend, Mr. Thaxtou, when Laura approached 
 them, and said : 
 
 "I congratulate you, cousin, in so soon falling into the 
 hands that I intended you should. I particularly enjoined 
 Mr. Jerome to be here to-night, just for your benefit. I 
 informed him of the peculiarities of your case : he is aware 
 of your reckless character, and all other idiosyncrasies." 
 
 " You scarcely gave the \vhole condition of your patient, 
 cousin. Why did you not describe it as reckless love?'* 
 
 "Well, sir," she replied, blushing very prettily, "it is 
 about the same." 
 
108 BLOOM AXD BRIER. 
 
 "Yes, as I think, it might be classed with 'vaulting 
 ambition,' which we have good authority for believing 
 sometimes 'overleaps itself.'" 
 
 " Ah ! that is a confession of the whole charge, and very 
 good evidence of some mental derangement." 
 
 " No, I think not," said Mr. Jerome, pleasantly ; " at 
 least not such as the law takes cognizance of; but cer- 
 tainly it is amenable to the charge of great ambitiousness, 
 since he aspires, in a day as it were, to an honor which 
 some I might speak of would be too happy to acquire after 
 a seven-years' service." Bowing, as he said this, with an 
 affected reference to himself, he turned his eye inquiringly 
 to theirs, as if in the act of saying something further, but 
 suppressed it. "What would you say, parson? " 
 
 "Oh, nothing — an idea flashed over my mind, but I 
 believe I have forgotten it — at least it *is too unfinished 
 to be expressed intelligibly." He might have said, " Your 
 merry jests may bring a sad reflex to the flowing current 
 of your fun." 
 
 Laura then spoke, saying that her conquests were so 
 easily and so rapidly made, as to deprive her of all the 
 pleasure of an effort. Seeing Sally Morton, at the instant, 
 off at a little distance, in conversation with Mrs. Brandon, 
 she spoke to her, and requested her presence for a short 
 while. As Sally came up, she begged her to accept a por- 
 tion of her spoils, as she really had more than she could 
 bear off from the field of her victories. 
 
 " Will you receive Mr. Jerome ? He is perfectly at my 
 disposal, I assure you — the right of conquest conferring that 
 power upon me." 
 
 " Yes, with pleasure, when so freely bestowed ; but you 
 should remember that the vanquished have rights which 
 all the laws of civilization require the victors to respect," 
 said Miss Morton. 
 
 " I will waive all such rights," said Mr. Jerome, " and 
 
RI.OOM AND BRIKR. 109 
 
 willingly transfer my allegiance, since it is valued so 
 lightly.'' 
 
 " Ah! I see I have conferred a pleasure, instead of inflict- 
 ing a punishment. You owe me at least a debt of grati- 
 tude for managing matters so happily for you, even if inad- 
 vertently done, and now leave you to your good fortune," 
 at the same time taking Henry Brandon's arm, and walk- 
 ing off. 
 
 Mr. Jerome laughingly replied to her, as she left : "And 
 to my admiration, too, for the skill with which you manage 
 your oivn." 
 
 Laura did not choose to reply to the last insinuation, 
 but went directly to the piano, where, instead of playing, 
 as her first motion indicated, she still held carelessly to his 
 arm, as if unconscious of her position. Henry Brandon 
 then said : 
 
 " I thought you were going to play, Laura?" 
 
 " Oh ! do you wish me to play ? " she said, starting a 
 little as he spoke. 
 
 "No; not if you do not wish." Looking at her then, 
 with what feeling he scarcely knew, he continued : " If 
 this be a right of the vanquished, defeat is worth ten thou- 
 sand victories." 
 
 She only replied to this remark by a pleasant smile, and 
 seeming, for the first time, conscious of her familiar sort of 
 position, quietly withdrew her arm, saying : " You must 
 not be any way exclusive in your attentions to me, cousin, 
 but to some extent must play the host." 
 
 " Play host so soon ! " said he, laughing. " Should I not 
 get aunt's permission ? " 
 
 Laura, seeing that she was not likely to foil his jests, 
 said: 
 
 " I will leave you, my young humorist, till you cool the 
 temper of your waggish tongue," and, with a coquettish 
 menace of her finger, left him standing at the piano, and 
 10 
 
110 BLOOM AND B R I E U . 
 
 joined Dr. Wilton and Lucy, who were near by, talking 
 very gayly. 
 
 " Doctor," said she, as she came up, " this is not the part 
 of the entertainment which you are under obligation to 
 sustain: your duties are specific, and were clearly desig- 
 nated. This my sister knows, yet she assists you in their 
 violation. Which shall I hold responsible?" 
 
 " My unworthy self, Miss Brandon, if there is any pen- 
 alty attached ; as I assure you none can be too great for 
 the sweet enjoyment of conversing with Miss Lucy Bran- 
 don." 
 
 " Very handsomely spoken ; but you might have added, 
 * unless it be for a sweeter ; ' therefore, sister, as a matter 
 of magnanimity, you must let me introduce the doctor to 
 this sweeter joy, and better fortune." 
 
 Lucy replied that she very reluctantly yielded, after so 
 gallant a speech ; but rather insisting on Dr. Wilton ac- 
 cepting her sister's proposition, left him with Laura. The 
 doctor offering her his arm, the two walked to where Mr. 
 Robert Brandon was sitting, by the side of Julia Hunter. 
 
 "Father," said Laura, "pardon me for interrupting your 
 pleasant little talk with Julia, but you are unconsciously 
 infringing on a right which had previously been conferred 
 on another. Dr. Wilton had been assigned to the post of 
 honor, at the side of Miss Hunter, even before he came." 
 
 " Certainly, my daughter ; I willingly yield my position 
 to the doctor's fresher years. The evening sun may be as 
 bright, but not so warm as morning's," at the same time 
 rising, offered the doctor his seat. 
 
 Dr. Wilton had already met with Miss Hunter ; but the 
 occasion being wanting in those easy features which Laura's 
 familiar words to her father at once imparted, he had got 
 separated from her. The conversation soon growing unem- 
 barrassed and pleasing, Laura left them to themselves, play- 
 fully enjoining the doctor to make himself exceedingly 
 
BLOOM AND B K 1 1: R . Ill 
 
 agreeable to Mi^s Hunter, .saying, she would be back very 
 soon for a report. 
 
 Dr. Wilton gracefully bowing to her, and regretting her 
 absence, very easily and naturally assumed the assigned 
 obligation of acting as the "gay cavalier" to Miss Hunter. 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 "And all went merry as a marriage bell." 
 
 "TT7HEN Lucy Brandon had left Dr. Wilton with her sister, 
 
 ' V she immediately joined Mr. Jerome and Miss Morton ; 
 but had not been with them but a few minutes, when young 
 Robert Hunter also came up. Lucy immediately addressed 
 him, as if with reproach, for not observing the understand- 
 ing between them, of being her attendant during the 
 evening. 
 
 The youth rather bashfully but boldly replied, that if he 
 had looked upon it as a right on his part, he certainly 
 should have attended to it, as he had more than once seen 
 it endangered. 
 
 " Come, Robert, come ! soothe that look of blushing in- 
 dignation, I pray you, as I do most honestly assure you 
 that your rights have not been damaged by any act of mine ; 
 go let me take your arm and leave Mr. Jerome and Miss 
 Sally alone. There is an old saying to the purport, that 
 over two often spoils company, and this may be one of the 
 occasions, both to them and to us." 
 
 While these little ingeniously artistic changes and con- 
 versations were going on, Henry Brandon still remained at 
 the piano, apparently listless, but really in a sort of specula- 
 tive revery. A strange desire was in his heart to follow 
 
112 BLOOM AND BRIER. 
 
 Laura in person, even as he was following her with his eye ; 
 but he could not, dared not. He wished to take her by the 
 hand, and to look into the calm depths of her soft, beautiful 
 eyes, and to laugh and be happy as he did so. " And 
 must I call this, love ? " said he to himself. As yet he dared 
 not; and yet it was his first — his maiden love. 
 
 " Ah ! what is love ? " 'Tis that which, even after years 
 have scattered their tinsel-grey through the once glossy 
 locks, and the vicissitudes of life have brought the chill 
 movement of age to the heart, still thrills the bended frame 
 at the mention of its name, and brings back to memory the 
 wild and bounding impulses of the early day. 
 
 Oh ! what is love ? It is that manly, generous, genial 
 feeling that breathes into the youthful soul such thoughts and 
 promptings to glorious actions, as may be favorably brought 
 to the feet of beauty, wherewith to claim the guerdon of 
 its smiles. 
 
 *Tis an emotion that reaches beyond the bounds of human 
 life, and seeks in the bright realm of the spirit-land the 
 realization of its gorgeous dreams ! It is that which comes 
 to the heart again, in the gloom of the olden time, and 
 lights up the evening hour of its sadness with the sweet 
 recollection of its morning hopes ! It is that which, in after 
 years, doth bring back the maiden form that floated so 
 gently along the unclouded skies, and gave its brightness 
 to the early paths of life. Ay ! and it may be a holy 
 memory, linking the living and the dead ! A lovely thing, 
 perhaps now folded in the cold still purity of the shroud 
 — a lost but remembered joy — an angel now, that comes 
 alone, from the silver courts in the hushed hours of the 
 night, and with unseen hand soothes the throbbing brow, 
 and gives to age and sorrow the happy dream and smile of 
 youth once more. A star ! in the eternal azure dome, which 
 from its far-off home still points our way through time ! 
 
 But heigho I Our readers must pardon us for this garru- 
 
BLOOM AND BRIER. 113 
 
 lous, sentimental sort of episode: it is the privilege of age, 
 and now let us forward to our story. 
 
 The conversation of our little party had now become so 
 gay and animated, that the dance which they had met for, 
 appeared well-nigh forgot. But there was one just making 
 his appearance, whose whole soul was absorbed in the re- 
 sponsible duties to which he had been invited. This was 
 the old black fiddler. Sanciio was now an old negro, very 
 black, slightly cross-eyed, tall and sinewy ; and, in his own 
 language, had been " much of a man in his young days." 
 He had come to Alabama with his master, and had long 
 remained his chief driver ; but was now too old for active 
 business, and had for several years done but little else than 
 wait upon himself Between his tobacco patch, basket- 
 making, chair-bottoming, and fiddling, his life was gliding 
 smoothly on to its close. His family had belonged to 
 that of his present master's family since the arrival of 
 Sancho's first African ancestor on the coast of America, a 
 fact upon which he, in common with all negroes, under the 
 same circumstances, ever prided themselves ; but particu- 
 larly did he pride himself upon it, as he thought there was 
 no family whose standing equalled the Brandons ; and 
 looked upon his young mistresses as very queens of per- 
 fection and beauty, with whom he, and his old wife also, 
 were very great favorites. 
 
 The proudest hours, now, of old Sancho's life, were those 
 when notified that his services on the violin were required 
 by " Miss Lucy and Miss Laura." 
 
 It is rather a singular fact — in which there is a deep 
 philosophy — that the most reliable and intelligent negroes 
 were those who felt the greatest reverence for white people 
 generally, and their owners particularly. 
 
 In addition to these common predilections, Sancho had 
 an especial respect for all Virginians, but a more especial 
 respect for those who were raised on the tide-water of 
 10* 
 
114 BLOOM AND BRIER. 
 
 " James Eiver," and any recollections of the habits and cus- 
 toms of that particular locality were always sufficient with 
 him to settle any disputed point of either conscience or fact. 
 
 Sancho had walked in at a side door, and seated himself 
 in the corner, near the piano, with an ostentatious but 
 very polite dignity. His arrival not occasioning that ces- 
 sation of mirth and general conversation as quickly as he 
 thought so important an event deserved, he spoke out, very 
 audibly and commandingly : " Ladies and gentlemen, whilst 
 I plays a cliune solus by myself, selec' yo' partners. Dat 
 which I is gwine to play you bein' once de favorite wid de 
 great folks on the tide-water, and are knowed by the name 
 of * Ole Virginny Break-down,' " and, without further cere- 
 mony, led off in fine style, with the tune known in negro 
 minstrelsy by that name. Concluding it, after so long a 
 time, with a grand flourish upon all his strings at once, as 
 nigh as he could do so, again sang out : *' Gentlemen, has 
 you chose your ladies? If you has, lead em out, and I 
 will play you what ar' called ' De Lady on de River,' sposed 
 to be Miss Marthy Dandidge, afterwards the lady of Gin- 
 eral Washington, bof of which I ar' ofin sede when I war 
 a boy, and bowed to em too." After these commands and 
 this sublime piece of information, he said to Laura, in an 
 undertone : " Miss Laura, will you sist me in dis, young 
 Missus, on de pianer ? " and then leading off in grand style, 
 was directly followed by Laura, who was not in the dance. 
 
 Henry Brandon had not joined the set, and now came 
 up to the piano, and stood near Laura as she accompanied 
 old Sancho. 
 
 As the lovely girl was rattling along with her music, 
 there was an expression of disinterested joy in every feature 
 of her innocent face, which seemed to him scarcely belong- 
 ing to earth. There was in it no taint of self, but purely 
 a desire of giving pleasure to others. She caught his eye 
 beaming abstractedly into her own, as these thoughts were 
 
BLOOM A N D IJ K I K II , 11 5 
 
 passing through his niiiul, and rather confusedly said to 
 hira : 
 
 " Why so quiet, cousin ? A penny for your thoughts." 
 
 " They were of thee ; but if ' music be the food of love,' 
 play on." 
 
 " Ah ! I feel honored in being the subject of so poetic 
 an abstraction. But tell me of the thoughts." 
 
 "I was just thinking why it was the fates had made us 
 cousins. 
 
 •''Earth holds no other like to thee, 
 Or, if it doth, in vain for me.'" 
 
 This was his first approach to calling her sweetheart, as 
 he had threatened. 
 
 "Why so, cousin?" she asked, blushing deeply in her 
 confusion. " Do you so regret the relationship that you 
 wish to repudiate it ? " 
 
 " No — unless I could improve it," said he, with an effort 
 at a laugh. 
 
 " It 's improvement then you desire, is it ? What would 
 you substitute, my noble kinsman ? " 
 
 She was innocent in this open question, but immediately 
 saw the force of it, and, her cheek again suffused with 
 blushes, was tremulously awaiting Henry Brandon's reply, 
 which was fortunately interrupted by old Sancho saying : 
 
 " Excuse me, young Misses ; but you is raly playin' outen 
 chune ; " then turning his cross-eyes to Henry, and striking 
 his instrument with an extra force, said : " You was de 
 occasion of dat. Mass Henry ; " and fearing that the danc- 
 ers might notice the confusion, quickly gave out, " Prom- 
 enade ! " Then speaking to Thomas Hunter — who had not 
 appeared to hear him — said : " Promenade, ]\Iass Tom ! " 
 
 The set was soon over, and the old fellow again sang out : 
 
 " Seat your partners I " 
 
116 BLOOM AND BRIER. 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 "Our revels now are ended; these onr actors', as I foretold you, were 
 all spirits, and are melted into air, into thin air." 
 
 OLD SANCHO, after a few minutes rest, resumed the 
 sweet discourses of his violin, which gave a bright 
 animation to the conversation between the young people. 
 
 Some little incident of the dance being mentioned, Dr. 
 Wilton — who pretended to be a Presbyterian — appealed 
 to know if it was allowable for the Episcopal clergy to 
 participate in so unspiritual a pastime as dancing. 
 
 The question had been suggested to the doctor by Sally 
 Morton, who immediately declared that, even if permis- 
 sible, it certainly indicated great looseness in the rules of 
 the church. 
 
 Mr. Jerome was not prepared for the suddenness of this 
 attack, and particularly for the coinciding with it of Miss 
 Morton, who had danced with him ; but quickly discov- 
 ering the pre-arranged jest, joined in with the spirit of it, 
 and replied : 
 
 "Miss Sally, neophytes are always zealous, if not sin- 
 cere : I shall therefore have to excuse you for following up 
 the prejudices of the Baptists, to whom you belong. I 
 believe they say that dancing was the cause of John the 
 Baptist losing his head, whom they very boldly but erro- 
 neously declare to be the author of their church. Yet 
 you have no right to a use of this singular prejudice, since 
 you, on this occasion, played the part of Siloani." 
 
 " Yes, I agree with you, parson, that Miss Morton well 
 represented the part of Siloam, if beautiful dancing is all 
 that is necessary ; but we cannot let you escape, even to 
 pay her a just compliment." 
 
 In 'this while they had nearly all gathered about Mr. 
 Jerome, an if to charge him with an unclerical example — 
 
BLOOM AND BRIKR. 117 
 
 even the rather retiring Mr. Campbell, while professing to 
 be a liberal Methodist, joined in the general attack. 
 
 "Wrong, as I may be, my most exemplary parishioners, 
 I yet occupy a better position than any of you, since I dis- 
 cover that I am a victim to a conspiracy, and ought to put 
 in a plea to the jurisdiction, and not' make any defence 
 whatever before this inquisition, particularly as I discover 
 so strong an element of heresy in its composition. I will 
 say, though, to Dr. AVilton, that as there is nothing in the 
 Scriptures against dancing, there is nothing againlt it in 
 our rubrics ; it therefore can only be condemned where 
 there is some reprehensible feeling. Sterne, in his * Senti- 
 mental Journey,' speaks of a very pious class of people, 
 whom he met somewhere in Switzerland, that danced as 
 a part of their religious ceremonies. I will dismiss the 
 doctor, however, with the remark, that his denomination 
 is not a proper tribunal before which matters of church 
 can be arraigned. It is but a Puritan association or insti- 
 tution, given over to all manner of heresies, from ivltch- 
 craft down, and possesses no more apostolic consecration, 
 and no more usefulness, than a Yankee free-school." 
 
 There being no other, even nominal Presbyterian pres- 
 ent, they all enjoyed the manner in which he dispatched 
 the doctor's church. 
 
 " But, Mr. Jerome," said the doctor, " I hardly think it 
 fair that you let the IMethodists off. Mr. Campbell here 
 united in the charge against your church." 
 
 "No, you are right, doctor; I think I must tell the 
 truth on Mr. Campbell's denomination also, since he has 
 made it an accuser of my church. Mr. Wesley was a 
 good man, and had always been a good Churchman ; but 
 becoming possessed, I suppose, of something like worldly 
 ambition, after he came to America — where the field was 
 open — thought to get up a church of his own, whicli he 
 supposed himself privileged to do, so long as he did not 
 
]18 BLOOM AND BRIER. 
 
 pretend to invest it with an apostolic character. In few 
 "vrords, Methodism is a root, of lower order, of the Church, 
 and a higher one of Puritanism. As a practical system 
 of preaching to meet the religious requirements of this 
 country at that time, it was an improvement; and the error 
 of it was, that he detached his improvement from the 
 Church, and endeavored to get a patent for it. Their ' Dis- 
 cipline,' as they call it, in regard to worldly matters, had 
 its foundation, first, in the spirit which arrogated superior 
 grace, and next, in the peculiar circumstances of the people 
 — they were in a sort of quasi exile from the mother coun- 
 try, poor and sorrowful. Their ordinances reflect these 
 facts — their music, even, tells of social dejection, while 
 their songs were the outpourings of human despair, and 
 clearly express a brighter hope in death than in life. Their 
 happiness seemed to date itself from the hour of disso- 
 lution. Poor, moaning, and resigned in its submissions, it 
 was yet bitter in its expressions, and even happy in its 
 grief. This is Methodism as it was : what it is, it is diffi- 
 cult for any one to say." 
 
 All laughed heartily at Campbell and his Church ; but 
 he, in reply, said : 
 
 " To show you, Mr. Jerome, that I am not amenable to 
 any of these grave charges, I not only forgive you, but 
 invite you to join us in our next dance." 
 
 Old Sancho was now called on by Henry Brandon for 
 music. The old man responded promptly, and cried out 
 to them to get their partners. Every one insisted on Mr. 
 rjerome joining them again, but he pleasantly refused, 
 assigning as his reason that he had not danced before for 
 several years, and it had fatigued him. 
 
 As the company w^ent out on the floor, old Sancho very 
 pompously announced that the "chune" he would play 
 them was called " Ronoke," and said to be the favorite of the 
 great Patrick Henry, who was " hisself a great fiddler." 
 
BLOOM AND BRIER. 119 
 
 Sally Norton, by agreement, was this time left out, and 
 had consented to assist old Sancho, who had requested it, 
 in his music. AVhen the dancers had got fully under way', 
 and she in full accord with the old black fiddler, but ap- 
 parently unconscious of the elegance of her execution, Mr. 
 Jerome walked to the piano and seated himself near her. 
 Observing her seeming indifference, he remarked that she 
 certainly did not appreciate the beauties of " Ronoke." 
 
 " Yes, sir ; I think it has a very decided melody, and I 
 really admire it." 
 
 " I thought not, as I have never heard you play such 
 
 music 
 
 "No, I do not very often ; but for no other reason than 
 that the world is governed in music, as it is in other things 
 
 — by fashion — even certain styles of opinion get to be 
 fashionable, and few are found bold enough to differ. 
 Fashion too, always, I believe, relates to that which is new 
 
 — indeed, is almost synonymous with newness. In music, 
 certain songs, pieces, and styles, get to be called old; andi 
 therefore, ceasing to be fashionable, are never called for." 
 
 "The reason then of you playing scientific music, is sim- 
 ply because it happens now to be fashionable?" 
 
 " To a great extent, yes ; and because no one has the 
 courage to ask for any other kind. .Alusic, up to a certain 
 point, represents feeling; beyond that it becomes a science. 
 My tastes and feelings run entirely with the simpler styles 
 and I confess that, at heart, I am old-fashioned enough to 
 love that most to which our old love-songs are set." 
 
 The expression of this sentiment particularly pleased 
 Mr. Jerome, for two reasons — first, because it coincided 
 with his own ; and again, because it was significant of some 
 sympathies between them, which he was anxious to believe 
 did exist. It struck a chord in his own heart, and he re- 
 plied with much apparent interest : 
 
 " There is nothing that more decidedly reflects the char- 
 
120 BLOOM AND BRIER. 
 
 acter of a people, and illustrates their social life, than 
 music. You will seldom see an individual who loves simple, 
 natural melody, who has not more or less refined feeling 
 that can always be appealed to. Nature seems to meet its 
 own laws ; and so far as this country is concerned, I have 
 remarked that artistic music has only succeeded to the ag6 
 of great mind, and to truthful and just thought and action. 
 I mean that as one has appeared to recede, the other has 
 seemed to approach. Of course, I do not say that one is 
 the cause of the other, I only speak of a fact ; and the fact 
 is first observable in those quarters where the natural 
 nobleness of society, with its generous feelings and gentle 
 sympathies, have first given way to heartless artificialities, 
 and cold, senseless abstractions. I would instance the large 
 cities." 
 
 "Your observations are quite sweeping, Mr. Jerome, 
 and unless you modify them, I shall be compelled to take 
 up the foils in defence of my new friends — the Operas — 
 come, sir ; can't you ? " ^ 
 
 These words while banteringly, were so pleasantly spoken, 
 that he was half disposed to yield from complaisance ; but 
 true to the expression of his opinions, he replied : 
 
 " 'No, I cannot ; what I have said, I am satisfied, is even 
 less than true. From observation and from reflection, I 
 have concluded that most of the great thought and correct 
 feeling, which permanently direct good government and 
 healthful society, proceed from the natural and simpler 
 circles, where there is but little artificiality of any sort. 
 "Nature produces the one, while what is called society forces 
 up the other." 
 
 "There are two cities, Mr. Jerome, which you might 
 except from the sweeping tones of your anathemas. One is 
 Charleston, my own paternal city, and the other is Boston." 
 
 " The claim you put in for Charleston is certainly a very 
 good one with ine, Miss Sally, yet the truth of what I have 
 
BLOOM AND BRIER. 121 
 
 said, is especially illustrated by those very two iiistancos. 
 There are idiosyncrasies peculiar to each of them, which 
 gives them a secmino; antipodal appearance. Yet there is 
 a sympathy and similarity in results between their life and 
 style of thought that make the cases quite remarkable. 
 Neither of these, however, are at all remarkable for their 
 musical tastes." 
 
 " I did not request you to make an exception of Boston 
 because of any sympathy or admiration, but because of its 
 acknowledged literary tastes ; but you astonish me when 
 you place these two cities in parallel lines, and will still ask 
 for the exclusion of Charleston from the severity of your 
 sentence." 
 
 " Where you are concerned, Miss Morton," said the young 
 parson, smilingly, "my emotions are all of the most gallant 
 character, and I now have every desire to grant your re- 
 quest; but as I cannot identify you with Charleston, you 
 must allow me to leave her beside her Puritan sister. 
 Sociological heresies are the chief fruitage of Bostonism, 
 while political heresies is that of Charlestonism. And on 
 the principle that extremes meet, there is a baleful sort of 
 sympathy in their individual results ; and I have an idea 
 that, unitedly, they wull exert a malign influence on our 
 national fortunes, at no very distant day. Puritanism and 
 Huguenotism have the same ethnology remotely ; the only 
 difference is in the grafting — one has an English stock, the 
 other French." 
 
 " Pardon me for interrupting you, Mr. Jerome ; but have 
 you read Captain Maryat's book on America?" 
 
 " No, I have not." 
 
 "There is a very laughable burlesque in the article 
 on Boston, in regard to the money-loving character and 
 literary qualifications of the pretentious Bostonians. He 
 says, being in conversation with one of the leading lit- 
 erary characters of the city, the gentleman, in speaking 
 11 
 
122 BLOOM AND BRIER. 
 
 of certain speculations, regretted not having gone into 
 them, as he " would not only have doubled and tliribhled 
 his money, hut fourbled undfibbled it." 
 
 Both of them laughed heartily at the characteristic jest, 
 and rose from the piano, as the set was over. 
 
 Mr. Robert Brandon at this time saw a good opportunity, 
 as the little company sat grouped together, to make the 
 proposition for them all to accompany him to Gregory's 
 Spring, on the next day. The proposal was readily agreed 
 to — as it had already been spoken of before — and every 
 arrangement was quickly made. 
 
 As soon as they were a little rested, dancing was again 
 resumed, and kept up at a merry pace until twelve o'clock, 
 when Mr. Brandon, announcing the hour, proposed that 
 the evening be closed with an old-fashioned Scotch reel — 
 every one to join it. Tliis suggestion was at once adopted, 
 and a reel soon formed, with Mr. Robert Brandon and his 
 sister-in-law, Mrs. St. George Brandon, at the head, with 
 Mr. Jerome and Mrs. Robert Brandon, at the foot. 
 
 The fun now ran high and furious, so much so, that 
 many of the negroes, who were dancing on the galleries, 
 stopped their own amusement to witness that going on in 
 the parlor. 
 
 We have not, as yet, mentioned a feature of the even- 
 ing's entertainments, but will now do so, as one so illus- 
 trative of the relationships, in the olden time, between the 
 whites and negroes, masters and slaves, and so refutatory of 
 the falsehoods since uttered in regard to them. 
 
 Individual falsehood is certainly very disgraceful to the 
 guilty party, whether published or spoken ; but for a whole 
 people to unite in a chain of wretched slanders upon an 
 innocent party, surpasses all history except that of our 
 own Northern people. 
 
 Though the South is to be blamed for her ill-advised 
 manner of retaliation — secession — it was yet but a law 
 
BLOOM AND BKIEK. 123 
 
 of nature that she should have I'ult a thorough contempt 
 and a bitter hatred for such a people. And now that their 
 undoubted malignity has been gratified by a destruction 
 of our fortunes, they might at least acknowledge the slan- 
 der — and even more, since they have grown rich by their 
 philanthropy. They might at least propose some method 
 of honorable compensation. 
 
 As soon as it had become known on " the quarter " that 
 there was to be a dance up at the " yard," every young 
 negro on the plantation assembled there, and, during the 
 entire evening, were dancing on the galleries, and in the 
 yard, to the same music, and with the same well-marked 
 pleasure of their young masters and mistresses within. 
 Just after the dancing stopped, Mrs. Brandon had sent out 
 the remainder of the abundant amd elegant supper — wliich 
 had been standing in the dining-room — to be divided 
 among them. After eating, they all united in one of their 
 simple, but highly musical walking-songs, and marched in 
 order back to their cabins — never dreamino- or desirinsr 
 that this happy and patriarchal sort of relationship to their 
 masters would be destroyed by Boston fanaticism forcing 
 them upon an effort at equality, which the God of nature 
 has designed never to be consummated. But so goes the 
 world — the wheel of fortune is everything, and we may 
 be up next, and possibly will behave as meanly. Retali- 
 ation seems to be the highest law of human morals ; but 
 retribution is God's own law. We had slaves — they have 
 the bonds for which they were sold. AVe bide our time. 
 
124 BLOOM AND BRIER. 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 "And there is e'en a happiness, 
 That makes the heart afraid." 
 
 THE eleventh of October, 18 — , was one of the blandest, 
 gentlest days of the year — it was clear, calm, softly 
 beautiful, and had that mystic ring peculiar to the requiem 
 which nature ever sings in the South to the departing glory 
 of summer. The landscape mingles in this sighing lamen- 
 tation, this gentle melancholy, and adds its share to the 
 sweet sadness of the season. The leaves of the trees have 
 faded away their heavy green, and the shadows they cast 
 are not so deep and dense. The flowers, too, that in their 
 hour of gorgeous beauty reflected proudly back the blaz- 
 ing rays of the summer sun, now droop their heads, and 
 tint their petals with the mellowed hues of the surrounding 
 scene. These make up the epithalamium of our Southern 
 winter, ere the harsh hours of its boreal reign begins. 
 
 Human life owes much to the autumn of the year — the 
 boiling blood of summer flows cooler to the heart, and its 
 swift emotions are soothed to a gentler speed. It is a season 
 of generous forgiveness — a type of death itself, before it 
 flings upon the human form the stark shadows of the tomb. 
 
 We have said the day was clear and calm, and lovely, 
 and so it was ; yet there was that peculiar sadness in it 
 which some days have, that none can feel or see, save those 
 whose fortunes are to be effected. 
 
 Henry Brandon felt this strange influence, but could not 
 trace it to its source ; the conformities iji the far off*, unseen 
 diagram of life, and the combinations in the crucible of 
 events which make up each one's destiny, had not yet de- 
 veloped themselves ; but only glimmering their slanting 
 rays upon his heart, were already lightning him on to the 
 point of its solution. He was only waiting for its coming. 
 
BLOOM AND BKIER. 125 
 
 Carriages, horses, aud servants were already at the gate, 
 in readiness for the trip to Gregory's Spring. Neither of 
 the Mrs. Brandons were going, but had united in arrang- 
 ing every possible thing for the comfort of their daughters 
 and their company. Mrs. Robert Brandon had attended 
 to a most sumptuous lunch being prepared, while the girls 
 had taken the extra precaution to store away a few bot- 
 tles of wine, " for the pleasure of father and his friends," 
 as they salt/; but quite likely with an eye to their own 
 friends. 
 
 After a delightful drive they reached the Spking in good 
 time. We might have said delightful drive and ride; for 
 be it known that in those days it was the style for young 
 gentlemen to accompany the carriages of ladies on horse- 
 back, and we have to regret the subsequent change — buggies 
 being far less knightly in appearance, and very decidedly 
 Yankeeish. 
 
 Though reaching there quite early, there had already 
 met a very large concourse of people from the surrounding 
 country, for the various purposes of seeing each other, 
 enjoying a good dinner, and hearing two speakers, considered 
 by their respective parties as the most eloquent of the State, 
 and not inferior to any in the South. 
 
 These semi-social, semi-political gatherings, with a public 
 dinner gotten up by subscription, for hearing the discussion 
 of topics which subsequently lent their influence to bringing 
 on the late civil war, were at that time, and long continued 
 to be a marked feature in the political life of the South ; 
 and had much to do with the cultivation of that peculiar elo- 
 quence, by which the multitude was lashed into rage at the 
 overdrawn pictures of its wrongs. The perfect equality of 
 all who met on such occasions, the general abandon of the 
 b-urroundings, and the political rivalries, amounting to per- 
 sonal identification with speakers, were the sources of great 
 encouragement to aspirants for the honors of "stump 
 11* 
 
126 BLOOM AND BRIER. 
 
 oratory." It became a perfect system of action and reaction, 
 of people upon the speaker, and speaker upon the people, 
 in which both became terribly damaged at a later day. 
 This style of political debate propagated quite as much 
 error in statistics, opinions, and theories, as it did of truth 
 as a sentiment, (to say the very best of it.) Contributing 
 very greatly, not only to the prejudices between the sections, 
 but to bitter antagonisms between our own people, it had 
 much to do with the defeat of the South in the subsequent 
 war, by creating party resentment. What one party desired 
 the other invariably opposed. Without that deep-set party 
 division of sentiment, the South would not have been de- 
 feated. However, right or wrong, her nerve, with all the 
 odds against her, was sufficient for victory. 
 
 At the usual hour the speaking began. Mr. Brandon 
 and Colonel Haywood, each occupying an hour, were each 
 in turn pronounced to be unanswerable. 
 
 The "Barbecue" was very soon announced, and the vast 
 concourse began to move in the direction of the tables. 
 
 Just at this time, Mr. Brandon was approached by old 
 Mr. Gray, and cordially congratulated for his able and 
 eloquent defence of the Whig party. This was very pleas- 
 ing to Mr. Brandon, as Mr. Gray was one of the leading 
 Whig citizens of the county, a gentleman of excellent sense, 
 and fine general information; and one of the really wealthy 
 men of the South. After some general conversation be- 
 tween the two, as to the prospects of Mr. Clay's success, 
 Mr. Gray said : 
 
 " Well, sir, I have, at the particular request of my wife 
 and daughter, come to ask you to lunch with us privately, 
 at our carriage." 
 
 " I would do so with pleasure," replied Mr. Brandon ; 
 " but my own daughters are here, and have a good deal of 
 young company with them." 
 
 " Oh ! " said the old gentleman, rubbing his hands with 
 
BLOOM A XD BRIER. 127 
 
 delight at the prospect of au increase to his company ; " the 
 more the merrier. I expect we have enough for all, and to 
 spare. I will be very happy to be introduced to your 
 daughters and their company." 
 
 Mr. Brandon saw that he had to lunch with hi.s old 
 friend, and proposed to walk to his carriage, where he said 
 he should find them. On reaching there, all Mr. Brandon's 
 young friends were present, except Henry Brandon, who 
 had not yet come up. 
 
 Mr. Brandon introduced Mr. Gray to his daughters, when 
 the old gentleman told them he had a special commission 
 from his wife and daughter, to ask Mr. Brandon and friends 
 to lunch with them at their carriage. 
 
 " And not being present themselves, I can't well return 
 "without him ; indeed, I almost fear to do so, as you know 
 the welcome of a bearer of bad news." 
 
 The girls seeing that the invitation looked to no refu- 
 sal, consented to go without further hesitation. 
 
 "But, Mr. Gray," said Laura, "you probably are not 
 aware of the extent of our dining retinue. Mrs. Gray will 
 certainly not expect such a train as we bear." 
 
 "Ah ! the length of it will only give us the greater credit 
 for hospitality ; and then, too, if we should possibly fall 
 short, we will send and borrow your dinner. Oh, no, my 
 dear daughter, the train you carry can be no objection, not 
 at all ; so far from it, a very decided recommendation." 
 
 " Another objection to our swooping down upon Mrs. 
 Gray in such unexpected numbers is, that we shall never 
 get through the introductions intelligibly." 
 
 "Yes, yes, that is a great difficulty; so we will not 
 attempt it, but all get acquainted as they can. Come, let 
 us go ; we are already expected, and every possible diffi- 
 culty is removed." 
 
 They found Mrs. Gray and her daughter standing near 
 their carriage. A general introduction of Mr. Brandon 
 
123 BLOOM AND BRIER. 
 
 and his friends was given by the old gentleman, and par- 
 ticular ones by the young people to each other, as well as 
 they could manage it ; at all events, they were not long in 
 getting very well acquainted, and very easy. 
 
 They had quite half finished their repast before Henry 
 Brandon came up. His uncle immediately introduced 
 him to Mr. Gray and his wife ; and as he turned from 
 them, Laura introduced him to Mary Gray. 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 " Care to our coffin adds a nail no doubt, 
 And every grin so merry draws one out." 
 
 QUIZZICAL glances shot from the eyes of Violet and 
 Henry Brandon, as Laura introduced him to Miss 
 Gray. But she was all that Violet had represented her. 
 She was tall in stature, but very handsomely developed, 
 and moved with an ease of action not often equalled. 
 Altogether, her appearance was distinguished, and well 
 calculated to attract attention and admiration. Her eye 
 was a full dark-blue, with just enough of fire in it to give 
 its expression a high intellectuality, while her exquisitely 
 chiselled mouth and chin at once conveyed the impression 
 of great mirthfulness, good feeling, and fearlessness. 
 
 For some mysterious reason, Henry Brandon found him- 
 self irresistibly drawn to her, and was not long in engaging 
 in a free and pleasing conversation. Old Mr. Gray, with 
 his quick eye, soon observed the friendship which had 
 been so suddenly extemporized between them, and with 
 evident pleasure took frequent occasion, while talking to 
 Mr. Brandon, to look that way. 
 
 Among many high, stern, and manly qualities, the old 
 
BLOOM AND BRIER. 129 
 
 gentleman had many little eccentricities, among which 
 was an unsurpassed delight in the love affairs of young 
 people, and with all his industry and energy, always found 
 time to direct attention to them. Nothing was to him of 
 more importance than helping such matters along. 
 
 Observing, from time to time, the cozy, mirthful sort 
 of intimacy which we have just spoken of between his 
 daughter and Henry Brandon, he could no longer restrain 
 his inclination to join them, and, suddenly leaving Mr. 
 Brandon in company with Mrs. Gray and some mutual 
 friends who had come up, he turned his attention to the 
 young people, as if to inquire whether they had been 
 properly attended to by his daughter, and became engaged 
 in a general conversation with them, seeming to enjoy it, 
 too, with great zest. After conversing with them for sev- 
 eral minutes, and making himself very agreeable, he man- 
 aged to cut Henry Brandon off to himself, but as if by 
 accident, saying to him, as he did so : 
 
 " I knew your father, Mr. Brandon, rather intimately, 
 in his lifetime. He was much younger than I was ; but 
 as we had both come to the country when it was new, and 
 both strangers, we became quite friends. He was very 
 fond of hunting ; and as I lived in a very fine deer range, 
 he frequently called in to see me ; and I remember, too, 
 having seen you with him occasionally. You were a little 
 fellow then, but rode your pony very finely. I should not 
 have known you, however, to-day, as you have grown to 
 manhood since. Why is it I have never seen you ? " 
 
 " I suppose it is because I have been absent for several 
 years at college, and have only returned within the last 
 four weeks." 
 
 " Ah, ha ! yes, so I suppose. At a Northern college ? " 
 
 " Yes, sir."" 
 
 "Well, I must confess to some prejudice against the 
 North, of late, particularly though on account of her 
 
130 BLOOM AND BRIER. 
 
 pragmatical conduct toward the South in regard to African 
 slavery. I have travelled among them a great deal ; and 
 though I knew them, in a general way, to be a very small- 
 minded, inquisitive, conceited sort of people, I was willing 
 to forgive them for their littleness ; but I am not disposed 
 to excuse their hypocritical interference in matters that do 
 not concern them. The whole movement is entirely one 
 of meanness; for even supposing that slavery is wrong, 
 their ships brought them over as long as the trade was 
 legitimate, and after it ceased to be, their ships it was that 
 long ran the 'middle passage.' But soon finding that 
 slave labor was not profitable in their cold climate, they 
 sold them to us ; and scarcely had they got the cash in 
 their pockets, before they began crying out against it as a 
 great sin and a national disgrace." 
 
 " Yes," said Henry Brandon, " you are correct in your 
 remarks upon their character as a people ; and though I 
 met with but few abolitionists, they were yet organizing 
 very resolutely, and will before long become formidable. 
 They are essentially a democratic people, and giving every 
 question a political complexion, they soon have them be- 
 fore the public, and make political success turn upon them. 
 In short, they make every subject a political one, just as 
 they have free-masonry, temperance, religion, etc. I was 
 struck with a remark which Mr. John Randolph made 
 to me, on meeting with him at Philadelphia. He had known 
 my father, and took the liberty to advise me to go back to 
 the South — ' to William and Mary, sir ; to William and 
 Mary, the only gentlemen's college on this continent. These 
 people will not do, sir ; not reliable, sir, in anything— you 
 can forgive a crime, but not a meanness' " 
 
 The old gentleman, after laughing heartily at the fero- 
 cious humor of Mr. Randolph, said : 
 
 " Yes, there is too much truth in the remark ; and unless 
 the course of the abolitionists, which is, as you say, from 
 
BLOOM AND BRIER. l.-^I 
 
 the peculiar character of that people, bound to idciitit'v 
 itself with political questions — and, unless the course of the 
 Democratic party in the South can be arrested in some 
 manner, our government is sure to fail." 
 
 " I have never paid a great deal of attention to political 
 matters, but am disposed to think with you; so far as I 
 know, I am a Whig, from instinct and from reason." 
 
 This announcement was so pleasing and so satisfactory 
 to the old gentleman that, after a few other commonplace 
 remarks, he turned from the young people back to :\rr. 
 Brandon, who was now surrounded by other friends who 
 had come up to see him. 
 
 Miss Gray, by an apparently careless movement, came to 
 the side of Henry Brandon, and relieved the awkward sort 
 of silence in which he had been left by her father, by 
 saying : 
 
 " Has my father been examining you, Mr. Brandon, as 
 to your classical attainments or political affinities? for next 
 to his Church, he believes in the Whig party, and next to 
 that, in education." 
 
 "In neither directly,'' said Henry Brandon, laughingly; 
 " but indirectly in both." 
 
 ** You are a Whig, of course." 
 
 " Oh, yes ; and I went into a regular confession to him, 
 and I think we are now most wonderful friends." 
 
 " I am glad to hear that you impressed each other so 
 favorably ; there can be but one drawback to his taking 
 you into fellowship with him, and I am astonished that he 
 omitted bringing you out on that point. I mean your 
 Church relationships." 
 
 " No, he did not even refer to that subject ; but I am easy 
 on that head, and am ready to subscribe to any that he 
 prefers, provided it will perfect the bond of amity be- 
 tween us." 
 
 "Will you let me ask you, Mr. Brandon, what Church 
 
132 BLOOM AND BRIER. 
 
 rejoices in the pleasure of your preference and patronage, 
 outside of such influences?" 
 
 " The Episcopal, of course." 
 
 " Then there is some excuse for the plasticity of your 
 conscience." 
 
 " Well, Miss, I will only retort the sarcasm, by asking 
 if no consideration can be ofl^ered, sufficient to induce you 
 to come to that church." 
 
 " No ; I cannot think of any just now." 
 
 "Then," said he, bursting out in a laugh, "shall I have 
 to go to yours — your father's, I mean. Will you now be 
 kind enough to inform me which that is, so that I may take 
 the required steps of admission?" 
 
 "Methodist, of course; which other could it be?" 
 
 "Methodist! Oh! spirits of the just made perfect! Right 
 bad, most truly ; but then I will stand to it, if need be : 
 so when we meet again, you may expect me to have ac- 
 quired many of its grim accomplishments, and to be an 
 adept in many of its sombre ceremonies. I believe Mr. 
 Watts is your psalmist, and with a rueful face I will sing 
 you a song most dolefully ; in short, I shall be prepared to 
 perform any part, necessary to securing your favor — no, 
 excuse me again — your father's favor." 
 
 ** Except to pray without a book," she added, in his own 
 vein of fun. 
 
 " Well, yes ; I may have to use a book for a short time, 
 but think I shall soon be able to make up as long, ram- 
 bling, and tangled an orison, as your most gifted gospeller." 
 
 "Mr. Brandon," she said, laughing outright, "I fear you 
 are either witty at our expense, or too willing a convert ; if 
 either, and I should communicate the belief to my father, 
 the charm which you have thrown around him would at 
 once be dissolved forever." 
 
 " For mercy's sake, then, never breathe so sacrilegious a 
 suspicion against my new-born zeal, or make a suggestion 
 
B L O O M A N D B R I K R . 1 33 
 
 that would so cruelly affect my spiritual fortunes ; as I have 
 fully made up my mind to ally myself with him in some 
 manner." 
 
 '* Have you any preference?" said Laura, who had just 
 come up. 
 
 " Perhaps I might have, but then any will do, cousin 
 Laura." 
 
 With a mischievous twinkle in her eye, she then said: 
 
 " How would you like to get the appointment of sexton 
 to the church in Mr. Gray's neighborhood?" 
 
 " I had not exactly thought of that degree. But, hush ! 
 cousin Laura ; you break the chain of my speculations, 
 and make but a ghostly jest." 
 
 " Pardon me, Miss Gray, for my interference in your con- 
 versation : I only wished to put his professions to some test." 
 
 " Oh, certainly ! I am glad that you came to my assist- 
 ance and suggested that idea, as I think that office is now 
 vacant, which will allow of his opening negotiations with 
 my father immediately for promotion to it," and laughed 
 heartily at catching him so amusingly. 
 
 " Young ladies, I shall have to become offended with 
 vou, if further derision of my new-born zeal is indulged 
 in." 
 
 ■ Both of them protesting against having any such feeling, 
 he said: 
 
 " Well, to be in earnest — as this matter properly requires 
 me to be — I can say that I have one advantage, which 
 will gainsay any evil report which you may make of me, 
 and that is that I am a converted man. I believe what is 
 called * CONVERSION ' is an article in the Methodist faith, 
 is it not?" 
 
 " Yes, I will suppose it, just to let you develop your 
 plan. Let me hear you, Mr. Brandon." 
 
 " We will suppose, then, that penitent persons are conr 
 verted in one thing at a time." 
 12 
 
134 BLOOM AND BRIER. 
 
 " Yes, we will consider it so for the present." 
 
 "Then I come in under the saving ordinance, for I 
 came here in the undivided idolatry of my lovely cousin 
 Laura ; but now I find myself — shall I say it ? " 
 
 " Certainly ! " 
 
 "A worshipper not only of that bright morning star of 
 my life, but of that beautiful dawning gray that follows 
 upon its setting." 
 
 All three laughed heartily at the conceit, and assured 
 him that his effort at being facetious was very decidedly 
 meritorious, on the ground that perfect and unexpected 
 absurdity was a nigh approach to humor. 
 
 " My cousin," said Laura, " your infatuation even sur- 
 passes your impudence. Allow me, Miss Gray, to inter- 
 vene in his behalf, by informing you that we had a bottle 
 of wine or so in our carriage." 
 
 " Now, dear Laura, do not, I beseech you, destroy my 
 budding reputation with Miss Gray ! You insinuate that 
 my asseverations are intoxication, instead of that heaving 
 of the heart in an effort at unweaving i^ destiny — yea, the 
 very inspiration of love itself for Miss Gray's Church and 
 its members." 
 
 At this both girls literally screamed with laughter, 
 Henry Brandon joining them. Miss Gray then said to 
 Laura, that no apologies were necessary, as she felt too 
 greatly flattered to be offended — "He has invested me with 
 almost magical powers of infatuation," then turning to 
 Henry Brandon, remarked : 
 
 *' Yes, sir, I invite you to the bosom of our Church, where 
 you will always find the brothers ready to receive young 
 wanderers into the fold of safety and love." 
 
 "And love! did you say, Miss Gray? Are the sisters, 
 too, as kind ? " 
 
 " Oh, yes, sometimes," laughing at his cunning humor. 
 
 " Say but always ; and I go without standing on the order 
 
BLOOM AND BIIIEK. 135 
 
 of my going. Yes, Mis^s Gray, our meeting has had a good 
 deal of magic in it, and let me explain. Some six or eight 
 weeks since, I returned home after a four years' absence ; 
 since then I have seen nothing after the fashion of your 
 lovely sex, save these two beautiful cousins of mine, and 
 as you may easily imagine, my fate was fast being sealed." 
 Then pointing to Laura, said — " What could I do, but 
 yield this young heart of mine to her love and worship. 
 Even knowing too, that it would bring upon me all the 
 woes of Troy ; since I would have to steal this lovely 
 Helen, did I succeed at all." 
 
 "Cousin," said Laura, "your figure, or comparison, is an 
 unfortunate one, as well as a solecism. Moreover, neither 
 Miss Gray nor myself will consent to hold this alternate 
 sort of position, particularly when so boldly avowed." 
 
 " Oh ! Miss Brandon, I scarce know how to refuse an 
 interest in so fine a gem, and am even quite willing to ac- 
 cept a secondary one to your own." 
 
 "His value is full sufficient for division, I acknowledo-e: 
 but as his kinswoman, with some show of right, permit me 
 to be generous and confer upon you a perfect title." 
 
 "Laura," interrupted Henry Brandon, rather more 
 hurriedly than he was aware of, or was consistent with the 
 careless, dashing part he had been playing, " will you not 
 consent to retain an interest in your forlorn kinsman. 
 Methinks the security which two such proprietors would 
 aflTord, is not to be yielded up without some trepidation at 
 the possible results." 
 
 " Do, Miss Brandon, retain an interest. I will only ask 
 a reversionary claim, in event of your becoming weary of 
 the original possession." 
 
 At this moment, Mr. Gray, attracted by the merriment, 
 returned to them, when Henry Brandon became quite re- 
 ticently grave and dignified. The two young girls, with 
 whom he had been indulging in his mad jests, could 
 
136 BLOOM AND BRIER. 
 
 scarcely restrain an outburst of laughter ; and stepping a 
 little back, shook their fingers banteringly at him, as much 
 as to say, Now, my gay Lothario, let us see you behave 
 yourself. 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 "But I am constant as the northern star, 
 Of whose true-fixed and resting quality 
 There is no fellow in the firmament." 
 
 IT was near the middle of the afternoon, and many persons 
 were leaving, when Mr. Brandon remarked to his daugh- 
 ters that he disliked breaking up their pleasant enjoyment, 
 but as they had several miles to go, it was time to leave. 
 
 Mr. Gray remarked that as it was nearer to his house, 
 they had better stay a while longer, and then spend the 
 night with him ; but the girls gave their reasons for 
 refusing, and thanked him. Miss Gray had joined her 
 father in the invitation, but, understanding the nature of 
 such things, only insisted on their coming over to church 
 on next Sunday, and to come prepared to spend some time 
 with her. These invitations were reciprocal, but not de- 
 finitely appointed, by either. 
 
 Old Mr. Gray gave a particular invitation to Henry 
 Brandon to visit him at any time, as the young people 
 would see to it that his time should be spent agreeably. 
 
 Carriages and vehicles of all kinds, and horses, were 
 moving around as in preparation for going, and our com- 
 pany of gay young people had already begun to take leave 
 of each other, when Henry Brandon, lingering a little in 
 the rear, said to Miss Gray, in his original vein of humor, 
 that if there was no likelihood of her coming over to the 
 church, he thought it quite probable that he would go over 
 to her meeting-house. 
 
BLOOM AND B K I E R . 137 
 
 In his own strain, she replied that since first making her 
 negative assertion, she had felt some faltering of resolution, 
 and by the time he came to " Walnut Hill," she would give 
 him a more definite answer. 
 
 "In the mean while," she added coquettishly, "I will 
 refer you, by way of hope in your evangelizing effort, to 
 the answer of Ruth to Naomi." 
 
 At this, they shook hands very cordially, and separated 
 to meet no more for many years. 
 
 Mr. Brandon, after getting his company well on the way 
 home, came along in the rear, that day riding in his sulky; 
 but finding them disposed to loiter, drove on to the front, 
 and before very long had left them entirely. 
 
 Thomas Hunter, being compelled to go to his own home 
 that evening, had made the suggestion to the gentlemen of 
 the party to spend the night ^vith him, at his " Bachelor's 
 Hall," just by way, as he said, of giving them an idea of 
 how "housekeeping" should be done. The proposition 
 was accepted, and when they reached the road that turned 
 off to his plantation, he informed the young ladies of this 
 intention, and also that they would accompany them no 
 farther. The young gentlemen now strung along among 
 the carriages, and, as Henry Brandon said, had "quite a 
 parting talk with their lady-loves." 
 
 Mr. Jerome and Dr. Wilton were at the carriage of Misa 
 Hunter, in conversation with Miss Julia and with jNIiss 
 Morton. 
 
 Thomas Hunter was at the carriage of Violet Brandon, 
 talking in an undertone to her about their own private 
 affairs — while Henry Brandon and Mr. Campbell were 
 at the carriage of Laura and Lucy, each of the girls with 
 their heads a little out of the carriage on their resijective 
 sides, talking to their separate admirers, and so intent, as 
 not to pay the least attention to the other. 
 
 In reply to some excuse which Henry Brandon had just 
 1-2 * 
 
138 BLOOM AND BRIER. 
 
 made to Laura; for something he had said to Miss Gray, 
 Laura said to him : 
 
 " Ah ! cousin, I shall find it difficult to forgive you. You 
 openly asserted that you had ahvays been an admirer of 
 mine, but had become divided in your feelings." 
 
 " Pshaw, Laura ! you know I had to say something 
 pleasant to the daughter, after her very respectable old 
 father had put himself to the trouble of talking to me in 
 that /a??ii7]/-like sort of way, and I thought a little love- 
 making just the thing to meet the case ; did n't you see how 
 well it was received? " 
 
 "Oh, yes, I saw it all, and don't think it was all fun on 
 either side — rather think you will be going over to 'Meth- 
 odist meetin',' as you call it, before very long. Will you 
 allow me to go with you ? " 
 
 "Yes, certainly I will; but Laura, you don't know the 
 masculine gender very thoroughly, if you don't know that 
 I could not help loving as handsome a girl as she is, some. 
 And then that dash of wit and deviltry, when out of sight 
 of the old man Methodist, should be encouraged. I think 
 we might proselyte her : what think you of that ? " 
 
 " Yes, that would all be very well, if you had not ex- 
 pressed such a willingness to he proselyted yourself." 
 
 "Ah! these were mere idle words. I could very well 
 afford to fall a little in love with so pretty a heretic, but 
 you know I could never go back to her idolatry. But my 
 dear Laura, I have a charge to bring against you too, which 
 is, that unasked, yea, even begged by the young lady her- 
 self not to do so, you really did, with evident bad temper, 
 give me away — remember that, fair lady ! " 
 
 " Ah ! two bites at a cherry is an obsolete idea, nor do I 
 know how to divide a hair 'twixt south and southwest 
 side." 
 
 "Truly, Laura, your literary references are absolutely 
 odious — desist, I pray you, unless you wish to see me 
 
BLOOM AND BRIER. 139 
 
 dwindle to the size of passing through the eye of a needle 
 with safety — just perish away under their influence." 
 
 *' They suit the subject most opportunely," said she, lau'^-li- 
 ing, "and I have more of just such at my tongue's end, 
 when occasion shall occur again for their use." 
 
 " Then you will forget them, for by all the gods of Olym- 
 pus I declare unto you, that there shall never be the same 
 fault found with me again, in jest or otherwise." 
 " Very well, we shall see." 
 
 "Why, Laura, after that penitent speech, I expected 
 you to receive me, with open arms, into your favor again, 
 or as the Baptists say, into full fellowship ; but your reluct- 
 ance rather shows that you have fairly turned the tables 
 on Othello." 
 
 "Who — what?" 
 " Nobody — nothing." 
 
 " I am glad you made that retraction to your last speech." 
 "So am I, since I see the personal danger I was about to 
 incur." 
 
 While this conversation was going on, Laura had rested 
 her hand on the window-sill of the carriage, and Henry 
 Brandon taking it up, just as he finished his last remark, 
 said : " A truce to that ; now tell me, my lady, who gave 
 thee this ring? " 
 
 "I will, most noble sir; it was the gift in girlhood's 
 merry years of a generous, rattling, but 1 fear me, now, a 
 truant boy." 
 
 " Hast thou never displaced it since that generous, rat- 
 tling boy did place it there ? " 
 " Never." 
 
 " Then it seemeth unto me that this generous, wandering' 
 boy did love thee, in thy young girlhood, and that the 
 merry girl did somewhat love that boy." 
 
 Blushing deeply for an answer, she replied : " Perhapa 
 thou didst know, fair sir, the little boy ? " 
 
140 BLOOM AND BRIER. 
 
 " Yes, I do remember a little lad who once did tell me 
 the little story of his heart. It is many years ago, and if 
 I now can tell the story as it was told to me, it was that he 
 did deeply love his cousin, and something tells me that if 
 the noble girl is true to the little maid — the man still loves 
 as loved the boy." Then raising her beautiful hand to his 
 lips, said: "Let that wanderer wander whither he will, his 
 heart untravelled still fondly turns to thee — "and.laugh- 
 ing a joyous, happy sort of laugh, said: "Now you under- 
 stand me, good-by." 
 
 Blushing and trembling, with her soft blue eyes swim- 
 ming in unbidden tears, she sweetly said : " Good-by." 
 
 In a few minutes they were all on their separate ways. 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 "Devotion wafts the mind above, 
 But heaven itself descends in love." 
 
 Bykox. 
 
 THEY had driven but a short distance after parting 
 with their young beaux, when Lucy, who had caught 
 a glimpse of the " good-by " scene between Laura and Henry 
 Brandon, said to her sister : 
 
 "Laura, what new extravagance was that of cousin 
 Henry's, as he bid you good-by ? " 
 
 " I scarcely know, Lucy : he says and does so many odd 
 things." 
 
 Lucy now discovered that her sister had been shedding 
 tears, and said: 
 
 "Why, Laura, I really believe you have been crying." 
 
 At this Laura began afresh a sort of mixed hysterical 
 laugh and cry, without making a reply. Lucy again laughed, 
 and asked what wais the matter, but her sister still remained 
 
BLOOM AXD BRIER. 141 
 
 silent ; and now, with her liand to her face, continued the 
 same hysteric sobbing. At length, Lucy still urging her to 
 tell the cause of her excitement, she said : " Lucy, I have 
 never belbre kept a secret from you, or from mother ; but 
 this I have never told to either, for my heart shrinks from 
 its exposure." 
 
 "Xow, that I know that you have something at your 
 heart that gives you trouble, I cannot bear you to keep it 
 from me : does it relate to cousin Henry ? " 
 
 " Yes, Lucy, it does." 
 
 "Have you become displeased with him in any way?" 
 
 "No, far from it — how could you think that?" 
 
 " I really think nothing Laura, as I know nothing, and 
 only asked the question because your tears were so unex- 
 pected." 
 
 "I have desired to tell you, Lucy, before this, somethino* 
 of my feelings; but my cheek would so burn with woman \s 
 delicacy, that my heart would fail ; but now I will tell you, 
 cost me what it will to do so. I must tell you, or my poor 
 heart will break — first, promise never to reveal it." 
 
 " I certainly promise you, sister, never to do so without 
 your leave." 
 
 Laura then, hesitatingly, began the first sad story of her 
 life, by asking Lucy if she remembered, when they were 
 children, that she would often attempt to tease her by call- 
 ing their cousin Henry her sweetheart, and with what 
 resentment she would tell her, that she did not care if he 
 was." 
 
 "Yes, very well," and at once catching at Laura's story, 
 said — "I believed so then, and I believe so now;" saying 
 this with a certain tone of voice, which at once secured not 
 only Laura's confidence, but gave her assurance of good 
 feeling and sympathy. 
 
 " Little girl as I was, I was really not conscious of it being 
 that feeling which I aftei^ard knew it to be — love — yes, 
 
142 BLOOM AND BRIER. 
 
 love, Lucy ; I have spoken it now, the first time in my life. 
 You will remember too, that he gave me this ring on the 
 evening before he left for college ; and at the time he gave 
 it, he asked me to remember him, which I promised to do. 
 This you did not know, as I did not tell you ; but you do 
 know that we corresponded somewhat irregularly all the 
 while during his absence. This correspondence was based 
 on that mutual obligation, and at our first meeting after his 
 return, though it assumed so ludicrous a form, I somehow 
 felt that I would be called on, either to fulfil the purpose 
 of the promise, or to forever give it up. This evening he 
 referred to both directly, and told me that his feelings to- 
 ward me now, were still as they then were. He said no more, 
 but—" 
 
 "What?" 
 
 Shrinking for a moment from the confession, she at length 
 said : 
 
 " But my heart is his, has always been — can never be 
 another's. There Lucy," she continued, "you have the 
 cherished secret of my life, from girlhood till now ; and the 
 beginning, too, of my life-trouble ; but the pleasure has been 
 mine, let the sorrow be too." 
 
 " But, Laura, he did not tell you that he loved you, did 
 he?" 
 
 " Only as I have told you, Lucy." 
 
 " Are you not afraid to let your feelings bear you along 
 so recklessly ? Cousin Henry is a noble young fellow — in 
 mind, in character, and in person ; but you must remember, 
 even when a boy, and while at college, he was known to be 
 wild and eccentric, and as we all see, is quite so disposed 
 even yet ; and may not settle himself, but wander oflT, and 
 forget you." 
 
 " Yes, Lucy, I am aware of all you say, yet am not 
 afraid ; nor can I, if I would, break the chain which has 
 bound my whole life. I have no fear of his truth, his honor, 
 
BLOOM AND BRIER. 143 
 
 or his eccentricities : nature never lavishes such gifts ay his 
 on unworthy objects, and as seldom, I fancy, bestows them 
 without some commensurate design. With his mind and 
 heart, there is nothing human to fear ; and he will be a 
 man of mark when the proper time arrives — and come it 
 will — when the cautious, plodding, censorious characters, 
 who in their very littleness may condemn him, shall have 
 faded from mortal memorj^" Seeming to acquire confidence 
 from her own words, she raised her head and said — " That 
 which the world calls eccentricity in men of mind, and of 
 known probity of heart, is but little else than a species of 
 the mind's own recreation, before the appointed time and 
 occasion have come for its normal action. You see I fear 
 nothing so far as he is concerned ; but what I do fear, is the 
 very probable course of our mother. Whether it is imagina- 
 tion or not, I have always thought she suspected some sort 
 of feeling between Henry Brandon and myself; and, as you 
 have often heard her, has ever expressed herself in very 
 strong terms against the marriage of cousins. Of late she 
 has been more pointed than ever — so much so, that he as 
 well as myself must know her feelings." 
 
 " But Laura," said Lucy, attempting to laugh, " suppose 
 he should say nothing more to you about this ? " 
 
 *• Oh ! my sister, do not torture me, do not speak thus. I 
 am not afraid, I know him better than you all ; my heart 
 it is that guides me ; " then passionately clasping her 
 hands, she continued, " my soul — the very essence of my 
 being, leads me to trust him, and I do ; there is no power 
 within myself, or in any other, which can shake this con- 
 fidence — 'tis fate ! 'tis my life, or 't is death, and all, per- 
 haps ! " 
 
 With these impassioned words she caught her sister round 
 the neck, and in tears of real grief gave her swelling heart 
 relief. 
 
 " Oh, Laura, Laura ! you must not give way to your feel- 
 
144 BLOOM AND BRIER. 
 
 ings in this manner ; there may be fewer difficulties than 
 you apprehend." 
 
 *' No, Lucy, the difficulties are greater even than I have 
 expressed. My heart could not ache as it does, unless its 
 very life was at stake ; and I tell you that Henry Brandon 
 is as near to me now as he will ever be, and yet the hope 
 is dearer to me than life itself." 
 
 "Come, sister, you grieve me by this wildness, this 
 frenzy ! " 
 
 " Yes, Lucy, I must, and I almost frighten myself." 
 
 At this, they both ceased talking ; but Laura continued 
 to rest her head upon her sister's shoulder, and to sob. This 
 violent expression of ' grief soon brought its own relief. 
 Then raising her head, and looking her sister timidly in the 
 face, she said — " Forgive me for this, Lucy." 
 
 " Certainly," said Lucy, smiling ; " but you must learn 
 to restrain your feelings more, and work the harder for 
 them." 
 
 The remainder of the road was passed over in silence. 
 They all reached Mr. Robert Brandon's in good time, and 
 separated with mutual congratulations for the pleasant time 
 they had enjoyed. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIL 
 
 " When I said I would die a bachelor, I did not think I should live 
 till I were married." 
 
 ON the return of Thomas Hunter from college, his father 
 ^ had placed him in possession of a very superb plan- 
 tation which had already been assigned to him, with an 
 ample number of able negroes, and every facility for con- 
 ducting a large planting business with ease and success. 
 Few young planters had ever begun life with more flattering 
 
BLOOM AND BRIER. 145 
 
 assurances of success, pleiisantncss, and usefulness. With 
 aristocratic opinions tempered into good sense and feeling, 
 by the generous and chivalric instincts of the Southern 
 gentleman, his tastes, habits, and circumstances refuted 
 every charge which it afterwards became popular to make 
 in slanderous newspapers, pseudo romances, and tracts, 
 falsely pretending to morality and philanthropy, against 
 Southern planters, as a class. We no more pretend to say, 
 however, that every man who made cotton was of this 
 stamp, than we would assert every man in the North to 
 have been a Southern slanderer or abolitionist. We write 
 of Southern society and not of individuals, selecting only 
 such of the latter as represented the former. 
 
 As Hunter rode up to his gate, he was met by his house 
 servants, who had been anxious in regard to his continued 
 absence, and a man-servant with a retinue of stable-boys 
 received " Sara Brandon," and the horses. The house was 
 flung open immediately, and presented a most inviting 
 appearance of pleasantness and comfort. The house itself 
 was of the cottage order, with verandas extending on all 
 sides, with transverse passages running through, and inter- 
 secting at the centre of the building, thus arranged for the 
 benefit of shade and breeze durino- the lono; Southern sum- 
 mer. It was elegantly furnished, but furnished with espe- 
 cial reference to comfort and abandon. Hammocks, rock- 
 ing-chairs, and lounges were scattered through all the rooms. 
 
 Fresh water, a bottle of good wine, and a box of cigars 
 were soon placed on the side-board for general use. When 
 Hunter saw his young friends distributed according to their 
 own inclinations, and at perfect ease, he asked to be excused 
 for a short while, as he wished to see his "driver" before 
 night, and asked Henry Brandon to act as major domOj 
 during his absence." 
 
 " Yes, go along, Tom, I '11 see that matters are adminis- 
 tered secundum artem ; for instance, 1 will take charge of 
 13 
 
146 BLOOM AND BRIER. 
 
 the wine and cigars, while Mr. Jerome will see that the 
 water is not left all unhonored." 
 
 Hunter in leaving the house passed by the kitchen, and 
 seeing old " Aunt Jinny," his chief of cuisine ordnance, 
 told her to have one of her very best suppers, but not to 
 let it come in before nine o'clock. 
 
 "Yes, Mass Tom, lunderstans zactly what you wants — 
 you wants a supper for young gentlemen — need'n' trouble 
 youself 'bout it no mo'." It was not long before the old 
 woman could be seen stirring round most industriously, 
 gathering up a suitable corps of assistants, and ordering 
 them up to proper quarters, with an authority which showed 
 the importance with which she invested the occasion, and 
 a determination to meet it as became an official of her 
 reputation. 
 
 This was the last of Hunter's attention in that direction. 
 In passing about, the old woman at one time parsed in full 
 view of Henry Brandon, who remarked : 
 
 " Gentlemen, as Hunter is not here, I will discuss his 
 cook. * Old Aunt Jinny' is famous among us all, as one 
 of the best cooks on the globe. If you get a full view of 
 her face, you could almost fancy yourselves eating broiled 
 chicken, broiled ham, mutton chops, hot rolls, and wafers ; 
 and drinking as fine a cup of tea or coffee as was ever 
 drawn in Pekin, or sipped by the Sultan." 
 
 "Stop, Mr. Brandon," said Dr. Wilton, "or you will 
 excite both my hunger and thirst." 
 
 " Very well, we will let supper elaborate the remainder 
 of her virtues." 
 
