UNIVERSITY OF NOP TH CAROLINA s " — — ( — : BOOK CARD §| 5 Please keep this cord in "2 "» book pocket — * THE LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF NORTH CAROLINA AT CHAPEL HILL ENDOWED BY THE DIALECTIC AND PHILANTHROPIC SOCIETIES PS 1382 1892 MISS BONNYBEL UNIVERSITY OF N.C. AT CHAPEL HILL 00008781598 A NOVEL. BY JOHN xiSTEN COOKE, AUTHOR OF " SURRY OF EAGLE'S NEST," " HILT TO HILT," " MOHUN," "FAIRFAX," "OUT OF THE FOAM," ETC. .H : ai NEW YORK: Copyright, 1892, bt G. IV. Dillingham, Publisher, Successor to G. W. Carleton & Co mdcccxcil CONTENTS Chapter pagb Prologue. 7 L — Flowers of the Forest 17 II. — Flowers of the Court 21 III. — How Blossom fainted, and what followed 26 IV, — A Glimpse of his Excellency Lord Dunmore 28 V. — How his Excellency got the better of a Child 30 YI. — The Great-Gran dson of Pocahontas 38 VII. — Conspiracy 46 VIII.— Vanely 53 IX. — Bonnybel Vane ... 57 X.— " Old Gouty" 65 XL — A May Morning in "14 67 XII. — The Window Panes at Vanely 73 XIII. — How they danced a Minuet de la Cour. 76 XIV. — Which verifies the Proverb, that listeners never hear any good of themselves 81 XV. — Bonnybel looks in a Mirror and laughs 85 XVI.— The News from Boston . 90 XVIL— The Model of a Perfect Lover 95 XVIII. — How Mr. Lindon came to, and went away from Vanely. ... 101 XIX. — Bonnybel Vane to her friend, Mistress Catherine Effingham, at "The Cove," in Gloucester County 109 XX. — How Miss Bonnybel fainted in the Arms of her Cousin. ... 112 XXL — Bonnybel Vane to her Friend, Kate Effingham 121 XXII.— At the "Trysting Tree" 125 XXIII. — St. John makes his Entry into "Richmond Town. 133 XXIV. — In which the Author omits describing the Races 138 ^ XXV. — How Mr. St. John encountered a Stranger, and of what they conversed 141 XXVI. — How the Stranger became an Historian and a Prophet. . . . 151 U XXVII. — How St. John met a Friend in Williamsburg , 159 ^LxXVIIL— The Secret Agent 164 ^ XXIX.— How a Virginia Girl wrote Verses in '74 169 XIV CONTENTS. Chapter page XXX. — How Mr. St. John returned his Commission to Lord Dun- more a 172 XXXI.— The Letter .... 180 XXXIL— What happened at the "Indian Camp" 184 XXXIII. — A Sleeping Beauty 187 XXXIV. — St. John, from his House of "Flower of Hundreds," to his Friend, Tom Alston, at "Moorefield" 192 XXXV.— The Reply. 194 XXXVI.— Blossom 196 XXXVII.— The Woof of Events 198 XXXVIII.— The Fixed Stars of Virginia 206 XXXIX.— How the Stranger's first Prophecy was fulfilled 214 XL. — How his Excellency asked the Name of the Stranger. ..220 XLI. — The Steps and the Base of Lord Botetourt's Statue 225 XLII. — The " Apollo Room," in the Raleigh Tavern — Deus nobis hcBC otia fecit 229 XLIII. — In which a Chariot arrives 233 XLIV.— The Assembly at the Capitol 235 XLV. — The rival Lieutenants of the Guards 237 XLVI.— The Secretary 241 XLVIL— St. John and Lindon , . . . 245 XLVIIL— St. John goes to "Flodden" 252 XLIX. — How Captain Waters fulfilled his Mission 356 L.— The Fugitive 262 LI.— Her only Failing 266 LII. — The Combat: Red and White Roses 269 LIIL — The News reaches Vanely 277 LIV.— Two Hearts 281 LV. — Which commences the Second Portion of the History.. . 284 LVI. — How Captain Waters plucked his Geese* 292 LVII. — Some old Friends : at least the Author hopes so 299 LVIIL— The Second Warning 304 LIX. — How St. John drew his Sword and struck at a Shadow.. 308 LX.— Tom Alston to Henry St. John 314 LXI. — St. John tells how a Spirit entered his Room at Midnight. 318 LXII. — How Mr. Alston traveled all Night, and what followed.. 334 LXIII. — A Broken Heart: Henry St. John to Thomas Alston. . . 34? LXIV. — Henry St. John, Esquire, to Miss Bonnybel Vane, at Vanely, in Prince George 344 LXV. — "How strange 1 I knew a Bonnybel once!" 347 LXVI.— The last Hallucination of St. John 351 LXVII. — How St. John kept his Appointment with the Stranger. 354 CONTENTS. XV Chapter paob LXYIII. — A Virginia Giant ^ 368 LXIX.— On the Banks of Belle Riviere 371 LXX.— The Old Church of St. John's 380 LXXI — Bonnybel's Dream 383 LXXIL— Bonnybel Yane to her Friend, Kate Effingham 381 LXXIIL— The Friends 390 LXXIY.— The Removal of the Powder 397 LXXY. — Williamsburg in Arms and Captain "Waters in Ecstacies 408 LXXYI. — A Meeting of Patriots 417 LXXYII. — A Young Spy 422 LXXYIIT.— General Effingham is carried off by a Chariot 424 LXXIX. — The March of the Hanoverians on Williamsburg. 428 LXXX.— The Meeting at Doncastle's Ordinary 433 LXXXI .— The Robbery of the Coach of the King's Receiver Geoeral 437 LXXXII. — How Lindon left Williamsburg, and whom he conversed with at " Agincourt" 444 LXXXIII. — A Glance at Yanely 451 LXXXIY.— Bonnybel Yane to her Friend, Kate Effingham 453 LXXXY— Lindon Smiles 458 LXXXYI.— The Two Letters 461 LXXXYIL— The Unraveling of the Mesh 466 LXXXYIIL— Fire and Storm 471 LXXXIX.— The End of the Drama 477 XC. — A Summer Day at "Flower of Hundreds" 485 Epilogue 488 Historical Illustrations 491 Digitized by the Internet Archive in 2014 http://archive.org/details/missbonnybelnoveOOcook MISS BONNYBEL CHAPTER I. PLOWEES OF THE FOREST, It is a beautiful May morning, in the year 1774. The sun is shining brightly, the oriole swings to and fro on his lofty spray, and carols to the spring ; the month of flowers has dawned upon the world in all its loveliness, and scattered daisies, violets and buttercups on the green ex- panse of smiling meadows, and along the grassy banks of streams. Two children holding each other by the hand, take then way through a forest stretching to the west of Williams- burg, the old capital of Virginia. They are a boy and a girl, apparently about ten years of age. The boy is a gallant looking urchin, clad in a richly em- broidered roundabout, drab shorts, and gayly colored stock- ings, which disappear in high-quartered s&oes, ornamented with rosettes of ribbon ; his curling hair, framing ruddy cheeks, is surmounted by a little cocked hat with a jaunty feather. The girl's costume is in some points similar. She wears a sort of frock coat, so to speak, of pink " cali- manco," opening in front, and displaying a species of waist* coat, laced across a ruffled stomacher. The frock falls only to the knees, where it is met by white silk stockings, held 18 Miss bonnybel. by velvet garters, ornamented with clocks at the instep, and ending in small high-heeled shoes, with galoshes. Her head, with its bright curls, is protected by a broad-rimmed chip hat, secured with a blue ribbon tied beneath the chin. The boy is gay, mischievous, full of mirth and high spirits. The girl gentle, sedate, with a pensive look in her mild eyos which peer out from a number of stray ringlets. In one hand she carries a checker- work satchel, holding a few books — for they are going to the old field school ; in the other, a nosegay of violets and sweet-briar roses, the gift of her cavalier, who disputes the possession of her hand with the flowers. They soon come in sight of the old field school. It is a log building, with a broad, well barred door, a log for a step, a chimney of rough stone built outside, and heavy oaken shutters on rusty hinges. The rude old building sleeps beneath the lofty oaks very tranquilly ; but from the interior comes a busy hum which indicates the presence of children. The girl looks anxiously toward one of the windows and says: " Oh me, Paul ! See the sun on the shutter ! We're very late, and I'm afraid Uncle Jimmy '11 keep us in !" " Let him !" replies Mr. Paul with great gallantry, " who cares? We've bad a glorious time getting flowers, Blos- som ; and I don't mind being kept in with youP Paul inserts one thumb into the arm-hole of his waist- coat as he speaks, and bestows a devoted look upon his companion. " I don't mind myself," says Blossom, hurrying on, " but you love Prisoner's Base so, Paul ! — and then you came in time : for yonder is your pony tied to the oak, and you'll be kept in, because you came to meet me." "Well, what if I did come?" says Paul, carelessly, "al- though you wouldn't let me carry your satchel. Is Uncle Jimmy to ride roughshod over me for that ? Can't a Vir- MISS BONNYBEL. ginia gentleman get flowers for a lady without being brought to trial ?" And Paul looks proud and indignant. "A lady, Paul !" says Blossom, with a low silvery laugh; " why I'm only a child I" " You're my sweetheart." " Pshaw, Paul ! what a goose you are ! how foolish you do talk !" And Blossom turns away her head, hastening on towarus the school-house. Paul gets before her, however, and in a moment they are standing in presence of Uncle Jimmy Doubleday, an old gentleman with a lengthy coat, huge goggles, splatterdashes, and a gray queue, who presides over a crowd of boys and girls — all rosy cheeks, curls, freckles and health — busy studying at the long desks against the walls. Uncle Jimmy has just inflicted condign punishment upon an urchin who was drawing individuals in a boxing attitude upon his slate — the criminal having been posted in a corner with the slate around his neck, and a huge dunce's cap upon his head. Uncle Jimmy is therefore irate. He sternly de- mands of Paul and Blossom why they are so late. Paul, who still holds his companion's hand, declares, with an easy air, that he is the cause of it: he thought he'd carry Blossom off to get some flowers. " Oh no, Uncle Jimmy !" says Blossom, with a timid look into the old schoolmaster's face, " I was late before, and Paul is not to blame. Papa came home last night, and I love to talk with him so much." ^ At the word papa, Uncle Jimmy seems suddenly molli- fied. "Well, well," he says, looking through his great goggles at the child's face, and trying not to smile, "well, Blossom, you are excused ; you never do wrong purposely, my child ; and for your sake I excuse this youngster. But take care sir !" added Uncle Jimmy, turning with a tremendous frown to the urchin, " take care, in future, Mr. Paul Effingham ! ] MISS BONNYBEL. make the prediction, that the birch destined for you, w growing." And Uncle Jimmy scowled ferociously at Paul, who saun- tered with a jaunty air toward his desk. For Paul was a favorite too. The old pedagogue fell into a reverie, caressed gently Blossom's hair, heaved a sigh, and then awoke. Having vigorously applied the birch to a youngster war had just made his neighbor execute a terrible leap, by sticking r A pin into him, Uncle Jimmy called the next class, and so the old field school went on its way as usual. At last came "play time," and the old schoolmaster closed his books. To his profound astonishment the girls and ur- chins did not move. Uncle Jimmy saw with incredulous stupefaction that they did not snatch their hats with ardor, and rush into the open air. The worthy pedagogue rubbed his eyes. Was he dream- ing? Had he made a mistake and forestalled the hour? No : there was the rustic dial consisting of a nail driven into the window seat, whose shadow, when it ran along a certain line, marked noon ; and now the shadow plainly in- dicated twelve. Instead of rushing out, the boys and girls had gathered around Blossom, and evidently desired to use her favor with the pedagogue to obtain some boon. Blossom seemed to resist ; but the eloquent advocates re- doubled their entreaties, and at last the girl approached the schoolmaster. "If you please, Uncle Jimmy," she said, timidly, "we want you to give us a holiday to-day." "Holiday!" cried Uncle Jimmy, with a horrified expres- sion, " holiday ! On what earthly ground ?" Blossom was a little abashed by the loud exclamation, and faltered. "There, my child — there, Blossom," said Uncle Jimmy, " don't mind my outcry. I'm not a little forest bird like you, that does nothing but cheep and twitter. I growl : don't mind me ; but say why you want a holiday, Can any one explain such an unusual request ?" MISS BONNYBEL. 21 And the pedagogue addressed himself with dignity to the crowd. He had cause to regret the movement. A deafening explanation greeted his appeal, above whose up- roar were heard only the words, " They're coming ! They're coming ! They're coming !" The schoolmaster closed his ears with horror; and then rising to his full height upon the rostrum, extended both his hands in wrath above the youthful orators, and cried — " Cease, ye young bulls of Bashan ! — cease ! Hav you no regard for my ears, unhappy reprobates that you P7e ! Let Blossom speak, and hold your clatter, or I'll birch every mother's son of you !" It seemed that even the little maidens were terrified by this address to the boys. A deep silence followed, and Blossom having again urged the general request, Uncle Jimmy did what he had never for a moment hesitated about — he gave the desired holiday. " Go, go my children," he said, " yes, go and see the vain pageant of a poor mimic royalty ! Tou are not an old fel- low like me ; you are children, and love music, and bells ringing, and fine dresses. Go see how gallant we can be in old Virginia when we — pshaw ! I'm not making an address! Go, children, and come early in the morning." With these words Uncle Jimmy extended his hands pa- ternally, and in a minute and a half the old school-house was deserted. At the same moment the noise of chariots was heard upon the forest road in front of the school-house — the rolling of wheels, and the sound of the hoofs of horses. ~ 22 MISS BONNYBEL. CHAPTER II. FLOWERS OF THE COURT. Paul was hastening, with his arm around Blossom, toward the tree where his pony Shag was tied — the young gentle- man's design being to convey his sweetheart behind him into Williamsburg — when suddenly both stopped, arrested by the appearance of a brilliant cavalcade. It consisted of three richly decorated chariots, eacn arawn by six glossy horses, and followed by plainer vehicles. The drivers and footmen who hung behind were white English servants, as were the numerous outriders. The first equipage contained three ladies — the rest seemed occupied chiefly by gentlemen. As the flock of children ran out to look upon the brilliant spectacle, the head of a young lady was thrust from the window of the foremost coach, and she seemed to be calling the attention of her companions to the children. It was a beautiful face, framed in bright curls, and look- ing very sweet and good-humored. " Isn't she pretty, Paul ?" said Blossom, in a whisper. " Uncommonly," returned Paul, with the air of a connois- seur ; " but look, Blossom, she is beckoning to you !" In fact, the pretty picture of the boy and girl, with their arms around each other, had attracted the attention of the young lady, and taking advantage of a momentary pause, occasioned by a portion of the harness becoming out of place, she had really beckoned to the girl. Blossom approached the chariot, followed by Paul, and looked with timid grace into the face of the young lady, who smiled sweetly, and gave her hand to each. " That is' a school-house, is it not, my dear ?" she said ; " every thing is bright here, and you and all look very happy." " That's because Blossom is so good, ma'am," said Paul politely; "everybody's happy where she is." MISS BONNYBEL, 23 * Blossom," said the lady smiling, " is that your name ?" iC Yes, ma'am," returned the child, " and his is Paul." " Paul ! do you hear, Susan ?" said the young lady, turn- ing one of her companions ; " what pretty names they have in Virginia — Blossom and Paul! and you know we stopped last night at jRoslyn Hall." Then turning to the children, the young lady added : " I wish you would come and see me, Blossom — pud you too, Paul. My name is Augusta Murray, and we &-e going to live in Williamsburg now." As she spoke, the footman again mounted behiiiJJ, having fixed the harness, and the young lady again gave her hand to the children, with a pleased smile. The cavalcade then resumed its way slowly. The flock of children, Blossom and Paul leading, sur- rounded and followed it, as a triumphal escort, and it went thus attended toward the old capital. For many hours the good town of Williamsburg has been in commotion. An immense crowd has assembled, and the waves of the multitude now extend from the college of "William and Mary," past the old magazine, and the " Raleigh" tavern, quite onward to the steps of the capitol, where, around the base of Lord Botetourt's statue, the rest- less and variegated billows seem to break into foam and spray. All classes, all costumes are seen. Plain homespun clothes and rich doublets, gentry and commoners, merchants and factors, and yeomen, and negroes, and a great crowd of students from the college of " William and Mary," who flock in gay groups along the thoroughfares, cracking jokes, like their brethren in all ages. " Duke-of-Gloucester-street" thus represents a jubilant carnival : it is a conglomeration of forms, plain and pictur- esque, old and young, male and female — jesting, laughing, shouting, jostling — awaiting the event of the day. From time to time the crowd moves to and fro unwilling* ly, and as it were under protest ; then rapidly divides itself MISS BOHNYBEL. into parallel columns on each side of the street ; and through this space rolls a chariot, with four glossy horses. It con- tains some old planter in his richest pourpoint, with his wife and daughters blazing in silk and velvet and diamonds ; and the driver is a portly and consequential negro, who, proud of himself, his master, and his position, looks down with aristocratic condescension on the " poor white folks." As the chariot disappears in the direction of the palace of the Governor, some richly clad gallant, mounted upon his gayly-caparisoned thorough-bred, prances by in the same direction ; and if he be handsome he occasions favorable re- marks from the damsels, whose heads are visible in the win- dows above. He is succeeded by some country cart of rude pine board, drawn by a solemn-looking donkey ; and as the old country- man and his wife bounce up and down, the heads at the windows utter jests and laughter — a taste for the grotesque having characterized the maidens of that epoch, as it does the damsels of to-day. With the uproarious crowd mingle members of the House of Burgesses, and many personages who seem to look with a philosophic eye on the carnival. These do not laugh or jest ; they wait ; they seek for the currents of popular opin- ion, and continue to gaze silently. All at once, in the midst of the tumult, a bell is heard, and this is followed by a shout. Then a great undulation takes place in the mass; the waves roll right and left, young girls are precipitated into strangers' arms ; through the open space comes on a troop of horsemen from the direction of the palace — Lord Dun- more's guards, who occupy barracks near at hand. They ride vigorous horses, and are clad in the British uniform, being, indeed, Englishmen. They disappear at the western end of Gloucester street, followed by some mur- murs. The crowd closes after them ; the bells continue to ring ; the windows are more densely crowded \ urchins even MISS BOWNYBEL. 25 mount upon the old Magazine, and clasp the flag-staff bear ing aloft the banner of St. George. A great shout tella that the object of all this excitement has entered the capital. The confusion becomes now like Pandemonium. The heads of young girls are thrust to a dangerous distance from the windows ; handkerchiefs are violently waved by these splendor-loving youthful personages; and the number of damsels, children, and all weaker characters who are pre- cipitated upon alien bosoms is more marked than ever. But the end is accomplished ; the center of tne street is left free. A score of the guards, riding four abreast, precede the cavalcade which we have seen stop a moment near the old field school. As many follow it. The first chariot contains the Countess of Dunmore, wife of his Excellency the Governor, with her daughters the La- dies Susan and Augusta. The second is occupied by Lady Catherine and her broth- ers, the Honorable Alexander and John Murray. The third contains Lord Fincastle, Captain Foy, the pri- vate secretary of his Excellency, and his wife. Captain Foy looks forth calmly on the crowd — his pale, quiet face betrays nothing. But the countess, her daughters and her sons, are plainly gratified by their reception. The young ladies especially, with their rosy and good-humored faces, seem far from in- different to the shouts of welcome which greet them. They look out and smile, and raise their eyes to the fair faces at the windows, or scan the crowd. The crowd looks back amiably. It pays no attention to Lord Fincastle, Captain Foy, or the sons of his Excellency. They are accustomed to lords and honorables, and prefer the smiling faces of the young ladies. Thus the cortege passes along Gloucester street, accom- panied by the crowd which bears it on its way. The bells continue to ring — a band of music in the palace grounds commences an inspiring march — the chariots enter the great 2 26 MISS BONNYBEL. gateway, flanked as now by the two guard-houses — and then the Scottish lindens hide them from the eyes of the multi- tude. Virginia has beheld her last viceregal " entrance."* CHAPTER III. HOW BLOSSOM FAINTED, AND WHAT FOLLOWER The crowd does not at once disperse. It busies itself looking at the chariots, at the fat gentleman on the palace portico, at the musicians who blow away with puffed cheeks. The strident music has a less pleasing effect upon the horses of the troop, who, ranged on each side of the great gate, defend the passage against all but the chariots of the " gentry." The animals move uneasily, threatening every moment to trample on the crowd, and their riders are evidently as ill at ease. This sentiment seems experienced, more than all, by their commander. He is a young man of twenty-four or five, wearing a rich uniform, and a heavy saber. He curbs with a vigorous hand his restive charger ; his dark eyebrows are knit into a heavy frown. More than once his animal has just escaped trampling on gome member of the crowd whose attention is attracted by the efforts he plainly makes to subdue the horse ; but the officer seems ill disposed to furnish an object for popular comment. His patience all at once gives way — anger over- comes him — and striking the animal violently on the head with his gauntleted hand, he mutters something very much like an imprecation. The horse backs, then starts forward under the spuf * Historical Illustrations, No. L Miss bonnybel. ?7 driven violently into his side. At the same instant a cry beneath the very feet of the charger is heard, and the young man sees that a child has fallen under the trampling hoofs. A score of hands are stretched out — as many exclama- tions heard — but the young officer forestalls assistance. He throws himself from the saddle, and raising the figure of the child in his arms, asks anxiously if she is hurt. " No sir — I believe — not," she falters. " I was kittle frightened — I can stand — I think, sir." And Blossom — for it is our little friend of the old field school, separated from Paul by the crowd— Blossom glided from the encircling arm, and placed her feet upon the ground. Had not the young man supported her again, she would have fallen. The frown deepened on his face, and some- thing like a growl issued from his lips. " Go !" he said, turning to the troop with an imperious gesture, " Go ! you are disbanded !" The troopers gladly obeyed. They quickly returned to their barracks through the crowd, which made way for them, one of them leading the young officer's horse. As they disappeared he felt the slender form weigh heavily upon his arm. A sudden pallor diffused itself over Blos- som's countenance ; the long lashes drooped upon the cheek, and the weak head fell like a wounded bird's upon the young man's breast. The child's knees bent beneath her, and she fainted in his arms. A glance told him all, and raising the light figure wholly from the ground, he bore the child quickly beneath the lin- dens into the palace of the Governor. A door was half open at the end of the hall, and perceiv- ing a vessel of water upon a sideboard, he hastened thither and bathed the child's forehead in the cool liquid. A slight tremor now ran through her frame, the color re- turned to her cheeks, and with a deep sigh Blossom opened her eyes. MISS BONNYBEL. " Ah !" exclaimed the officer, drawing a long breath of re* lief, " there 's your color back again, my little girl ! That 's well! You are not hurt, I hope. 'Tis but a poor pageant that ends with injury to a child ; and I 'd much rather re- sign my commission than have it on my conscience !" A species of haughty growl, accompanied by the rustle of ^ilk on the opposite side of the apartment, attracted his at- tention as he spoke, and, turning round, the young officer saw that he was in presence of Lord Dunmore and his household, who had apparently been so much surprised by his entrance as not to have been able either to speak or move. CHAPTER IV. A GLIMPSE OF HIS EXCELLENCY LORD DUNMORE. Lord Dunmore was clad on this occasion with great splendor. His short and somewhat corpulent person had apparently been decorated by his valet with extraordinary care. He wore a full dress — silk stockings, gold embroidered waistcoat, velvet surcoat, also embroidered, a bag wig, and a profusion of ruffles. At his button hole fluttered an order of nobility. The red and somewhat coarse face did not prepossess strangers in his lordship's favor. They seemed to feel that this countenance must needs indicate a scheming and wholly egotistical nature. And it is certain that reliable records establish this view. Lord Dunmore was not proficient even in intrigue. He bungled in the dark paths which he trod, and stumbled. All his plans went ill. No one would rely on him. More than once, when thrown in collision with the growing spirit of liberty in the colonies, and its advocates in the Burgesses, he had essayed to wheedle the members ; MISS BONNYBEL. 2D and tor this purpose had descended, as he conceived, to un- due familiarity. But this manner did not set well upon him. Essentially unreliable an A scheming by nature, he could not conceal his character, and generally ended by disgusting those whom he desired to conciliate. He was not wanting in those social attentions which his predecessors from the time of Berkeley had found so useful ; but the guest whom he entertained generally went away distrusting his izneary politeness, and doubting the reality and good faith of his Excellency's protestations. Lord Dunmore had little of that urbanity and cordial po- liteness which characterized his amiable predecessor, Francis Fauquier ; he possessed none of the tranquil and well-bred courtesy and ease of the justly popular Lord Botetourt, who had coveted no other title than that of " Virginia gentle- man." In Fauquier the planters of the colony could and did easily pardon a mania for card playing and wine ; they had not the same charity for Lord Dunmore's less amiable weaknesses. While the counties of " Fauquier" and u Bote- tourt" still remain, and will always, the county of "Dun- more" had its name changed unanimously to " Shenan- doah." The people of Virginia at the period brought ugly charges against his Excellency. They said that through his secret agent, Conolly, he was embroiling the Virginians and Penn- sylvanians about the boundary line, to divert attention from the designs of the ministry, and dissipate the increasing spirit of rebellion. They added that he had a league with the savages, whom he tempted to make incursions on the Virginia frontier,* and thus break the opposition to the English Parliament by exhausting the colony's resources. They finally declared that he was a traitor, inasmuch as he attempted to betray Lewis into the hands of the enemy at Point Pleasant. Colonel Bland charged his Excellency with lying ; said he held " lewd and filthy orgies in hie pal * Historical Illustrations, $a XL 30 i MISS HONNYBEL, ace and the events which attended the last months of his residence seem to support this view of his character. His Excellency, indeed, was no favorite with the Virgin- ians, who pardon much if a man possesses refinement and amiability. " Lord Dunmore," says Mr. Wirt, " was not a man of popular manners ; he had nothing of the mildness, the purity, the benevolence, and suavity of his predecessor. On the contrary he is represented as having been rude and offensive ; coarse in his figure, his countenance and his ij'an- ners." That his Excellency was both cruel and cowardly, the events which attended his flight from Williamsburg, and his piratical ravages pn the shores of the Chesapeake, will prove abundantly ; defying all explanation or apology. CHAPTER V. IN WHICH HIS EXCELLENCY GETS THE BETTER OF A CHILD. Lord Dunmore stood motionless in his rich dress, by the window, and neither deigned to bow or speak, when the young officer turned to him. Fauquier would have been at his side with a smile and a welcome. Dunmore stood still and raised his head haughtily. This lofty expression, however, seemed to produce very little effect on the intruder. For some time now he had been accustomed to excellencies and honorables. He placed the child on a settee, and made the ladies a profound bow. "Your Excellency will pardon my unoeremonious en- trance," he said, coolly ; " there was no one to announce me, and this child had fainted." " Your entrance was very natural, and quite pardonable, sir," said Lord Dunmore, with an expression of mingled hauteur and condescension : and then extending his hand MISS BONNYBEL, 31 ceremoniously towards the young man, he added, " Lady Dunmore, permit me to present to you, and my daughters, Mr. St. John, lieutenant of my guards." The officer bowed low again, but it was easy to see from the slight movement of his proud lip that something in the title thus bestowed upon him was displeasing. Lady Dunmore was about to speak, and from the amiable smile upon her countenance, to refer, doubtless, to the pleas- ant reception she had met with, and Mr. St. John's part therein, when his Excellency forestalled such colloquy Vy recalling attention to Blossom. As he looked at the child there was as little evidence of courtesy or amiability as in his address to Mr. St. John, and he said, almost rudely — "Is this young person hurt, sir ? I confess I see no traces of any accident, unless you call lassitude an accident." Mr. St. John's brow clouded more and more ; for under the circumstances of the case, the tone of Lord Dunmore was as much an insult to himself as to the child ; and the young man did not seem to have been habituated to insult. Before he could reply, however, the Governor turned away from him to Blossom, and said, in the same careless and rude tone : " What happened to you ?" "I fainted, sir," murmured the child, frightened at the cold face and harsh voice, " in the crowd, sir." "A mere trifle ! Where do you live — in Williamsburg? 5 * " No sir — I came to see the procession, and — " " What ! you had the imprudence to come to town thus ! Your parents show little sense in their government." " Paul was with me," murmured Blossom — " we go to school at Uncle Jimmy's, not far from here, and our house is not so far as that. I think I can walk home now, sir!" And anxious to get away from the forbidding presence of her interlocutor, Blossom rose to her feet, and made a step toward the door. Her strength, however, was unequal to MISS SONNYBEL, the exertion, and she sank down again with an expression of pain. Mr. St. John, whose brow had assumed a darker and darker cloud, as he stood listening to this conversation, would have hastened to her, but he was forestalled by one of the young ladies, who rose quickly, and in a moment was at the child's side. It was the Lady Augusta wh^tLi Blos- som had me* at the old school. "Are you much hurt, Blossom?" she said, kindly ?#<1 softly ; " don't try to walk yet." The child murmured something which was inaudible. " Are you not sick ?" asked the young lady, in the same kind voice. " No ma'am," faltered Blossom. " I'm afraid you are," said the young lady, gazing at the child with tender pity ; " you must let his lordship send you home in his chariot." " In his chariot, ma'am ?" " Certainly." Blossom murmured that she could walk ; she was very much obliged for her kindness ; then the child paused, her voice dying away in her throat. The young lady had looked at her so kindly, and held the small hand so lovingly in her own, that Blossom, in her jveak condition, had been too much affected to speak. " Come, Lady Augusta," said Lord Dunmore, coldly, "let us prepare to receive the guests in the drawing-room. As for this child — " " Yes, yes, your lordship," said the young lady submis- sively and hurriedly, and turning to the child she said : " Where do you live ?" " Just out of town, ma'am." " What is your name ?" " Beatrice, ma'am — but they call me Blossom." "Oh I know," said the young lady, "but your other name ?" "Beatrice Waters, ma'am." MISS BONNYBEL. 33 Lord Dun more, who had turned stiffly away, wLeeled round as he heard this name. " Did you say Waters ?" he asked curtly. " Yes, sir," murmured Blossom. "What Waters?" "Sir ?» " I asked you what was the Christian name of you fa> ther." " Charles, sir — he is Mr. Charles Waters." His Excellency's brow clouded over, and he frowned. " Lady Augusta," he said, " do you know who you are fondling ?" The young lady turned a frightened look upon her father, and murmured some inaudible words. " You are bestowing your caresses upon the daughter of the most dangerous — yes ! the blackest-hearted rebel in this colony! A man," added Lord Dunmore, with growing choler, " who is a firebrand of sedition, and who will swing from the gallows if my authority lasts, and I lay hands on him ! It is his offspring that my daughter, madame, is be- stowing her attentions upon !" His Excellency was mastered by one of those sudden fita of anger to which he was constitutionally subject. His countenance reddened, and became puffed up ; the vein in his forehead was swollen, and his small keen eyes flashed, as he spoke in his tone of disdainful roughness and anger. His family were accustomed to humor him when these fits seized upon him ; and by submitting, to thus divert and dissipate those domestic thunderbolts of his lordship. One person present, however, did not seem to have been trained to this species of deference. Mr. St. John had ap- parently been in an ill-humor all day ; moreover, he seemed to be accustomed, himself, to courtesy at the very least, and the utter want of ceremony on the part of his lordship, added to the unfeeling insults directed toward his younft protegee, produced in Mr. St. John's countenance an ex- pression of impetuous anger and no little disdain. 34 MISS BON^YBEL* "Perhaps your lordship is mistaken in the individual who is this child's father," he now said, with cold courtesy. "Impossible, sir! I'm not mistaken!" replied his Excel- lency, surveying the young man with a look which seemed to ask if he had the presumption to address him in that tone. Mr. St. John's brow darkened more and more. " At least this girl does not resemble a very dangerous rebel," he said, with an imperceptible shade of sarcasm in his voice, which made the Governor's cheek flush with rage. "Mr. St. John!" he said. "Tour Excellency," was the cold reply. " This is a singular colloquy ! Tour meaning, if you please, in reading me a lecture, sir !" "I read no lecture to your lordship," replied the young man, with a haughty look, and without lowering his eyes ; "my meaning simply is, that whatever may be the charac- ter of this child's father — his dangerous character — your lordship can't possibly be afraid of the child herself." For a moment his Excellency's countenance resembled a thunder-cloud from which a flash of lightning was about to dart. The vein in his forehead turned black, and his frame trembled with anger. But his prudence suddenly came to control him ; he seemed to feel the bad policy of a quarrel with Mr. St. John ; and passing from rage to hau- teur, he endeavored to speak in a tone of insulted dignity. "I am not in the habit of entering into debates with young men, sir," he said, "and I must beg that this dis- cussion may here end. I am sorry to say, Mr. St. John, that I find you, like other gentlemen of this colony, inclined to oppose my opinions and wishes, as well as strangely ne- glectful of that ceremony and respect which are due to myself, as a peer of the realm and the representative of his majesty ! I pass over this occasion, sir, and trust that you will perceive the necessity of not holding arguments with me in future, especially in the presence of my family." Miss bonnyp^l. 35 U I did not wish to argue with your lordship ; you ques* doned me — I replied," said the young man, with internal rage, but outwardly as cold as ice. " If any thing which I have said, has wounded the feelings of your lordship's family, I most humbly pray them to pardon me." "Enough, sir," returned the Governor, in no degree mol- lified, if any thing, more haughtily than before ; " the Coun- tess of Dun more and my daughters are not accustomed to have their feelings wounded by everybody ; you may he at rest upon that score, sir. Now let this conversation end." "I ask nothing more!" replied Mr. St. John, flushing with anger and disdain at the tone of the Governor. " I will see that this young person is conveyed home — if the man Waters does not conceal his abode — but I certainly shall not send my chariot and servants to the house of a traitor !" " Your Excellency need put yourself to no trouble — my own carriage is at hand, and I take charge of the child." "Do so, sir; and permit me to congratulate you upon making the friendly acquaintance of a treason-monger ! It is quite in character to allow his helpless daughter to wan- der about unprotected. A traitor makes a heartless father, and a bad man." Before Mr. St. John could speak, another voice was heard — it was Blossom's. The child had listened with pale cheeks, and a frightened look, to the fiery colloquy, and had not dared to open her lips. But now her father was insulted more grossly than before ; his very affection for her was called in question ; the little heart boiled over with pain and anguish ; and clasping her hands Blossom cried : " Oh no, sir! indeed, indeed papa's not bad! He loves me deafly, and he did n't know I came, sir." " Enough of your childish twaddle !" said Dunmore con- temptuously. u I 'm not here to be wearied by it. I '11 make your rebel father whine, too, before I have done with him !" " Oh me - f " sobbed Blossom, * 'piease let me go, sir I id MISS BONNYBEL* 1 do not feel well. I ought not to stay anl hear papa abused." " Go, then !» Blossom rose quickly, with a flood of tears, ana turned to ward the door. But again her strength failed her; she turned deadly pale as her bruised foot touched the carpet, and fell back sobbing. The arms of Mr. St. John received her, and thus standing, with pale face and fiery eyes bent on the Governor, his in- dignation and disdain were imperial. He would have spoken, but his pale lips refused their office. With a single look of defiance at his Excellency, the young man raised the form of the child completely in his arms, and left the apartment and the palace. He passed rapidly with the sobbing girl along the graveled walk beneath the lindens, and issued from the great gate, Without pausing, he strode along Gloucester street, fol- lowed by wondering eyes, and soon reached the Raleigh Tavern. In fifteen minutes a handsome chariot, with four splendid bay horses, stood before the door, and Mr. St. John deposited the child in the vehicle. Her delicate form sunk into the luxurious velvet seat as into a bed of down, and Mr. St. John took his place by her side. He then gave an order tc the negro driver, and the chariot proceeded slowly out of the town in a westerly direction. The young man had made but one allusion to the scene at the palace ; uttered but one word ; that word was — " Vulgarian !" It was Mr. St. John's honest opinion of his Excellency Lord Dunmore. The evening was a lovely one, and the sun had sunk be- yond the belt of forests, leaving the sky rosy and brilliant, and swimming in a gentle mist. The birds sang merrily, and the woodland road unwound itself like a ribbon before them as they penetrated into the leafy depths of the for- est. MISS BONNYBEL. 