 At nine o'clock, old Aunt Jinny's virtues spoke for them- 
 selves, in such a supper as only a Southern planter can set, 
 and only an old slave cook could prepare. The whole 
 negro race have a genius for the cook-pot. But alas! for 
 Northern philanthropy, and Northern statesmanship ! To- 
 gether they have destroyed the best cooks of the worlds 
 
BLOOM AND B K 1 E II . 147 
 
 and the most benevolent system of cookino:, on the earth ; 
 and what is more, destroyed the kindly ties between the negro 
 and the only true friend the negro race has ever had — the 
 Southern white man. And now, in September, 1869, we in- 
 quire in all earnestness, what is to be the result? Leaving 
 out all considerations of interest, we ask with the liveliest 
 apprehension what good effect on the course of society the 
 extension to him of suffrage can possibly produce ? While 
 all well-ordered governments strive to restrain suffrage to a 
 proper representation of the material interests of society, 
 ours has sought out the most ignorant and impecunious class 
 upon which to confer that dangerous privilege. Suffrage is 
 no ?2a^wra/ right — it is a privilege growing out of property, 
 and property grows out of civilization. All civil wars very 
 soon result in its extension — it is an effort of each leader to 
 secure the masses ; and there is no surer indication of a 
 people being in the high road of revolution, than to see them 
 extending this power to the lower classes, who can possibly 
 have no rights of the sort ; and none have ever secured 
 peace, until it was wrenched back from them in some 
 manner. 
 
 This fact is universal history, and at this age of en- 
 lightenment should have prevented a recourse to it. In 
 our own especial case, the man upon w^hom it has been 
 conferred belongs directly to a heathen race. This fact, to- 
 gether with his former condition of slave, and his universal 
 ignorance with his natural imbecility, even without the 
 power of suffrage, is calculated to engender an alienation 
 between him and the white man ; but with it, to make him 
 an aggressor upon the^ociety which is superior to him, and 
 upon the property of which he has none, and cannot have. 
 He knows not how else to use this dangerous weapon : 
 ignorance, idleness, and poverty drive him into this posi- 
 tion. Instead of being told the real cause of his freedom, 
 whether a good one or not, and that it was a penalty to the 
 
148 BLOOM AND BRIER. 
 
 white master for some great violation of law, he is told 
 that it was a special interposition of Providence in his be- 
 half, through the intercession of the North. This at once 
 gives him a most bloated idea of his importance, and he 
 immediately falls into the most superstitious worship on 
 account of it. He next looks upon himself as one of the 
 children of Israel, as he understands it, and upon the whole 
 South as his Canaan, of which he wants immediate posses- 
 sion ; and through theft and suffrage strives to get it. He is 
 led to believe by his present friends that his past slavery 
 has been a great wrong ; never once seeing that if he is as 
 improved as he thinks himself, that it is altogether owing 
 to the only man whom he is taught to hate, and to injure if 
 possible. He is never told that but few years since, as it 
 were, he was brought to our homes, through all the horrors 
 of the "middle passage," by the humanitarians of Old 
 and of New England, and wreaked upon us in his bestial 
 heathenism; and that his race is still besotted in the lowest 
 form of paganism and cannibalism in its own laud. No, 
 these facts are most tenderly kept from him, while he i^ 
 being taught to believe his superiority to us, and urged to 
 every species of aggression. The upper classes of the North 
 may plead — or wish to — ignorance of these wretched facts, 
 but they cannot. There are paid hirelings — paid by the 
 Government, in the shape of preachers, teachers. Congress- 
 men, etc. — of both sexes, from their midst, who associate 
 with negroes of the lowest character, assemble with them 
 at their Congo celebrations, join with them in their miser- 
 able worship, on terms of perfect equality, and urge them 
 on. What, we ask, is to be the result of this on American 
 society ? Thousands upon tens of thousands of men and 
 women, who were once orderly, well-behaved, and engaged 
 in the useful pursuits of life, are now wandering thieves, 
 keepers of dirty shops, peddlers of stolen goods, hucksters 
 of filthy fruit, street- walkers, idlers, and vagabonds ; while 
 
BLOOM AND BHIEU. 149 
 
 their children are growing up around us in idleness, vaga- 
 bondism, and lewdness. And yet these are the chosen suf- 
 fragans of a ^aWy which aspires to the control of American 
 nationality. Men and women of the North, can you blame 
 the South for despising you ? You have intelligence, and 
 know better. Why do you persist ? " Quousque tandem 
 abutere nostra paticntia." 
 
 Property is the basis of all civilization, even as it is the 
 creature of civilization. It is, therefore, the legitimate 
 object of legislation ; and there should be no legislation 
 except by a legislator who bases his right to that position 
 upon his relation to property: all other is spurious — and 
 by that much will, must, and does exert a harmful, dan- 
 gerous influence. 
 
 There is a natural antagonism between property and 
 labor — it is the very law of labor and property; but still 
 there is that natural relation between them which compels 
 property to sustain labor well up to a working point. Any 
 effort, therefore, whatever, to interfere or to set up new 
 theories against this law, but by that much disturbs soci- 
 ety. This law, blind, strong, muscular labor does not see, 
 but, consulting its own instincts of force, seeks to aggress, 
 and, whenever and by whatever accident it secures polit- 
 ical power, never fails to use it in that direction. Give 
 universal labor universal suffrage, and it at once organizes 
 a universal attack on property and position. The largest 
 liberty and the greatest ease is the first law of all animal 
 life; but under the laws of civilization it cannot be 
 granted, and we but give way to a miserable, maudlin 
 sentimentality when we do so. 
 
 When the masses acquire suffrage, there is but one power 
 that can recover it from them, and that is the one-man 
 POWER. Let us wait. 
 
 We have already had to ask pardon for so many digres- 
 sions, that it would seem a mocking to do so again ; we 
 13* 
 
150 BLOOM AND BRIER. 
 
 shall therefore return to our story, without apology, by 
 telling the reader that our young gentlemen continued to 
 enjoy themselves as we have seen they had begun. 
 
 At the appointed hour, the supper was announced, which 
 they passed at least an hour in the enjoyment of. After 
 this, cigars were lit, and each one fixed himself for his own 
 personal ease. 
 
 " Tom," said Henry Brandon, while looking around the 
 brilliantly lighted room (it was Hunter's library) from 
 the lounge upon which he was reclining, and puffing at 
 intervals his long-drawn Havana, " you really live in as 
 great comfort and elegance as we did at college ; indeed I 
 believe you have imitated the style" — meaning this as a 
 burlesque allusion to college-life — and, without waiting 
 for a reply, said : " Oh, Tom, I have always forgotten to 
 tell you that I am your banker for the sum of twenty-five 
 dollars — the half of the whole amount for which I sold 
 our four-years' furniture. What do you think of the sale ? " 
 " Oh, excellent ! " 
 
 "There came a couple of very nice chaps, to be ex- 
 amined at commencement, for the purpose of getting 
 choice rooms, I suppose, and said that they had been 
 informed that I had a very good set of furniture for sale, 
 as I was going out. I told them yes ; and, showing them 
 every article, proposed to take fifty dollars for it, rather 
 than peddle it off", which old Grimes had already proposed 
 to do for me. They took me up at a word, and rather 
 apologized for buying second-hand furniture by modestly 
 saying that they 'were not very flush of means, as the 
 apple and onion crops had both failed the year before ; but 
 as ours seemed to be the furniture of gentlemen, they did 
 not regard it much.' I was so well pleased with the boys, 
 I had a damned — excuse me. Parson — good notion to 
 give it to them, and would, but feared it might hurt their 
 feelings; while I knew fifty dollars would neither hurt 
 
BLOOM AND BRIER. 151 
 
 their feelings nor their purses. Shall I pay it to you now? 
 I shall never think of it again." 
 
 " No, never mind ; just add it to what you have owed 
 me all along for four years. You must have improved in 
 your financial memory. You owe me about five hundred 
 beside, I think." 
 
 " The devil I do ! Then what did I do with mine? " 
 " Spent it, loaned it, and gave it away together." 
 " Ah ! * scandalum magnatum ' — from first to last, Tom. 
 But excuse us, gentlemen, for intruding our college busi- 
 ness upon you." 
 
 " Oh, we have been quite amused," said Mr. Jerome, 
 "and would like to have you proceed with your reminis- 
 cences — it reminds me of my own glad old days." 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 "I '11 talk a word with this same learned Theban." 
 
 MR. CAMPBELL," asked Henry Brandon, "were you 
 educated at a Southern college ? " 
 
 " Yes ; at William and Mary, first, and afterward at the 
 University." 
 
 " Did you attend the Law School at the latter ? " 
 
 ** Yes ; I graduated there." 
 
 " Ah ! then — according to Uncle Robert Brandon — I 
 can account for the stringent State sovereignty doctrine I 
 heard you express this evening. He says that all South- 
 ern schools inculcate that, while the Northern schools 
 inculcate the Federal doctrine." 
 
 " I can't say that that is my reason for entertaining it ; 
 but State sovereignty is certainly taught there. And with 
 
152 BLOOM AND BRIER. 
 
 all deference to Mr. Brandon, 1 can't see how he can avoid 
 believing in it, if he acknowledges this to be a confederate 
 republic." 
 
 " Well, I don't think he goes very far with that doc- 
 trine. I have not studied such questions with any great 
 attention, but confess my instincts do not go very far in 
 that direction either." 
 
 Campbell replied that he had been educated in its belief, 
 and very sincerely entertained it. 
 
 Campbell belonged to that style of young men who 
 observe all the polite forms of social intercourse, leaving 
 but little to speculation, doubt, or accident, but act in 
 accordance with all established prescriptions. He was 
 generally grave and dignified in his deportment, and very 
 respectful in his manners — especially to those from whom 
 he expected advancement. Though finely educated, he 
 was not brilliant, and ventured but little out on the un- 
 reckoned seas of original thought. In political matters, 
 therefore, he adopted the opinions which had already been 
 raised up to a system under the lead of men whom he had 
 already chosen to follow, and who had already been suc- 
 ceasful. The Democratic ]3arty furnished these, as he 
 thought, and he had thoroughly identified himself with it 
 — in this, following the lead of most of the second-class 
 intellect of that day. 
 
 Henry Brandon, on the other hand — as may be judged 
 from the shadowy indications of character which he had 
 only, till now, thrown out — was, as near as it was possible 
 to be, the opposite of this — considering that he strictly 
 observed the status of the gentleman in all his antitheses. 
 He saw through and ridiculed the Korhassan veil which 
 ignorant but cunning old prigs throw around the altars of 
 public aflTairs, and looked at them just as they were, and 
 spoke as he thought, with nothing more than common 
 regard for that almost fiction of society, yclept "public 
 
BLOOM AND BRIER. 153 
 
 opinion." In short, he was just such a young man as seldom 
 rises, let his mind be what it will ; attracting, as they do, 
 the combined attack of all inferior grades, and too often 
 falling before their united charge. 
 
 For many long years the Democratic party, almost with- 
 out interruption, maintained control of the Government, 
 and had at length become strong enough to shut out all 
 the first-class talent of the country ; and the Government 
 finally fell between the manipulations of Jacobinical, fanat- 
 ical charlatans on the one side, and a class of second and 
 third rate politicians on the other. 
 
 The histories of Mr. Clay and Mr. AVebster are illustra- 
 tions of this assertion. 
 
 ''Then you are in favor of a consolidated government?" 
 said Campbell, in reply to the remarks of Brandon. 
 
 " No, not one entirely so ; but even such an one is pref- 
 erable to this slack-twisted affair, with an everlasting tend- 
 ency to revolution, civil wars, and all manner of State 
 deviltries." 
 
 " In what manner would you propose to avoid such ? " 
 
 "Well, I propose to avoid nothing; but if I had the 
 power, I would very materially lengthen the Executive term, 
 from four years to twenty, or life ; limit State legislation to 
 matters strictly local, and, first and last of all, I should 
 confine suffrage to native citizens, with a good property 
 qualification. Those are my present ideas." 
 
 Campbell replied that he had been taught to believe the 
 people should all have suflTrage, and that they were capable 
 of self-government. 
 
 " The people ! I am very much afraid of the people. 
 The American people are no better than other people; 
 and the people, whenever they get hold, never let go until 
 everything goes to the devil. It has ever been so, and I 
 expect will ever be." After some further running conver- 
 sation of this sort, Brandon said : " But come, Mr. Camp- 
 
154 BLOOM AND BRIER. 
 
 bell, I am no politician, and perhaps am in error about 
 these matters — let us listen to these gentlemen, who appear 
 to have up a pleasanter subject." 
 
 At this moment, Mr. Jerome said to Hunter that he 
 might urge his suit on Miss Morton ; but whenever he 
 mentioned the subject — rather alluded to it — she always 
 raised the Church subject, and rather accused him of heresy, 
 which looked a little like a disinclination to listen to his 
 lackadaisicals, and forced him to maintain the pastor at 
 the expense of the sighing lover. 
 
 " Ah ! she is just trying your earnestness," said Hunter, 
 laughing. " I know all about Sally's church feeling ; and 
 she cares about as much for the Baptists as I do for 
 Mohammedanism. She joined the Church from some old 
 family association, just after her father's death. But Bap- 
 tist or not, she would make an elegant Church woman. 
 There is scarcely such another girl to be found. I rather 
 promised to be her chevalier, when we were young folks ; 
 but when I came back from college, a few months ago, she 
 laughed at the idea. But then you had been visiting her, 
 Parson, and I ahvays thought you had something to do 
 with that laugh." 
 
 " Oh, no ! Let me assure you that I have never been 
 encouraged to get in any one's way. It was only your 
 native modesty. She is certainly a very superior girl, and 
 I admire her greatly." 
 
 " Yes, I will vouch for the Parson's admiration," said 
 Dr. Wilton. "Miss Morton is his constant theme. We 
 can seldom converse on any subject, however foreign, 
 longer than twenty minutes, before he makes a quotation 
 from Miss Morton. I tell him it is fast getting to be a 
 Hamlet case." 
 
 " Ah ! the matter is indeed getting to be a melancholy 
 one. Quotations are a sure indication that the virus has 
 taken," said Hunter. 
 
B L O O M A X D B R I E R . 155 
 
 At this moment, Henry Brandon rose to get a fre^h 
 cigar, when he remarked to Hunter that he had not yet 
 played his Goldsmith role, and he was getting anxious to 
 have it over with. 
 
 Hunter comprehended the allusion, and replied : " Yes, 
 you always badger me into playing for you, by scandal- 
 izing me." 
 
 Henry Brandon explained to the company that Hunter's 
 friends used to say that fluting would some day be his ^ro- 
 Jession ; " but," added he, " I believe Judge Hunter has 
 provided against this extremity, for a few days, at least, 
 judging from the present surroundings. But, never mind, 
 play for us, Hunter, and let us go to bed under the influ- 
 ence of some of your sweetest old airs." 
 
 Hunter gratified him by doing as requested, in his very 
 best style, when the proposition was made to retire. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 " But earthly hope, how bright soe'er, 
 Still fluctuates o'er this changing scene. 
 As false and fleeting as 't is fair." 
 
 AFTER their friends had left, on the evening of their 
 return from the spring, Laura and Lucy went to 
 their own chamber to rearrange their dresses ; and while 
 there, Laura said : 
 
 " Lucy, sister, I fear you will think I transcended the 
 bounds of — I may say — delicacy, in giving way to my 
 feelings as I did this evening ; and perhaps I did ; but I 
 could not restrain them. Something came over me, and I 
 had to let you know my feelings, my secret, and my trouble. 
 That is all the explanation I can give." 
 
 "Do you regret having done so, Laura?" 
 
156 'bloom AND BE lER. 
 
 " No, I do not ; though it may seem premature to you." 
 
 *'It does not appear as premature as it would otherwise 
 have done, had not Cousin Henry made the same com- 
 mittal to me last night." 
 
 " Oh, why did you not tell me, Lucy ? " 
 
 "I did intend doing so at the earliest possible oppor- 
 tunity." 
 
 " What did he say to you ? " 
 
 " Only that he could not get over his boy-feeling for 
 you, and that he intended to tell you, not caring whom he 
 offended. He did it in his usual light sort of way, and I 
 would not encourage it until I knew how" you felt ; but 
 asked him if I might tell you. I know, however, that you 
 always had some sort of preference for him, even from a 
 boy, and of late I have been satisfied that your feelings 
 were really involved." 
 
 "Yes, Lucy, they are — my very life is involved; and 
 yet I would have sacrificed it before I would have ex- 
 pressed it in words, had it not been for what he said to 
 me this evening. And yet I knew he loved me." 
 
 Their maid now announced that tea w^as waiting, and 
 the two girls tripped to the supper-room with as much 
 apparent lightness as though nothing unusual had taken 
 place. Mrs. Brandon entered into the conversation, that 
 immediately began, by asking her daughters how they were 
 pleased with the speaking, saying, " You know, girls, I am 
 compelled to feel some interest, as Colonel Haywood is one 
 of the most accomplished orators in the South." 
 
 " Yes, we felt all the apprehension that you did ; but w^e 
 very soon felt every confidence, after father began ; and by 
 the time he had concluded, I think we felt very proud." 
 ' " I am obliged to you, my daughter," said Mr. Brandon, 
 laughing very pleasantly. "How did you think I sus- 
 tained myself, Laura ? " 
 
 "Most admirably. You know I am not a great poll- 
 
BLOOM AND BRIER. 157 
 
 tician, and could not judge of your arguments ; but in 
 chaste eloquence I thought you excelled Colonel Haywood, 
 and so Miss Gray expressed herself." 
 
 "But do you think your opinions impartial?" 
 
 "I do," said Laura; "and yet I think Colonel Haywood 
 deserves his reputation. He is confident, bold, impassioned, 
 and quite eloquent at times, I thought." 
 
 " Oh, that is quite a compliment to us both ; and I am 
 obliged, too, to your beautiful new friend. Miss Gray. But 
 what did Mr. Campbell say, Lucy? You know he is a 
 Democrat?" 
 
 " He came up and congratulated me, most handsomely, 
 on your effort, and I think was quite proud to be seen with 
 me afterward," said she, laughing. 
 
 "Well, how did Henry Brandon speak of the affair? 
 I suppose I must ask you that, Laura." 
 
 " All, he is such a Whig, and such an admirer of yours 
 any way, that he was willing to make his affidavy, as he 
 called it, that every word you spoke was Promethean.'' 
 
 " Really, I must like the wild, rattling lad even better 
 than ever." 
 
 At this remark from her father, coupled with his refer- 
 ence to her for the answer, a ray of hope and gladness 
 lighted up the innocent and beautiful face of Laura ; and 
 in a few minutes she ventured to ask him when her cousin 
 Henry intended leaving the country for his law studies. 
 
 " I cannot say ; but as soon, I suppose, as he gets over 
 his home-romp with you girls. I had almost thought to 
 ask you that, my daughter, as you and he appear quite 
 confidential." 
 
 Laura's face reddened at this, but with an effort at calm- 
 ness she replied that she thought he had made a very fair 
 division of his time and confidence between all his friends. 
 
 " Up to last night, I believe he had ; but, since then, I 
 think you have had decided advantage of us all." 
 14 
 
158 BLOOM AND BRIER. 
 
 "Are you not laboring under a misapprehension, sir?" 
 
 "No, I think not. Time passes without note between 
 young people so well pleased as you have appeared to be 
 to-day." 
 
 " Pleased ! Yes, you yourself appear pleased with the 
 company of the * rattling young lad.' Any one would be 
 who had any relish for wit, humor, fancy, and fine sense ; 
 but then I did not intend to engross his time. I did not 
 appear desirous of doing so, did I, father ? " 
 
 " No, no ; at least not more than he did of yours. But 
 then there was clearly a very high zest on both sides, and 
 you managed to be together nearly all the while at Mr. 
 Gray's carriage." 
 
 " Oh, father, you should not say that, as it was mere 
 accident that placed him near Miss Gray and myself; and 
 you could not have expected me to be rude enough to leave 
 them ; and if you noticed us, you certainly saw that it was 
 to her that he directed his attentions. By the way, how- 
 did you like her appearance?" displaying some nervous- 
 ness at the question she asked. 
 
 " I thought she was a girl of fine style, and very fine 
 face. Did she seem pleased with Henry ? " 
 
 " Very decidedly ; and I thought old Mr. Gray quite as 
 much so." 
 
 "It would be an excellent family for Henry to get into. 
 The old man has a way of making people fear him ; and 
 that is all that Henry requires to make him a first-class 
 man. I think I must encourage the idea." 
 
 Laura had watched the face of her father, through all 
 this jesting sort of conversation, and had begun to think 
 that he comprehended her feelings, and was disposed to 
 favor them — as it was only in him she looked for a friend; 
 — but the last remark led her to fear that he was entirely 
 ignorant ; and the pleasure that had suffused itself over 
 her happy face, now instantly faded away, and she listlessly 
 replied : 
 
HLOOM AND BRIKR. 159 
 
 " Yes, I made Miss Gray a present of him, in jest." 
 
 Lucy, seeing the change, and r(\>=:olving to sustain her, 
 said, quickly, " But I thought I overheard him object to 
 your doing so." 
 
 " Yes, he jestingly said that he wished me to retain an 
 interest in him." 
 
 At this remark, Mrs. Brandon, who had not spoken for 
 some time, nor had seemed so well pleased, asked why he 
 had wished her to retain an interest in him. " Had you 
 any in him, Laura? " 
 
 "None, more than of cousin, mother," she softly replied 
 to the rather sharp question. 
 
 "I should not suppose that your doin^that, then, would 
 have deprived him of such an interest." 
 
 Laura saw the direction of her mother's words, and very 
 prudently made no further answer. She knew that, what- 
 ever there was of antagonism in her present position to her 
 mother's wishes, it had not been wantonly entered into, but 
 was the growth of years and circumstances — a flow of feel- 
 ing that had come unbidden as the wind, and swept the 
 strings of her maiden heart even from its girlhood-time. 
 Mrs. Brandon was an unexceptional woman in all those 
 kind, generous, and self-sacrificing qualities that made her 
 the best of mothers ; and she loved her daughters as her 
 life. Her relations too with Henry's mother had ever been 
 of the most pleasant and confidential nature. No cloud, 
 from first to last, had ever passed over their intercourse to 
 darken its peacefulness. Henry himself, from earliest 
 boyhood, had been as one of her own children. She had 
 known him as a wild, bold, generous, rambling, uncontrol- 
 lable sort of a boy ; yet she loved him, as in all this she 
 knew there was no taint — that these qualities belonged 
 more to his mind than his heart, more to his genius than 
 his disposition, and more to his temperament than to his 
 character. She knew that with all this there was no 
 
160 BLOOM AND BRIER. 
 
 aggressiveness, such as too often accompanies these char- 
 acteristics. His daring and recklessness was that of inno- 
 cence, intending no wrong, and fearing no danger. Know- 
 ing these things, she had loved him — could but love him ; 
 yet now, she feared him, as a husband for her daughter ; 
 but above all, her prejudice against the intermarriage of 
 relations could not be overcome. It proved to be ingrained 
 with her very life. 
 
 This last Laura had found out, and it was the source 
 of her greatest anxiety. Without having intended it, she 
 found herself running, counter to one of the strongest sen- 
 timents of her mother, and saw that she must either meet 
 it, or prepare to sacrifice herself. 
 
 Here was to be the great conflict of her life, and here 
 rose a cloud upon the early morning sky that was to drape 
 in darkness and sorrow, the bright sunlight, the summer- 
 joy, of one whose purity of soul and gentleness of heart, 
 were as flowers of love and truth flinging around frail 
 humanity the freshness of their fragrance and the softness 
 of their beauty. The conflict came. 
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 " For virtue's self may too much zeal be had ; 
 The worst of madmen is a Saint run mad," 
 
 HUNTER'S guests left next morning, after enjoying an 
 excellent breakfast, fresh and hot, from the depart- 
 ment -of old Aunt Jinny. Brandon asked Hunter to go 
 over home with him ; but the latter had to decline, as he 
 had already sent a wagon to the city, for the purpose of 
 bringing out fall supplies of clothing, etc., for his negroes, 
 and must meet it. 
 
BLOOM A ND HRI ER. IGl 
 
 Ah, ha! Now speak, ye tender friends of the "nation's 
 wards," and tell us who of ye, on this loth October, 1869, 
 have sent your wagon for supplies of clothing for these 
 poor creatures ! Answer, ye wrong-headed, fanatical phi- 
 lanthropists, who have spent your lives in seeking objects 
 of charity beyond your own bailiwicks, while numberless 
 thousands were suffering with poverty and disease, in 
 abodes of wretchedness, guilt, and shame, within your ow^n 
 limits ! Answer, ye tender-hearted female sentimentalists, 
 who, in your lecture and society rooms, have writhed and 
 shrieked in vicarious agonies for the wrongs of the South- 
 ern negro, thousands of miles away, while the daughters 
 and sons of your own wombs were rioting in assignation 
 and rolling in brothels on the thoroughfares of your own 
 great cities ! Answer, ye forked-tougued, libellous priest- 
 hood, from whose loins have too often issued the spawn 
 of depravity, bastardy and woe, and shame and poverty ! 
 Yes, answer ! Then come and see the ruin your lying has 
 wrought in this fair land of the South ! Bayonets stand 
 ready to protect your reply and your shame. Come, and 
 see, and answer ! Yes, and you too come, oh, immac- 
 ulate statesmen — there is no gallows now for the incen- 
 diary, the robber, or the murderer — and behold your 
 wisdom and your prophecy reflected from this Southern 
 mirror ! 
 
 The negro h free. Let him be free forever. We would 
 not have him back. The charm is broken. But why were 
 u'e slandered and reviled, to free him ? Tell us that. Was 
 it to work upon our feelings, or to get up a crusade against 
 U8 among your own people ? What is it that so pointed 
 to his freedom, that w^e should still be persecuted for his 
 slavery? Was it his color, his beauty, his morality, or his 
 intelligence? 
 
 Now, remember, ye tender-souled old women, ye pious 
 preachers, ye weeping congregations, ye lying tractarians, 
 14* 
 
162 BLOOM AND BRIER. 
 
 ye slandering romancists — and, ay, ye jolly fine statesmen 
 — that society, life, every form of human association calls 
 for labor and the laborer — that in these Southern States, by 
 a peculiar divinity, were the best provided, the least worked, 
 the most contented, and the most orderly laborers of the 
 world, and from these very facts had proceeded the 
 great advances which universal society had made within 
 the last century. Yes, learn that the structure of modern 
 civilization W3.S based upon African labor — slavery — and 
 with its fall must fall many parts of the noble old edifice, 
 though new ones may rise. Yes, now come and see the 
 beginning of your mighty work — see that same laborer 
 in his lawlessness, his aggressiveness, his debauchery, his 
 filth, his poverty, his already departure from the religious 
 ministrations of those who led him out of his total, besotted 
 darkness, to his late modest but practical excellence, and 
 view your evangelization ! Yes, we invite ye, in the name 
 of the slandered, the wronged, the down-trodden, and pau- 
 perized South, to come and view the beginning of your mil- 
 lennial work. Come and see the delicate mothers and 
 daughters filling the most menial and laborious places, 
 quietly trudging on, through poverty and weariness, to 
 death — and then ask us to love ye ! to love ye ! ! to love 
 ye ! ! ! Ha ! ha ! ha ! To love ye ! and to love the Union! ! 
 Ha ! gloat in your blood bonds, and your thieveries ! Your 
 days are numbered! ay, numbered I! 
 
 Yes, the slaves are freed, and may they ever remain so — 
 and so they will, unless some yet undiscovered country 
 should require their services ; and then Puritan enter- 
 prise and hypocritical casuistry would soon discover some 
 "middle passage "to transport them thither; but for the 
 present, the final overthrow of your own power, the wrongs 
 you have inflicted, and the hate you have engendered, is 
 all that you may claim of this great event : the rest be- 
 longs to destiny — to the future; and these, neither regard 
 
B I. O O M A N J) H R I E K . 1 63 
 
 him wlio precipitated, nor him that approved its decree. 
 AVe can only view the wrong and silently await the end. 
 In the meanwhile, let us hear no more of the ''Rebellion." 
 
 Henry Brandon was now on his way home, with no one 
 in his company save his boy, " Sam Brandon," who 
 accompanied his young master whenever he could get a 
 possible excuse to do so, and was as happy as it was ever 
 intended a negro should be. 
 
 After riding nearly a mile in silence, Henry suddenly 
 turned and asked him why he did not talk. 
 
 " You look so serious. Mass Henry, this morning, I jis 
 thought to let you had yo' own way for a while." 
 
 " Why do you say that I look serious, Sam? " 
 
 "I sees it in yo' eye. Mass Henry, and you don't sing nor 
 whistle none yo' old chunes, nor yo' don't ride fass." 
 
 Sara had stood near the carriage of Laura Brandon, the 
 evening before, and with the usual instinct of the negro in 
 such matters, had come to the conclusion that his young 
 master was about to get into a love scrape with his cousin, 
 and was now drawing on what he had seen. 
 
 " What do you suppose has made me serious, Sam?" 
 
 " Don't know, IMass Henry, 'ceptin' it war that kiss you 
 gin Miss Laura, sorter strikin' in on yer," he replied, with 
 a hearty chuckle. 
 
 " The devil you say, Sam ; did you see anything of that 
 kind, you dog ? " 
 
 " Yah ! ha ! Mass Henry, I sede it every bit ; but nobody 
 else did, for I looked all about." 
 
 " Ah, you are a great rascal, Sam ; what were you watch- 
 ing for ? " 
 
 " I wan't watchin' ov you, I was watchin' for you, ]\Iass 
 Henry." 
 
 " Ah ! that will do better ; but Sam, why have you never 
 got a wife — you are old enough ? " 
 
 " Yes, sah, and I is ben kinder engaged and sorter married 
 
164 BLOOM AND BRIER. 
 
 two or three times; but I always flewed the track, 'case I 
 knewed that you would want me soon as you come back, 
 and den a wife would jist be in my way, and a never-een- 
 din' trouble." 
 
 *' Well, do you think of getting one when I do ? " 
 
 " Oh ! yes, sah, I'll get a gal then in yernest." 
 
 " Have you seen any one yet that you would like me to 
 have?" 
 
 " AVell, yes, sah ; but I ain't exac'ly made up my mine 
 yet. De young lady at ol' Mr. Gray's carriage was a mity 
 fine-looking young lady. She 's his daughter, ain't she, Mass 
 Henry?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " I thought so. Well, she looked mity pleasin' at you, an 
 I was jist making up my mine 'bout de case when, de good 
 Lord ! I sede you kiss Miss Laura ; den I thought to myself, 
 dat is a case itself." 
 
 "What would you think of that, Sam — would she do?" 
 
 " Do ? I speck she would. Miss Laura is the fines' young 
 lady in dis neck ; but den you is cousins — what you gwine 
 do 'bout dat?" 
 
 " I don't know, I'll see about it ; why do you object to 
 cousins getting married ? " 
 
 "Oh ! no sah, I dus not, but I hear it whispered 'bout by 
 de house gals, dat dere has been some sort of tork 'bout it 
 over at Miss Laura's." 
 
 "You have, eh! well I don't know; but now while I 
 think of it, let me tell you that you must learn to talk 
 better. You 've gone backward, Sam, since you were a boy." 
 
 " Yes, sah, I knows I has, but who could help dat, 'sociatin' 
 fer four years with the ding -feel niggers; but I'll larn 
 again to speak proper 'fore long, ]\tass Hemy." 
 
 " You must notice how I talk, and try to talk as I do." 
 
 "Yes, sah, I is watchin' you." 
 
 The remainder of the road wa,s passed over in silence, 
 
BLOOM AND BRIER. 165 
 
 Henry Brandon in thinking over what Sam had said about 
 the " house girls " over at Mr. Brandon's, and Sam, over 
 wliat Henry had said to him about talking better. 
 
 When he reached home, he found his mother and Violet 
 looking for him, and rather expecting Hunter to be with 
 him. Henry explained the reasons why Hunter had not 
 come, and said to Violet that he had not brought his wel- 
 come with him, and that she appeared to be disappointed. 
 Violet replied that she could not have had hers yesterday, 
 or she supposed he would have come home with her last 
 night. 
 
 " Whom do you mean, my sharp little sister ? " 
 
 " Whom do you prefer, Laura or Miss Gray ? " 
 
 " Mother," said Plenry, " have sufficient authority to sup- 
 press such malignant insinuations." 
 
 " I don't know, my son, that Violet intends to be malig- 
 nant, but I would prefer her ceasing to use Laura's name 
 in that connection." 
 
 The latter part of this reply was a little chilling to Henry ; 
 but he at once resolved that it should not be discovered, 
 though really exposing it by his impatient answer, in saying 
 that he was happy to have the tender considerations of his 
 friends — but really believed that he was not yet a full sub- 
 ject for their sympathy, in this particular matter. 
 
 " I hope not, and only said what I did, my son, to guard 
 you against becoming such." 
 
 After some further conversation in regard to the incidents 
 of the day before, Violet asked him how he liked the Metho- 
 dist girl. 
 
 "Elegantly, she is a great female, I like her." 
 
 Subjects of a more sober, matter-of-fact character were 
 gradually brought up by Mrs. Brandon saying: 
 
 "Have you forgotten, Henry, that you will be twenty- 
 one years old in a few days?" 
 
 " No, no mother ; so important an event in the prospective 
 
166 BLOOM AND BRIER. 
 
 history of the world has not, could not escape my memory. 
 On the contrary, I have it constantly in my mind, and 
 reflect upon it with all the solemn gravity due to its possible 
 happening." 
 
 " I am not jesting with you, Henry, as — " 
 
 " IS'or I with you, mother," said he, interrupting her. 
 
 " As there are matters in connection with it, of some im- 
 portance to others as well as yourself." 
 
 Henry, still following the bent of his humor, replied : 
 
 " You almost alarm me, mother ; is it so unparalleled an 
 event, that a young gentleman of twenty years old, and 
 eleven months, and twenty days, should reach the next 
 anniversary, that himself and all the world beside should 
 grow serious at the prospect?" 
 
 " No, it is not, nor do I intend to alarm you," said his 
 mother, smiling; "but truly there are some matters for 
 serious consideration in connection with it, which will have 
 to be provided for." 
 
 " Ah ! very good ; proceed, mother, I am all attention." 
 
 "Brother," said Violet, a little impatient at his con- 
 tinued levity ; if there was not the best evidence that you 
 are nearly twenty -one, I should think you only sixteen. 
 Will you never grow serious ? " 
 
 " Not one hour sooner than I shall be compelled to, as I 
 can reach perfection in that direction, when I have ex- 
 hausted myself in all others; indeed, seriousness only 
 follows exhaustion or age, unless in born fools — they come 
 serious ; but, Violet, why do you wish me to grow melan- 
 choly — will it do you any good to see me miserable?" 
 
 At this she rose to leave the room, saying, with a laugh, 
 " I said serious, brother, not melancholy or miserable." 
 
 When Violet left, Henry turned to his mother, saying, 
 " Forgive me mother for my levity. I am aware of the 
 matters you alluded to, and have been thinking very 
 soberly over them all the morning." 
 
BLOOM AND BRIER. 167 
 
 "I supposed you had of course; but as they related to 
 Violet's marriage, I wished to speak of them before her. I 
 suspect she left for that reason." 
 
 They now conversed of family matters for some time, 
 when Henry remarked that he had talked over the whole 
 affair with Hunter the night before. " It appears to have 
 been a very quiet sort of thing, and seems to be* progressing 
 very quietly still." 
 
 " Yes, their long acquaintance and friendship precluded 
 anything very novel." 
 
 Mrs. Brandon next approached him on the subject of 
 such continued attention to Laura, telling him there was 
 danger in it to them both, that she had long known Laura's 
 girlish preference for him, and it would be very easy for 
 him to change it into real affection; and assured him that, 
 from her knowledge of his aunt's character and mind, she 
 would make it very disagreeable for him and Laura to 
 meet at all, should she once discover that Laura's feelings 
 were becoming involved. She then spoke of Laura's habits 
 of implicit obedience to her mother, "which indeed is 
 very commendable ; but that she carries it into a sort of 
 morbid romance, and is the only real weakness of her 
 character, and for that reason would not sustain herself." 
 
 Henry answered affirmatively to all this, but felt any- 
 thing else, for two very good reasons — first, because it 
 was an entirely different channel from that in which his 
 feelings flowed, and again, because he had already com- 
 mitted himself to Laura, in different ways, and intended 
 to follow the fortune of his position to whatsoever end it 
 would lead. 
 
168 BLOOM AND BRIER. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 " I have set my life upon a cast, 
 And will stand the hazard of the die." 
 
 VIOLET had now returned to the sitting-room, and 
 Henry said to her, by way of changing the direction 
 and style of conversation — 
 
 " I have to regret your absence, sister, for the last hour, as 
 for the whole length of that time I have proven, in a most 
 eminent manner, my extraordinary capacity for serious 
 reflection and for entertaining the most solemn propositions. 
 I have not only been serious ; but been sitting in grave 
 judgment on your affairs, and arranged them on the purest 
 and most formal rules of equity, however unpleasant it was 
 to me to do so. Yes, I have displayed a Roman firmness, 
 in deciding against the prospect of some pleasures which I 
 had promised myself" 
 
 "I rejoice, brother," she replied, while blushing deeply; 
 " that you have had an opportunity of refuting my asser- 
 tion of your never-ending juvenility, and that my own 
 affairs were the cause of it." 
 
 " Quite a handsome speech, my pretty sister. But I will 
 re-open the subject, if your ladyship's nerves can bear the 
 shock." -.^^^^^^ "^ 
 
 "Give me two minute^^-t^i^epare, and I will be at your 
 service ; " then, as if adjusting herself for the rehearsal, 
 she said to him with a blushing consciousness of what was 
 coming, " I am ready, most noble judge." 
 
 Henry then began addressing her with great mock 
 gravity, in the following words : 
 
 " Sister, I have been correctly informed, that without a 
 proper regard or consideration for the enjoyment of the 
 sentimental portion of the world, and for my own future 
 
BLOOM AND BRIER. 1G9 
 
 fame as a novelist — you did, yes, actually did, previous to 
 my coining home, de^stroy the materials wherewithal I had 
 for many years intended to weave a most tender and beauti- 
 ful romance. I, of course, refer to the events of youv first 
 love-affair, having determined that these events should well 
 conform to the historic rules of all * true love,' in never 
 * running smooth.' But now, I find the entire prospective 
 fabric of my fame destroyed, by your having launched your 
 fortunes on the smoothest, calmest, summer sea that ever 
 bore upon its bosom first love's frail bark, and now float as 
 
 * Idle as a painted ship 
 Upon a painted ocean.' " 
 
 " Even with humility, do I something bow to the soft 
 impeachment, and most sincerely, brother, do I regret the 
 loss which the world will sustain from the destruction of 
 your romance ; but as the only compensation in my power 
 to make, I have this instant resolved to devote much time 
 to the collection of even better material than my own affairs 
 could furnish, and may even draw some such incidents as 
 you speak of from your own personal history, judging from 
 the evidences now gathering along your path." 
 
 Here was a covert allusion to the probable difficulties of 
 a "love scrape" with his cousin; made in that prophetic 
 style so unwelcome to young persons, who already half see 
 their coming trouble through the surrounding haze. 
 
 " Yes, I thank you ; and whether it be a promise or a pro- 
 phecy, if fulfilled, the result will be the same, and quite 
 uncommon — the chronicle and the chronicler united." 
 
 " No, not so very ; we at least have one noble instance of 
 an author making merchandise of his own sorrow — Lord 
 Byron." 
 
 " Your instance clears up the doubt. Suppose we next 
 name the style of the eflTort — whether autobiography, epic, 
 chronicle, or romance ; for I promise you my pen shall be 
 15 
 
170 BLOOM AND BRIER. 
 
 equally facile in either composition, though it sound pre- 
 sumptuous for me to say it. I have an equal admiration for 
 Froisart and for Sir Walter — one undertakes a chronicle 
 and ends with a romance, the other begins a romance and 
 ends Avith a chronicle ; both, however, succeed in giving the 
 most charming stories of love and chivalry." 
 
 " I am glad, brother, that our nonsense has really sug- 
 gested an idea to me — a good one too — that you do in- 
 deed set to work at writing a novel." Then smiling, she 
 continued, " it will suit the character of your mind. That 
 love of the marvellous — ihiiiinventive faculty for which 
 you were so distinguished when a youth, in both of which 
 I think you have wonderfully improved — will have a fine 
 field to revel in ; one in which, as Sheridan once said, you 
 can * draw on your memory for your jests, and your ima- 
 gination for your facts.' But then I must stipulate that 
 you do not indulge too far in that direction, as I cannot 
 bear your stilted romances, where all the heroes are larger, 
 finer-looking, braver, and wealthier than ever men get to 
 be, so far as I have seen ; and the heroines, nobler bred, 
 more accomplished, more deeply in love, and more perfect, 
 than we poor girls ever get to be; and having the two 
 making grand speeches on subjects that never come up in 
 real life." 
 
 "Yes — well, I thank you most graciously for your com- 
 pliments to my 'marvellousuess,' my 'inventive faculty,' 
 and my * imagination ; ' but I see that you are anxious to 
 clip my wings immediately in the beginning. I fear your 
 own easy love-life has made you so matter-of-fact, so ple- 
 beianized your ideas, that you think every heroine should 
 be named Polly, and every hero Peter." 
 
 " No, no, brother," she replied, laughing heartily ; " I do 
 not think that, nor do I think that every hero should be a 
 Colonel Mortimer, nor every heroine a Lady Fitzgerald ; 
 the one wrapped in a splendid military cloak, but allowing 
 
BLOOM AND BRIER. 171 
 
 tlie hilt of his sword to pcej) out, and tlie heroine in a 
 aplendid velvet riding-robe, with a white plume sweeping 
 I'roni her hat ; both superbly mounted on Arabians, and 
 accidentally meeting at a dark wood on the highway, just 
 as the lady's bridle is seized by a robber, etc., etc. No, 
 none of that, I charge you. Such perhaps never happened, 
 and certiiinly never will again." 
 
 " Yes, I understand you, I think, and shall endeavor to 
 benefit by your suggestions. Palinurus-like, I shall en- 
 deavor to avoid the Scylla and the Charybdis of the too 
 common, and the too uncommon. Indeed, the thing shall 
 be perfect. What else could it be, since my noble self is 
 to be the hero, and lovely cousin Laura the heroine?" 
 
 "Even so; but as I see you either intend to act or write a 
 romance, I will give you my general idea of such things, 
 as perhaps suggestive of something new." 
 " Exactly so, my learned sister." 
 
 "Well, a romance is indeed a history — the history of 
 ideal events ; and therefore the mirror should be held up 
 to nature, that it may reflect life as it actually passes before 
 us : that is, if the narrative refers to the present period." 
 
 " Yes, confine yourself to the present, sister ; the story 
 must of necessity be one of to-day." 
 
 " Then, I will further premise, by saying that you of 
 course intend a presentation of patrician life; if so, there 
 should be no plot, (plots are old-fashioned,) involving 
 strange and unnatural contretemps — that grade of life 
 furnishes no plots ; every event has a natural relation to the 
 succeeding one ; and though they cannot be foreseen, there 
 is no mystery. All the events of life in that stratum of 
 society are plainly connected, and develop themselves in 
 a simple manner, showing the paternity of one event to 
 the other ; and so far from exciting the mind, we are as- 
 tonished afterward that we had not foreseen them. Indeed, 
 there is very little plot or mystery in any grade of life. 
 
172 BLOOM AXD BRIER. 
 
 There are general laws of universal application, and all 
 the ends of life are worked out within those limits. Pur- 
 poses fail or succeed, according to rational laws; all other 
 representations are but ridiculous absurdities. The vari- 
 ously distorted plots of our romance writers is the chief 
 basis of the arguments used against romance reading, 
 and — " 
 
 " Stop, sister ; I think you should allow me the privilege 
 of some slight plot in this novel of mine ; for you tell me 
 that I will never be able to persuade ray cousin to become 
 Mrs. Henry Brandon ; and what sort of novel would it be 
 to break down right in the middle ? " 
 
 "Oh! that must often happen according to your own 
 theory, by adoption, of 'true love never running smooth ;' 
 and better break down at the natural termination of the 
 story, than, to uphold it with an absurdity." 
 
 "Ah! well, well — write a short one — yes, I will consider 
 your suggestions ; but just for the present, let us leave the 
 future romance, and come back to those actualities of the 
 present that make up romance." 
 
 " Very well," said Violet, who had been playing shy of 
 the subject, " let me hear you." 
 
 " Mother informs me that you have given your consent 
 to become iSIrs. Tom Hunter, at no very distant period 
 ahead. True or not ? " 
 
 Affecting great self-possession, while the crimson rose to 
 her very temples, she replied : " Yes, brother ; have you 
 any objection ? " 
 
 " Very far from it — I approve your choice ; but you 
 should have made some show of consulting me — your elder, 
 and your only brother." 
 
 " Well, brother, I have met your views, by asking if you 
 had any objection." 
 
 "Very well, all right; but allow me to submit a few 
 catechetics to your maidenly consideration." 
 
BLOOM AND BRIKR. 173 
 
 " Certainly." 
 
 " Has it ever occurred to you, in these young hours of 
 roseate love, ■whether you would be as willing to be a 'help- 
 mate ' to said Thomas in the hours of adversity, as you are 
 to be his lady of ease, elegance, and luxury, in the gay 
 time of his prosperity?" 
 
 "No; I had not thought directly about it ; but now that 
 you point my attention to it, I can answer that I would." 
 
 "Very fiue ; well, has it ever occurred to you that your 
 united fortunes would be such as seldom falls to the share 
 of young people in beginning life, and that you would 
 occupy a pre-eminent position over your past associates in 
 that respect ? " 
 
 Violet, thinking that he insinuated mercenary motives, 
 quickly replied, " No, brother, no ; the idea of property, 
 fortune, wealth, has never once entered my mind. I have 
 never thought of wealth. In all the walks of life I shall 
 ever aim to be true to the peace and honor of my — husband ; 
 and above all, be true to my own heart and character ; to 
 these ends I would meet adversity with an unflinching, 
 fearless heart, and with a stronger, readier hand, than you 
 may think I possess ; health is all that I ask — my heart is 
 right, and ready, and willing, to meet every demand of life." 
 
 The last words were spoken with an energy, and a bright- 
 ness flashing from her eye, and w^ith a glowing bloom suf- 
 fusing her cheek, that told of their noble source. 
 
 Both of them rose at once, as if by some common sen- 
 timent ; the brother placing his arm affectionately around 
 her, kissed her blushing cheek, saying, with a laugh : 
 
 " Glorious ! transcendent ! you "play the heroine, sister, 
 even in our mother's chamber." 
 
 " Oh ! brother, you should be ashamed to have so excited 
 me, merely for your amusement." 
 
 " I had a purpose in it, Violet. I am looking out for a 
 heroine for my forthcoming romance.'' 
 15* 
 
174 BLOOM AXD BRIE-R. 
 
 In the course of further conversation, Mi'^. Brandon asked 
 her son when he thought of beginning his law studies ? 
 
 " In a few days ; why, mother, are you all getting tired 
 of seeing my idleness ? " 
 
 " Oh, no ; only I had heard you speak frequently of late 
 of going into the office of Judge Royal." 
 
 "Yes, I had spoken to him in regard to it; but he is 
 away so much of his time, and is away now, that I think I 
 shall read with some one else." 
 
 " Brother," said Violet, " why not read with Mr. Camp- 
 bell ? " 
 
 " For several good and sufficient reasons ; the first of 
 which is, that it comes up to the parable of the blind lead- 
 ing the blind ; and next, and last, and all, I do not think 
 my style suits his style, and his suits mine as little. He is 
 clearly a well-bred gentleman, but belongs to that class of 
 deferential mannerists, who were never agreeable to me. I 
 would not, for instance, be as seriously reverential to Uncle 
 Robert as he is, for both of his girls." 
 
 " That is the surest method of winning," said his mother. 
 
 "It may be; but somehow I prefer losing with a contest, 
 than to win by servility." 
 
 " Yes, and with such notions you will always have con- 
 tests, whether you win or not." 
 
 "Perhaps I may ; but let me follow the law of my life. I 
 would lay a small w^ager that at college, Campbell always 
 behaved with the most scrupulous regard for every silly 
 by-law, and in every little difficulty in his text-books, he 
 bolted off to a tutor's room, for a grave and reverential 
 consultation. But in the world he will follow precedent 
 strictly, and by a most deferential respect for his superiors 
 in place, will very soon reach those small positions which 
 they keep in reserve for the faithful. In political life, the 
 system of securing office has been reduced to such com- 
 pleteness, that those who hold them, frown down anything 
 
BLOOM AND BRIER. 175 
 
 like an original idea, by combined censure; and thus, the 
 whole pack live in mediocrity by prescription, and com- 
 mit the gravest errors, from pure ignorance and original 
 timidity. While they are the best-behaved, sleekest-look- 
 ing men you will meet in a summer's day, they are the 
 most dangerous men to society, simply because they do not 
 know when they enunciate error or commit faults. Indeed, 
 from the front to the rear one, they think they can do no 
 wrong, while following precedent. I speak evenly of those 
 only who intend to do rir/ht, and I often fear that we have 
 more to apprehend from our good men than our bad. Yes, 
 I think Campbell will succeed in life, by just such grada- 
 tions, policy, and his extremely obsequious manners. I 
 want no such success. He will marry Lucy Brandon, and 
 she will do what the world calls well, while I — but never 
 mind." 
 
 " Oh ! brother, you are just a little envious of his smooth- 
 sailing before aunt. You should follow his example," said 
 Violet, banteringly. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVII. 
 
 " But then her face, 
 So lovely, yet so arch, so full of mirth, 
 The overflowiugs of an innocent heart." 
 
 AS Mr. Jerome and Dr. Wilton were riding along on 
 their way home from Hunter's, with nothing to dis- 
 turb the silence save the occasional humming of some love- 
 song by the Doctor, the latter suddenly turned to Mr. 
 Jerome, and asked him how he had liked the "round 
 trip." 
 
 "Oh, finely, elegantly," said Mr. Jerome. "I think the 
 little extemporized dancing-party the very nicest affair of 
 the kind I have seen for many day^ — really artistic. The 
 
176 BLOOM AXD BRIER. 
 
 conception of it, the manner of getting it up, the handsome 
 and unique style of the notes, the hospitable reception, 
 the gay, social, and intellectual abandon, the music, old 
 Sancho, and the joyous assembly of negroes, and the splen- 
 did supper, all presented one of the best miniature pictures 
 that could have been drawn of social life, happiness, joy- 
 ousness, and abundance of Southern plantation homes." 
 
 " Yes," said Dr. Wilton ; " but you have left out of your 
 very just enumeration of features, the most striking and 
 chiefest of all." 
 
 " What do you refer to, Doctor ? " 
 
 " Why surely, the beautiful daughters of these plantation 
 homes," replied the Doctor, with a hearty laugh. 
 
 " Yes, I beg pardon ; it is indeed seldom, either in 
 plantation homes or elsewhere, that so many very beauti- 
 ful girls, for the number, can be found ; by the way. Doctor, 
 which did you think the handsomest?" 
 
 " It is a difficult question to decide ; but there was one 
 that I thought approached perfection, nigher than the rest." 
 
 " Pray, which one was that ? " asked Mr. Jerome, smiling 
 at the Doctor's extravagance ; " Miss Morton ? " 
 
 " No ; I will not say it was Miss Morton, unless you de- 
 mand it." 
 
 " Miss Hunter, then? if I should make no demand." 
 
 " Yes, Miss Hunter ; if you allow me full scope of ex- 
 pression. Though possibly her sweeping beauty is more 
 in my own eye, perhaps, than in any one else's — in yours 
 at least." 
 
 " I discovered that you construed Laura Brandon's tem- 
 porary bestowal of her into a real fee-simple title." 
 
 " Why, was I very pertinacious in my attentions to 
 her?" 
 
 " Oh, no ; not beyond a very decided expression of pre- 
 ference." 
 
 "Did she appear wearied with it?" 
 
BLOOM AND BRIER. 177 
 
 " Not at all ; rather to the contrary — that 's the style to 
 win, Vamoiir, always with a girl — in the teeth of jaun- 
 diced speculation, to the contrary." 
 
 " Well, I am glad you tell me so, since I even more than 
 hinted that I should do myself the pleasure of calling very 
 soon at Judge Hunter's. By the way, the old Judge did 
 the handsome thing yesterday. He came up to me, and 
 after conversing a little, remarked that he had wished to 
 see me for some week or two, for the purpose of getting me 
 to practise on his lower plantation, if within my circuit. I 
 thanked him, and accepted. There is one objection to 
 it, however." 
 
 " What is that ? it pays six or seven hundred dollars a 
 year." 
 
 " Yes ; but then I do not go by his house in going there 
 — ha ! ha ! ha ! " 
 
 " Oh ! you will frequently meet him, and he will of 
 course ask you to come over to see him when you can, 
 which invitation you will, of course, very modestly accept, 
 though professing to have but little time at your dis- 
 posal." 
 
 "Yes, I am obliged to you, Parson, for the idea and the 
 modus. I wish the Judge and his negroes all possible good 
 health ; but what sickness there is to he, I wish would begin 
 right away. I '11 do my best on it. But I am making all 
 the confessions — let me hear from you, Parson." 
 
 " I can't say that I have any great confessions to make, 
 Doctor. I suppose you expect me to say something of Miss 
 Morton." 
 
 " Yes ; as I fancy you would select her as your preferred 
 subject." 
 
 " I scarcely know what to say. I certainly do admire 
 her ; more, doubtless, than she admires me. There is more 
 of the subtle essence of intellect indicated in her physique, 
 than in that of any young woman of my acquaintance." 
 
178 BLOOM AND BRIER. 
 
 " Make an exception, Parson, in favor of Miss Hunter, 
 if you please." 
 
 " No, I cannot ; Sally Morton has more intellect than 
 any girl I know — too much for her happiness, unless she 
 had more means of using it. She has too much mind for 
 a female, unless it runs in the channel of hook-making, or 
 something of the kind ; but, even that is a sort of capacity 
 to itself, requiring more mechanical art than genius or 
 learning. With a small share of learning, the mechanic 
 who builds an old woman's hand-loom, can write an average 
 book. Miss Morton has ten times more capacity for writing 
 than nine in ten have, who succeed at it, yet I think she 
 would fail. A book written by persons of high genius, is 
 too great a draft on common intellect. She could not adapt 
 her thoughts to that lower level, which the critical and the 
 every-day reading world demands — her mind does not 
 move in the direction of every-day practicality. She will 
 perform every-day obligations if called on, as she appears 
 to have a high sense of her duty ; but not con amove. She 
 is, peculiarly, a type of the highest Southern female charac- 
 ter, in which there is a want of adaptability to the lower 
 grades of duty. This style of woman seems more, than for 
 any other purpose, intended to reproduce their character in 
 men. The sons of such women, it is, that give the true 
 tone to Southern life and character. Her intellect is of the 
 highest female character ; her attainments are handsome, 
 and very accomplishing; her wit is keen and elegant; her 
 mirth is as pure and joyous as a child's ; her love of genuine 
 sentiment, and her appreciation of true romance, give her 
 character that charm which few can resist who come in 
 association with her. I had nighly said, compels them to 
 love her; and to love her — is infatuation." 
 
 " Then you confess yourself to be in love with the young 
 lady?" 
 
 " I confess that I have that feeling, which, if left to itself, i 
 
BLOOM AND BRIER. 179 
 
 would soon lead me to love her ; and all that keeps me from 
 it, is a sort of conservatism ^vhich my feelings exercise over 
 themselves, while not encouraged to give loose rein to their 
 inclinations by herself." 
 
 After this, both gentlemen again relapsed into silence, 
 and spurred their horses to quicker gait. The remainder 
 of the road was travelled over, with scarcely a word from 
 either. 
 
 Reaching home they each went to their own rooms. Dr. 
 Wilton, finding two or three notes from patients, was very 
 soon on the road again. Mr. Jerome, after making some 
 inquiries about home affairs, put on his studying gown and 
 went to the library. 
 
 Mr. Jerome, as we have already said, had been left an 
 orphan at an early age, and the heir to a handsome estate. 
 After the completion of his education he had, as too many 
 young men of genius and wealth do, passed several years 
 of high frolicsome life; but in the height of his mad 
 career, some private circumstance had directed his thoughts 
 to the subject of religion ; and he very soon, not only united 
 himself to the Church, but resolved upon entering the 
 ministry. On finishing his divinity course, he returned to 
 his old home, and was immediately called to the parish 
 of which he now had charge ; but still resided at his own 
 home, where, as we have already said, Dr. Wilton lived 
 with him, and practised his profession. He and old Mr. 
 Thaxton were his only home companions. The latter we 
 have also spoken of, but it may not be amiss to say of him 
 in this connection, that he had always been remarkable for 
 his scrupulous honesty, his quiet gentlemanly manners, a 
 keen insight into character, and a fine natural mind, which 
 had been well cultivated by reading, and by constant asso- 
 ciation with the best society of the surrounding country. 
 No one ever thought of Mr. Thaxton but as an equal, 
 and a welcome visitor at any time that his employment 
 
180 BLOOM AND BRIER. 
 
 permitted the recreation, simply, because he never pushed 
 himself upon any one out of his sphere. In this man- 
 ner, he was highly esteemed by the older members of the 
 families, and a universal favorite with the younger ones. 
 
 Mr. Thaxton was in the library looking over some books 
 when Mr. Jerome entered. 
 
 " Ah, James," said he, " back again. I am glad to see 
 you — had almost begun to think something serious had hap- 
 pened to you ; and had begun to think a little of taking a 
 neighborhood search for you, or getting out letters testa- 
 mentary on your — library, at least." 
 
 " Oh, no ; nothing out of the way, but the overstaying 
 of my appointed time a little." 
 
 " Yes, I think so ; where is the Doctor ? " 
 
 " Come — and gone again." 
 
 " All right ; several have sent for him. You must have 
 spent your time very agreeably. How are they all over 
 there f " 
 
 " Very well ; and asked why you had not been to see 
 them of late. Miss Laura Brandon asked particularly 
 about you." 
 
 " I am obliged to them ; and particularly to my sweet 
 young friend Laura." 
 
 "And your old boy-friend, Henry Brandon, seemed 
 never tired talking and asking about you." 
 
 " I am obliged to him, too ; and have really wished to go 
 over there, ever since I heard he had returned, just to see 
 how he looks and to hear him talk." 
 
 " He says he has appointed several times to come to see 
 you, but something prevented." 
 
 " Yes ; he was a great favorite of mine when a lad, some 
 five or six years since. I worked near a year at his mother's, 
 if you remember? No, you do not ; you were off at college 
 about that time. Well, I was there when he was preparing 
 for college himself, at the academy, and a wild chap he was. 
 
BLOOM AND BRIER. 181 
 
 I always uoticed thougli, that there was no taste for low 
 dissipation in him, nor anything smacking of meanness. 
 His uncle did not entirely comprehend him, and used to 
 say tliat he did not know how to manage him. I told him 
 to let the boy alotie, that he was all right, and that his 
 wildness was little else than love of action and joyousness 
 of heart ; but he did not altogether take in the idea, and 
 he and his wife both, rather got it down that Henry was a 
 very wild youth, though they appeared very fond of him, 
 and he was a great deal at their house." 
 
 " He is at home now, and about as gay a lark as you 
 have seen for many a day." 
 
 " I expect so ; he used to go to every country dance he 
 could hear of, particularly down in the Hills, without let- 
 ting it be known to any one except his boy * Sam' who made 
 all the arrangements for him, and went with him too. I 
 have not seen Sam for several years ; he was a sharp imp, 
 with as great a genius for deviltry as his master. Henry 
 loved him better than any white boy on earth, and Sam 
 would have fought to his death for Henry. Yes, Sam would 
 have the horses ready at the right time and place ; and I'll 
 wager, that not a man or woman down there but remem- 
 bers Henry Brandon and his boy Sam." 
 
 " How did his mother like all that ? " 
 
 " Oh, not much, of course ; but she seldom found it out 
 for some time, as he was always back by day, before she 
 had risen ; and you say he appears wild and gay yet? " 
 
 " Yes ; all life, animation, and fun, and one of the finest 
 dancei*s I ever saw." 
 
 " Yes ; he w^as a fine dancer, and one of the handsomest 
 boys I ever saw. Laura was a very fine dancer also. I 
 have seen them dance together often, at their little neigh- 
 borhood parties. Henry used to claim her for his sweet- 
 heart when a boy, and is quite likely to do so as a man. 
 16 
 
182 BLOOM AND BRIER. 
 
 But the old people will object to it 7iow — it was a little 
 sly fun for them then." 
 
 " I rather think you have a correct estimate of him. I 
 remarked in his conversation, the other night, with the 
 young people, a rich vein of wit, humor, and thought, and 
 last night, in conversation with Campbell, he appeared to 
 handle him with all ease ; and you know, Campbell is viewed 
 as a young man of fine mind." 
 
 " Ah, just from the style of them, without knowing any- 
 thing of them as men, I would lay my wager on Henry 
 every time. Henry will be longer in maturing ; he will be a 
 man just coming in, when Campbell has culminated. Camp- 
 bell will come on the carpet first, because he will court 
 favor, which Henry will never do ; he has too much mind 
 — he is gay, and will always be gay, and for years will pass 
 for less than his real worth ; but he has the true ring, and 
 the world will eventually call for him. But tell me, who 
 else did you see ? " 
 
 " Oh, a great number, of whom I have often heard you 
 speak, some old, and some young — among others. Miss 
 Gray." 
 
 "Did you, indeed? She is a game-looking girl, isn't 
 she ? How did you like her ? " 
 
 " She is a ^ame-looking girl, as you say. I felt a little 
 shy of her ; but young Brandon and she seemed to get 
 along admirably. She is very handsome, and very gay." 
 
 "Ah, he would get along with the devil — begging your 
 pardon — if he would go at all. By the way, that would 
 be a superb match, if old Gray should take a notion to it." 
 
 " He and the young lady both took quite a fancy to him 
 yesterday, I assure you." 
 
 " Good ! Henry will win, if he starts ; and old Gray 
 could n't stop him, if he would. I would bet my wig on 
 that. The only objection to that family is its disposition 
 to religious fanaticism. They all belong to a little piece 
 
B L () O M A N D B K I E R . 1 83 
 
 of the Method i.st denomination lately shivered off, called 
 Reformers, I believe. But did you see any girl that you 
 liked better than yourself, James? — as I am getting tired 
 of a household where masters play mistress." 
 
 Before Mr. Jerome had time to reply, a message came 
 to him that one of those little difficulties had taken place 
 which were of frequent occurrence, on large plantations, 
 between a driver and the overseer, which only the master 
 could arrange. He was not long engaged in the settlement, 
 and, making things satisfactory to both parties, he returned 
 to the libra rv, where Mr. Thaxton still remained. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII. 
 
 " Genius is supposed to be a power of producing excellencies which 
 are out of the reach of the rules of art; a power which no precepts can 
 teach, and which no industry can acquire." 
 
 "VTES," answered Mr. Jerome to Mr. Thaxton's last ques- 
 JL tion, " I saw several that I would be willing to swap 
 myself off for, and that I could love, too ; but whether that 
 will avail me anything, is the point. I saw Miss Morton, 
 and absolutely danced with her." 
 
 " Ah ! an Episcopal clergyman dancing with a Baptist 
 sister ! That is something new under the sun. AVell, she 
 is truly a great girl. But then it appears to me that you 
 have had that affair, as kuuck boys say, in the nine hole, 
 and can't get it out ; but, now that you have danced with 
 her, perhaps the matrimonial skies will brighten. I am 
 rejoiced that you have made a move. Any direction, in 
 euch matters, is better than standing still. If a love-affair 
 ever stagnates, ten to one if it survives." 
 
 " You will discourage me, Mr. Thaxton, with your hard 
 philosophy." 
 
184 BLOOM AND BRIER. 
 
 " I do not wish to do so ; for Sally Morton possesses very- 
 rare qualities, and is another of the young people for whom 
 I have prophesied well. I knew her father, and a most 
 excellent gentleman he was ; and I have seen a good deal 
 of Sally since she has resided at Judge Hunter's ; but with 
 all of her very high attributes, she will ifever be generally 
 admired by young men — she has too much wit, too much 
 mirth, too much gayety, too much sense — genius; all of 
 which are very grave offences to the dull plodders of this 
 every-day world. AU people make war upon genius, whether 
 it is rich or poor, but particularly if poor. Make a note 
 of that ! I, however, have a philosophy of my own to meet 
 that fact, which is, that every one's own life is a law^ unto 
 itself, and the beginning, when clearly and unmistakably 
 given out, always foreshadows the end. In her case, every- 
 thing calls for an influential position, at some time of life. 
 Nature must be true to itself — cannot waste its own wealth ; 
 and, by all the laws and affinities of life, she is bound to 
 get back her lost place. There is everything in blood." 
 
 " You have just developed that idea, Mr. Thaxton. I 
 have never heard you broach it before," said Mr. Jerome, 
 smiling. 
 
 " I can't say ; but whether I have or not, I have long 
 believed it, and believe more than I say. I have had no 
 occasion to express it to you before." 
 
 " According to that idea, there would never happen any- 
 thing permanently adverse in life. Nature, as you call it, 
 ultimately restoring all we may have lost." 
 
 "Ah, I don't mean what I say to have so literal and 
 matter-of-fact a construction ; nor do I mean to say that 
 the human mind is always able to control the direction of 
 affairs. I only say that the gifts of nature always become 
 recognized at some time or other during life — that life 
 never ends till they are — both go together, and that this 
 recognition is by that much what the mind covets, demands, 
 
B L O O M A N D liUI K R . 185 
 
 and will have. For instance, a man may have intellect 
 and parts, and yet be very little able to control the course 
 of events; yet, the ultimate recognition of the fact that he 
 is a man of intellect carries with it a certain influence, and 
 that influence, however modified, is personal eminence, and 
 a restoration of the rights which, to that time, had been 
 obscured. I don't mean that, in the course of time, a man 
 will receive some office equal to the quality of his mind — 
 for they are generally received by the least worthy of all ; 
 nor do I mean that a man will receive back any certain 
 amount of coin which he may have previously lost ; but 
 that his mind and character will be estimated according to 
 their true worth ; and estimation is influence, with or with- 
 out position." 
 
 " You think, then, that real worth is generally obscured 
 for the time, and that error is the law of life." 
 
 " Yes, to a very large extent, I do. How else could we 
 account for the periodical derangement of society ? Yet 
 they have their periods of correction. The derangements 
 come through the lesser capacities — who, as I said, gener- 
 ally hold position — and their correction through the greater. 
 These lesser capacities are largely in the ascendant — as 
 nine to one. For instance, I mean that about nine in ten 
 of our public men are absolutely unfit for the place, and 
 would be far more respectable if they were — where I have 
 always been — at the jack-plane. They are nothing more nor 
 less than moral and political maggots, breeding rottenness 
 and stench ; and were it not for the influence of the tenth 
 man — who is, nine times in ten, out of power — the whole 
 machinery of life would go to the devil in ten generations. 
 This is w^hat Nature calls for — influence, and it is bound 
 to be recognized at some time or other." 
 
 " Why, Mr. Thaxton, you have elaborated quite a sys- 
 tem of philosophy since I left home ; but I am afraid it is 
 a little cranky. What has happened to you ? " 
 16* 
 
186 BLOOM AND BRIER. 
 
 " Nothing has happened to me. * Cranky,' your great 
 grandmother ! What I say is just as true as your preach- 
 ing — not saying anything against that, either. But I sup- 
 pose you think me ' cranky ' because I happened to get a 
 little out of sight of Sally Morton." 
 
 "Perhaps that is the reason," said Mr. Jerome, laughing. 
 
 " But I Avas talking of her." 
 