37 The anger and disdain of Mr. St. John slowly disappeared, and he seemed to enjoy the freshness and innocence of his little companion. At last they reached Blossom's abode. It was a small cottage, fronting south, and had about it an air of home comfort which was very attractive. The tender foliage of May appeared to wreathe the small portico, the drooping eaves, and even the old chimneys ; and a thousand flowers, chiefly early roses, studded the diminutive lawn, and filled the warm air of evening with their fragrance. Blossom had indeed told her companion that the cottage was called " Roseland," and the name was perfectly appro- priate. On the threshold was no less a personage than Mr. Paul, in an attitude of profound despair. He had just returned to the cottage, hoping to find his companion, from whom he had been separated in the crowd, and not finding her was about to go back to the town, he declared, and find her or perish in the attempt. That was happily unnecessary, St. John said, with a smile ; and so, with mutual good will, the young man and the children parted. St. John returned in his chariot to Williamsburg. The town was brilliantly illuminated. From every win- dow along the main thoroughfare lights blazed in honor of his Excellency and his family.* The crowd of revelers was greater than ever, and the palace of the Governor was one mass of light — more especially the great drawing-room, where, under the globe lamps, and fronting the portraits of the king and queen, the amiable countess, supported by her daughters, received the congratulations of the gentry of the colony upon her reunion with his Excellency. Dismissing his chariot, Mr. St. John went and gazed for some moments at the brilliant front of the palace. " The silly masquerade may go on its way without my assistance," he muttered, coldly. "I'll not go there and bow and simper when his lordship's put a slight on me — • * Historical Illustrations, No. IIL 38 MISS BONNYBEL* insulted me ! Hang him ! let the rest pay him their re spelts — I won't, and there 's an end on 5 t." With these words Mr. St. John retraced his steps to the Raleigh Tavern, and sitting down, demanded a bottle of wine and some biscuits. Having finished his repast, he went out, passed down Gloucester street, and entered a house, whose second floor he occupied. Throwing himself upon a lounge, he tossed his hat and sword on the floor, and looked through the window " I 'm the only one who do n't illuminate," he said. " Well so let it be." And leaning back, he closed his eyes — meditated, and from meditation glided into sleep. CHAPTER VI. THE GREAT GRANDSON OF POCAHONTAS. Henry St. John was the only son of Colonel John St. John, of " Flower of Hundreds," in the county of Prince George. This John was himself the only son of Henry St. John, Esquire, called " King Harry," who having run through a fine estate in Hertfordshire, England, came to Virginia about the time of Bacon's rebellion, in which he took part against the government, but, by good luck, es- caped with the payment of a heavy fine. He married, the second time — his first wife, who was a Miss Pendleton, hav- ing died without issue — Miss Virginia Rolfe, daughter of Thomas Rolfe, Esquire, the only son of Pocahontas, daughter of Powhatan, King of Virginia, whose empire stretched from Florida to the great lakes, and from the Atlantic to the Mississippi. The Mr. Henry St. John of our narrative was, therefore, the lineal descendant of Pocahontas. "We have little genius or fondness for the details of pedi MISS BONNY BEL. gree, bat surely 't is a source of noble pride to be descended from our dear Virginia maiden. Royalty and nobility are but vulgar things, and the boast of Norman blood is but the child's fondness for the rattle of a toy. The giace of the fashion of it perisheth — its glorious beauty is a fading flower — only the shadow of a shadow stays. It is different in the case of the descendants of our little queen of the West. Her patent of nobility was won beneath the war club raised above the head of a poor captive ; her royalty was the royalty of a noble heart, of a great and pure devo- tion to the cause of love and mercy. So writes the good author of these manuscripts. Let ua pass, however, to the young gentleman who had in his veins the blood of this new Indian royalty. As he sleeps, in the flood of light from the tall silver can- dlesticks, it is not difficult to fancy, from the wild grace of his attitude, and the character of his face, that something of his origin reveals itself. The face is a handsome one, with a clear brown tint, al- most that of a brunette, and the hair is dark and waving. The rounded and prominent chin indicates resolution, and the curve of the lips, which possess great mobility, as plainly show that the young man is subject to strong passions. In the scene with the Governor we have observed the quick shades of anger and resentment only ; but now this has quite disappeared, and, sleeping like a placid infant, all the fea- tures of the face have subsided into softness and repose. In his dreams the young man smiles, and the smile is one of great sweetness. Leaving to the course of the narrative any further indi- cations of Mr. Henry St. John's peculiarities, we proceed to relate that, at the end of an hour, he was waked by a knock at the door, which was followed by the entrance of a young man clad in the height of the fashion. Indeed, it might almost be said that this young gentleman's costume was one mass of lace and embroidery. The drop curls of bis flaxen peruke were glossy with perfumed powder, a 40 MISS BONNYBEL. little dress sword just lifted up the skirt of his richly deco- rated pourpoint of Mecklenburg silk, and his aristocratic hands were covered with the finest point de Venise. Mr. Tom Alston — for that was the name of the worthy — pre- sented a mixture of the fop and the philosopher in his dress and manner, and seemed to have stepped carelessly from the frame of one of Vandyke's pictures. He extended two fingers to his friend and sat down. " Not sleeping, Harry, my boy ?" he said. " Why not at the Governor's ?" " I preferred staying away. Did you go ?" " Yes — a crowd of nice girls, and refreshments of a pleas- ing description." "Very well — but I don't regret my absence," said Mr. St. John ; " the fact is, Tom, I 'm tired of his lordship, and think I'll resign my commission. I 'm no man's servant, and I won't be his Excellency's." " Eh ? His servant ?» " Yes. I am absolutely nothing more. There, let us leave the subject, or I 'm sure to burst forth into useless expletives.'* " Expletives ?" said Mr. Alston, tranquilly. " Come, tell me all about it. I see that something has occurred, and I 'm really dying to hear a bit of scandal — absolutely none for a whole week. Do proceed, Harry, my boy, and narrate from the beginning, with all the orations, like that tiresome old Thucydides." Mr. St. John was silent for a moment, and then said : " I do n't care if I do, Tom. I feel as if the historic muse would come at my call, and I '11 try her. Well, here goes, but you are not to yawn at my apologue." " By no means," said Mr. Alston, with an air of reproach. " Proceed, my friend." " Well, you must know that there formerly resided in a country called Virginia a young man called Harry St. John. You understand so far ?" 4 Yes,." u Well ? this young man, who had the misfo -tune to loss MISS BONNYBEL. 41 Lis parents in his childhood, was sole heir to an estate called the ' Flower of Hundreds,' upon which estate there was a big old house, full of deer antlers, fine furniture, tall mirrors, portraits of old fellows in periwigs, and dames in odd-look- ing dresses ; and in the stables were as fine a collection of thorough-breds, 't was said, as any in the colony. Every thing else was ample and comfortable, and it was reasonable for the youngster to expect a life of ease and satisfaction — was it not ? He might marry his cousin, grow fat, ^ri-side at the county court, and be a respectable vestry mai of the parish. There were plenty of foxes on his lands, and a quar- relsome neighbor near at hand, with whom he might, at any moment, plunge into a good comfortable lawsuit. In a single word, all the elements of human happiness were at the young fellow's disposal, and he had only to c enter and enjoy,' as the lawyers say." " He was a lucky fellow, my boy. I should like to know him," said Mr. Alston. "As to the luck, there's the question," continued Mr. St. John, "for nature had put a nail in the young man's shoe — restlessness. He longed for something more exciting than plantation life. Having left college, he came into his prop- erty, carefully administered by his excellent uncle, Colonel Vane ; but very soon he began to grow dissatisfied. You see, the couches were too soft, the beds were too large, the wines were too good, and the fields which stretched far away to the horizon from the portico of the old hall, were de- ficient in rugged beauty and picturesqueness, such as the mountains yield. In a word, the youthful heir was tired of the insipidity of farm life, and longed for something like adventure, having a private impression of his own that the clash of swords and the whistling of bullets would make merrier music than the winds in the trees, or the waves lap ping on the banks of the river." "Odd,'- observed Mr. Alston, "but I think I under- stand." "■Well," pi-ore d M , St. John, "this young fellow 42 MISS BONNYBEL. struggled with his passion for two or three yeaic, but at the end of that time his predilection got the better of him. A nobleman came to be Governor of the country he lived in a vulgar fellow named Dunmore." " Oh ! a vulgar fellow do you say ? But proceed, my friend." " You '11 see before I end, if I am wrong in my character ization, Tom," continued Mr. St. John. "Well, as I said, this man, Dunmore, came to the country in question, called Virginia, and a great talk was made about his excellence and greatness. He professed to be most solicitous about Virginia, and turned his attention especially to repelling the attacks of savages upon the western frontier. He said he wished the inhabitants to hold themselves in readiness to march under his command, and as a proof of his intention to act vigorously, he brought with him some foreign sol- diers, who would serve as a nucleus for the proposed forces. Exception was, however, taken by some persons to the presence of this body of men, and in order to allay the dis- quiet, his Excellency sought for a Virginian who should be placed, as it were, in their front rank, to disarm this senti- ment. Here commenced the connection of Mr. St. John with his Excellency. Introduced to him as one of the large landed proprietors of the colony, his Excellency treated him with much politeness, and finally requested private inter- views. Would Mr. St. John accept the commission of lieutenant, commanding, for the present, this nucleus? — they would ere long march to the frontier, and much glory would ensue. Do you understand ?" His friend nodded. " The aforesaid Mr. St. John was then twenty-three or so, and had greater thirst for adventure than ever. Would he accept ? Yes, most willingly. No sooner said than done. He leaves his estate, comes to the capital, establishes himself therein as becomes a soldier, and gloriously parades on horse- back, in fine uniform, at the head of his troops. He enters into military affairs with ardor and enthusiasm — he trains MISS EONNYBEL. 43 his men in quick evolutions, in bush fighting, in rapid dis- charge of pistols, and in approved cut and thrust with the saber. He sees that their arms are as brilliant as silver ; their uniform and entire equipments perfect. He calls on his Excellency every day to inquire for news from the fron- tier, and receiving comforting answers, goes away twirling his mustaches, his sword clanking against his boots, his head full of martial glory, and conscious of the admiration of every urchin who beholds him." " Of none of the girls — eh, my boy ?" inquired Mr. Al- ston. "Doubtless, for you know the gentler sex admire the sol- dier, at least some of them. But to proceed. The young man, you see, is ready, impatient ; but somehow the order to march is delayed, his Excellency's excuses are repeated, the young fellow's assiduity finally seems distasteful. More- over, the troops he commands seem permanently stationed in guard houses, flanking his lordship's gate — they attend solely on his lordship's person — they ride behind his coach, and are called by him, "My Guards." His lordship is a king, the young lieutenant a satrap of the provinces, and, contrary to the habit of Virginians, he has become an upper servant. Can you wonder that the result is distaste upon his part ; that he begins to think his Excellency insincere ? He finally concludes that he is tricked, and it is just at this moment that he receives orders to marshal " My Guards," and go and receive the royal family on their entrance, which event occurred this morning. Well, he obeyed. They were ladies, and he was far from objecting to take part in the pageantry. But he found in this cortege other characters — lords, honorables, captains, drivers, footmen, outriders — it was his place to escort them all. He did do it. He mounted guard at the palace gate even, to keep the ill-bied Virginians at their proper distance. He succeeded. "Well, now for the conclusion. The young soldier rode a spirited horse ; the music of a band annoyed him, the animal became restive 3 and the result was the overthrow of a child, who 44 MTSS BONNYBEL. rolled beneath his feet, and, when the young man raised her, fainted away. He went to the nearest point for some cold water, procured it in the palace, and for presuming to so intrude was insulted by his Excellency. You see his lordship was an English nobleman, and the young man was only a Virginia gentleman. Not only the young man him- self was outraged, but the child who accompanied him was grossly insulted and wounded ! and Mr. Lieutenant St. John was requested to retire and make way for his betters ! Curse me ! if the man 's one particle of a gentleman, and I'll throw his commission back in his face !" cried St. John, flushing, and thus breaking forth with long-gathering indignation. Mr. Alston was silent for some moments, apparently mus- ing tranquilly upon the history to which he had just listened. At last he said : " Throw it back, Harry ! what's the use ? Do n't take the trouble — rather come with me to my house of ' Moorefield,' where I will try and entertain you, though this peruke from Mr. George Lafong's, who calls himself a wigrnaker, is making me silent and melancholy. Come, Harry, my boy, come with me." "No, Tom," said his friend, "I'll tell his lordship my candid opinion of him, if he arrests me the next moment. Hang him ! he sha'n't tread on me, if he is a tyrant !" And Mr. St. John scowled in imagination at Lord Dun- more, with a sincerity that was very striking. " You won't go to Moorefield ?" said Mr. Alston, smiling ; " but that's just the way you always treat me. May I make a second suggestion, however, Harry ? Go to — Vanely." Mr. St. John turned his head quickly, and looked at his friend. As he encountered Mr. Alston's eyes and smile, something almost like a blush diffused itself over his cheek. " Ah ! ah !" said Mr. Alston, laughing, " there's a fine historian ! You make a splendid historic narrative, and you leave out the most striking event in the life of your hero! You carefully forget to mention that this Virginia Achilles had a Briseis — this Hector of Prince George county, a pros- MISS BONNYBEL. 45 pective Andromache — and that the nodding plume of war was put on to flash in the eyes of somebody !" Mr. St. John blushed unmistakably this time, and then burst out laughing. " Well if I did, Tom," he said, " what 's the odds ? She '8 the loveliest girl in the colony." " Perhaps ! But why not go and try your luck, then ?" Mr. St. John sighed. " I 'm afraid it 's no use," he said ; " she loves me, but un- fortunately she's not in love with me." "A profoundly philosophical distinction; but did you never hear the Spanish proverb, ' Patience, and shuffle the cards ?' Now the cards are at 4 Vanely ;' leave this abode of royalty with me, forget his Excellency, and go see Dulcinea." Mr. St. John pondered, and from the varying color of his tell-tale cheek, it was plain what he was thinking of. " Well," he said at last, " I '11 do so, Tom. I '11 follow the advice scratched on the wall yonder, with the odd name, Sir Asinus to it — Q The duty of a subject is submission? Yes, I '11 leave this wretched mimic court, and go to Vanely, pro- vided you stay all night and go with me." "Done," said Mr. Alston, "and now let us have a game of tric-trac." " Willingly," Mr. St. John replied, " and my first stake shall be these tawdry epaulets of gold thread against six- pence — the value I attach to them !" Cards and wine were quickly brought by a servant in waiting, and the young men commenced playing. Two hours afterwards they were sound asleep, and an attentive listener might have heard the lieutenant of his Ex- cellency's guards murmur the name of a woman of whom he seemed to be dreaming. HISS BONNYBEL. CHAPTER VII. CONSPIRACY. We have glanced at the scenes of the day on which, amid the glare of sunlight, and the noisy plaudits of the crowd, the Countess of Dunmore entered grandly the old capital. We shall now pass to the night world ; to a few scenes which concealed themselves beneath the silence and gloom. The lights in the city of Williamsburg had one by one disappeared, as lord and lady, noble and commoner sought their pillows ; all the noises of evening and night had long since died away, and a gloomy silence, only interrupted from time to time by the low muttering of distant thunder, reigned over the ancient town. There was one exception, however, to this total darkness. From the lofty window of a tall mansion which rose like an attenuated ghost above the surrounding roofs, a faint glim- mer, like a star, just dispelled the gloom, and even this much light seemed to escape by accident through the chinks of the carefully closed oaken shutters. Let us ascend the precipitous and winding stair-way of the half-deserted mansion, and opening the door of the turret- like chamber, endeavor to discover what business is thus being transacted under the jealous vail of silence and dark- ness. The apartment is destitute of all ornament, the furniture consisting only of a long table, a few rough chairs, and some shelves filled with old volumes and papers. It has two oc- cupants. The first is a rough-looking man, covered with dust like a courier after a long journey, who is slumbering heavily upon a bear skin thrown down in one corner. The other inmate of the room sits at the table writing rapidly — two loaded pistols lying within reach of his hand. He is a man of middle age, clad in a suit of dark cloth, affording no indication of his character or station. In the MISS BONNYBEL. 47 face and form of this person, however, there is more to at* tract attention. The countenance of the stranger is one of those which,, once seen, haunts the memory. He has not passed middle age, apparently, but the thin brown locks around his broad forehead are sprinkled with gray ; labor or care has furrowed deep lines from temple to temple, and a slight stoop in the neck communicates to the general carriage that air of intense meditation which characterizes profound thinkers, or those upon whom is thrown responsibility of the most critical character. Covered with the pallor of care or exhausting toil, with clear-cut and resolute features, eyes burning with a gloomy flame beneath bushy brows, and lips set sternly with an expression of iron will, every thing in the face of the stranger indicated an organization of the largest strength, and an intellectual vigor which no obstacle could daunt. His thin muscular fingers traversed the paper for an hour without pausing scarcely, and then, as he reached the end, the stranger laid down his pen, and leaned back in his leather chair. " Why, I grow old !" he murmured. " This writing for a day and a night only, begins to fatigue me. 'T is no matter." And without further words he set about folding the writ- ten sheets. They were then enveloped in stout brown pa- per, corded, and securely waxed. Upon this envelope was written simply — " To Mr. Samuel Adams, " At Boston, in the Province of " Massachusetts." A word awoke the sleeper, who rose quickly and stood at the stranger's side. Few words were exchanged ; the two men seemed to understand each other, and the stranger gave his directions in a brief low tone, to which the courier replied by a slight movement of the head only. " This to the town of Baltimore," said the stranger, tak- MISS BONNYBEL. ing a dispatch similar to the one he had just finished — " yoti know the house. This, to Philadelphia — guard it carefully. This, to the port of New York — as quickly as possible. Have you enough money ?" The courier laid his leather purse on the table, and the stranger examined its contents. " >Tis enough, unless your horse fails, but that must not happen. Here is more gold, for which you will sign a re- ceipt." The receipt was written, signed by the courier, and de- posited in a drawer with a number of others. " Go at once now, and proceed cautiously as you leave the town. The patrol is abroad." " Yes, your honor ; never fear me. My service to you, and good times to the cause." The stranger returned the salute, and the courier disap- peared. In a few moments his horse's hoofs were heard as he cautiously proceeded along Gloucester street, and the stranger who watched the retreating shadow from his win- dow, ckew a long breath of satisfaction. " Now for the rest," he said, and leaning against one of the panels of the oaken wainscot, he touched the spring of a secret closet, which flew open. From this aperture he took a bundle of letters, which he placed in his bosom. He then rapidly returned to the table, secured the two pistols in his belt, and throwing a cloak over his shoulders, put out the light, and descended to the* street. The moon was just rising through a bank of threatening clouds, which at one moment obscured the red orb, then swept onward and permitted the fuli light to shine. No wayfarer was visible upon the silent and deserted street, and an expression of satisfaction came again to the features of the stranger. He wrapped his cloak more closely around him, and pass- ing along in the shadow of the houses, stopped, at the end of ten minutes, before a low building, into the basement or rather cellar of which he descended by a flight of precipit- MISS BONNYBEL. 49 ous steps. All was dark, but the stranger proceeded with- out stopping along the damp passage way, and struck quickly thrice, then, after a pause, once again, upon an iron-bound door. A boy opened the door, and he entered. Two men were engaged at a printing table striking off, by means of a " deer's foot" and mallet, copies of a species of circular. Upon one end of the table lay a pile of these printed sheets, still damp, which every moment received a new addition from the cautious labors of the printers. A masonic movement of the head was the sole recognition which passed. To the stranger's brief question of the num- ber of copies printed, the reply was, " two hundred." " That is enough for the present moment," he said ; " fold them securely." This was done rapidly, and with great skill, and in five minutes the stranger stood again in the street. He pro- ceeded, as cautiously as before, on his return to the building from which he had issued, stopping for a moment in the shadow of one of the houses to let two of the Governor's guardsmen in uniform go by. They passed within three feet of the silent figure, jesting roughly, their sabers rattling against their huge horseman's boots. The figures finally disappeared at the corner of Palace street, and the solitary man hastened onward, keeping, as before, in the shadow. He soon reached the tall house from which he had dis- patched the courier to the northern provinces, and, opening a narrow gate, disappeared. Behind the building, in the deep shadow, a horse awaited him, and, mounting, he issued forth and proceeded cautiously in a westerly direction, keep- ing as much as possible in the darkness. He reached in safety the last house of the town, the mut- tering over head nearly drowning the noise of his horse's hoofs, and was about to issue into the country, when, as he came opposite the door of this house, a party of the Gov- ernor's patrol, who had been drinking in the ordinary, chal- lenged him and commanded him to halt. The stranger's 50 MISS BOKNTBEL. reply was the spur in Lis horse's side, which made the animal bound ten feet. A second and louder challenge was instantly followed by the quick report of a carbine, and a ball passed through the horseman's cloak between his side and his bridle hand* With an unconscious movement as rapid as lightning he drew one of his pistols, cocked it, and leveled it, with flashing eyes, at his assailants. He did not discharge it, however ; quickly replacing it in his belt, he muttered, " Useless !" and put spur to his horse. Before a second carbine could be brought to the shoulder, the figures of the stranger and his flying animal had disap- peared like shadows under the gloomy foliage of the great woods. Without checking his horse, and with the air of a man who knows the road as well by night as by day, the stranger went on rapidly, penetrating deeper and deeper into the forest, whose heavy boughs moaned in the wind. At the end of half an hour's rapid riding, he came to a sort of glade in the woods, and as he emerged from the dense shadow the moon burst forth from a black cloud, and poured a flood of yellow light upon the open space. Be- neath a huge oak, a confused mass of men and horses re- vealed itself, and the stranger was challenged a second time. " Good !" he said with satisfaction ; " you are watchful, friend. Wake your comrades ; 't is time for them to be in the saddle." In five minutes as many men were mounted and awaiting silently their directions. The stranger drew from his breast the package which he had taken from the wainscotting. " West Augusta," he said, briefly. One of the horsemen silently rode up and took the dis- patch held out to him. " Frederick," continued the stranger. A second horseman came and took this letter as the othei had done. In the same manner dispatches addressed " Fair- fax," " Orange," " Culpepper," " Westmoreland," " Bote- tourt," "Essex," "Lancaster," "Accomac," and to other coun- tass bonnybel. Si ties, were delivered in turn, one courier having charge of all lying upon his route. The entire province of Virginia, north of the James, was thus apportioned Out to these five men, who seemed to understand perfectly what was expected of them. " Friends," said the stranger, wrapping his cloak around him as he delivered the last dispatch, "I need not tell you to be cautious in the carriage and delivery of these missives. You know their importance, and every day tha times grow more dangerous, the encroachments of the government up- on private rights more daring. I do not conceal that the dispatches you have received contain treason. Carry them to his Excellency Lord Dunmore, and I will hang on Tower Hill, if I 'm taken. You will be rewarded richly, friends. Enough ! let us now go to our work !" And making a salute with his hand, the stranger was sa- luted in turn by the party of men, who, only replying by an indistinct murmur, diverged upon their various routes.* The solitary horseman retraced rapidly the road by which he had come, for the space of a mile ; then taking a bridle- path to the left, he proceeded more slowly. In a quarter of an hour he found himself in front of a small cottage, lost like a leaf in the depths of the woods. On its roof the moon poured a silver flood — the storm had muttered itself away into the distance. He dismounted, opened the door by means of a master- key, and taking a light which was burning upon the table, ascended the stair-case to his chamber. Upon a chair lay a valise, ready prepared for a journey, and as the eye of the stranger fell upon it, his brow relaxed, and an expression of softness which his features seemed in- capable of, communicated to the resolute countenance a sin- gular attraction. Then his head turned unconsciously as it were toward a door leading from the chamber into another, apparently. This door he cautiously opened, and passed through into an adjoining room. * Historical Illustrations, No. IY. 52 MISS BONNTBEL. It was the chamb^ of a girl, full of little feminine orna- ments, and filled, if we may so speak, with an atmosphere of purity and innocence. The indefinable grace of child- hood seemed to pervade the balmy air, half illumined by the soaring moon which poured through the open casement its mellow light, and in the midst of this flood of radiance, a child was sleeping in a little white bed. It was a girl of about ten, with delicate features, long silken lashes, and cheeks tinted with faint roses. The lips smiled in sleep, and possessed great sweetness in curve and expression ; the hair of the child was light brown, and fell in curls upon her white night-dress, and the bare arm which supported her cheek. The fringed counterpane rose and fell gently with the breathing of the little sleeper, and her forehead was bathed in the faint and almost imperceptible dews of slumber. As he gazed at the young creature, the brilliant and fiery eyes of the stranger softened more and more, his stern features relaxed, he murmured softly, "my little Blossom !" and bending over the child, he pressed upon her forehead a kiss of indescribable tenderness. The small frame seemed to thrill even in slumber, and the lips murmured something, but the girl did not awake. The stranger knelt at the bed- side — remained in this devout attitude for a long time — then rising, pressed a second kiss upon the child's lips, and left the apartment. He made a few preparations, and was soon in the saddle, riding rapidly in a southern direction through the moonlit forest. As he went on, his stern features resumed their expression of austere resolution — the fire of his eyes returned — he was iron again. Again his dominant idea possessed him, and he muttered broken words. "Yes!" he said aloud finally, "at last I think the strug- gle comes ! The light of a glorious dawn begins to touch the gloomy east ! The iron heel is almost down upon the forehead, and henceforth there '11 be no appeal to the miser- able justice of the king. The true King of kings, the God MISS BONNYBEL 53 of Battles will decide ! O Lord of Lords, fight for us ! — make us free !" The head raised devoutly, sank again, and the stranger rode on silently, the stillness of the forest only broken by the noise of his horse's hoofs, or the mournful sobbing of the wind. CHAPTER VIII. V A N E L Y . Early on the morning after their colloquy, Mr. St. John and his friend, Tom Alston, had left Williamsburg far in the distance, crossed the river, and were pursuing their way gayly through the spring forest, in the direction of Vanely. Mr. St. John had thrown aside his uniform, and wore a simple but elegant cavalier's suit — a coat of drab silk, pli- able knee breeches of dressed buckskin, and fair-topped boots, fitting closely to the leg and ankle. He rode his fine sorrel "Tallyho," and the animal champed the bit, and tossed his handsome head, with evident satisfaction at the breath of his native air. Mr. Tom Alston prefers a "sulky" for traveling — and mounted in the circular leather chair, high above the wheels of the airy-looking vehicle, he holds, with dainty fingers clad in soft gauntlets, the slender " ribbands," cutting at butterflies occasionally for amusement. The simple landscape seems entertainment enough for Mr. St. John. He looks with joyous eyes upon the smooth road winding along beneath the budding foliage of the forest, and his impulsive nature fills with delight as he inhales the fresh air laden with the perfume of leaves and flowers. He is no longer lieutenant of his Excellency's Body Guards — only Henry St. John. He laughs, leans idly on Tallyho's neck and talks to him, follows the flight of a hawk across the blue sky overhead, or bursts into snatches of song, in 54 MISS BONNYBEL. opposition to the oriole, whose joyous carol fills the wood with music. The young men passed rapidly through the green forest, and at last, as they mounted a slope, Mr. St. John extended his hand and cried, "There's Vanely! See how it shines in the sun, on the hill top ! The oaks are huger to my eyes, and the sunshine brighter there ! Adieu, Williamsburg I" cried the young man, rising in his saddle, " and welcome Vanely ! I think 't is a capital exchange 1" And putting spur to his horse, Mr. Harry St. John set forward at full gallop again. " I think I know what makes the sun shine brighter, my youngster," said Mr. Alston, as he followed rapidly ; " there are two violet-colored eyes there. Well, there are two black orbs as handsome !" And Mr. Alston indulged in a private and confidential nod to himself. Soon afterwards they had reached the broad esplanade in front of the house. Vanely was one of those old mansions whose walls still stand in Virginia, the eloquent memorials of other times, and the good old race who filled the past days with so many fes- tivals, and such high revelry. The first brick of the edifice had been laid upon the lap of a baby afterwards known as Colonel Vane, and passed through his tiny fingers. The life of the mansion and the owner thus commenced together. It was a broad, ramb- ling old house, perched on a sort of upland which command- ed a noble landscape of field and river ; and in front of the portal, two great oaks stretched out their gigantic arms, gnarled and ancient, like guardians of the edifice. In these, as in the hundred others, scattered over the undulating lawn, and crowning every knoll, a thousand birds were caroling, and a swarm of swallows darted backward and forward, circling around the stacks of chimneys, and making the air vocal with their merriment. There was about the odd old mansion an indefinable air MISS BONNYBEL. 55 of comfort and repose, and within, these characteristics were equally discernible. The old portraits ranged along the hall in oaken frames, looked serenely down upon tha beholder, and with powdered heads, and lace ruffs, and carefully arranged drapery, seemed to extend a stately and impressive welcome. Sir Arthur Vane, who fought for a much less worthy man at Marston Moor, was there, with his flowing locks, and peaked head, and wide collar of rich Venice lace, covering his broad shoulders ; — and Miss Maria Vane, with towering curls, and jewel-decorated fingers, playing with her lap-dog, smiling meanwhile with that win- ning grace which made her a toast in the days of her kins- man Bolingbroke, and Mr. Addison ; — and more than one tender and delicate child, like violets or snow T -drops, in the midst of these sturdy family trunks, or blooming roses, added a finishing grace to the old walls — that grace which nothing but the forms of children ever give. Deer antlers, guns, an old sword or two, and a dozen London prints of famous race-horses, completed the adornment of the hall ; and from this wide space, the plain oaken stairway ran up, and the various doors opened to the apartments on the ground floor of the mansion. On the May morning we have spoken of, the old house was in its glory ; for the trees were covering themselves densely with fresh green foliage, and the grounds were car- peted with emerald grass, studded with flow 7 ers, waving their delicate heads, and murmuring gently in the soft spring breeze, and the golden sunshine. The oriole swung from she topmost boughs, and poured his flood of song upon the air ; the woodpecker's bright wings flapped from tree to tree ; and a multitude of swamp-sparrows flashed in and out of the foliage and fruit blossoms, or circled joyously around the snowy fringe-trees sparkling in the sunshine From the distant fields and forests the monotonous caw of the crows, winging their slow way through the blue sky, indicated even on the part of these ancient enemies of the cornfield, joyous satisfaction at the incoming of the warm 56 MISS BONNYBEL. season after the loi^ winter ; and a thousand merry robing flew about, with red breasts shaken by melodious chirpings, and brilliant plumage burnished by the sunlight. Every thing was bright with the youthful joy of spring, and as Mr. St. John and his friend dismounted before the old mansion, the very walls upon which the waving shadows of a thousand leaves were thrown seemed smiling, and pre- pared to greet them ; the open portal held imaginary arms of welcome to them. Before this portal stood, — its old form basking pleasantly in the sunshine, — the roomy, low-swung family chariot, with its four long-tailed grays, as ancient, very nearly, as itself, and showing by their well-conditioned forms and glossy manes the results of tranquil, easy living. By their side stood the old white-haired negro driver, time out of mind the family coachman of the Vanes ; and in the person of this worthy African gentleman a similar mode of living was un- • mistakably indicated. Old Cato had evidently little desire to be a censor ; sure of his own high position, and quite easy on the subject of the purity of the family blood, he was plainly satisfied with his lot, and had no desire to change the order of things. In his own opinion he was himself one of the family — a portion of the manor, a character of respect- ability and importance. Old Cato greeted the young gentlemen with familiar but respectful courtesy, and received their cordial shakes of the hand with evident pleasure. The horses even seemed to look for personal greeting, and when the young man passed his hand over their necks, they turned their intelligent heads and whinnied gently in token of recognition. Mr. St. John patted their coats familiarly, and called them by name, and looking up to the old house said, smiling, " Welcome, Vanely ! The month I 've been away seems a whole century. After all, the town is nothing like the country, and no other part of it 's like Vanely !" MISS BONNYBEL. 