 " Yes, I know ; but be more direct, and not so abstract" 
 he said, laughingly. 
 
 " I thought so. Just the way with you preachers — get 
 love into your heads. But, never mind, if you can get 
 her, do so ; she will adorn any gentleman's house. I only 
 fear you can't do it." 
 
 *' Why do you fear it ? " asked Mr. Jerome, with an evi- 
 dent interest in the answer. 
 
 "I will answer you, James, provided you will not get 
 hurt if I bear heavy upon you." 
 
 " Oh, speak your mind freely, Mr. Thaxton. You know 
 you always have that privilege." 
 
 " Well, then, Sally Morton is, by the law of her nature, 
 supremely ambitious. She does not show it now, because 
 she does not feel any identity with the situation, which 
 precludes her mind from its normal action. When she 
 marries, or comes to marry — as all girls expect — the 
 sense of responsibility for the future will come back, and 
 this ambitious nature of hers will suggest the selection of 
 such a man as will secure the success which the law of her 
 life spreads out in gorgeous beauty before her. In this 
 selection, that which we may call instinct — for the Avant 
 of a better word to express that subtle feature of the mind 
 which penetrates the shadowy future — would lead her to 
 fear you — to fear that you would not meet the demand — 
 unless you could clear up the apprehension." 
 
 "Mr. Thaxton, you are quite transcendental in your 
 reasoning. You say that marriage is not directed by 
 
BLOOM AND bkij:r. 187 
 
 reason, hut by some unseen power that influences our lives, 
 over which we exert no control." 
 
 " Yes, but not so emphatically as you interpret me. Nor 
 do I mean it to be of universal application — only to spe- 
 cial instances. Nor do I exactly mean as you say. I 
 mean that there is a certain aspiration, which more con- 
 trols some hearts, in the matter of marriage, than those 
 faculties of the mind w^hich we are in the common habit 
 of exercising ; and these faculties are subservient to that 
 aspiration, even when we least know^ of it. But let me be 
 more specific — less abstract, as you say — and you will 
 comprehend me better." 
 
 " Very good, proceed ; I am ready for an excoriation." 
 
 " If you think I intend to excoriate you, I shall say 
 nothing more." 
 
 " I was merely jesting, Mr. Thaxton. I am really anx- 
 ious to hear your opinions." 
 
 "Fii-st, then, I will give them in familiar language. 
 You are an indolent man — rather so. I mean that, hav- 
 ing never been under the necessity, you have never trained 
 yourself to putting out all your strength ; and no man can 
 put out his whole mental force, unless he knows how to 
 put out his whole physical power. They are indissolubly 
 connected." 
 
 " Are you going to argue that inertia is the law of my 
 life?" 
 
 " No ; but it certainly modifies its momentum. It is a 
 sort of negative quantity — vis inertice I may call it — and 
 no man who has it can work his mind to high achieve- 
 ment, no matter how complete in its parts, unless he forces 
 himself above it. In as far as he fails to do this, he fails 
 to bring his mind up to its capacitated standard of action ; 
 and the qualities left unexercised are, of necessity, the 
 higher qualities, because of being the most difficult to 
 move. Now, for instance, in the construction of any com- 
 
188 BLOOM AND BRIEK. 
 
 plete mind, there enters, to greater or less extent, that 
 capacity for glowing imagination which we call poetry — 
 eloquence — when evolved in proper language. To pos- 
 sess this power of language, is a thing of first necessity, 
 and can only be acquired by patient, laborious industry. 
 Byron did not write Childe Harold without a great deal 
 of patient thought and persistent effort. Language comes 
 by study, is the child of thought and emotion, and they 
 act and re-act on each other. Thought begets a word, and 
 another word another thought ; therefore, in organizing 
 thought for expression, you go to the deep intricacies and 
 machinery of language ; and from this laboratory of lan- 
 guage you return, newly armed, to conquer in the realms of 
 thought. Eloquence, poetry, etc., are but little else than 
 the expression, by one man, through patient, laborious 
 industry, of what every other feels, without the power of 
 expression. That is why they are so esteemed and ap- 
 plauded. * Poeta nascitur, non fit,' is not altogether tiaie 
 — they are made as well as born. Now, you being deficient 
 in thorough training of your strength, you are deficient in 
 this noble capacity of organizing thought into language. 
 Being deficient in language, you also are, in tracing deli- 
 cate emotions to their subtle sources, and ' wreaking them 
 upon expression.' Byron, by the use of that very word 
 wreak, gives out the idea of labor. Nothing without labor." 
 
 " Do you think then," asked ]Mr. Jerome, " that poetry 
 and eloquence rank higher in the scale of intellect, than 
 strong reasoning power ? " 
 
 " No matter what I think ; a woman does, nor shall I go 
 into an analysis." 
 
 " But, Mr. Thaxton," said Mr. Jerome, rather apologetic- 
 ally ; " I am not in a profession that admits of this am- 
 bitious display which you speak of." 
 
 "You are mistaken; the ministry presents the very 
 highest field of oratory. It is the subject, that to a large 
 
BLOOM AND RRIER. 189 
 
 extent lends Paradise Lost its splendid eloquence. You 
 content youi-self with too little. You content yourself with 
 a simple presentation of the truths of the Bible, which is 
 very well, but that is not all that is necessary ; the Bible 
 points to eloquence, but without a great deal of true per- 
 sistent labor, you will never be an eloquent divine. You 
 \yill, therefore, but half develop your profession, while you do 
 not elaborate — dive deep." 
 
 Mr. Jerome somehow thought, that from these opinions 
 of Mr. Thaxton he had obtained a key to many things 
 Miss Morton had said to him^ and almost unconsciously 
 rose to his library. The old man broke out in a laugh, and 
 said that he had not intended to drive him to his books so 
 soon, as the old bachelor was in " Bracebridge Hall." 
 
 " I am not ready to leave you yet, James. I have not 
 asked you all that I wished to know. How is my very favor- 
 ite from childhood, Laura Brandon, getting along? You 
 have scarcely mentioned her name." 
 
 "She is as pretty as ever, even grows sweeter-looking; 
 and really more easily graceful and agreeable, than any of 
 the girls over there, I think, which is saying a great deal 
 for me; and just as you said, I should be much aston- 
 ishe'd, if she and young Brandon did not get up some few 
 love-passages yet ; they were much together, and seemed 
 highly delighted with each otli^r. But you don't think 
 the mother would consent to anything of the kind ? " 
 
 " No ; I know she would not. Campbell will suit them 
 both better ; from what I have heard of Campbell, he is a fine 
 young fellow, but then Henry Brandon is worth a battalion 
 of him. But let me ask after our young friend the Doctor, 
 how is he doing over there ? I hear him frequently speak 
 of Julia Hunter : is she the bright particular star of his 
 devotion ? " 
 
 "Yes; I think the Doctor supposed himself sent for, to 
 attend to her particular case, and he did his full duty." 
 
190 BLOOM AND BRIER. 
 
 " Well, the Doctor is a nice, deserving young man, and 
 she is a very nice girl, and the two would make a nice 
 mutch. But how about Thomas Hunter and Violet Bran- 
 don?" 
 
 " That seems to be a well-settled matter. I suppose they 
 will marry very soon, from all reports." 
 
 " Every one appears to be doing rather better than my 
 old favorites, Henry and Laura." 
 
 " I don't know, they seemed very happy together." 
 
 " Ah ! they will have trouble, if ever they call each other 
 anything but cousin. You say though, he was w^ith Mary 
 Gray ; that rather complicates matters a little. But I will 
 leave you now, James, to your books and your next ser- 
 mon," said the old man as he left. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIX. 
 
 " He was her own, her ocean treasure, cast 
 Like a rich wreck — her first love, and her last." 
 
 HENRY BRAXDOX had appeared to have forgotten 
 his purpose of reading law ; and between cousins, 
 home, and Thomas Hunter, his time seemed speeding along 
 most joyously. The cloud gradually thickened around the 
 brow of Mrs. Robert Brandon, as his easy intercourse with 
 Laura had appeared to increase ; but as he purposely ab- 
 stained from the commission of any ouvert act, he disre- 
 garded as yet the threatenings of the coming storm. 
 
 Both of the young people seemed satisfied with the ex- 
 isting relationship, and both feared any positive change. 
 Laura played a little shy of receiving any direct declara- 
 tion from him, as he would sometimes approach the subject, 
 
BLOOM AND BRIER. 191 
 
 in a manner though, that perfectly satijified him of his 
 place in her heart. 
 
 The contemplated marriage of Hunter and Violet was 
 now an aclyiowledged thing, and preliminary arrangements 
 hud actually begun for the wedding. 
 
 Young Brandon saw Mr. Campbell more frequently, and 
 was beginning to have a higher appreciation of him. 
 
 In connection with Violet's preparations, Laura and 
 Lucy had appointed when they would come over and spend 
 a day or two with her. This Henry was informed of, which 
 he took advantage of, and despatched a note by Essex to 
 Hunter, requesting him to come over next morning as he 
 wished to see him. He then wrotfe to Campbell, by his 
 friend " Sam Brandon," informing him of all the facts, and 
 to be sure and come out and spend the day with him. Next 
 day, not long after Laura and Lucy had arrived, Hunter 
 rode up, and not a great while after, Mr, Campbell came. 
 Violet and her mother, not knowing that it was through 
 Henry's agency that they had come, treated their visits 
 as a very agreeable contretemps. A suspicion to the con- 
 trary, however, soon obtained among the girls, from some 
 remark of Henry's, but required no apology. 
 
 It was the last day of October, and a happier one was 
 never to be passed by that joyous little company. One 
 there was of the number, whose wit, mirth, and gladsorae- 
 ness that day, glittered with the flashing, sparkling freshness 
 of morning dew on the tinted rose. It was " Love's vounf? 
 dream," that flung a soft effulgence on a flushing heart, 
 which drooped and paled in its beauty and joy, ere time 
 had cast its shadows there. The day had been genial and 
 lovely, and its evening gentleness was only too commem- 
 orative of the sad stillness of its closing hour. As the 
 sun went sinking down the sky, it shed upon the wide lawn 
 in front of " Buckhorns " a sea of golden light, as soft as 
 the hopeless languor of dying love. The appearance of it, 
 
192 ELOOM A>'D BRIER. 
 
 all in an instant, appeared to attract the attention of Henry- 
 Brandon, who at once proposed they should take a walk 
 in due honor to the last October sun, saying, " there had 
 never been so sweet a one, since great Caesar Jiad set the 
 calendar to its present measure, or so pretty a one for mak- 
 ing love, since the gay old Roman had walked the streets 
 of Tarsus with its bewitching queen." 
 
 " Your ecstasy deserves success, Henry, whether it meets 
 with it or not," said Hunter ; " with one or two more such 
 efforts you will gain your point." 
 
 " Here goes then — since Cupid in his small cloth nes- 
 tled in his nurse's arms, or love - lorn Leander dared the 
 swelling waves of Hellespont." 
 
 " That will do — we v/ill not crack your capacity, bu t take 
 the walk." The proposition was then accepted, and all 
 proceeded to leave the house. It was not long before they 
 separated in pairs — Henry, of course, with Laura — and 
 had not gone far before each party had established con- 
 siderable distance between itself and another. 
 
 Henry and Laura had not more than half-way reached 
 the extremity of the lawn, when he said to her : 
 
 "Laura, I purposely proposed this walk, just to get a 
 suitable opportunity to make a most eloquent speech to your 
 ladyship, which I have been nearly bursting with, for more 
 than a month ; so much so, indeed, that I am at length 
 threatened with — combustion, if I do not get relief in ex- 
 pression." Then, half turning in a sort of tragico-comico 
 attitude, said — " Now, hear me, lady, for my cause." 
 
 " Certainly, cousin," she replied, laughing, " if it will 
 prevent such a dire catastrophe — not only so, but should 
 I return without an attendant, I should necessarily be ac- 
 cused of complicity in your mysterious disappearance — 
 proceed." 
 
 " Good, my lady ; and you promise to lend a willing 
 ear?" 
 
BLOOM AND BRIER. 193 
 
 " I do, my lord." 
 
 •* But even with that consent, I have resolved to fly into 
 iiNisible atoms, unless you also allow me to oratorize on 
 my own stipulations ; do you accede to that proposition 
 also?" 
 
 " I do, unless too severely exactinj^." 
 
 " It is merely that you do not interrupt me." 
 
 *' That is truly a very hard exaction to make of a woman ; 
 but then to prevent so unfortunate an event as you threaten, 
 and too, for the pleasure of the eloquence, I consent to that 
 too. You will at least allow me the privilege of looking 
 assent or dissent? " 
 
 " No ; not even that to any intensified extent. I only 
 desire an audience of the simplest form. Now, which do 
 you choose — the speech, or eternal silence ? Under which 
 king — speak or — not ? " 
 
 " Oh ! under such dreadful alternatives — the speech, of 
 coui-se. I should never otherwise hope for forgiveness," 
 said she laughing. 
 
 With a mock reverential air he began — "Oh, Cupid! 
 oh, Venus ! and all ye little viewless spirits that have small 
 offices in the gorgeous court of Love ! Now, hear ye my 
 prayer, and prosper me my suit ! Oh ! plume my wing for 
 the loftiest flight into your highest happiest realms ; and 
 let me there record, in letters of eternal light and truth, the 
 sacred secret of my heart and life ! 'T is that I — love my 
 — cousin!" Then suddenly turning, said: "Now, by the 
 shade of Apollo, I must have reward for that splendid dash 
 of eloquent love," and placing his arm around her waist, 
 he kissed the glowing cheek of the blushing, happy girl. 
 
 "NVith eyes beaming with light, and truth, and love, and 
 mirth, she refusing to consent — consented — gave the kiss, 
 and yielded up her heart forever ! 
 
 Choking for utterance, she at length found words to 
 say, "Cousin, cousin ! why, oh, why, did you tell me this? 
 
194 BLOOM AND BRIER. 
 
 Why not have left ray life to pass smoothly along in its 
 nameless bliss? Why not have left my girlhood's joyous 
 dream to slumber still in my woman's breast?" 
 
 With his arm still around her, and her hand in his, 
 he pressed her gently to his side, as she spoke these pas- 
 sionate, hopeless words. Both seemed to comprehend the 
 relation in which they were to stand for the future, and 
 for some seconds remained silent. She presently continued : 
 
 " Cousin, you will forgive me, I know, for giving way to 
 my feelings ; but your singular manner of approach to so 
 serious a subject — and one that I have long known was 
 so near to us both — betrayed me into a response which 
 probably I should not have made so madly." 
 
 " Ah, ha ! " said he — and at once destroying the form- 
 ality of the occasion — " you intended to keep the ad- 
 vantage of position, my lady-love ! " 
 
 " No, cousin, I wished no advantage, any more than I 
 know you wish it of me ; but then, perhaps, a girl owes 
 something to delicacy, even when she has perfect confi- 
 dence." 
 
 "Probably she does; but you have not violated it, that 
 I can see ; for I certainly would not have betrayed you 
 into doing so." 
 
 " I am glad you say that, as I feared you might think 
 differently. But I know^ you would not deceive me." 
 
 " Laura, your caution shows apprehension ; and now 
 that we perfectly know each other's feelings, tell me fully 
 the nature of it." 
 
 " I certainly have very great apprehension, and thought 
 you knew the source of it." 
 
 " Is it that an engagement between us will not meet the 
 approval of your parents ? " 
 
 " Yes, that is it, particularly that of mother." 
 
 "What course have you then thought of pursuing, 
 Laura ? " 
 
BLOOM A.ND BRIER. 195 
 
 '* I cannot answer you now — the question is too new." 
 
 " Have your feelings, then, any qualification?" 
 
 " Your question does me injustice, cousin ; but as I have 
 expressed some hesitation in answering your first one, it is 
 perhaps due to us both that I should now tell you that 
 your image, and onlif yours, has ever, gently, but indelibly, 
 trembled on my heart. If it knows, or has ever known, 
 the sacred feeling of love, you are its source and its pos- 
 sessor; and if you do not dou})t me now, you never will." 
 
 " Thank you, Laura, for these confiding words. And 
 now let me speak boldly and sincerely for myself, that for 
 the future there may be no doubts between us. It is no 
 secret to you, that all my life I have been called wild, fickle, 
 inconstant, and a young person of great levity. In all 
 these things the charge has been superficially correct; yet, 
 intrinsically, I knew it to be incorrect. I have often per- 
 mitted myself to pass for what I knew I was not — par- 
 tially through indifference, and in something, to a conceal- 
 ment of facts which I thought no one had a right to know, 
 which I did not see proper to express. As, for instance, 
 since my return home, there has scarcely been a moment 
 of seriousness in ray manner to you; and yet the instant 
 almost that I first saw you, after our long separation, the feel- 
 ing of the boy rushed upon the man, and I loved you with 
 all the tenderness and earnestness of both ; and though I 
 have all along known your feelings, habit and whim made 
 me keep up the partial disguise to others, but not to you." 
 
 Laura here interrupted him by asking if Lucy had never 
 told him anything in regard to her. 
 
 " Yes, she has ; but not before I was assured myself of 
 your feelings toward me." 
 
 " Then, cousin, I must have been incautious — too much 
 so." 
 
 "Oh, no," he pleasantly replied, as he playfully patted 
 her on the cheek ; " it was a fair game between us, and 
 
196 BLOOM AND BRIER. 
 
 why not you receive the arrow of the rosy god as soon as 
 I ? But let me say on. With all this levity, my feelings 
 have been undivided in their devotion, and my purpose 
 resolute; and there is nothing now can make me yield. 
 It therefore appears to me, that if your* are as unqualified, 
 there is no opposition on earth that will prevent you from 
 promising to be mine." 
 
 These last words brought a chill to Laura's heart, as, 
 in the whole course of her life, she had never contemplated 
 an act of wilful disobedience to her parents ; on the con- 
 trary, both as a matter of religious duty and of social habit 
 and training, she thought it even wrong to consider its pos- 
 sibility. 
 
 Looking him calmly in the face, as he concluded his 
 words, she said to him : 
 
 " Cousin, you should not make such an insinuation, after 
 what I have said to you. The promises, too, are to honor 
 and obedience ; and if you will allow me to claim a proper 
 delicacy, I will say that I have given you every evidence 
 of no ordinary feeling ; and as you have been so plain in 
 the expression of your own, I will do the same, and re- 
 assure you, that neither as girl or woman has any other 
 name than yours cast the faintest shadow on my life ; 
 and now, whether right or wrong, for grief or gladness, I 
 tell you, if ever one heart was entirely anothar's, Laura 
 Brandon's belongs to you — how, or why, or when, I scarce 
 can tell, yet it is as I have said ; " then, stepping a little 
 to his front, with an expression of truth and purity and 
 innocence in her eye, never to be forgotten any more than 
 heaven's own bright stars shall cease to float in beauty 
 upon the azure sky, she continued : " And, cousin, hav- 
 ing gone so far as I have, let me all unveil to you the 
 workings of my bosom. You may treat the treasure as 
 you will ; but this heart which I have this day given to 
 you, can never be another's. Yet, my hand may never be 
 
B L () () M A N 1) h H I E R . 1 97 
 
 yours more tlian as I give it now. Will you receive it as 
 i give it ? " 
 
 Henry took the proffered hand, and affectionately sealed 
 it with a kiss of love and truth that time never cancelled 
 from his memory. 
 
 During this conversation, they had been entirely out of 
 view from those who had left the house with them, and 
 as Laura made her last remark, she proposed returning. 
 Henry offered her his arm, and they began slowly to retrace 
 their steps, talking more calmly of the subject which now 
 engrossed their thoughts. 
 
 *' Laura, this evening's scenes can never be erased from 
 the history of our lives, and yet they scarcely bring that 
 joy which they should." 
 
 " That they may not now, cousin, yet we will hope for 
 more brightness in the future." 
 
 " What course must I adopt — speak to uncle Robert ? " 
 
 "No; I prefer not at present: just let the matter go 
 along for a while, and perhaps the prospect will grow more 
 promising. I have not the courage to let it be mentioned 
 just now." 
 
 " Why ? it can only still be opposed." 
 
 "I know; but even that seems, if openly done, to be 
 more than I can bear, as mother and father have yet to 
 oppose me in the first wish of my heart, so far as I can 
 remember." 
 
 "Why do you think, then, they will oppose you now?" 
 
 " For several reasons — first, I have often heard mother 
 express her disapproval of the marriage of cousins; and 
 then, they will be apt to think you too young and unsettled 
 in your notions ; again, that our attachment is too recent 
 to be lasting ; and quite as much as all, cousin, they, in. 
 common with many others, think you wild, reckless, and 
 high-tempered." 
 
 " But you do not regard these things ? " 
 17* 
 
198 BLOOM AND BRIER. 
 
 "No; else why should I have said what I have, and 
 received your caresses ? " 
 
 " Well, well, Laura ; we can at least be old-fashioned 
 sweethearts for a while longer ; so let me fancy that I have 
 turned back on our young school-days, and do, as I used 
 often to do, as we parted in the evening," and suiting the 
 action to the word, kissed her smiling rosy lips; and the 
 woman yielded with the confidence and sweet innocence of 
 the girl. 
 
 They had now recovered from all excitement, and ap- 
 peared as happy and guileless as, indeed, they ever had in 
 their school-days. About to come again in sight of the 
 house, Henry observed that Laura's hair was a little dis- 
 placed, and said, " Stop, stop, Laura ; this beautiful hair of 
 yours has fallen down ; let me act as coiffeur de cheveux." 
 
 " Cousin, your French is abominable ; t)ut I will let you 
 adjust my hair, as that is what I suppose you mean." 
 
 Henry laughed heartily at his French, and said: "Yes, 
 yes, that is what I mean ; for whether my French is good 
 or bad, those impudent girls would, as soon as not, accuse 
 you of having had my arm around you, which you know 
 is not so — is it ? " 
 
 The happy girl looked him innocently in the face as he 
 replaced her hair, and said : 
 
 " I can scarcely say, cousin, what has happened within 
 the last half-hour ; it looks like a dream of joy, that I 
 almost fear to ask, lest in asking, I may find it fled." 
 
 " Oh, no, Laura ; we will have it more than a dream." 
 
 They now walked on to the house, where Hunter and 
 Campbell, with the two other girls, stood waiting for them. 
 
 " Where have you two been, and what have you found 
 to talk about?" said Violet, as they came up. 
 
 " Our beaux gave out half an hour since, both in strength 
 and conversation, and we were forced to return in pure 
 self-defence," added Lucy. 
 
BLOOM AND B R I P: R . 199 
 
 " Oh, pshaw ! you, nor your beaux either, have any of the 
 divine afflatus." 
 
 *' But do tell us, Laura, wliat this bri;^ht genius of a 
 brother of mine has found to entertain you with,'' her eye 
 twinkling with fun as she spoke. " Has he been telling 
 you of some of his glowing visions of future glory and 
 greatness, which are to begin on the first day that he opens 
 * Blackstone,' I believe he calls it — if that ever comes — 
 which I begin to doubt. Or has he been enlarging on the 
 beauties of Miss Gray ; or has he been indulging in a little 
 sentiment, with your own sweet self for the subject? Come, 
 tell us, for I know there is a tale to unfold, or has been 
 unfolded." 
 
 Laura reddened up at the last words of Violet, but before 
 she could reply, Henry came to her assistance : 
 
 "Ah! most cruel sister, since we have found you out in 
 your sentimentalities, you wish to avenge it after the fashion 
 of the fox who was caught in the steel-trap; nevertheless, 
 I'll answer for Laura. Yes, I have been making up a small 
 love-story for some time past, and this evening rehearsed 
 a few of the chapters — any objection?" 
 
 At this bold stroke to ward off suspicion, Laura colored 
 so deeply as to occasion Henry to add, " Come, Laura, if 
 you blush so, these impudent people w^ill thin^, indeed, that 
 I have been making love to you, and that you accepted 
 me." He then quickly added, by way of changing the 
 subject — "Come, it is quite cool for thinly dressed young 
 ladies — let us go in the house and finish the examination." 
 
 There was a small fire burning. The lamps were soon 
 brought in, and the remainder of the evening was passed 
 most delightfully to them all, in music, dancing, etc., and 
 perhaps, a little more love-making. 
 
200 BLOOM AND BRIER. 
 
 CHAPTER XXX. 
 
 " Lay not that flattering unction to your soul." 
 
 IN November of this year the Presidential election was 
 over, and the great quadrennial excitement of the 
 American Republic had again subsided into quiet. The 
 people were once more pursuing, with their usual peace- 
 fulness and energy, the various occupations of life, while 
 all parties had equally submitted to the decisfon of the 
 ballot-box. There was but a grim resignation on the part 
 of the Whig3. Their great leader had again been defeated, 
 and with his fall fell the last remnant of political decency 
 and intelligence that had remained to the republican United 
 States. Every intelligent Whig felt and knew that jBnal 
 oblivion was to overtake many long-cherished principles 
 and the general conservative policy of their party, which 
 had ever exerted its strength in the effort to influence the 
 administration of the Government. It was now universally 
 conceded by its friends that its power and tone was forever 
 gone, and that the destinies of the Government were 
 completely in the hands of the wild, reckless multitude, 
 which was led by men as wild, reckless, and wellnigh as 
 poorly informed as themselves, and far more corrupt. To 
 hold power, however unworthily, and however unworthily 
 obtained, appeared to be the leading idea with the best of 
 them. The canvass against Mr. Clay thoroughly repre- 
 sented the character of the Democratic party of that day, 
 marked as it was by all manner of reckless and unscru- 
 pulous assertions touching every act of his public life, and 
 in many matters, of his private life. 
 
 Discussions of measures with which he was identified 
 were not conducted with a view to developing truth, but 
 
BLOOM AND BRIER. 201 
 
 uith a predetermined purpose of suppressing it, and of 
 exciting the prejudices of the masses against him. 
 
 Their favorite charge against the Whig party, and a 
 very eflective one, too, before the masses, was that of its 
 Federalism. Tiie charge itself was not discussed as a 
 question, but advanced as a loathsome stigma ; and while 
 it answered every purpose of exciting the prejudices of the 
 people, was as little comprehended by them as by the wild 
 Bedouins of the desert. 
 
 The charge itself was true, in contradistinction to the 
 absurd, double- back -action theories of the State -Rights 
 school, which had naturally grown out of that idea com- 
 mon to all republican governments, that central authority 
 is necessarily despotic ; and from that other, too, which 
 had taken such strong root in this country, of the people 
 being capable of se/f-government. These social and polit- 
 ical fallacies, dangerous to the order and peace of society 
 even with a limited application, had been first suggested 
 by Mr. Jefferson, afterward assuming shape in the Resolu- 
 tions '98 - '99, and then carried to the cxtreraest abuse by 
 the statesmen (?) of South Carolina. They were, howfever, 
 very flattering to the vanity of the people, who responded 
 by keeping those in power who advocated them. 
 
 Now, in 1869, behold the wisdom of the idea! Come 
 and look in upon us, all ye outside world, and, in the 
 wretchedness, poverty, humiliations and degradations of 
 the brave-hearted but misguided South, see the capacity 
 of men for self-government! Look at the almost open 
 corruption in high places, and view for yourselves this 
 tremendous capacity ! 
 
 Every government should have the unqualified power 
 to rule all its parts, but running parallel with it should be 
 the obligation to protect them. Every other is only an 
 absurdity, and a premium to revolution. 
 
 The theory of self-government does very well for the 
 
202 BLOOM AXD BRIER. 
 
 majority ; but woe be unto the minority ! In the case of 
 the United States, the North was largely the majority sec- 
 tion ; and while it had committed every conceivable polit- 
 ical excess, and every possible trespass upon the social 
 sentiments and domestic and political rights of the South, 
 under the cover of State rights and the right of self-gov- 
 ernment, there was no power adequate to its punishment. 
 But when the feeble South, with every equity on its side, 
 attempted to redress itself by a sort of negative movement 
 only, this same imperious horde, from brothel to sanctuary, 
 rolled up the whites of its eyes in patriotic horror for the 
 violence done the ''flag" 
 
 Right for the nonce, say we, was this self-governing ma- 
 jority, if only by accident, or from hate; and had its char- 
 acter been equal to the cause, the South would indeed have 
 been crushed back to its place " in ninety days," and hav- 
 ing done that, might have corrected all the complained-of 
 evils. But, out upon ye, ye great self-governing majority ! 
 Shame upon the chivalry that required a world of numbers 
 four years to assert itself against a handful ! 
 
 Henry Brandon had previously resolved not to begin his 
 law reading until after the great election was over with, 
 and all its excitement had died away. His appointed time 
 
 for doing so had now come, and he was on his way to , 
 
 for the purpose of seeing Judge Lorn, with a view to read- 
 ing in his office. Judge Lorn was an old family friend, 
 and a gentleman almost as greatly distinguished for his 
 eccentricities as for his classical, literary, and legal attain- 
 ments, and was at this time in full practice. 
 
 As Henry entered his office, the Judge, rather more than 
 was usual for him to do, rose and met him cordially. After 
 some general conversation, young Brandon spoke to him in 
 regard to his purpose in calling. The excellent old gen- 
 tleman told him that his uncle had already spoken to him 
 in regard to it, " and I have told him that I would take 
 
BI.OOM AND BRIER. 203 
 
 much pleasure in having you for a student, and was ready 
 to receive you whenever you saw proper to come." 
 
 Henry said to him that he would be ready the next 
 morning. 
 
 " The sooner the better, in such cases, Brandon." 
 
 Young Brandon made his arrangements during the day 
 for coming to the city, and returned to his mother's that 
 night with a view to a final departure — which he did the 
 next morning, never to return again as a regufar member 
 of her fiimily. 
 
 Going back again to the city, he completed his arrange- 
 ments, and reported at Judge Lorn's office. The Judge 
 asked him in a few moments, if he desired to go through 
 only a short course of reading preparatory to entering the 
 practice, or did he wish to pursue the study as a science, 
 from which all principles for the regulation of society and 
 the direction of government emanated. 
 
 Brandon replied, that he did not desire to enter upon 
 the practice very soon, and would therefore prefer a more 
 liberal course. 
 
 "I am glad," said the Judge, " to hear you say that, as 
 it is the first time in years I have heard of any such wish. 
 Most young men that have been with me for several years 
 past, seemed anxious for the small practice." He continued 
 his conversation by saying that " most students begin the 
 study with the commentaries of Blackstone, which, though 
 the very best compendium of the English law% are yet but 
 a compendium, and argue quite an advanced intimacy with 
 the history of England and of Europe, which very few 
 young men have in this country ; an uninformed student, 
 therefore, loses much of their real value. For that reason 
 I would advise the laying of a good historical foundation, 
 before entering upon Blackstone, or any of the short-cut 
 text-books." 
 
 Beginning to rather regret his temerity in saying to the 
 
204 BLOOM AND BRIER. 
 
 Judge tliat he preferred a liberal course, he rather cautiously 
 asked him — 
 
 " What work would you recommend, Judge, that I should 
 begin with ? " 
 
 "I would propose Robertson's Charles the Fifth, as one 
 of the chastest and most elegant of English authors ; and 
 his history of Charles embraces one of the most important 
 periods in European history." 
 
 " Yes, sir ; but I have read that, partly in connection 
 with the historical course at college." 
 
 " So much the better ; you will now read it the more in- 
 telligently, and with greater pleasure, as *I dare say you 
 were not very critical in your reading of it, at that time." 
 
 " Yes, sir ; I gave it a very thorough reading, and still 
 appreciate it as one of the finest works in the whole roll 
 of history. The language is clear, elegant, and strong, with- 
 out any affectation whatever; and presents among other 
 things the most intelligible view of the feudal law, and the 
 progress of society from the period of the Roman power, 
 up to the time of Charles — that I know." 
 
 Henry Brandon said all this to convince the Judge that 
 he had read the work, as he was trembling at the probable 
 length of the course v.hich he would suggest ; acknowledg- 
 ing to himself that he did not entertain those lofty views 
 of the profession which the Judge had given him credit fon 
 
 " Yes ; I see that you appear to have read it with some 
 care, which very few have. Excuse me for asking you a 
 little historical question, Mr. Brandon." 
 
 " Certainly, sir." 
 
 " Will you tell me what occasion, or events, gave rise to 
 the original theory of a ' balance of power,' as it is yet 
 called in European diplomacy ? " 
 
 " You will find it spoken of in Robertson's dissertation on 
 the progress of society ; and the immediate occasion of the 
 idea was the invasion of the Italian States by Charles VIII. 
 
BLOOM AND BKIER. 205 
 
 of France, when the Italian princes confederated for the 
 purpose of expelling him from their territories. After- 
 ward, in the course of the wars of Charles V., the plan of 
 the Italian kings grew into a system." 
 
 " I am glad, indeed, to find that you have read this great 
 writer so carefully — he is a favorite author with me. I 
 have found few young men, in an experience of forty years, 
 who knew anything of him, and I remember none who 
 could have answered the question I asked you. I will, 
 therefore, suggest, that you begin with ' Malthus on Popu- 
 lation.' " 
 
 " What, Judge ? " said Henry, both astonished and tre- 
 pidated to the ends of his toes, at the extent and antedi- 
 luvian course which the Judge was prescribing for him — 
 " 'Malthus on Population?' " 
 
 "Yes ; 'Malthus on Population,'" said the Judge, very 
 exultingly, as he supposed that young Brandon knew about 
 as much of Malthus as he did of the Koran, or the 
 Talmud. " Have you ever read him? " 
 
 " No, I can't say that I have ; yet, I have a very good 
 idea of his theory, which is now treated as entirely obsolete 
 — is it not?" 
 
 " Obsolete, indeed ! No ; it is as true as any mathe- 
 matical demonstration, or axiom in philosophy." 
 
 " Then, Judge, you must think the Creator made a mis- 
 take, when fashioning man and the earth." 
 
 The Judge, a little nettled at the remark, replied : 
 
 " No, I do not ; does n't the Bible speak of the end of 
 the earth ? " 
 
 " Yes, I believe it does ; though I must confess to have 
 read that too little ; but I suppose, by that, and by Malthus, 
 the end can be calculated ? " 
 
 " No, I can't see the exact rationale of your words." 
 
 "Why, Malthus argues and demonstrates in his way, 
 that the natural tendency of population is to too great 
 18 
 
206 BLOOM AND BRIER. 
 
 redundancy for the capacity of the earth in its support ; 
 and the necessary conclusion is, that at a certain point the 
 human race, or the earth, or both, must or will give way, 
 and this period we can easily arrive at by arithmetical 
 calculation, taking the present population and its increase 
 for a given time, and the arable area of the earth for 
 data." 
 
 "Ah, but you^make no allowance for 'wars, pestilence, 
 and famine,' and the tides of emigration, etc." 
 
 Henry Brandon came nigh bursting out in laughter, as 
 he now saw an instance of that eccentricity of the Judge 
 for which he was so noted. But the Judge himself preserved 
 the most dignified gravity, while Henry Brandon replied : 
 
 " Why, sir, the modern theory is all but the reverse of 
 Malthus's, and rather borders on the idea that the denser 
 the population the better the human family is supported, 
 provided industry and intelligence keep pace with the 
 increase." 
 
 " Mistake," dryly said the Judge. "My observation and 
 experience are just to the contrary." 
 
 The sun was now setting, and Henry rose as if to leave, 
 when the Judge said : 
 
 " Well, Brandon, if I don't get you along faster than I 
 have this evening, the earth will be likely to collapse before 
 you get to the Bar, even beginning with Blackstone ; and 
 as it is too late to begin this evening, suppose we commence 
 with Blackstone in the morning, according to the custom 
 of these degenerate days." 
 
 The following morning, according to appointment, Henry 
 met the Judge at his office, and not many minutes trans- 
 pired before he was installed as a law student of Judge 
 Lorn. 
 
 He fell very easily into the old harness of study, and all 
 his levity at once left him. Indeed, levity was but the 
 feather to the arrow — more an assumption than an organic 
 
BLOOM AND BRIER. 207 
 
 feature of character. Levity, in perrions of intellect, is 
 often but an exaggeration of health and animal spirits. 
 Such persons, too, almost universally possess more of the 
 finer sympathies and higher attributes than those' who 
 frown upon them. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXI. 
 
 "All wanton as a child, skipping and vain." 
 
 YOUNG Brandon had now been in the office of Judge 
 Lorn nearly two weeks, and had found his time so 
 agreeably taken up in conversing with him, and in his new 
 study, that he appeared to have but little time or desire to 
 visit the country, and was very constantly to be found in 
 his place. His mother and sister had been to the city, and 
 he had promised them to go out, but had not yet done so. 
 His cousins he had not seen ; but Mr. Robert Brandon had 
 that morning been to the city, and calling upon him, found 
 him at his books. Expressing much pleasure at seeing him 
 so studious, Henry replied : 
 
 " Why, uncle, that is nothing n^w for me, as you cer- 
 tainly know; but I believe many of my old friends are 
 quite astonished that I am not found spending all my time 
 in the gambling and drinking saloons." 
 
 " Oh, no, Henry ; you are quite mistaken in regard to 
 your friends : they are only pleased to find you so diflferent 
 from most young men of the day who have fortunes." 
 
 '* Well, uncle, that is some better than I have had reason 
 to suspect. I fear, though, I have but an indifferent repu- 
 tation for steadiness, even with my*nighest friends." 
 
 " I hope you labor under an entire misapprehension, 
 Henry, /at least do not injure you by such a thought." 
 
 " I really thank you for what you say ; though I must 
 
208 BLOOM AND BPwIER. 
 
 tell you in advance that I cannot say what the reason is. 
 I hope you will excuse me for speaking as I have." And 
 then, by way of changing the subject rather than in any 
 particular relevance, he said : " Oh, uncle, though I have 
 b5en quite busy at my law-reading, I have found the time to 
 read Bulwer's novel, * The Last of the Barons ; ' one that I 
 like quite as well, if not better, than any I have ever read of 
 his, which I will send out to the girls. After they read it, 
 they can send it over to mother and Violet." 
 
 " Yes, I have seen some notices of it, and should think 
 it very fine. The period and the events possess great 
 charms even in the dull narration of history. Hume, how- 
 ever, throws around them all tlie brightness of romance." 
 
 "Yes, it is quite as interesting as you may suppose. 
 Will you call for it this evening ? " 
 
 " Ye«5, if you haven't it here." 
 
 "No ; it is at my room. I will have it here against the 
 time you are ready to leave." 
 
 Mr. Brandon called that evening, as he was in his car- 
 riage to go home, and Henry handed him the book, neatly 
 wrapped up and tied. AVhile riding, Mr. Brandon, sup- 
 posing it not improper, thought to secure the only oppor- 
 tunity he was likely to have of looking over it ; opened the 
 wrapper, and Avas hastily perusing it, when a neatly folded 
 and well-filled letter, directed to Laura, dropped from its 
 leaves. Picking it up, and looking at it in silence for a 
 minute or two, he slowly replaced it, and, wrapping up the 
 book, sat as if in deep thought the remainder of the way 
 home. He was now satisfied in his own mind that the 
 suspicions of his wife, in regard to an attachment between 
 Henry and Laura, really existed. What course to pursue, 
 knowing her unrelenting opposition to such a marriage, 
 was now a new source of anxiety. 
 
 The carriage at length driving up to his own gate, and 
 the meeting with his daughters, who had come out for that 
 
BLOOM A N I) B R I K U . 209 
 
 purpose, wearing joyous and welcoming faces, at once 
 seemed to dispel all previous and further thought. 
 
 After answeriug such general inquiries about friends 
 and affairs in the city as may easily be conjectured, he 
 handed Laura the book which Henry had sent her, but 
 telling her it was for them both, he believed, and afterward 
 for Violet. 
 
 " How is our young lawyer? I begin to wish to see the 
 gay fellow^" asked Lucy. 
 
 " He is well, and studying very closely ; and told me to 
 say to you that he would not be out to the country for a 
 week or two longer. I did not ask him to come earlier, as 
 I dislike to disturb any one in well-doing." 
 
 These simple remarks were the source of much pleasure 
 to Laura, who now watched both every favorable and un- 
 favorable word that was spoken in connection with Henry, 
 by either of her parents. 
 
 "Father," said Laura, "since Lucy appears over -bash- 
 ful to ask after Mr. Campbell, let me do so ; did you see 
 the young gentleman?" 
 
 " Oh, yes ; I saw him — was in his office — he is well, and 
 sends his regards." 
 
 " We are obliged to him," she replied ; and left for her 
 own room, for the purpose of opening the package, confi- 
 dently expecting to find a note from Henry enclosed. 
 Shutting the door as she entered, and seating herself near 
 the window, she proceeded to open it — glancing only a 
 moment at the title of the book — at once held it up and 
 shook the leaves, when out dropped the expected note. A 
 second scarcely elapsed before she had it open, and was all 
 insensible to everything else but its contents. 
 
 She had read and re-read it, and was still straining her 
 eyes by the twilight in again reading it, when Lucy entered. 
 
 " Why on earth have you not lighted your lamp, 
 Laura?" 
 18* 
 
210 BLOOM AXD BRIER. 
 
 " I could not take the time Lucy ; here is the most beau- 
 tiful note you ever read." 
 
 " I should think so, from its so engrossing your attention 
 as to prevent your thinking of a light." 
 
 " Oh ! there is as much light in this, as in a world of 
 lamps." 
 
 " Indeed ! Well, suppose you let me have the advantage 
 of it, to assist me through this darkness." 
 
 *' Yes, I Tvill ; after sufficiently feasting my own eyes." 
 
 " Why, Laura, I believe you will lose your senses over 
 cousin Henry yet." 
 
 "No, not if they will let me have my way." 
 
 " I suppose you will though, if you do not get it, just out 
 of spite?" 
 
 " I fear so, most truly ; but not out of spite. Now, just 
 read it, Lucy, and say if I am not right," at the same time 
 handing Lucy the note, who by this time had set a lamp 
 upon the table. It ran as follows : 
 
 Room Xo. 37, December Ist. 
 
 "Dear Laura, — I have forced the great 'king-maker' 
 of Edward's reign, from his high estate of arbiter between 
 royal lines, into the more beautiful, if not more magnifi- 
 cent service of Love ; and from being the bearer of Eng- 
 land's crown from one royal head to another, I make him 
 the bearer of a missive from one heart to another, as big 
 with the fate of individuals as ever was his lordly will 
 with the fate of kingdoms. And if he cannot help me win a 
 woman's hand, and place a Laural (what an effort) wreath 
 upon my brow, I will endeavor to tear that one from his 
 own brow, which history has so honorably placed there, and 
 in its stead hang a cypress wreath. With the threat of so 
 dire a caiamity,.I am satisfied that the 'last of the barons' 
 will execute his present trust most faithfully, and bear in 
 most diplomatic style this missive to the bower of Love — 
 to my sweet Laura Brandon. Enough of exordium, say 
 you, and'so say I; and for your pleasure as well as my own, 
 let me ' wreak upon expression ' something of my heart's 
 deep love, and joy, and hope. 
 
BLOOM AND BRIER. 211 
 
 " When I left the beautiful prairies, it was really a source 
 of apprehension, that I should be found retracing my steps 
 thitherward, at least as early as the third day ; if not in 
 my waking-liours, at least in some somnambulic excursion, 
 to the presence of my lady-love, where I might soothe the 
 throbbings of my breast in the pure Dianic fountains that 
 rise in hers. During the passing of the said three days, the 
 trial to my nervous system was terrible indeed ; but thanks 
 to a finely supplied ' table dliote' and perhaps, too, to the 
 presence of a very pretty girl who has sat opposite to me 
 for several days — between whom and myself there have been 
 some sly glances thrown — I have been able to survive not 
 only the three days', but near three weeks' absence, from the 
 light of your eyes. In regard to the said young lady, and the 
 sly glances cast, I will say, that her striking resemblance 
 to yourself was the secret of my pleasure; so let me beg 
 you to be calm. Nonsense. Well, by this, or by that, or 
 by nothing, finding that my amorial fortitude has enabled 
 rae to stand up against all temptation for this near three 
 weeks, I have resolved to put it to the test, for another like 
 period of self-torture. 
 
 " But, really, let me come down from this sort of love- 
 scraping, to this real world of ours, in which you wonder 
 why it is that I have not allowed myself the pleasure of 
 basking in the sunny light of your lovely smiles. There it 
 is again ! I meant, allowed myself the pleasure of visiting 
 the country, and why it is that I have resolved on a fur- 
 ther penance of absence. Of course, I must answer the 
 supposed question, even before I ask why it is that you 
 have remained away so long from this great metropolis, 
 whose presence here I have been as anxiously expecting as 
 you have mine in the ruralities of * Starlight.' Well, first, 
 I have been right down at my books — book, rather — in 
 despite of all the tempt:^tions of the Evil One and Cupid 
 too. All of which, both study and temptation, come quite 
 natural — often dreaming, however, that I am thus pre- 
 paring a higher worthiness for the sweetest girl I ever 
 knew. 
 
 " But in real good earnest, my dear Laura, I have even 
 been more than anxious to see you. Thousands of things 
 a day suggest themselves which I wish to say to you, and 
 Bometimes can scarce resist the inclination to order * Sam * 
 
212 BLOOM AND BRIE 11. 
 
 to bring me my horse, and fly to your presence; but 
 then I haven't, ha! ha! But, truly, I have sometimes 
 feared that my absence would make you sing, in your pen- 
 sive hours, that ' Absence conquers love ; ' but right away 
 my heart would answer with the refrain, * But oh, believe 
 it not ! ' and at once check the apprehension that had tried 
 to rise, and in a moment more would feel that the heart of 
 Laura Brandon could cherish no fear of him who had 
 loved her from his youth, and now loves her in every hour 
 of his manhood. 
 
 " Yes, Laura, the little clouds that throw their shadows 
 on our hopes, only make you more lovely to my eye, and 
 dearer, too, to my heart, than if the heavens were all blue, 
 and the stars all bright, and every meteor, that speeds its 
 trackless flight on the bosom of the night, were a sparkling 
 promise and a spangling joy. Bravo ! How do you like 
 my love asseveration ? Every word true, I do assure you ; 
 but not half the truth. In full accordance with which, 
 I am on my very best behavior ; indeed, I am quite senti- 
 mental in the performance of this role — and all to please 
 the good master and mistress of ' Starlight,' with a slight 
 credit to your claim. Oh, that these aforesaid good people 
 could only see the workings and good intentions that move 
 and burn in my anxious breast ! They would clasp me to 
 their bosoms forever. At least let me clasp my own sweet 
 girl to mine. Yes, my heart is this moment filled with 
 good intentions — not such as they say hell is paved with, 
 but with the real New Jerusalem sort, and verily believe 
 that I would almost do anything for this desired result, 
 except turn ' Methodist circuit-rider.' That Avould be too 
 much for my frail humanity, unless their people would^^az/ 
 them better. How does Lucy act her part of friend ? Tell 
 her that, if she doesn't give you all the benefit of her 
 sense, courage, persuasiveness, and beauty, I will haunt 
 Campbell and her after I am dead, and bring bad luck on 
 them forever — that there is enough of the true wizard 
 about me to do this, if not enough to bring good fortune 
 to myself. 
 
 " But you are too good, and true, and sweet a girl to write 
 such nonsense to, so I shall inflict no more of it upon you, 
 but promise to be very serious the next letter I write to 
 you. Write to me by some chance or other. In the mean- 
 
B L () O M AND B lU E R . 213 
 
 while I shall watch every breeze and every bird that floats 
 this way, and expect the one to breathe to my listening 
 ear some low, soft note of hope, or the warbling music of 
 the other — some song of joy and love as it was sung from 
 the coral lips of my lady-love. Will this do for my first 
 real /ore-letter? I might do better, if I could further pro- 
 ceed ; but uncle is to call, and I write in a hurry, if I 
 have written long. Let me hear from you, in some way, 
 very soon. 
 
 " Very affectionately, Hexry B." 
 
 Lucy appeared quite as much pleased and amused at 
 the odd mixture of fun and sentiment in the letter, and 
 handed it back, hiughingly, to Laura. It was, indeed, her 
 first " real love-letter " from Henry, and she looked it over 
 and thought of it with the transport of delight. At length, 
 overcome by her feelings, she fell upon her sister's neck, 
 and sobbing, said : 
 
 " Oh ! Lucy, Lucy ! my heart will break at this ! Is it 
 not better that I should tell it all, at once, to mother, and 
 be over with this terrible anxiety and suspense ? " 
 
 " Oh, be quiet, Laura," answered Lucy ; " matters may 
 not be as bad as you think ; and in a few days you will be 
 calmer, too." 
 
 At this moment a servant announced tea, and in a few 
 minutes more the two sisters walked into the supper-room 
 together. Mr. Brandon saw that Laura appeared agitated, 
 but said nothing, as he knew the cause. 
 
214 BLOOM AND BRIER, 
 
 CHAPTER XXXII. 
 
 "'Tis an old tale, and often told." 
 
 HEXRY BRANDON continued in his whimsical resolu- 
 tion of remaining two or three weeks longer in the 
 city, where between reading " Blackstone," and crotchety 
 but pleasant disputation with Judge Lorn on every con- 
 ceivable subject, whenever the Judge was at sufficient leis- 
 ure, the time was passing rapidly away. 
 
 The Saturday following after his sending the book to 
 Laura, Camj^bell informed him that he intended that day 
 visiting the country, and asked him if he would accompany 
 him. Brandon told him that his appointed time for visit- 
 ing the prairies had not yet come ; but would thank him to 
 take a note for him, asking him if he would deliver it ac- 
 cording to direction — in person. 
 
 " Oh, certainly ; I comprehend," said he, laughing, " and 
 shall play confidential messenger with the most approved 
 caution." 
 
 Leaving the office, he promised to return as he left town. 
 Brandon merely wrote a short note on a card, and enclos- 
 ing it, waited for the return of Campbell. 
 
 Early in the afternoon he came by, and Brandon, hand- 
 ing him the note, asked him to speak to his mother and 
 Violet at church the next day ; and if the girls should go 
 there to dine, to go with them. 
 
 " Yes ; thank you. I shall certainly speak to Mrs. 
 Brandon and your sister, and probably will dine there." 
 
 As Campbell rode ofl^, Brandon followed him with his 
 eyes as long as he remained in view, and could but sigh for 
 the difference in their feelings and their prospects. 
 
 Campbell had already seen Mr. Robert Brandon, and 
 
KLOOM AND BRIER. 215 
 
 asked permission to address his daughter, to which the 
 latter had given his consent, with only the proviso, that his 
 personal influence must not be expected ; but that any 
 course his daughter might see proper to adopt, would meet 
 his approbation. 
 
 This was all that Campbell desired, as he had already 
 had some conversation with Lucy in regard to the subject, 
 and felt assured that it would all go as he wished. Having 
 seen more of the girls since the return of Henry Brandon 
 than before, and caught much of his ease of manner, he 
 had not only secured the affections of Lucv, but become 
 quite a flivorite with Henry Brandon and with Laura 
 
 Reaching "Starlight" before sunset, he was met at the 
 gate by a servant, who conducted him to the house • and 
 was there met by Mr. Brandon himself, wlio welcomed him 
 cordially. It was not long before the young ladies made 
 their appearance, who also seemed much pleased at his visit. 
 Mr. Brandon did not remain with them a great while, 
 uhich gave Campbell a good opportunitv to hand Laura 
 the note from Henry, as if but just to have remembered it. 
 Laura, judging from its size and appearance that it con- 
 tained nothing of moment, with apparent carelessness 
 opened it in his presence. 
 
 "Not a very long communication, Miss Brandon," said 
 Campbell, as he saw her twirling the card in her fin- 
 gers. "He might ev^ have trusted me with that much 
 verbally." ' 
 
 "Yes; it would not have burdened vour memorv verv 
 greatly." ' *^ '' 
 
 "Perhaps its point supplies its deficiency in quantity. 
 1 ou would scarcely risk the reading of it." 
 
 "Oh, yes; there is but little to risk; he says I must 
 write to him by you, and that we must all dine with Violet 
 to-morrow." 
 
 "CHirt, indeed; I think you had better return it to the 
 
216 BLOOM AND BRIER. 
 
 young gentleman by me, as its. own best answer," at the 
 same time reaching out his hand as if to receive it. 
 
 " Oh, no," said she, blushing, and rising at the same 
 time. " I will just leave you two alone, that you may pave 
 the way to the preparation of longer ones," and laughing, 
 moved to leave the room. 
 
 " Why, Laura, you certainly do not intend to leave Mr. 
 Campbell and me in this great room to ourselves, and at 
 this strange weird time. Twilight and midnight are the 
 favorite hours of the mystic world, and we may both get 
 terribly frightened." 
 
 " I would be pleased to have you remain. Miss Laura, 
 but you need not fear for the danger. I will engage to 
 defend us both against all comers and goers from the un- 
 seen world." 
 
 " Yes ; I shall risk you at all events." 
 
 Lucy was quite half in earnest when she said they would 
 get frightened ; at least, it was certainly true of herself, she 
 having reason to believe that Campbell intended formally 
 addressing her, on the first suitable occasion, which Laura's 
 absence would now furnish — indeed, it appearing to be 
 an invitation for him to do so. Lucy saw and felt this, 
 and instantly rose as if to object to her sister leaving ; but 
 Laura saw that it was perhaps the desire of Campbell that 
 she should, and, still laughing, left the room, saying that 
 she would be absent but a short while. Lucy now re- 
 sumed her chair, which Campbell also did, after drawing 
 his own nearer to hers. For a few seconds, he appeared 
 about as awkward, as she seemed confused. Both felt that 
 the time had very unexpectedly come, when their relations 
 were to be permanently changed, and both trembled with 
 excitement. 
 
 Lucy, how^ever, first had the courage to break silence, 
 by humorously asking him if he had begun to feel a little 
 frightened. 
 
BLOOM AND BRIER. 217 
 
 " Yes, miss, a little agitated." 
 
 " Why, sir, do you see or hear anything to alarm you?" 
 
 *' I more fear that I shall, than that I now do hear some- 
 thing to frighten me ; and I certainly do see something 
 that a little agitates me, even while it charms me, and 
 would give anything in my power for only one half-hour 
 of Henry Brandon's ease of speech, that I might describe 
 it." 
 
 " He certainly excels in that ; and as I am his kins- 
 woman, I may have some of his same facility, and assist 
 you, if it is of difficult utterance." 
 
 This last remark Lucy had unguardedly made, and 
 quickly seeing the use to be made of it, suddenly rose, as 
 if a little frightened, and said: 
 
 "There! Mr. Campbell ; did you not hear some strange 
 sound ? " but had not executed her ruse, before Campbell 
 rose, and, catching her hand, asked that he might be her 
 defender. Lucy now saw that she was detected in the 
 device, and both laughed, as Campbell reseated her, he 
 saying: "But now I claim the proffered offer of assistance 
 to my speech, as recompense for my protection." 
 
 " Proceed, Mr. Campbell," said she, with an effort at 
 appearing indifferent; "I may assist you at the crisis of 
 your need." 
 
 Campbell seeing at once that she was really more agi- 
 tated than himself, did not feel repulsed by the reply, and 
 only said in answer : " That is all that I can a^sk. Miss 
 Lucy." 
 
 " 'Tis this rose you saw, or see, Mr. Campbell — mayhap 
 a mere conceit," said she, going back on the conversation, 
 and scarce knowing what she did say. 
 
 " It may have been, or be," he said, as he playfully took 
 her hand ; " but whatever the beautiful thing may be, will 
 you permit me to claim an interest in its loveliness?" 
 
 Looking sweetly in his face, she smilingly replied; 
 19 
 
218 BLOOM AND BRIER. 
 
 "If 1 have the right Avhich you imply, it would be un- 
 generous to refuse, after so pretty a petition." 
 
 She had not more than spoken the words, before he raised 
 her hand to his lips. 
 
 Tea was announced, and they walked out pleasantly and 
 happily together. Laura met them with a smile as they 
 entered, feeling perhaps quite as haj)py as themselves, 
 having been writing to Henry Brandon; and the mere 
 fact of having been giving expression to her feelings, im- 
 parted the highest glow to her beautiful face, and a bril- 
 liant animation to her conversation. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIII. 
 
 "With a smile on her lip, and a tear in her eye." 
 
 THE next morning, the family of Mr. Brandon left for 
 church, at the usual hour. When they reached there, a 
 large part of the congregation had already arrived, and it 
 was not long before all had met and services were begun. 
 Mr. Jerome preached one of his very best sermons, so much 
 so, as to occasion it to be remarked. It was manly, replete 
 with Christian truth, and free from that complexion and 
 taint which has, for so many years, degraded the pulpit of 
 this country into little else than a mere vulgar hustings, 
 from the teachings of which congregations have gone to 
 their homes with the fury of devils burning in their hearts ; 
 and in which fact is to be traced one of the directest causes 
 of the late unholy W'ar. When women go beyond the domes- 
 tic circle, and ministers beyond the Bible, to exert their in- 
 fluence, society ever suffers ; and when these get to be reli- 
 gion, women should go barren, and churches to ashes. 
 
BLOOM AND B li I E R . 219 
 
 After the seniles were over — as was usual in the olden 
 time, when the white population was comparatively small, 
 and that, too, almost individually separated by large plan- 
 tations — the congregation lingered for some time while 
 exchanging salutations and other amenities peculiar to the 
 social relations of planter life. 
 
 As they were about separating, each asked the other 
 home to dine. Violet succeeded, however, in spite of other 
 refusals, in getting her peculiar circle of young friends to 
 accompany her. 
 
 The days were now getting short, and not much formal- 
 ity was observed. Dinner was found to be ready, on reach- 
 ing Mrs. Brandon's, and not very long in being ended. It 
 was no sooner over, than all the company met, in a free 
 and easy manner, in the parlor, and for the next hour or 
 so enjoyed themselves with great zest. As the conversation 
 crossed and re-crossed from one to the other, Laura Bran- 
 don remarked to Mr. Jerome, that it was profanely rumored 
 that probable contingencies would shortly render the pres- 
 ence of hco parsons necessary to the performance of parish 
 duties, and asked if he had heard anything of such reports. 
 
 "I can't say. Miss Laura," said Mr. Jerome, "that I 
 have ; but from what I saw one of the young ladies of the 
 congregation do to-day, I should think that one parson is 
 hardly sufficient to hold their attention. I think I saw 
 one of my fairest parishioners draw a watch upon my ser- 
 mon, as if in great impatience at its length." 
 
 "Ah! I plead guilty to that, Parson; but it was far 
 from a feeling of impatience that made me do it. I heard 
 you to-day with unusual interest. It was an idea — a 
 recollection, if you please — that came over me, and I did 
 look at the hour." 
 
 "Was it the right one?" 
 
 "Yes, sir; just about," said Laura, blushing, supposing 
 from the question that Mr. Jerome had somehow guessed 
 
220 BLOOM A>'D BRIER. 
 
 at the point ; " but after that, I did you all possible honor 
 in the stricter attention." 
 
 Standing near Violet at the time, she held the card from 
 Henry, concealed in her hand, that the latter might read it, 
 in which he had asked her to remember him at 12 o'clock, 
 and he would do the same by her. Violet comprehended 
 the whole matter at a glance, but said nothing. 
 
 The company were now in the act of leave-taking, when 
 Laura playfully insisted on Mr. Jerome telling her whether 
 there was any truth in the report of the two parsons being 
 necessary in the parish. 
 
 " I am afraid not, unless you in some wise contemplate 
 introducing another, of which, indeed, there is some little 
 said by those I know of." 
 
 " Come, Parson ; you say that in a bad spirit." 
 
 *' No, not by any means ; for there have been some very 
 pretty speculations in regard to yourself, and a certain 
 dashing young genius, who has lately reappeared among 
 us ; and who I regret not meeting with to-day, as I had 
 some very fine messages for him from old Mr. Thaxton, and 
 I must not omit to tell you too, what a friend he is of yours. 
 He thinks Henry Brandon the finest genius who has ap- 
 peared here for years, and Laura Brandon the finest girl 
 in the whole country." 
 
 "Yes; old Mr. Thaxton is a great friend of mine, I 
 know, and so am I of his — really have quite an admira- 
 tion for the old man. But never mind that just now. I 
 ^vant your confidence this evening, Parson. Kow, just tell 
 me in your most artless manner, whether etymological in- 
 structions to Miss Sally, in regard to the famous word 
 i^a7itL^co\ are having any good results." 
 
 "Ah! the time is too short now to enter upon that sub- 
 ject. Let me reserve the answer for some day when we 
 have more leisure — when, too, you may be better prepared 
 to throw some fresh light upon the ' law matrimonial,' in 
 
BLOOM AND BRIER. 221 
 
 which I suppose, you have quite an able instructor, and 
 of which I am anxious to learn something." 
 
 " Why, Parson, you are positively growing malignant." 
 While Laura was talking with Mr. Jerome, she was 
 watching a favorable opportunity to hand to Mr. Campbell 
 the letter which she had written to Henry Brandon, and 
 seeing it at this moment, she asked Mr. Jerome to excuse 
 her. Without being observed she handed it to him, and 
 saying only a word stepped back to the side of Mr. Jerome. 
 They soon separated after this, and were on their different 
 ways home. 
 
 So soon as Campbell reached the city, he sent Laura's 
 letter to Brandon's room. The latter spent the remainder 
 of the evening in reading and re-reading it. It ran as 
 follows: which, though reposed to our care, we hope, at thi^ 
 late day, is no violation of confidence to give to the reader. 
 
 " Starlight, Sth December. 
 
 " A contraband letter came into my possession some days 
 since, from my dear cousin Henry Brandon, which, it is 
 needless to assure him, is held as the dearest treasure I 
 possess. Its various evidences of true affection, its humor, 
 and its gay-heartedness, found either their response or ap- 
 preciation, in the bosom of his oivn affectionate Laura. 
 
 " When I first read it, I could but give way to a flood of 
 nervous tears ; but recovering then, I have felt calmer and 
 happier every time I have read it since, which if I con- 
 tinue to do, as often for the next few days as I have for the 
 past few, the power of numerals will be quite severely 
 taxed in their enumeration. This will appear extravagant, 
 but is nigher the truth than might be supposed ; but let 
 me beg you, my gay chevalier, not to let it make you vain 
 — only let it encourage you to write me more such, and 
 oftener. 
 
 "The few foregoing lines were all that I had written when 
 
 I was called to tea; since then, after remaining a short 
 
 while in the parlor, I have returned to my task of lovey 
 
 asking Mr. Campbell and Lucy to excuse me, which they 
 
 19* 
 
222 BLOOM AXD BEIER. 
 
 appeared to do very iciUiugly. But now that I have sat 
 down to this pleasing duty, 1 scarce know how to resume; 
 and certainly cannot see how I shall ever stop — quite a 
 dilemma to fall into, as the more I think, the still further 
 am I led to think — rather likening my situation to that 
 of the famous inexhaustion of the Avidow's cruse. 
 
 " Out of such abundance, you will very naturally think 
 that I might have written before — and so, indeed, t might 
 have, and greatly wished to; and you are therefore entitled 
 to an explanation. First, then, I did not suppose that you 
 would so persistently carry out your resolution of remain- 
 ing so long away from us, and somehow continued to look 
 for you riding up every evening. 
 
 " This was the reasoning of my affection. The next and 
 only other, was the reasoning of my caution. I really saw 
 no opportunity likely to arise, which could be intrusted 
 with so important a missive — there was no 'Earl of ^Yar- 
 wick ' at my command, and J have almost feared to in- 
 trust it to a less responsible envoy. 
 
 " Mr. Campbell's return to-morrow, particularly as it is 
 by your request, is the very first chance that has presented 
 itself, and as you see, I am embracing it. I have, too, quite 
 an assurance of his suitability, from the particular manner 
 of his handing your last note to me — doing it as if a 
 matter of no unusual moment, when no one was present 
 except Lucy and myself; and then, as though he had just 
 remembered it. I have for a good while been much dis- 
 posed to like him ; but now, am even ready to declare my- 
 self his friend, and hope you will find it agreeable to cul- 
 tivate a nearer acquaintance with him, particularly as he 
 is very likely to become a member of our family at no dis- 
 tant day ; and will possess a certain sort of influence with 
 mother, which ice can probably make available to us. He 
 is aware of the many advantages of mind which you have 
 over him, and you can therefore afford to make advances. 
 He, too, is a stranger, while you are at home on your 
 'native heath.' 
 
 *' ' Such a diplomatist,' say you. Yes ; but my intentions 
 are not to take advantage of any one, but to do all the 
 good I can. 
 
 "This much in regard to oin-selves. With regard to 
 2/owrself, it is proper for you to receive the friendship of 
 
BLOOM AND BRIER. 223 
 
 such men, if you desire Buccess and promotion, either as a 
 professional or public character. By the necessary ope- 
 rations of society, all the honors of life are confined within 
 certain particular limits ; and an effort to obtain them out- 
 side of these circles or coteries is of doubtful experiment, 
 or at least places an aspirant in the aggressive, which, to 
 say the least of it, must be very unpleasant to one who 
 possesses social and generous impulses. What a politician 
 I would have made ! Xous verrons. 
 
 "You said, in your letter by father — the 'Last of the 
 Barons' — that it was your first love-letter. I think you 
 are mistaken. You have merely got your position reversed. 
 It was your last; as I always felt that every one you ever 
 wrote me was a genuine love-letter, and met response, too, 
 in my own heart ; elsewise, why should it now belong so 
 entirely to my wild young cousin? I must be right. 
 
 " The only difiference I can see between this and all pre- 
 vious others is, that in this you are my openly avowed 
 'sweetheart,' as you call it, while always before, the same 
 fact was disclosed, but under diflferent disguises ; but they 
 were all the same to a woman's penetration, and to a 
 woman's heart. 
 
 " You see that I am quite resolved to believe that you 
 were always, as you are this day, my own Henry Brandon ; 
 and yet I will confess to you that an avowed profession of 
 your feelings — one that I could see, ay, and feel too — 
 brought a new and an unknown joy to my heart. Oh, 
 cousin ! I can never tell the dreamy happiness, the sweet 
 ecstasy, the brilliant hope, that came as angels come, and 
 colored the future of my life with the softness of the sky's 
 own blue, when. I held your letter before me, telling me 
 that you loved me ! The innocent fancy of childhood, and 
 the beautiful vision that had ever floated along the path 
 of my girlhood's wild and shy romance, came gushing over 
 me in a flood of light, and love, and truth. But I fear 
 you grow weary of this lightly told history of a heart you 
 have appeared to win so easily ; yet I hope not ; nor yet 
 must you think it an unmaiden thing to tell so plainly the 
 life secret of my woman's soul. But I know I wrong you 
 wiien I use such words, even with Love's sweet privilege, 
 as the very spirit that hovers over my being, ever tells 
 me that you are my own, even as / ivas ever yours. Though 
 
224 BLOOM AND BRIER. 
 
 T scarce did know hew our hopes, our fortunes, and all 
 the shadows of our lives were to commingle into one, yet 
 every year brought its own bright imaginings, with not one 
 doubt to darken their glowing freshness. But still, with 
 all this unrippled smoothness in my feelings' flow, and all 
 my present blissful gladness, there is some vague and ach- 
 ing fear of the future, some uncertain woe, which I scarce 
 can trace back to its bitter source. Yet, never mind ; it 
 may be but a baseless ajDprehension, and I will hope it is. 
 
 " Lucy has already returned from the parlor, asleep, and 
 dreaming of the bright future, it may be, while I am still 
 writing of .the bright past. From the first-mentioned fact 
 you may know it is growing quite late, and I am warned 
 to stop, elsewise Mr. Campbell might find some inconve- 
 nience in carrying such a package. And now may the 
 angels guard you ! My spirit is ever with you. 
 
 " Yours, afl^ectionately, Laura Brandon. 
 
 " P. S. — I have kept this letter open until since dinner 
 was over, just to tell you that precisely at 12 o'clock, to- 
 day, in accordance with your boyish request, I thought 
 of you, when your image was on my heart as palpably as 
 ever your form was present to my eye. Yours, L. B." 
 