57 CHAPTER IX. BONNYBEL VANE. The young men entered the familiar old hall and then passed to the comfortable sitting room, where Tom Alston subsided languidly into an easy chair. " Stay here till I return, Tom," said St. John ; "I'm go- ing to salute my respected aunt, and will announce oar ar- rival to anybody else I see." " Give my compliments to Miss Anybody Else,'- said Tom. But his friend did not hear him. He ran out, ascended the broad oaken stair-case, three steps at a time, with the gayety of a boy, and threw open the door of the chamber immemoriably the haunt of good Aunt Mabel. The consequence was a collision with a lovely girl who had been combing her hair, apparently, before the mirror, as the profuse brown curls were hanging down on her bare w T hite shoulders and silken dress, — presenting to the eyes of Mr. Harry St. John a mass of shadowy, waving gold, Vnich charmed him. The girl no sooner caught sight of the young man, or ra- ther found their faces in collision, than she uttered a scream, and crying " Good gracious ! me !" quickly retreated, and slammed the door in his face. St. John burst into a fit of laughter and cried, gayly, " Let me in, Bonny !" " I won't !" cried the girl's voice vivaciously, accom- panied by the sound of a key hastily turned in the lock. Then the following observations ensued, mingled with laughter : " I think you might, Bonny ; I want to see aunt." " She 's not here ! there, sir !" " Why, this is her room." " It is not ! Mamma has moved down stairs. 5 ' 58 MISS BONNYBEL. " Oh ! she has ! But I want to see you, too. I think, after being away so long, you might at least shake hands." " Shake hands ! humph !" said the girl's voice, very ex- pressively. " I think kissing me was quite enough, sir !" " Kissing you !" cried St. John, with well affected sur- prise. "Yes ! you know you did, and it was just like your pre- sumption !" " You astonish me ! Did I kiss you ? If I did it was wholly accidental. But how long will it be before you come down? Pray, make haste!" The girl's smothered laughter was heard. " You do n't deserve it, you odious fellow !" she said, af- ter a pause ; " but wait ! I '11 open in a minute." And at the expiration of the appointed time, the key was turned in the lock, and Miss Bonnybel Vane, for that was her name, opened the door. She had hastily arranged her hair, some curls of which were still falling carelessly, how- ever, on the bare round shoulders. They did not detract from her beauty. " Where in the world did you come from ?" she said, giv- ing him her hand. " You frightened me nearly to death, sir, and you dared to kiss me !" " Did I ? Well, it is not the first time." " Humph !" as before, very expressively. " It was by accident," said St. John, laughing, " and I will make you as many apologies as you wish, to say nothing of as many compliments." " Thank you !" cried the girl, pouting satirically as she made a mock curtsey, " I do n't want any of your compli- ments." " Then you are the first young lady I ever knew who did not." " My Lord Harry is still severe upon our sex, I see — very smart, indeed !" " My Lord Harry! How familiar the foolish old nick- name sounds. I love every thing about old times, thought MISS B0NNYBEL 59 " Do you ? But when did your lordship arrive ?" "This moment, with Tom Alston." " Oh ! then we 're to have a double pleasure ! The lieu- tenant of his Excellency's guards, and the fine gentleman, above all others, of the colony! And just to think! my goodness! to appear before such company with my hair down ! Will you wait a minute while I fix it, my lord ?" " Yes, indeed, and look on too." The girl did not seem to mind this in the least, but run- ning back to the mirror, gathered up her curls, and quickly secured them with a tortoise-shell comb. She then affixed a bow of scarlet ribbon, added a loop of pearls, and turning round with a demure air, said, " How do you like me ?" St. John tried to make a jesting reply, but failed. The little elf looked so lovely, standing with a vagrant gleam of sunlight on her head, which was inclined coquettishly over one shoulder, that her companion's fun disappeared. For a moment he gazed at her in silence, and we shall embrace the opportunity to make an outline sketch of the little beauty -'-our heroine. Bonnybel Vane is a sparkling, mischievous little maiden of about seventeen. She has a slender, but elegantly rounded figure, a clear white complexion, with two fresh roses bloom- ing in her cheeks ; red, pouting lips, large bright eyes of a deep violet, which seem ready to melt or fire under the long dusky lashes, and a profusion of light brown hair, as soft as silk. The face is oval, of that pure-blooded Norman type which fascinated the kings and princes of the middle ages, and led to so many bitter feuds and bloody wars. The beautiful, mischievous looking head is placed upon a swan-like neck, and inclines toward one of the snowy shoulders. As to the expression of the girl's features, we can not de- scribe it. The brilliant violet eyes are ready to dance with merriment and mischief, or swim in the dews of feeling ; the lips are mobile, prepared to contract, like crumpled rose- 60 MISS BONNYBEL. leaves, with demure amusement at some jest, or, half-parted, to express a world of pity and pathos. Bonnybel is a strik- ing type of the woman of the South, as opposed to the pale, calm, statuesque beauty of more northern countries ; she is brimful of feeling, of impulse, mischief, coquettish wildness ; indeed, but for the impropriety of the illustration — " —it sounds ill, But there 's no wrong at bottom — rather praise" — we should say that ske resembles a " thorough-bred" young race-horse of the most elegant proportions and the purest "blood." She is clad in a pink dress, looped back with bows of ribbon, a close-fitting, square-cut bodice; and a frill of rich lace runs around the neck, and appears beneath the short sleeves, which leave the arms of the girl bare almost to the shoulders. She wears red coral bracelets clasped with gold, and her arms are of dazzling whiteness. In reply to her question, " How do you like me ?" St. J ohn at last, when he has recovered from his trance of admi- ration, replies that he likes her more than he can tell. " Your arms are especially beautiful, Bonny," he says. " Do you use cosmetics ?" " Cosmetics ! indeed ! No, sir, I do not !" she cried, with indignation. " Nature made them as they are !" " I wish nature had given them to me." "To you ? Pray, what would you do with them ?" " I would clasp them round my neck," said the young man ; " though I know about fifty young gentlemen who would like, in that event, to put an end to my existence." " A very pretty speech !" cries Bonnybel, with a danger- ous glance of her coquettish eyes ; " please inform me what romance you have been reading lately." " None. I have not had time. I have been thinking." " Thinking of what ?" " Of reality — suppose I say of you, Bonny ?" And the young man, losing his tone of jesting satire, al- M-ISS BONNYBEL. 61 most sighs. Bonnybel's quick ear catches the sound per- fectly, and the change of tone. But she does not betray the fact in the least. On the contrary, she laughs carelessly and says: " Of me ? Good gracious ! is it possible you have time to think of your little country cousin in the midst of your arduous toils, parading and marching ?" "Yes," replies St. John, looking with honest fondness straight into the girl's eyes, "I thought of you often. Ah! my dear, a young man can not be so much with his 4 little cousin,' as you say, when she is as sweet as you, Bonny, and then master his thoughts. I dream of you sometimes, and 't is a lovely, laughing little fairy I see in my dreams." " Excellent ! You have certainly been reading romances ! Gracious ! I a fairy. I suppose you '11 call me an angel next. Thank you, sir, but I 'm sorry to say I am neither. I am only a country girl, made of flesh and blood, with a fine ap- petite, a quick temper, and a fondness for every thing like a frolic — there, sir ! — and a — " " Warm, true heart, in spite of your mischievous ways !" added St. John, returning to his light tone of jest. " Oh, I know you very well, Bonny — may be too well. I mean that I had better have not seen so much of you; but let us go to aunt." He took her hand, and Bonnybel, who had rapidly glanced at his face, yielded it without a word. The little beauty, with the quick instinct of her sex, had already discovered the state of her cousin's feelings — the secret of the power she could exert over him. The further progress of our nar- rative will show whether the young lady's calculations were or were not correct. They rapidly descended the stair-case, hand in hand, and Bonnybel, quietly extricating herself, led the way to a room in the rear, the door of which she opened. In a moment Mr. St. John found himself affectionately embraced by a pair of thin arms, and received a kiss. Aunt Mabel sat in her old chair, thin, erect, clad in black silk, $ 62 MISS BONNYBEL. snowy handkerchief pinned across her bosom ; her scant gray hair neatly gathered beneath the plaits of her full lace cap. The old lady was busy knitting, casting from time to time a glance at a little negro girl, who was taking her first lessons in coarse sewing, on a cricket at her mistress' feet. At the distance of six paces, a chambermaid was knitting rough stockings, and, in the corner, an old negro woman, with her head tied up in a white cloth, assiduously plied the shears in cutting out clothes for the household. Aunt Mabel received her nephew with great affection, and made him give her all the news. 44 Well, well," she said at last, " I 'm glad to see you in such good health and spirits, nephew. Still, you were best here attending to your interests." " I think so, too, aunt," said the young man, looking to- ward Bonnybel, who was powdering her hair at the mirror, with a little round cushion of swansdown ; 44 and what does Miss Bonnybel think on the subject ?" 44 Sir ?" said the young lady, turning round ; 44 did you speak to me ?" 44 Yes." 44 What did you say?" 44 Then our conversation is inaudible — is it ?" he said, with a smile. 44 1 was only telling aunt that I thought I had best come back to the old county and remain here. I think there ? s nothing like the beauty of our fields in the whole wide world, aunt. To be a country gentleman after all seems to me a worthier ambition than to bow my knee be- fore the giandest royalty of Europe. The sight of the fields yonder, where I played in boyhood, makes* me a boy again ; and," he added, with a smile, 44 1 have the pleasure of meet- ing one of my old playmates." 44 You mean Bonny, I suppose, Harry," says Aunt Mabel, knitting busily. 44 Yes, she often says 't is no^ so merry when you are away — your laugh is wanting." Miss Bonnybel turned quickly, having suddenly finished her occupation. MISS BONNYBEL. H I said ! — mamma ! — I only meant — n " That Columbine did n't enjoy herself without Harle- quin !" said the young man. " I 'in glad you 've suddenly found your ears, Miss Columbine !" "Thank you, sir!" said Bonnybel, curtesying with mock ceremony, and pouting satirically, "I suppose you think that 's very smart and fine! O ! goodness gracious!" sud- denly cried the young lady, relapsing into laughter, " there y s? all my hair come down !" In truth the ardor of the damsel in turning her head had produced the result indicated, and her snowy shoulders were again covered by the profuse brown curls. " Let me assist you," said St. John, raising a mass of curls and smiling. " No, if you please, sir !" cried the girl, drawing back; " you would make a bad lady's maid, and I 'd rather not !" " Then I '11 go see Aunt Seraphina and Cousin Helen," said St. John, and with these words he descended to the sitting- room. It was a large apartment, decorated, after the fashion of the period, with carved wainscoting, and hung around with many portraits of old gentlemen in powder, and fair dames floating in translucent clouds of saffron lace. High-backed chairs stood about in picturesque disorder, and upon a table,, with crooked legs, were a number of volumes in embossed leather, tossed about at random. An embroidery frame stood in one corner, upon which a lady was then working, the design of her picture being Amyntor, in red stockings, and a blue hat, with snowy feathers, playing upon a Spanish mandolin, beneath the window of Amoret. An old sideboard^ with some silver plate on it, a little table, covered with china figures and grotesque vessels of that hideous description fashionable at the period, and, between the windows look- ing on the lawn, an old harpsichord, tall, stately, and antique — completed the accessories of the apartment in which Mr. St. John now found himself. Miss Seraphina, sister of Colonel Vane, and a lady of un* 64 MISS BONNYBEL. certain age, was working at the embroidery frame with sen timental smiles, as Mr. Tom Alston exchanged compliments ; and Mr. St. John had scarcely gotten through his greetings when Miss Helen Vane made her appearance, her waist en- circled by the arm of Miss Bonnybel, a pretty picture which young ladies have affected in all ages. Miss Helen is a handsome brunette of about twenty, with dark hair, dark eyes, and an air of serenity which seems incapable of change. She is erect and somewhat stately in the carriage of her fuii and handsome person, clad in rich black, rustling silk, and the faint smile which wanders from time to time over her countenance, scarcely relaxes this prevailing expression of collected calmness. When Mr. St. John essays to " salute" Miss Helen, she draws back, turning away her head, and the young man is obliged to content himself with a salute bestowed upon the ribband of her head dress. We have thus attempted to outline two young ladies who were great toasts in their day — especially the younger maiden, Miss Bonnybel, whose brilliant eyes, and lovely face, with those of her companions, illustrated so finely the times in which they moved. Yet who can paint them ? cries our good author, breaking forth, as is his wont, into raptures. Who can even so much as outline them truly, those ten- der little dames of the Virginia past ? They shine upon us now like stars, glimmering far away on the blue horizon of the elder day, withdrawing, as we gaze, their ineffectual fires, and fainting in the garish sunlight of the present. It is easy to tell of the looped-back gown, and all the rich fur- belows and flounces, with streaming ribbon knots ; the red Spanish shoes, the clocks on the stockings, the lace around shoulders like the driven snow, or the powder that lies, like that snow, on the hair — the dark or bright hair, the raven or the golden ! But alas ! these are only the externals. There is something beneath all this which still escapes us, which we vainly attempt to grasp or describe. Mild and serene, there was yet something bright and ardent in these MISS BONNYBEL. 65 natures which we do not see to-day ! The blossom on the bough, the spray on the wave, the dew on the grass — some- thing fresh, and natural, and indescribable ! A grace which we can not express, which flits when we try to embrace it —the shadow of a shadow ! CHAPTER X. "old gouty." Tke party of young people are laughing and talking with immense assiduity, when a door in the hall is heard to open, a species of growl resounds, and Helen and Bonnybel say, at the same moment, " There 's papa !" The young men rise, and at the same moment old Colonel Vane appears at the door, and cries in a cheery voice, " Good morrow, Tom, and welcome, Captain Harry ! When did you turn up, and where from ?" " Tom came with me from town, uncle," says Mr. St. John, shaking the fat hand, "how is your health?" " So so — so so ! I think the devil *s in this foot, Harry ! I might sit for the portrait of Old Gouty !" And the rubicund old gentleman laughed and grimaced. There was much truth in his declaration. Never did gout attack a more suitable subject. Colonel Vane was an old fellow of about sixty, with a portly person, one foot wrapped in bandages, while the other was encased in a neat buckled shoe, and silk stocking, and his costume indicated one well to do in the world, and fond of his ease. His powdered hair was gathered in a queue behind, his ruffles were huge and spotless, and the gold-headed cane which he carried had evidently found its way to Virginia from the shop of a London maker. With this cane he half supported himself though he seemed greatly to prefer the soft shoulders of Misses Helen and Bonnybel, who hastened to his side. MISS BGNNYBEL. Had Addison seen the old fellow thus smumg and making wry faces at the enemy in his foot, the worthy colonel would have been immortalized in a number of the Spectator, and it is more than probable that Hogarth, or one of the later humorists of the town, would have drawn him in the charac- ter of an East Indian director limping forth to his coach, af- ter a dinner at the Lord Mayor's, irascible with the gout, and still growling at the insolence of the American rebels, who had tossed the Company's tea overboard in the harbor of Boston. " Youth 's a fine thing !" said the jolly old colonel, smil- ing at the party, " and I enjoyed my own. There! there ! my dear — softly !" And the colonel commenced moving toward the chariot. " I am going to the county court," he said, " that is if this cursed gout will let me ! My old enemy, boys," added the worthy ; " and like a scolding wife, has ever the kst word ! 'T is enough to make a man swear ; but I won't. I must get on and see to that road to the river ; the girls will take care of you — there ! there ! easy, my dear !" And the colonel stepped upon the portico, still supported by the girls. " Come here you old rascal !" he cried to Cato ; " give me your arm !" Old Cato, in a measured and deliberate way, abandoned the horses, and approached his master. The colonel, how- ever, desired that Cato should rush rapidly toward him, and the deliberate pace of the old negro caused him to flourish his cane and swear. Cato did not hasten his steps, however. He seemed to think that he as well as his master had rights, and moreover, was convinced from long experience that the cane would not descend upon his shoulders. The event proved his good sense — he preserved his personal dignity and lost nothing. "Look at the old dog !" said the colonel ; " he presumes upon my good nature and takes his time. Come, you ahp- doned old wretch ! There ! take care of the foot ! easy l M MISS BONNYBEL. 67 And leaning upon Cato, the old gentleman reached the chariot, and was comfortably deposited within upon the soft cushions. The young girls bade him good-bye, with a kiss; and old Cato having received an intimation from the colonel that he would thrash him on his return, if he drove faster than a slow walk, the chariot rolled away over the smooth gravel at a brisk trot, and was soon out of sight. It had scarcely disappeared behind the foliage, when half a dozen ladies and gentlemen on horseback appeared at the outer gate, and mounted the hill at full gallop. They dis- mounted before the house in the midst of a joyful clatter and a shower of kisses, and Miss Bonnybel seemed ready tc dance with delight at the anticipation of a frolic. CHAPTER XL A MAY MORNING IN >74. Our history will not admit of a detailed description of the events of the day at Vanely, else should we take pleas- ure in relating how the gallants in ruffles and powder paid assiduous court to the damsels in hoops and furbelows ; how laughter and sighs, bright glances and jests, with incessant rattling on the old harpsichord, filled the morning. Many songs were sang, and in truth — says our good au- thor, full of admiration, as usual, of the damsels — there was rarest music in those girlish voices caroling the tender or gay ditties of the past. The ardent love of faithful shep- herds for the dearest shepherdesses sang in their madrigals, and all was love and sunshine, laughter, merriment and joy. Sparkling eyes lent point and brilliancy to jests from rosy lips ; and all was May in tbe old house, whose very portraits seemed to smile and say, " Be happy while 't is May !" At last the gay sunshine drew them to the lawn, and soon they were wandering across the flowery grass, and undei 68 MISS BONNYBEL. the old century oaks — a merry party, brilliant as the flowers which the little maidens really resembled in their variegated dresses, and communicating to the grounds of the old home- stead new attraction.* The birds sang merrily above their heads, flitting from tree to tree across the mild blue ; the apple blossoms lay upon the boughs like fragrant snow, and the fresh river breezes, bearing on their wings the odor of the sea, blew on the tender foreheads, and made every cheek more rosy, and ran through the branches overhead, dancing and sing- ing, and then died away, a musical murmur, mingling with the carol of the maidens like a symphony from airy harps. And suddenly in a dell of the forest, or rather beneath a knoll of the lawn, they came upon a very pleasing device of Miss Bonnybel's — nothing less than a most tempting array of edibles scattered in picturesque confusion on the grass. Heavy slices of fruit-cake piled themselves up or lay in masses ; cut-glass dishes scarcely held the golden moun- tains of cool jellies ; bottles of the colonel's finest sherry rolled about, like topers overcome with liquor, in the grass ; and in the center a huge round of beef flanked with cold fowls and ham, twinkled in light and shadow, as the boughs of the great oak moved with the breeze. Laughing like children at the pleasant surprise, the young men and maidens hasten to the spot, and the attack com- mences very vigorously. It is a scene from " As You Like it," or of Robin Hood's day, or such as Watteau liked to place on canvas. Seated on the emerald sward, in attitudes of careless ease and graceful abandon, with saffron laces around snowy arms, and silken dresses emulating tulip beds, and small hands grasping slender glasses filled with gold, and merry laughter at a thousand jests — thus scattered over the lawn, beneath the rustling boughs of the old oak, the party make a little Arcady for themselves, without a cloud, filled full with sun* shine. * Historical Illustrations, No Y. MISS BONNY BEL* 09 u T is really charming," says Tom Alston, who, having finished his repast, gently smoothes his ruffles with one hand, holding a glass of sherry in the other ; " 't is quite a sylvan scene, from one of the pastorals, of Mr. Pope, say." " Or Theocritus," adds a young gentleman recently from college. " Yes." says Mr. Alston, " and reminds me of a similar scene, when I was a young fellow, in Effingham woods." " When Kate Effingham was your sweetheart," cries Bonnybel, laughing. "Really — ahem! — really now," replies Mr. Alston, mod- estly, "I prefer not alluding to these subjects, but I believe that most charming young lady did have some regard for me." Mr. Alston looks more modest than ever, and adds, " I, however, resigned her to my friend, Will Effingham — sacrificed myself on the altar of friendship — they are now married." General laughter greets this communication, and a smile even wanders over the countenance of Helen. The laugh- ter does not embarrass Mr. Alston, who says, " On that agreeable occasion, Miss Kate sang a charming song — 4 1 'm o'er young to marry yet ;' also another, which methinks no poet has surpassed — c There lives a lass upon the green.' " Mr. Alston's talent is well known, and he is besieged to sing. He receives the proposal with surprise, declares he has a cold — protests he can not. At the end of ten minutes, however, he is singing in a voice of great melody. This is his song : " There lives a lass upon the green ; Could I her picture draw, A brighter nymph was never seen ; She looks and reigns a little queen, And keeps the swains in awe. u Her eyes are Cupid's darts and wings, Her eyebrows are bis bow, 70 MISS BONNYBEL. Her silken hair the silver strings, Which swift and sure destruction brings To all the vale below. " If Pastorella's dawn of light Can warm and wound us so, Her noon must be so piercing bright Each glancing beam would kill outright, And every swain subdue I" Much applause follows, and Mr. Alston raises his glass — " I have the honor of drinking the health of our hostess, Pastorella," he says, bowing to Bonnybel. The young lady rises, and makes a low and demure cur- tesy, endeavoring to smother her laughter, caused by the languishing expression of Mr. Alston. It bursts forth, how- ever, and all join in the merry peal. At the same moment, a distant cannon booms across the fields, and every one starts. Bonnybel claps her hands and cries that it is Captain Fellowes, of the " Charming Sally," with all the new London dresses ! She has seen his arrival at York in the Gazette, and he always fires his swivel at the landings ! Miss Bonnybel's excitement about the new dresses is con- tagious, and in fifteen minutes the entire party of young la- dies, accompanied by their cavaliers, are galloping toward the Vanely wharf. The " Charming Sally" has gone aground, owing to low water, at some distance from the piers running out into the river, but the large boat, always lying below the old ware- house, is put in requisition, and, propelled by two stalwart and grinning Africans, the craft plunges her cutwater into the current, and lands the party on the vessel. Captain Fellowes is a good-humored old tar, and meets the young people with the air of an old acquaintance. To Miss Bonnybel's excited question as to her dresses, the old fel- low replies by lugging down his book of entries, smiling, and the young lady having come to V y reads aloud hur- riedly — MISS BONNYBEL. 71 " Colonel Vane — Vanely Landing — Prince George — casks Canary — boxes Zante currants — oranges Barcelona — Lucca olives — saddles — harness — volumes in leather, namely — gowns from Madam Fenton — over against — " " Here it is !" cries Miss Bonnybel ; " look, Helen ! every thing we sent for !" Helen smiles — she is less enthusiastic. " O thank you, Captain Fellowes !" cries Bonnybel ; " you must not laugh at me for my noise, for you know I 'm not one of the lords of creation. Please send these boxes at once to the house, and papa's Canary for dinner, if he comes back." To all this, Captain Fellowes growled a good-humored assent, and then the party, having scattered themselves over the vessel, and satisfied their curiosity by inspecting every thing, reentered the boat and were rowed back to the wharf. Bat not to the sons or the daughters of men, come days without a cloud — unalloyed pleasure — the rose without the obstinate thorn. Bonnybel and her cousin were the last to leave the boat. With dancing eyes, and bright cheeks, rosy with pleasure, the young lady hastened to ascend the wharf. But unhappy to relate, her slipper was placed much too carelessly upon the smooth gunwale ; the boat swayed, and slipping first upon her knee, then wholly, Miss Bonnybel was precipitat- ed into the river. We need scarcely say that she rose from the waves in the arms of Mr. St. John, who gallantly rescued her. A dozen frightened faces and eager hands were immedi- ately stretched out, and the young lady stood safely upon the wharf ; but with a direful change in her appearance. Her hair had fallen upon her shoulders, and streamed with water ; her furbelows had disappeared and a small foot clad in a white silk stocking, from which the shoe had been lost, peered from her skirt, from which a flood of moisture de- scended. MISS BONNYBEL. " Oh me !" eried the young lady, leaning upon one of her companions, " how did I fall into the water ?" " Very gracefully," replied St. John. " And you saved me !" " In the most heroic manner," replied the young man, wringing his wet sleeves, u and I know you are too much of a heroine to mind it." " I do n't," said Miss Bonnybel, laughing and blushing as she drew back her foot ; " but, oh goodness, 1 5 ve lost my shoe !" It was brought as she spoke, by a negro who had fished it out ; and Mr. St. John most gallantly replaced it upon the foot. It was doubtless owing to the moist state of the stocking that he consumed about twice as much time as was necessary. The ceremony was concluded at last, however, and then the young man would have sent for a carriage, but Bonny- bel would not hear of it. She declared that the accident was nothing ; she could return upon horseback as she came ; and mounting with laughter into the saddle, she galloped off with her hair streaming, followed by the other young ladies, and the gallants, who declared that she was a hero- ine, and " full of pluck." We shall not pause to discuss the question, but proceed to relate that they soon reached Vanely ; that Miss Bonny- bel was forced to partake largely of artificial spirits by good Aunt Mabel, and that the young lady thereafter put on one of the London dresses which punctual Captain Fellowes had iust sent from the vessel, and flirting an enormous fan, swept up and down the room with all the mincing languor of a lady of the court, to the great enjoyment of the young ladies, her companions, who greeted the exhibition with much laughter. They had then a great dinner, at which sunset surprised them } and so the day was done ; but not the merry-making. MISS BONNYBEL. 13 CHAPTER XII. THE WINDOW PANES AT VANELY. Me. Haeey St. John changed his wet dress, and having taken a last survey of himself in the mirror, issued forth and descended the stair-case. At the bottom step, he paused and leaned upon the ban- ister. A portrait hanging high up on the old wall, among the powdered heads and snowy bosoms of the Vane family, has attracted his attention. It is a picture of Bonnybel, taken in her fifteenth year, when the London artist came to Williamsburg, and turned his skill to golden account among the gentlemen and ladies of the colony. The little maiden looks lovely on the can- vas, in her pretty costume of silk, and lace, and ribbons ; her sunny hair descending upon plump white shoulders; her mischievous eyes and rosy cheeks peering forth as it were from the brown curls. She caresses with her dimpled hand the head of a shaggy little h)pdog, and looks into the beholder's face with a mixture of mirth and tenderness. "'Tis a wonderful art," mutters the young man, "and there 's the very face I 've loved to look on for many a day — full of wild mischief, and yet tender. 'T would make quite a story for the pastoral romances ! — the history of my life ■ — and now I wish to go away and fight the Indians ! " Tom 's right after all," he continued. " I doubtless put on the plume of war to dazzle the eyes of somebody ! 1 believe I am falling regularly in love ; but what will be the issue I do n't know. Well, patience and shuffle the cards, as Tom says; who knows what will happen ?" "Suppose now you look a minute at the original," said a voice at his elbow. St. John turns quickly and sees the vi- vacious Miss Bonnybel, decked out for the evening, at his side. 4 74 MISS BONNYBEL. " But if I prefer the portrait ?" he replies ; " it reminds me of old times." " When I was a child, I suppose, sir !" "Yes ; and when you loved me more than now." " Who said I did not love you now ?" asked the girl, with a coquettish glance. " Do you ?" " Certainly. I love you dearly — you and all my cousins." St. John sighed, and then laughed ; but he said nothing, and offering his arm, led the girl into the sitting-room. The young girls, whilst awaiting the appearance of Caesar, the violin player, from the " quarters," amused themselves writing their names, after a fashion very prevalent in Vir- ginia, upon the panes of the windows. For this purpose they made use of diamond rings, or, better still, the long, sharp-pointed crystals known as " Virginia diamonds." With these the gallants found no difficulty in inscribing the names of their sweethearts, with all the flourishes of a writing-master, on the glass, and very soon the glittering tablets were scrawled over with Lucies and Fannies, and a brilliant genius of the party even executed some fine profile portraits. Those names have remained there fbr nearly a century, and when afterwards the persons who traced them looked with age-dimmed eyes upon the lines, the dead day rose again before them, and its forms appeared once more, laugh- ing and joyous, as at Vanely on that evening. And not here only may these memorials of another age be found ; in a hundred Virginia houses they speak of the past. Yes, yes, says our author, those names on the panes of Vanely are a spell! They sound with a strange music, a bright wonder in the ears of their descendants ! Frail chronicle ! how you bring up the brilliant eyes again, the jest and the glance, the joy and the laughter, the splendor and beauty which flashed onward, under other skies, in the old Virginia, dead to us so long ! As I gaze on your sur- faces, bright panes of Vanely, I fancy with what sparkling MISS BONNYBEL. 75 eyes the names were traced. I see in a dream, as it were, the soft white hand which laid its cushioned palm on this glittering tablet ; I see the rich dresses, the bending necks, the figures gracefully inclined as the maidens leaned over to write "Lucy," and "Fanny," and " Nelly," and "Frances," and "Kate;" I see the curls and the powder, the furbelows and flounces, the ring on the finger, the lace on the arm — poor lace that was yellow indeed by the snow it enveloped ! I see, no less clearly, the forms of the gal- lants, those worthy young fellows in ruffles and fairtops ; I see all the smiles, and the laughter, and love. All is very plain, and I mutter, " Fair dames and cavaliers, what 's be- come of all your laughter and sighing — your mirth, and bright eyes, and high pride ? Did you think that all gener ations but your own were mortal ? that the sun would al ways shine, the music ever sound, the roses on your cheeks never wither ? You had pearls in your hair, and your lips were carnations ; the pearls may remain, but the carnations, where are they ? O beautiful figures of a dead generation ! you are phantoms only. You arc all gone, and your laces have faded or are moth-eaten ; you are silent now, and still, and the minuet bows no more ; you are dimly remembered laughter, the heroines of a tale that is told — you live on a window pane only !" Old panes ! it is the human story that I read in you — the legend of a generation, and of all gener- ations ! For what are the records of earth and its actors but frost-work on a pane, or these scratches of a diamond \ which a blow shatters. A trifle may shiver the tablet and strew it in the dust ! There is only one record, one tablet, where the name which is written lives for ever ; it is not in this world, 't is beyond the stars ! " O there 's Uncle Caesar !" cries Bonnybel, " and we 'U hare a dance !" " Yes, a dance !" " O yes!" u How do you do, Uncle Caesar t n w A minuet first I" 76 MISS BONNYBEL. These are some of the outcries which resound through the apartment as an old gray-haired African appears at the door, and removing his fox-tail cap, louts low before the animated throng. CHAPTER XIII. HOW THEY DANCED A MINUET DE LA COUB. We linger for a moment to look upon the divertisements of that old, old land — the far away colonial Virginia. It is all gone from us, and, as says our worthy author, the minuet bows no longer, but it shall bow in our history as it did be- fore. A narrative, such as we write, should not only flow on like a stream toward its termination, it should also mir- ror on its surface the bright scenes it passes through — the banks, the skies, the flowers of other years, all should be painted on the ever moving current. Therefore we pause a moment to look on the minuet, to listen to old Uncle Caesar's fiddle, to hear the long-drawn music wind its liquid cadences through mellow variations, and to see the forms and faces of the young men and the maidens. They have a quadrille first, and then a couple take the floor. St. John leans on the carved back of Bonnybel's chair, and makes himself generally agreeable. " How gracefully the girls of Virginia dress," he says , "like butterflies, all blue and gold, and — down." " Butterflies indeed !" cries the young lady, " and pray what do the gentlemen resemble — wasps ?" " No ; working bees." " Drones rather !" " What a wit you have I" says Mr. St. John, laughing ; 44 but, really now, just see, Consider these lilies of the pas*- MISS BONNYBEL. 