 As we have already said, Henry read and re-read this 
 letter, re-opened, re-read, and speculated as to the future, 
 until a late hour, and, falling into a gentle sleep as he sat 
 in his arm-chair with his gown around him, dreamed of his 
 lovely cousin. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXiy. 
 
 " It were all one, 
 That I should love a bright, particular star, 
 And think to wed it, he is so above me." 
 
 THE time had at length arrived which young Brandon 
 had capriciously set apart for his visit to the country. 
 Having, too, completed the first readmg of his Blackstone, 
 he felt at full liberty to take all the recreation he desired. 
 
BLOOM AND BRIER. 225 
 
 Judge Lorn evidently disliked to give him up, even for 
 so short a time, and said to him that he had better remain 
 but a few days, as the law differed from most other studies, 
 and a student would soon lose the whole system of reason- 
 ing and induction, by disuse. 
 
 Henry admitted that it was doubtless so, but told him 
 that there were two events which would necessarily inter- 
 vene before his return — the Christmas holidays, and his 
 sister's wedding — the latter being appointed to take place 
 early in January. He very fortunately had these excuses ; 
 but even had they not existed, all the Blackstones ever 
 published, would not have restrained him from the enjoy- 
 ment which he promised himself within the next few 
 weeks. "Sam Brandon"— who had been with him— was 
 accordingly ordered to take to the country such matters 
 of apparel as would be necessary for a month's sojourn, 
 and, the next day after that, Henry himself followed. 
 
 Life soon assumed all the old heyday of pleasure, even 
 as if there had never been a book published ; and much 
 of his time was passed with his cousins, who never failed 
 to meet him with pleasure, while Mrs. Brandon was forced 
 into the same appearance of welcome. He was made to 
 feel, however, that there was really but little pleasure felt 
 by her in his visits. This, however, he cared little for, as 
 he had learned not to expect it, and knew that she had no 
 direct cause to receive him in any other wise than respect- 
 fully. 
 
 His mother and Violet had begun to be troubled about 
 his attentions to Laura, feeling satisfied that it would pro- 
 duce a rupture between the families, as soon as he should 
 attempt a change in the relations between himself and 
 Laura, with the certainty, too, of failure on his part. 
 
 Mrs. Brandon finally resolved to have some serious con- 
 versation with him in regard to it, if it was possible to do 
 so; and on the first opportunity which presented itself 
 
226 BLOOM AND BRIER. 
 
 she began bv suggesting once more, that, in consequence 
 of the approaching marriage of Violet, some changes would 
 be necessary to be made in their private affairs, and asked 
 him if he had thought of the matter. 
 
 "No, not a great deal, mother. I have just thought 
 that they would go along as most affairs of the sort do go." 
 
 His tone of voice was a little irritable, which induced 
 her to say, in reply : 
 
 " I know the matter is not a very delightful one to you, 
 my son ; yet we cannot always have our own choosing in 
 the course of events. Some things force themselves upon 
 our attention ; and while not pleasing, perhaps, are exactly 
 such as the pleasantnesses of life hinge upon, and there- 
 fore we must attend to the one, in order to secure the other. 
 Every sweet has its bitter; but every bitter has its own 
 recommendations." 
 
 " Well, mother, that is a comforting sort of philosophy. 
 I am therefore at your service, for the discussion of any 
 little subject that you may propose. What view do you 
 wish that I should take of this very serious subject? " 
 
 He had not more than spoken these words, when Violet 
 entered the room, to whom he turned and said : 
 
 " Sister, these nuptial enterprises seem to be quite serious 
 concerns, in these latter days. It is but a short time since 
 when something connected with a certain one, forced the 
 fact upon my attention that I was approaching that rubi- 
 con of manhood, which twains midway the masculine part 
 of life, ycleped vingt-et-un, when, forsooth, it rises before me 
 again, in a more formidable shape. Now, can't you and 
 Hunter, wdth mother for judge-advocate, arrange the whole 
 affair, and release me of all connection with it ? " 
 
 " I can't say, brother. Perhaps I might assist, if I were 
 aware of its nature." 
 
 " Oh, I thought, as a matter of course, that the sugges- 
 tion was made at your instance, and assure you that I 
 
BLOOM AND BRIE«. 227 
 
 am wholly unprepared to enlighten you in the premises. 
 "What is the character of the disquisition, mother, which 
 I am invited to participate in ? " 
 
 "It was with regard to what arrangement you wished in 
 reference to the division of the estate." 
 
 '* Ah, ha ! Well, as I have always done very well with- 
 out a division, suppose we still remain united." 
 
 " That would be very agreeable ; but it must, at least, 
 have a nominal head, which your uncle has been for many 
 years ; but he cannot do so much longer." 
 
 " Well, if I must speak, let me get up some evidence. 
 Violet, to whom do you intend clinging for the future — 
 to mother, or to Thomas Hunter ? " 
 
 " I must try to cling to both, brother," said she, blush- 
 ing, as she turned her mischievous face toward him. " I 
 cannot leave mother, and ought not to leave Mr. Hunter. 
 What do you advise ? " 
 
 " Just exactly as you say — cling to both. That relieves 
 me." 
 
 " But do you not intend remaining with us ? " 
 
 " Oh, yes, for a few days, probably. But then I might 
 partially lose my senses, and conclude to unite my fortunes 
 with those of some sweet, unsuspecting girl ; and then, you 
 know, we should be compelled to separate." 
 
 " Not necessarily. We could continue to live together 
 then as well as now — particularly if it was Miss Gray." 
 
 " Yes — Miss Gray ; but suppose it should be our pretty 
 cousin Laura?" 
 
 Mrs. Brandon now again joined the conversation, and 
 said to him : " My son, let me beg you not to think of 
 Laura in that way. She is one of the sweetest girls I 
 ever knew, and with her cultivated mind, her generous 
 character, her industry, and her beauty, would make a be- 
 coming wife for the best gentleman in the land ; but I tell 
 you in all sincerity she will never marry you against her 
 
228 BLOOM AND BRIER. 
 
 mother's consent, and that you will never get ; and you will 
 only bring unhappiness to her now peaceful and pleasant 
 life, by putting that question to the test. She admires you 
 I know ; I had almost said loves you, and has done so from 
 a girl ; but as yet, it has only been as toward a gay, dashing 
 cousin, and let it remain at that." 
 
 " Mother, you are making a very solemn affair out of it: 
 you really frighten me. Can't a young gentleman love a 
 pretty cousin just a ' wee bit,' without making all the world 
 miserable ? " 
 
 "You should not attempt to turn it off* so lightly, as per- 
 haps I know more than you think for." 
 
 "Ah! what is that?" 
 
 " If you will answer me a direct question, I will tell 
 you." 
 
 " I may if I can." 
 
 "Then, have you not written Laura on that subject with- 
 in the last month?" 
 
 " Oh, mother ; that is what ive lawyers call a leading ques- 
 tion, therefore must not permit you to ask it. But why do 
 you put it?" 
 
 "She showed Violet a note, which you would not have 
 written had it not been preceded by another of a different 
 character ; and then I saw her hand Mr. Campbell a letter, 
 which I supposed was for you. Is this so ? " 
 
 "It is." 
 
 " Have you the letter with you ? " 
 
 " I have." 
 
 " Will you show it to me? " 
 
 " That would never do, mother.'* 
 
 " Of course, I do not wish to read a letter to you which 
 was intended to be private, but I know that you would not 
 hesitate, were it a mere letter of friendship." 
 
 " Brother," said Violet, laughing, and evidently for the 
 purpose of changing the conversation; "let me ask you to 
 
BLOOM AND B 11 1 E R . 229 
 
 vi:jit ^li^s Gray ; ^lie is a beautiful girl, and I think you 
 would be pleased with her." 
 
 "Yes; and I rather thought, too, the young lady was 
 pleased with me — and she rather appears to be such an 
 one as a gentleman might afford to flirt with, for a season 
 at least. But then, my dear sister, you appear to proceed 
 on the amorial hypothesis that your brother is frantic on 
 the subject of matrimony, whereas I am extremely indif- 
 ferent ; and moreover, do not admire this idea of roving 
 over the country in quest of a sweetheart, as if looking for 
 a horse. I wish the young lady who may have the good 
 fortune to receive my attentions, to happen as it were, in 
 my way." 
 
 " Well, your first meeting was certainly fortuitous — just 
 of the very description you speak of" 
 
 " Yes, so it was ; and I have heard that you wished her 
 for one of your bridemaids." 
 
 "I had thought of asking her; but she has gone to 
 Memphis on a visit to some relations, and will not be back 
 before spring." 
 
 " Ha ! ha ! so there was a most beautiful failure in your 
 scheme." 
 
 " No, no scheme at all." 
 
 " Just my luck then — see how the fates are spinning out 
 my thread. I am forced to fall in love with Laura, from the 
 pure necessities of the case ; but who have you to fill her 
 place on that blissful occasion?" 
 
 Violet then told him all her arrangements, and answered 
 his question directly, by telling him that a Miss Jenny 
 Morris, an orphan niece of Judge Hunter, on a visit to him 
 from South Carolina, would be one of her attendants, "and 
 really one of the prettiest girls I ever saw." 
 
 " Indeed ; and what is the style of her surpassing 
 beauty?" 
 
 " Medium height, faultless figure, graceful, elegant in her 
 20 
 
230 BLOOM AXD BRIER. 
 
 carriage, brilliant but soft black eyes, hair black — black 
 as a raven — fresh complexion, with just enough of the olive 
 tinge to give it perfect beauty ; pearly teeth, without which 
 no woman can be pretty." 
 
 "I agree with you, nor even decent — go on." 
 
 "The prettiest mouth, and the reddest, sweetest lips — " 
 
 "All very good — go on." 
 
 "Highly educated, a beautiful performer on the harp 
 and guitar, and one of the finest singers you ever listened 
 to." 
 
 " Very fine ! — proceed." 
 
 "Well, altogether, she is just the girl to secure a full 
 share of your august admiration ; and according to your 
 own ideas, has fallen accidentally in your way — no hunting 
 up done on either side, every thing perfectly natural, and 
 you are to wait with her." 
 
 "Very fine — perfectly enchanting ; but why did you not 
 say at once, sister, sent expressly by the gods to meet me 
 on this hymeneal occasion. The contre-temps would then 
 have been sublime — leaving nothing for me to do, but to 
 go through the short and vulgar preliminary of obtaining 
 a — license, in consideration of the payment of three dollars. 
 But why, all this while, have you not had Laura as one of 
 your lady-waiters ? This looks like a conspiracy against 
 me, sister." 
 
 "Oh! no, brother; you know my feelings too well to 
 think that. No, she positively declined." 
 
 " For what reason, Violet ? " 
 
 " I cannot say, as she positively refuses to give any. I 
 accused her, in pleasantry, of some sort of superstition ; 
 because I was younger than she." 
 
 "I merely said what I did in jest — of course did not 
 think it. But it is strange why she refused. But ' all 's 
 well that ends well.' So I shall wait with Miss — what 
 did you say ? " 
 
B LOOM AND BRIER. 231 
 
 "Jenny Morris." 
 
 " A very pretty name. Pity that she should change it, 
 even for the noble one of Brandon. She has high author- 
 ity, though, for believing that a rose will smell as sweet 
 by any other name ; and therefore I, the imperial Henry 
 Brandon, may stoop to pluck this gentle flower, and wear 
 it on my royal bosom without injury to its fragrance," 
 speaking in a tone of mixed levity and irony, which he 
 intended to be noticed by his mother and sister ; and Vio- 
 let observing it in an instant, said : 
 
 " I was only jesting when I suggested Jenny Morris to 
 your attention ; and yet, from what I have seen of her, and 
 heard of her, I believe she would be an eligible match for 
 any gentleman who did not desire fortune." 
 
 "You are quite enthusiastic, Violet, in the praises of 
 your new friends. First Miss Gray, and next Miss Morris. 
 But you spoil your picture of the latter, in the last touch 
 of your brush. Ko fortune, at this advanced age of the 
 world! That condition is particularly unfortunate. But 
 do you think there would be any objections in that quarter?" 
 
 " None, of course ; for what objection could there be to 
 yon, in any quarter, but in that one of which we have 
 spoken ; and you know the source of that. Now, sir, does 
 my complimentary explanation appease your ire ? " 
 
 " Most effectually ; and I now feel all the inspiration of 
 the Jenny — who ? — proposition. Yes, Jenny Morris shall 
 be my motto for — I can't say hoAV long. Beautiful, accom- 
 plished, fine family ; but — no fortune ! Alas ! Oh, cruel 
 fate ! say I, as I am a fortune-hunter. But then she has 
 the especial recommendation of having no towering papa, 
 or lynx-eyed mamma, to supervise her inclinations. Very 
 agreeable facts generally, but have a particular beauty to 
 me about this time." 
 
 "Yes, and — " 
 
 " Enough, Violet. You will overwhelm me, if you add 
 
232 BLOOM A XD BRIER. 
 
 another recommendation. You would force me to go 
 directly in search of this Hebe. But what shall I say to 
 sweet Laura Brandon when she sees that I have made my- 
 self a Romeo to another Juliet ? " 
 
 " You need say nothing to Laura, for she will see your 
 right to do so, knowing that she will never marry you, nor 
 any one, against her mother's wishes ; and in your case 
 already knows that she will never get it. But remember, 
 brother, that both you and Laura have no better friend 
 than I, in any cause." 
 
 Henry Brandon saw the purpose of Violet, and while 
 he could not but feel bitterly in regard to it, he affected to 
 treat the whole matter lightly. Let us wait and see the 
 end. 
 
 " Ah ! that is the true ring, sister; and, win or lose, you 
 place me under the same obligation, and in return for it I 
 now offer you my services in any capacity relative to your 
 entertainment, from runninor on small errands, to the icing: 
 of cake; " and he left the room with a bitter laugh. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXY. 
 
 "I hold the world but as the world, Gratiano; 
 A stage, where ev'ry man must play a part. 
 And mine a sad one." 
 
 TOLlN"G Brandon, feeling out of humor, without scarcely 
 knowing why, remained at home for several days, 
 only varying the monotony by an occasional partridge 
 hunt, wdth ''Sam Brandon" for his companion. Wearying 
 with this sort of mixed sullenness and trouble, he resolved 
 on a visit to Hunter, who had, indeed, been over to Mrs. 
 Brandon's the evening before, but he had failed to meet 
 him, from being absent on one of his hunting excursions. 
 
R L O () M A N D B K I E R . 233 
 
 Orderiiip: Sam to have theliorscs, he hud no sooner fiiii.slicd 
 his breakfast, than ho rode off, telling his mother and sister 
 not to be uneasy, as lie ^vas not going to see Laura, but 
 intended spending the day with Hunter. 
 
 " ]\[y son," said jNIrs. Brandon, " I fear that you have 
 felt hurt with me, for a day or two past; but — " 
 
 Henry Brandon rather laughed, and told her not to 
 finish the sentence, an^ left the house without waiting for 
 her to conclude her remarks. 
 
 The day was cold and clear, but beautiful for the middle 
 of December. The wind was still, and the warm, yellow 
 sunshine rested softly on the bosom of the brown sward, 
 as if soothing it for the crisp frost of the morning, and was 
 now resolved on melting away its memory. As he rode 
 quietly along, the peculiar winter softness of the scene gave 
 cast to his own reflections, and he wondered why the unseen 
 hand that guides and rules the seasons could so forget the 
 destinies of human life, and all the hopes, the loves, the 
 anxieties, and the sorrows of the heart, as to permit events 
 to transpire so irregularly, and so rudely to sweep its tender 
 chords. The laws, thought he, wdiich govern the changes 
 of nature, work w^ith a certain positive regularity — one 
 season legitimately succeeds another, and we know what 
 and when to expect it. Spring, with its glowing beauty, 
 and buoyant youth, comes, with its mysterious germina- 
 tions, and lays the foundations of the year ; then comes 
 the glorious, splendid Summer, commanding all the sin- 
 gular and unknown energies of the earth, and with certainty 
 drives Nature on to full fruition. Next, is the lovely, quiet 
 Autumn, to rest this Nature, as it were, from its heaving 
 toils ; and while the sighing west wind mourns, in vesper 
 cadences, the Summer's fadings hand over to the hearty, 
 hale old Frost King the full account of its stewardship. 
 " And now," said he, " here he is in all the majesty of his 
 reign, honored by the groaning abundance of the year ; and 
 
ZJ4 BLOOM AND BRIER. 
 
 this bright, balmy day is some grand gala-time in his boreal 
 court. Yes," continued he, in his low soliloquy, " all is reg- 
 ular, smooth, and right in this kingdom of the earth and sky ; 
 but not thus in human life. There all, everything is uncer- 
 tain, dark, and unreliable ; nothing is to be depended on — 
 no, devil the bit — rather, everything appears to work by con- 
 traries. Now, why can't I claim the hand of Laura Bran- 
 don? Her heart is mine — and, by my faith, 'tis a puny 
 sort of acknowledgment; but mine is hers — and yet all 
 the consolation I get for this, is in that babbling nonsense 
 of old Shakspeare, that the course of ' true love never 
 did run smooth.' Now, does his having said it, and every 
 other fool repeating it, make it any the better for me? No; 
 it 's just what I dislike, the more I think of it. I wish the 
 old ass had had no dream on that midsummer night, but 
 had slept with the soundness of the seven sleepers — or at 
 least dreamed something else. But, never mind; it will 
 be right against the twentieth century. 
 
 " Come, let 's ride up," said he, addressing Sam for the 
 first time ; and both started their horses at a -rapid gait, 
 but had not gone far before they met Dr. Wilton. 
 
 Henry and the Doctor seemed mutually pleased with 
 the accidental meeting, and in a running manner talked 
 over the neighborhood gossip. 
 
 Brandon supposing, as a matter of course, that he was 
 out on professional calls, presently asked who was sick. 
 
 "No one, particularly," he rather stammeringly replied; 
 "I am from Judge Hunter's this morning." 
 
 " Anything the matter there ? " he innocently asked. 
 
 " Oh, no," he answered, laughingly ; " I merely passed 
 the evening with him ; or with the young ladies, you will 
 say." 
 
 " Ah, I beg pardon. But that was quite as pleasant as 
 practising, and mayhap more profitable, too." 
 
 " More pleasant, I grant you. As to the profit, depo- 
 nent saith not." 
 
BLOOM AND BRIER. 235 
 
 " I learn, Doctor, that the stars are all right in that 
 quarter of the hymeneal heavens, and I congratulate you 
 on being under their influence." 
 
 "I am obliged to you, indeed. And now permit me to 
 congratulate you, as there are some pleasant rumors afloat 
 in which you have an interest." 
 
 " Well, I shall not be so bashful as to disclaim having 
 an idea of what the rumors are ; but as I hear them, they are 
 not very flattering to my vanity or prospects." 
 
 "Then you must let me sympathize with you," said he 
 jocosely. " But yours is not the current statement. By 
 the way, you have a very warm friend, and a great ad- 
 mirer over at our house, Mr. Brandon ; and if all the 
 world were as he is, you would certainly have fair skies 
 and smooth sailing ; but he is much disposed to grumble 
 at your never coming over to see him." 
 
 " Yes, you allude to Mr. Thaxtou ; and I am really 
 ashamed of never having gone to see him." 
 
 " I also met another very warm admirer of yours yester- 
 day, and he asked me to deliver you a message if I saw you 
 which I had scarcely thought of since. Do you remember 
 Jack Gaulding?" 
 
 " Oh, very well," replied Henry Brandon, laughing ; "one 
 of my old boyhood friends, down in the hills." 
 
 "Yes — well, I met him yesterday in company with 
 several others, armed to the teeth, all of whom appeared to 
 know you, and knew that you had returned ; but had not 
 met with you, and expressed a great desire to see you once 
 more before they were all hilled, or were comj^elled to leave 
 the country." 
 
 " Yes ; but why do they say * killed,' or compelled to leave 
 the country ? " 
 
 " I believe they have all been associated with Miller in 
 his outlawry, and I suppose they think one or the other 
 result will follow." 
 
236 BLOOM AND BRIER. 
 
 "Ah ! yes — -well, did they designate any particular day 
 or occasion?" 
 
 " Yes. next Saturday week, at Manese's grocery ; -when 
 there will be a ' ya?ic/er-pulling ' during the day, and a hall 
 at night." 
 
 The Doctor pretended to hesitate as he delivered the 
 message ; but there was an evident twinkle in his eye as he 
 did so, which Brandon discovering, replied : 
 
 "Good, my lord; I shall take one chance, cost what it 
 will. I may not win a great deal, but I shall certainly not 
 lose much. It is about the last flicker of the old hill- 
 country life, I should judge, and I must see it. Would 
 you like to go. Doctor ? It will be worth more than ten non- 
 sensical, formal, court receptions — it will be human nature 
 nude. Will you go ? It may lose you some few old patrons 
 up here, but it will gain you twenty there." 
 
 "Oh, damn the expense on a spree, as the two Yankees 
 said when they divided the glass of hard cider. Yes, I will 
 go ; but we need make no blowing horn of it." 
 
 " Certainly not. Then, let us meet at St. Mary's Church 
 next Saturday morning week, at eight o'clock. The Parson 
 will think you out practising, and mother and Violet will 
 scarcely question me." After some other general conver- 
 sation, the two wild Southerners parted to meet again at the 
 appointed time. 
 
 After going some hundred yards, Brandon turned in his 
 saddle, and called out : 
 
 "Doctor, how do you think Miss H. will like it?" 
 
 " I can't really say ; but the tender passion must lower 
 its crest, when a frolic is on the wing — but how do you 
 think Miss B. will take it?" 
 
 " Ah ! that matter is about lost anyway. ' Gone glim- 
 mering through the dream of things that were,'" and with 
 the last words dashed on. 
 
 It was now but a few minutes' ride to Hunter's residence, 
 
BLOOM AND BRIER. 237 
 
 and reachinc^ there, without ceremony he entered the house; 
 and found his ohl friend and chissmate comfortably seated 
 before a good fire in his library, diving deep into the mys- 
 teries of the celebrated Resolutions of '98-99. 
 
 "Ah — the top of the morning to you — extremely com- 
 fortable," said Brandon as he entered very unexpectedly. 
 
 "Why, good morning, Henry," said, he rising. "You 
 surprised me — just from home?" 
 
 "Yes; grew weary of looking at the 'woman-kind,' and 
 thought to come over and tax your time. What pamphlet 
 is that which seems to have so absorbed you?" 
 
 "The Virginia and Kentucky Resolutions. I happened 
 to pick it up after breakfast, and becoming interested, had 
 not laid it down. It contains the notes upon them, of Pro- 
 fessor — " 
 
 " Have you a mind to join the State Rights party ? " 
 
 " No ; yet the doctrine has some very plausible reasons 
 in its behalf, to say the least." 
 
 "Pshaw! the devil! fiddlesticks, man — Utopian, absurd 
 — nothing short of the immaculacy of angels could carry 
 out the idea. No people on earth before ours ever tried 
 to live under tivo governments at once ; and taken in con- 
 nection with human nature as it is, the doctrine is bound 
 to lead to collision and destruction of what we are pleased 
 to call our republican government, but that would be no 
 damned bad idea. If we admit these resolutions to be the 
 true text of the Constitution, we had better have given 
 over the whole thing to Jefl^erson, and let him run the 
 machine, for no one else ever caught the idea. They are 
 the embodyment of his visionary nonsensicalities — partly 
 derived from Locke, partly from the revolutionary French 
 "writers, and twisted into their present shape by his own idio- 
 syncratic mind." 
 
 " Why, Henry, you must have swallowed a paper of tacks. 
 You don't appear to think much of our great constitutional 
 
238 BLOOM AND BRIER. 
 
 apostle, nor of republics either. You must have been in 
 close confab with your uncle Robert." 
 
 " Uncle Robert ! Your grandmother's goose ! I expect 
 he is a very clever man, but he has but a poor share of 
 independence, and therefore not a man for me to copy after 
 in anything." 
 
 " Hah ! — what 's the matter now, Henry ?" 
 "Oh, nothing; but speaking of old Jefferson and repub- 
 lics — I am happy to say that I have not the least infatu- 
 ation in those directions, Mr. Robert Brandon pro or 
 con ; but Jefferson really puts off the tricks and quirks of 
 intellect for intellect itself. And as to republics, I should 
 have thought that that damned Puritan effort, with Crom- 
 well in the lead, and the woful experiment of France, 
 would have satisfied all the world of the absurdity of the 
 idea of men being capable of governing themselves ; but 
 we have got the old shoe revamped, and think to wear it, 
 and while our country is a forest, and men do not live 
 nearer than in cock-crow of each other, it may work very 
 well ; but just wait till they step on one another's heels, and 
 then will come the explosion. We could live under any 
 form of government just now — the worst despotism could 
 not hurt us, with our territory and resources; but just 
 wait till we come in sight of each other, and interests 
 begin to clash — if you want your eyes to feast on ruin. 
 There will not be a vestige of this thing left in twenty-five 
 years, and in fifty years we will not be able to locate the 
 idea of an American Republic, any more than we can 
 locate the site of Troy or the garden of Eden ; and old 
 Jefferson, Washington, Adams & Co. will be as great 
 myths as Priam, Hector, and Achilles, or Adam ; and we 
 will be farther from freedom than if we had never at- 
 tempted the foolish but dangerous experiment. It will, 
 indeed, then require the very worst form of a despotism to 
 get us back to even a decent standard of conduct and feel- 
 
BLOOM AND BRIER. 239 
 
 ing. No, men are but little more fit for self-government 
 than the brute creation ; the Alitijghty never intended the 
 idea to pass even into the appearance of a system, further 
 than as a sort of penance or crucible, through which they 
 should pass for purification from some great pestilential 
 contamination. If there was nothing else to disprove the 
 idea of men being capable of self-government, the mere 
 fact of such as Clay and "Webster being held in subordi- 
 nate places to such as Van Buren, Polk, * et id omne,' is 
 a complete demonstration. Just look at all the various 
 causes that work the defeat of such men, and you will see 
 your idea is perfectly untenable — not reconcilable to the 
 first legitimate purpose of government." 
 
 " Well, Sir Satirist, what style would please you ? " 
 
 *' Just that which every sensible man knows is the only 
 one under which men can or will live in peace, and that 
 to which every civilized people have returned to, whatever 
 may have been their departures from it — a constitutional 
 monarchy, or any other sort of monarchy, in preference to 
 the turbulent anarchy of a republic. All governments 
 based upon the idea of man's capacity for self-govern- 
 ment — from Adam in Eden down to the American people 
 — have and will prove terrible failures — first a republic, 
 then democracy, then anarchy, then despotism, and last a 
 monarchy, is the short history of all governments and 
 people." 
 
 " Plenry, you are wild this morning. Is your digestion 
 good? are your bilious secretions all right?" 
 
 "Never better; but I may be a little jaundiced this 
 morning, as I have reason to fear that some of my small 
 matters are not working smoothly. If I had a little des- 
 potic power — rather think I could bring them all right." 
 
 " Ah, my boy ! I fear you are approaching a premature 
 senility. I have never seen you unable before to control 
 your affairs as you wished." 
 
240 BLOOM AN DBRIER. 
 
 " Something of the sort, perhaps ; bat I have truly fallen 
 ipto an evil place this time, I fear. One that I cannot get 
 my hand on — it eludes me." 
 
 "What has happened so disastrous to the fortunes of 
 ^neas?" 
 
 "Just a new leaf I have turned over in the ' Ars Ama- 
 toma,' which I doubt my capacity to translate." 
 
 " Stop your enigmas and tell me your trouble." 
 
 Henry then told him the probable state of affairs between 
 himself and Laura, when Hunter advised him to the course 
 which he thought best for the present. But to the sugges- 
 tion of calling on Laura the next day, and getting her 
 consent to let him speak to her father in regard to the 
 affair, Brandon laughed, and said : 
 
 "Tom, to-morrow is Friday, man; an ominous day to 
 begin an important work." 
 
 " Pshaw ! my good fellow, put Friday in your pocket, 
 and go along about your work. There is no man in as bad 
 luck as he that puts off till to-morrow." 
 
 " ^yell, I will do as you say ; but I have no idea that any 
 good will come of it — it's gone — gone to the devil ! — past 
 praying for. Some things I know so well, as never to 
 trouble myself about the wherefore — fate!" 
 
 " Faint heart never won fair woman." 
 
 " No, nor any sort ever won a conceited old one." 
 
 " Conceit in weakest bodies works strongest, Shak- 
 speare informs us, and as he knows every thing, I suppose 
 he told the truth." 
 
 The conversation now gradually ran into other channels, 
 and the day was spent in such ways as young men under 
 such circumstances usually dispose of them. The weather 
 growing colder, Henry left rather early after dinner on that 
 account. They had not ridden far, when " Sam Brandon" 
 rode up to his side, and in a sort of confidential tone, 
 said: 
 
BLOOM AND BRIER. 241 
 
 "]\Iass ITonry, what's all thi.s hully-be-lu they is gittin' 
 up 'bout you aud ^liss Laura?" 
 
 "Hully-be-lu, Sam? what do you mean by that? — is 
 there any such thing going on?" 
 
 " Why, yes, sir, they is making a big to do, I hears ; but 
 its all * nigger news,' and maybe it ain't so." 
 
 " What have you heard ? " 
 
 " I hears Miss Laura stays in her room, and ole Miss 
 Catherine is mad as she can be with everybody, and you 
 in particular. Mass Robert he says nothin', but keeps out 
 in the plantation." 
 
 "That is a hully-be-lu, as you call it, and we must go 
 over and see about it ; and what I can't find out, you must." 
 
 " I will that ; for the niggers all knows, and I hear they 
 is mity mad about it. Miss Laura, you see, is the favorite of 
 'em all. But anyhow, if old Miss Catherine went to makin' 
 too much fuss, 1 would go to see some other young lady. 
 S'pose you go to see ole Mass Gray's daughter, she is a 
 mity fine-lookin* young lady — rich till thar ain't no end to 
 it, and she was rale struck with you; I sede it — niggers 
 knows them sort of things; and thar's a beautiful one at 
 Judge Hunter's, not long come thar, and is going to wait 
 on Miss Violet." 
 
 "Yes — well, I will see about this other first, Sam." 
 
 " Oh, yes, of cose ; but I would'n' stan' 'em raisin' a rackit 
 over my head ; an' you know they alw'ys did say th^it every 
 thing had to go as Miss Catherine said — the old devil can't 
 turn her head when it once gits sot." 
 
 As "Sam Brandon" ended these wise suggestions, Henry 
 rather impatiently struck off in a swift gallop, saying to 
 himself, " The devil must be in my luck, even Sam must 
 take part and recommend — Miss Gray. Very well, we 
 shall see." 
 21 
 
242 BLOOM AND BRIER. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXYL 
 
 " The good are better made by ill, 
 As odors crushed are sweeter still." 
 
 THE following morning, in accordance with the sugges- 
 tion of Hunter, Henry Brandon went over to see 
 Laura, for the purpose of learning the actual condition of 
 things, and if possible to make some more reliable arrange- 
 ment of their relationship. 
 
 Reaching there, he was met by his aunt, who appeared 
 more gracious than usual, or at least than he expected ; 
 and he at once began to think that his fears were either 
 unfounded, or that she had carried her point. Assuming 
 his customary gayety of manner, he soon asked for his 
 uncle and the girls. 
 
 Mr. Brandon came to the parlor, as soon as he heard 
 that Henry was there, though at the very time in the act 
 of riding out. Everything appeared as natural and easy 
 as usual, and conversation was going glibly along on gen- 
 era:! matters, when Lucy entered the room unaccompanied 
 by her sister. "Ah! something in that," said Henry to 
 himself; but choosing not to notice it, rose and met Lucy 
 with his ever-merry face and salutation. 
 
 ""Where is the Lady Laura this morning?" he at length 
 ventured to ask. 
 
 " She will be here directly," Lucy replied. 
 
 At this moment !Mr. Brandon took occasion to leave 
 the room, asking Henry to excuse him for an hour or so, 
 but asking him also to remain till his return, as he wished 
 to see him. 
 
 Mrs. Brandon had already left the room, but as if from 
 no unusual cause ; Henry, finding himself alone with Lucy, 
 had just begun to inform her of what he had heard, when 
 
BLOOM AXD BRIER. 243 
 
 Laura entered 8he met him pleasantly, but with so evi- 
 dently a subdued manner as at once to expose the suf- 
 fering of some mental conflict now past. He endeavored to 
 rattle along in his usual vein, but had manifestly wearied 
 in the eflfbrt, when he recovered and said : 
 
 "Girls, we have all certainly been to a 'Methodist, 
 meetin' ' — we are as serious as if we had been on the 
 mourner's seat, or preparing our ascension robes in honor 
 of Miller's prophecy. I mean this more for you than 
 for myself — but even / feel some sort of embarrassment, 
 which, you know, is not often the case; I therefore 
 propose a little music by way of thaw to this rigidity. 
 Come, Lucy, you hold a very nice relationship to one we 
 know ; suppose you sing a love-soug — in character." 
 
 "No, cousin, I am not in that mood this morning; I am 
 thinking of briefs, declarations, and professional matters 
 generally," said Lucy, rather affecting to be cheerful. 
 
 " Oh, I had thought you had gone higher in your case, 
 and was now ready for trial. I really wish to hear you 
 both sing, as I fear some great evil has befallen your voices. 
 Come, Laura, suppose, then, you try yours first." 
 
 Laura responded with a faint smile, but made no motion 
 as if to rise. Henry, observing her rather listless look, rose 
 himself and said, "Come, cousin, sing, play, or talk, or I 
 shall leave in twenty seconds — I am growing frantic." 
 
 "You promised father to remain until his return," said 
 Lucy. 
 
 " So I did, but I did n't promise to let his girls freeze me 
 to death during his absence. Business is about the last 
 thing I ever intend to respond to ; your trades-people attend 
 to business. At all events, I can meet him in one of the 
 temperate latitudes and attend to what he wants — this is 
 a frigid zone. But come, my fair kinswoman," said he, 
 as he rose and took Laura by the hand, " allow me to sup- 
 port you to the piano ; and I beseech you to let one more 
 
244 BLOOM AND BRIER. 
 
 ray of genial warmth and happiness gladden your sad 
 face. Come, sing a song of joy and love^ and I will even 
 join you." 
 
 Laura rose at this, and, walking to the piano, asked him 
 "what she should sing for him. 
 
 "Yes — I am obliged; well, there is a sweet old song 
 that just occurs to me — and I have n't heard it for years — 
 beginning with these beautiful words — 
 
 " * If a body meet a body 
 
 Comin' through the rye. 
 And a body kiss a body, 
 Xeed a body cry ? ' " 
 
 Lucy had purposely left the room as Laura rose to go to 
 the piano, and when Henry had finished the words, he gal- 
 lantly leaned over, and kissed her colorless cheek. She made 
 no resistance, but neither spoke nor smiled, and immedi- 
 ately began to sing, in a low voice, that really beautiful old 
 love-song of "Go, forget me," and, though perhaps she did 
 not know it, sang a destiny. She had sung but a few lines, 
 -when her voice became so tremulous as to compel her to 
 stop. Henry Brandon now laid his arm gently around her 
 neck, and said : 
 
 " Laura, dear Laura, what is it that so greatlv troubles 
 you?" 
 
 For a few moments neither spoke ; but she, seeming to 
 recover, gently displaced his arm, and rising from her seat, 
 said to him, in a soft, low voice : 
 
 " Cousin, can you forgive my woman's lips for having 
 spoken what my woman's courage is too weak to execute?" 
 Then taking his hand, she said, " I once told you that my 
 heart was yours, and partially promised you my hand, and 
 still so much is this the truth, that neither will ever be 
 another's." 
 
 "Oh, Laura! Laura! this is too bad — too bad; tell 
 
BLOOM A N 1) BRIER. 245 
 
 me why these strange words, and why this singular 
 course?" 
 
 " Do not pain me, cousin, by asking that question ; you 
 know the cause." 
 
 She then proceeded to inform him that she had dropped 
 his h\st letter to her, while walking in the garden, from 
 her bosom, that it had been picked up by a servant, who 
 knew not to whom it belonged, and taken to her mother, 
 who, at once recognizing the handwriting, sent for her and 
 rather demanded to know the nature of it. 
 
 " I thought it as favorable an opportunity as I should 
 ever have," she continued, "and told her of the whole 
 affair — from girlhood till now." 
 
 "What did she say?" he asked, eagerly, with his heart 
 almost choking his utterance. 
 
 " She spoke of you appreciating! y in many things, but 
 dwelt upon your wildness, your youth, and, above all, on 
 our being cousins, which, she said, she never could become 
 reconciled to, and 'could never feel to you as she should to 
 my — husband — as to a natural member of her family." 
 
 "Did you consent to these objections?" in a voice illy 
 concealing his contempt. 
 
 "No, not one moment, and you wrong me by asking 
 Fuch a question." 
 
 "What feeling, then, made you yield?" 
 " Cousin, you know that ive are but tico, that we have 
 been reared immediately under our mother's eye ; her wishes 
 have ever been our law, and a law \Vhich we delighted to 
 obey. On her part, our pleasure and happiness have ever 
 been the leading objects of her life ; therefore I can not — 
 know not, how to go counter to her wishes, and even have 
 conscientious scruples on that point. To become jouru-ife 
 under such circumstances, would be to receive me as in 
 some sort with a perjured heart, and no blessing could fol- 
 low such acknowledged filial disobedience. I have there- 
 21* 
 
246 BLOOM AND BRIER. 
 
 fore thought it would be best for your happiness, at least, 
 and possibly for my own, that we — dissolve — the promise 
 we are under to each other, and try and forget it." 
 
 "Laura, my dear ♦Laura," said he, greatly excited and 
 seizing both her hands in his, " are your heart-strings made 
 of steel that you can sweep them so rudely, or expect to 
 hush their deep throbbingsby such rough handling; and to 
 crush, too, your first affection as you say this is, and as I 
 know it to be to a mere idea — a conscientious scruple as 
 you call it? This is superstition, not reverence; fear, not 
 love. I, too, have a high reverence for filial obedience, but 
 still I think the obligation mutual. Obedience should not 
 be exacted at an entire sacrifice of feeling — particularly, 
 when demanded at the suggestion — I must say it — of wil- 
 fulness and prejudice. When all the facts are well known 
 to the younger parties, control presently passes from the 
 parent's hand. Nature more clearly points out the way 
 than reason." 
 
 " Oh ! cousin, speak no unkind word of my mother : she 
 does not deserve it — indeed she does not." 
 
 "Nor do you deserve to be held in this strange position. 
 I do appreciate all of her high and kind qualities ; but still 
 I think her pushing her authority to an unwarranted limit. 
 At best, she can but wither up your feelings, she cannot 
 direct them, or control them." 
 
 "She has exercised no undue authority, cousin. She 
 has only expressed her opinions, her feelings, and her 
 wishes." 
 
 " I grant you ; but then she knows such expression is 
 equal to authority with you, or she would endeavor to do 
 more. If this is not so, Laura, then you alone are responsi- 
 ble for your course, and as you do not desire your mother's 
 consent, I cannot ask yours ; but just take it for granted, 
 that you have heretofore mistaken your own feelings, and 
 let us in all truth dissolve the promise forever / '' 
 
BLOOM AND BRIER. 247 
 
 These words sounded, indeed, much like a last fiircwcll, 
 as he released her hands; which falling motionless to her 
 side, she stood before him with an ashen paleness on her 
 cheek, and, without even the utterance of a sigh, sank down 
 to her chair. With a mixed look of vacancy and wild 
 despair she gazed him in the face, with that expression of 
 helpless reproach which only a soft eye and a breaking 
 heart ever assume. 
 
 Brandon, seeing the strange effects of his words, quickly 
 drew to her side, and pressed his cheek to hers as he again 
 took her hand in his. Seeming to revive, she said: 
 
 "Oh! cousin, cousin! what must I do! what can I do?" 
 
 The truth was, that trained up as she had been, obedience 
 to her mother was not only a law unto her life but a part 
 of her religion ; and she had promised her, after a severe 
 conflict between obedience and affection, that she would 
 break up the engagement which existed between herself 
 and Henry Brandon. But she had done so, not without a 
 lingering hope that she might still occupy some relation to 
 him, through which a future arrangement could be effected. 
 She had not realized the full force of the promise to her 
 mother ; and above all, did not know the full extent of her 
 affection for Henry Brandon, until she saw the tie between 
 them about to sever. This she was not prepared for — 
 could never be. 
 
 Henry Brandon looked deep down into her clear, inno- 
 cent eye, and saw nothing there but girlhood's maiden love, 
 as she asked him the question in the soft tones of sweet 
 appeal. In an instant, all the fiery energy of his heart rose 
 to his lips and, in low but earnest language, said : 
 
 " Laura, I scarcely know what to tell you ; but this I 
 feel, that I cannot quietly yield up the longest hope of my 
 life, nor can I now shut out from my soul the gentle star 
 that has ever floated in the far-off heaven, and by its silver 
 light guided the wayward walk of boy and man in the 
 
248 BLOOM AXD BEIER. 
 
 paths of peace and safety, joy and love ; only say once 
 more that your heart is mine, and no earthly thing or word 
 shall throw a shadow on the sunlight of my life." 
 
 At. these impassioned words of Henry, a joyous bright- 
 ness came back to her eye, and the delicate blush of maiden 
 feeling again bloomed upon her youthful face ; and rising 
 from her seat, with an animation that told of a partially 
 regained confidence and happiness, which but a few min- 
 utes before had appeared fled, she asserted with a spirit she 
 had not previously shown — 
 
 ** Cousin, by all the chaste laws of woman's love, and by 
 all that is sacred in a woman's truth and virtue, my heart 
 is only yours — no other has ever made a passing impress 
 there. The spraying stream of childhood, and that where 
 the brook and river meet of girl and womanhood, have 
 never, on their glittering currents, borne any other bark 
 than that which promised to bear me on the great ocean 
 of life, with Henry Brandon at my side ; and when in my 
 sleeping dreams or waking visions that bark passes beyond 
 my sight, life becomes one great sea of madness, darkness, 
 and despair." Then placing her hand softly upon his arm, 
 in all the confidence of boundless affection, she continued : 
 " But with that in view, a picture floats before me, in which 
 the waves are all calm, the earth all bright, and the skies 
 all blue. In these moments, the probable storms of life, 
 and all vicissitude, are shorn of their sti-ength, and robbed 
 of their terrors. Now, forgive me, cousin, for thus express- 
 ing to you the deep and glowing emotions of my heart- 
 life — they have ever clustered around your name, and you 
 are entitled to know them." 
 
 This demonstration of feeling from Laura, under the 
 particular circumstances, seemed to give his heart a joy it 
 had never known before ; and smiling with the thought of 
 possessing the undivided love of so noble, so pure, and so 
 grand a girl, a thousand generous and manly resolves 
 
BLOOM AND BRIER. 249 
 
 rushed to his heart. Laura again broke the silence, which 
 he seemed powerless to do, by saying : " And now you know 
 me, cousin, and whatever I have appeared or may appear in 
 future, I yet have ever been what I say I am to-day; and 
 what I am to-day, I will ever be ! Remember that ! and 
 now, I will prefer you not meeting father or mother to-day ; 
 you nor I can effect anything now ; prospects may brighten 
 of themselves. I w^ill now excuse you and let you go, which 
 they will think quite natural," at the same time extending 
 him her hand, with an effort to smile at the innocent ruse 
 she was practising. Henry Brandon laughed a low joyous 
 laugh, as he caught the unsuspecting girl in his arms and 
 kissing her now ruby lips, tripped lightly from the house, 
 and mounting his horse rode swiftly away. 
 
 All right now thought the gay and happy Henry Bran- 
 don. But who yet hath ever cast the horoscope of Love? 
 We shall see whether he did or not. 
 
 A^ 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVIL 
 
 " Let me have men about me that are fat, 
 Sleek-headed men, and such as sleep o' nights." 
 
 S Henry Brandon wildly galloped his horse over the 
 . gently rolling prairie, his bosom throbbed with all the 
 tumultuous emotions which the scenes he had that morning 
 passed through, were well calculated to inspire. Hope, 
 doubt, and fear, alternately held supremacy. He could not 
 see why his suit with Laura should fail, yet could not real- 
 ize that it would succeed. The charm had been broken, 
 and he feared the consequences. He, however, tried to com- 
 fort himself with his usual careless sort of philosophy, 
 and said to himself, " I'll trust to fortune, and take the 
 
250 BLOOM AND BRIER. 
 
 chances as they rise; and well I may — I can do nothing 
 more, ha! ha! ha! " Then turning to Sam, he said : 
 
 " Well, how did matters look to-day, Sam ? " 
 
 " Right hot, I tell you. Mass Henry, accordin' to Sally's 
 'count of it." 
 
 " You don't think there is much chance for master or 
 man with mistress or maid, there ? " 
 
 " I don't know as I zactly understans you, sir ; but they 
 ain't much chance, if that's what you mean — things ain't 
 goiu' right, but Sally says Miss Laura is hard to give up, 
 and Miss Lucy stans right up to her ; but Miss Catherine 
 is strong agin you." 
 
 "How about Uncle Robert?" 
 
 " She says he don't say a word for you, nor agin you, 
 and won't listen to the talk ; but Sally says you will win 
 if you holds on — if you will play right smart." 
 
 " Yes ; but smart does n't do much good in such cases, 't is 
 all luck, Sam ! " 
 
 "You is zactly right 'bout that — for what is to be will 
 be, and I don't care what anybody does." 
 
 " That 's so, Sam." 
 
 " Mass Henry, Miss Laura is one of the nicest young 
 ladies they is ; but I wouldn' let nobody make sich a fuss 
 'bout me, as Miss Catherine is makin' about you. J says, 
 go somewhar else — just as good fish in the sea, as was ever 
 cotch out." 
 
 " Yes ; I expect it will turn out that way at last ; but 
 let 's ride faster, Sam, and get home to dinner." 
 
 Henry Brandon passed several days at home, after his 
 customary fashion, hunting, riding over the neighborhood, 
 jcud several times visiting his cousins. Mrs. Brandon w^as 
 under the impression that the engagement between Laura 
 and him was finally broken up, and was therefore rather 
 disposed to receive him after her old fashion ; but kept, as 
 she thought, very close watch, and not unfrequently alluded 
 
 ■ ? 
 
BLOOM AND BRIER. 251 
 
 to the bad results of marria2;es entered into without proper 
 consideration. By the advice and recpiest of Laura, he 
 showed no temper in regard to what had happened, and thus 
 threw her completely off the track. 
 
 The evening before the appointed time for going to the 
 gander-pulling had at length arrived, and Henry gave full 
 directions to Sam about being ready to go with him, by the 
 time breakfast was over with. 
 
 "Yes, sir; I'll have everything right; but, Mass Henry, 
 what is a gander-puUin ? I has never hearn of sich a 
 thing." 
 
 " AVell, I can't exactly explain it to you — just wait, you 
 will see it ; but don't you speak of it among the servants. 
 I don't wish it to get out where I am going, or where we 
 have been when we return." 
 
 " No, s-i-r ; this chap would lose his ole woolly head 'fore 
 he'd tell anything whar you is concerned — I say tell." 
 
 The following morning Mrs. Brandon saw Sam bringing 
 out the horses, and inquired of her son where he was going, 
 that he should leave so early. 
 
 " I thought that I would ride down to the Hills to-day, 
 as I have nothing to do. I have some curiosity to see how 
 my old haunts look after four years' absence." 
 
 " Ah ! such places and visits will do well enough for a 
 boy, probably, but not for a grown man, my son ; such 
 jaunts are looked on as frolics, and the world will not per- 
 mit men to frolic, with impunity, and if you wish to suc- 
 ceed by its assistance, you must regard its prejudices — if 
 you choose so to call its opinions." 
 
 " Mother, I regard your opinion more than any one's on 
 earth, and you know that I have never had any purpose 
 in visiting those people beyond a mere desire of innocent 
 amusement ; and as to what is called the world, let me 
 assure you that I do not value its opinion three jack-straws. 
 I intend never to do a wrong, but will do just as I please, 
 
252 BLOOM AXD BRIEPw. 
 
 and am perfectly willing for the world to do the same. If 
 the world can do without me, I am vain enough to think I 
 can do without the world ; and this thing called public 
 opinion is but little else than an expression of the conceit, 
 ignorance, and prejudice of the common multitude, and is 
 really the source of nine-tenths of the troubles of life. I had 
 rather know, in my old age, that I had, even for one day 
 only, defied the opinion of all the sublime and solemn 
 fools of society, than to be the recipient of any honors they 
 can confer." 
 
 "I must have touched you on some tender spot, my son," 
 said his mother, smiling, "as you appear to have had your 
 homily all prepared — so I will say no more ; but let me 
 ask you not to remain there to-night." 
 
 " No, madam ; not if I can well get back ; but I may 
 stay, as you know those people used to make quite a pet 
 of me, and if I am still as popular, I may remain." 
 
 " Yes, your popularity got you a very wild name — one 
 that will cling to you forever." 
 
 "Well, mother, I expect I deserve it, and I must consent 
 to abide by it." 
 
 " I know you will have your way, Henry ; but there are 
 other eyes on you than mine, who will not judge you so 
 leniently." 
 
 " To whom do you allude, mother ? — my dear aunt ? " 
 
 " My remark is a general one ; you may make a partic- 
 ular application of it, if you w^ill." 
 
 "I will just then make that application of it, and tell 
 you that I imagine myself just as badly damaged there as 
 I can ever be." 
 
 At these words he walked out of the house, and, in a few 
 moments more, was on his horse. When he reached the 
 appointed place of meeting, he found Dr. Wilton already 
 there. Exchanging salutations, they immediately galloped 
 off, and reached Manese's about 11 o'clock. Miller was 
 
BLOOM AND BRIER. 253 
 
 already there, accompanied by quite a number of his 
 immediate comrades, and was expecting Henry Brandon. 
 As the latter rode up. Miller met him, expressing great 
 pleasure at seeing him. 
 
 Henry Brandon, as we have said, had known nearly 
 every one that was present, in his younger days; and the 
 old acquaintance was now renewed by each one coming 
 and shaking hands, and passing a few pleasant words with 
 him. Seeing that Henry had pretty well gone the rounds, 
 Miller, in a loud voice intended for all to hear, said : 
 
 "Come into the grocery now, boys, and take a 'smile' 
 at my expense ; " and then saying, in rather an under-tone, 
 " come, Henry, let 's you and I take something thin to- 
 gether for the sake of ' auld lang syne.' " 
 
 "I will take a 'wee dhrap' with you, Miller, on that 
 score, but I have never yet learned to drink." 
 
 " Nor had I, Henry, until just before that dreadful dif- 
 ficulty ; but since then I am as regular to my grog as a pig 
 to his tracks, and I am free to say, that had it not been for 
 whiskey, there would never have been anything of it. 
 Drunkenness is the big curse of the world ; it 's all habit, 
 and the damnedest, meanest, lowest, worst of all habits, 
 and if God will help me, I shall forever quit it after 
 to-day." 
 
 " How are you intending to proceed. Miller, to get out 
 of this difficulty?" 
 
 " I scarcely know — but I am now getting up money to 
 leave with, and to assist these poor boys, whom I unfortu- 
 nately have involved in it, with me ; but they appear to 
 care less for it than I do, which is some consolation to me ; 
 and if I am not disturbed for the next ten days, I will be 
 able to get them off. I dislike leaving in this manner on 
 account of my old mother ; but for the killing of Hall, I 
 rejoice at it, and only wish he had a hundred lives, that I 
 22 
 
254 BLOOM AND BRIER. 
 
 might take every one of them, for at the moment I shot 
 him, he -was cutting my old father with a bowie-knife." 
 
 " Where do you expect to go to, Miller?" 
 
 " Oh, to Texas, or Arkansas, where all the outlaws go, 
 and then get my fool's brains shot out in less than a month 
 by some desperado, I expect." 
 
 " How many of your friends will go with you ? " 
 
 " Only some two or three, as the others haye as yet done 
 nothing that the law can get hold of." 
 
 At this moment, a tall, fine-looking fellow — being no 
 other than Jack Gaulding, who had sent him the inyita- 
 tion — stepped up, and said, "Henry, you have just got 
 back with a great college edecashun ; but I 'm afeard the 
 damned sheriff will run us boys all outen the country 'fore 
 we can give you a lift." 
 
 " Xo, no, I hope not, on your own account, Jack, to say 
 nothing of mine." 
 
 " But there is danger of it, certain as you live." 
 
 "Not so durn much. Jack, as mout be supposed. Thar 's 
 some of the old blue hens' chicks will stay to the last day 
 in the mornin', and see the triflin' devils out," said fighting 
 Bob Mosely. 
 
 "That's my hand, Fighting Bob," said Wire-grass John 
 Holmes ; " thar 's nuthin' kin make me leave 'ceptin' its 
 wimin, and they must be over forty." 
 
 "That's so," responded some six or seven who were stand- 
 ing round, w'ith a hearty laugh. 
 
 " Yes, you is true to wimin an' your friends," said Lazy 
 Farl Bowen. " By my mother's suck, you talk to my 
 notion." 
 
 "I am greatly obleged to you. Lazy Farl," answered 
 Wire-grass ; "but you are too durned slow to git outen the 
 way of either man or woman — but no insult, Farl." 
 
 "But here's one that ain't afraid to go or stay," said a 
 small but well-made chap, with a flashing blue eye and 
 
B L O () M A N I> H R I K R . 25o 
 
 very red hair. " 1 iiin the little red cock that crows for 
 day at the old widder Higgiiis's house ; and lets no dung- 
 hill walk his walk, or tote his hens — no s-i-r-ee, he don't." 
 
 *' Oh! you are jokin' now — the biggest sort," said Yaller 
 Bill Skipper. 
 
 " A-jokin' ! the hell, I never jokes on sich subjicks when 
 wimin is in vogue." 
 
 " What wimin are you talkin' about?" 
 
 " Darned ef I know ; but look a-here, Yaller Bill, do you 
 wish to pass any insinuations ? ef a row is what you want, 
 old fell', just shuck your dry goods, and you can git it at 
 the shortest notice." 
 
 The crowd immediately gathered round, for the purpose 
 of seeing the fight, but leaving a sufficient hollow circle 
 for the combatants, when Dick Wixx from the outside of 
 the crowd called out, asking in his well-known manner : 
 
 " What in the hell are you wild-cats at, in there — you, 
 you red-headed cuss. I say, if I hear another word out of 
 your dirty little fly-trap, I '11 come in there, and cut round 
 the skin of your neck, and unjint your head. I will, damn 
 me, and fire burn me." 
 
 This had the effect of drawing off all attention from the 
 proposed combatants to Dick Winn, with a roar of laugh- 
 ter, which, in a rough-and-tumble fight such as we used to 
 have, amounted to breaking it up. 
 
 " Well, Uncle Dick, as that ar' you, that makes those re- 
 marks, you can say it, as you is a privileged char-ec-ter ; 
 but no one else can say the same, I '11 he durned." 
 
 " Well, that 's good enough — all settled ; and now, men," 
 said he in a loud voice, '* no fights will be expected tillthe 
 gander-pulling is over, and you had better keep your cour- 
 age for the sheriff, who I expect will be here to-day, any- 
 how ; but anyways, after the pulling is over with, we shall 
 expect to have, at least, twenty first-class fights, and several 
 eyes lying about loose on the ground, and as many ears and 
 
256 BLOOM AND BRIER. 
 
 noses ; and rather than fall short of the number, I '11 agree 
 to mail the dog-water out of five or six of you myself — do 
 you understand the programme now ? — dang it ! And now, 
 every fellow have his horse ready for the ride against his 
 name is called." He then cried out to the crowd, and in- 
 formed them that Henry Brandon, Miller, and himself had 
 been appointed judges. 
 
 Miller immediately declined, and asked Dr. Wilton to 
 act in his place, as he wished to ride, or would be expected 
 to do so, as he had got up the sport. The Doctor accepting, 
 Dick Winn called them together and instructed them in 
 their duties. Dick himself, and the Doctor, were to judge 
 the goose stakes, and Henry Brandon was to act at the 
 starting-point. 
 
 Twenty riders had already entered their names at a dol- 
 lar a-piece. These were soon stripped for the ride, and stood 
 ready to hear their names called, which Henry Brandon 
 was to do after drawing them from a hat. 
 
 " Gander -pulling" was one of the many muscular pas- 
 times practised in the days of chivalry on festive occasions, 
 and was long traditional in the South as one of the sports 
 of their Korman ancestry ; and as one of the thousands 
 of small evidences of the difference in — race, between the 
 Korthern and Southern people. 
 
 Whether this account be correct or not, it is yet histor- 
 ical. And while the Northern people were severe in their 
 laws against the kissing of young girls by their lovers, 
 whipping cider-barrels for working on Sunday, burning old 
 women for witches, and inventing facial and thumb screws 
 for the torture of freshly imported African slaves, and 
 groaning under the whiniugs of some brutal "gospeller," 
 the Southern people were having their deer-drives, their 
 fox-chases, cock-fights, gander- pulling s, balls, dances, and 
 duels. 
 
 More latterly, while their temples rang with prayers for 
 
BLOOM A N D li K 1 E R . 257 
 
 the opprcss«<l negroes, and indulging in seli-laudatious for 
 their surpassing virtue and intelligence, their Avhole land 
 teemed >vith bastardy, child -murder, free- lovcism, Mor- 
 monism, model artists, Black-Crook exhibitions, brothels, 
 and assignation, and iu every other manner of crime that 
 even makes hell itself blush in modest shame. On the other 
 hand, let the truth be told. Even after every degradation 
 and ^Yrong, which the North, in the truculent exercise of 
 power has inflicted, the Southern people themselves began a 
 course of harassment and persecution, almost unparalleled 
 iu the history of any decent people. It seemed to be the wish 
 of a few men to deprive all others of their homes and the 
 last vestige of property, iu liquidation of debts created 
 under an entirely difterent state of affairs, and which there 
 was subsequently, and now, no possible chance of meeting; 
 and this we consider quite as criminal as anything the 
 North had ever been guilty of, and far more unfeeling. 
 
 To all of this there was an exceptional class on either 
 side, and upon this exceptional class will devolve the 
 future peace and welfare of this continent — not govern- 
 ment. 
 
 To revert to " gander-pulling" there is to say, that it 
 continued to be one of the popular sports of the South 
 among the humble classes until within the last half-cen- 
 tury. Since then it has measurably passed out of practice. 
 This was the only one the writer ever witnessed, and the 
 scene of it was at a little country grog-shop on the public 
 
 highway leading from , on a level stretch of the road, 
 
 about four hundred yards in length. And as, perhaps, many 
 of my readers have never seen anything of the kind, it may 
 not be uninteresting to learn something of the arrangement. 
 About two hundred yards from the starting-point were two 
 posts set into the ground deep enough to secure steadiness, 
 and leaving them about fourteen feet above-ground and 
 twenty feet apart. From the tops of these two posts was 
 
258 BLOOM AXD BRIER. 
 
 stretched a very strong rope, and from the middle of this 
 the gander himg suspended by the feet, the head and neck 
 having most of the feathers removed, and then well greased. 
 This completed the arrangement so far as the gander was 
 to play a part. ]Men were then placed all along at short 
 intervals, with good whips in their hands, from the start- 
 ing-point to the goose-poles. Judges then took positions at 
 the poles at either end. The rider was then started at the 
 upper poles, at the words " Are you ready ? — go ! " It 
 now became the business of every whipper to strike the 
 horse as he passed, in order to keep him at the top of his 
 speed, and as the rider rode under the gander, for him to 
 make an effort to catch the head. Between the well-greased 
 condition of the head and the fowl dodging when caught 
 at, it was difficult either to get or to keep hold of it. The 
 duty of the judges at the poles was to decide on foul whip- 
 ping or any other unusual circumstance ; whipping being 
 considered foul if done anywhere but on the rear parts 
 of the horse. 
 
 At two o'clock precisely, on this occasion, the sport began. 
 
 "All ready — down here!" sung out Dick Winn. "Draw 
 your rider, Brandon — dang me ! " 
 
 Dick Winn, though associating with the class of men we 
 here find him with, was very far their superior, both in 
 intelligence and position, and was truly a representative 
 man in many respects as regards Southern character. He 
 was an enthusiastic politician, and as well known as any 
 private citizen of the country; with education he Avould 
 have been equal to most civil positions, and was even so 
 almost without it. His opinions were forcible, fearless, and 
 highly respected ; his observation was shrewd, and his lan- 
 guage, always quaint, was either caustic and direct, or ram- 
 bling and humorous, as occasion called for. His knowledge 
 of character was intuitively correct. His industry and en- 
 ergy gave him command of very considerable means, and 
 
BLOOM AND BRIER. 259 
 
 his home presented all the advantages of great ease and 
 abundance, and was often the scene of convivial entertain- 
 ment for his friends. He loved his fun, as he called it, 
 and would go into any place that promised to furnish it: 
 having that almost perfect fearlessness essential to the enjoy- 
 ment of a frolic, he never failed to secure it, regardless of all 
 consequences. His face was manly and handsome, his person 
 strong, and his temper, though bold and defiant, was placable 
 and generous. "While he could be serious, earnest, and severe, 
 he was yet generally in a pleasing mood, and had a pleasant 
 word for all. These qualities made him a fast friend to 
 others, and others to him, and gave him the position of a 
 leader in his neighborhood, whenever a leader was wanted. 
 
 " Here 's my gander spilin' for a mate ! Send on your 
 goose, Brandon, dang it ! " he again cried out, as the latter 
 was placing the names in a hat. 
 
 Jack Gaulding's was the first drawn, and when called 
 for, came riding up on his horse " bareback," his bridle 
 wrapped securely round his wrist, with one hand free 
 wherewith to catch at the gander's head. 
 
 "Here I am on terry finny, and ready for the row," said 
 Jack, as he took position. 
 
 " Are you ready ? " cried out Henry Brandon. 
 
 " Ready ! " 
 
 " Go ! " 
 
 At the word the first whipper struck his horse, and away 
 he flew, each whipper striking him as he passed. It was 
 but a few seconds before Jack was under the gander, but 
 missed the prize. 
 
 " All right — a fair ride! but here swings my gander, live 
 and kicking — no, fluttering. Send on another of your 
 Bossum heels, Henry ; I 'm on expenses, dang it!" 
 
 "Pedlar Jim" was next called for, and rode through 
 with no better success. 
 
 And thus through all the entries. The whole sport waa 
 
260 BLOOM AND BRIER. 
 
 now to begin again, and was repeated several times before 
 any one had secured the prize — with various accidents to 
 both horses and riders, which indeed seemed to furnish a 
 large part of the entertainment. 
 
 In this manner the evening had passed nearly away, 
 when a large portion of the company left for their own 
 homes, leaving only those who were going to the Ball. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXYIIL 
 
 " Here are we met, three merry boys, 
 Three merry boys I trow are we." 
 
 TWILIGHT had not more than set in, when the young 
 people from all the neighborhood began arriving for 
 the ball, and by the time it was starlight the house was 
 crowded. A fiddle, tambourine, and triangle were soon in 
 full blast, and the cry sung out of " Git your pardners ! " 
 by no less a person than Dick Winn, whom old Manese 
 had requested to act as general manager. " Dr. Wilton 
 and Henry Brandon from the prairies have first choice, 
 gentlemen — by reason of hospitality ; and then you fellows 
 from the hills take second." This last regulation was of 
 Dick's o^vn conceiving, and announced in his own peculiar 
 manner, but assented to without an opposing voice. 
 
 Henry now introduced Dr. Wilton to May Walters, the 
 sister of Xanny, whom Henry Brandon had already en- 
 gaged as his partner. 
 
 Nanny and May Walters were twin sisters, and were 
 nearly the same age with Henry Brandon. They were old 
 acquaintances of his, having known them before he left 
 for college, and this was the first time he had met them 
 since his return, and still found them to be the same pic- 
 tures of rustic beauty. 
 
BLOOM AND BKIER. 261 
 
 All classes of society have their *' belles," and Nanny 
 and May Walters were the belles of the circle in which 
 they moved — holding that enviable position in virtue of 
 their beauty, intelligence, and industry. 
 
 They were tall, graceful, and well develojDcd in their 
 figures, and were light but rich brunettes in complexion ; 
 their eyes were dark, lustrous, and instinct with life and 
 joyousness ; their full suit of dark, glossy hair most su- 
 perbly matched their eyes and complexion — which being 
 dressed loosely, gave it all the advantage which nature had 
 evidently bestowed — but being fastened securely, gave it 
 all the tidiness of thorough attention and dress. 
 
 As we have said, these two girls had been great favorites 
 with Henry Brandon, in the dashing wild days of his boy- 
 hood ; and they had prepared themselves with great care, 
 with the expectation of meeting him at the dance, knowing 
 that he had been invited, and supposing that he would of 
 course be there, if not greatly changed in his character. 
 They were dressed in the highest style of those fashions 
 which are peculiar to that class of girls, and kept up year 
 after year, with but little reference to the changes in the 
 fashionable and higher circles of society ; and in most re- 
 spects far more graceful and flowing, than those which fre- 
 quently, not only embarrass the movements, but ridicu- 
 lously disfigure the forms of young girls in the more dis- 
 tinguished coteries. Among the former, the sesthetics of dress 
 is based upon its adaptability to the human form — nature 
 is their only guide — as they have little or no access to 
 those circumstances which engender morbidity; and too 
 frequently, not only vitiate taste in this, but in far greater 
 matters. 
 
 A large "set" was now out on the floor. The dance 
 was an old-fashioned Scotch reel, and as Henry and Nanny 
 led off*, Dick AVinn, who as we have said was master of the 
 ceremonies, spoke out loud enough for every one to hear: 
 
262 BLOOM AND BRIER. 
 
 " Come down to it manly, Henry Brandon ; you are 
 among your friends, and dancing on your same old punch- 
 eon, with the nicest gal, too, in this neck of woods. Ain't 
 he, Nanny ? " 
 
 Henry answered for both, by replying that Xanny was 
 floating on the wings of the wind, and that he was doing 
 his handsomest. 
 
 " All right — go a-head ! after your own fashion ; but 
 cut and come again ! remember that hind-foot foremost is 
 the figure — ain't it, Nanny ?" 
 
 Henry found time to get back and cross to Nanny, for 
 the purpose of having some little talk with her, which he 
 began by saying : " Nanny, I had never expected to dance 
 with you again as a single girl ; but here you are, as pretty 
 and fresh as ever, and I dancing with you too ; but tell me 
 how it is that as pretty a girl as you has never married. 
 Can't capture any of these wild boys ? " 
 
 The color seemed to leave Nanny's cheek for a moment, 
 as she said, " They are too wild. You can't keep one after 
 you catch him." 
 
 "Well, there is some mystery about it, which I shall 
 inquire into. When I came here to-night, I almost ex- 
 pected to have your oldest daughter for a partner ; but here 
 you are, prettier and brighter than ever, and single still." 
 
 "Why, sir, I am not as old as you are — have you 
 brought a son old enough for me, or for such a daughter 
 to dance with ? And if you must know, maybe I will tell 
 you, wdiy I did not get married before this," 
 
 " Yes, tell me." 
 
 " Well, it was just because I wanted to see you once 
 more, dance with you once more, and talk with you : after 
 this I am ready. Do you know any clear, sensible, indus- 
 trious young fellow, that would be likely to fall in love 
 with as pretty a girl as I ? " 
 
 " Many a one. I take all such chances myself." 
 
BLOOM AND BRIER. 263 
 
 " Yes, I believe you do ; but if I tell you a little secret, 
 will you ever tell it? very few ever even suspected it." 
 " No, not unless you give me permission." 
 "Well — now remember, I have never told any one but 
 ;May and mother. I have been engaged to Robert Miller 
 there, for over a year ; but he has got to be so wild, and got 
 into such trouble, that I had to break it up. I have got 
 afraid of him." 
 
 "Really afraid of him?" 
 
 " Yes, really afraid of him. Now, would you marry a 
 icoman that you were really afraid of?" 
 " No." 
 
 " Well, I can't marry a man that I am afraid of. He has 
 frightened every bit of love I ever had for him away from 
 me. I don't love him, and I 'm sorry for it." 
 
 " I am sorry Bob has got into such habits, but he says 
 he intends to quit them after this." 
 
 « Yes — I know ; but still I am afraid of him. I can't 
 • risk him. But never mind, that is all over with. I don't 
 love him. Now, I want to know why you did not speak 
 to me last f^ill, up at Gregory's Spring, when your uncle 
 epoke there. I Went there almost entirely just to see you, 
 and you passed right close by me, and did not speak. I 
 never felt so mortified in all my life, and I have been mad 
 with you a little bit ever since." 
 
 " On my honor I never saw you ; were you really there, 
 Nanny?" 
 
 " I was, indeed ; I wanted to hear Mr. Brandon speak, 
 because you know we are all Whigs down here— just as 
 everybody else did ; and then I had heard you had come 
 back, and just thought I would be so glad to see you, too, 
 and to see if you were so handsome and pleasant as you 
 used to be ; but, oh ! how you cut me. I tried to forgive 
 you though ; for you had two such beautiful young girls 
 
264 BLOOM AND BRIER. 
 
 with you, that I knew poor Kanny Walters had no busi- 
 ness even looking that way." 
 
 " Poor Nanny Walters, indeed ! You are one of the 
 prettiest girls I ever saw, and you know I think so; and 
 if I had seen you, I should have left a queen to speak to 
 you, and I reckon would have done just what I am going 
 to do now," and as he said this, bent down and kissed the 
 rosy lips of the lovely country girl. 
 
 It was done so suddenly that there was no time for re- 
 sistance on her part, even if she would have made any ; as 
 it was, however, she only slapped him coquettishly on the 
 face, but blushed deeply when she discovered that Robert 
 Miller, her old beau, had seen it. Henry "Brandon had 
 not intended to be seen, and thought from the intentness 
 with which the dancers were engaged that he would not ; 
 but poor Miller had scarcely taken his 5yes off of her from 
 the time he entered the house, and with any one else might 
 have made it the cause of some words ; as it was, he only 
 said : " Ah ! Henry, at your old tricks," 
 
 " Yes, Bob ; and now that I have set you the example, it 
 is your own fault if you do not follow it." 
 
 " I '11 do it, Henry, if I die for it." 
 
 At the time, he was dancing with little Betty Lane, a 
 pretty little blue-eyed lass of eighteen summers, who, when 
 her attention was directed to it, caught a glimpse of Henry 
 Brandon as he kissed Xanny Walters ; and was enjoying 
 the confusion of Nanny, when Miller walked round, and 
 without her even suspecting his purpose, found herself in 
 the same category. 
 
 " Come, gentlemen ; I bar all sich amusements, unless 
 they become gineral," said Jack Gaulding, who had some 
 little claim in regard to Betty Lane. 
 
 " Oh !" said Betty, " Mr. Miller, I had no idea that any- 
 body would do such a thing but Mr. Brandon." 
 
 "Oh! you didn't, hey!" said Dick Winn, in a great 
 
BLOOM AND BRIER. 265 
 
 laugh. "^lyturn next, dang it!" and kissed Samantliy 
 Roberta. 
 
 The dance now became so confused, that Dick gave 
 orders for them all to scat their partners until the excite- 
 ment was over, and kiss them if they could, just to get even. 
 The "set" was soon broken up in a sort of half romp, the 
 young beaux laughing heartily at the girls, for taking to the 
 new fashion so easily. 
 
 " Ah ! Mr. Brandon, the young men have all been so 
 well-behaved for a long time ; but now, you have spoiled it 
 all." 
 
 " Yes ; and not three of you have been married since I 
 was here, and I am going to put you all in motion." 
 
 " Are you going to set the example in that, too ? " 
 
 " Yes, if I can ; " and for the first time that night or 
 day, the sweet fade of Laura Brandon appeared before him. 
 " What would she say," thought he to himself, " if she 
 could only have seen me to-day, and to-night. Hut I can't 
 help it — right or wrong, I'll trust to luck ; " and before he 
 had scarcely finished the thoughts, he dashed along with 
 Nanny Walters in the dance which had again been or- 
 ganized. 
 
 " I thought that was your idea, when I saw you with 
 those pretty girls last fall, and I will let them know how 
 you behave yourself when you get down here, if you dis- 
 turb me again — indeed I will." 
 
 "You will," said he, in a sort of momentary distraction. 
 
 "Yes, I will." 
 
 "Why, what do I misbehave in, Nanny?" 
 
 " Well, you tell us how pretty we are, and how you ad- 
 mire us, and turn all of our heads by flattering us." 
 
 " xVnd by kissiiig you all." 
 
 " Yes," added she, " and by kissing us too, whenever you 
 catch a chance." 
 
 " That would make me more popular, Xanny, and you 
 
266 BLOOM AND BRIER. 
 
 had better not let that get out if you ever wish to see me 
 again as a single man, for some girl would marry me in 
 less than a month — vi et armis, nolens volens.'* 
 
 " Vi et, what?" asked she, laughing. 
 
 "Just as I kissed you to-night — and just as I will do 
 again." 
 
 " Yes, and I will tell how you talk about them, too ! " 
 
 " Yes, and I will tell how you let me kiss you twice in 
 one evening ! " And, while unobserved by any others, 
 quickly placed his arm around her neck, and gave her an- 
 other kiss. 
 
 " Oh, Mr. Brandon ! I have a great notion to leave here, 
 and go straight home to mother." 
 
 " I would follow you if you did, and contradict every 
 word you spoke." 
 
 " "Would you dare dispute ray word?" said she, laughing. 
 
 " Indeed, I would ! " 
 
 " I believe you would. Going to college, I am afraid, 
 has ruined you ; but in earnest, now, you must not do that 
 again ; I would not mind your impudence at home, but 
 these people v»ill speak of it." 
 
 " Oh ! no one saw me, then." 
 
 " No, but they might have. I will not get mad about 
 that if you will behave yourself for the rest of the evening." 
 
 " Very good, provided you will- dance every other set 
 with me during the evening." 
 
 " Yes, I will agree to that, too ; but I am afraid it will 
 make my old friend Robert Miller very jealous — you 
 know men are mighty jealous things." 
 
 "Ah, ha! you have not given Bob up, then?" 
 
 " Yes, he is nothing to me, more than you are, but then 
 — you know — I hate to hurt him." 
 
 " Yes. Well, I will do the best I can ; but don't you 
 look too pretty at me." 
 
 "No." 
 
BLOOM AM) BIMIOR. 2G7 
 
 The evening now passed gayly along with every one, 
 until a late hour, with the exception of our friend Dick 
 Winn, who had his pleasure spoiled by a very unexpected 
 incident — the nature of which we will relate in another 
 chapter. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIX. 
 
 " Kings may be blest, but Tarn was gloriuud, 
 O'er all the ills of life victorious." 
 
 rpiIKRE was at this time, and had been for several weeks, 
 X a distant female relative on a visit to old Manese, who 
 rejoiced in the name of Miss Amelia Simpkins. 
 
 IMiss Amelia was not wanting in good looks, but was 
 hard of hearing, and had passed those years whereat girls 
 are considered young. At her own proper home she was 
 in circumstances sufficient unto her support, but having 
 unfortunately passed the years of girlhood without the in''- 
 cident of matrimony intervening, she had left home really 
 as an adventurer in that great cause, but ostensibly as a 
 teacher, and had learned the happy art of living principally 
 by visiting. Miss Amelia had been jokingly informed by 
 some girls who had found out the leading object of her life, 
 that our old friend Dick Winn was a well-to-do old bach- 
 elor, who lived but a mile or two distant, and that he had 
 expressed a desire to become acquainted with her. After 
 this information had been given her, she had made many 
 unsuccessful efforts to get an introduction to him, but had 
 failed — every girl finding some excuse for not gratifying 
 her ; but she, like all old girls who have not clearly crossed 
 the matrimonial Rubicon, had cultivated her nuptial hopes 
 up to a quicker sensibility, as the time for their gratifica- 
 
268 BLOOM AND BRIER. 
 
 tion seemed pa:5riing away, and they had now reached a 
 sharp climax in regard to Mr. Kichard Winn, the sup- 
 posed well-to-do old bachelor. 
 
 Dick's happy face had, indeed, quite naturally led her to 
 believe that he was a bachelor, and she allowed her matri- 
 monial designs to become enlisted in his behalf. At the 
 particular time seeing him sitting apart from every one, 
 and not engaged in the dance, she could restrain these feel- 
 ings no longer, but stepping up to him said : 
 
 " Mr. Winn, I believe." 
 
 " You are right, madam, W^inn is my name." 
 
 " My name, sir, is Amelia Simpkins. I see, Mr. Winn, 
 that you have not succeeded in getting a partner ; will you 
 excuse the boldness of offering myself, sir ? " 
 
 Dick knowing nothing of who she was, and while think- 
 ing it a very unusual method of getting into a dance, 
 gallantry forbade his refusing to accept — and not being 
 aware of the defect in her hearing, replied in his usual tone 
 and manner : 
 
 "Ah, yes, Miss Amelia Simpkins; but you are mistaken 
 about the partner. I will, however — yes, madam, I will 
 dance — dang it, yes." 
 
 A general titter went round as Dick came up with his 
 partner to join the set, w^hen he saw at once that he had 
 been victimized in some manner, but allowed it to worry 
 him no further than to cause him to ejaculate some three 
 or four times, as if soliloquizing — "dang it." 
 
 The dance at length ended, when Dick joyfully led her 
 to a chair, which she politely declined, expressing a prefer- 
 ence for walking around the room. 
 
 Dick now found himself the object of all observation, and 
 the subject of the suppressed conversation of every one. 
 He yet bore his sufferings manfully by the assistance of an 
 occasional ejaculation of his favorite dang it 
 
 " You are not married, I believe, Mr. Winn ? " 
 
BI.OOJI AND BRIER. 2G9 
 
 " You miss it most damnuhly, madam ; I am very con- 
 siderably into that business." 
 
 " I supposed not. You have not the serious fiice which 
 married gentlemen usually wear ; " saying this with a faint 
 smile of facetiousness. 
 
 " The devil you say, madam. Does a married man have 
 to look serious forever, madam ? dang it ! But perhaps I 
 look so happy because my old wife is not here. Damn it ! 
 I have got dang nigh a dozen chaps of one sort and an- 
 other at my house, madam." 
 
 "So I suppose ; single persons generally love children." 
 
 " Well, I can't say as to that, but I have wellnigh a 
 dozen, I say, of my own that I can remember. Dang 
 it ! not single a great deaJ, that I can see." 
 
 "Yes, I have always loved children, though I have none 
 of my own. The maternal feeling always reigns para- 
 mount in a woman's breast." 
 
 " Perhaps so, madam ; but dang it, you don't appear to 
 understand me." 
 
 " Yes! I was struck with your appearance from the first 
 moment I saw you. People are often drawn to each other 
 from a certain sort of affinity, even when they have never 
 met before." 
 
 "So I would suppose; but as I never dive very deep into 
 such matters, can't say. Damn me! What in the hell 
 did she mean ? " 
 
 " Yes, sir. I feel flattered by your remarks." 
 
 "Oh, not so, madam! Damn it! I have made no par- 
 ticular remarks." 
 
 " Certainly, sir ; I shall be glad to hear you in whatever 
 you have to say." 
 
 "The very hell you will! I think, madam, we don't 
 hear each other. Will you have a seat? Dang it ! " 
 
 Dick had now discovered that Miss Amelia was hard of . 
 hearing, and, rushing to a seat, rather compelled her to take 
 23* 
 
270 BLOOM AND BKIEK. 
 
 it, and with equal precipitation rushed into the crowd, who 
 had now got into convulsions of laughter, having overheard 
 some portions of the conversation. Dick joined in the 
 laugh, and was very anxious to find out which girl it was, 
 who had " sicked " Miss Amelia upon him, as he said. 
 
 Calling Henry Brandon to him, he said : 
 
 " Good-by, Henry, I must leave you, or be married to 
 another wife in thirty minutes, and off for the Mormons 
 by morning. Hal ha! ha! I will — dang it!" 
 
 At this moment Dick seeing his new admirer rise from 
 the seat in which he had placed her, and appearing to come 
 somewhat towards him, dashed out of the hou^e, saying as 
 he went : " Ko, not any. Dang it ! " and was followed by 
 quite a number who knew the joke, with roars of laughter. 
 
 After remaining in one of the out-houses forabouthalf 
 an hour, he ventured back to the dancing-room, and see- 
 ing Henry Brandon, proposed to find the kitchen, and if 
 possible, to get something to eat — and a drink. 
 
 "Why, Winn, I went there w^ith you once to-night, 
 when you got something, and supper will be ready di- 
 rectly." 
 
 "I say supper. Dang it! It's nearly midnight now, 
 and I 've not heard a word of supper." 
 
 In this time not seeing Miss Amelia Simpkins, he had 
 the boldness to enter the house ; but Miss Amelia's eyes 
 were already on the watch for him, and as he said : "I say, 
 got something — three eggs — and one of them not the 
 best," Miss Amelia caught a glimpse of him, and moved 
 directly towards him, when Dick again rushed out, say- 
 ing as he left the house: "Hell and pistareens! Three 
 eggs, and one of them not good, to say the least, is not 
 enough for any well man! Dang it! — with a new sweet- 
 heart ! Damn me ! " 
 
 The night was thus passed off with that joyous hilarity 
 peculiar to the humbler classes of the South, which must 
 
BI.OOM AND BIIIEJI. 271 
 
 be seen to be appreciated, when the ahirni ^Yas given that 
 the house was surrounded by armed men. 
 
 The truth was, that the sheriff', liaving heard tliat ^lanese 
 was that day to give a gander-pulling and a ball, and 
 that Miller was to be there, had come with a company of 
 men, and had so stationed them that he could easily, as he 
 thought, take Miller after the dance was over — while get- 
 ting their horses. The plan might have succeeded had it 
 not been discovered. 
 
 Miller and his friends quickly gathered their arms, and 
 left the house in a body. They had not succeeded in reach- 
 ing their horses, however, before they were hailed, and 
 commanded to stop, to which they replied by a volley from 
 their pistols in the direction of the voices. The firing was 
 returned, and followed up from each side by repeated dis- 
 charges. This being rather more than either party had 
 expected, both retreated. Miller's men were soon mounted, 
 and as they left, Miller, himself, cried out: "Farewell, 
 friends! fi^rewell, Henry Brandon! farewell, Xanny!" and 
 after that night was never known to be in the State. 
 
 After the firing had begun, the whole company left the 
 house in the greatest confusion. The girls, being terribly 
 frightened, and screaming for protection, seized on the first 
 man who fell in their way. Dr. Wilton and Henry Bran- 
 don were, at the time, dancing with May and Nanny 
 Walters. In an instant, the girls seized them by the arm, 
 and begged to be taken home, and just as they left the 
 door, a flying shot passed through the coat sleeve of Henry 
 Brandon, slightly wounding him. He then called for 
 " Sam " to come up with the horses. The latter answered 
 some distance off, and told him to "come to me, Mass 
 Henry, the bosses wount go a step dat way." 
 
 "Can't you come up a little, man? " asked Henry, in a 
 loud, impatient voice. 
 
 " No, sir. De bosses, I say, wount budge a feet dat way." 
 
272 BLOOM AND BRIER. 
 
 "You are a lying coward, sir; I know they will." 
 
 "No, sir; I swar dey wount move dat way — an you 
 ought to know it, Mass Henry." 
 
 Brandon saw that it was impossible to get him to come 
 up, and said to the Doctor that they would have to go there. 
 
 Witli the two terror-stricken girls still holding on to 
 them, they went in search of " Sam " and the horses, and 
 found him very securely situated between and behind a 
 clump of large oaks about a hundred yards distant, whose 
 shade made it perfectly dark. After wrapping up the girls 
 in a pair of blankets which " Sam " had brought for his 
 own accommodation, they succeeded in getting mounted by 
 the assistance of " Sam," who now made himself very use- 
 fiil, and were not long in reaching old Mrs. Walters' resi- 
 dence. The old lady was still sitting up waiting for her 
 daughters, by a large fire. The story was soon told, when 
 the good old woman had them a cup of hot coffee, and 
 something to eat. The girls had now recovered from their 
 fright, and seemed well pleased with the adventure — par- 
 ticularly since they had secured two such handsome pro- 
 tectors. 
 
 " Doctor," said Henry Brandon, " did you see what be- 
 came of Dick Winn ? " 
 
 " No ; but just as we left the house I saw him going in." 
 
 "Ah ! you need not be troubled about Mr. Winn, he will 
 take care of himself," said old Mrs. Walters. " This is not 
 the first scrape he was ever in, and came out of safe." 
 
 " No, I know not ; but I should like to have seen Miss 
 Simpkins meet him, about the time they were all rushing 
 out of the house." 
 
 " She did appear to be flying about there, as if she was 
 crazy, and I expect was really looking for him," answered 
 May Walters ; " but then I can't laugh, for I was as badly 
 frightened as she was." 
 
 Henry now suggested that it was getting quite late, and 
 
BLOOM AXD BKIER. 2(6 
 
 they had all better go to bed. Naimy then showed him a 
 room, and as he left, bid them all good-by, as he would leave 
 very early in the morning. 
 
 In the meanwhile "Sam" had succeeded in rousing a 
 negro boy, and getting him to assist in putting away the 
 horses, had got back to the kitchen, when, as some com- 
 pensation to the old cook for his supper, he was giving 
 a most wonderful and exaggerated account of the affair, 
 and the particular part he had played in it. He had al- 
 ready finished his meal, and was ready for his nap, when 
 he capped the climax of his story, by saying: "And I 
 'specks dar is twenty men lyin' about dead in dem woods 
 dis minit," 
 
 "Delaw!" 
 
 " Yes ; but dis nigger ain't one of 'em." 
 
 " I wonder." 
 
 " No ; he ain't dat," and dropped off to sleep. 
 
 When Henry pulled off his coat. Dr. Wilton looked at 
 the wound on his arm, and putting a piece of sticking 
 plaster upon it, pronounced it slight, saying it would get 
 well by first intention. 
 
 " By first or second, it stings like the devil." 
 
 Dick Winn had indeed entered the house, just after the 
 Doctor and Henry Brandon had left it with the Walters 
 girls, and found that every member of the family as well as 
 the company had left, save the veritable Miss Amelia Simp- 
 kins, who had failed to secure a protector, and seemed in 
 great terror. The moment Winn stepped inside the door, 
 she flew to his arms and asked his protection. 
 
 " Well, yes, dang it ; Miss Simpkins, or whatever your 
 name is, I will certainly protect you ; but damn me, madam, 
 if I know what to do with you." 
 
 Without appearing to hear him, but giving a very apt 
 answer, she said : 
 
274 BLOOM AXD BRIER. 
 
 " Oh ! my dear Mr. AVinn, do carry me to your own 
 peaceful home, away from this dreadful place." 
 
 " Yes, dang dreadful place ; but, Bustamente and the 
 devil ! my home might not be so peaceful, if I take you 
 there ! Xo, not much — damn me ! " 
 
 But being unable to make her comprehend him, she 
 still clung to him. 
 
 " Very well — dang it ! I must do something with you, 
 so come on — damn me ! " 
 
 With these words he took her to where his horse was tied, 
 and getting her up behind him, left in the direction of his 
 own home at half speed. About a mile and half from 
 there, lived one of the young girls whom he had suspected 
 of getting him into the scrape ; and as he came up to the 
 gate, saw a bright light in one of the rooms, and giving 
 her to understand that this was his home, assisted her down, 
 and motioned her to the house. Xo sooner did he see her 
 safe at the door, than he said : " Now, dang you. Miss 
 Smarty ! suppose you take her for a while. Come, 'Soap- 
 tail,' " speaking to his horse, " let us get away from this 
 'dreadful place,' as our new sweetheart would say," and 
 rode off at full speed. After getting far enough to be out 
 of danger, he drew the horse up, and began soliloquizing. 
 "Ain't this hell? — gander -pulling, hall, had eggs, Miss 
 Elmina Simpkins — dang — shot at — bursted up gener- 
 ally ! but damn me. Miss — who? — Jinkins! the devil 
 and gourd fiddles ! " and at the thought of Miss Simpkins 
 started " Soaptail " at full speed again, and reached home 
 just as day peeped from the east. 
 
 AVe will now bid farewell to our old friend Dick Winn, 
 knowing that he will make fair weather, as to his where- 
 abouts and doings, even if by telling many truly improbable 
 stories. 
 
BLOOM AND BRIER. 275 
 
 CHAPTER XL. 
 
 " lie is from the South, sir." 
 
 VERY early next morning " Sam Brandon " had the 
 horses ready at old IMrs. Walters' gate, and only 
 waited for his young master and the Doctor, who were not 
 long in getting ready. As they rode along, the various 
 incidents of the previous day and night were talked and 
 laughed over, and no regrets were expressed at the manner 
 of their conclusion. 
 
 Brandon at length said, that he cared for nothing that 
 happened, but getting shot at the " damned place," as he 
 did not know how to get round telling his mother and 
 Violet, and very soon it would be the general neighborhood 
 talk. 
 
 " No," said the Doctor ; " that has got us into a close 
 place, and I imagine about the best way to do is to * own 
 up,* and laugh over it." 
 
 " Yes ; I could manage it all very well, if it were not 
 for my very dignified uncle, and very correct aunt, Mrs. 
 Robert Brandon. They will talk over it as seriously as if 
 I had sinned against the Holy Ghost, in addition to all 
 human morality." 
 
 " Well, Brandon, I see your next trouble, and should 
 like to help you out of it, but my assistance would only help 
 to sink you deeper," said the Doctor, laughing. 
 
 " Yes ; you will have your hands full to take care of 
 yourself. But I feel very w^ell paid, let the matter go as 
 it will. The social aspect which the whole thing presented, 
 very correctly indicates the substratum of Southern char- 
 acter, and sustains it equally in the lower and higher 
 circles. Beside many lighter attributes, there is a feeling 
 
276 BLOOM AND BRIER. 
 
 and a habit of personal resentment among Southern people, 
 which is not seen at the North, An insult here is dealt 
 with at the moment, and by the parties to it, which has the 
 effect of adding to the courtesy of intercourse, by forcing 
 every one to a sense of personal responsibility. This 
 gives dignity and bearing to the individual. The law is 
 never called in to uphold a man's honor, the walking-stick 
 or the bullet settles the trouble. There is no such thing as 
 laying the foundation for a fortune on the damages given 
 for defamation of character. Wounded honor — from the 
 highest to the lowest — dies in its own defence, kills the 
 offender, or gets satisfaction. This is a proud heritage to 
 the son, and he walks through life with a lofty conscious- 
 ness of one who has inherited an untarnished crest, and so 
 intends to transmit it. Now, these fellows that were about 
 to fight yesterday," said Henry, had no heart-burnings, no 
 regrets, no mortifications, for the insulting reflections that 
 each conceived, the other thought, the other wished to 
 pass, because they were the occasion of the other exhibiting 
 his fearlessness. This, at once, half destroyed the difiiculty, 
 while the other half was perfectly subject to control ; and 
 in ten minutes, men, who had been willing to cut each others' 
 throats, were as good friends as ever. Just the opposite 
 to this is the case at the North ; there, the law and jury- 
 box settles everything — the great umpire in every diffi- 
 culty. This breeds contention and cowardice, and makes 
 them a nation, if I may so speak, of scandalizers. To 
 call a man a * damned scoundrel ' at the South, is to get 
 your brains shot out — at the North it is worth a thou- 
 sand dollars. The slander^ of a w4fe or daughter buys a 
 farm, and therefore is rather desired than not. But damn it! 
 this cold wind makes my arm sting. Let 's ride faster, and 
 get out of it." 
 
 They then mended their gait to a brisk gallop, and were 
 not long in reaching St. Clary's Church, their point of 
 
E I. O O M A N D B R r E U . 2 / / 
 
 separation, and promising to meet again very soon, the two 
 young friends bid "good morning." 
 
 Henry had not gone a great way, before " Sam Brandon," 
 who had had no opportunity of speaking to his young 
 master before, in regard to the affairs of the previous day, 
 said: 
 
 " And that was your gander-pullin\ Mass Henry?" 
 
 "Yes ; how did you like it?" 
 
 "Mighty well; but that shootin' like to a bin a bad 
 scrape." 
 
 " Yes ; and you played coward too, Sam." 
 
 " No, sir ; I got out the way, 'cause the bosses wouldn* 
 Stan', and then I had no pistil, nor didn' see nobody to 
 shoot, if I did, an you got away yo'self, ^lass Henry." 
 
 " So I did, Sara ; but don't you tell anything about it, and 
 besides, one of those flying shots hit me." 
 
 "Dar now! I was feared you would get hit; but you 
 didn' git hurt much, did you. Mass Henry ? " 
 
 "Oh, no; just scratched on the arm." 
 
 " I 'm glad of that ; and as for my tellin' anything 'bout 
 your scrapes — no, sir; nary time. I never tells our 
 secrets." 
 
 They soon reached home, where Sara got a subaltern to 
 take his horses, while he went directly to Henry's room, 
 and soon had a fme fire; and when breakfast was an- 
 nounced, Henry went to the dining-room, looking as fresh 
 and gay as though nothing unusual had happened. 
 24 
 
278 BLOOM AND BRIER. 
 
 CHAPTER XLI. 
 
 " "Well, thou wilt be horribly chid to-morrow. ... If thou love me, 
 practise an answer." 
 
 niHE greetings of his mother and sister were particularly 
 JL pleasant, as they met Henry in the breakfast-room, 
 for the reason that his presence was unexpected. In the 
 course of conversation, Mrs. Brandon remarked to her son, 
 that as he was sufficiently near to reach home so early, he 
 might have given them the pleasure of his company the 
 over-night. 
 
 "Yes, madam, I could have done so ; but it was so veiy 
 cold that I deferred it till this morning." 
 
 "Where did you stay, brother ?" asked Violet. 
 
 "At my old friend, Mrs. Walters'." 
 
 " And have you come from there this morning ? " she 
 asked with surprise. 
 
 " I certainly have ; why, is it so great a feat as to cause 
 astonishment?" 
 
 " Yes, indeed, both. I should consider myself entitled to 
 immortal honors. You must have come with the swiftness 
 of a winged Mercury, and so cold too." 
 
 " Yes it was very cold, and we did ride fast.." 
 
 " Your old friends could not have made you welcome, or 
 you certainly would not have left at so unreasonable an 
 hour." 
 
 " Yes, I received a very warm welcome ; that class of 
 people always welcome their friends. 'T is your wealthy 
 people who know how to meet you coldly, and while affect- 
 ing hospitality, virtually ask you to leave." 
 
 " Was it the mother of the pretty twin sisters that you 
 used to talk so glov/ingly of, when you were a boy ? " 
 
 " Yes ; the same." 
 
BLOOM AND BRIER. 279 
 
 " Are the giils single yet, and as pretty?" 
 
 "Yes; both." 
 
 " "We are to suppose, then, that they were the attraction ? " 
 
 " No ; not so much the attraction as the cause." 
 
 " Exphiin your distinction." 
 
 "I will, some Monday morning — this is Sunday." 
 
 "Very good ; well, did you wind up with a dance?" 
 
 " Oh ! quite a frolic." 
 
 " Had they expected you ? " 
 
 " I believe they had." 
 
 "Well, I will ask no more questions, but this one, as I 
 see you begin to think me too inquisitiye. Did any one go 
 with you from this neighborhood?" 
 
 " Why ? do you swiped Hunter f " 
 
 " No, no." 
 
 " Dr. Wilton was with me, sister." 
 
 " Then, I suppose you initiated him into the Elysian 
 merriments of * Hill life ? ' Well, I am glad you enjoyed 
 yourself, and glad you are back ; but you would have en- 
 joyed the day at the church with us yesterday. Nearly all 
 the ladies of the neighborhood were there assisting us to 
 decorate it for Christmas Day, and several gentlemen. 
 Uncle Robert among the number of the latter, and coutsiii 
 Laura with him, of course." 
 
 " Was Lucy there also ? " 
 
 "Oh, yes; I only mention cousin Laura, as you appear 
 to think so much of her." 
 
 " I am sorry then I could not be at both places, but will 
 go with you to-day, if you will ask me." 
 
 " Oh I we will take the greatest pleasure in having you 
 ride with us ; and now that you have half proposed it, I 
 shall insist upon it." 
 
 At the usual hour, Essex had the carriage at the door, 
 and Henry, indeed, rode with them to church. A part of 
 the congregation were already there when Mrs. Brandon's 
 
280 BLOOM AXD BRIER. 
 
 carriage drove up, and were standing about in groups en- 
 joying the warm winter sun. In one of these was Laura 
 Brandon, looking as glowingly beautiful, happy, and ani- 
 mated, Henry thought, as he had ever seen her. As Mrs. 
 Brandon's carriage drove up, Laura immediately came 
 meeting them, not thinking of course that any one was in 
 it but her aunt and Violet ; but when the door was opened, 
 and Henry made a motion to get out, she stepped back in 
 surprise, but, with a merry laugh, instantly said : 
 
 " Cousin, you took me so by surprise that I did not at 
 the instant recognize you. Come, you appear to be awk- 
 ward, let me assist you," and pleasantly offered him her 
 hand. 
 
 Henry accepted the proffered assistance, but gave her 
 his left hand, and thanked her humorously for her assist- 
 ance. 
 
 " You gave me the wrong hand, sir, or I should have 
 waited on you more gracefully." 
 
 " Oh ! it is good enough for him, Laura ; he did not deserve 
 even that, for he was away all day yesterday, and only re- 
 turned this morning." 
 
 " Ah ! where have you been rambling, young gentleman ? " 
 
 " Come, Violet ; you should not tell tales out of school. 
 I will tell you some other day, Laura." 
 
 " Were you at that show, or frolic, or whatever it was, 
 down below, yesterday ? — w^ere you, cousin ? " 
 
 " Yes, I was at one yesterday, Laura ; but hush : you tw^o 
 girls, and mother, are ever on the w'atch after my comings 
 and goings. I am all safe — what more do you want? and 
 equally prepared with the best of you to make the most 
 pious responses," and then said quickly to Laura, as if to 
 change the conversation : " I came to church chiefly to-day, 
 Laura, to criticise your Christmas embellishment, as Violet 
 and you were the principal artists." 
 
 Laura had already seemed to lose the brightness of her 
 
BLOOM AND BRIER. 281 
 
 face, after Henry telling her that he had been to a frolic 
 down in the Hills; but the congregation beginning to enter 
 the church, she made no reply. She had heard her father 
 speak of the gander-pulling to be at Manese's, as the only 
 one he had ever heard of in the State, and express his dis- 
 approbation of such sports; saying further, that Miller 
 had got it up, and it was rumored that the sheriff would 
 be there for the purpose of apprehending him. She there- 
 fore quickly saw that her cousin would be likely to reap a 
 full share of severe censure, as soon as it became known 
 to her mother that he had participated in it. 
 
 After the services in church were over, and the concrre- 
 gation were passing out, she sought the opportunity to 
 get near him, and said to him that she had listened with 
 but indifferent interest to Mr. Jerome that day, from the 
 fact that he had been uppermost in her thoughts all the 
 while. 
 
 "You compliment me highly, Laura, by such a distin- 
 guished preference; what special attribute of mine so en- 
 gaged your reflections ? " 
 
 "I am in no mood for jesting, cousin. I am really 
 troubled. Will you let me ask if you were at that gandei'- 
 pullin gs\)ort, yesterday? You know it will make no dif- 
 ference with me." 
 
 " Then, why do you wish to know, Laura ? " 
 
 "You can very well imagine without putting me to the 
 pain of saying." 
 
 He hesitated for a moment, but thought it best to tell 
 her positively that he was. 
 
 Laura, for a few moments, appeared to lose all conscious- 
 ness of where she was ; and, as Henry Brandon thought, 
 was on the point of giving away to her feelings, when he 
 said quickly: "Come, Laura, let's go out, and I will tell 
 you all about it." 
 
 As they stepped out of the door, they were met by Sally 
 24* 
 
282 BLOOM AND BEIER. 
 
 Morton, who was, as usual, full of life and wit, and con- 
 gratulated them on looking so handsome and so happy ; 
 and in reply to some remark of Henry Brandon, said that 
 the parish could furnish several couples, if the parties could 
 get their consent. 
 
 " Yes," again said Henry ; " but your qualification is a 
 very serious one. Consent is not only difficult to obtain, 
 but more difficult to retain ; so Mr. Jerome and I concluded 
 not long since, in a confidential exchange of ideas — had 
 he never spoken to you on that difficult question, Miss 
 Sally?" 
 
 "No, sir ; not as distinctly, at least, as he and you appear 
 to have discussed it." 
 
 " Perhaps, and I hope it has ceased to be so difficult of 
 solution as it then was; so far as it applies to him at least." 
 
 " I was not aware of his having had any difficulty of the 
 kind, Mr. Barrider." 
 
 *' None, at least, that an officiating priest could not remove 
 — rather a better state of affairs than he seemed to hope 
 for at that time." 
 
 " My dear young friend, I see that you aspire to wit as 
 well as learning." 
 
 " No, no ; only to truth." 
 
 Mr. Jerome, overhearing a portion of the repartee, ap- 
 proached them, and asked if they were getting up the 
 preliminaries to a hostile meeting. 
 
 "No," replied Brandon; "I w^as only making a sort of 
 defence of your interests, to which Miss Morton appeared 
 to take some exception ; but had you not come up, I can- 
 not ansAver for the extreme to which she might have gone, 
 and I thank you for your timely presence." 
 
 " And you, sir, in the true spirit of decaying chivalry, 
 endeavored to urge me on — fie upon you ! Quarrel with 
 a woman I " 
 
 " Well," replied he, laughing ; " I must cry peccavi, but 
 
BLOOM AND B It I E R . 283 
 
 then some one must quarrel with you girls, or there would 
 be no living on the continent with you, and considering the 
 jDopular favor running in behalf of your sex, I rather think 
 it showed higli moral courage on my part to dare the colli- 
 sion." 
 
 " You are ambitious, then, of that distinction?" 
 
 " Yes ; I ambition that, as I once heard a Yankee Gov- 
 ernor express himself." 
 
 " A vaulting ambition." 
 
 " So it may be ; but for a long while I have thought 
 that I should like to get into a serious difficulty with a 
 woman, just to see if I had nerve enough to go through 
 with it." 
 
 " Jocky of Norfolk, be not too bold ! You may get into 
 one sooner than you think, and then you would give a king- 
 dom for a horse to fly the field with, but not to fight upon. 
 I pray you therefore, young knight, not to court your fate 
 too soon." 
 
 " Come, come, " said Mr. Jerome, "desist, or I shall be 
 compelled to read the * Riot Act.' " 
 
 ** 1 accept your mediation, Mr. Jerome. I already see 
 that the contest would be an unequal one ; and now. Miss 
 Sally, I withdraw my provoking banter, provided you with- 
 draw your semi-threat and prophecy." 
 
 "Very well, I accept, with this injunction to you: be- 
 ware of entrance to a quarrel — particularly with a woman, 
 for I tell you in all truth that few men ever made a woman 
 beware, or survived unhurt, the contest ; it is one of those 
 victories, even when won, that ruins the victor." 
 
 The congregation were now beginning to leave, and 
 Laura, who had not even spoken during the conversation 
 between Henry Brandon and ^liss Morton, now a.sked 
 Henry, in a subdued sort of tone, if he would be at church 
 on Christmas Day? 
 
 "Yes, I expect to, of course; particular! v i{ you request 
 it." 
 
284 BLOOM AND BRIER. 
 
 " Yes ; I would be glad to see you." 
 
 " Any especial reason, Laura ? " 
 
 "Yes — no. Well, perhaps so; I may have something 
 to say to you then — not now though." 
 
 " Christmas does not come until Thursday, and you are 
 all to meet here on Wednesday again ; suppose I meet you 
 here?" 
 
 " Very w^ell, Wednesday." 
 
 " Well, suppose," said he, laughing, " I ride over to- 
 morrow evening ? " 
 
 " Oh, you know^ that I will always be glad to see you. 
 Come when you may," attempting a smile, as she said this. 
 
 " Ah, Laura ! I am afraid you are too timid, either for 
 your own happiness or mine." 
 
 They had now reached the .carriage, where her mother 
 ■was waiting for her ; who, of course, saw their confidential 
 tone and manner, with no great pleasantness. 
 
 CHAPTER XLIL 
 
 "The strong base and building of my lore 
 Is as the very centre of the earth." 
 
 ACCORDING to the appointment, half jestingly made 
 the day before at church, Henry Brandon rode over 
 to see Laura on the following evening. 
 
 He w^as fearful that the excuse which his aunt now had, 
 in his participation in the affair at old Manese's, would be 
 sufficient to bring his intercourse with Laura to a final 
 crisis ; and that prurient desire which most people have for 
 finding out their troubles in advance, induced him to be 
 punctual to his engagement. 
 
 He had observed the expression of her face when he had 
 walked up to the carriage with Laura on the day before, 
 and knew that it boded no good to his hopes ; and when (as 
 
BLOOM AND BRIER. 285 
 
 he knew she would) she should hear of his visit to old 
 Manese's,he had every reason to believe that she would con- 
 centrate all the energy of her opposition, and bring it to 
 bear against him in such a manner as to make it impossible 
 for him to longer visit at her house. Although the incident 
 was trifling in its character, as Laura had said to him, it 
 was yet a sufiiciont spark to kindle into flame the intense 
 opposition to his marriage into her family, which she had 
 felt for several weeks, and had given unmistakable evi- 
 dence of. From this very fact, that Laura had spoken of it 
 as an unimportant matter, and yet seemed so deeply affected 
 by it, he was convinced that she had already passed through 
 a severe ordeal with her mother — much more so, than she 
 had revealed to him. 
 
 These, and other such reflections, had disturbed him all 
 the morning, and no sooner had he concluded his dinner 
 than he was on his horse, and galloping over to Mr. Robert 
 Brandon's. 
 
 Mrs. Brandon had that morning had a long private in- 
 terview with her daughter, and for the first time in her life, 
 Laura had shown her some temper. 
 
 " You refuse to tell me then, Laura, whether you have 
 engaged yourself to Henry Brandon or not," said Mrs. 
 Brandon to her daughter, after they had been talking some 
 time. 
 
 "Yes, madam, I hope you will allow me the privilege 
 of keeping silence ; it is the first time in my life I have ever 
 asked such a leniency of you." 
 
 " I certainly should, my daughter, if I did not know and 
 feel, that by that single secret you were about to destroy 
 your own happiness, and the peace of your own family, as 
 W'ell as Henry's ; it is a most unsuitable match for you both, 
 view it from what point you will ; and I shall never give 
 my consent to it." 
 
 " I have not told you, mother, that I was engaged to him, 
 
286 BLOOM AND BRIER. 
 
 but I am almost prepared to tell you that I will never 
 marry against your wishes, if positively expressed. Love, 
 so far as I know anything of it, is — with me at least — a 
 sentiment ; and if any man should sufficiently become the 
 object of it, as to make me willing to marry him, I still 
 wnll love him, even if our marriage was frustrated. Marry- 
 ing is only a desire to increase my domestic and social 
 happiness — certainly not destroy it — which I would do 
 if I should intrpduce discord between myself, husband, and 
 parents." 
 
 " Then you are certainly guilty of a great wrong to 
 Henry Brandon, by encouraging his attentions." 
 
 " By that I sup^iose you mean that no circumstances can 
 mitigate your opposition to him — not even affection on my 
 part?" 
 
 " I mean that under no circumstances can I ever receive 
 him into my family as the husband of my daughter?" 
 
 "If you express such open disregard of my /ee/i??^.9, how 
 do you expect me to respect — nothing more than your 
 'prejudices f " 
 
 " They are not prejudices ; they are feelings and opinions, 
 and regard yourself more than they affect me. I have lived 
 for you, my daughter, and I would die for you, but I could 
 never forgive your marriage with Henry Brandon." 
 
 " It is but fair, mother, to suppose that I have inherited 
 strong feelings from yourself. Then, again, suppose these 
 feelings should drive me on to marrying cousin Henry — 
 even as yours drive you on to opposing it — should I expect 
 to be driven from your heart and your home? " 
 
 " I place before you no such alternatives, nor do I desire 
 you to establish them ; yet you can do as you please — you 
 have heard what I have had to say." 
 
 " Yes, mother, you certainly do make alternatives, and 
 the very severest that a mother can make to a daughter." 
 
 " There we differ." 
 
BI.OOM AND liRIER. 287 
 
 "I have never wilfully disobeyed you, mother, uor will 
 I now, however cruel your exactions ; but it does appear 
 to me that you might have some regard for the feelings 
 of such a daughter as I have ever tried to be." 
 
 "I think you mistake your feelings, Laura," said Mrs. 
 Brandon, in rather more soothing tones. "When did your 
 feelings become so interested in Henry Brandon?" 
 
 "If you will know the life-long secret of my heart, and 
 the only one I ever kept from you, I must tell you — from 
 ray earliest girlhood^ 
 
 " Is it possible, my daughter, that you so long kept this 
 from me ? " 
 
 "I have, and from every living creature but himself; 
 and no other will I ever marry ; and no persuasion, no 
 threat, can induce me to move from these positions ; and 
 if I was as any other girl I know — even as Lucy — with 
 such feelings I would marry him, if you drove me, penny- 
 less, from your door forever, and with him alone meet 
 every sorrow, and breast every storm, as they rose upon 
 the troubled sea of life, and, clinging only to him, as he 
 would cling to me, laugh at every frown of mortal eye, 
 and scorn every hate of mortal heart. Now, mother, you 
 know the secret and the force of my Avoman's bosom. Do 
 as you will, but let me beg you to consider well your action." 
 
 " I came for no scenes, Laura — I -merely wished to have 
 a serious talk with you in regard to a matter which I think 
 of the highest importance to us all." 
 
 "No, mother, you mistake your position : it concerns no 
 living being but myself; and my being is so involved in 
 it, that no human thought, nor human deed, can separate 
 them. With me it is everything — it is all. AVith you, at 
 most, 'tis but apart.'' 
 
 "I say, Laura, I did not come to witness a scene; and 
 you are' certainly acting, my daughter." She said this 
 with the vain effort at a smile ; but it was the smile of 
 
288 BLOOM AND BRIER. 
 
 helpless desperation, and tlierefore entitled to sympathy ; 
 as perhaps there is nothing tenderer than the feeling of a 
 parent to a child ; and there can be nothing more unfor- 
 tunate than a diflerence between them. To yield up a 
 child, then, under any circumstances, against the will — 
 or a daughter to the love, and care, and arms of one in 
 whom the completest confidence is not felt — is certainly the 
 severest ordeal through which a parent's heart can pass. 
 There was this much to be said in behalf of Mrs. Brandon, 
 in her opposition to the marriage of her daughter with her 
 cousin. 
 
 " Mother," answered Laura, " you too deeply wrong me, 
 by the use of such words, when you apply them to one 
 whose happiness trembles upon your decision. It is my 
 heart that has received the wound, not yours. I have 
 done nothing to wound you; and yet you insult its agonies 
 by scoffing at its aching, bursting throbs, in speaking of 
 them as acting. Neither have I enacted any scene. I 
 have told you, in the only words that could express it, the 
 deep secret of my heart, and you yourself did persecute 
 me into revealing it." 
 
 " This interview is becoming too unpleasant to be longer 
 carried on. I only wished to advise you, for your own 
 happiness, as well as that of Henry Brandon, that if you 
 did not intend to marry him, it was but proper for you to 
 refuse his attentions." 
 
 "Your words, mother, are colder to my heart than icicles." 
 
 " Then vou refuse to tell me whether vou have re-engao;ed 
 yourself to your cousin, or not.^" 
 
 "Yes, madam, you must permit me to refuse. I ha\e 
 told you all that I now feel willing to tell ; and as to refus- 
 ing the attentions of cousin Henry, that must be as my 
 feelings dictate when we meet." 
 
 Mrs. Brandon now rose and left her daughter's room, 
 and no sooner had she done so, than Laura fell upon her 
 
BI.OOM AND BRIER. 289 
 
 lounge in convulsions of tears, only saying : " And must I 
 give him up? Must I let this poor heart break and die?" 
 
 Lucy returned to the room very quickly, after hearing 
 her mother leave it, and by degrees soothed her sister to 
 quietness. 
 
 AVhat the feeling was, she perhaps scarcely knew herself, 
 but when she met her mother at the dinner-table, she never 
 appeared more beautiful, more cheerful, or happier, and 
 was still so when Henry Brandon came in the evening. 
 
 CHAPTER XLIII. 
 
 " But love can hope where reason would despair." 
 
 FOK a winter day, the evening was calm, bright, and 
 lovely, and imparted something of its own beauty 
 to Henry Brandon's heart. In spite of the anxieties which 
 had disturbed it in the morning, he felt a strange happi- 
 ness come over him while galloping along over the prairies 
 to " Starlight." He had dressed himself with scrupulous 
 elegance, and never looked more handsome. His coat 
 buttoned in front, with his arm resting in the breast of it, 
 only gave him the graCe of an unpremeditated act, as he 
 came walking from the gate to the house. He was met 
 at the door by a servant, and immediately shown to the 
 drawing-room. 
 
 Lucy and Laura entered in a few moments, both appear- 
 ing delighted to see him, and were very soon followed by 
 Mr, Robert Brandon and his lady. Henry ran to meet 
 them, with his lame arm still resting in the breast of his 
 coat. Lucy had observed this before, but had said nothing 
 about it until now, when she said, with a pleasant laugh : 
 
290 BLOOM AND BEIER. 
 
 " Cousiu, I really admire it very much ; but then you 
 are certainly attitudinizing for our pleasure this evening. 
 Did you learn that new figure at your friend Manese's?" 
 
 " I certainly did, Lucy," he replied, very pleasantly. 
 
 " May I ask who your instructor was ? " said Laura. 
 
 " Yes ; but you place me somewhat in the predicament 
 of Hotspur, when he told Glendower that he, too, could call 
 up spirits from the vasty deep, but was in some doubt as 
 to their coming. I know how it was done, but can scarcely 
 say wlio did it." 
 
 " You speak in riddles, when the occasion requires plain 
 ■words, cousin." 
 
 " Then, if I must, I will tell a tale which will harrow 
 up your souls — are you prepared for it? " 
 
 " As well, i^erhaps, as we will ever be." 
 
 " I received a flying shot from a gun of the sheriff's 
 party, the other night, at Mauese's, when the attempt was 
 made to apprehend my old friend Miller." 
 
 This announcement was even more than Laura had ex- 
 pected, while Mrs. Brandon affected the greatest surprise 
 at young gentlemen attending such sports and places. 
 Henry only laughed, saying that he was much entertained 
 by the whole thing, and certainly was heartily welcomed 
 by the people down there, which was more than he feared 
 •was his case nearer home. 
 
 "You do not say seriously, that you were shot there, 
 Henry ? " said Mrs. Brandon. 
 
 *' I certainly do, madam." 
 
 " What do you think will be said about the accomplished 
 and highly educated Henry Brandon being at such a 
 place?" 
 
 " I really have not concerned myself about that feature 
 of the affair." 
 
 "Do you say that you are indifferent to public opinion, 
 Henry ? " asked his uncle. 
 
BLOOM AND BRIER. 291 
 
 *' Yes, sir, about tliiit, as I really don't see any good to 
 come to me from either private or public estimation. I 
 rather think the signs favorable to my being compelled to 
 make my own way through the world, regardless of the 
 stupidity of both ; at all events, I stand in that position at 
 present." 
 
 "You are not likely to win any great favor by playing' 
 such cards." 
 
 "No; nor with any other in this portion of the great 
 moral vineyard, as I see matters." 
 
 "You do not think of leaving us, do you?" said Mrs. 
 Brandon, her eyes ill-concealing her pleasure in the prob- 
 ability of getting an affirmative answer. 
 
 "I contemplate it as among the probabilities of the 
 future." 
 
 " Not of the present, then ? " asked Laura. 
 
 "No, cousin ; not so long as the young maidens smile 
 upon my stay." 
 
 " Would it not be better to select only one, cousin, and 
 let her smile upon you for life?" 
 
 " I have entertained such illusive hopes, but find myself 
 about to give up the strife unto that beatitude." 
 
 " I am afraid, Henry, your getting wounded has done 
 nothing for the softness of your feelings. We will leave 
 you to the girls and the piano, perhaps they will soothe 
 you. Come, Catherine, let us leave them," said Mr. 
 Brandon. 
 
 Mr. Brandon had come in with his wife, fearing that she 
 might say something unpleasant to Henry, and now sug- 
 gested her leaving the drawing-room with him, as an ad- 
 ditional safeguard ; thinking that matters would take their 
 course, if even left to themselves. 
 
 They had not been left long to themselves before Lucy 
 rose to leave also ; but saying ; 
 ' " I am glad, cousin Henry, that you had the independ- 
 
292 BLOOM AND BRIER. 
 
 ence to speak of that foolish Manese affair as you did, as I 
 do not think that silence would have done you any good. 
 I have never known mother to take so decided a stand 
 about anything as she has in regard to — you and Laura — 
 and cannot see into it ; and though she has often in her 
 life checked me, I have never known her to even cross 
 Laura, and I think if Laura will be firm, and say but 
 little, that she will eventually give way ; but to be candid, 
 I ask you not to be too much encouraged. I have done,, 
 and will do all I can for you both," then left the room, 
 Henry saying to her as she left : " Glorious for you, Lucy." 
 
 Laura alternately blushed and changed her color, during 
 the time that her sister was speaking. 
 
 Henry now turned to her and half laughingly said : 
 
 " All alone, Laura, now tell me my fate." 
 
 " I have passed through a scene this morning, cousin, 
 that has almost taken my senses ; I scarcely believe I could 
 bear the shock of such another without — but never mind." 
 
 " What was the nature of it, Laura?" 
 
 " Oh ! I can scarcely tell you ; " but proceeded to relate 
 as nigh as she could the nature of the interview between 
 herself and her mother. 
 
 " The whole force of her inquiries was in regard to a re- 
 engagement, not as to your feelings ? " 
 
 "Both, probably; but mainly with reference to that." 
 
 " What did you say to her ? " 
 
 " Oh ! more than I can ever say to my mother again, 
 cousin." 
 
 " I am sorry, Laura, that I have brought this trouble on 
 you ; but did you tell her ? " 
 
 " No, I refused ; and she was very bitter in regard to my 
 course. Now, can you advise me what course to pursue ? 
 You know my feelings toward you, and you know the cir- 
 cumstances. With your man's heart, tell — mine is a 
 woman's." 
 
BLOOM AND BRIER. 1J93 
 
 " You miLst tell her, then ; and if not sufficient to bear 
 the pressure of her opposition, break it up. If you are, 
 you can depend on me under all situations. This is as ex- 
 plicit as I can be." 
 
 " And leave me, cousin ? " she asked, with the last tinge 
 of color leaving her cheek. 
 
 "No; not leave you, Laura, unless you command it." 
 
 " That I can never do." 
 
 " Do you mean then to go against their consent ? " 
 
 " These are the only two alternatives, I know ; but how — 
 oh ! how am I to choose ? " 
 
 Henry now discovered that she was slightly disposed to 
 wildness of thought, and saw at once that it was better not 
 to bring matters to a conclusion, and suggested that she 
 let them remain as they were for the present. This she 
 seemed willing to do, and became more calm. He then 
 told her that it would only increase her troubles for him to 
 come there again under the present circumstances, and for 
 a while at least, only to meet each other on neutral ground. 
 This she also thought advisable ; but asked him, with a 
 modest smile, to make the occasions himself, as it would be 
 out of her power to do so. 
 
 She then sang him a plaintive little song, on a low key, 
 but with a more quiet expression than she had had that day. 
 Henry seeing that her feelings had resumed a natural 
 channel, proposed to leave, telling her that he would meet 
 her on Christmas Day, as he believed that Violet was to 
 have all of her young friends with her then, for the last 
 time before being married. 
 
 Rising from the piano, in response to Henry's " good-by," 
 she quoted Byron's words : 
 
 " Farewell ! 
 For in that word — that fatal word — howe'er 
 We promibc — hope — believe — there breathes despair." 
 
294 BLOOM AND BRIER. 
 
 "1^0, no ; not yet Laura," said he, smiling, and, dra^-ing 
 the almost hopeless girl to his bosom, and kissing away the 
 tear that dropped upon her blanching cheek, left the house, 
 never again to enter it. 
 
 Christmas week, that festal time, under the old regime, 
 for white and black, had now come and gone. During the 
 time, however, Henry Brandon had met Laura on many 
 pleasant occasions, and was himself the gayest of the gay ; 
 but she was evidently giving way. 
 
 CHAPTER XLIV. 
 
 " Good night, good night ! parting is such sweet sorrow, 
 That I shall say good night till it be morrow." 
 
 ACTIVE preparations were now being made for Violet's 
 wedding, and during the time, Laura and Lucy were 
 frequently at Mrs. Brandon's ; but the former seemed to 
 enter with but small zest into the animated arrangements, 
 and was evidently living under a pressure too great both 
 for her spirits and her strength. Henry, however, saw pro- 
 per to allude to the unpleasant circumstances but seldom, 
 as he was well satisfied that no favorable change in affairs 
 was going on. 
 
 At length the wedding night was at hand, and the occa- 
 sion was a bright and happy one for every one ; even Laura 
 seemed to forget her sadness, and entered with something 
 of her former animation into the joy and gayety of the 
 evening. 
 
 Henry Brandon paid her marked attention, and danced 
 with her several times, which appeared to give her great 
 
BLOOM AND BRIER. 295 
 
 pleasure, and was as often with lier at the piano, when she 
 sang for him with all her former joyousness and sweetness ; 
 and yet behind all there was a rooted sorrow, of which 
 but very few in that gay assenil)h\ge dreamed, that loaned 
 its bright but unearthly liglit to her beauty, and to the 
 elegance and elasticity of her conversation — for while the 
 one was universally remarked, the other was the charm of 
 every group. Henry Brandon saw this and knew it, and 
 the fact sank deep into his heart, yet knew no soothing 
 word, no healing remedy — it was the cold, bright light of 
 the evening star before sinking down below the horizon of 
 eternity. They were the last happy hours she ever knew 
 on earth ! 
 
 Some few days after this, her mother sought an occasion 
 to say to her, incidentally to some other general opinions, 
 that she should be cautious in receiving the attentions of 
 Henry Brandon, as it would certainly lead him to enter- 
 tain hopes which she had promised not to gratify. 
 
 Laura simply replied, that as she had surrendered the 
 dearest hope of her life, she wished never to have the subject 
 again alluded to. 
 
 It was but a few days after this, that she wrote the fol- 
 lowing note to Henry Brandon : 
 
 " Starlight, Wednesday Night, 
 
 "^Iy Dear Cousin: — The purport of this note will not, 
 I know, surprise you, though you may not expect it ; nor 
 many days since, did I ever expect to write such. But 
 causes have existed, and do still exist, which render it just 
 and proper that I ask you to relieve us both of our anom- 
 alous sort of engagement. The nature of those causes you 
 already know too well, to demand of me the pain of repe- 
 tition. 
 
 "I might tell you of what my feelings are still towards 
 you, but it would not be right ; it would be as an effort to 
 bind the living to the dead. I will, therefore, only ask 
 you, generously to forgive all the parties to this wretched 
 
296 BLOOM AND BRIER. 
 
 drama, and if you can, to forget one, who, as a tender, 
 clinging vine, had flung its soft tendrils out upon your 
 name, your character, and your manly virtues, but bVoke 
 when the first storm came, from their own weakness and 
 tenuity, and now lies helpless at your feet. The morning 
 rose gives no promise of its early fading, yet when twilight 
 comes, its hues are gone, its fragrance shed ; 'tis thus with 
 me. In the morning of my life I little thought to wither 
 all so soon, but the evening has already come, and my life- 
 leaves faded ; nor can the sweet night-dews of even your 
 affection revive their early morning tints. In after years 
 — 't is all that I dare to ask — will you still remember me as 
 some strange, and bright, and joyous thing that floated 
 along your youthful path, but early paled its light away, 
 and left no trace behind of having ever been ? And now — 
 
 " ' Farewell ! a word which hath been, and must be, 
 A sound that makes us linger, yet farewell I ' 
 
 " In heart, ever yours, 
 
 " Laura Brandon." 
 
 Although the purport of this note, as Laura said, was 
 not a great surprise, yet when he read it, he sat stupefied, 
 and nearly paralyzed, and could find no power at his com- 
 mand suitable for a reply. 
 
 In this time Hunter had already become perfectly do 
 mesticated at Mrs. Brandon's, and Henry made haste to 
 make all preparations for returning immediately to the 
 law-office of Judge Lorn. A few days more found him at 
 his old quarters in the city. Books were his only refuge ; 
 society presented no charms, and for many months he had 
 never studied in his college days with half the same assi- 
 duity ; never visiting in the city, and but seldom even 
 visiting his mother. 
 
 Early in the following spring, after the marriage of 
 Violet, Lucy Brandon was married to Mr. Campbell, with 
 a wedding entertainment quite equalling in extent, sump- 
 tuousness, and gayety, that of Hunter and Violet. Henry 
 
BLOOM AND BRIER. 297 
 
 was asked to attend it, by an ordinary invitation froln ^Ir. 
 and Mrs. Brandon, and by an especial note from Lucy, but 
 declined to attend. 
 
 Lucy immediately removed to the city, but Henry never 
 visited her, though repeatedly insisted on to do so, both by 
 Mr. Campbell, and by messages from Lucy, but once for 
 all declined, saying to Mr. Campbell that he loved Lucy 
 almost as his sister, yet the associations in connection with 
 her were too painful to him, but would go some time or 
 other without invitation, when he felt that it would be 
 pleasant to him to see her. Laura never visited the city, 
 and visited but little in the country ; they, therefore, never 
 met. 
 
 His uncle he frequently saw, but always avoided him — 
 as either wanting in sincerity, or the proper manliness to 
 control his wife, either of which, to one of Henry Brandon's 
 character, was sufficient cause of alienation. 
 
 Growing weary both of books, and the sort of isolation 
 which his feelings had led him into, he determined on a 
 stroll, as he called it, and selected the West as the theatre 
 of his wanderings, with no defined purpose, beyond the 
 mere passing off of his time ; and in the latter part of the 
 autumn, made all arrangements for carrying out his design, 
 Hunter agreeing to take charge of his planting interest. 
 He had already completed his other preparations for leav- 
 ing, with the ubiquitous "Sam Brandon," as he always 
 spoke of him, as his only friend — the latter protesting 
 most seriously against being left behind. 
 
 Feeling, however, that he could not leave without either 
 seeing or letting Laura know of his intention, he wrote her 
 a few lines, informing her of the fact, and as an excuse for 
 doing so, returned her the many notes, letters, and little 
 favors which he had received from her through many 
 years — among them the ring that she had given him and 
 had never asked for, and the little bunch of faded flowers 
 
298 BLOOM AND BRIER. 
 
 which she had given him on the eve of his leaving for 
 college. 
 
 The note and package were sent by " Sam," who was told 
 to wait and see if there would be a reply, and ran as 
 follows : 
 
 "BucKHORXS, 2d November. 
 
 "My Dear Laura: — It is with deep and sincere regret 
 that circumstances render it proper, perhaps, to send the 
 package which accompanies this note. It contains some 
 letters and other small favors sent and conferred, when the 
 present was all joy, and the future all hope, both of which 
 have ceased to exist, so far as we are concerned. 
 
 " It is my design to leave the State in a few days, with- 
 out appointing a time of return ; and while I cannot get 
 my consent to destroy these small mementos of the happy 
 past, it will be better not to have them with me, connected 
 as they are with events that must ever bring their own pe- 
 culiar sorrows. 
 
 " The ring you have never asked for, and till now, I 
 could never get my consent to return ; but as it was given 
 to represent a never-ending attachment, it is only right 
 that I return it, now that the promise has been virtually 
 broken. The notes and letters explain themselves ; they 
 are yours now — not mine. The little bunch of flowers 
 you probably have forgotten, but may recall themselves to 
 your memory, and even in their withered condition and 
 faded colors, are the best emblems of our youthful feel- 
 ings ; and ay, too often, when no eyes were upon me but 
 those of heaven, have I pressed them to my heart and lips, 
 and thought of her who gave them. 
 
 "I sometimes think that I would like still to know 
 you LOVED me — still to know I had a place in the heart 
 of the fair young girl who stood before me in her lovely 
 innocence, her maiden truth and gentle beauty, and prom- 
 ised to be mine; but then I fly from the knowledge of so 
 sad' a truth, as one which has embittered my life. The 
 wither of age and the blight of grief rest upon all things, 
 and I fly from them as from a curse and a woe. Home, 
 friends, and the love of early boyhood are as nothing to me 
 now, and Lleave them, perhaps, forever. 
 
 '* Yours, very truly, Henry Brandons" 
 
BLOOM AND BRIER. 299 
 
 On reaching Starlight, "Sam," as he had been directed, 
 called for Laura's waiting-maid, and i)]aced the package 
 in her hands, saying to her that he would wait for a reply. 
 
 The girl carried it directly to her young mistress, who 
 was in her own room ; and having already become a partial 
 invalid, was reclining on her couch, and listlessly engaged 
 in turning over the pages of "Childe Harold." 
 
 Nervously opening the note, and reading and re-reading 
 it, time and again, she at length laid it aside with a sigh, 
 and opened the package. ' As her eye fell upon the ring 
 and withered flowers, she could no longer restrain her feel- 
 ings, but, with a look of wild despair, laughed a low, hys- 
 teric laugh, and fell back upon her couch. 
 
 The very throbbing of her breaking heart soon nerved 
 her to consciousness and to thought, and asking the girl to 
 place the writing-table near her, wrote the following note 
 in reply-: 
 
 "Starlight, 2d November. 
 
 "My Dear Cousin: — A note from you, with a pack- 
 age, has just been handed to me. The 'note I read with 
 that deep interest which you must know anything from you 
 will ever secure. The package contained some evidences 
 and mementos of the relation that (you say) did once 
 exist between us; but which I, in my wildness, perhaps, 
 almost had dared to hope did still exist ; and I make haste 
 to respond to my heart's deep emotion. 
 
 " The note, when I first saw it, brought a bewildering 
 joy, such as my heart had long been a stranger to, and -^ 
 shall I confess it? — there was the secret confidence of a 
 moment that it would tell me something to restore my 
 lost hope and forgotten happiness ; but, oh ! its words! 
 its words ! I deserv^e, yet do not all deserve them. I have 
 brourrht sorrow to you, but a broken heart to mvself— and 
 still have not the courage to meet the causes. What your 
 grief has been, I can well imagine. Mine has been even 
 more than that, and I have sufiered more than I thought a 
 human heart could bear. 'S or have I borne it ; yet,"as I 
 do, I bear in silence. 
 
300 BLOOM AND BRIER. 
 
 " It has been some months since I saw you, or even 
 received the attention of a note ; and while this, which 
 came this morning, was so diflerent from any I had ever 
 before received from you — so bitter and so sad, and — 
 shall I tell it to you? — the very way-notes of my path to 
 the grave — it yet brought a gladness to my spirit that 
 death alone will give me a brighter, clearer title to. * What 
 was that,' you ask, ' that brought this bliss ? ' Only a 
 reference to the fact that you once did love me, and a refer- 
 ence, too, to the fact that Laura Brandon did once love 
 you — ay, and still doth love, and will ever love you. 
 
 "There is no living thing that ray poor timid heart 
 would thus expose its beatings to but yourself; but with 
 you I feel that perfect confidence that knows no wrong, 
 and feels no fear ; and it will ever breathe its fragrance and 
 its truth about a name that has twined itself about my life 
 forever, and will not, cannot cease to be, until my pulses 
 cease to count my troubles and my days. 
 
 " This might seem to some to be the excited language of 
 a frenzied madness. To you I know it will not, but only 
 the trickling drops of a bleeding heart falling into their 
 own dying bosom. 
 
 " To think aught else, would only be to wrong one whose 
 tenure upon the things of time and sense is already loosed. 
 Even now, while I write, existence seems to have lost its 
 substance and its joy, and I stand on time's farthest shore, 
 with my spirit fluttering for a flight into the still, mystic 
 realms we know not of. Why it lingers there, I cannot 
 tell, unless to plume its wing with yet another sorrow. 
 
 "You say your design is to leave the State. Oh, why 
 did you tell me this ? Why not have left me to find it out 
 as I would — to fate? And yet I would have known it — 
 since I think I have the right, in virtue of the past, to 
 meet you once more in life ; after that, we may never meet 
 again. 
 
 " To-morrow, then, I ask you to meet me, at three o'clock, 
 under the old oak-tree at the * cross-paths.' 
 
 " As ever, yours most truly and affectionately, 
 
 " Laura Brandon." 
 
BLOOM AND BRIER. 301 
 
 CHAPTER XLV. 
 
 "Early, bright, transient, chaste as morning dew, 
 She sparkled, was exhaled, and went to heaven." 
 
 THE servant-girl had been sitting near, during the 
 time that Laura had been writing, engaged with her 
 needle, and when she had concluded her excited and 
 hastily written note, she handed it to her, telling her to 
 give it to no one but "Sam Brandon." The girl, sympa- 
 thizing deeply with her young mistress, almost flew to 
 "Sam," and told him to lose no time in delivering it. "Sam," 
 thinking that the success of the whole matter depended 
 upon despatch, left the gate at almost full speed. 
 
 The " cross-paths " to which Laura alluded was a spot well 
 known to both Henry and herself, one of them being the 
 path which led from Mr. Robert Brandon's to the old 
 school-house, where the two young people had spent so 
 many blissful hours in their early days ; the other was the 
 "herd-boy's" path, that led out into the adjoining prairies ; 
 and the two crossed each other, at acute angles, on the 
 outer edge of a small but rich forest- wood, some three or 
 four hundred yards from Mr. Brandon's house. At the 
 immediate crossing stood an old oak, remarkable for its 
 size and symmetry. Directly beyond, lay spread out a 
 broad and beautiful prairie, as a bright sea of gold, with 
 a shore-tinge of autumn green. The evening was still, and 
 calm, and beautiful. The long, yellow rays of coming 
 winter glanced through the old oak's top, and bathed the 
 prairie beyond with a flood of soft, yellow light, while 
 the gentlast breath of air only trembled the purpling leaf, 
 as if to welcome to a court of sadness the lovely girl whom 
 it expected there. 
 
 At the appointed hour Laura was there, her waiting- 
 26 
 
302 BLOOM AND BRIER. 
 
 maid having attended her to a point in sight, and was to 
 remain there until she returned. She had already been 
 under the tree for some minutes, awaiting the arrival of 
 Henry Brandon ; he, however, came up by rather an un- 
 usual direction, and seeing her there at some distance off, 
 had lighted from his horse and came walking up, and was 
 near her without her discovering his approach. 
 
 Laura was not looking for him from that direction, but 
 stood intently looking for him from another. She had not 
 heard from him, but certainly knew he would be there. 
 
 She was dressed in a rich flowing black silk, with snow- 
 white collar and cuffs ; and having taken off her bonnet, 
 stood, rather swinging it by the strings and veil, as she 
 gently leaned against the body of the tree. Henry paused 
 in his advance just before reaching her, and was struck 
 with her changed appearance, yet thought he had never 
 seen a more lovely picture ; her dark, glossy hair hung 
 loosely but elegantly at the sides of her face ; her complexion 
 was almost transparently clear — seeming to have lost all 
 the grossness of earth — with only the softest hectic flush 
 upon her cheek, adding to her almost heavenly beauty. As 
 she stood under the wide branches of the old monarch of 
 the woods, that stood immediately at the crossing, she looked 
 more like a Dryad, wrought out in the highest sculpture of 
 Grecian art, or some chaste statue of love and beauty, from 
 an angel's hand, than any real, living thing of earth. 
 