11 lor, they toil not, neither do they spin, like their grand- mothers." " I do, sir !» " Then you are different. The young ladies do n't sew or spin, they engage Mr. Pate or Mrs. Hunter to relieve them of it." " Pray, what do you know of Mr. Pate ?" " I know what I read," says St. John, taking up, with a smile, the " Virginia Gazette " see here the notice that Master Matthew Pate has for sale, 4 Stays, twin and single ; jumps, half-bow stays, stays made to buckle before, pin or button,' no doubt with diamond studs, like yours, madam!" " You are extremely wise and learned in the female cos- tume ; my stays came from London, and I'll thank you — " Here the minuet ends, and the particular conversation is lost in the general buzz. It is next Bonnybel's turn, and with a queenly air she says to Mr. St. John, who has en- gaged her hand, " You '11 please ask me to dance formally, sir ?" St. John smiles, deposits his cocked-hat on his heart, and bowing to the ground, requests the pleasure of a minuet. Bonnybel opens her enormous fan, with ivory decorations, places its downy edge upon her chin, and inclining her head sidewise with a die-away expression, declares, simpering, that really the gallants will not let her rest, she 's wearied with attention, but supposes, since my Lord Bolingbroke has asked her hand, she ought not to refuse. With these words, and in the midst of general laughter, Miss Bonnybel gives her hand daintily to her partner, and they advance into the floor, to the mellow strains of Uncle Caesar's fiddle. It is a little beauty of the eighteenth century, armed cap- a-pie for conquest, that the current of our story now re- flects ; the picture will be seen no more in truth, however, unless grandma on the wall yonder, painted at the age of seventeen, steps down and curteseys to us in some reverie or dream, V8 MISS BONNYBEL. Bonnybel wears, over a scarlet petticoat, a hooped dress of yellow satin, all furbelowed and decorated, especially with a row of rich rosettes, down to the feet. The bodice is cut square, the waist long and slender ; the satin fits closely to the young lady's pliant figure, which is encircled by a silver girdle, and between the silken net-work of red cords, secur- ing the open front, a profusion of saffron lace, kept in its place by diamond studs, dazzles the eye like a heap of new fallen snow tinted with sunset. The sleeves are short, or perhaps it will be more correct to say that the dress has no sleeves at all, the round, dimpled shoulders of tha young lady being encircled only, so to speak, by a narrow band of silk ; and, last of all, a cloud of gauze floats round the neck and shoulders, reconciling Miss Bonnybel to a pattern which she gazed at somewhat ruefully when it was first unfolded. Blue satin shoes, with slender heels about four inches high, and a light head-dress, principally consisting of a wreath of roses, finish the costume ; the young lady having for decora- tion only a pearl necklace, rising and falling tranquilly. As this prettily clad little beauty bowed before him, Mr. St. John thought he had never seen a fairer sight, more danc- ing eyes, any thing at the same time half so feminine and mischievous. Bonnybel danced exceedingly well ; and as sho moved in perfect time to the stately music, and bent in the measured curtesey, until her curls fell like a cloud of dusky gold around the rosy cheeks, and her knee touched the floor almost, — thus gliding before him in the fine old dance, and giving him, with dainty ceremony, the tips of her fingers ? the young dame made her partner fancy that the most at- tractive and provoking fairy of Titania's court had come in from the moonlight, and would flit away as she came. He t;aw her thus curteseying long afterwards, and when an old man, told it to another generation.* So the minuet bowed and curteseyed itself onward through its stately motions, and with a low sigh of satisfaction and belf-ad miration, died away. * Historical Illustrations, No. YL MISS BONNTBEL. 70 But the dancing was not over. A reel succeeded. The fiddler exchanged his mellow cadences for spirit-stirring mirth, the tragic symphony gave way to sparkling comedy. Darting, inclining, clasping and unclasping hands, the gay party bore no bad resemblance to a flock of children turned loose for a holiday. Even the stately Helen's " dignity" was overthrown, and Mr. Tom Alston's line peruke, from Monsieur Lafonge's, filled the whole wide apartment with its perfumed powder. For almost fin hour thus Uncle Caesar made the bounding feet keep time to his gay music, and as he approached the end of the performance, the old fiddler seemed to be car- ried away by the genius of uproar. With head thrown back, eyes rolling in their orbits, and huge foot keeping time to the tune, his bow flashed backward and forward with a wild delight, and the violin roared and burst into shouts of laughter. Quicker yet and ever quicker grew the movements of the "Snow-bird on the ash-bank," the old musician threw his whole soul into the uproarious reel, and the brilliant forms, with dazzling silks and eyes more daz- zling still, and rosy cheeks, and laughter, flashed from end to end of the great room, and whirled through mazes, and were borne like variegated foam upon the sparkling waives — those waves of the wild music which roared, and laughed, and shouted over pearls and powder, diamonds and bright eyes, in grandest revelry and furious mirth. So reigned the great Caesar over man and maid, and so, perhaps, the headlong violin would still be playing — but for cruel fate. Suddenly a string snapped, the dance was at an end, and Uncle Caesar, with a long scrape, put bis fiddle under his arm, and made his most impressive bow. The maidens stood still panting and laughing, with undulating forms, and rosy cheeks, and sparkling eyes, and vigorous fannings ; and then the reel at an end, they hastily prepared to depart. In vain they were pressed to stay; and soon, with a mul- tiplicity of kisses, (then, as now, a favorite amusement of 80 MISS BONNYBEL, young ladies in the presence of young gentlemen,) they fled away into the moonlit forest, with their attendant cav aliers. Fair dames ! what a pity it is that the pen of him who writes could not adequately paint your joy and beauty, your brilliant eyes, your pearl-looped towers of curls, your dan- gerous glances — all your sighs, and coquetries and laugh- ter ! And if your fair grand-children, following, in an idle moment, their most humble servant's chronicle, cry out with a pretty indignation at the fact, the chronicler can only take his hat off humbly, and bow low, and plead his inability to make the picture ; to tell how beautiful those lilies of the past appeared; those lilies and dear roses of Virginia fields ; and hope that they are somewhere bloom- ing on Virginia walls — flowers of the years before ; but fresh still for us, in imperishable memory ! St. John and Bonnybel stood on the portico and watched them till they disappeared. She must have understood the long ardent look which he fixed upon her face, as she stood thus, bathed in the silver moonlight ; but Miss Bonnybel was sleepy and intent on bed. Much as she would have liked to promenade with her companion, and tantalize him with her glances, she preferred retiring. So, pursing up her lips toward him, as though she wished to be kissed, she darted away, laughing, and disap- peared. St. John remained alone, musing by moonlight for an hour, and then also retired to his chamber and his bed. It was to dream of her. * MISS BONNYBEL. 31 CHAPTER XIV. WHICH VERIFIES THE PROVERB THAT LISTENERS NEVEB HEAR ANY GOOD OF THEMSELVES. On the morning following the scenes just narrated, St. John leaped out of bed at sunrise, and leaving Tom Al- ston still asleep, dressed quickly, and went down stairs; thence he issued forth upon the lawn, and bent his steps toward the " quarters." Here, in all the dignified state of a log cabin of the larg- est size, his nurse, " Mammy Liza," resided. Let it not be a matter of surprise that the lieutenant of his Excellency's guards rose thus early to go and see his nurse. In the South, and more especially in Virginia, that element of society denominated " Mammy," is of no slight importance and dignity. This lady is of high aristocratic dignity. She is of the Order of the "Bath" — in reference to the young ladies of the manor house, both of the " Bath" and the " Garter." Honi soit qui mal y pense ! For her young master, the old African countess preserves an unfailing attachment and a jealous care. All his goings on are criticised with a watchful supervision. Does he per- form a generous and noble action ? the countess is there to say it is just like her boy. Does he sit up late with revel- ing blades, and make darkness hideous with tipsy uproar ? the countess eloquently extends her arm, assumes a look of outraged virtue, and rates the delinquent soundly — using for the purpose all her vast resources in the art of scolding ; and ending with an ominous shake of the head, an unfavor- able comparison of the scapegrace with his honored sire, Old Master, and a prophecy that if he do n't reform, he '11 come to want, and them overseers will be masters at the hall. Does the crushed malefactor urge in gentle tones that he was merely entertaining his friends, and playing a hand at ** 82 MISS BONNYBEL. cards, for amusement only? the countess is unconvinced, and requests, with dignity, that she may not be told any thing of that sort ; she never thought that any son of Mis- tress would turn out a sorrow to her ; and with renewed ominous shakings of the head, she sends away the penitent criminal, overwhelmed with remorse, and making good res- olutions. Beautiful and touching is the love of these old women for the children they have nursed ; and they cher- ish and love, and scold and forgive them, with the earnest- ness of real maternity. Mammy Liza is an old woman with her head enveloped in a white handkerchief, and she spins at the door of her comfortable cabin, from the summit of whose stone chimney built up outside, a wreath of smoke rises, and glows like a stream of gold in the sunrise. St. John hastens on, smiling, and his shadow falling be- fore her, makes Mammy Liza lift her old face. She utters an exclamation of great joy, and in a moment they are sitting side by side on the old bench, talking of a thousand things — this talk being chiefly on the part of the old woman, who, with the garrulity of age, embraces the past, the present, and the future, in her monologue. For half an hour they thus sit side by side, and then Mr. St. John rises with the bright smile which makes his coun- tenance at times singularly attractive. He has renewed with the old woman all those recollections of his youth and childhood, rapidly disappearing amid the dust of the arena, and the kind old voice has sounded to him like the softest music, the very echo of happiness. As he looks forth thus into the fields, he thinks he sees Bonnybel approaching, and soon this is confirmed. He sud- denly passes behind the door, and cautioning the old woman, waits to give the young lady a surprise. She comes on with an active and springy step, clad in a brown gown, thick, serviceable shoes, and a broad-rimmed chip hat ; presenting thus a strong contrast to the Miss Bonnybel of the minuet. But her cheeks are even more MISS BOtfNYBEL. 33 rosy, her eyes brighter, her laughing lips resemble rea": car- nations. She is followed by a small negro maiden, carrying a basket and pitcher — the duty of this maiden at Vanely being to watch Miss Bonnybel's countenance, and run at her nod. Bonnybel's \oice salutes Mammy Liza, and asks how she is, to which the old woman returns the reply that she is " poorly, thank God ; how is Miss Bel ?" " I 'm as gay as a lark," returns the young lady, summon- ing her body-guard, " and I 've been to see Aunt Jane an' 3 all the sick. Aunt Seraphina tried to take it away from me, but I fought her and made her give up," added Miss Bon- nybel, with great cheerfulness. St. John, behind the door, laughs silently. The young lady continues, running on carelessly : " Here 's some breakfast, Mammy. I suppose you know the news. Your great General Harry 's come back ! and now I suppose you think I'm going to praise him! but you 're mistaken ! He is terribly ugly ! and the most dis- agreeable person I ever knew! Lazy, too! just think of his lying in bed, with poor little me out here ! It was chilly enough when I got out of my warm bed. But I am going to get up every morning, just to shame those lazy boys. Ha ! ha ! now you are getting angry, Mammy ! You want me to praise that stiff, awkward, lazy, odious, good-for-noth- ing Harry of yours, but I won't ! Do you believe that he had the audacity to kiss me ! Humph ! he thinks I 'm a child still, does he ? I '11 make him know that I 'm a young lady ! I 'm seventeen ! and I intend to make every one of the boys run when I tell them ! some of 'em are glad enough to !" The young lady paused to catch her breath ; but seeing what she considered an expression of pain upon Mammy Liza's face, immediately recommenced : " Have I hurt your feelings, Mammy, w T ith my talk about your boy? O ! I was only jesting! and I'll say any thing you wish ! To think me in earnest ! He >s the dearest, sweetest, handsomest fellow in the world ! I would n't have had him to miss kissing me for any thing ! He 's so 84 MISS BONttYBEt. erect, and proud, and noble! and has such an excellent heart ! and dances so well ! and rides so well ! and — " " Fishes young ladies from the water so well !" says St. John, coming from his hiding place, with a laugh. Bonnybel retreats a step, almost screaming. She recon- siders this, however, and bursts out laughing. " Ain't you ashamed, sir ?" she then says, passing quickly to a pout, " to lie in wait, and listen to me so ! But there 'a one comfort, you heard my abuse of you ; listeners ^evei hear any good of themselves." "I did," said St. John. " You heard some bad too, then !" " Well, I'll mix the good and bad together, and perhaps I shall arrive at your real opinion of your poor cousin." " Now you are commencing your mock humility. I de- test you !" And Bonnybel draws away abruptly the small soft hand which, by some accident, has remained in that of her com- panion since he took possession of it. There is, however, very little detestation in the tone of the words, or the glance which accompanies them. When they take leave of Mammy Liza, and return toward the mansion over the beautiful dewy lawn, beneath the great oaks, bathed in the red sunlight, an excellent understanding seems to have been arrived at, and Bonnybel is plying the dangerous artillery of her eyes with fatal effect upon hex companion. Mr. Harry St. John is falling in love as rapidly as it is possible to go through that ceremony. HfTSS BONNYBEL. 85 CHAPTER XV. BONNYBEL LOOKS IN A MIEKOB AND LAUGH B. The ladies were assembled in the cheerful breakfast room, and half a dozen servants were placing on the broad table a profusion of smoking edibles, contributing to the perfection of that most perfect of inventions, a Virginia breakfast. St. John mixed a julep with the skill and rapidity ot an old practitioner, and the ladies, having each taken a sip, the parties were soon seated around the board, Miss Bonnybel behind the urn. "Did Mr. Alston commence his toilet when you did?" asked the young lady, innocently, of St. John, glancing, as she spoke, demurely at the stately Helen; "he takes as long to dress as a girl, and Bel Tracy said, the other day, that he was no better than one, with his curls and per- fumes !" Helen, with a dignified toss of the head, intimates her opinion of this attack upon her admirer, but says nothing. " Just think of Mr. Alston on horseback !" continues Bon- nybel, pouring out, " with musquetoon, and saber, heavy boots, and pistols, going to the wars ! Now you all frown at me, as if it was treason to doubt that the elegant Mr. Alston would leap out of his bed, and be ready at sunrise, if the trumpet called to horse !" " I doubt that myself, my dear Miss Bonnybel," said the subject of the conversation, behind the young lady ; " 't is only the breakfast bell that rouses me." And Mr. Alston, in snowy ruffles, and serene smiles, saun- ters in and distributes a comprehensive salute. "Was I the subject of discussion?" he says, amiably, " Chocolate, if you please, Miss Bonnybel." "'Twas Miss Tracy's epigram about you that was m & peated," says St. John, 86 MISS BONNYBEL* " Ah, Miss Tracy ?" replies his friend. " A fine girl, Miss Tracy — told me she wished she was a man, the other day." " "Well, Tom, she said she regarded you no more than a girl. 'Tis only reasonable to suppose that she wishes to change her condition with her sex and marry you. Mr. Bel Tracy, on the 10th, to Miss Thomas Alston, daughter of, and so forth, in the c Gazette !' " Mr. Alston replies, serenely, " Delighted to marry Miss Bell Tracy, but not to change my sex." " I would," says Bonnybel. "You!" says St. John ; "pray why?" " Oh we 'd have such glorious fox-hunts — I and the other boys!" cries Bonnybel, "and such a jolly frolic after- wards I" The air of the young lady, while she utters these words, is so excellent a farce that even Aunt Mabel laughs. "But, you will permit me," says Mr. Alston; "what would be the state of mind of your adorers, Miss Bonnybel, for doubtless you wish to marry a young gentleman." " No, sir ! Pray whom ?" "Why, let us say, Will Roan — why not espouse that gentleman ?" " For a very good reason — he 's not asked me !" laughs the young lady; "besides, I wouldn't if he did. I've no desire to go halves in his affections with the thorough-bred he 's had the goodness, I am told, to call ' Bonnybel,' after me, forsooth !" "Well, Roan is fond of horses. But there 's Buck Ran- ton. He's a fine fellow; though I heard an aristocratic little lady in town, the other day, declare that Mr. Ranton's family were scarcely c good enough for her — he was n't an F. F. V.' " " An F. F. V. ? I hate that new-fangled phrase !" cried Bonnybel, " and I think the young lady was a goose ! I say Mr. Ranton 's every inch a gentleman, and I do n't care a fig about his family !" MISS BONNYBEL. 81 " Why not have him then, my dear Madam ?" .irges Mr. Alston, gently. Boimybel is silent — Mr. Ranton's misadventure being very recent. " Or Charley Fox," continues the gentleman, smiling, and sipping his chocolate; "he at least does not fill his mind with horses like Mr. Roan." " But he does with his namesakes, the foxes !" says Bon- nybel. "'Tis even more humiliating to divide with fox- hounds than horses. Mr. Fox's wife is sure to be the keen- er of the kennels !" " Say Mr. Lindon, then." The girl's face clouds, and she says, coldly, " I do not like Mr. Lindon." " Well, well," says Mr. Alston, " then I will not further annoy you, unless you will permit me to suggest the names of your friends, Mr. Randolph, Mr. Page, Mr. Pendleton, or Mr. Braxton; I believe they all come occasionally to see you, do they not ?" A smile runs around the table, and for a moment there is silence. Mr. Alston has given an accurate catalogue of the slain and wounded, for whose condition Miss Bonnybel is responsible — for all these gentlemen have met with bad fortune at Vanely. Bonnybel, however, is a true woman — that is to say, she finds no difficulty in commanding her countenance. "Did you ask if these gentlemen were my friends?" she says, with the most dove-like innocence, " and if they ever came to see me ? Yes, they do, sometimes, sir." Mr. Alston gently inclines his head, sipping his chocolate. "I thought I had seen them here once or twice," he replies, " though not very frequently of late. However, I suppose they have one and all been detained by some little accident." " Do you think so ?" says Miss Bonnybel, with innocent curiosity; u but while I think of it, pray how do you gen- tlemen propose to spend the morning ?" 