 Henry making a slight noise to attract her attention, she 
 turned with some surprise, but instantly stepped to meet 
 him, and offered him her hand, which he accepted very 
 affectionately, but without being able to speak. 
 
 Laura was the first to break silence, by saying : 
 
 *' Cousin, I am only too happy to see you once more ; 
 but fear you will think the request to meet me here a sin- 
 gular one, at least." 
 
 " No, Laura," he replied ; " you have yet to do your first 
 
BLOOM AND BRIER. 303 
 
 exceptioual act, though some for which I may have cause 
 to reproach you." 
 
 " Your words bring me a strange happiness, cousin, even 
 if a barren one, in spite of your reproof. I had not hoped 
 Bo much, and feared more." 
 
 "No; in regard to anything you have ever done, my 
 only feeling is regret." 
 
 " If ' regret ' is all you have felt, I can assure you that 
 your sufferings are not as mine have been," 
 
 "Yours, Laura, were self-inflicted, from which you 
 could have escaped at any moment ; mine were different, 
 imposed upon me." 
 
 " You do me injustice, cousin ; there has been, and is, less 
 escape for me than for yourself— for instance, even now, 
 you declare your intention to leave the scenes of these 
 great heart -troubles; and mixing with, and becoming a 
 part of the great outside world, will of course, to some 
 extent, forget those you leave behind. With me the situ- 
 ation is the reverse. / cannot go ; but must remain, and every 
 day, every hour, be brought in association with persons, 
 places, and a thousand little nameless events, relating both 
 to you, and the love which we so long have borne to each 
 other," then hesitating for a moment, continued, "and 
 which I shall ever bear to you." 
 
 Taking her by the hand as she uttered these words, he 
 said: "Laura! Laura! this is really too much to bear, 
 and appears to me to be either trifling or insanity — more 
 than that affection of which you speak. What possible 
 manner of feeling is that which can crush itself and 
 another too ? It is only that which has ever cast a shadow 
 upon the clear blue sky, which floats upon its bosom — 
 your name and love, only that I do assure you." 
 
 At these remarks, Laura's eyes brightened with an al- 
 most celestial light, and she asked in reply : 
 
 " Oh, cousin ! cousin I after all that I have said to you, 
 
304 BLOOM AND BRIER. 
 
 and after all that I have endured and am still enduring, 
 can you find it in your breast to doubt me ? " 
 
 " No, I cannot ; nor do I doubt you in anything ; but I 
 must confess that I do not comprehend this feeling of ex- 
 treme obedience, with which you have blighted your own 
 happiness as well as mine. Does your mother know the 
 true condition of your heart, and still oppose you ? " 
 
 "IS'o, she does not; cannot — never can — nor do you. 
 Keither of you can conceive the power of a human heart 
 to crush itself to a sense of duty and family happiness. She 
 does not comprehend that I can sacrifice myself to an 
 obedience of parental authority. Nor can you, that I can 
 still be true to a feeling, but never gratify it. Yet I have 
 done — am doing both." 
 
 "Laura, you have allowed some sort of religious ab- 
 straction to carry you beyond the bounds of human reason, 
 into the mystic realms of infatuation. Rationally, either 
 aunt's prejudices should be disregarded, or you should 
 discard all preference and feeling for me. You know her, 
 you know me, you know yourself, and in justice to all 
 should take a different stand." 
 
 " You do not mean that I should forget you ? " she re- 
 plied ; looking a little startled, and shrinking back. 
 
 " No, I do not ; nor is there any demand on earth that 
 I could meet, which I would not meet, to remove all ob- 
 stacles to our mutual happiness. After that, I would take 
 the cause in my own keeping ; and as I am willing to do 
 this, so should you be." 
 
 " Do you mean to imply some special act on my part ? '* 
 she asked eagerly, supposing he had some proposition to 
 make. 
 
 " To any other girl I ever knew, I might reply : to you 
 I cannot ; but this I may say, that could I have known only 
 one year since, what the present would be, all of this sorrow 
 could have been avoided : as I did not, it is too late to yield 
 
B I, () O M A N D B K I E R . 305 
 
 to regrets ; and I can further say, that should you pei-sist 
 in your present course, I cannot see the end — the future 
 grows darker as I go, and in a few days I will leave the 
 causes to themselves forever ! and yet I can see no refuge from 
 the fate that awaits us — darkness and despair for you, and 
 over me there rests a cloud that threatens a never-ceasing 
 sorrow. We must either endeavor to retrace our steps, or 
 go forward. Do you understand me ?" 
 
 "Perhaps I do not; but, oh! cousin! speak not thus — 
 oh ! speak it not — do not all crush this aching heart, before 
 its life is gone — only say what I can do — a poor, weak 
 girl can do, to shield you from this grief; and I will throw 
 my peace, my happiness, ay! if need be, my life, my very 
 soul, into the scale to weigh against it ! " 
 
 " Spoken like a true woman, as you are, Laura." Then 
 taking her by the hand, said : " And now, after all that I have 
 said, and am willing to perform, there is but the one course 
 for us to pursue— adopt that, and these murky skies will 
 clear away that now overcast our hopes;" and then in tones 
 which showed he felt all the responsibility of the position 
 which he was about to ask her to assume, he continued : 
 " Only promise me, Laura, that against all the world you 
 will be my wife." 
 
 At this proposition the color left her cheek ; and rising 
 before him with a gentle but resolute majesty, to her full 
 height, with her soft eye beaming steadily but aflectionately 
 upon him, she replied with a low but distinct utterance : 
 
 '" Could I have ever availed myself of such a proposition, 
 it is now too late — my life is only suspended by a thread." 
 
 " Yet you are as dear to me, Laura, as you ever were 
 in the most joyous hours of bloom and health ; ay ! even 
 dearer for your weakness." 
 
 " Thank you, cousin, you only increase my obligations 
 to you ; but let me say once for all, as we may never meet 
 again, that if it can be so, my love for you is more than 
 26* 
 
306 BLOOM AND BRIER. 
 
 mortal, yet a mortal power has controlled it. My mother 
 did not yield when she might, now 't is needless, and I have 
 long since ceased to ask it ; therefore, remember what I 
 tell you — for I know and feel it, and say it calmly 
 too, that the evening of my life draws nigh — the sun is 
 already sinking to its setting hour, and throws its long 
 dreamy shadows on this wasting form ; yet my undying love 
 is yours, and while on earth only can be yours ! intenser 
 and purer too, in its hopeless, helpless despair, than in its 
 roseate flush of joy, and strength, and hope ; and this I 
 further tell you, that wander whither you will, and do as 
 you may, I yet do know your princely mind and royal 
 heart, and will forever know them ; and shoot as wildly, 
 madly, as you dare, across the course of other men, and the 
 world's despotic power, you will not! cannot! shall not 
 FALL ! On earth I still will follow you ; in heaven even, 
 with the angels there, I still will be your light, your love, 
 your guardian, and your star of destiny ! Dearer to me 
 than all else beside, in this sad world, yet I can never 
 be your wife on earth ! I release you — farewell ! " 
 Fainting, she fell lifeless in his arms. They never met 
 again. 
 
BLOOM AND BRIER. 307 
 
 THE INTERLUDE. 
 
 "'T was but for a raoraent, and yet in that time 
 She crowded th' impressions of many an hour: 
 Her eye had a glow, like the sun of her clime, 
 Which waked every feeling at once into flower ! " 
 
 IT ^vill be remembered that Laura Brandon had fainted, 
 and fallen into the arms of Henry Brandon, as she told 
 him that she could never be his wife. Her waiting-maid 
 came up in an instant, and by gentle manipulations she 
 was restored to consciousness. Supporting her on either 
 side, they returned with her to the house ; not a word was 
 spoken by either, but when they reached the gate, Laura 
 merely remarked, in tones scarcely above a whisper, that 
 she could walk alone. Henry then kissed her livid lips, 
 and bid her farew^ell — forever ! 
 
 Laura was assisted immediately to her own chamber by 
 her maid, and that evening, not going down to tea, simply 
 sent word that she would not be present. 
 
 She was taken with a fever, and continued to be confined 
 from it for several weeks, but never breathed it that she 
 had had an interview with her cousin Henry. 
 
 Eventually recovering from the attack, she yet never re- 
 gained her strength, or became what she had been, but 
 gradually grew weaker, until she sank into being a con- 
 firmed invalid, seldom leaving her room, and only then in 
 some short ride for recreation. This lasted for nearly two 
 years, when, without even having let the name of Henry 
 Brandon escape her lips, she sank to a peaceful rest. 
 
 She had long known that her life was ebbing away ; and 
 as a beautiful star of early morning, whose soft beams fade 
 away into the greater light of day, so this gentle girl, who 
 had ever been a joy, a sweet happiness, and a light to her- 
 self and to others, faded from the bright scenes of human 
 
308 BLOOM AND BRIER. 
 
 life, into the grander, but more mild effulgence of eternity. 
 Her love for Henry Brandon, as she said herself, had been 
 almost more than mortal ; and mortal sense and feeling 
 was not a fit tribunal before which could be arraigned its 
 delicate, spiritual emotion. Love, to her, was an apotheosis 
 of the object to which her heart had given its whole devo- 
 tion ; a shrinking tenderness and sacredness of adoration, 
 which, once blighted, revives no more on earth, and only re- 
 appears beyond the shores of time, as part of heaven itself. 
 
 To an exquisite social organization, she added as exqui- 
 site a delicacy of intellect — and the two commingling, as 
 it were, with an almost spiritual beauty of person, made 
 such a being as is rarely met with in the walks of human 
 life ; and her way from earth to heaven glowed with the 
 constant light of love, and truth, and virtue. Her death 
 was a lovely picture of her life — drawn in most delicate 
 lines, and tinted with the softest brush; calm, peaceful, 
 fearless, and resigned, yet glowing, and hopeful, and lovely. 
 
 Her last words were to Lucy, who, with her mother, was 
 at her bedside; making an effort, she reached out her hand, 
 and with eyes beaming with a steady, but a soft, unearthly 
 brightness, she said, in low but well-articulated words: 
 " Lucy — Cousin Henry Brandon — Let us meet again — 
 Farewell," and closed her invalid life, with a broken 
 
 HEART. 
 
 Henry Brandon, in accordance with the purpose which 
 he had formed previous to his last meeting with Laura, 
 and which he had then announced to her, left the State 
 only a few days after, rather intending to make the tour 
 of Europe. But meeting with some old college friends at 
 New Orleans, who were preparing for a hunting excursion 
 to the extreme West, he was persuaded to change his 
 purpose, and to accompany them. After spending several 
 weeks in the prairies of Texas, he returned to Little Rock, 
 and made that place his headquarters, from which he radi- 
 
BLOOM AND BRIER. 309 
 
 ated on many a roving, and to be confessed, idle excursion 
 in the country round about. 
 
 Little Hock at this time presented many attractive fea- 
 tures, for which it neither then nor since has had credit 
 abroad. It had long been one of the principal frontier 
 military posts of the Government, and officers of different 
 grades, with their families, had made the place their tem- 
 porary home ; these, together with young officers without 
 families, and with the citizens of the place, made society 
 there remarkable, both for its elegant abandon and culti- 
 vation. At the time we speak of, it possessed all the 
 charms of a gay little capital, and a bright little society 
 to itself. ^Men of genius and education were there engaged 
 in civic pursuits and professions, whose families and them- 
 selves would have jcontributed to the refinement of social 
 life in any part of the world, and would have ornamented 
 life in any of its coteries. The young men and young 
 girls who had grown up there, all gave to its society a 
 freshness, zest, and friendship, seldom to be found, and 
 peculiarly acceptable to Henry Brandon at that particular 
 time. He had taken rooms at the then fashionable hotel, 
 "The Anthony House," and with the society we have 
 spoken of, he passed much of his time, as an apparently 
 gay idler, and felt, even as the place itself was, shut off 
 from all the unpleasant events of his own home. To the 
 citizens, in the course of a three-years quasi residence, he 
 became a popular and an almost necessary feature of their 
 social intercourse. 
 
 "Sam Brandon," who was with him as body-servant, was 
 quite as popular in his own sphere as his master, and was 
 really the servant of every one who wished his attentions. 
 
 To the rude people of the more frontier settlements, 
 among whom he made frequent expeditions for hunting 
 and for purposes of amusement, Henry was familiarly and 
 pleasantly known. His agreeable manners, richness of 
 
310 BLOOM AND BRIER. 
 
 dress, and affluent habits made him an object of interest, 
 and they welcomed his presence with unreserved hospi- 
 tality to their homes and families. 
 
 War was declared against Mexico only a few months 
 after fixing his residence at Little Kock, when he joined 
 the regiment of Governor Yell, and was chosen a lieuten- 
 ant of one of the companies. At Buena Vista he was 
 wounded, but a few minutes before the fall of Colonel 
 Yell, and was near him at the time. As soon as he suf- 
 ficiently recovered to travel, he returned to Little Rocky 
 somewhat in advance of his regiment, but before the troops 
 of General Taylor were ordered round to Vera Cruz. 
 Here again he soon entered upon his same kind of aimless 
 life, with occasional trips abroad, but never to Alabama, 
 whither his mother and sister were ever insisting upon his 
 returning. He had heard all the circumstances of Laura's 
 'death, and so far from inducing him to return, it only 
 made him more determined to remain away. Such had 
 still been his afl^ection for her, and his regret for her death. 
 
 He had now been absent from home over three years, 
 when an apparent accident — as it really was — changed 
 the whole tenor of his life and feelings, and carried him 
 back to his native State. 
 
 On one of such excursions as we have described his 
 taking, occasionally, with only Sam Brandon for company, 
 he was at Memphis, and, walking along one of its main 
 streets, not of business, but of private residences, there 
 came meeting him a young girl, richly dressed, tall, and 
 graceful in her walk, but with the face partially concealed 
 by her veil. He passed her, without further remark than 
 the simple facts called for, when Sam Brandon, who was 
 with him, stepped quickly to his side, and said : " Mass 
 Henry, that young lady we met was ole Mass Gray's 
 daughter back in Alabama. I saw her face good, sir." 
 
 Henry turned immediately, and thought he did indeed 
 
BLOOM AND BRIER. 311 
 
 recognize her figure and walk, though measurably con- 
 cealed by her wrappings. At the hazard of appearing 
 rude,4ie retraced his steps, with a view, if possible, to get 
 the sight of her face ; and even before he overtook her, he 
 was satisfied of the identity, and confident that, if he 
 could get the slightest glimpse of her face, he would rec- 
 ognize her, if indeed it should prove as he now supposed, 
 her features being well fixed upon his memory, from asso- 
 ciation with the amusing events of the happy and joyous 
 day of their first acquaintance. Coming up with her, he 
 did get a passing glimpse of her features, and at once 
 recognized her. Hesitating at the apparent rudeness for 
 a moment, he as quickly recovered, and addressed her : 
 
 " Will Miss Gray permit an old acquaintance of some 
 years back to recognize her?" said he, smiling as he spoke. 
 
 She was a little startled at the suddenness of the salu- 
 tation, but recognizing him in an instant, sh*^ replied, while 
 looking him pleasantly but steadily in the face: 
 
 " Why, certainly, Mr. Brandon, and confess, sir, to as 
 great pleasure as astonishment in meeting you ;" and rather 
 confusedly continued : " Where are you — where — " 
 
 Brandon, seeing her mixed confusion and surprise, said : 
 
 " I see your perplexity, and your wish to know why I 
 am here. Miss. I can only answer that, since we last met, 
 I have gradually degenerated into the character of a mere 
 idle rambler, and have no business here nor elsewhere. I 
 therefore cannot answer you as to the why of being here, 
 unless you will excuse me for saying that it is in obedience 
 to some destiny which I am not prepared to interpret; and 
 my stay," he very pleasantly added, " may regulate itself 
 by your own, if you will permit it. You must pardon me 
 for saying this, as you are the only person I have met from 
 home since I left there. I have not seen the first familiar 
 face from there before, and I scarcely know how I can 
 leave vou." 
 
312 BLOOM AND BKIER. 
 
 " Thank you, sir ; I will not think of rejecting so agree- 
 able a proposition ; and I shall expect you, too, as you 
 have renewed our acquaintance, to tell me all the whys 
 and wherefores of youi' singular, self-imposed exile." 
 
 " I am obliged to you, Miss, for your interest, and for 
 that pleasant privilege, as I look upon it as such, and will 
 take all pains to give you the details and incidents of my 
 life for the last three or four years, as far as I can remem- 
 ber them. I scarcely think, however, I can crowd the 
 rehearsal into any limited period of time." 
 
 " Oh, sir, my curiosity is now excited, and I will endea- 
 vor to arrange for all your stories, even if it should require 
 a * thousand and one nights,' as I have no doubt but they 
 will be quite as entertaining as those of the Arabian 
 princess." 
 
 " That, indeed, is a larger liberality than I had looked for, 
 and the source of a peculiar pleasure which I had not 
 expected to meet with, when I came here — that of your 
 society; one, too, which I shall be tempted to protract, 
 even beyond the generous bounds you have already assigned 
 to me." 
 
 " I see, ]Mr. Brandon, you have not forgotten your early 
 felicity in compliment, even if you have, as I have learned, 
 been sojourning for several years in the wilds of the West." 
 
 "No, no; I hope never to forget it ; indeed, I cannot, so 
 long as nature will continue to furnish such brilliant sub- 
 jects. But let me thank you for having known, even indef- 
 initely, of my whereabouts, and for recognizing me this 
 morning." 
 
 "You do yourself injustice, sir, if you suppose that a 
 few years would erase your name from a young lady's 
 memory. You should at least demand a lifetime." 
 
 "My fears ran counter to my hopes. Miss Gray; and 
 your implied assurances to the contrary, however face- 
 tiously expressed, are most gracious to my feelings, asso- 
 
BLOOM AND BRIER. 313 
 
 ciated as those memories are with one of the pleasantest 
 days of my life, one which I neither have nor can forget ; 
 and it is that to which I am indebted for recognizing you 
 this morning. Your features have ever been singularly 
 impressed on my memory." 
 
 Evidently pleased, she replied : 
 
 "^Ir. Brandon, your manner and style of expression 
 bring back more vividly to my mind the pleasing incidents 
 of that day than I even at first remembered either you or 
 them." 
 
 Brandon was now ^valking slowly at her side, in the 
 direction which she was going at the time he met her, and 
 supposing that he might probably be interfering with her 
 purposes, asked if he could be allowed to accompany her 
 further. 
 
 " Oh, certainly. I have only been making a morning 
 call upon a young friend of mine, and am now returning 
 to the * Gayoso House,' where I stop when in the city." 
 
 "Indeed! I am happy to know that we stop at the 
 same place, and am sorry that I had not met you before. 
 I will accompany you thither, if pleasant to you. May I 
 ask who is with you from Alabama?" 
 
 "My mother and father. :My mother has a sister near 
 the city, and they visit each other alternate years. This 
 is my mother's year to make the visit." 
 
 " Yes, I remember that you were absent on a visit here 
 when my sister was married. She was quite disappointed 
 in not having you there. You will excuse me for telling 
 you away off here, and at this distance of time since, but 
 8he was quite resolved that we should all at least become 
 better acquainted, if nothing more. Young girls, you 
 know, will bother themselves about such matters." 
 
 " Well, I have to regret her kind intentions, as I, per- 
 haps, have been the loser," she replied, laughingly. "Our 
 acquaintance certainly began very merrily." 
 27 
 
314 BLOOM AND BRIER. 
 
 "And so auspiciously, I hope — at least appearing so 
 much so, that 7, it is, who must be considered to have lost," 
 he rejoined, laughingly. 
 
 " Let us divide, then, the loss." 
 
 " Very well, and unite in paying the losses up," he 
 replied, again laughing at the quickness of his conceit. 
 
 " Ah, sir," said she, smiling, and enjoying his little quirk 
 as much as himself, " I see you still retain your capacity 
 of subtle conversational manoeuvring." 
 
 " I was only fearful that it was too plain. You must 
 allow me another trial at this subtlety of which you speak." 
 
 " I shall not promise you. I discover, Mr. Brandon, 
 you have not lost any of your gallant gayety, either. You 
 certainly have not been, as reported, rambling on the fron- 
 tiers." 
 
 " I shall not tell you my story yet, but will reserve it 
 for one of the * thousand and one ' audiences which you 
 have promised me ; but in regard to my gayety, I think 
 you are right — that is constitutional ; as there have hap- 
 pened some sad events, since we met, well calculated to 
 make me feel anything but gay, whenever I pause to 
 think." 
 
 At once recollecting the sad story of Laura Brandon, 
 and of course supposing that his remark referred to that, 
 she replied : 
 
 "Yes, I remember Miss Laura Brandon was with us 
 that day ; and I will never forget the joy of her face, and 
 the impression it made upon me. I can even now recall, 
 with perfect distinctness, the calm sweetness of her expres- 
 sion, the exquisite beauty of her conversation, and the 
 gentle playfulness of her manners. And strange it is, too, 
 as I never met with her again." 
 
 " She was all that you say, with a thousand other name- 
 less virtues, that passed unobserved except to those who 
 knew her." 
 
BLOOM AND BKIER. 315 
 
 They had now reached the ladies' entrance to the " Ga- 
 yoso," and Brandon hesitated for a moment, as if not know- 
 ing whether to ask her to the parlor or not, when she 
 asked: 
 
 "AVill you not walk up to the parlor, Mr. Brandon?" 
 
 " With pleasure. Miss, if you have the leisure? " 
 
 He accordingly accompanied her there, where the con- 
 versation was continued. 
 
 " Will you now permit me, ^liss Gray, to display the 
 same interest in your life for the last few years, which you 
 evinced in mine, so far as to ask its incidents?" 
 
 " Oh, yes ; as far, at least, as giving you the head-notes, 
 which are very few, while the details would be endless. 
 You know a man's and a woman's life are very different : 
 one is all leading-points, while the other is all minutise — 
 small details. When shall we begin our mutual stories ? " 
 
 " Immediately, my impatience says ; but let me first ask 
 how long your stay will be in the city ? " 
 
 " Only a few days longer, at this time. I am here with 
 some cousins — a young gentleman and a young girl — on 
 a mere pleasure-trip, more for the purpose of attending the 
 Theatre, than for any other purpose that I can describe ; 
 and after some little further enjoyment in that direction, 
 we will leave for the countr}\" 
 
 " The Theatre ! has Mr. Gray relaxed in his Methodism 
 to that extent?" 
 
 "No ; I cannot say that he has very greatly relaxed ; but 
 does not positively object, as he knows that I generally find 
 some means of getting my way. I tell him, too, that I will 
 probably adopt his views of such things, when I get to be 
 Sifull Methodist." 
 
 " You have never then risen to the austere dignity of a 
 'full fellowship' — only a protracted case of probation — 
 at liberty to fall whenever occasion may call for it? " 
 , " A pretty fair description ; and did you not exact a half 
 
316 BLOOM AXD BRIER. 
 
 promise of me, as we parted at Gregory's Spring, to become 
 *a church woman/ as you expressed it — do you remem- 
 ber?" 
 
 • "Yes, very well," said he, smiling; "but then I did not 
 think you would observe it so well. I feel quite compli- 
 mented." 
 
 "Oh! I shall not acknowledge that it was to compliment 
 you ; but it is really so, that I have never progressed with my 
 Methodism from that day, and I have sometimes, indeed, 
 blamed you jor it. You see now, I probably have thought 
 of you and your mischievous expressions and conversation, 
 when you had all forgotten your half-proselyted Episco- 
 palian." 
 
 " No, no ; I have never forgotten you ; but our paths 
 diverged so widely, that I had not the opportunity to culti- 
 vate the good seed I had sown. There are few young per- 
 sons I have thought of so often, and so pleasantly." 
 
 " You will at least give me credit for keeping my pro- 
 mise more nighly than you did yours. Do you remember 
 that you promised to come over to our ' meeting-house,' as 
 you called our church, and had me looking for you with the 
 greatest anxiety, only to be disappointed?" 
 
 "Yes, I will give you the credit you ask; and as to my 
 promise, it only has a heavily accumulated interest, all of 
 which, it now occurs to me, I will pay to the uttermost 
 demand, before the moons of another year shall come and 
 go. What says Miss Gray to taking that promise? " 
 
 " Ah ! so far from refusing, I shall even make the de- 
 mand that you do most honestly comply — particularly as 
 I have a very handsome young lady -cousin going home 
 with me to spend the summer ; and I promise that your 
 visits will not only be received in payment of the old de- 
 mand, but with great pleasure by us both on new account. 
 I must make you acquainted with her." 
 
 " I am obliged to you ; and shall not only take great 
 
BLOOM AND BRIER. ' 317 
 
 pleasure in visiting both the cousins in Alabama, but if 
 they permit me, will take an interest in their amusements 
 here — what says this cousin to that ? " 
 
 "I shall not refuse that either, Mr. Brandon ; if from no 
 other feeling than that of vanity. The attentions of an 
 Alabamian, so distinguished in appearance, and so distin- 
 guished, too, for his aristocratic eccentricity, are not to be 
 slighted." Paying him these compliments half jokingly, she 
 continued: "And I am more than half disposed to go 
 further, and even claim you for the time I remain here, as 
 a matter of State pride." 
 
 With a dashing, bantering sort of gallantry, Brandon 
 gayly replied : 
 
 " You may extend your demand. Miss Gray, to your stay 
 in any State." 
 
 With an affected coquetry, she replied : 
 
 " I am obliged to you, Mr. Brandon; but think I can only 
 consent to the acceptance of a part of your generous offer, 
 and confine the pleasure to my stay in this city." 
 
 " Ah! perhaps I am to understand your qualified accept- 
 ance, as a rejection of my kind and entire proposition." 
 
 " Oh, no ; by no m.eans. I assure you, only a desire of 
 giving you room to go no further than you w^ish. No, sir; 
 I cannot release you," she answered, with a merry laugh. 
 
 "That Ls a very satisfactory solution. I then may 
 extend my own terms, even to attending you back to 
 Alabama?" 
 
 " All badinage aside, that would be very delightful, if 
 for nothing else, than in the idea of restoring the prodigal 
 son to his mother and friends." 
 
 " Prodigal son ! indeed ; can't I force you to some other 
 acknowledgment ? " 
 
 " No, not just now; I may at some future day." 
 
 The first gong now rang, and Brandon rose to let her 
 leave the parlor ; but asking if he might have the pleasure 
 27* 
 
318 BLOOM AXD BRIER. 
 
 of meeting her there again, for the purpose of attending 
 her to the dining-room. 
 
 "With pleasure, sir," she replied ; and withdrew to make 
 preparations for dinner. 
 
 At this late day it will not be required of me to give 
 further details of the intercourse between Henry Brandon 
 and Miss Gray ; suffice it, that they were married in the 
 following spring. Her father gave them a plantation, 
 almost centrally situated between Brandon's own old home, 
 (where Hunter now resided,) himself, and Dr. Wilton, and 
 surrounded by many other very excellent neighbors and 
 gentlemen. 
 
 Brandon devoted himself to planting, which he pros- 
 ecuted with great success for many years, living in great 
 elegance, and dispensing a most generous hospitality. 
 Between his plantation, books, and friends, his life was 
 passing along in perfect smoothness, until the question of 
 secession was raised, which he plainly saw was to result in the 
 defeat of every point which it was intended to protect ; and 
 then for the first time entered the political arena, as candi- 
 date for the State Convention, which was to decide this 
 question. He bitterly opposed it ; but was unable to stem 
 the current which now strongly set in, from the affirmative 
 side. 
 
 Hunter had continued to reside on his plantation, and at 
 the time of secession was very wealthy. He always con- 
 tinued to be a close student, and took much interest in 
 public affairs, and had been repeatedly elected to the Legis- 
 lature, either as representative or senator. He, also, had 
 most earnestly opposed secession ; but, unlike Brandon, he 
 never became reconciled to the measure — while the former 
 immediately entered the army, and remained in it until after 
 the battle of Gettysburg. 
 
 Mr. Campbell had become one of the leading men of the 
 
BLOOM AND BRIER. 319 
 
 State. Though not a brilliant man, he had yet risen to a 
 very fine position, both as a lawyer and politician ; and 
 had thoroughly identified himself with the measure of 
 secession, and went immediately into the army on the first 
 call for troops. 
 
 When the State of Alabama seceded, she was in the very 
 highest condition of agricultural prosperity ; her people 
 were happy and contented ; her homes gave every indi- 
 cation of elegance, abundance, and order ; her labor was 
 ample, well organized, well provided and cared for, and 
 peaceful, and satisfied. 
 
 Let the contrast explain the nature of secession, while 
 it presents the true character of Republican government. 
 
PART II. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 " To be, or not to be ? that is the question : 
 Whether 't is nobler in the mind, to suffer 
 The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, 
 Or to take arms against a sea of troubles." 
 
 THE author need not be told that he violates all the 
 established rules of author-craft, in allowing nearly — 
 years to elapse between the beginning and end of the story, 
 which he has promised to relate. He is perfectly aw^are 
 that his work is not secundum artem, that is, according to 
 the laws of the critics, yet he has no fears, deprecating no 
 censure, nor courting any favor — growing bolder even as 
 he goes. 
 
 " Bravo ! " quoth the critics ; " now, boaster, let 's have 
 fewer words and more performance toward this defiant 
 violation of our power and law^s — let's see thee try the 
 strength of the bulwarks and battlements that protect the 
 sacred art of book-writing." 
 
 " And bravo for thee! " quoths the author ; " and now that 
 our blades are drawn, and the scabbards thrown away, 
 there's nothing to do but come to time, and at it. Let the 
 strong help themselves, and God help the weak." 
 
 Then go forth, my book, neither fearing, nor caring. 
 
 A novel! — and what's a novel? but the ideal repre- 
 sentation of human life, as the author believes it to have been, 
 or to be. The type of some one human life or more, and 
 nothing but a prurient itching for small details would 
 demand a consecutive narrative, w^here there is nothing to 
 relate. Therefore, good reader, it is my design to leap over 
 
 320^ 
 
BLOOM AND BRIER. 321 
 
 all intermediate events in the lives of our old friends, in Part 
 First of our story, and come at once to the concluding scenes. 
 
 The present fallen condition of the South, from its once 
 proud eminence, so far from being a source of shame to her 
 people, is her highest title to .immortal fame ; and clothing 
 itself in all the noblest adornments of chivalry, she scorn- 
 fully rebukes the truculence of the conqueror, even in her 
 powerless but fearless sorrow. 
 
 In her lineage, her character, her intellect, her institu- 
 tions, and her wealth, she stood boldly before the world, 
 the bright cynosure of its envious gaze ; and from it never 
 fell, till her shield was pierced by a shaft from every nation 
 of the earth, and now lies like a " warrior taking his rest," 
 shrouded with a spear from every armory of the world. 
 
 Her grand old life in the past, the phases which fore- 
 shadowed her overthrow, her subsequent chivalry, vicissi- 
 tude, and misfortune, are all the property of the historian, 
 and not of the novelist, and are already traced by the 
 styles of time on the illuminated pages of eternity; while 
 the mingling light of a dazzling glory, and a tenderer grief 
 will ever be brightly reflected from the jewelled diadem 
 which her gallantry has placed upon her brow. 
 
 The intervening years between that period at which we 
 left off our story, and that at which we see proper to resume 
 it, were passed by our former acquaintances, much after the 
 usual fashion of Southern life, making such allowances for 
 the accidents of human existence, as may be supposed to 
 occur in that length of time. 
 
 Great prosperity, and perfect peace in its social, domestic, 
 and political history, marked their course, and yet there 
 were causes at work which, though they did not appear on 
 the surface, were destined to destroy all of this at no distant 
 period. A pseudo-moral party, marching under the colors 
 of emancipation, bearing along every symbol of earnest 
 
322 BLOOM AXD BRIER. 
 
 philanthropy before it, with a frenzy only equalled by the 
 early crusades — came to the rescue f of the African slave, 
 from the crxiel grasp of him, who alone had civilized him. 
 Organizing under the constructions and influence of that 
 fanatical, fatal, but senseless sciolism of an " irrepressible 
 conflict," in American organization and interests; and pre- 
 tending at the same time, to be the only true representative 
 of Northern sentiment and feeling — it gradually acquired 
 the position of holding the balance of power between the 
 two leading national parties in the Northern States, and 
 subsequently controlled them both. 
 
 This party was, of course, of an exclusive Northern 
 paternity. But while this was going on at the Northern 
 end of the Republic, there existed another party at the 
 Southern end, rather more compact, but with none of the 
 insignia of fanaticism to commend it to the ignorant mul- 
 titude, and consequently had grown but slowly. 
 
 This latter party stood boldly against all assumed powers, 
 or afiirmative authority of any kind, on the part of the 
 General Government, and boasted of having in its ranks 
 many of the greatest intellects of the South. The North- 
 ern party were the followers of Hamilton, and represented 
 the centripetal forces of the Government, while the South- 
 ern, were the advocates of Mr. Jefierson's doctrines, and 
 represented the centrifugal forces of the States, and arro- 
 gated a representation of Southern feeling and opinion ; 
 and though it had for many years stood almost still in its 
 growth, was suddenly stimulated to full size by the fall of 
 the Whig party, under Mr. Clay, and now indeed did em- 
 brace all of a large majority of the Southern people within 
 its influence and control. 
 
 In this manner the two old national parties — Whig and 
 Democrat — became absorbed by the two sectional ones 
 that had grown up, and which, for the first time, fairly met 
 in the Presidential canvass of eighteen hundred and sixty. 
 
BLOOM AXD BRIER. 323 
 
 The Northern, led by Lincoln, bore inscribed on its ban- 
 ners every wild, fanatical measure which had ever been 
 hinted at, with a view to enlisting the sympathies of the 
 vast and ignorant hordes of the North in the intended 
 crusade upon the South. 
 
 The Southern, led by Breckinridge, came to the contest, 
 not only armed with every doctrine of the " State Rights " 
 party, but with the very fire of hell burning in their 
 bosoms for the ivrongs which the Northern people had, for 
 a few years, endeavored to inflict upon them. 
 
 Probably it is but fair to say that the leaders of each 
 lashed their followers into the highest possible rage, by 
 every possible extravagance of representation as to the 
 fiendish purposes of the other. They met in the canvass of 
 1860, and Mr. Lincoln carried the election overwhelmingly. 
 By this result the South now plainly saw her immense infe- 
 riority of numbers, and should have been cautioned as to 
 her course ; but she was not, and went on even more defi- 
 antly to that fatal climax of modern error, Secession. 
 
 Against this course, the united conservative voice of the 
 South protested, with all the earnestness it dared to exhibit 
 in the face of the maddened multitude, even until hushed 
 by the roar of the cannon, and the carnage of the battle- 
 field, and is not responsible for the ruin of her people and 
 the devastation of her homes. 
 
 CHAPTER IL 
 
 " With grave 
 Aspect he rose, and in his rising seemed 
 A pillar of State.'' 
 
 SO soon as it was definitely ascertained that Lincoln was 
 elected. Governor Moore, in accordance with the pre- 
 vious legislation, looking to the success of the Black-Repub- 
 
324 BLOOM A^'D BRIER. 
 
 lican party, called a Convention of the State, to consider the 
 necessity of withdrawing from the Union. 
 
 Colonel Haywood was still a citizen of the State, and 
 having long held a prominent position in its public affairs, 
 and having been a leading spirit in the advocacy of the 
 right of a State to secede, had been nominated as one of 
 the candidates for the Convention, and wa^ borne into it 
 most triumphantly, on the swollen current that flowed in 
 that direction. 
 
 Henry Brandon, who for several years had been leading 
 the life of a wealthy planter, resolved on canvassing his 
 county for the same position, as an independent candidate ; 
 and though he proclaimed himself opposed to the alter- 
 native, or remedy of secession, was elected by a most flat- 
 tering majority — attributable, however, to his personal 
 popularity, and not to the popularity of his opinions. 
 
 The appointed time for the assembling of the Convention 
 had come, and a full membership was present. In addition 
 to these, a large, wealthy, and fashionable company, com- 
 posed of both sexes, had met at the capital, with a view 
 to enjoying the gayety and spirit of the extraordinary 
 occasion. Madness, confidence, and a reckless hilarity ruled 
 the hour, and reigned paramount in all ranks of society, 
 particularly among those who were of the original State- 
 Rights school, looking upon themselves as movers in the 
 great cause of Southern rights. 
 
 There was, nevertheless, a large number of members, 
 who were bitterly opposed to Secession, yet seemed to have 
 no power over the current that was sweeping against 
 them, and said but little. Had they, or could they have 
 made more effort, the State would never have perpetrated 
 that stupendous folly. 
 
 The talent of the Secession party was fully represented, 
 that of the Conservative, not so much so, as many of the best 
 men of the State had felt disinclined to exposing them- 
 
B L O O M AND B lU E R . 325 
 
 selves to popular opprobrium, and had refused to be candi- 
 dates. Indeed, it required nothing but the highest order 
 of moral courage to oppose the maddened course of South- 
 ern feeling. 
 
 Several days after the Convention met, Colonel Haywood 
 introduced a set of resolutions bearing upon the occasion, 
 requesting that they be brought up the next day on a 
 second reading. 
 
 It was, of course, expected that he would support them 
 in an elaborated speech. At the appointed hour on the 
 succeeding dav, every lobby of the chamber, and all the 
 galleries were filled to overflowing. Up to this time there 
 had been some difficulty found in getting the proposition of 
 Secession through, on anything like a vnanimons vote, and 
 the resolutions of Colonel Haywood were framed with a view 
 to meeting this hesitation: his speech was consequently 
 looked forward to, with deep interest. 
 
 Rising and calling up his resolutions, with an air of con- 
 fidence and authority denoting the acknowledged leader, 
 it was not long before he was at the full height of his 
 argument, his mind working with the speed and power of 
 an electric battery. In both personal and moral couracre, 
 there was nothing mortal to surpass him. He feared nothing, 
 and courted any responsibility, and yet was wanting in 
 many of those minor qualities, so essential to successful 
 oratory, which flow from kind and gentle emotions. He 
 was by nature a revolutionary agitator and leader, but not 
 a conspirator, nor possessed of the insinuating eloquence 
 of a conspirator, and nature had endowed him with all 
 necessary qualities, by setting no bounds to his ambition, or 
 limits to his daring. The meeting of this Convention was 
 the culminating period of his life, and his addressing it on 
 this occasion, the culminating hour of that period. His 
 mind flashed, flamed, and corruscated in all the jewelled 
 affluence which the occasion, to him, presented. Tliose 
 28 
 
326 BLOOM AXD BRIER. 
 
 who thought with him became even more confirmed, while 
 the doubtful came over, and the obstinate trembled. The 
 final vote on his resolutions, some two or three days subse- 
 quently, was the proudest achievement of his life, which 
 soon died away to sorrow and to darkness, never to rekindle 
 again its noble fire. 
 
 It had been the expectation of his friends that he would 
 be the ruling spirit of the great movement, but for some over- 
 cautious reason, another was selected to direct its destinies. 
 
 It is not too late or too soon, to hazard the opinion of 
 his more superior excellence for the position, and had he 
 been selected to drive the fortunes of the South along, on 
 the thundering, crashing track of revolution, as it really 
 was, instead of the more cautious but equally tenacious 
 Davis, to lead them in the open ways of an acknowledged 
 constitutional government, the end would at least have been 
 different. His address upon this occasion was truthful in 
 its assertions, chivalric in its tone, and picturesque in its 
 representations, yet it was an exaggerated drawing of our 
 past wrongs and future destiny, and, certainly, a very great 
 error in statesmanship. It was bold and masterly in its 
 spirit and execution, adroit, plausible, and inflammatory in 
 construction and arrangement, and exactly suited to hurry 
 the Convention on to the point which he so much desired. 
 When Colonel Haywood concluded, the Convention ad- 
 journed; Mr. Brandon having previously signified that he 
 would reply to him on the following day. 
 
 Again the capitol was crowded with an audience, who 
 were anxious to hear an argument against the course which 
 now appeared to be inevitable, and from a man, too, almost 
 entirely unknown to the political coteries of the State. 
 
 He rose as calmly as if only before an audience of chil- 
 dren, and proceeded in a cool and methodical manner to a 
 scathing rebuke of the course which the Convention was 
 on the verge of adopting, of the prejudices and fallacies of 
 
BLOOM AND BRIER. 327 
 
 Colonel Haywood, and of the illegitimacy and fearful conse- 
 quences of Secession. 
 
 He was listened to with the profoiindest attention, and 
 his points evidently had the most serious influence; so much 
 so, that it was thought proper to defer any final action for 
 several days. 
 
 These were the two leading efforts before the Convention : 
 the remainder were pieces of patchwork and lobbying, and 
 through the machinery of the latter the question was finally 
 carried by a small majority. 
 
 The proposition was then made, to make the vote unan- 
 imous ; to which nearly all of the delegates consented. * 
 Brandon refused, saying that it was but a mere fiction, there- 
 fore too ridiculous for consideration ; that it was nothing 
 short of revolution, let what would be said about its consti- 
 tutionality, and while he opposed it, both in principle and 
 in practice, he yet would go as far as he that dared go 
 farthest: that his opposition was not a desertion of, how- 
 ever he might diflTer with his people. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 "Ay, I knew her well ; 
 She was my friend in early youth." 
 
 THOUGH there were numbers of both members of the 
 Convention and citizens, who felt all the inherent 
 gloom of the condition, yet, as a general thing, a joy and 
 a glow of chivalric excitement rested on the bosom of 
 society, which well expressed the gayety and the daring 
 of Southern character. 
 
 On the day that the ordinance of Secession was finally 
 passed, there were but few men bearing a respectable rela- 
 
328 BLOOM AND BRIER. 
 
 tion to society, who would have dared to express disappro- 
 bation of the measure. Treason was too good a name for 
 opposition, and wouki have been treated as such by the 
 first man who heard it uttered. 
 
 Expressive of this feeling, a hall was given on the night 
 of the adjournment of the Convention, by the military com- 
 panies of the city, to which the members were particularly 
 invited, and perhaps there has never been a finer display 
 of Southern intelligence, chivalry, beauty, and abandon, 
 than was represented there that night. There was, too, 
 everything in the surroundings to entrance the senses, and 
 to lead the hesitating out into the deep current of popular 
 feeling and hilarity. Altogether, the occasion was a car- 
 nival scene of gallantry, wit, wealth, beauty, and joyousness, 
 which it will ever be difficult to excel, and certainly not 
 likely to be even equalled under the present coarse, vulgar, 
 and tyrannical governmental regime. 
 
 The prevailing feeling appeared to be that of escaping 
 from further association with a people, Avho for years had 
 respected neither the laws of amenity, decency, or humanity, 
 in their relations to them ; and that, henceforth, they were 
 to be a people to themselves ; homogeneous in blood, feel- 
 ing, sentiment, interests, and pursuits. 
 
 Happy ! but fatal delusion ! Could that gay assemblage 
 of men and women have sufficiently penetrated the future 
 to see the terrible calamities of a four-years' civil war, and 
 the miserable degradations to which the conqueror would 
 subject them at its close, a chill feeling would have crept 
 through their warm veins, and warned them to an adjourn- 
 ment of these mocking festivities. 
 
 Brandon was present ; for while he had opposed the 
 measure which these festivities were in honor of, with all the 
 earnestness and eloquence of a mind that clearly foresaw 
 the disastrous failure which must inevitably follow it, he 
 yet did not see proper to divide off from his people, nor was 
 
BLOOM AND B K 1 E K. 329 
 
 he even disposed to lose the pleasure of so gay an hour, for a 
 mere difforence of opinion, and therefore entered, with hi3 
 natural zest of such enjoyments, into the reckless but ele- 
 gant hilarity of the eyening. 
 
 The splendid military band had already played several 
 of its spirited pieces, among others, two that afterward 
 became so fiimously national in the South — "Dixie" and 
 the "Bonnie Blue Flag" — and sets were now forming for 
 the dance. 
 
 It would be unjust to say that this music had not 
 imparted to Brandon's feelings all the glow which it was 
 calculated to inspire, and did inspire in others ; and as he 
 stood off rather to himself, enjoying its combined sweetness, 
 its wildaway grandeur, and the gay scenes before him, 
 his eye fell upon his old college friend, Randolph Ray, 
 who had just entered the hall, with Mrs. Ray upon his arm. 
 
 Mr. Ray had been, for more than three years, a United 
 States Senator from x\labama, but being a prominent advo- 
 cate of secession, he had remained at home during this 
 winter, for the purpose of urging the adoption of that 
 course, and had been present during the session of the Con- 
 vention, with a view to assisting in placing the question 
 beyond uncertainty. Working with his whole energy, and 
 using his entire influence, he now felt all the gratification 
 of success. 
 
 Brandon had met with him repeatedly during the time 
 the Ojnvention had been in session, for the first time, how- 
 ever, since they had separated at college; having renewed 
 their old intimacy, they had had many arguments in 
 regard to the course which it was proposed that the State 
 should adopt, neither, however, had been able to influence 
 the other, but had always ended their debates in the friend- 
 liest spirit. Brandon had very often been in company with 
 Mrs. Ray. whom he found to be quite as formidable an adver- 
 sary to A?> views as her husband was, possessing, as she 
 28* 
 
330 BLOOM AXD BKIER, 
 
 did, a very high order of intellect, and a clear understand- 
 ing of political affairs; with a face distinguished for the 
 softness of its beauty, and manners of the most fascinating 
 character, she had even superior advantages for playing 
 the role of Madame de Stael. He had never met with her, 
 however, outside of the small quasi-political circles that 
 always revolve around such places, nor had he yet called 
 upon her, as he had several times intended to do, and had 
 been really desirous of doing, on account of his own wife, 
 who had been an early friend of Mrs. Kay, but of which 
 fact the latter was ignorant. 
 
 Standing, as we have said, rather to himself, as he saw 
 them enter the room, Brandon immediately approached 
 them. The pleasure of meeting was mutual, and very soon 
 an animated conversation was going on between them ; in 
 the course of which Ray remarked, that he was pleasantly 
 surprised to see him present at the Secession festival. 
 
 "Ah, my good fellow," replied Brandon, "you measure 
 my grain by your meal-tub. I never allow my political 
 opinions to invade ray social pleasures — and to give an 
 instance of my sincerity, have come to ask Mrs. Ray to be 
 my partner in the dance." Then turning to her, he said, 
 "Madam, these beautiful airs, and the gayety of the 
 scenes about me, if not the occasion, have re-inspired me 
 with the passion of my young days. Will you confer this 
 desired pleasure ? " 
 
 " I must accept your invitation, Mr. Brandon, both as a 
 pleasure and as a distinguished compliment ; but, sir, you 
 must look upon the acceptance, as I do upon the invita- 
 tion, after I tell you that, something at the suggestion of 
 age, but more," she added, smilingly, " at the suggestion 
 of Mr. Ray, I have declined to dance upon any occasion 
 during the whole winter." 
 
 " I revoke, Henrietta, both the suggestion of age and my 
 
BLOOM AND BRIER. 331 
 
 own, and even command you to dance with my once very 
 gay, but now very solemn friend," replied Mr. Ray to his 
 wife. 
 
 " I am obliged to you, Ray, for your opportune revocals, 
 and also for your grim comments upon myself." Then 
 turning to Mrs. Ray, said, " But I claim, madam, the ben- 
 efit of both." 
 
 They then walked out on the floor, and in a few mo- 
 ments more they were floating on the full tide of music, to 
 the light measures of the fantastic art. 
 
 While dancing, Brandon said to her, that he had not 
 advanced any particular claim to her hand, as his partner, 
 but that he really had both, a particular and a double one. 
 "One of which is, that you are the wife of my old college 
 friend ; and the other is — one of which you are not aware 
 — but in virtue of one and the other, I shall in future 
 claim more intimate terms of acquaintance." 
 
 " But, Mr. Brandon, let me assure you that a very im- 
 portant one, and only personal to yourself, has not been 
 considered — is there still another?" 
 
 " There is, madam." 
 
 " Pray, tell it to me. I already grow impatient to be 
 informed." 
 
 " Yes ; well, I shall have to begin the story with all the 
 romantic circumlocution of a novel, as the facts and the 
 characters possess a rare fragrance of sentimentality and 
 interest." 
 
 "Ah, well, sir, to the story." 
 
 " I would, but we have to dance." 
 
 " Very well." 
 
 Having again returned to their places, she again asked 
 for the story. 
 
 " Now, Mr. Brandon, begin." 
 
 " I suppose I must, though it appears to grow in length 
 and difficulty as I approach it." 
 
332 BLOOM AND BRIER. 
 
 " Let me insist that you immediately begin it, Mr. Bran- 
 don, after some fashion. Your dallying sentimentality is 
 even more provoking than your primitive politics, excuse 
 me." 
 
 " Certainly, but I must indeed be very provoking then, 
 since I see the interest which is taken, of late, by your sex, 
 in ' progressive American ' affairs." 
 
 "Very good, I will stand the repartee, provided I get 
 you to the story — don't stop," she said, as they again en- 
 tered the dance, " we can do both ; at least, you can relate, 
 and I can listen." 
 
 " Just so, but that is a slight reversal of the course of 
 things : men are the listeners now-a-days, and women the 
 talkers." 
 
 "Somewhat as you say, but we will discuss that point at 
 another time — the story now." 
 
 " As you say ; then in the spring of 18 — , but no matter 
 when, suffice it, that on a winter's day, not a century since, 
 I had the good fortune to meet a young girl, with whom I 
 have since passed many blissful years, and who, to-night, is 
 at my country home, with a little brood around her, that 
 doth call her mother. This earthly angel of my heart 
 hath often told me, in our long winter-evening talks, of 
 the friends and pleasures of her joyous youth, and often 
 hath she dwelt, with a brightened eye, and a pleasing mem- 
 ory, on the name of one, who since then hath soared so 
 high as to have forgot, mayhap, a friend, whose wing hath 
 been never spread, nor glittered in the bright skies of pop- 
 ular applause. The name was indeed a pretty one, and if 
 I remember right, 't was Henrietta Terrence." 
 
 " Mr. Brandon," she exclaimed, stepping slightly back 
 and clasping her hands in expectation, "do tell me the 
 maiden name of Mrs. Brandon ! " 
 
 " Mary Gray." 
 
 " Mary Gray ? Mary Gray ! " 
 
BLOOM AND D E I E R. 333 
 
 " Ay, Mary Gray." 
 
 " Oh, sir, she was the bosom friend of my school-girl 
 days ; and you certainly have even more than a double 
 claim upon me. And Mary Gray is Mrs. Brandon ? How 
 is she, and where is she ? " 
 
 " She is well, or was a few days since, and as I told you, 
 at our country home to-night, with a happy little brood of 
 children at her feet. How do you like the beginning of 
 my story ? " 
 
 ** Oh, most handsomely told ; and I am satisfied, too, 
 that what Mr. Ray has very often said, since meeting you 
 here, is even more than true, since I know that Mary Gray 
 would never have chosen a husband from the common 
 herd, or one that she did not know could not only reflect 
 honor on himself, but upon her too." 
 
 " Indeed ! What flattering tale hath Ray indulged his 
 fancy in, respecting one so unpretending as I have been ? " 
 
 " Why, just as you say, unpretending and unaspiring, 
 you had never done yourself justice, nor been done justice 
 to, else you would long since have been in public life." 
 
 " I am obliged to him, indeed, for his flattering opinion; 
 and perhaps 'tis both — perhaps neither. I have no ta.ste 
 for public life, nor any appreciation of public honors ; and 
 outside of what I considered a private duty, I should never 
 have come to this Convention. You must not think that what 
 I am going to say has any personal reference or application, 
 but I really have a cool contempt for any office which the 
 American people can bestow — take the least possible inter- 
 est in party questions — seldom attend an election; and 
 when I see the very exceptional means resorted to for 
 the purpose of obtaining positions, and the style of men 
 who almost universally secure them, my contempt amounts 
 to a loathing, both of the offices and the officers. The 
 only wonder is that this evil day has not come upon us 
 before. Political life, by degrees, has assumed all the mean 
 
334 BLOOM AND BRIER. 
 
 stringency of a low order of Free-Masonry, by which all 
 petty aspirants are enabled to secure public positions in 
 their turn, and by some sort of black-balling system, to 
 exclude all men of a better style of mind than them- 
 selves." 
 
 " I presume there is much truth in what you say ; and 
 I very often hear Mr. Ray speak of the disgusting means 
 necessary to success. But, then, men of intellect should 
 never abandon the field, else why was intellect given ? and 
 what would soon become of society, if inferior men are per- 
 mitted to control it ? " 
 
 " Yes, that is the correct position ; but disgust is a very 
 strong feeling or sentiment, and very often paralyzes effort. 
 But we have to dance again." 
 
 They soon returned to their places, when Mrs. Ray 
 resumed by saying : 
 
 " Well, let me insist, for Mary Gray's sake, at least, that 
 for the future you do not allow such feelings to influence 
 you ; and now that you have begun, never permit yourself 
 to tire, while you feel that you are right. Now, sir, how 
 pleasant it would have been to us both, for Mary to have 
 been in Washington with me ! It would have been our 
 old 'Patapsco' life over again — perpetual youth. You 
 have let your old comrade in letters lead you, in conferring 
 honors on his wife, at least." 
 
 She said this with a playful badinage, which induced 
 Brandon to reply : 
 
 " Ah ! Ray has just got his grist in first, and I fear, from 
 present appearances, the good fellow will get it ground out 
 sooner than he expects it." 
 
 " Come, Mr. Brandon, I see your allusion, but shall not 
 talk politics with you. You have yourself suggested a 
 more pleasing subject — your wife, and my friend." 
 
 The dance was now ended, and Brandon led her to a 
 seat, taking one by her side. They were enjoying a famil- 
 
BLOOM AND E R I K R . 335 
 
 iar and social talk, when Ray came up, with Mr.-. Shel- 
 don on his arm, with whom he had also been dancinof. 
 
 Mi*s. Sheldon was the wife of a member of Congress 
 from Alabama, and was held to be one of the most attrac- 
 tive females who visited the great American Capital. Bran- 
 don had known her for several years, but had not met her 
 during the evening, before this. The meeting was very 
 agreeable to them both, and they were not long in getting 
 into a pleasant conversation. 
 
 " Brandon," said ^Ir. Ray, " I saw by the way in which 
 Henrietta and yourself began the evening, that it was to 
 be a sort of an epitomized mutual-admiration society. I 
 therefore set immediately out in search of some one to 
 supply her place ; and you see what success I met with. 
 For the first time in five years I went through all the 
 giddy mazes of a dance with Mrs. Sheldon, who took pity 
 on my forlorn appearance, and has, moreover, promised to 
 patronize me for the entire evening, if the engagement 
 between yourself and Henrietta is to last so long." 
 
 "Yes, Mr. Ray, but only with th^ consent of Mrs. Ray," 
 said Mrs. Sheldon, pleasantly. 
 
 " Certainly, Mrs. Sheldon, I very cheerfully resign all 
 claim to the gay young gentleman for the evening, as I 
 have a double labor of love and duty to perform in the 
 case of Mr. Brandon, the first, in requiring him to tell me 
 about his wife, who is an old friend of mine, and next, in 
 having him explain to me w^hy he is so far in the rear of the 
 present excitement. Southern opinion, and feeling, rather." 
 
 Mrs. Sheldon now joining more familiarly in the conver- 
 sation, remarked, in support of the last remark of Mrs. 
 Ray : 
 
 "Yes, Mr. Brandon, we all hold you amenable to the 
 charge of pure perverseness, as the clear and brilliant effort 
 you made in the Convention certainly forbids us bringing 
 any other." 
 
336 BLOOM AND BRIER. 
 
 " Were my years less advanced, ladies, my gallantry 
 would persuade me to yield to this pleasing pressure, but 
 as age is but a synonym for obstinacy and obduracy, I find 
 myself compelled to remain in my present position." 
 
 " Intellect," replied Mrs. Ray, " is not individual property, 
 but public, and the world has a right to command its ser- 
 vices; and we, as part of the world, inform you that we 
 cannot do without yours — what does Mary say to you in 
 regard to this matter?" 
 
 " Oh, she pretends to be quite out of patience, and quite 
 as ready as any of her sex, to fire the Ephesian dome, if 
 she could only imagine Greeley, or Seward, or Lincoln, on 
 the top of it." 
 
 "I am satisfied she is with us, if her spirit has not lost 
 its youthful ring, and I am only astonished that she has 
 not controlled you more than she has." 
 
 "Yes, I have rather taunted some of my friends, witli 
 being directed by their wives in this matter: it looks very 
 like female work." 
 
 "Ah, you do your own sex injustice, Mr. Brandon," said 
 Mrs. Sheldon; "as up to the time of this Mr. Lincoln's 
 election, my husband was seriously opposed to the then pro- 
 posed measure of redress, and would not even discuss it with 
 any one, looking upon it as a pure political heresy, and 
 would not believe that the Northern people were so lost to 
 all sense of justice as to elect a man holding such opinions. 
 But his success has led him to believe that the North 
 must design crushing us, and that secession is a matter of 
 necessity, not a political consideration, nor one of state-craft, 
 and I think the inference correct, from the fact, that Mr. 
 Lincoln has never been associated with either of the great 
 national parties of the country as a leader, nor with any- 
 thing except that of * Abolition.' Entirely without edu- 
 cation, and without reputation beyond that of a common 
 jester, he must have been selected to carry out this tcr- 
 
BLOOM AND BRIER. 337 
 
 rible purpose alone. Kor is it singular that such a man 
 should have been selected for this work, as it is oftener so 
 than otherwise, that coarse jesters conceal the most brutal 
 character." 
 
 " In behalf of the State, I thank you, Mrs. Sheldon. It 
 needs IMr. Brandon's services, and must have them," said 
 Ur. Ray. 
 
 "Come, Ray, it is I that require help, and not these 
 ladies, and I protest against your assisting them. • Moreover, 
 I have already offered such service, as this thing you call 
 'peaceable secession' will certainly render it necessary — 
 but, Mrs. Sheldon, will you allow me to." 
 
 Before he could conclude his remarks, the band had 
 filled the hall with the deep voluptuous swell of one of its 
 finest pieces, and next proceeded by request to repeat that 
 strange wild air, half-martial, and half-plaintive, "Dixie;" 
 which by some means had already become famous as a sort 
 of Southern slogan, and possessing, as it did, the peculiar 
 power of rousing passion, sentiment, and that feeling of 
 romantic resentment, which an oppressed people might be 
 supposed to entertain, had its full share of responsibility 
 for the excitement of the day. 
 
 The entire company, as if by one consent, hushed their 
 voices into attentive silence, as the band flung out its rap- 
 turous notes. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 *'\Ve must be free or die, who speak the tongue 
 That Shakespeare spak«." 
 
 BRANDON was the first to break the silence when the 
 music hushed, and said to Mrs. Ray, with a laugh, 
 that the band ought to be prosecuted for encouraging 
 29 
 
338 BLOOM AND BPwIER. 
 
 seditious impulses, and being accessory to treason. "Just 
 such music as that encourages you all to assume the posi- 
 tion of great sufferers, and willing martyrs." 
 
 " Why, Brandon," said Ray, " I fear you are becoming 
 really barbaric in your tastes. You speak of that beauti- 
 fully wild and tender air with the coldness of one who 
 has no generous emotions." 
 
 " Yes," said Mrs. Sheldon ; "and affects to be unmoved; 
 but I think the very fact of his attempted disparagement 
 shows that he felt its influence." 
 
 " Oh ! you mistake, madam ; I do profess to be very 
 greatly influenced. I believe all Southern people to be 
 more sensible to the influence of music than others. In- 
 deed, that * language of the soul' only reaches perfection in 
 Southern lands, and therefore has a greater influence there 
 than elsewhere. The only sweet-singing birds belong to 
 the tropics; the sweetest human voices are all but univer- 
 sally from Southern countries, and we may remark too, that 
 there is far more softness in the natural sounds of Southern 
 climes. The softVhispers of the Southern breeze are pro- 
 verbially acknowledged, and the murmer of the sea on the 
 Southern coasts is well known for its sighing beauty ; and 
 yet. Southern latitudes are as peculiar for the grandeur of 
 their thunder-storms, and, pardon me, for the temper of its 
 people, too." 
 
 "You are correct, Brandon," replied Mr. Eay. "North- 
 ern latitudes furnish but little to the romantic, the senti- 
 mental, or the musical world — indeed, furnish but little 
 to life in any way, but its rudenesses, its prejudices, and its 
 endurances — and wrapping their people in some sort of 
 wild fanaticism, they themselves mistake it for spirituality, 
 stern virtue, and great moral courage." 
 
 "You must allow me to agree w^ith you also, Mr. Bran- 
 don," said Mrs. Sheldon ; " but then, I am a little astonished 
 
li L () ( ) M AND BRIER. 339 
 
 at your endorsement of anything Southern, to the prejudice 
 of either Northern people or countries." 
 
 "It is not the first time, madam, that I have been mis- 
 understood, nor will it be the last, I imagine," replied 
 Brandon, a little sharply, and added — "my opinions are 
 exactly the reverse ; and that, in regard to secession, does 
 not refer to the people, nor the country, from which this 
 State has now withdrawn as a political integer. I view 
 the movement from an entirely different stand-point, and 
 look upon it as an effort to establish a sort of political 
 isotherm, and not as a social movement ; and as such, a 
 violation of all the natural laws of governmental science ; 
 and should look upon it in the same light, even if the 
 Northern people were ten times more disagreeable than 
 they are, and their country lay around the North Pole itself. 
 I know too, that the Southern people are the very least 
 fitted to become revolutionists : their social organization, 
 their imperial and chivalric notions, unfit them for the rude 
 scenes of protracted civil war ; they naturally love all the 
 pomp and circumstance of strong, well-organized govern- 
 ment. This secessional movement cannot, therefore, be 
 viewed too sorrowfully — as fatal to their prosperity, their 
 happiness, their distinctiveness, and their individuality." 
 
 The music and the occasion had by this time suffused 
 every face with an incandescence of ecstasy and delight, and 
 every heart seemed to yearn for the clash of arms. 
 
 The " CAUSE " appeared forgotten in the prospect of a 
 display of Southern chivalry. Young girls now promised 
 to buckle on the swords and spears of their young lovers ; 
 and young lovers sealed their vows of truth and faith with 
 the promise of honor or death. This feeling was all aglow 
 when the master of ceremonies called out " get your part- 
 ners." And there gallantly walked out on the floor those 
 with bright and happy faces and brave hearts, basking in 
 the geniality of the hour, and tht sweet and blushing 
 
340 BLOOM AND BRIER. 
 
 approval of their lady-loves, who never came to claim the 
 guerdon of their love and chivalry ; but, before the summer 
 had come and gone, lay stiff and stark in the cold embraces 
 of the battle-field. 
 
 Brandon now asked Mrs. Kay and Mrs. Sheldon, if they 
 had any engagements for the set. 
 
 '' No ; we have not," replied both of the ladies at once ; 
 " and I," added Mrs. Ray, " as I have said to you, dance 
 but seldom, and only did so to-night in special compliment 
 to Mr. Brandon." 
 
 "I am yours to command, madam," he replied with a 
 smile ; "and Mr. Brandon is obliged to Mrs. Ray for so dis- 
 tinguished a mark of favor, and will remember it as such." 
 
 "And I," said Mrs. Sheldon, "only danced in compli- 
 ment to Mr. Ray." 
 
 " There, Brandon," said Mr. Ray, " only contemplate the 
 great obligation we are under — such a weight could not be 
 easily borne, were not the substance so spiritual." 
 
 " And the spirituality so substantial in its own support," 
 replied Mrs. Sheldon, who was growing a little embonpoint. 
 " But, ]\Ir. Ray, you are appearing in a new character — 
 long as I have known you, I do not recollect to have seen 
 you aspire to the giddy height of so gallant a speech." 
 
 " Ah, you have only known him, madam," said Brandon, 
 " since he has been in that arena which calls for strata- 
 gem, treason, and spoils ; had you known him, as I have, 
 in the days of his youth and innocence, you would have 
 heard many such, and better." 
 
 " Tell me, Brandon," replied Ray, interrupting him, 
 " how it is that I find you and myself to have so completely 
 changed positions. At college you were always on the top- 
 wave of excitement, while I was out in some quiet eddy; 
 now, I am riding on the dashing, foaming billow, and you 
 have floated off into the still waters. Why is it? " 
 
 " Simply for the reason that I soonest exhausted that 
 
BLOOM AND BRIER. 341 
 
 element which to a greater or less extent enters into every 
 man's character — a certain sort of sympathy with anything 
 novel, exciting, and adventurous — corrected in some per- 
 sons by age, modified in others by experience, and yet in 
 others again, runs riot to the \Gry funeral. 
 
 " Then," said Mrs. Ray, smiling, " you think my husband, 
 and they who agree with him, as but just entering upon the 
 actual experience of life, and the present movement but an 
 evidence of the want of it." 
 
 " Expressed most admirably, madame. I am most truly 
 indebted to you for the happy question, giving, as you did, 
 its very best answer." 
 
 " Well, Brandon, you know the wdierefores of our action, 
 and it is not worth while to repeat them. But if we had 
 no other cause for our course, that infamous affair of old 
 Brown at Harper's Ferry would justify us, endorsed, as it 
 was, by the party now in power. While I well know the 
 dangers that threaten us in the undertaking, I yet had 
 rather suffer in the attempt to quit such a Union, than to 
 be degraded in it ; I prefer an honorable death to a despic- 
 able life, or a cowardly peace. If we can only secure peace 
 at the price of our honor, better to be exterminated — and 
 the sooner the better. We can make a proud history, if 
 we cannot secure our rights." 
 
 " Yes ; that is all very commendable, but you must re- 
 member that all of us have n't the same amount of nerve, 
 wherewith to meet this exterminating process," said Bran- 
 don, laughing. 
 
 " Ah, secession will furnish you that gratis," replied Ray, 
 laughing in return. 
 
 "But seriously, Ray, those are all very noble senti- 
 ments, and are such as all men should cherish. You must 
 remember, however, that the laws which rule in state-craft, 
 are quite different from those that rule in private life. The 
 dusty old adages of * Honesty being the best policy,' 
 29* 
 
342 BLOOM AND BRIER. 
 
 * Cheating never thrives/ and so forth, scarcely hold good, 
 even in private life, and must not be interpreted too literally 
 in public affairs." 
 
 "You don't pretend to say that political science is a sys- 
 tem of dishonesty, do you, Brandon ? " 
 
 "I will not use your words, but I am almost willing to 
 use your meaning. Nature is only truly honest. Society 
 is a modification of nature, and what we call law. Civil 
 law is the offspring of society, and made by those who are 
 interested in the subject. Ergo, ex parte — ergo, selfish — 
 ergo, not very honest." 
 
 " You are radical — agrarian, Brandon." 
 
 " Ko ; far from it. Not so much as you are. I am even 
 an extremer advocate for society, but am willing to admit 
 its real character, and as it is expected to be when men 
 undertake to control the laws of nature, and have carried 
 that deviation into sl system. The exception is then made 
 the rule, and the rule necessarily dishonest. Society is an 
 invention of intellect and capital, and wars upon natural 
 justice, and the higher society advances, the more corrupt 
 its agencies become." 
 
 " I can't argue against such positions as you advance, 
 Brandon." 
 
 " No, I suppose not. You wish me to admit the rights 
 of natural law, under the sanctions of society. But let us 
 look ou, and discuss these matters some other time." 
 
 CHAPTER Y. 
 
 " Prithee, friend, 
 Canst tell me who that lady is?" 
 
 EVERY possible place in the room was now filled with 
 sets of dancers. The old mingled with the young, and 
 all seemed equally borne upon the gladsome and sparkling 
 
BLOOM AND BRIER. 343 
 
 current of the hour ; while young hearts glanced with love 
 and joy, old hearts caught the infection, and were living 
 over again the roseate hours of youth. 
 
 Mr. Ray had been called off by some gentlemen, and had 
 left Brandon in company with the two ladies. 
 
 In the set dancing nearest to them, was a couple whose 
 remarkable appearance and youthfulness — the young girl 
 for her beauty, and the youth for his gallant bearing and 
 handsome face — attracted the attention of Mrs. Ray, who 
 almost in a tone of exclamation asked Brandon who they 
 could possibly be. 
 
 "The young girl," replied Brandon, "is a niece of mine, 
 Alice Hunter, about fifteen, and the youth is a second 
 cousin of hers, McKenzie Campbell, and only a few months 
 older. The girl is indeed beautiful, and as intellectual 
 and spirited as she is beautiful. The youth is quite remark- 
 able, both for his mind and his manliness ; both of them 
 are boarding in the city, attending school. He is already 
 prepared to enter college, but his father has not wished to 
 send him from home while so young. He has been a mem- 
 ber of one of the military companies for some time, and 
 quite a pet with the members, which is the reason of his 
 being in military dress. He is a son of Colonel Campbell, 
 who, I believe, is one of your great iiien." 
 
 " Certainly, I know Colonel Campbell ; and he is a great 
 man, anywhere." 
 
 " Yes, perhaps so ; but the girl is a daughter of Thomas 
 Hunter, the State senator from this district, and my sister's 
 husband." 
 
 "Ah, I know him very well, and had missed him. 
 Where is he, that he has not been here ? " 
 
 " He does not approve this course, and has remained at 
 home, as I tell him, 'sulking;' but he says, 'gloomy'" 
 
 " I regret to learn that he looks so despondingly to the 
 future. Say to him that I was disappointed in not meeting 
 him." 
 
344 BLOOM AND BRIER. 
 
 " I will ; but changing the subject, can you tell me who 
 that very handsome girl is, with the long, curling, brown 
 hair, there dancing with that eccentric, but brilliant genius, 
 young Stafford ? '* 
 
 The young girl who had thus attracted his attention was 
 probably not over twenty years old, and her appearance 
 was of that peculiar character which universally fastens 
 the eye of the casual observer, and gives eminence in the 
 social circle, indicating a temperament which at once 
 expresses energy, spirit, gentleness, cheerfulness, and al- 
 ways accompanied by a high order of intellect. She was 
 full height, lithe in her figure, but not delicate, and rounded 
 at every point, with all the perfection of the most exquisite 
 art. Her head and face were models of Nature's own 
 sculpture. Her forehead was high and square, but not too 
 high, nor too square. Her eyes were deep-brown, lustrous, 
 and soft. Her hair w^as full, glossy, and a deep, pure 
 auburn, with a complexion that corresponded to these, 
 both in cast, tinge, and richness. At the moment of Bran- 
 don's asking this question, she was dancing with Mr. Staf- 
 ford, a young gentleman of handsome fortune, gay, eccen- 
 tric, highly educated, and well known in all the fashion- 
 able coteries of the State, and, like nearly all young men 
 of that style, had floated off in the current of Secession. 
 He was now present at the capital, as others were, for 
 enjoyment, and was the acknowledged admirer of Margaret 
 Sedley. 
 
 " Yes," replied Mrs. Ray, " she is a near relation of Mr. 
 Kay, a Virginian, an orphan, and a girl of some fortune. 
 She has been with us for two years, and came here in com- 
 pany with us. She is highly accomplished, and one of the 
 most brilliant girls I have ever met. I will introduce her 
 to you when the dance is over with. I think you will 
 admire her. She is already a great admirer of yours. 
 Hearing your reply to Colonel Haywood, she was quite 
 
BLOOM AND BRIER. 345 
 
 carried away with it, and said it was the only speech she. 
 ever heard that she really did admire. I think, though, 
 she said that to tease her uncle — as much as to say that 
 she had never admired any of his. I take occasion to tell 
 you this, so that you may be prepared to admire her" — 
 making the last remark with a smile — " and to foil any 
 prejudice you may have against her political opinions." 
 
 " I appreciate the compliment of her good opinion. She 
 is certainly one of the handsomest girls I have seen, and, 
 from her face, must have a high order of intellect. As to 
 her political opinions, they are but the result of the gen- 
 eral direction of affairs, for which no one, particularly, is 
 responsible, and but few can resist. In her case, it would 
 be difficult to resist the influence of her distinguished asso- 
 ciation." 
 
 " Thank you." 
 
 "I believe, Mr. Brandon," said Mrs. Sheldon, who had, 
 during this time, been conversing with some ladies sitting 
 by her, but had again turned to Brandon and Mrs. Ray, 
 "from what I gathered of your reply to Mrs. Ray, that 
 you think women rather reflect than originate opinions." 
 
 " I certainly think as you say, as a general truth ; but in 
 this special matter of Secession, leaving out the exact leaders 
 of it, I think your sex well up to papular opinion, if not 
 in advance. There is an equity about it, which is the base 
 of your opinions ; but what is of very nigh as great im- • 
 portance, it has a certain dash of chivalry about it, and 
 defiance, too, with a distant view of the clash of sabres, 
 and the silver bit of the war-horse, as he proudly bears into 
 the fight the plumed cavalier, which captivates the female 
 heart, even while it is the source of the tenderest grief." 
 
 "Your compliment is rather an equivocal one, Mr. 
 Brandon." 
 
 "I did not design my words to assume the form of com- 
 pliment, but of a/ac^." 
 
346 BLOOM AND BRIER. 
 
 The conversation now took a wider range, in which the 
 right of State secession, the moral, social, and economical 
 features of slavery, the particular and general effects of 
 its destruction upon society, were freely but summarily 
 reviewed ; and last, the question of a difference of race 
 between the Northern and Southern people, as evidenced 
 by each of them in their relationship to the different ques- 
 tions of the day. 
 
 The dance had again ended, and the dancers were marcli- 
 ing round the great hall in a grand promenade. 
 
 Brandon, seeing Margaret Sedley approaching them, 
 leaning on the arm of young Stafford, suddenly brought 
 the conversation to a close. Begging pardon of Mrs. 
 Sheldon for his abruptness, he turned to Mrs. Ray, and 
 reminded her of the promised introduction. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 " This is the very coinage of your brain." 
 
 WHEN nearly opposite, by a look from Mrs. Ray, Miss 
 Sedley and Mr. Stafford left the promenade, and 
 came to her. Brandon had frequently met with the gay 
 young gentleman, and had some acquaintance with him, 
 and as they met in the presence of Mrs. Ray, spoke very 
 cordially. 
 
 "Mr. Stafford," said Mrs. Ray, "I fear Margaret is 
 making a monopoly of your society, this evening, and 
 depriving you of much variety, at least." 
 
 "By no means, madam. I rather fear the charge might 
 be brought by her." 
 
 "Don't be disturbed on scores so slight, Mr. Stafford, I 
 
BLOOM AND BRIER. 347 
 
 am taking matters very calmly; we will at least let honors 
 go easy," replied Miss Sedley. 
 
 Mrs. Ray now asked Mr. Brandon to let her introduce 
 him to Miss Sedley, and as she did so, immediately turned 
 to Mr. Stafford, saying: "Come, sir; I have something for 
 your private ear : I will therefore relieve you of Margaret 
 for a few minutes, and accept your company myself for 
 this promenade." 
 
 " With a pleasure, madam, which nothing can exceed 
 that I dare to tell." 
 
 "Ah! sir, most artistically worded, but accepted." 
 
 "Mrs. Sheldon, I leave you in undisputed possession of 
 Mr. Ray." 
 
 "Mr. Brandon, will you accept charge of Miss Sedley 
 in trust for Mr. Stafford, to be returned on call, as the 
 merchants say ? Now, sir," addressing Mr. Stafford, "allons.'* 
 
 These changes were made so quickly, and so handsomely, 
 and so pleasantly, that all of the parties but herself were 
 bewildered and perfectly in her power, and took their 
 places without further thought. 
 
 Mrs. Ray immediately took occasion to say to Mr. Staf- 
 ford that she had taken quite a liberty with him, " But, 
 sir, I had a good woman's reason for it, which I will 
 explain not to-night, but, as the first act of conciliation, I 
 have taken you myself. Now, sir, are you satisfied?" 
 
 "Could I, if I would, madam, refuse to follow any 
 path lighted by the bright genius of Alabama's fairest 
 daughter." 
 
 " Indeed ! I thank you most truly, and think too, that 
 you should thank me for the change I have made, as it has 
 certainly added even to the usual brilliancy of your fancy ; 
 or have you thrown out similar scintillations before the 
 admiring gaze of Margaret?" 
 
 "I can't say that I have: the present is rather the more 
 inspiring occasion." 
 
348 BLOOM AND BKIER. 
 
 "You improve, Mr. Stafford. Shall I inform Miss 
 Sedley of your brilliant corruscations?" 
 
 "Oh! for heaven's sake, no," said he, with a laugh. 
 
 "Then, as the condition of my silence, I impose upon 
 you the obligation of keeping up the strain : you have now 
 spoiled me, and I must have more of the same delicate 
 nourishment." 
 
 "You should never need it, madam, if my mind could 
 only equal my heart." 
 
 " Very handsomely said, Mr. Stafford." 
 
 "And were I a Chaldean" he again responded, "I 
 should be at a loss to decide which star to worship : the 
 brilliancy of either so dazzles my sight." 
 
 "Come, Mr. Stafford, no s%-scraping with an old lady, 
 nor .will I permit you to take your eye off of the bright 
 particular star, that already attracts your mortal gaze and 
 worship ; and let me, in sober earnest, explain to you why 
 I made these changes : which, in few words, was to show 
 o/" Margaret Sedley to the husband of my old friend Mary 
 Gray — and himself, Mr. Ray says, a man of the first order 
 of mind. Now, sir, I thought you would take as great 
 pleasure in that thing as myself" 
 
 The promenade was continued for some time, during 
 which Mrs. Ray, aware of the liberty she had taken, made 
 it a point to entertain young Stafford ; and elaborating all 
 the passing subjects of the evening with the highest con- 
 versational art, it is needless to say that she so far suc- 
 ceeded as to give the libert}^ she had taken all the features 
 of an elegant favor. 
 
 In the meanwhile, Brandon had glided into a pleasing 
 conversation with Miss Sedley, when the latter, in reply to 
 a remark of his concerning Mrs. Ray, said : 
 
 "Aunt will have her way in such matters, and we have 
 all learned to give way when we discover her intentions." 
 
 "There is no apology due to me. Miss Sedley, particularly 
 as she promised me much pleasure in your company." 
 
BLOOM AND BRIER. 349 
 
 "Ah, I fear she has contracted too heavily for me; I was 
 satisfied of some design on her part, in regard to me." 
 
 " No, no; not more than you will be able to comply with. 
 You have two sureties that you will not fail : one is, that 
 she knew exactly what to promise, and the other is, that I 
 shall only demand the most natural and easy performances ; 
 for instance, an occasional smile from your happy face, or a 
 merry glance now and then from your bright young eyes. 
 These will meet the full measure of my demands, but to 
 increase my admiration, you can add whatever else you 
 wish." 
 
 "I shall give you, sir, the full benefit of both, and con- 
 sider that I have made most excellent use of them. But 
 really, Mr. Brandon, I should feel some apprehension before 
 you, after hearing your brilliant reply to Colonel Haywood, 
 if I did not in some sort look upon you as a family friend, 
 if not one of my own. Uncle has done but little else than 
 sound your praises for three days past." 
 
 " I am more fortunate than I had a right to expect, and 
 in my heart thank Ray for the flatteHng complaisance ; 
 and you must allow me. Miss Sediey, to dispel whatever 
 there is of apprehension in your feelings, by assuring vou 
 that while with an old friend of Ray — it is only optional 
 with yourself to say whether or not — you shall be with one 
 of your own," and then with his old gallantry of manner, 
 continued: "I already envy Mr. Staflford his youth and 
 genius, as I should then aspire to be esteemed even more 
 than friend." 
 
 "Your gallantry conceals your years, and your genius 
 stands for itself, Mr. Brandon ; you therefore have an even 
 start with Mr. Stafford, at these two points, at least." 
 
 " You banter me then, youi;g lady, to enter the lists with 
 your admirers?" 
 
 "Oh! no," she laughingly replied ; " I did not mean so 
 much : for with all my vanity, I cannot expect to be re- 
 80 
 
350 BLOOM AND BRIER. 
 
 membered beyond this evening. Kot altogether mal-apro- 
 pos, Mr. Brandon — let me tell you that my uncle never 
 passes a day without giving us a chapter of laudation on 
 yourself, and never ceases to be surprised in regard to your 
 course on the question of Secession. At college, he says, 
 you were the wildest, gayest, most reckless, and most talented 
 member of your class, or that he ever knew ; but that he 
 now finds you quite the reverse of all this, except your 
 talents. In the last particular, he gives you great credit 
 still, and says, you came near defeating the question." 
 
 " Yes ; I am obliged to him for his good opinion ; and he 
 has expressed to me his surprise at the apparent change, 
 and at what he calls my * caution.' I have replied to him, 
 that my dissent was more than ordinary caution — it was 
 thought; and I have expressed the same surprise at him, 
 too. I now find him calmly riding on the wild waves of 
 popular clamor, and I fear will assist in 'wrecking the for- 
 tunes of us all. At college, he was quite as noted for his 
 prudence, as I was for the reverse." 
 
 " Yes ; I do not think his present course the suggestion 
 of his real character ; but, having been in association with 
 the Northern politicians, fathomed their character, and 
 discovered their purposes, he has grown to think it both 
 humiliating and dangerous to remain longer in unison with 
 them ; and since that cowardly attempt at massacre by old 
 Brown, he appears to have no control over his temper, and 
 holds the Xorthern people equally guilty — as they en- 
 dorsed it." 
 
 " He has had no greater apprehension than I have, nor 
 any greater disgust, for the character which the North is 
 developing ; for, indeed, they seem to be relapsing to their 
 witch-burning. Blue-law period ; and he has doubtless had 
 his temper more disturbed than mine has been : for that 
 very reason I claim to be the calmer judge of the real 
 nature, import, and result of this measure. They could 
 
BLOOM AND B 11 1 E K . 351 
 
 possibly do no more than provoJce us, while we held the 
 advantage of being in the Union. AVe could retaliate, and 
 in that instance, we did do it most terribly. There is no 
 people on the earth more vulnerable, from a social, politi- 
 cal, and even an intellectual point, than the Northern 
 people, and who defend themselves so poorly. They are 
 not cowardly, but have no lofty, noble sentiments, nor that 
 natural appreciation of chivalry, to know how and where 
 to resent, or when and where to attack. They are not so 
 mean, as small and conceited ; they are fanatics, and think 
 themselves Christians; wranglers, and think themselves 
 philosophers ; they are muddled in their ratiocinations, 
 and think themselves metaphysical." 
 
 *' Could anything good ever grow out of such relation- 
 ships, or such retaliations as you speak of?" 
 
 " Yes ; causes would in time have worked out their effects 
 m a natural manner — we would have fallen apart in less 
 than twenty years. Remedies v.'ould have grown out of 
 the very errors that we complain of, and, then, the South 
 would have been in the ascendant. Passion must not take 
 the place of reason. Statesmanship deals with the head, 
 not with the heart ; at least, only as the heart is reflected 
 through the head." 
 
 " You think, then, that we have had provocation suffi- 
 cient ; but that public policy should have dictated some 
 other course?" 
 
 " Yes ; secession is the poisoned chalice, which they have 
 long desired us to swallow from. The Northern people 
 know and so do we, if we did not give way to temper, that 
 the Government cannot be broken up at this time, and in 
 that way; but they hate us for wishing it, simply because, 
 the wish is a broad-world-wide reflection upon them. They 
 wish us to attempt it, however, in order to get satisfaction 
 for the disgust and contempt which we have long felt and 
 shown for them. They know the vast resources of the 
 
352 BLOOM AND BRIER. 
 
 Government, which if left in their hands will make it 
 easy to crush us. They would then fasten the most obnox- 
 ious laws upon us, and, above all, humiliate us through 
 the negro. The Northern people — I speak of them as a 
 class, not as individuals — are just of that character which 
 can only be elevated in proportion to our humiliation; and 
 when they get the j^ower, as they now will, they will push 
 measures in that direction to the furthest extreme." 
 
 " Yes ; your remarks in the Convention were made from 
 that stand-point, and made a very serious impression," 
 said the handsome girl, as she turned her lovely face full 
 upon him. 
 
 " I have now," continued Brandon, " but one hope for 
 the South, and that is, that after the destruction of slavery, 
 it will turn its attention to manvfacturiug. She has every 
 possible advantage of the North, in climate, timber, water- 
 power, minerals, and the production of all the raw mate- 
 rials; these facts will be developed after a time, and change 
 the entire track of wealth and commerce in this country. 
 But violence throws nature off the track; natural causes 
 work their natural ends, better and more speedily than we 
 can force them. The present moment will throw us back 
 many, many years, both in wealth, power, and improvement." 
 
 Brandon seeing Mrs. Bay take a seat, proposed to Miss 
 Sedley that he now return her to Mr. Stafford. 
 
 CHAPTER YII. 
 
 " A skirmish of wit between them." 
 
 WHEN Brandon returned to ]\Irs. Bay, he apologized to 
 Stafford, by saying that he not only apologized, but 
 owed him a double apology, first for depriving him of his 
 beautiful friend, and next, for using the occasion in an 
 effort to proselyte her. 
 
BLOOM AND BKIER. 353 
 
 " I will not say, Mr. Brandon, that you owe me an apology 
 for the first act, but cannot say so much for the second, as 
 Korth Alabama is but poorly represented here in patriot- 
 ism, at best. It would be an indifferent report to make of 
 Miss Sedley, as she is looked upon as one of the brightest 
 stars that float upon our rather dubious skies." 
 
 " I am truly obliged to North Alabama, Mr. Stafford, 
 for placing me in so proud a galaxy, for I really did not 
 seek the honor, and wear it a little awkwardly, I fear," she 
 replied. 
 
 " Ah, Miss Sedley, I fear you are about to yield your 
 noble position. Mr. Brandon must, indeed, have exerted 
 great influence in the short time he was with you." 
 
 " Your remarks require a double answer, Mr. Stafford. 
 In the first place, I have but few of the prerequisites for 
 even a female politician ; I am not persistent enough in 
 my opinions ; I cannot maintain them for the sake of popu- 
 larity, when I fear myself in the wrong. Nor am I sufficiently 
 ambitious of notoriety — as notoriety is all that a woman 
 can acquire in that field. I already think that arrange- 
 ments should be made to send me back. I am getting 
 anxious to leave this whirl of excitement, and return to 
 retirement, from sheer unfitness for any other position. 
 This confession is quite mortifying, but I believe correct." 
 
 She had alternately turned from one to the other of the 
 two gentlemen, while playfully making these remarks, with 
 her eyes sparkling with mischief, and a smile playing about 
 her mouth, and evidently enjoyed the effect that her words 
 had upon Stafford, which cannot be appreciated by those 
 who do not know the anxiety which was felt to secure 
 female favor during the first days of the Confederacy. 
 
 Brandon saw that she was talking more to tantalize 
 Stafford, than with any real seriousness, and therefore paid 
 but little attention to her words, while he was struck with 
 her uncommon beauty, and said to her : 
 30* 
 
354 BLOOM AND BRIER. 
 
 " If there is such beauty in jour regrets, Miss Sedley, 
 what the effect would be of more generous feelings, and 
 really correct opinions, is a high question of both morals 
 and art. It occurs to me that even I would be tempted to 
 regret the early frost on my locks, were it not there is one 
 at my humble home, who breathes around me the atmos- 
 phere of love and beauty." 
 
 "Most gallantly spoken, Mr. Brandon, but the qualifi- 
 cation destroys the force. That must be modified if you 
 expect to charm me." 
 
 " Come, come," said Mrs. Ray, " I shall not permit even 
 platonics, in the absence of my friend Mary Gray." 
 
 "Do you speak of Mrs. Brandon, aunt?" 
 
 " Yes ; an old friend, of whom you have often heard me 
 speak." 
 
 " Certainly, I have, but I had not connected the two." 
 
 "Yes, she is Mrs. Brandon." 
 
 " Then, for such considerations, I must decline further 
 designs upon you, Mr. Brandon," affecting surprise at the 
 information she had just received, and adding, " Oh, Mr. 
 Brandon, what cruel work you might have been guilty of! 
 I should far sooner have taken you for a gay Lothario, 
 than inchoate patriarch." 
 
 "I beg pardon for the unintentional deception. Miss 
 Sedley ; and now permit me to restore you one who may 
 more nearly approach the character of a Lothario than 
 myself Mr. Stafford, will you let me have the pleasure of 
 returning your half-lost treasure." 
 
 Pretending to some hesitation, this gentleman replied : 
 
 "I suppose I must; but the lustre of the diamond is a 
 good deal soiled, by her own confession. Miss Sedley, will 
 you return to your allegiance, and to my care ; for — if 
 you will permit me to make a very tender quotation, ' 1 
 know that I love thee, whatever thou art.' " 
 
 "Ah! Mr. Stafford, had you not better reserve your 
 
BLOOM AND BlilER. 355 
 
 tender confessions for a more private occasion? Is this your 
 first, or your last?" said Mrs. Ray. 
 
 "My first, madam, of course; the List, I shall take your 
 advice in, and reserve for a ' more private occasion. ' " 
 
 " I am equally delighted, Mr. Stafford, with your sym- 
 pathy, your poetry, and your confessions; and give you 
 the evidence of my sincerity in accepting your offer to 
 receive me. But, Mr. Brandon, I had scarcely thought that 
 you -svould display so ready and so ingenious a facility in 
 giving me up." 
 
 "You mistake me, fair lady. After hearing the confes- 
 sions of Mr. Stafford, and seeing the evident pleasure they 
 afforded you, it is I who have the right to complain ; and 
 you must further allow me to indicate the extent of my 
 indignation, by asking him to exchange places with me," 
 at the same time rising, and offering ]Mr. Stafford his seat. 
 This exchange brought him to the side of Mrs. Sheldon, 
 who "vvas conversing with Ray. 
 
 "Ah! Mr. Brandon," said Miss Sedley, "that is insult 
 to injury — *Ossa upon Pelion' — and leaves no room for 
 conciliation." 
 
 " I will leave the whole matter to Mr. Stafford, and if he 
 thinks any amende due to you, I will immediately return 
 to your side." 
 
 "No, no," said Stafford, laughing; "I do not think the 
 matter requires the least explanation of the kind — sup- 
 pose you let the affair rest at what it is at, ' quiescat in pace.' 
 A general amnesty is the best method of i-estoring peace." 
 
 This change, placing Brandon by the side of Mrs. Shel- 
 don, the latter asked in an undertone, how he was pleased 
 •with the North Alabama belle. 
 
 " Very much. She is really very beautiful, and I should 
 think, a very superior girl." 
 
 " Yes ; she is all that you say ; and you will be delighted 
 with her, should you become more familiarly acquainted 
 
356 BLOOM AND BRIER. 
 
 with her. She is very finely educated, modest and gentle, and 
 yet very spirited, and entirely free from affectation. I was 
 with her at Washington last winter, when she attracted the 
 admiration of every one who met with her. It is said, and 
 I presume truly, that she is engaged to Mr. Stafford, who 
 is himself a young man of fine mind, education, and for- 
 tune ; but has the reputation of being icild, and I think 
 she holds him under probation." 
 
 " Yes ; I discovered something of the kind. But your 
 mentioning Washington, reminds me to ask how the South- 
 ern ladies will feel at giving up the glittering attractions 
 of Washington, for the rude scenes and life of a revolu- 
 tionary capital." 
 
 " To speak sincerely, Mr. Brandon, I have not the glow- 
 ing anticipations which are generally entertained by our 
 friends. Mr. Sheldon, too, is far from being clear of appre- 
 hension for the future. This course does not meet his 
 approval, yet he says, the South has had to bear with so 
 many different kinds of indignity, that he holds it excusable 
 for almost any course she may adopt. But to reply to your 
 question directly, I am perfectly willing to give up the 
 gayeties of Washington, and never go there again. A few 
 years since, society there was of a very high order, and the 
 winters were very gay and attractive, but it has changed 
 very greatly. For several years past, the North has been 
 sending a certain sort of fashionable society there, without 
 vitality or nature in it, and to a Southerner very disagree- 
 able, and difficult to describe — jejune, parvenue, -possessors 
 of sudden wealth, with no higher lineage than descending 
 from some successful inventor of stoves or mowing-machines, 
 or at the best, from some passenger on the Mayflower. In 
 England, they would be styled cockneyish. I do not con- 
 demn the South for her temper, yet I cannot endorse the 
 wisdom of her course; but I am a Southerner, and what- 
 ever the South does, right or wrong, I shall sustain in all 
 the ways that a woman can." 
 
BLOOM AND BRIER. 357 
 
 "We are not far apart, either in feeling or opinion ; but 
 for the life of me, I can see no possible chance of success, 
 •which is the criterion of right in the political world. The 
 j)hysical inequalities are too numerous and too great; and 
 as to principle, there is no such precept in the \Yhole roll 
 of state-craft, as the right of one integral portion of a 
 government to withdraw from the remainder at pleasure. 
 The idea is at variance with the spirit and organic law of 
 all government, stability, and the duty and right of self- 
 protection. 
 
 " We are told that there will be no war. This is a mis- 
 take, and however successful the South may be in the bat- 
 tles of the first period, it will be unsuccessful in the ivar, 
 from simple exhaustion ; even victories will ruin her, while 
 the persistent power of an established government can 
 easily bear up under protracted disaster." 
 
 CHAPTER YIII. 
 
 "Now call we our high court of Parliament; 
 And let us choose such limbs of noble counsel, 
 That the great body of our State may go 
 In equal rank with the best-governed Nation." 
 
 EARLY in the Spring of 1861, thirteen of the States 
 known as the Slave States, had, in some sort, seceded 
 from the Union, and formed The Southern Confed- 
 eracy, of which Richmond soon became the capital. 
 
 It was now plain to both Governments that they had 
 drifted into war — contrary to the expectation of either. 
 Fort Sumter had already fallen into the hands of the Con- 
 federates, after enduring a most terrible siege, and the whole 
 South was all ablaze with martial excitement. 
 
358 BLOOM AND BRIER. 
 
 jNIr. Buchanan was averse to war, and evidently hoped 
 for a reconciliation. A peace convention of prominent 
 citizens from both sections had met at Washington with a 
 view to arranging the difficulty, in the last days of his ad- 
 ministration and by his advice ; but the Korth, arrogant 
 under the triumphant success of Lincoln, made as arrogant 
 demands, while the South, growing every moment more 
 chafed, was in no condition to accept unjust propositions. 
 The North, falling back upon her superior numbers, and 
 the strength of the position she would gain by the naked 
 secession of the South, grew every hour more imperious, 
 while the South, at every such evidence, grew firmer in 
 her hate, and confidently fell back upon her historic chiv- 
 alry. It was the IS^orman face to face with the Saxon, 
 but with history and the facts reversed. The moral ele- 
 ments were the same ; a thousand years had not aifected 
 them, but the occasion vras changed and new. Present re- 
 sults, so far from modifying these Norman and Saxon dif- 
 ferences, have only intensified them. Let the future make 
 its own record. 
 
 But as we have said. Fort Sumter had fallen, and the 
 South blazed with impatience for the unequal struggle. It 
 was the martial heart of the South moved to its deepest 
 depths. The note of defiance rung through the land, and 
 her people gathered together at the sound, wdth souls that 
 felt no fear, and an enthusiasm that courted the fray. This 
 excitement was outside of all party feeling. Even those 
 who had bitterly opposed secession, and were still opposed 
 to it in opinion, now rushed wildly to arms. The wrongs 
 and insults w^hich they had long borne with, now seemed 
 uppermost in their minds, and who or by what means the 
 contest had been precipitated, were matters of secondary 
 consideration. Had those who had been in the political 
 lead of the people, been themselves actuated by less parti- 
 san feeling, and had met the out-gush- of this popular 
 
B L O O M A N D BRIER. 359 
 
 enthusiasm on the part of the people, in the same generous 
 spirit, the " Bonnie Blue Flag" would this day, whether 
 for weal or woe, have proudly floated over the loveliest 
 land, and the proudest, noblest race of men and women, 
 too, who walk the earth, and who even in their fallen con- 
 dition, grace the records of the werld with all the magnifi- 
 cence of chivalry, and the loveliest pictures of heroism. 
 
 But old political prejudices, favoritism, speculation, and 
 beyond all, the abstractions of constitutional law, crept in, 
 and marred the force, which even the simple cause itself 
 possessed. Arguments always cool ardor, and check the 
 impulses of the heart, and Richmond early became the 
 giadiatory field for second and third-rate contestants, on 
 points which should never have arisen. The occasion was 
 revolutionary ; revolutions are despotisms, and it is their 
 duty to compel all men to bow to them. Power should not 
 be divided, and Mr. Davis was divided between thousands. 
 God knows how^ many. Anywhere in Europe the thing 
 would have succeeded, where the people had not been pes- 
 tered by democracy and discussion. It was democracy that 
 defeated the South — a social condition foreign to her whole 
 nature, but which had gradually slipt upon her shoulders, 
 without her knowing when, \Yhy, or how ; her natural aris- 
 tocracy of character would have led her to success. 
 
 On this occasion the South evinced her true character. 
 The masses wanted leaders, and when they obtained them, 
 drove them on before. Any man of the least influence, 
 either in intelligence, character, or wealth, could, and did, 
 raise either his company, regiment, or battalion. To these 
 facts Brandon was no exception, but immediately raised a 
 company in his neighborhood, and reported to head-quar- 
 ters. In the formation of a regiment from single companies, 
 who had similarly reported, he was unanimously elected 
 Colonel. 
 
 Colonel Campbell, now a prominent man in a near part 
 
360 BLOOM AND BRIER. 
 
 of the State, passed through the same process, but went on 
 to higher positions, until reaching a Brigadiership, and in 
 this relation to the army, went to the seat of war. Staf- 
 ford, in North Alabama, had also been promoted to a 
 Colonelcy, and while in Virginia, had his regiment trans- 
 ferred to General Campbell's brigade. 
 
 General Campbell's son, McKenzie Campbell, who had 
 so attracted the attention of Mrs. Ray in the ball-room, by 
 his father's permission, had remained in his company, and 
 been chosen third lieutenant, and was now in Brandon's 
 
 About or near midsummer of that year, the Federal 
 Government began moving heavy forces on Richmond, the 
 REBEL capital ; which rendered it necessary for the Con- 
 federacy to evacuate Norfolk, and come to its support; 
 and having already advanced beyond, met with Lincoln's 
 army on the famous field of Manassas. And there, the 
 Cavalier met the Puritan! and made one other glorious 
 record of the differences between the tivo people. What 
 that record is, the world already knows I — will forever 
 know ! Hate cannot alter history, nor despotism obliterate 
 deeds. There it is ! proudly tracing its own story on the 
 old walls of time, and indelible as eternity ! Try your 
 blade again, Puritan, and refute the record if ye can ! 
 
 Campbell's brigade, and Brandon's regiment particularly, 
 had attracted attention during the whole day, by its re- 
 peated engagements, persistent gallantry, and heavy losses. 
 
 Young McKenzie Campbell had commanded, boy as 
 he was, his company during the latter part of this terrible 
 day, by the fall of all his superior officers ; and now felt all 
 the pride of a young soldier, who had won his sword by 
 victory. 
 
 About the time the last act of the dreadful drama had 
 transpired, General Campbell rode up to his youthful son 
 on the field, and said: 
 
BLOOM AND BRIER. 361 
 
 "You have acted nobly to-day, my boy." 
 
 "That 's enough, ftither," replied the merry but powder- 
 burnt young officer, interrupting him. "Next to my sweet- 
 heart's smile, I appreciate yours, sir." 
 
 "Ah! you will never be serious, you young dog." 
 
 " No, sir ; not while I have so much to be proud of, and 
 to rejoice over." 
 
 " Then, take care of yourself, my son," and dashing a tear 
 from his eye, rode on. 
 
 When night had set in, and the Southern army had re- 
 turned from pursuing the fleeing Federal forces ; and the 
 hundreds of amateur spectators who had come to witness 
 the victory of their army, (who, however pious f had no 
 objection to the shedding of blood, provided it was not their 
 own, and further provided, it flowed from Southern hearts,) 
 lay sleeping around their little camp-lights with their half- 
 eaten rations at their side, young Campbell was sitting 
 there alone, writing an account of the affair to Alice 
 Hunter. 
 
 " Battle-fikld of Manassas, July Zd, 1S61. 
 
 " My Sweet Cousin : — And who has a better right to 
 say sweet cousin than I, who have this day won my knightly 
 spurs? so cousin Henry Brandon says, and he is a judge. 
 Well, sweet cousin — I'll say it again, because I am away 
 from you, and not afraid to say it — I have sat down, with 
 a piece of broken gun-carriage for my table, and sundry 
 such articles for my light, to write you some account of my 
 first battle, which I promised to do if I should survive it, 
 which you used teasingly to tell me I would never fight. But 
 I have fought it, won it, and not been killed, and now feel 
 almost inclined to write as CVesar did to the Roman Senate, 
 * Veni, vidi, vicif' and if I were writing to any one but a 
 girl, I believe I should be tempted — anyway, to rival his 
 pomposity. Either to girl or senate, I shall be tempted 
 to do so, if I shall ever again come off so fortunately. 
 
 "Just for the present, however, I will not assume such 
 vast proportions, and content myself by merely giving you 
 some few incidents of this terrific day, in which I acted up 
 31 
 
362 BLOOM AND BRIER. 
 
 to all my duty so far as I was able. You must not expect 
 so full an account, as you would doubtless like to see, or I 
 would like to give, as I am very greatly fatigued, and not 
 over the excitement even yet. But I hope to meet you 
 before long, and, after kissing your rosy cheek, will fight my 
 battle over again. 
 
 " But let me begin this wild, dreadful story, before sleep 
 asserts its authority. For several days we had seen that the 
 Federals intended fighting us, Avith an army very superior 
 to ours both in numbers and appointments ; but as we be- 
 lieved that we could whip two for one, at the very least, felt 
 no alarm. 
 
 "This morning, some time after day, a pretty heavy 
 firing began on their side about half a mile to our left, 
 which was soon returned from ours. The firing rapidly 
 extended, and in less than an hour our regiment was into 
 it ; and your humble servant found himself, for the first 
 time since being in the army, under heavy fire. It seemed 
 to me that every man in the Yankee army was firing ac me 
 individually, which, you may imagine, made me feel a little 
 curious ; balls and cannon - shot flew almost as thicK as 
 hail. I got accustomed to it after a while, but oh ! cousin, 
 I could not describe to you my feelings for the lasc ten 
 minutes before actually going into the engagement, if I 
 had every word in all the languages of the world. The 
 sun had risen beautifully, and was as calm and glowing as 
 if all unconscious of the suffering which men were about 
 to inflict on each other. Not a word was spoken by the 
 men, and in their eyes there seemed to be no capacity of 
 sight for external objects. Their vision, if it may be called 
 such, appeared to be coldly turned within, or abstractedly 
 dwelling on those who were far away, never probably co be 
 seen again with mortal sight. Such vacancy of expression 
 I never saw men wear before, and, oh ! that I could never 
 see it again. 
 
 "The first cannon fired in our front was an electric shock, 
 and brought us up to a full realization of our condition. 
 For a very few moments, the apprehension was terrible ; 
 indeed, I was no less really frightened than every one ehe, 
 but this soon passed away, and the work of death began in 
 earnest. After this there was no fear, no anxiety, no more 
 care for self; these were all forgotten in the a,wful scenes 
 
BLOOM AND BRIER. 363 
 
 nround us. Very soon the strife raged mortally; the dead 
 lying around us, and the wounded i'ulling and groaning in 
 the agonies of death, while the living, with teeth clenched, 
 and with the rage of fiends, moved, fired, and loaded in 
 silence. AVe frequently changed, and were compelled to 
 change position during the day, and it was only during such 
 times that we had any respite. 
 
 "These scenes lasted for many hours, with all the phases 
 of an inferior army fighting one vastly its superior in 
 strength. We felt this inequality very often during the 
 day, and at times it appeared that we would be overwhelmed 
 in spite of ourselves. Our army would appear to have done 
 all that men could do — waver, reel, and tall back — yet 
 their spirit never abated, and with every giving back, there 
 came a revival of the desperate resolution, to be victorious 
 or to die. Observing this, I felt that it was impossible for 
 mortal power to conquer us, short of extermination. 
 
 "These shifting fortunes continued through the entire 
 day — rather until about four o'clock, when, Avithout any 
 appearance of extraordinary cause, the Federals were seen 
 to give way, and but a short time elapsed before a panie 
 ensued. The victory was ours ! Crushing, overwhelming, 
 complete ! A more perfect rout could not be imagined, 
 assuming all the features of personal cowardice. Flying 
 thus from men only half their number, as if from the very 
 wrath to come, must ever be a most humiliating memory. 
 But what is one person's sorrow, is another's joy, I've 
 heard, and my heart swelled with all the varying emotions 
 of joy and pride, and even exultation, at the sight of the 
 troops of a people, who, for years, had sought to insult and 
 injure us, and at length had invaded our country with a 
 view to destroying our property, and our homes, made to 
 degrade themselves by their own miserable poltroonery ; for 
 certainly, had they had the hearts of men in their mean, 
 boasting breasts, they could have exterminated us, if they 
 could not conquer us ; and even now, while our men have 
 had a hearty laugh, and are quietly sleeping on the battle- 
 field, these miserable creatures are still fleeing from them 
 with the fright of hares. 
 
 " It is reported, to-night, that some of our forces, among 
 other prisoners, captured a little copper-cent sort of Con- ' 
 gressraan, who had come to witness the Puritan victory. 
 
364 BLOOM AND BRIER. 
 
 If SO, I hope General Beauregard will refuse to treat him 
 as a prisoner of war, but order a corporal to whip him and 
 turn him loose, as a thiugr utterly unworthy to be guarded 
 by a Southern soklier. But it is all over with, and I am 
 unhurt, so I shall not get in a bad temper with Puritan 
 amateurs. 
 
 " What strange things turn up in this little world of 
 ours sometimes! Just,"if you please, think of a country 
 lad from the far-away South, sitting, at midnight, on a 
 battle-field, with no human sound to break the silence that 
 reigns around him, except the soft, slow step of the senti- 
 nel on his lonely round, writing some account of the awful 
 scenes of an awful day, by the dim light of a summer camp- 
 fire, to his fair young cousin at her distant home, who he 
 hopes is this moment quietly sleeping, and sweetly dream- 
 ing of him who has thought and seen her lovely face ten 
 thousand times during the terrible day that has passed. 
 That was a long speech, but I had to make it. So here 
 goes, my pretty cousin, for something else. Ah, yes ! I had 
 nigh forgot to tell you of quite a romantic — so I may call 
 it — incident of this morning. You know the beautiful gold 
 locket you gave me containing your picture? which, of 
 course, t wear next my heart. Well, it saved my life to-day, 
 and after this fashion. Now every word I shall tell you 
 is just as true as that we have this day fought the battle 
 of Manassas. No imagination, no fiction, no story about 
 it — for what else had your sweet little picture to do, but 
 to save my life ? It could not fight. But let me tell my 
 story. About eleven o'clock I was struck by a spent ball, 
 I suppose, Avhich prostrated me, and for a moment, took 
 my breath, and, as an Irishman would say, for a few 
 seconds thought I was dead, but discovering that my eyes 
 were open, and my lungs breathing, concluded to rise, and 
 did so to my perfect satisfaction ; but still supposing myself 
 badly wounded, thought to play surgeon; and on examina- 
 tion found no damage had been done, except that your 
 locket had been battered in. The whole thing flashed upon 
 me in an instant, and I went on as if nothing had happened. 
 The whole affair did not go through one minute, I don't 
 suppose, but it looked to me like two years ; but need I tell 
 you that I pressed the little guardian angel to my lips, and 
 thanked it for its presence on the battle-field? and need I 
 
BLOOM AND BRIER. 3G5 
 
 tell you too, that it is now open before nie as I write, with 
 its lovely face looking as laughingly in mine, as you did 
 the day that you hung it around my neck? 
 
 "But, heiglio ! it is nearly morning, and lam too tired to 
 write more, even to my little sweetheart away down iu 
 Dixie; so I shall close, and lie down where I am, to dream 
 of Alice, home, and mother. I had already, before be- 
 ginning this to you, written a few lines to Colonel Bran- 
 don's wife by his request, and also a short letter to mother ; 
 but this is intended for you to read to them all, except in 
 such parts as — you know what I mean — and now, good 
 night ! 
 
 " Yours affectionately, 
 
 "McK. Campbell." 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 "But sorrow returned with the dawning of morn, 
 And the voice in my dreaming melted sadly away." 
 
 THE electric wires flung the intelligence of this great 
 victory, almost as soon as it had transpired, from one 
 end of the Confederacy to the other, yet it was many days 
 before the details of it became known. Young Campbell's 
 
 letter was the first received at , containing anything 
 
 like particulars, from one who had actually participated in 
 it ; and Hunter's house was thronged for several days by 
 friends, neighbors, and citizens, to hear some real con- 
 firmation and details of the affliir. The curiosity seemed 
 so great, that Alice, under the direction of her father, pre- 
 pared it for the press, only leaving out such parts as we 
 have seen were intended to be private. 
 
 The young oflicer w^as so generally known, and the spirit 
 with which he dashed his letter was so accordant with the 
 feelings of a large part of the people, that the letter soon 
 31* 
 
366 BLOOM AND BRIER. 
 
 passed into the columns of every newspaper in the State, 
 each one making its own laudatory comments. 
 
 It was now believed by all that peace would follow, some 
 thinking that it would result in a reconstruction of the 
 Union, while the larger portion were satisfied that a recog- 
 nition of the Confederacy would necessarily result from so 
 overwhelming a victory. All desired joeace, and all rejoiced 
 in the triumph of Southern arms. 
 
 A day or two after young Campbell had written, Colonel 
 Brandon seized a stray occasion to write to his wife. The 
 letter was a mere running one ; but we subjoin it, for the 
 purpose of showing the feelings of Southern people at this 
 time, even among those who had opposed secession. 
 
 "Manassas, 5/^ Ji'^!/, '61. 
 
 " My Dear Wife : — I have not written to you as early 
 as I desired, and as I would have done under any possible 
 circumstances, had I not known that intelligence of our 
 safety had reached you through McK. Campbell. Until 
 now I have had no suitable opportunity to write to you ; 
 but finding from my almost unremitting duties, that I am 
 not likely to get a better, seize upon such as I have. 
 
 " Well, my dear Mary, after every effort on my part to 
 check the current of secession, I have just come out of a 
 mostterrible battle, resulting from it — against my opinions, 
 my own people, and ray own Government ; but confess to 
 all the pride of a soldier, in the great victory we have won, 
 not without a hope, however, that it may lead to peace, as 
 both the Government and the Northern people must now 
 see that we are not to be insulted, slandered, and wronged, 
 without properly resenting: it ; but when the battle was 
 going on I lost sight of all such considerations, and only 
 thought of victory. The desire of success superseded all 
 other feelings. I never once thought of Colonel Haywood; 
 men and causes dwindled into their proper insignificance, 
 before the terrible solemnity of battle-scenes. 
 
 "I am now fairly launched into it, and though I still, and 
 shall ever condemn the policy of it, I shall remain in it so 
 long as it lasts, and continues to be sectional m its character 
 and purposes. It certainly appears to be a war of envious 
 
BLOOM AND BRIER. 367 
 
 fanaticism, vrn^od an^ainst temper; and as I am no fanatic, 
 and as the temper belnncfs to my own people, I shall cer- 
 tainlv^ maintain it in their interest, and every impulse of 
 my heart forbids my doin^r less than a man's work — I will 
 not say dvfi/. I miirht possibly think, and even act differ- 
 ently, if the Government of the United States could divest 
 itself of the odium of moving in obedience to a purely 
 sectional prejudice, and a wish on the part of the North to 
 crvsh us ; but their refusal at the Peace Conference, thoufjh 
 informally held, to accede to, or to propose any concession, 
 indicates beyond doubt, that the Northern people desired 
 the South to secede — knowinp; that the power which would 
 thus be left in their hands, would make them as ten to one 
 in the contest. 
 
 "I still, as I have said, condemn the policy of the war, 
 and look upon the arofnments in behalf of Secession as 
 simply absurd, and am still as hopeless of ultimate success. 
 As a thing of reason, I have no approval of my own, or 
 the course of the South ; yet, from a social point of view, 
 I could never forgive myself for taking part against my 
 own people. 
 
 "But to revert to the battle: I will say that after a day 
 of terrible fighting against large odds of every character, 
 victory went overwhelming by in our favor. Fright, panic, 
 rout, flight, and an utter desertion of every material thing 
 with which a great army goes on the battle-field, does not 
 approach the picture which the Federal forces presented, 
 as they turned toward Washington. 
 
 " One of the, to me, pleasing but singular facts in this 
 affiiir is, that our army is largely composed of 'Old Whigs, ' 
 and men who opposed secession, yet this did not appear to 
 affect them, and the battle was fought outside of all polit- 
 ical feeling. It was acoUision between men M'ho essentially 
 differ, both in mental, moral, social, and ethnological ele- 
 ments. 
 
 " If the Confederate Congress could only appreciate the 
 differences between the two people, which this battle has 
 developed, and then, too, remember that governments only 
 Avage protracted war successfully, somewhat in the propor- 
 tion which they approach a despotism, and hush up all this 
 senseless wrangling on constitutional points, and send every 
 capable man into the army, and ay, go themselves, too, there 
 
368 BLOOM AND BEIER. 
 
 might be some prospect of success ; without this, I fear 
 there is but little — and I am not a croaJcer, but a sokh'pr. 
 The one man power is the only kind which can win such 
 prizes as are now up on the hazard. But there is little hope 
 of this. The future, therefore, is gloomy enough to those 
 who look beyond the ephemeral brightness of the present. 
 
 " But I did not set out to write a political letter to my 
 absent, anxious, and loving wife, but rather to write to her 
 cheerfully and hopefully, as I certainly feel, for my late 
 escape from injury. You can tell those who feel an inter- 
 est, or have young friends with me, that the regiment, 
 through the whole day, behaved with the most unwavering 
 gallantry, as much so, apparently, as if each man thought 
 the issue of the battle depended on himself; and all that is 
 to be regretted, is its severe losses. 
 
 " I was frequently at the side of McKenzie Campbell, dur- 
 ing the day, and youth as he is, he behaved Avith all the 
 coolness and daring of a veteran, and all the gallantry of 
 a Southern gentleman's son. If this war will do no other 
 good it will develop Southern character, and the chivalry 
 of the Southern heart, and let the outside world know that 
 we are more than the bloated, effete " slave drivers " which 
 Northern pulpits, Northern politicians, and Northern writ- 
 ers, have slanderously represented us to be. 
 
 *' McKenzie went over to the quarters of General Camp- 
 bell, the morning following the battle, and a soldier who 
 accompanied him told me that he never saw a more affect- 
 ing meeting. Campbell, he said, cried like a child, as he 
 hugged the brave boy to his bosom. He may well be proud 
 of him, as I will venture that neither army had such an- 
 other in its ranks. Tell Alice that I tease him about writ- 
 ing to her before he did to his mother ; he, however, denies 
 it, acknowledging, though, that he did write Alice the 
 longest letter. 
 
 " Tell her, too, that she may boast to all the young dam- 
 sels of her young hero cousin, and that he makes quite as 
 good a soldier as he did a student, and that is saying a 
 great deal. As I just remember it, you must excuse me for 
 making a romantic allusion in connection with him. 
 
 " About the middle of the afternoon, on the day of the 
 fight, I passed near him, only a short time before his captain 
 had been wounded, and taken from the field. McKenzie waa 
 
BLOOM AND BRIER. 369 
 
 then in command of what was left of liis company, and at 
 the moment I Baw him, was under a very severe fire, but 
 he stood as calmly, and looked as pleasing as if enjoying 
 some pastime. I thought I had never seen so fine a pic- 
 ture of a young soldier, and could but pause for a moment 
 to look at his handsome face and figure, bringing back to 
 memory the lovely face of Laura Brandon, as we saw her 
 more tlian twenty years ago, at Gregory's Spring, and for a 
 second, the poor broken-hearted girl of a later day nestled 
 again in my bosom. Strange memory to pass through tlie 
 mind of an officer on the battle-field, you will think. So 
 it was ; but constantly through that day of blood and 
 havoc, there came back to my mind sweet memories that 
 had long lain silent or been forgot. Strange, too, none but 
 the pleasant ones came up. You and my children were 
 ever in my presence. Every pleasant event, from the time 
 we first met, up to the reception of your last letter ; and in 
 the ten thousand times that your dear face appeared to me, 
 never once did it wear anything but the same soft beauty, 
 and the same gentle expression, which I never saw it with- 
 out ; and by the time the day was over with, and now, you 
 were more the lady-love of my heart than ever before. I can 
 af?()rd to tell you this, now that we are separated ; but rather 
 think it would sound very boyish if with you — distance 
 and danger make it all right. 
 
 "The night after the battle we slept upon the field in 
 great disorder, but perhaps more quietly, from great fatigue, 
 and from a feeling of security from interruption by the 
 enemy. They were having rather a restless time of it, but 
 their wild unrest was our repose. 
 
 "The summer moon shed its clear silver light upon the 
 tragic field, and the pale stars looked sadly down, as angels' 
 eyes from heaven, upon the dead, the dying, the sleeping 
 soldiers, and mystic scene — and never had I a happier rest 
 or brighter dreams. My spirit floated off to my Southern 
 home, and dwelt in the blissful realms of peace and love 
 — where my children, with their mother, were as palpably 
 before me as ever in actual life. 
 
 •' You 'must excuse this rambling sort of letter, my dear 
 wife, as the circumstances do not allow of me writing more 
 connectedly; but I shall try to improve upon it, in a few 
 days. Write to me often, as your letters are the greatest hap- 
 
370 BLOOM AND BRIER. 
 
 piness and the only comfort I have on earth. Give my love 
 to all the children, and tell them I will kiss them when I 
 come ; and you, dear absent wife, have, as always, the un- 
 divided love of your affectionate husband, 
 
 " Henry Brandon." 
 "P. S. — 'Sam Brandon' sends kind love to his family, 
 and his respects to you and the children. He is the same 
 faithful old servant that he ever was. I could scarcely 
 keep him off the battle-field: he was repeatedly during the 
 day on his horse looking out for me, in perfect range of 
 the enemy's fire ; he seems fearless, and swears harder than 
 ever. He has a fresh subject in the Yankees, and does it 
 full justice. Yours, H. B." 
 
 In reply to this letter, she immediately wrote the follow- 
 ing, which we give, as indicative of the feelings of Southern 
 wives, their employments, and their efforts to sustain their 
 home affairs : 
 
 "Juhj I2th, '61. 
 
 "A letter bearing date 5th July, has just been handed 
 to me, from My Dear Husband, informing me over his own 
 name of his safety. My first impulse was to sit down and 
 reply to it ; but for some time I was so overcome by my 
 feelings as to render it impossible to perform that ta^k of 
 love, duty, and thankfulness. I have at length, however, 
 become sufficiently composed to do so. 
 
 " Lhad already heard of the battle, and your escape, my 
 dear husband, through the letter of McK. Campbell ; but 
 mj anxiety refused to be quieted, until I should receive the 
 same intelligence in your own writing. That I now have 
 before me ; and on this beautiful Sunday morning", with the 
 children around me, I feel that 'Our Father in heaven' 
 had reserved this happiness for me to this blessed morning, 
 that I might be more mindful of His goodness and His 
 mercy, in still sparing you to me. 
 
 " Oh ! my dear husband, as right, as facts have developed 
 within the last few months, the South have been in begin- 
 ning this war, and resisting the current which threatened 
 her happiness, her welfare, and her particular civilization, 
 yet I confess, in my sorrow, and my bitterness of life, 
 that I am almost unable to stand up under the various 
 endurances it calls for. When I hear that a battle is to 
 
BLOOM AND BRIER. 371 
 
 be fought, in which it is probixble you ^vill be engao^ed I 
 really have no control over my mind ; and though I still 
 strive to perforin the duties which now devolve upon mo, 
 I yet am too sick at heart, to go through with them as I 
 should, and am onlv driven to hold up, just to sustain the 
 children, who, at times, are nearly as much disposed to 
 yield to despondency as myself, and appear to live in a 
 nameless kind of anticipation of trouble. 
 
 " For some time past, our home has looked as gloomy as 
 thouoh some dreadful doom impended it. Nothing has 
 appeared to escape it ; a sort of listening, lingering, sighmg 
 stillness pervades everything around, both in nature and 
 human life — the negroes are as much affected as ourselves. 
 But let me change the subject, and endeavor at least to 
 sav something of 'actual home matters. ^ 
 
 *"I am informed by the negroes, that the plantation affnirs 
 are going on verv smoothly, and the prospect for a good 
 crop was never better. Whether so or not, they deserve it, 
 as I have never known them to behave so well and so in- 
 dustriously, and take the greatest pleasure in bringing me 
 pleasant reports, thinking, I suppose, that matters of the 
 kind will cheer me ; but, oh ! how mistaken the poor crea- 
 tures are. I, however, am none the less obliged to them, 
 and particularly as they evince so much feeling for you: 
 for the last hour, since the word got out that I had heard 
 from you, the house has been literally thronged with them, 
 expressing their joy for your safety. 
 
 " I, like most all Southern women, favored secession ; 
 but now confess that I did not comprehend its real character 
 and results. I onlv looked to the causes, from a social point, 
 not from apolitical— from which I very naturally viewed 
 with indignation the course of the Northern politicians, in 
 regard to our private atiairs ; but with a still deeper indig- 
 na'tion, the pharisaical presumption of the Northern icomeu,, 
 in their insulting assumption of superior virtue, morality, 
 excellence, and intelligence, over those of the South,^and 
 this feeling I have never yet been able to overcome. That 
 wretched slander upon the South, 'Uncle Tom's Cabin 
 seems to have fastened it upon me ; and I will forever think 
 that the social condition of ray sex must be bad indeed, 
 when even its literary taste can only be gratified by a 
 meretricious slander, perpetrated by one of their number 
 
372 BLOOM AND BRIER. 
 
 upon their own sex, in another part of the same country. 
 Bat even with these just causes of resentment, I should 
 never have contributed my mite to the present condition of 
 affairs, could I only have foreseen the results. In some 
 atonement, I would now be perfectly willing to let that 
 wretched people have matters their own way — in philan- 
 thropy, morality, and literature, if by it, peace could be 
 restored to our wild, distracted, maddened South, or even 
 bring my husband back to his home, his children, and his 
 wife. 
 
 " My heart aches by night and by day, as I think that 
 anything I may have said and done, did by that much con- 
 tribute to our present separation. Oh ! my husband, it is 
 impossible for me to describe the bitter anguish, and the 
 heart-breaking solicitude that I bear up under — a pressure 
 is upon my very soul — and all the refuge I have, is with 
 a bleeding, stricken heart, to bow in prayer for you, for my 
 children, and for peace. But I have promised to write 
 more cheerfully if I could, and I will. 
 
 " The weather has been very hot for several weeks, but 
 yesterday there was a fine refreshing rain, and to-day the air 
 is cool, and nature appears all fresh and young again, and 
 how happy I could be if you were only with us I Every 
 breeze seems softly to breathe me the name that is dearest 
 to me on earth ; but, alas ! he that bears it, is far, too far 
 away. 
 
 " I know that you will do your duty nobly, as a gentle- 
 man and a soldier, yet I can derive no pleasure from that 
 thought. Your honor is your danger, and that I cannot 
 contemplate with the least resignation whatever, however 
 mortifying it would be to me, for you not to meet it prop- 
 erly. 
 
 " Surrounded as I am, by these gloomy shadows and 
 fearful solicitudes, you may judge that I have but few 
 moments unclouded by sorrow. In this perplexity and 
 anguish of spirit, after caressing our dear, innocent, grief- 
 stricken children, I turn back upon the past, as my next 
 source of happiness ; when our first meeting at Gregorie's 
 Spring comes vividly back to my memory, with all the 
 merry, joyous scenes of that day, and linger upon that 
 sort of prescience which I even then had, that you would 
 some time or other hold a different relation to me, from what 
 
BLOOM AND IJllIER. 373 
 
 you then did. I next think of the many intervening years 
 in which we never met; and still, how in all that time 
 your name would so often come up before rae, without any 
 apparent association — how perfectly I remembered your 
 face, and how instantly I knew you when we accidentally 
 met in the streets of Memphis. And, oh ! then, the many 
 happy, too happy years we since have spent in our planta- 
 tion-home. 
 
 " Until the clouds of this wretched war darkened the sky 
 of our home-joys, everything, and everybody, was happy 
 and contented — ourselves, our children, our friends, our 
 negroes, and the stranger that entered our gates ; yes, these, 
 all of these, had a joy and a gladness to beam in their eye. 
 Oh ! that Heaven, in some kind manner, would spare me 
 the sight of the contrary in the coming time. 
 
 "iVould now ask you, ray dear husband, to take care 
 of yourself, but that I know you cannot do. I still can 
 pray though, that some good angel may set a light in the 
 skies, which shall guide you through all the terrible dangers 
 of battle, and some day lead you back to the bosom of 
 your sorrowing family. 
 
 " Alice Hunter was over to see me yesterday, and though 
 her father is so opposed to thewar, -s/^e is quite enthusiastic 
 and jubilant, and very proud of the reputation which her 
 young sweetheart cousin, as she calls him, has appeared to 
 win ; and almost admits there is some little promise between 
 them — looking at, and speaking of the future most glow- 
 ingly. Poor girl! I almost fear there is some bitter drop in 
 the bottom of the cup which she little dreams of, and from 
 which she is drinking the ambrosial draught, only known 
 to youth and to innocence. 
 
 " The relations and friends, such as are at home, are all 
 well and very kind to us ; and nearly all of them very hope- 
 ful now of our * independence,' very resolute in their cause, 
 and appear astonished that I too am not so. 
 
 " I do not suppose there will be any military movement 
 on foot very soon. I shall, therefore, look for you every 
 day until I see you. The children send so many messages, 
 that my letter, long as it is, would not have contained them ; 
 but they are all full of love : they have done nothing but 
 talk of you for the last month, and seem ever to be won- 
 dering ' Where is father now ? ' 
 32 
 
374 BLOOM AXD BRIER. 
 
 " Tell ' Sam Brandon,' his wife and children are all well, 
 and send him all kinds of messages and love, as do all the 
 negroes, and our own children. 
 
 " Our hearts all yearn to see you again, which we now 
 hope will be before a great while ; until then, my dear 
 husband, you have the prayers and love of your devoted 
 wife, Mary Brandon-." 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 "Thoughts are but dreams till their effects be tried." 
 
 THE letter of Mrs. Brandon was but a simple expression 
 of the feelings which too many heart - stricken wives 
 suffered from, at some period of the war, and many through 
 it all. It was not, however, representative of the general 
 sentiment of the sex, which was even more inflamed, and 
 more proscriptive than that of the men. We will not give 
 the philosophy of this fact, but leave it in the condition of 
 a mere assertion which cannot be denied. 
 
 On the part of those who had advocated Secession, we 
 mean on the part of the opposite sex, there was an almost 
 undivided belief that war would not, nay, could not follow. 
 It was really believed by that particular school of poli- 
 ticians, who had been educated in, advocated, and had at 
 length inaugurated the doctrine, that the States had a con- 
 stitutional rio-ht to withdraw from the Union when it miirht 
 be thought judicious to do so, without responsibility to any 
 superior power whatever ; and as a correlative part of the 
 doctrine, that those which remained as the original gov- 
 ernment dared not overleap these constitutional rights 
 of the seceders. The singular and anomalous position 
 vras here presented, of one part wilfully throwing ofi' the 
 obligations of the Constitution, yet expecting the other to 
 
BLOOM AND BRIER. 375 
 
 be controlled by them. This singular obliquity was the 
 sure guarantee of -war, when least expected, and the least 
 prepared for. Had it not been for this theoretical position, 
 there would, indeed, have been no war. Whereas, the 
 practical application of the doctrine did unknowingly drift 
 the South into its terrible current, and her own destruction. 
 
 It must, however, be admitted that the character of the 
 debates on the Constitution very significantly pointed to 
 this right on the part of the States, and much of the lan- 
 guage used in expressing its meaning is susceptible of con- 
 struction favorable to the idea of extreme State sovereignty ; 
 and though it had never been tested, it yet had never been 
 lost sight of. It perhaps would never have been tested, if 
 the Northern people had not perpetrated so many indig- 
 nities upon the South — which gave out high and false 
 social aspects of Southern life and character — and finally 
 begun a systematic attack upon their personal rights, in the 
 matter of their slave property. These latter fiicts at length 
 determined the South to put the right of separation to a 
 practical test. Southern extremists thus secured all the 
 advantages they had long desired over the conservative ele- 
 ments ; and we know the results. 
 
 This point in the science of government is so plain and 
 so palpable, that it is difficult to believe that well-informed 
 men could have so far lost sight of it ; and can only be ex- 
 cused on the score of temper, which, itself, had foundation in 
 deep-seated ethnological causes, which had sho^Yn themselves 
 before on various occasions, though not so fully illustrated. 
 The war of 1812, the United States bank, the tariff*, slavery, 
 and other questions, had, in the previous history of the Gov- 
 ernment, developed organic antagonisms between the people 
 of the South and North ; and the country had never been 
 wanting in ambitious men on either side, who had inflamed 
 them to the utmost ; but it was reserved to the fatal year 
 of 1860, to bring culmination and collision. The election 
 
376 BLOOM AXD BRIER. 
 
 of Lincoln was nothing of itself, (even as he was nothing 
 of himself,) as the rights of the South were safe, so long as 
 she remained in the Union ; but it was the evidence of 
 things unseen, and a sign of the bitter extreme to which 
 prejudice on the one pai't, and temper on the other, had 
 been wrought up. Slavery was but the ostensible cause of 
 the collision — the quasi cause of war. The " irrepressible 
 conflict " was not really between slave and free labor, but 
 between the Norman of the South, and the Saxon of the 
 North, nor can the difference ever be reconciled, except under 
 a MONARCHICAL government. 
 
 The Northern people, however, made the mistake of sup- 
 posing that slavery was the cause of the war, and almost 
 to the very last period of it, the South was informed that 
 she could retain her slaves, provided she would return to 
 her allegiance ; but the scorn with which the proposition 
 was rejected, at once gave evidence that the sources of the 
 war were far deeper than that called for; and this the 
 Government of the United States might have seen, yet it 
 went on to the perpetration of a most malignant folly, and 
 the unmilitary expedient of setting them free — a lasting 
 shame upon its sense of justice, upon its chivalry, and its 
 statesmanship. Whether slavery was right or not, aristo- 
 cratic or not, valuable or not, it was still the 2jroperty of 
 the South, acquired under constitution a.l guarantees ; and 
 while it was not actively engaged in the war, its wilful 
 destruction was only a private injury and a national wrong, 
 in which the innocent suffered equally with the guilty. 
 Their dwelling-houses had as well been burned, because 
 they sheltered them. If it had been the cause of the 
 war, and it certainly was such ostensibly, the very appre- 
 hension of its destruction was a perfect justification of the 
 South in defending herself against the trespass. If it was 
 not the cause of the war, the act was indefensible, and the 
 South should now be paid for her property, equally with 
 
BLOOM AND IJ K 1 E R . 377 
 
 the bondholders of the North. If it teas the cause of the 
 war, the South was right for defending herself, and should 
 still be paid for it^ destruction. The hiw of rebellion ap- 
 plies to persons, not to property. Even in its simplest form, 
 any other position, let the custom of governments have 
 been what it may, cannot be sustained either in spirit or 
 in practice. 
 
 The Government professed to be defending itself — 
 granted ; but governments also are instituted for the pro- 
 tection of individuals in all their rights, and not for the 
 destruction of those rights. The reasons in favor of these 
 positions are too manifest, and the results of a contrary 
 course too plainly unjust, to require much argument in their 
 defence, and nothing but the raobocratic and fanatical 
 spirit of the Government will continue them to be rejected. 
 
 The war had now been going on for over two years, and 
 Southern arms had been victorious on every important 
 battle-field, since it had begun. The seven-days fighting 
 around Richmond had already taken place, and had left 
 the rebel capital without the apprehension of any early 
 danger, and all aglow with the expectation of recognition 
 on the part of the United States. The fighting had been 
 terrible indeed, in which prodigies of valor had been shown 
 on either side, and was a fair test of the military character 
 of the two people. It was not the inferiority of the one 
 which had lost the campaign, but the superiority of the 
 other that had won it. And yet, the Northern army was 
 overthrown with every, feature of ignominious defeat, and 
 Southern independence most surely calculated on. But it 
 did not come ! 
 
 Mr. Ray had been elected as one of the Senators from 
 Alabama, and had taken permanent rooms in Richmond, 
 Miss Sedley still remaining with them. Colonel Staflford 
 had been a regular visitor there, with the understanding of 
 being married at the ending of the war. 
 32* 
 
378 BLOOM AND BRIER. 
 
 Colonel Stafford had been in the army since the begin- 
 ning of the hostilities, and had participated in several 
 of its severest engagements without injury, until the 
 charge on Malvern Hill, during the fight around Rich- 
 mond. In that desperate affair, however, he had received 
 a most terrible wound in the shoulder, and was taken from 
 the battle-field directly to the residence of Mr. Ray. After 
 a Ions confinement, and the best attention, he had suffi- 
 ciently recovered to return to his own home, in North Ala- 
 bama. 
 
 Many weeks expiring after this celebrated campaign, 
 without any appearances of " recognition " on the part of 
 the United States, the Confederate Government at length, 
 with some confidence of success, determined on an invasion 
 of the enemy's country, not with any other view than hast- 
 ening an acknowledgment of its independence. So soon as 
 that policy was determined on, the War Department began 
 making all necessary preparations for carrying it out. 
 
 Colonel Stafford learning that this enterprise was in con- 
 templation, and having measurably regained his strength, 
 determined on returning to his regiment. In writing to 
 Miss Sedley, he spoke of the current intelligence in North 
 Alabama to that effect, and merely mentioned that he 
 thought his strenfTth suflScient to return to the armv, and 
 that she might expect the pleasure of his presence in a 
 couple of weeks at furthest. Immediately replying to him, 
 she urged him to remain, as she was satisfied from his con- 
 dition when he left, and from the length of time he had 
 been gone, that his strength was not sufficient to bear him 
 up under the excitement and fatigue of such a campaign. 
 
 We subjoin the letter, as somewhat illustrative of the 
 feeling of that period : 
 
 " Richmond, 2oth Augnxf, 1862. 
 