88 MISS BONHYBEL. Mr. Alston acquiesces in the change of topic, and says with graceful ease, " I think I shall bestow iny poor society on Miss Helen, if she is not afraid of being thrown into a fit of yawning." " And I will ride out with you if you wish," says St. John to Bonnybel. This arrangement is acquiesced in, and the breakfast ends. Aunt Mabel retires to her chamber to supervise the " cutting out," Miss Seraphina to peruse the last romance brought from London, and the young men to smoke pipes and look at the horses. The Vanely stables boast many thorough-breds, and more than one racer in full training. St. John had that passion for fine horses characteristic of the soil, and with a corn-cob pipe between his lips, in the midst of a crowd of stable-boys, who respectfully greeted him as an old friend and favorite, discoursed at great length to Tom Alston on the points of the animals, as they were led out, and stepped proudly onward, in the sunshine. The last was a bay filly of elegant proportions, and this he ordered to be saddled for Bonnybel, whose property it was. Soon afterwards — Tom Alston having sauntered back to the drawing-room — the young man, mounted on his fine " Tallyho," was flying along a winding road of the Vanely woods by the side of his cousin. It is said that ball-rooms, parlors, and social haunts in general, are unpropitious for certain emotions. Either something distracts the attention or the atmosphere is unfavorable to romance. It is added that it is extremely dangerous, however, to a young man to ride alone, with a lovely cousin in a beautiful forest. In the case of Harry St. John this proved true. After that ride, he felt with a sort of fearful happiness, a rueful delight, that his fate was sealed. As they galloped on, his eyes were unconsciously riveted on the mischievous little beauty, who, with rosy cheeks and rippling curls, and slen- der figure, undulating in the close-fitting riding-habit, re- sembled rather a wild nymph of the woods than a mortal MISS BONNY BEL. 89 maiden. Every word she uttered was a jest or an excla^ mation ; she performed ? thousand antics on her steed ; the very spirit of the laughing audacious spring seemed to flush her blood. The perfume of a thousand flowers crammed the balmy air with fragrance ; the birds sang joyfully from the oakes and pines; the leaves whispered in the river breeze, and cast a fitful shadow on them as they moved. Our chronicle would grow to ponderous length, if we paused to record the witty nothings uttered by Miss Bonny- bel ; her careless and sparkling jests, pointed with laughter, and bright glances of coquettish eyes. We must leave the conversation unrecorded. All lived, however, in the young man's recollection, and this ride became one of the most de- lightful treasures of his memory. Three hours were spent thus ; then the heads of the horses were turned toward home. At the great gate they encoun- tered the chariot, and were gaily greeted by the jovial old colonel, who had been detained over night at the house of one of his neighbors. They stopped but a moment ; leaving the ponderous chariot to follow at its leisure, they sped up the hill, and the foam- ing horses were checked before the great portico. In helping the young lady to the ground, St. John did even more than his duty. He quietly took her in his arras and lifted her from the saddle, receiving a box on the cheek for his pains, given and received with laughter. Bonnybel then gathered her long skirt in her hand, and ran up stairs to her chamber. It might have been supposed that her object was to lay aside her habit, but her first pro- ceeding was singular. She went to the large mirror, turned herself from side to side before it, surveying, from every point of view, her graceful face, her curls, her cheeks, her very dimples ; then, with a proud and triumphant toss of her little head, and a confidential nod, the maiden threw aside her chip hat, and letting fall her beautiful brown hair uttered a low laugh. Can any of our fair readers tell us what she meant? 90 MISS BONNYBEL. CHAPTER XVI. THE NEWS FROM BOSTON. The profuse dinner is nearly over, and nothing remains upon the wide table but the nuts and wine. Leaning one arm upon the board, and pushing about the port and Canary, Colonel Vane, with features which gradu- ally flush with anger, addresses the two young men : " Yes, gentlemen, you have a right to be astonished !" he says, " and I share your astonishment." " But 't is not in the last c Gazette,' " says Mr. St. John. " How could the intelligence have arrived ?" " Well, it arrived through a private channel, but a reli- able one. An emissary, who never deceives, announced it yesterday at the court house, and there is no longer any doubt of it. Yes, things at last approach an issue. Gov- ernment enacts that, after the first day of June, the harbor of Boston shall be closed by armed troops, her shipping shall rot in the bay, her streets be thronged with red coats, and martial law prevail ! What think you, gentlemen of the colony of Virginia, of this blow at our beloved sister province of Massachusetts Bay ?" " I think 't is a despotic and base exercise of power " says St. John, " and I 'd resist at all hazards." " And I agree with you, Harry," says Mr. Alston, " to the letter." " You are right, gentlemen," said the old planter ; " and no North American can see Massachusetts holding out her hand without aiding her. Whatever touches her, touches Virginia, nay, touches all the colonies, for this tyrannical edict is but the entering wedge ! If it does not arm the colonies, then they will lie down in chains for ever ! Miser- able and woful times ! tyrants and knaves banded against honest men !" cries the old gentleman, dashing down his glass, wrathfully. " I '11 buckle on my sword and fight for MISS BONInYBEL. 91 the cause in the ranks, as a common soldier, before I'll forget that I 'm a Virginia gentleman, and grovel in the dust, and lick the boots of North and his yelping beagles. And not even tyrannical edicts will answer ! We are to be whipped into submission by this General Gage, commander of his Majesty's forces in the provinces ! He is to cut and hack us to pieces if we dare to murmur ! By Heaven ! we are slaves indeed ! We, the descendants of Englishmen, with the strong arms of our forefathers, and their liberty as Brit- ish subjects! We who fought for the king on a hundred battle fields, and poured out our best blood like water for our sovereigns ; sovereigns that never gave us any thing to bind our wounds, although we served them generation after generation, as kings were never served ! We Englishmen are to be trodden down and trampled on like a pack of curs, and whipped back to our places by this body of time servers, who are rolling yonder in their wealth, and making laws to bind the chains upon our limbs, as though we were their serfs ! Damn my blood !" cries the colonel, striking the table with his fist, " I '11 give half my estate to arm a com- pany, and I '11 march myself at the head of it, if Cato has to hold me on my crutches." During the course of this explosive address, which was terminated by a sudden attack upon the colonel's foot by his old enemy, Mr. St. John leaned back in his seat, and, with folded arms, revolved, in the depth of his mind, the significance of this new blow at the colonies. Was it not foreseen or even reported by its movers, by secret dispatches to Lord Dunmore, and had not this fact something to do with the existence of his Excellency's " guards" at the palace gate — soldiers who recognized no other allegiance than that due to their master, and who, if need be, would be employed to awe the inhabitants of Wil- liamsburg and the House of Burgesses ? And he was the commander of this body! He who swore by the code which the old gentleman had just pro- claimed, who rated his dignity of honest gentleman as 92 MISS JiONNYBEL, high as that of a peer of the realm, who was ready to pour out his blood for the preservation of his most trivial right — he, Henry St. John, was in the pay of his Excel, lency ! The young man's brow clouded and his eyes flashed. " You are right, uncle," he said, " 't is a bitter draught they hold to our lips and expect us to drink. I predict that this act will open the eyes of the inhabitants of this colony, and that there will soon be a struggle for supremacy with Lord Dunmore. In that cause, I, for one, know which side I '11 be ranged on. I 've long felt that my position yonder was slavery, and nothing but disinclination to retreat from my post in the service of the government, threatened with Indian troubles, has kept me from resigning what has come to be a menial's miserable routine ! Lord Dunmore has de- ceived me, sir, in a manner wholly unworthy of a gentleman, and I '11 tell him so, if need be. Yes, sir ! if the struggle 's here in Virginia, I '11 myself cheerfully brace on my sword, and strike as hard blows as I 'm able in the contest against this detestable tyranny ! I am more than of your way of thinking, sir. For this body of men across the water to bo forcing down our throats every nauseous dose they choose ! binding us hand and foot with chains, no doubt to lash us the better, and so force us along the king's highway, drag- ging at our heels the lumbering parliament coach, with my Lord North and his family inside ! I '11 no more wear their harness than I '11 longer don the livery of his Excellency, which I 'm fixed to discard and throw from me, as a plague garment ! I '11 be no nobleman's dog, to hunt his prey and do his dirty work ; I '11 not be this man's lackey — a vulgar fellow, in my humble opinion, neither more nor less, and I '11 say it to his face, if I 'm provoked to it !" St. John stopped, red, angry and disdainful, thinking of the scene at the palace. " Well, well," said the colonel, relieved by his explosion, H let us not speak evil of dignitaries, Harry. I confess I do not like Lord Dunmore, but he is Governor." MISS BONNYBEL. 93 St. John made a motion of his head, indicating his willing ness to dismiss so distasteful a subject. " All I have to say, sir," he added, "is that things in Vir- ginia seem to be progressing, and we '11 probably have an act of Parliament for our own special behoof ere long." " Well, well," said the old gentleman, who seemed to re* gret his momentary outburst, " we shall .see." " If I am not much mistaken, sir, his Excellency will en- deavor to make us shut our eyes as long as possible, and use his skill to make us believe black 's white. Yes, sir, we shall see, and perhaps we shall do more — we shall fight !" There was silence after these words, and the colonel filled his glass and pushed the wine. "Perhaps we will not find in his lordship a tool of the ministry, Harry," he said, " and my old blood flushes up too hotly. I should set you youngsters a better example than rashness. You are already too full of fight. I remem- ber Lord Botetourt said to me one day that he 'd throw his appointment into the Atlantic rather than aid in enforc- ing upon Virginia a tyrannical regulation of Parliament ; and who knows but the like public spirit may exist in the bosom of Lord Dunmore ; at least 't is time lost to specu- late at present. Let us hold in, and watch the action of the House of Burgesses. If they proceed to the resolves which become them, they will come to a point, and his Excellency will have to show his hand." " Yes, sir," said St. John, " and I predict that you'll see a card up his sleeve." The old gentleman smiled. "Well, well, Harry," he said, "we won't charge him with cheating till we see it ; and then it will be time enough to outlaw him. Thank Heaven, we have noble players in the game ! There's Bland, and Pendleton, and Harrison, and Henry, a host in themselves, especially this last, who 's an absolute thunderbolt. There 's Lee, and Randolph, and Nicholas, and Cary, all gentlemen of conspicuous talents. Mr. Jefferson from the mountains, too, goes, I 'm told, all 94 MISS BONNYBEL. lengths, and is of extraordinary political genius. We must not forget Colonel Washington, whose fine house at Mount Vernon is so delightfully situated on the Potomac. You know how heroically he fought in the expedition against Fort Duquesne, in which I am told he gave General Brad- dock advice which it had been well for that ill-fated gen- tleman to 've taken. Certainly Colonel Washington is of admirable presence, and there is I know not what of majes- ty in his deportment, and grandeur in the carriage of nis head. I think we have a worthy body of gentlemen en- gaged at present in our public affairs, and history may yet dwell on our period and its characters, and future genera- tions may erect statues to these patriotic leaders of opinion. Certainly they do seem to possess remarkable unanimity in distrusting his lordship. But let us wait, Harry, and not try his Excellency before he is caught with the bloody hand — an unfortunate illustration I have fallen on, but — " " It 's apt, sir." The colonel shook his head in a good-humored way and smiled. " No, no, Harry," he said, " let us be just to all men ; let us not forget that moderation is the most fatal enemy of despotism, until it throws off its disguise. Then there 'a time enough to gird on the sword. My preaching and practicing are, I confess, somewhat different on the present occasion, and I 've set you a bad exampje. But the old hound growls the loudest, you know, because he 's got no teeth, and thinks every shadow reason for alarm. There, there, Harry, let us leave all this to the future, and to that Almighty Power in whose hand are the balances of fate— the issue of peace and war!" &t. John bowed his head, and was silent. "I '11 go take my nap now, boys," added the old gentle- man, smiling pleasantly ; "that road to the river 's all fixed, and I shall sleep with a good conscience, and have pleasant dreams, I trust." Having delivered himself of this good-humored speech, MISS BONNYBEL. 95 the old gentleman emptied the remainder of his glass of Canary, and, assisted by Bonny I) el, who ran to give him hei shoulder, limped from the room into the library upon the opposite side of the hall. Here, composing himself comfortably in his customary arm-chair, with the gouty foot across another, the worthy colonel covered his face with a copy of the " Virginia Ga- zette," and very soon was slumbering like an infant. CHAPTER XVII. THE MODEL OF A PERFECT LOYEB. We have repeated the conversation upon the subject of the new Act of Parliament, and we now proceed to say, that at Vanely, as elsewhere in that earnest period, action followed theory. When the family descended on the next morning, they saw ranged in a long row upon the sideboard, the japanned tea-canisters of the house, all hermetically sealed, with the Vanely seal upon the wax.* This ceremony had been performed by Miss Bonnybel, under the colonel's supervision, and from that time forth, until the end of the revolutionary troubles, no tea was drunk at Vanely, as happened at a thousand other places all over the colony. After breakfast, Mr. St. John and the colonel went to witness some operations upon the lands, and Mr. Alston, as usual, betook himself to the sitting-room. We have busied ourselves so exclusively with the say« ings and doings of two personages of our story, that Mr. Thomas Alston's adventures have not been even adverted to. We say adventures, for during all these hours at Vanely * Historical Illustrations, No. YL MISS BONNYBEL. Mr. Alston has been far from idle, and has vigorously ap- plied himself to the prosecution of an undertaking which we have scarcely hinted. Let us still forbear to intrude upon this gentleman's pri- vate interviews with his friend ; let us respectfully retreat when he closes, on this eventful morning, the sitting-room door upon himself and that friend ; let us go and return with. Mr. St. John and Colonel Vane, who get back in their light carriage after an hour or t wo. Mr, Alston's sulky stands at the door — his horse's head held respectfully by a groom. To the colonel's question, whether Mr. Alston intends to depart, his friend, Mr. St. John, replies that he has not been advised of such intention ; and learning soon that his friend has gone up stairs, he follows him, and finds him there. Mr. Alston is seated in an easy-chair, with one foot upon the window sill, the other being elegantly thrown over his knee He is gazing philosophically out upon the landscape, and nods with tranquil greeting to his friend. " What, Tom !" St. John says, " surely you 're not going away : seeing your sulky — " " Yes, I think I '11 go, Harry, my boy," says Mr. Alston, leaning back easily. "Why, pray?" "For two reasons." " Name them, in order that I may instantly refute them." A serene smile wanders over Mr. Tom Alston's counte- nance, and he regards his friend with quiet superiority, as of one impregnable. •* Do you think you '11 be able, Harry, my boy ?" he asks, " I am confident of it." Mr. Alston smiles and shakes his head. " Come, speak !" says St. John. " Tou want my reasons ?" " Yes, both at once, if you choose." MISS BONNYBEL. i L prefer mentioning them in succession, Harry," says Mr. Alston, "if it 's all the same." " Entirely : well the first ?" " My first reason for departing from this elegant abode of the muses and the graces," says Mr. Alston, eloquently, "is the absolute necessity I'm under of procuring a clean frill, let us say. Can you answer that ?" " Easily — you know my whole wardrobe 's at your service." Mr. Alston shakes his head in the old way. " Unfortunately your garments do not fit me, Harry," he replies, " and nothing but regard for your feelings has pre- vented me from revealing the misery I 've experienced from the frill I borrowed of you yesterday." "Why, there 's none better in London !" " You 're deceiving yourself, my dear friend — you do in- deed !" says Mr. Alston, almost earnestly ; " indeed you are mistaken ! Were it not from regard for your friendship I should feel compelled to say that your linen's absolutely terrible !" St. John laughs. " Well," he says, " there's no appealing from a matter of taste. Mutato nomine de te, you know, and I '11 wager that the weaknesses in my own wardrobe are shared by your own. But there remains the reason in reply, that you may easily have clothes brought to you from Moorefield." "I fear not." "Why ?" " They would necessarily be rumpled, and to wear a rum- pled frill plunges me into untold agony." " Hang it, Tom," says St. John, laughing, " you 'ro really the most perfect maccaroni I have ever seen. There 's no arguing with such a fop — dyed in the grain !"