 "Dear Colonel Stafford: — Your last letter, inform- 
 ing me of your intended early return to the array, was 
 
BI.OOM AND BRIER. 379 
 
 handed to me not over half an hour since, and I seize this 
 immediate moment to reply to you, in order that no mail 
 may escape me, urging you to remain in Alabama. On 
 reading your letter, I comnmnicated your purpose to uncle 
 Ray, who happened to be in his room at the time, and to 
 aunt, both of whom unite with me in urging you to remain 
 away, as we are all satisfied that your physical condition 
 cannot be such as to justify your joining your regiment so 
 early. So, sir, with this accumulated authority, my request 
 rises well up to the dignity of a command from your supe- 
 riors, and vou are too well-trained a soldier to disobey it. 
 Rather than vou should suffer with your men, which I 
 know is part of your feeling, I will, myself, go to them, and 
 represent vour condition, and if the which shall not satisfy 
 them, I w'ill propose to play Joan d'Arc, and lead them 
 into the next battle in your stead. But in addition to the 
 arguments I have already used — and in all seriousness, 
 too — I hioiv of quite a number of men both about Hunts- 
 ville and Richmond, strong and healthy in person, who were 
 very strenuous advocates of Secession, and still profess to a 
 very high order of patriotism, who yet have never raised 
 an arm in this war. Let some of such noble-souled gentle- 
 men take your place for the next campaign ; give them a 
 chance to woo, if they cannot win, the favors of Mars ; let 
 them ventilate their quiet souls with the fumes of sulphur 
 and saltpetre. I know they are willing, and only want an 
 opportunity to prove it. Yes, I am serious in this very 
 proposition, but I am even more serious when I say that 
 such men deserve the lasting scorn of every ifo??m«, even in 
 the South. They are even worse than cowards, no matter 
 what their plea for remaining out of the army ; who, Avhile 
 they watch for, and nose out every 'bomb-proof position 
 for 'their own mean persons, yet use all their efforts to drive 
 others into it, and whether we succeed or fail, I hope they 
 will be held in everlasting scorn. So much for these Buck- 
 in ghams. 
 
 " j\[r. Davis and his friends so highly estimate the effects 
 of the late Confederate victories, that they look with much 
 confidence for peace and rscognition, and as a sort of addi- 
 tional persuasive, have indeed resolved upon a move into 
 the enemy's country. The army, therefore, will soon be 
 under marching orders. I very sincerely hope his expec- 
 
380 BLOOM AND BRIER. 
 
 tations will have some better foundation than those he has 
 heretofore expressed ; having, allow me to say it, every 
 private consideration for thus hoping, in addition to public 
 considerations. Such as are personal, I will give you, pro- 
 vided you promise not to think me transcending the nar- 
 rowest limits of female delicacy. 
 
 "First, then, all my brightest and best hopes in life, so 
 far from connecting themselves with the scenes of which I 
 now compose an unwilling part, concentrate upon a future 
 that locates itself far away in "Dixie," surrounded by the 
 quiet pleasures of a retired home of my own, with a certain 
 rebel officer I know of, for its master. This, sir knight, is 
 the salient sketch and pleasing outline of the plan with 
 which I very often, of late, refresh and soothe my anxious 
 heart. Does it please you ? If so, your remaining where 
 you are, is the prominent figure in the picture. 
 
 " Since the defeat of the Federals, Richmond has ex- 
 ceeded itself in gayety, reckless dissipation, and as 1 learn, 
 corruption of every kind. All of which, I presume, 
 naturally proceeds from that peculiar society which invari- 
 ably gathers about a revolutionary metropolis. But some- 
 how, 1 cannot but argue badly for the social condition of 
 the South, in event of success, on account of it, as it is very 
 far from representing that devoted and elevated patriotism 
 with which we first set out, without which I have always 
 feared we could not succeed, or even ought to succeed. An 
 improper appreciation and use of success, would be worse 
 for us than defeat. Those who have done the very least in 
 this war, by which I mean those who have lived in the 
 most perfect ease, luxury even, and cowardly safety, are 
 now the loudest in the use of the pronoun we, and appro- 
 priate the chief honor of our success up to this time. I am 
 still as devoted to the Confederate cause as ever ; but con- 
 fess myself very often feeling great disgust for its assumed 
 leaderships, and almost feel willing to see it fail just to 
 crush out these miserable people; and sigh for escape and 
 for a refuge from them in the society of one whose fate 
 seems wrapt up with my own, and whose place in my heart 
 none other ever has or can fill. But I grow lack-a-daisical. 
 
 " Uncle, in common with others, thinks we shall soon 
 have propositions of peace, and I think rather prides him- 
 self upon the idea of being senator for the long term, from 
 
BLOOM AND BRIER. 381 
 
 the great cotton State of Alabama. Aiint, too, looks for- 
 ward Willi much apparent pleasure to the future, which, 
 indeed, seems quite flattering to her now. I can see but 
 little, however, to compensate her for the perfect absence 
 of domesticity, which 1 know she dearly loves, and adorns 
 in so lovely a manner ; but she is acting a part for the sake 
 of her husband, and certainly performs it very handsomely. 
 To please me, though, it is all too hollow, too unreal ; and 
 if she should, from any cause, fail in her ambitious purposes, 
 there will be nothing to fall back upon. 
 
 " Maugre all this, you must tell the people at home, that 
 the people here are very exultant over our condition and 
 successes, and jubilant ov^er the prospect of an early peace ; 
 and not to relax in their eflbrts to assist the Government, 
 as failure now would be a reflection upon their courage 
 forevei^, beside bringing upon themselves such a despotism, 
 as no Christian people have ever endured — that the North 
 is mortified beyond measure, and will visit their shame 
 upon us to the fullest extent, if it should ever be in their 
 power to do so. Yes, keep their hopes and courage up now. 
 NVe have nothing to hope for outside of success. 
 
 "Indeed, the North has just found out that it will not 
 only require all their own military strength proper, but all 
 they can hire from abroad, to overcome the jioor, unarmed, 
 hungry, naked South ; and in addition to calling for 
 100,000 more men, are swelling their plethoric ranks with 
 such of our deluded negroes as they capture or can induce 
 to go to them. 
 
 " Yes, they feel with a burning shame that had the South 
 possessed one-half their resources, in either men or muni- 
 tions of war, her banners would now be floating from every 
 hill-top in their frozen, barren land. 
 
 " Deeply as I deplore this desolating war, I yet feel will- 
 ing to see every man a cripple, and every woman and child 
 working in the field to support them, in preference to sub- 
 mitting to a people who appear so lost to every generous 
 emotion toward us. 
 
 " This may sound unfeminine, but better be that than 
 degraded, as we all shall be if the Confederacy should prove 
 a failure. I am now satisfied that the Northern people 
 have traditional, as well as personal causes of hate toward 
 us, and personal shame to avenge; and judge so from their 
 
382 BLOOM AND BRIER. 
 
 insults to the people, and their actual thieving and robbing 
 wlierever they have gained possession in the ISouth. 
 
 " I wish you to tell them for me, if that will do any good, 
 that right or wrong this is no time to inquire — our best 
 and only hope is to conquer, or to die — to go to the bitter 
 end, let it be as bitter as it may. But between ourselves, 
 I fear there are too many already lost to all such emotion ; 
 and the accusation, too, lies mainly at the door of those who 
 precipitated us into war. Richmond is full, and I hear it 
 is the same in other places, of able-bodied men, young and 
 old, holding some execrable ' bomb-proof,' the which, to- 
 gether with the terrible speculation in the currency, and in 
 the hard-extreme-necessities of the country, will greatly en- 
 danger our prospects, if peace does not soon follow our late 
 successes. I fear the fighting element of the country has 
 been fully brought out and very much exhausted. Con- 
 scripts, and safety-seekers, never will carry this revolution 
 on to success, and our same army cannot long sustain such 
 drafts, as these terrible battles make upon it. 
 
 "I have now written you a long political letter, which I 
 did not intend, but not without its social features, I hope ; 
 but as subjects of this kind are all that I ever hear dis- 
 cussed, my mind naturally runs upon them, and you will 
 have to pardon me. When we meet we will talk of some- 
 thing else — shan't we? Until then, be it long or short, 
 you may rest assured that I remain aflectionately your own 
 
 "Margaret Sedley.'* 
 
 "P. S. — I enjoin you to remain in Alabama, until you 
 hear from me ao^ain. M. S." 
 
BLOOM AND BRIER. 383 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 *'And homeless near a thousand homes I stood, 
 And near a thousand tables pined and wanted food." 
 
 THIS letter reached Alabama just as Colonel Stafford 
 was slowly recovering from a relapse which precluded 
 all idea of his immediate return to the army; he was, there- 
 fore, compelled to remain in Alabama, much against his 
 inclination, and replied to Miss Sedley, as follows: 
 
 "Rose Hill, Ala., Septewber bth, 1S62. 
 
 "INIy Dear Margaret : — The fates were in your favor, 
 and I obey your commands on compulsion. A slight re- 
 lapse, just before receiving your letter, has rendered it 
 impossible for me to carry out the design of returning to 
 my regiment, and think I now have a very clear idea of 
 the trouble which rose up before the great soul of Falataff, 
 when he protested to Prince Hal against the idea of ' com- 
 pulsion ; ' whether I have or not, 1 know that I am still 
 in Alabama, very much against my inclination, in a sort 
 of quasi obedience to your commands — on compulsion — 
 on my own once very completely regulated, abundant, and 
 beautiful plantation, but now, devastated, ruined, and 
 almost deserted. The appearance of everything about my 
 once pleasant home makes the desire to return to the army 
 almost uncontrollable, whether sick or well, and there to 
 remain until 1 am either dead, or the miserable creatures, 
 calling themselves soldiers, who have desecrated my coun- 
 try and my home, shall be driven back to their o\Nn or fill 
 felons' graves. You can possibly form no idea of the ruin 
 which tlie wretches committed on this defenceless country 
 for the short tim.e they held it. The entire valley of the 
 ' Tennessee ' reminds me of descriptions given of the des- 
 erts, the plains, and the ruins along the Jordan, more than of 
 that lovely country, once so noted for its rehricd society, its 
 beautiful hijmes, and its luxuriant fields. The very ring 
 and sung of desolation trembles over the extended land- 
 scape that lies along either side of this noble river. For 
 miles, scarce a living tiling is to be seen, more than now 
 
384 BLOOM AND BEIER. 
 
 and then an old decrepit negro, or lame horse, ^-ho ^vas 
 unable to leave on the exodus of this gallant house-robbing, 
 horse-thieving, old-men-hanging, house-burning army of 
 old Lincoln's ! In too many, ah, too many places, nothing 
 stands to mark the homes of your friends, but thin, tall, and 
 lonely-looking chimney stems, which I hope may long be 
 permitted to stand as monuments to the chivalry of the 
 Christian Puritan, that other days may have some palpable 
 record of his assumed enlightenment and pious philan- 
 thropy. 
 
 " From the persons left behind, some of both colors, I 
 learn the utter destitution to ^vhich nearly all of our friends 
 have been wantonly reduced, most of whom managed to 
 make their way to such parts of the State still held by 
 the Confederates; and now that our army is again in occu- 
 pancy of the country, many of our best old citizens have 
 nothing to return to, or to return with. 
 
 " I believe the feeling occasioned by such sights, and by 
 such information, was the cause of my relapse, and I now 
 grow so nervous writing of them, that I can scarce hold my 
 pen to write legibly. If the thousands upon thousands of 
 able-bodied men, both young and old, who still hang about 
 their homes on one pretence or another, and, as you say, 
 holding ' bomb-proofs,' would only come to the valley of 
 the Tennessee, they would, if they had the hearts of men in 
 their bosoms, throw aside such despicable employments, 
 and rush to the army. 
 
 " I am informed that the Federals who held possession 
 here, were a most godless crew, drawn from their own large 
 cities, and from Europe, with a large sprinkling of our own 
 base-blooded people, and negroes, and the depredations and 
 horrible deeds they committed were just such as this com- 
 mingled hell-broth of a gathering called for. My ovrn 
 dwelling has been burned — many of the out-houses, most 
 of my fences ; and nearly all of the provisions were taken, 
 such only being left as were secured by the more faithful 
 negroes ; and most of the negroes themselves left with the 
 army on its retreat. 
 
 " Such, my dear Margaret, is the basis of the Arcadian 
 picture, which you hinted at in your letter. I have tried 
 to grow sentimental over it, but my temper gets the better 
 of me, and in place of any beautiful lines of poetry coming 
 
BLOOM AND BRIER. 385 
 
 to my aid, the old nursery dofrgercl of * Humplirey ^vith 
 lii.s flail and Dorothy Drago:letair ever haunts my mem- 
 ory. How do you like the picture and the prospect? 
 
 " I cannot, in my present state of health, return to the 
 army, but no persuasion, no consideration can keep me 
 longer than the first hour that I am able to travel. I love 
 life, perhaps, as well as any young man, but I school my- 
 self into loving honor, justice, and the land of my birth even 
 more, and I hope I am willing to give every drop of blood 
 in my body to defend them. What has been shed in that 
 way, is welcome to have spilt, and I only regret that I have 
 not a thousand times as much to shed in the same cause. 
 If my arm were only stronger, the desolation of my home 
 should soon be avenged on some one ; but I will bide my 
 time — me or mine will yet have revenge. 
 
 " I was a secessionist before the war. First, because I 
 disliked living with the Yankee people : they are a people 
 who have but little elevated self-respect, and, therefore, but 
 little respect for others. Again, I was one from education ; 
 yet, on what would have been a proper assurance of good 
 faith at the ' Peace Conference,' I should have been willing 
 to return to the Union, offensive as the thing was to me. 
 But now, after the ravages, robberies, desecrations, and 
 meannesses which they have been guilty of since the war 
 began, I would rather perish by the rope, starvation, or 
 disease, every hour in the day, than go back with them ; and 
 if left to ME, I would raise the black jiay in twenty-four 
 hours, if I were sure of falling the first victim, before I 
 would live an hour in allegiance to a flag which has only 
 proven itself the badge of my dishonor and ruin. 
 
 " What I say is in no spirit of boasting, but with the 
 feeling of a man whose home has been outraged by a ruth- 
 less band of cowards, under the pretence of carrying on 
 war. After what I have seen, I am prepared for the worst, 
 and don't fear it. There is nothing they will not do, if 
 they can do it ; and I only wish I had a thousand lives to 
 give my country against such hypocritical miscreants — the 
 last would go as freely as the first. 
 
 " I shall leave here at the earliest possible moment, in 
 
 sheer justice to myself, as hate is becoming the absorbing 
 
 feeling of my heart, and while the paroxysm is on me, even 
 
 love loses all its soft allurements, and beauty all its blan- 
 
 38 
 
fjiSb BLOOM AXD BRIER. 
 
 dishments ; but don't get frightened. I never fail to 7'e- 
 cover so soon as the name of my own dear *Mag' comes 
 to my memory ; the present then loses all its pressure in 
 the happy visions of the future. 
 
 " I would tell you of the condition of many of your 
 young friends, but it is too wretched to relate. Any house 
 that was left unburnt in the valley, has been entered by 
 lawless men, professing to be soldiers, and rifled of every- 
 thing possessing the least value. In many, too many in- 
 stances, the very last provisions were taken, leaving the 
 helpless, undefended families in utter want. Every species 
 of stock was driven off, and every vehicle capable of roll- 
 ing on its wheels, and nearly all of the servants were taken 
 away, after being made to treat their former owners with 
 every possible indignity. You may now have some idea of 
 the situation. Suffice it, that one of the finest landscapes 
 of the South, for grandeur, beauty, freshness and fertility, 
 now presents but the haggard desolation peculiar to the 
 jDlains of woe ! 
 
 "Amid the universal gloom that surrounds me, and reigns 
 throughout this portion of the valley, there comes nothing 
 to relieve my sorrow, but the memory of your own bright 
 eyes, the loveliness of your own sweet face, and the joyous- 
 ness of your own merry laugh. When, either in dreams or 
 in waking hours, these come back to me, I forget my grief 
 for all outward things, and live over again the happy hours 
 of the past. Kow, is n't that speech equivalent to many of 
 the pretty ones you made to me ? But I have written as 
 much as my strength will allow. 
 
 " Write often ; your letters revive me. Thanking you 
 for your last long and pleasant letter, I remain, 
 " Yours affectionately, 
 
 " CaPwTer Stafford." 
 
 We have given the foregoing letter of Colonel Stafford 
 to Miss Sedley, that our distant readers may have some idea 
 of the devastations of the Federal army wherever they could 
 obtain a foothold in the South. This conduct, however, 
 was used by Confederate leaders, as a strong argument in 
 favor of keeping up the war. This style of reasoning ex- 
 erted but a sickly sort of influence in that direction, wliile 
 
BLOOM AND BRIER. 387 
 
 the people in those districts continued to grow more de- 
 spondent, yet the network and meshes of a de facto govern- 
 ment forced them to go on, knowingly, to their own de- 
 struction. Feeling all the force of these facts, they still 
 look upon the last act of destroying their property without 
 compensation and without cause, and many of the previous 
 acts of the Government, as particularly unjust. They were 
 helpless, and if the Government was not able to come to 
 their assistance, it should not have punished them for its 
 own delinquency, hy the destruction of their property, and 
 other political degradations, that have been heaped upon 
 them, for that which they had no power to avoid. The con- 
 script law was evidence of their condition and their feelino-s. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 "Great thoughts, great feelings came to them 
 Like instincts, unawares." 
 
 THE war had continued to be prosecuted with its orig- 
 inal unrelenting bitterness and obstinacy, and the 
 Southern army had returned from its fruitless campaign 
 into Maryland, having, for the first time since the com- 
 mencement of hostilities, lost some of its victorious prestige. 
 Previous to this, the United States Government had trem- 
 bled to its deepest foundations from the terrible blows it had 
 received ; but the attempt to penetrate the enemy's country, 
 at once exposed the munitial weakness of the South, and 
 restored the drooping energies of the Federal Government. 
 This double effect of the battle of Sharpsburg was the 
 beginning of those reverses which, in little over a year 
 longer, ended in the fall of Southern arms, but left their 
 glory and their chivalry the highest inscribed on the monu- 
 ment of military fame, where the Southern " Slave-driver " 
 
388 BLOOM AXD BRIER. 
 
 now stands recorded, in letters of gold, as the Paladin of 
 the modern world. Silence, ye slanderers! Avaunt, ye 
 cowards ! 
 
 Many truthful apologies were offered for the failure of 
 the Maryland campaign, and the Confederate Congress, 
 which had met again, felt no falling off in its enthusiastic 
 hopes, prophecies, and assurances of success. INtr. Davis, 
 too, had announced in his message that it was the third and 
 last year of the war, and exhorted the people to go on to 
 their early independence. The Confederate capital was 
 once again illumined by the shimmering lights of a doomed, 
 but a fearless, reckless, and voluptuous gayety. 
 
 Enthusiastic but mistaken politicians, fashionable women, 
 speculators, blockade - runners, contractors, professional 
 gamblers, and army officers, were all present, dashing about 
 in the swift confusions, the wild and blood-stained glamour 
 of the rebel metropolis — restless, excited, and panting 
 after that which they knew not of, nor could define. 
 
 The politicians were ever plotting, scheming, and speak- 
 ing, and seemed in daily expectation of some wonderful 
 event. The speculators, blockade-runners, and contractors 
 were looking to gains ; but seemed consternated that the 
 fabulous returns of to-day resulted in nothing to-morrow. 
 They themselves were turning the wheel of fortune, but 
 could not keep pace with its speed and changes — the 
 higher the ascent, the swifter and harder the fall — and to 
 the very last hour, did not realize the cause, the unreality. 
 
 The fashionable women — we name not their purposes, 
 had none perhaps — were moths, flying around the garish 
 lights that were now burning to their sockets. The army 
 officers, ay, they knew their business : they were on their 
 ways to and fro, from fields of blood. 
 
 On an evening in the early spring of 1 863, the doors of 
 the Presidential mansion were thrown open for reception, 
 and there met on that occasion the representative men and 
 
BLOOM AND BRIER. 389 
 
 women of the Confederacy — tlie political elite of this new 
 political movement. Mr. Davis, whatever may have been 
 his attractiveness in younger days, was now on the list of 
 valetudinarians, and of course, not very engaging either 
 in manners, conversation, or person. So much has health 
 to do with amenity, and strength to do with impression. He 
 yet went through the formality of receiving his friends with 
 rather an uncommon pleasantness, as he moved with dignity 
 through the vast throng ; and in return, received the usual, 
 if not the enthusiastic adulations of the multitude, to the 
 chief of what was chosen to be considered the head of a 
 successful revolution, and, in this instance, known to have 
 been borne along by a war, unequalled for its inequality, 
 bitterness, bloodshed, and extent, in the history of revolu- 
 tions ; and waged with a fierce, wild chivalry, which only 
 the stories of mediaeval romance can equal, in the lights and 
 shades of gallantry and carnage. His Cabinet were present 
 too, smiling in the pleasing satisfaction of being chief ad- 
 visers in the proud work of placing the South on this high 
 tide of national greatness. 
 
 Army officers of every grade were also there, who very 
 justly eclipsed the heroes of peace and "bomb-proofs" in 
 attention from those who, in some of the walks of life, con- 
 trol the reputations of men — the women. 
 
 Prominent among the latter were our old friends, Colonel 
 Brandon, General Campbell, and Colonel Stafford, who, 
 with others of military distinction were the observed of the 
 evening. 
 
 Colonel Brandon had never been a warm admirer of Mr. 
 Davis, and this was his first presence in the Presidential 
 mansion. While walking leisurely about and observing 
 the company, he accidentally met with Miss Sedley, leaning 
 on the arm of Colonel Stafford. He had not seen her 
 before during the evening, nor indeed, for several weeks 
 previous to this, and the meeting was mutually agreeable. 
 
390 BLOOM AND BRIER. 
 
 Congratulating him on his first appearance at a Presiden- 
 tial reception, she immediately asked him to let her have 
 the honor of personally introducing him, as he had always 
 promised her she should do, if she ever obtained his con- 
 sent, to be made acquainted with Mr. Davis. His previous 
 refusal to have personal presentation was well known to his 
 friends, and none of them had approached him on the mat- 
 ter, when Miss Sedley proposed it. 
 
 The opportunity was a favorable one, and from his pres- 
 ence that evening she supposed he had overcome what he 
 called his reluctance, whether founded on prejudice or not, 
 and, therefore, she repeated the request, to which Brandon 
 jocularly replied : 
 
 " I appreciate the pleasure of having been introduced to 
 Miss Sedley, some two years and more since, far higher than 
 I should the distinction of being introduced to Mr. Davis, 
 even by so fair an interlocutor as Miss Sedley herself is." 
 
 "Oh! Colonel Brandon; you certainly have all the ele- 
 ments for making a most successful courtier, and the won- 
 der is that you do not avail yourself of them. INTeither the 
 reputation which you have gained of being a man of bril- 
 liant intellect, nor that of being a distinguished soldier, 
 appears in the least to have soothed your secession asperity^ 
 or modified your views." 
 
 " No, lady ; you are right ; the constant exposure of this 
 sacred person of mine to the danger of secession battle- 
 fields are but poor persuasives in that direction." 
 
 '' You should not lay the charge of exposure to danger 
 at the door of secession, since it is voluntary on your part." 
 
 " Yes ; you are partially right ; but then I cannot sepa- 
 rate myself from my own people, or plead exemption from 
 their fortunes, because of the mistakes of our leaders; 
 every instinct of my heart requires me to go with them. 
 Yet I cannot look upon these prominent officials as kindly 
 perhaps as I should." 
 
BLOOM AND BRIER. 391 
 
 "Let me beg you, Colonel, as a young lady who admires 
 you very much, not to indulge in such idiosyncrasies of 
 opinion. You differ from all your best friends, who are 
 desirous oi jnomoting you, if you would only place yourself 
 or let them place you in the line of promotion. Why, sir, 
 when this war is ended, our Government wmII be the courted 
 cue of the earth; and nothing is* more certain than your 
 securing a foreign mission, which you know would be quite 
 agreeable, and nothing more than you deserve." 
 
 "Ah! if I valued such a position, my only chance for 
 obtaining it, lies in the betrayal of the Confederacy." 
 
 "Why do you say that. Colonel?" 
 
 " Simply, because the Confederacy has the only ministers 
 abroad she will ever have." 
 
 " Are you not afraid, sir, to make such sweeping re- 
 marks?" said she, laughingly. 
 
 " Why should I fear. Miss Sedley ; can I fear such men 
 as I see around me to-night ? What proportion of fighting 
 men is here ? one in ten, ay, one in fifty — and this fact is 
 spreading all over the South. If Mr. Davis could only 
 appreciate these facts, he would see his case to be a hope- 
 less one, and at once begin negotiations for a re-entrance 
 to the Union." 
 
 " I fear you are about to yield up that favorite idea of 
 yours, with which you once so delighted me. The superi- 
 ority of the Southern to the Puritan, the Norman to the 
 Saxon." 
 
 " No ; so far from giving it up, I am more confirmed in 
 it than ever. The few cannot overcome the many, let what 
 advantages exist on the part of the few that may. The 
 true Southern blood, I mean the Norman, whether you find 
 it in the rich or the great, the poor or the humble, is the 
 best in the world ; better now in this country than in Eng- 
 land. It has improved by transportation, the circumstances 
 of the country, and the influence upon it of African slavery ; 
 
392 BLOOM AXD BRIEK. 
 
 yet it has some of the very worst, I had almost said meanest 
 elements that enter into human constitution, which, when 
 not controlled by education or other moral influence, cul- 
 minates in very bad character ; but altogether, the Southern 
 people have more of that combination of qualities which 
 bears up under any and all pressure, than any people of 
 the world ; but mind you again, all of the Southern people 
 are not Norman. There are many ; yes, a very large per 
 cent, now of a nondescript, mongrel cast, whose persons, 
 character, and opinions cannot be traced to any one race, 
 blood, intellect, or nationality — don't know who or what 
 they are ; and these are more to be watched and avoided 
 than any people I know. This class of Southerners are 
 dangerous without being brave, unfeeling and unsym- 
 pathetic without especial ill-will, grasping without being 
 stingy — with no particular character of emotion, no 
 standard of conduct, good or bad ; nor any well-ordered 
 purposes ; negative as to honor and honesty, and always 
 acting according to circumstances." 
 
 " Colonel Brandon," replied Miss Sedley, " I apprehend 
 that laggardism in certain quarters has somewhat embit- 
 tered you. How can you tell this class ? " 
 
 " You used the right word — laggardism. A true South- 
 ron may be an idler, either from habit or from circum- 
 stances ; but never a coward, a skulker, or a laggard, and 
 by one or the other, you can safely class this fellow." 
 
 " By that rule there is many a mongrel among us." 
 
 " Yes ; enough to have assisted greatly in bringing on the 
 war, and certainly enough to make it fail." 
 
 " And vou still think the South will fail, Colonel Bran- 
 don?" 
 
 " I certainly do." 
 
 " Then why do you expose your life ? " 
 
 " For several reasons ; and first, because I did not have 
 the moral courage to resist doing so after I had opposed it. 
 
BLOOM AND BRIER. 393 
 
 I did not wish the charge of fear to be brought against me ; 
 but last, I desired that the South should make history at 
 least, as I knew she could never succeed in accomplishing 
 her purposes ; and required every man's strength." 
 
 " Are these the reasons for which you expose your life? " 
 
 " Yes ; the leading ones at least, and I feel this moment 
 that I am wrong, and will suffer for it." 
 
 " In what way, Colonel Brandon ? " 
 
 " ^yith my life." 
 
 " OR ! Colonel Brandon ; you make me shudder by the 
 coolness of your speculations." 
 
 " So I may ; but they are such as I feel." 
 
 Colonel Stafford had left Miss Sedley in company with 
 Colonel Brandon, very soon after they met, and they had 
 had the foregoing conversation, while walking slowly to- 
 gether through the room. Just as he uttered the last 
 words, they passed near Mr. Davis, who immediately rec- 
 ognizing her, stepped in front, and spoke in a very cordial 
 manner, as he had always professed a high admiration for 
 her. She replied to his pleasant salutation, and imme- 
 diately introduced Colonel Brandon. 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 "Lofty and proud, to them that loved him not; 
 But to those men that sought him, sweet as summer." 
 
 I AM glad to meet you. Colonel Brandon," said Mr. 
 Davis, in reply to the introduction of Miss Sedley, at 
 the same time shaking him cordially by the hand ; " your 
 services, your reputation, and your friends have made your 
 name very familiar to me, and I have often desired to meet 
 with you." 
 
394 BLOOM AXD BRIER. 
 
 " I am obliged to you, sir, and also to my friends, for the 
 polite mention which has secured such distinguished rec- 
 ognition, and permit me to be as justly complimentary to 
 yourself — I, too, have heard very favorably and approv- 
 ingly of Mr. Davis, from his friends." 
 
 " Thank you, Colonel," said Mr. Davis, in a more ani- 
 mated manner than usual, with the color rising to his pal- 
 lid features, as if scarcely comprehending the words of 
 Colonel Brandon ; " I have always endeavored to be worthy 
 of the kind consideration and approval of my frienJs." 
 
 " Gentlemen," said Miss Sedley, who was on familiar 
 terms with fhem both, " pardon me for introducing a card- 
 playing technicality as illustrative of your language — 
 * honors are easy ' betAveen you in the way of compliment ; 
 you must, therefore, allow me to add my contribution to 
 the courtesies of the evening, by saying that I have never 
 known a mutuality of congratulations so worthily made." 
 
 Both gentlemen immediately bowed to her, and Mr. 
 Davis replied, '*' Unless you had been one of the parties, 
 Miss Margaret." 
 
 " Ah, Mr. Davis, this is not the first obligation you have 
 placed me under; yet I am always happy to see your mind 
 relieve itself from the pressure oi Federal affairs, and stray 
 away into its natural realm of poetry — bagatelle." 
 
 " Yes, Mr. Lincoln may be a very clever man, but he is 
 a good deal like Banquo's ghost — he often comes to my 
 mind without bidding, and yet he is graceful enough to 
 vanish before the presence of beauty. Does my answer suit 
 your meaning ? " 
 
 " Most assuredly," she replied, laughing heartily. " Colo- 
 nel Brandon, had you any idea that the chief rebel of 
 the earth could so unbend his bow as to enter the lists of 
 compliment with a country girl ? " 
 
 " The strongest bow should be unstrung when not in use, 
 Miss Margaret, and Mr. Davis could certainly have no 
 
BLOOM AND BRIER. 395 
 
 more pleasing and proper occasion to do so, than wlicu 
 meeting with yourself." 
 
 The conversation had gradually changed to more serious 
 subjects, when Colonel Brandon said : 
 
 "Will you permit me to ask a question of you, Mr. 
 Davis,^ which, as it may appear rather bold, you may re- 
 serve an answer, if you think it an improper one to reply 
 to?" 
 
 " Certainly, Colonel Brandon ; a soldier of such gallant- 
 ry has a right to ask what question he pleases." 
 
 " I am obliged to you, sir ; but it has been asserted, by 
 those, of course, who were not friendly to your cause, that 
 even before the election of Lincoln, the Southern leaders 
 had resolved on, and arranged all the details of a separate 
 government ; is there any truth in it ? " 
 
 " None whatever, to my knowledge. The wdiole thing 
 was improvised at the meeting of the first Provisional Con- 
 gress, at Montgomery, and I entertained great hopes, up to 
 that time, that the Congress of the United States would 
 offer some conciliatory proposition — which it ought to 
 have done, and was well able to do." 
 
 " Would you, then, be willing to return to that Govern- 
 ment, if proper reparations and guarantees were assured to 
 you ? " 
 
 " No ; not now\ They w^ere refused to us, and we have 
 declared to the w^orld that we are a free and independent 
 Government, and have, in some sort, been recognized as 
 such ; and by the unsurpassed gallantry of our army, have 
 measurably secured the position. To return would, there- 
 fore, be to compromise our character, and the chivalry of 
 our soldiers." 
 
 " Do you think the doctrine of ' State Rights,' as under- 
 stood in this country, Mr. Davis, a legitimate principle in 
 the science of government ? " 
 
 "No, I do not ; I think it a pure Americanism, growing 
 
396 BLOOM AND BRIER. 
 
 out of our confederated system, and therefore, only legiti- 
 mate by circumstances ; but it was the only safety of the 
 South, while in confederation with the stronger States of 
 the North." 
 
 "Yes, I am aware of the arguments given in defence 
 of the doctrine, and my reason for asking, was to learn 
 whether you did not think it a dangerous one to introduce 
 into the New Government." 
 
 " Yes, I certainly do ; it leaves too wide a field for arbi- 
 trary action in the States." 
 
 " I have heard you say the same thing. Colonel Bran- 
 don," said Miss Sedley, " and am pleased to see two gentle- 
 men agree, who the world thinks so wide apart." 
 
 " You perhaps have heard, Mr. Davis — that, at least, is 
 the allusion of Miss Sedley — that I opposed Secession, and 
 am yet of opinion, that we will fail to establish a separate 
 Government." 
 
 " Yes, sir, I have heard of your views, and fully recog- 
 nize your right to express them ; but would suggest the 
 policy of not expressing them too publicly, or your own men 
 might desert you." 
 
 " Not the least danger of that, sir ; but let me ask you 
 again, and pardon me for detaining you." 
 
 " Certainly ; I feel great pleasure in conversing with you, 
 Colonel Brandon," said Mr. Davis, interrupting him. 
 
 "Was the precise purpose, in withdrawing from the 
 Union, that of perpetuating Slavery ? " 
 
 " No ; it was not mine, at least ; as I knew slavery to be 
 stronger in the Union than out. I believe, however, that 
 some did believe it would be strengthened, and from them 
 the idea obtained prevalence. My course had its founda- 
 tion in what I saw to be organic difference between the 
 Northern and Southern people — their perfect incompati- 
 bility, and the difference in their interests. No ; the South 
 no longer required negro labor to the extent — the manner, 
 
BLOOM AND BRIER. 397 
 
 at least, in which she was using it. Let slavery have been 
 what it may to us in the past, it is now acting as a blight 
 upon the higher destinies of the South, in perfectly neu- 
 tralizing its capital. We require no more of such develop- 
 ment as that style of labor brings about. Mind you, I 
 only speak of slavery, as at present sustained and employed, 
 from an economical point of view, (so far as the negro 
 himself is concerned, he is better off as a slave in the South, 
 than he has ever been elsewhere, or can be as a jree man. 
 His labor, too, as at present organized, is essential to the 
 present prosperity of the South, and to the prevention of a 
 financial collapse ;) but I allude to his title by purchase, 
 and the single direction of agriculture in which his labor 
 is held. Purchased labor is neces.^arily the dearest that 
 can be used, and you yourself know the operations — it is 
 to make cotton to buy negroes, and buy negroes to make 
 cotton. The cotton thus depreciates, and the labor, which 
 produces it, appreciates in even greater ratio. We must 
 see the eventual result of this — it is already partially 
 developed." 
 
 " Yes ; I have long looked at the subject from the same 
 point ; but have you ever speculated as to any practical 
 method of getting out of this never-ending but narrowing 
 circle?" 
 
 " I have ; but the popular mind is not prepared to re- 
 ceive any propositions tending in that direction, and this 
 fact is largely attributable to the Northern abolitionism, 
 with which the mind of the whole North has become in- 
 fected, and which the South is not disposed to bear with." 
 
 *' Does your plan contemplate the negro becoming a full 
 citizen ? — a suffragan ? — a freeman ? " 
 
 " By no means ; we do not need him as a citizen ; we 
 could make no possible use of his feeble intellect. Suffrage 
 naturally and properly accompanies and flows from intelli- 
 gence and wealth — where there is neither, it should never 
 34 
 
398 BLOOM AND BEIER. 
 
 be bestowed, and always becomes otherwise a fruitful source 
 of trouble. Demagogues who wish to secure place and 
 powder, would immediately make use of him. No Govern- 
 ment can escape civil commotions, when suffrage is uni- 
 versal — its constant effort is to attack capital. The less 
 suffrage there is in a country up to a certain point, the 
 freer, the happier, and the more peaceful the people, and 
 the stronger the Government." 
 
 " I am happy to agree with you in these questions. But 
 will you give me your opinion as to the ultimate fortune or 
 end of the negro, in event of his qualified emancipation, 
 which I infer you have reference to ? " 
 
 " I shall have to answer that question by throwing the 
 whole responsibility on a special Providence; his final 
 exodus is in the hands of the Almighty, by whose special 
 economy he is here, and for special purposes. These pur- 
 poses are in process of final accomplishment, which we can 
 now begin to see ; and we may very properly suppose that 
 he will pass back to his own native land by the same hand, 
 pari passu. From a human point of observation, the order 
 of nature and progress of society will suggest the proper 
 method of departure. Many would soon die, many remain 
 among us for a great number of years, and many would 
 pass back to the tropics, in the service of some great 
 Evangelical economy. These latitudes of ours have been 
 assigned to the Caucasian races, by the great Creator, even 
 as every race has been assigned to its proper latitude, and we 
 must suppose that He knew His own work better than we. 
 The negro in this latitude is completely abnormal, even 
 while he has improved and prospered ; but this result has 
 only followed, because there was a special economy in it, 
 and because of his protection by the white man: for whose 
 temporary benefit he was placed here, so far as we can 
 absolutely know. The withdrawal of this care of the white 
 man will very soon have the effect of perfectly placing 
 
BLOOM AND BRIER. 399 
 
 this land in the hands of the white man, and restoring the 
 black man to his. The negro has no natural rights in these 
 latitudes: his mission here was labor, and his reward was 
 civilization ; he has performed the one, and is receiving the 
 other. As a trained laborer and civilized man, destiny- 
 points him back to the tropics." 
 
 Several minutes had been consumed by this conversation, 
 a much longer time than Mr. Davis usually consumed with 
 any persons outside of business ; but in this instance he had 
 done so with a marked interest. As he made his last re- 
 marks, Colonel Stafford returned to the side of Miss Sedley, 
 when the President bowed partially, and, thanking Colonel 
 Brandon for the very pleasant interview, passed along. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 " Taciturnity is wise, if men are fools ; but foolish, if they are wise." 
 
 COLONEL BRANDON, you have been the occasion of 
 the most entertaining half-hour that I have spent for 
 many days," said Margaret Sedley, as Mr. Davis walked 
 off. " I was astonished at his letting you draw him out as 
 you did." 
 
 " And you both have been the observed of all observers," 
 said Colonel Stafford. 
 
 " Yes ; the President very highly distinguished us." 
 
 " I don't know," replied Colonel Brandon, laughing; " I 
 think the distinction was at least mutual." 
 
 " Oh, Colonel Brandon ! I had begun to form high hopes 
 of making you quite a courtier, but here you are falling 
 back upon your individuality — your political cynicism. 
 You made great improvement, Colonel, as the interview 
 
400 BLOOM AND BRIER. 
 
 lasted. At first you made me feel chilly ; did you not feel 
 a little so ? " 
 
 "No, miss; if I never have greater cause for chilliness 
 than from any expression of private opinions to Mr. Davis, 
 I shall not only always be in a very genial mood, but re- 
 turn home from this war uninjured. Even had I not been 
 in the array, I should not fear either to ask him questions, 
 or to express opinions, unless I should foolishly do so, to 
 damage the public cause he represents. He is said to be a 
 most excellent gentleman in private life, and much loved 
 by his friends and neighbors for his honorable and gener- 
 ous bearing." 
 
 " Is it really so, Colonel Brandon, that you have never 
 before been introduced to Mr. Davis ? " asked Colonel 
 Stafford. 
 
 " Certainly so; and it was a high piece of finesse on the 
 part of Miss Sedley, that I was, this evening. I did not 
 desire or expect it. I met with him frequently in Mexico, 
 but I was then a very young man, and he has, of course, 
 forgotten me ; since then I have never met with him until 
 to-night. He is unsurpassed for gallantry, and was badly 
 wounded at Buena Vista." 
 
 " Did n't you meet with him while the Confederate Capi- 
 tal was at Montgomery?" 
 
 " No. I should have called on him probably, but men of 
 my style of opinion were not very favorably looked upon, 
 at that time, at Court. I, therefore, did not see proper to 
 compromise myself: I could not have changed him, nor he 
 me." 
 
 " You could have called on him without being expected 
 to proselyte, or to be proselyted." 
 
 " Yes ; but I did not feel greatly pleased with, and chose 
 not to see him." 
 
 " You appeared to agree very well, this evening, Colo- 
 nel. Who has changed ? " said Miss Sedley, quizzically. 
 
BLOOM AND BRIER. 401 
 
 "Oh, certainly; men Avho profess to be gentlemen, and 
 men of sense, can't entirely disagree ; but I was surprised 
 to hear him express himself so freely, liberally, and so phi- 
 losophically. Yet, I don't feel willing to forgiye him for 
 Secession ; he could have stopped it, and ought to have 
 done it. He knew better." 
 
 " And yet. Colonel Brandon, Mr. Davis only presides 
 over it, while you are fighting the only Government you 
 recognize, for it." 
 
 " Yes, but you know my reasons — if they can be digni- 
 fied as such. If I had my way, there should not be another 
 gun fired. It caji be settled, and should be ; one side is as 
 wrong as the other. The time had not come for separa- 
 tion, and it cannot be done ; it may at some future time, 
 and I expect it will, even into more than two separate gov- 
 ernments." 
 
 " What would be your plan, Colonel, for stopping the 
 war?" 
 
 " Negotiation. Have the Confederate Congress to ap- 
 point Commissioners to meet others from the United States. 
 The South can lose nothing by negotiation. The soiled 
 helmets and battered shields of the Federal army are 
 eternal records of Southern chivalry. Propositions of peace, 
 so far from degrading, would only elevate us. Now, I 
 am no political sentimentalist, and feel nothing of this tom- 
 foolery called patriotism. I will love any flag that can 
 protect me, and hate any that cannot; and I like that of 
 the United States far less than I did, simply because it 
 could not come, and has never yet been able to come, to my 
 relief. It yet has more power than that of the Confederacy, 
 and that is the ground of my preference : for every other, 
 I prefer the one I am at present under ; this must fail — I 
 therefore, have but little love for it." 
 
 A short pause ensuing in the conversation, Colonel Staf- 
 ford remarked that he >Yas a little surprised at seeing Mr. 
 34* 
 
402 BLOOM AND BRIER. 
 
 Davis depart from his reputed austerity so far as to enter 
 upon so familiar and easy a conversation, as that with Col- 
 onel Brandon and Miss Sedley. 
 
 " He was in courtesy obliged to, after seeking it with us ; 
 but, Miss Margaret, I am indebted to you for whatever of 
 distinction there is in his unusual course, as you were evi- 
 dently the first attraction." 
 
 " Ah, you do yourself injustice, Colonel Brandon, for cer- 
 tainly, the glow^-worm brightness of a weak girl could not 
 have been so attractive as the dashing deeds and dazzling 
 insignia of Mars. No, sir, the honor, whatever it is, belongs 
 to the gallantry of the soldier — I may possibly have been 
 the pretext." 
 
 " Well, Miss Margaret ; to your part, be it as humble as 
 it may, I owe the effect of being disabused of some mis- 
 apprehension, or prejudice, in regard to Mr. Davis, which 
 may possibly be of benefit to one or the other of us at a 
 future day. The destiny of some persons is to be — and a 
 lovely one it is — that of developing good in others. 
 Passive as it may appear to be, the capacity or gift, is a 
 rare one, and of the highest value. Shakspeare had the 
 idea of it in his mind, when he makes poor old Jack Fal- 
 staflT say, that he was the cause of wit in others." 
 
 " Thank you. Colonel, for your implied compliment : to 
 be an agency of good would bring me great pleasure ; but 
 as I cannot realize it, shall for the present plume myself 
 upon your assertion, and enjoy the satisfaction of having 
 even been the passive source of a better understanding 
 between two such distinguished persons." 
 
 At this moment, Mr. and Mrs. Bay came up to them, 
 when the former said : 
 
 " Well, Brandon ; I believe every one in the room this 
 evening was attracted to the meeting and long conversation 
 between yourself and the President, and we are all now to 
 look for peace with great confidence, on the score of the 
 
BLOOM AND BRIER. 403 
 
 promise that there shall be universal amnesty, when the 
 lion lies down with the lamb." 
 
 " Ah ! has that remote promise come up for realization? 
 But who the lion and who the lamb ? " 
 
 " That subject presented some difficulty of solution," said 
 ^Ir. Ray ; " but I believe every one gave you the advantage 
 of position, and let Mr. Davis be the lamb." 
 
 "Yes," said Brandon, with a laugh, "quite the advan- 
 tage. It appears to be known then, that we have differed." 
 
 " Certainly ; you are known to be opposed to the Con- 
 federacy, yet fight for it, while you quarrel, with all the 
 peerless gallantry of a knight in the days of chivalry," 
 added Mrs. Ray. 
 
 "Thank you, madam; and I am obliged, too, to my 
 friends for this flattering opinion. I really do believe we 
 are nearer a peace than is generally apprehended ; but 
 whether in the shape that either Mr. Davis or myself would 
 desire, is another question." 
 
 " Has n't the long interview between you and the Presi- 
 dent quieted your fears on that head, Brandon ? " asked 
 Mr. Ray. 
 
 " Not at all ; his confidence has rather increased them ; 
 but we were not endeavoring to convince each other of 
 error; and in many things came quite nigh agreeing — in 
 feeling, if not in opinion. If the Congressional pressure 
 upon him was less than it is, a rather more sensible course 
 than has of late been pursued, might be hoped for. So 
 much for a people sending weak men to make laws. In 
 our instance, it would be better to let the conscript officer 
 have the whole Congress. Indeed, a Confederate Congress 
 is — but never mind. AVith a Congress, the Confederacy 
 will fall, and everything we have be swept from us. With- 
 out it, it may stand. We want neither Congress nor Con- 
 stitution, but vide^^potism — One Man, men and munitions 
 — these are all that any civil war requires." 
 
404 BLOOM AND BRIEE. 
 
 "You can't help your sarcasm, Brandon; but we shall 
 have to allow it to you, as you hold the strong position of 
 the evening. We cannot attack you while under executive 
 protection," said Mr. Ray, good-naturedly. 
 
 "I beg pardon, Ray ; as I assure you I had no personal 
 allusion whatever," replied Brandon, laughing. 
 
 It had now grown quite late, and the company had begun 
 to leave. Colonel Brandon and Colonel Staflbrd seeing 
 the President near, walked up and bid him good evening. 
 Mr. Davis thanked Brandon for his presence that evening, 
 and assured him that it would always be a pleasure to meet 
 him, whenever the duties of either would allow it, and 
 turning to Colonel Stafford, said : 
 
 " Betwixt you and I, Colonel Stafford, there is already 
 no ceremony." 
 
 The two officers then returned to the ladies, and bidding 
 them good evening, left for their quarters. 
 
 Not a great while after this, the President "trod" alone 
 the " mansion halls deserted." Many had been there that 
 evening with gay hearts and high hopes, who never met 
 there again. The bright lamps of the levee proved to be 
 " the dead lights " of life to them. 
 
 CHAPTER Xy. 
 
 "High-stomached are they both, and full of ire; 
 In rage, deaf as the Sea, hasty as Fire." 
 
 IN July, 1863, according to the policy which was then 
 popular at the Confederate capital, of invading the 
 " enemy's country," General Lee, en route for Washing- 
 ton, was encamped near Gettysburg, Pennsylvania, having 
 halted his forces at the immediate point, until he should 
 
BLOOM AND BRIER. 405 
 
 receive reliable information of the position and strength 
 of the Federal army from General Stuart, the distinguished 
 and favorite cavalry officer of the army of Virginia. In 
 this instance he failed of his usual success in coming up 
 to time, -which proved the loss of the campaign to the 
 Southern army. 
 
 General Lee, in waiting, gave the Federal General time 
 to occupy the almost impregnable heights and mountain 
 ranges of the region in his front, with an army vastly- 
 superior in numbers, equipments, and munitions. There 
 were routes by which General Lee could have avoided the 
 battle at that point, and drawn' the enemy from his position, 
 and, considering the animus of his men, have made a success- 
 ful march on Washington ; but he did not — such is fate. 
 This is supposition ; but as we are not discussing the mili- 
 tary aspects of campaigns, we have merely borrowed the 
 assertion, from what has since been said to be the fact ; 
 suflBce it. General Lee moved up to the enemy, and fought 
 the battle of Gettysburg. 
 
 It is said by those who participated in the leading battles 
 of the army of Virginia, that the battle of Gettysburg was 
 fought under tenfold greater disadvantages than any one 
 of the great pitched battles of the war, and with more dis- 
 tinguished heroism on the part of both men and officers. 
 
 The inequalities of position and numbers were as great 
 as the enemy could desire, to secure a most overwhelming 
 defeat of the Confederate array ; all of which did result in 
 a most disastrous mortuary list of officers, as well as men, 
 on the Southern side — and loss of the battle. It was here 
 that the Confederacy received its first fatal blow. The 
 grand old army of Virginia, here lost its brilliant prestige 
 of victory, and though it afterward fought some of the 
 most terrible battles of the war, with the same undaunted 
 chivalry as of old, its strength was too far gone to even 
 hold a victory which it had won. Yet there were but few, 
 
406 BLOOM AXD BRIER. 
 
 or none, of our leading men, whose penetration or prejudice 
 allowed them to see this palpable, glaring fact. As a con- 
 sequence, the South was driven along to the extremest point 
 of vital action ; and on the day of her final fall, and even 
 when degradation came, it was rather a relief than a shock 
 — she had already done all it was in mortal power to do. 
 
 There was a rude but sombre romance in the rocky cliffs 
 and mountains around Gettysburg, that made it an appro- 
 priate place for the echoing thunders, and terrible carnage 
 of war — for the solemn death-knell of a great revolution, 
 the fall of a gallant army, and the ruin of a brave and 
 injured people. 
 
 The last day of the battle has been spoken of as the great 
 artillery duel of the war, in which men were not so much 
 thrown on each other in individual strife, where passions 
 become excited to the point of fierce brutality ; but of a 
 magnificent contest of arms, carried on with great guns, 
 by regiments, brigades, cohorts, and divisions, at that dis- 
 tance apart, which forbade all personal anger. Outside the 
 desperate charges made to dislodge the enemy, men and 
 officers stood to their places and their pieces, and mutually 
 sent into the ranks of each other, missiles of death by the 
 myriad, and received them too, as quietly as at a council 
 of peace ; and met death as calmly as men going simply 
 to rest. 
 
 As an officer or private fell, either wounded or in death, 
 he was immediately carried back, and his place in a mo- 
 ment supplied, while the event itself scarce attracted a 
 word, a sigh, or even a glance from his comrades. 
 
 The night which followed the last disastrous day, was 
 in full character with the scenes over which it hovered. 
 Alternate clouds, and showers, and moonlight, variegated 
 its progressing hours. The Confederate forces had fallen 
 back, and the gray old rocks were left again to their repose, 
 and to the gloomy grandeur of their countless ages. There 
 
BLOOM AND BRIER. 407 
 
 was no change in them ! no sorrow, no sympathy, no tears, 
 and yet no joy! — all was as it had ever been, sombre, 
 serene, insensate, and eternal! 
 
 But there was an offering there, suitable for those great, 
 old high -priests of nature to bring to the gods; and the 
 fitness of it appeased all past and coming centuries. The 
 altars now will burn forever with quenchless fires, lighted 
 up by the human life, and fed by the libations from human 
 hearts ! On their sacrificial ledges lay the heroes of a far- 
 off Southern land, taking a soldier's rest, on these moun- 
 tains of the North. The wounds had ceased their bleed- 
 ing, life's swelling, gushing passions had passed away, and 
 left the manly forms in their calm repose and peacefulness, 
 once more, the images of their God. 
 
 On the craggy heights, Yankees as they were, many a noble 
 form with hero hearts, now in their throbbings hushed, lay 
 stiff and stark in death's last, cold embrace — worthier, too, 
 of a better fate than that they found, in trying to degrade 
 their Southern brothers. 
 
 Throughout the day there appeared periodic lulls, in the 
 great resounding thunders of artillery, as the rumbling 
 echoes floated off on the sweeping winds and died away to 
 silence. The very spirits of the old mountains seemed to 
 demand these respites from the reeking fumes of human 
 havoc, to enjoy the hoarse answering shouts of their distant 
 caverns and their chasms. But ever and anon, they rose 
 again to higher diapasons of death and woe, as if the very 
 giants of the universe were at war against each other, and 
 hurling great continents from their base. These undula- 
 tions marked the lulling and the rage of battle — now 
 sinking to the repose of peace, then rising again to the rush 
 and the roar of the unbridled tempest, and the vibrations 
 of the earthquake. In such moments as the last, men like 
 leaves in autumn fell — fell to rise no more! 
 
 Just before the nightfall of this awful day, there came 
 
408 BLOOM AND BRIER. 
 
 the sounds of a remarked rise in this storm of death, from 
 the Federal breastworks, which bore upon the Confederate 
 lines in that part of the field which 'vvas occupied by the 
 regiment of Colonel Brandon, when, almost at the same 
 moment, that gallant officer, and his no less gallant young 
 lieutenant, Campbell, fell mortally wounded. 
 
 Thus, on the wild mountains of Gettysburg, without an 
 instant of pain, the rather eccentric and chivalric Henry 
 Brandon closed his mixed life of joyousness, love, grief, bit- 
 terness, regret, and happiness ; and there, too, the gay and 
 handsome young soldier. Lieutenant McK., as he was famil- 
 iarly and lovingly called by his men and comrades, closed 
 his eyes upon the bright picture of love and hope, the dia- 
 gram of which his joyous heart had drawn, to be filled at a 
 future day by the beautiful girl who claimed his homage in 
 the distant South. They were both immediately carried to 
 the rear, but in the hurry of changing position and falling 
 back, they were left on the field ; and thus, they who had 
 been nurtured in the lap of ease and wealth, with every 
 ill closely watched and provided for, w^ere now silent and 
 alone, with no watchers near, but the dying and the dead ! 
 Side by side, where their comrades had left them, two gal- 
 lant soldiers lay — with their softly, half-closed eyes still 
 lingering, as it were, in changeless vision, toward their 
 Southern home ! 
 
 Sorrowing nature had seemed to pay the tribute of its 
 grief to heroic worth, in spangling their parted, fallen locks 
 with the jewelled tear-drops of the morning mists, and they, 
 reflecting back to heaven the glancing moon's pale, cold 
 ray, as she now and then peered from the passing midnight 
 cloud, reported there, two noble soldiers lying upon the field 
 of battle in normal state! And then, too, the countless 
 stars, glimmering coldly on the skies, told of the weeping 
 angels beyond — of the ruined homes, and the fatherless 
 ones, made in the South that day ! 
 
BLOOM AND BRIER. 409 
 
 Hold ! sexton of the North ! Strike your shovel softly 
 now — two brother soldiers lie beneath that turf Soldiers 
 of the South taking their hero-rest! Ay, handle them 
 gently now! Let them sleep! No slab is needed there! 
 History hath already written their memorial; the wild-rose 
 marks the spot, and angels keep vigils over their silent 
 slumbers ! 
 
 There was a mother that night, who sat in her lonely 
 Southern home, with her children at her knees, speaking 
 with an aching heart, but with affected cheerfulness, of 
 him who was lying under the cold moonlight of the North, 
 "sleeping the sleep that knows no waking," and was never 
 again to cheer that home with his happy face, and gentle 
 smile. 
 
 We will not disturb the sacred grief of that stricken 
 home, by attempting to describe the scenes that ensued upon 
 the reception of this sad intelligence. Sorrow had then, 
 and since, become too familiar to our people to render its 
 details either a novel, or pleasing subject. Poverty, dejec- 
 tion, political degradation, is the lot universal in the South. 
 AVe may now leave the families of General Campbell, and 
 Colonel Brandon, to their own individual sorrows. 
 
 Other characters with whom we have become familiar in 
 the course of this skeleton-drawing of scenes in Southern life, 
 at the different periods which they are intended to repre- 
 sent, may easily be imagined to have, more or less, partaken 
 of the common lot. But one other there is of whom we 
 must speak, and we have done with our story; and we do 
 it in justice to a faithful creature who was one of a once 
 faithful race, now— anything else. 
 
 It has been seen that Colonel Brandon had been attended 
 in the army by his faithful friend, and body-servant from 
 boyhood, " Sam Brandon." On the last day of the battle, 
 he had been ordered further to the rear, in company with 
 the baggage-train; but learning the fate of his master on 
 
410 BLOOM AND BPwIER. 
 
 the return of the regiment that night, he immediately went 
 in search of the litter-bearers, and engaged them to go 
 through the lines with him, as they knew the spot at which 
 he was left. About midnight they found the body of Col- 
 onel Brandon, and promised to assist " Sam" in getting it 
 through ; but rage and despair seemed to have taken pos- 
 session of the faithful negro, and he would consent to 
 nothing; fearing to remain longer, they left him. "Sam," 
 all alone, knelt down by his friend and master, as he lay 
 in the quiet repose of death, with the waning mountain 
 moon, and the pale summer-night stars keeping the silent 
 vigils of his sweet repose, and indulged in the deep, pas- 
 sionate sobbings of heart-stricken grief "Oh, my poor 
 master! " said he, "can't you speak one word to your own 
 old nigger, SSam Brandon?' Oh, speak, speak to me, my 
 dear master, and tell me something to do for you ! " Occa- 
 sionally smoothing back the matted hair from his broad, 
 full brow, and feeling the marble-like chill of death upon 
 it, would again burst out in renewed expressions of grief — 
 "Oh, sir! will you never be warm to this ole hand agin? 
 Can't I never go wid you — be wid you — nuss you, and 
 talk to you no mo ? Oh, what v.'ill cum of your po ole 
 Sam ! What is to cum of my po, good mistis away doAvn 
 home, an' her little childern, too ! Oh, better for every 
 nigger in the wide worl', be a slave as he orter be, an' for 
 every mean Yankee in these ole mountains to be dead an' 
 stinkin, than for my po master to be in this here fix ! Oh, 
 speak ! speak to me, Mass Henry ! say sumthin ! I shill die 
 right here ef you don't ! My po good mistis will say I took 
 no care ov you ; it orter to be yo ole Sam, not you. Mass 
 Henry!" 
 
 Continuing this strain of uncontrolled lamentation till 
 the very dawn of day, he was espied by a distant retiring 
 sentinel, who came up to ascertain the cause of the strange 
 exhibition, and asked him " what he meant," Up to this 
 
BLOOM AND BRIER. 411 
 
 moment, " Sam " had not even lieard his approach, but with 
 the words reaching his ear, he rose from tiie side of the 
 dead body, with the quick fierceness of a tiger disturbed in 
 his lair, and, in an instant, drawing his side-knife, grasped 
 the unsuspecting soldier by the throat, and drove it to his 
 heart. "That's what I meant, sir, and take it, and take it 
 agin!" driving the knife deeper and deeper into his body 
 with every word; tlien hurling him, with only a negro's 
 power, as far as possible from him, said — "go to hell, and 
 tell 'em Colonel Henry Brandon's boy, 'Sam Brandon,' 
 sent you dar ! " Then wiping the blade quickly, drove it 
 deep into his own heart, and fell at his master's side, say- 
 ing, " I am wid you, ^lass Henry ; what mus' I do for you ? 
 I dun him right," and expired. 
 
 They were never brought home, and we suppose lie 
 together still ; and there they should ever remain, as an evi- 
 dence on their own soil, of Northern slander against South- 
 ern masters. " Sam Brandon" was one of that race, whose 
 many noble, social traits have been more than destroyed 
 by Puritan philanthropy ; and returned to heathenism, to 
 infamy, to aggression, to treachery, and to a hate of him who 
 alone had cultivated and brought him out from darkness. 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 '•'What though the field be lost? 
 All 13 not lost." 
 
 THE entire incidents of the war are too recent not to be 
 familiar to all intelligent readers, and we have only 
 touched upon them to illustrate some of the traits of South- 
 ern character; nor in anything we have said, have we 
 aspired to accuracy of detail — we only pretend to have 
 a&serted leading facts. 
 
412 BLOOM AND BRIER. 
 
 Its real history, both in regard to facts and to the phil- 
 osophic reasons at its base, will be written at some future 
 day, by a pen with a golden light to illumine its traces, 
 when the world wnll be better prepared than now to weigh 
 the great equities which it assuredly possessed ; even while 
 the political principle upon which they depended who 
 declared it, may be condemned, as incompatible with those 
 which necessarily underlie all government, cohesion, indi- 
 visibility, authority ! 
 
 The martial glory of the army of Virginia culminated 
 at Gettysburg — its power was shadowed by the result; and 
 though it subsequently displayed its accustomed gallantry 
 in several of the most sanguinary battles of the war, yet 
 they were but sanguinary, and only pictured martial des- 
 peration ; its cause was falling, even its victories were not 
 followed by recuperation. It waned, and continued to wane 
 in strength, till the last and saddest scene of all, at Appo- 
 mattox Court-house, where its glory darkened forever ! 
 
 Here, a few thousand of that once gallant army, who 
 had waved the " Bonny Blue Flag " in triumph over the 
 countless hosts of the enemy, on many of the most ter- 
 rific fields of modern warfare; and had sung victori- 
 ously the sweet little song commemorative of its honor, 
 now in a state of actual starvation — hushed the song, 
 stacked their arms to the conqueror, and left forever the 
 scenes of their early renown, and their future immor- 
 tality. 
 
 General Hood, after the fall of Atlanta, had gathered up 
 the wretched remnants of Johnston's forces, and in the des- 
 peration of the time, set out on an invasion of the State of 
 Tennessee ; and with these starved and naked troops fought 
 one of the bloodiest battles of the war, at Franklin, win- 
 ning for himself and men one of the brightest chaplets 
 of martial honor that had yet crowned a Southern soldier's 
 brow, during the whole four years of splendid, tragic folly. 
 
BLOOM AND BRIER. 413 
 
 Moving thence upon Xashville, he there annihilated his 
 army ! Thus ended the career of those whose peerless gal- 
 lantry in every pitched battle of this bloody, four -years 
 struggle, had won a renown which neither malice, nor time, 
 nor result, can obscure : their deeds, their fame, and their 
 fate, belong to the blazing glories of history, and its faith- 
 ful muse will preserve them forever ! The genius, too, of 
 " Wild Romance " will weave the brightest garlands from 
 their names and knighthood ; and Song will send legends 
 of their chivalry adown the current of ages, in the weird 
 rapture of its notes, and the heroic measures of its flowing 
 verse! 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 "They practised falsehood under saintly show, 
 Deep malice to conceal." 
 
 THE spring of 1865 was signalized by the final over- 
 throw of the Confederacy, and by the first of June, 
 the proud, the boastful, the defiant, ay, the victorious South ! 
 was wearing, well-set, the galling yoke of subjugation, with 
 the Puritan walking triumphantly through the land, and 
 marking his way by a subversion of all the foundations 
 upon which her society, her civilization, her wealth, and 
 her imperiality, had ever reposed. 
 
 Anarchy, chaos, idleness, dissoluteness, and debauchery, 
 followed upon his march ; but these were to him the sign, 
 evidence, and emblem of his sway and authority, and sweet 
 was his enjoyment : his want of true game and chivalry 
 was to him the impervious shield against the natural shame, 
 of having so long been engaged in the effort to place his 
 foot upon the neck of the hated South. The past was for- 
 gotten ; it was the present he enjoyed, however he had ob- 
 tained it, 
 35* 
 
414 BLOOM AND BRIER. 
 
 Nor yet did the disruption of the whole framework of 
 Southern society, industry, and order, bring mortification 
 for his want of executive statesmanship ; his pharisaical 
 conceit was an all-sufficient coat of mail to the oxhided- 
 ness of his sentiments and character. 
 
 The Pandemonium scenes, as drawn by Milton, were as 
 the prefiguration of those now in the South — at least, so 
 far as a parallel can be drawn between the pictures of an 
 eternal and a temporal hell. It was the full fruitage of 
 the Harper's Ferry midnight massacre idea, which, we boldly 
 assert, every Puritan who was now trampling on the South, 
 had endorsed ! 
 
 Answer, ye descendants of the pious Pilgrims — ye are 
 in office now, and cannot be afraid — have we charged ye 
 falsely ? 
 
 The Southern country, which had, in the early days of 
 primeval nature, presented pictures both of grandeur and 
 beauty in its landscapes, and which, through all the changes 
 it had undergone while being subjected to the hand of 
 industry, still presented those of an affluent abundance, 
 comfort, and elegance, beyond any country of the earth, 
 had now wellnigh become a waste wilderness. Large ex- 
 tents of territory, which had once delighted the eye of the 
 traveller, the amateur, or the lordly proprietor, with their 
 combined loveliness of scene and industrial luxuriance, 
 had returned to a state of nature, without any of Nature's 
 beauty. Over the broad fields, so far as the eye could 
 reach, there rested an aspect, wild, weird, and strange. 
 That peculiar hollow ring which nature ever has while 
 uninvaded by man, had again resumed its normal note. 
 The happy laborer's merry song no longer rose upon the 
 evening air. No longer was heard the tuneful w^histle, 
 and the long, musical call of the herd-boy, as he wandered 
 in search of his flocks ; and no more were the happy young 
 people mixing in those Arcadian scenes of early joy and 
 
BLOOM AND BRIER. 415 
 
 beauty. All, nil had gone — many , alas ! too many, never 
 to return ! It was as a world deserted ; and well did Na- 
 ture sing its mournful dirge. 
 
 Whither have those people gone? Who wrought this 
 terrible change? Answer again, ye brave and pious Pu- 
 ritans! Was it not your preacher, your charlatan, and 
 your statesman — your robber and your soldier, who did 
 it? Yes! Then remember that turrets and domes mantling 
 and adorning palatial halls have fallen before to-day. Ret- 
 ribution is God's own law — none escape it. 
 
 But the great Strife of modern times no longer flings 
 its banners to the breeze; its wild lightnings have ceased 
 to flash their fires along the bristling ranks of its martial 
 hosts ; its loud thunders have gone back to their caverned 
 homes and their sea-girt fortress walls, and Peace once 
 more waves her white pennons over our Southern homes, 
 and soothes the flaming passions back to rest ; and they 
 who long had worn the red sash and the plume, and rode 
 the foaming steed with silver bit, no longer dash their 
 squadrons into the jaws of death ; but have shown their 
 true character and manliness, by a perfect willingness to 
 abide the future, which they, to some extent, brought upon 
 themselves. And the people, too, have shown a noble 
 energy in striving against the sweeping tendencies of their 
 circumstances and ruined fortunes. All was lost, save 
 honor — nothing was left but the soil ; and men and chil- 
 dren, born to w^ealth, and ease, and elevated station, and 
 wholly unaccustomed to the exposures of a severe tropic 
 sun, have gone to its tillage ; while the drudgeries of tlie 
 household have been undertaken by females, young and old, 
 who, by strength, habit, and constitution, were wholly un- 
 fitted for their performance. Yet, with all these untoward 
 circumstances, our people will rise again to their normal 
 status — Nature meets us, and points the w^ay. Foreign 
 oppression has already done its vrorst. With eflbrt, sym- 
 
416 BLOOM AND BRIER. 
 
 pathy and regard for each other, we soon may shout, " Sic 
 itur ad astra ! " Men who, for four years, stepped to the 
 step of the soldier, by the martial roll of the drum and the 
 shrill music of the fife, while bearing the "Bonny Blue Flag" 
 on to victory over a hundred battle-fields, and stanched 
 their bleeding wounds with its riddled remnants, may fall 
 — have fallen ; but will rise again. The iron-heeled horse- 
 man, who wildly came and trod down the blue-bell on the 
 hill, and bruised the violet in the valley, could not take 
 to himself their fragrance, nor their germ : for still the 
 Southern sun doth gloriously gild the matin sky — still 
 doth ride along in midday splendor, and still descendeth 
 to western deep. Spring still doth come ; and the blue- 
 bell still bloometh upon the hill. The violet again will 
 smile, away do^vn in the sunlit valley ; and the young 
 maidens long will gather them to strew upon the old grass- 
 green graves, in sweetest memory of their brave young 
 lovers, while adorning the breasts of the living with their 
 modest beauty. 
 
 THE END. 
 
:^v^:;^^ 
 
 
c > 
 
 ■ir. 
 
 RARE BOOK 
 COLLECTION 
 
 THE LIBRARY OF THE 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF 
 
 NORTH CAROLINA 
 
 AT 
 
 CHAPEL HILL 
 
 Wilmer 
 
 428