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Whenever possible, these have been omitted from filming/ II se peut que certaines pages blanches ajoutdes lors d'une restauration apparaissent dans le texte, mais, lorsque cela dtait possible, ces pages n'ont pas 6t6 film^es. I — I Only edition available/ D Seule Edition disponible Pages wholly or partially obscured by errata slips, tissues, etc., have been refilmed to ensure the best possible image/ Les pages totp 1 '^•-«'^-^-x.>.. NEW YORK: P. J. KENEDY, EXCELSIOR CATHOLIC PUBLISHING HOUSE, 5 BARCLAY STREET. 1895. % %. Copyright : D. & J. SADLIER & CO. 1885. it C ONTENTS. CHAPTER I. MATTERS APPERTAININO TO TUK WORLD OP FASHION. - CHAPTER II. BKIXa A CHAPTER OX THK WHOLE ART OP 8H0PPIN0 OR ttUoPPINO MADE EA8r, - - . ''""'^"'**'' *^« CHA.PTER III. FINANCIAL DIPLOMACY AND A FRENCH LESSON, . . CHAPTER IV. BHEINFELDT UOUSE-TASTE BUT NOT FASHION, . . CHAPTER V. A FASHrON..rtLE WEDDINO, WITH OTHER MATTERS THERFTO APPERTAINING, - . . '*»*''«» JrUERfcTO CHAPTER VI. MORNI.NO CALI^ AT RHEINFELDT HOUSE, CHAPTER VII. A SERENADE AND SOME NEW ACQUAINTAXCKS, . . CHAPTER VIII. N KPOOU IN THE GALLAGHER ANNALS, ... CHAPTER IX, k MORNING AT RHEINFELDT HOISE CHAPTER X. THE CAR OP TKIUSinL TWO NICE YOUVO MEV Avn i BOUGH CUSTOMKR. . . ^^' ^^^ ^ PAQI 9 81 63 73 93 112 181 150 170 100 t ! \ I fi CONTENTS. CHAPTER XI. PAOE HAKP-STKIKCW AND 'JKAKT-STIMNUS, ... - 209 ClIArTER XII. ADTKILSITY IS NOT ALWAYS MISKOinXNE, ... 228 CIIAPTEU XIII. ABOUT NOTUINO — AND A FAMILY POllTUAIT, • - • 24 CHAPTER XIV. AN ASTOUNDING DISCOVEKY — AND A WKUDIXO, • . 267 CHAPTER XV. THINGS IN GKNERAL AM) SOMKIIIING IN PAUTICULAB, - 288 CHAPTER XVI. A WEDDING — GOING TO SAltATOGA, AND WHAT S IN A NAME, 308 CHAPTER XVII. MCLATING CHIEFLY TO THE I'A.ST, ..... 328 CHAPTER XVIII. THE DUUId's CHAIR, - 349 CHAPTER XIX. DECIDEDLY HYMENEAL, ..----- 368 CHAPTER XX. LIGHT ON THE PICTURE, 386 CHAPTER XXI. THE GALLAGHERS UNDER A CLOUD, .... 408 CHAPTER XXII. 1 XPLANATORY AND SATISKACIOUY, ..... 42T CHAPTER XXHI. MATTERS IN GENEIUI, ... - . . 448 CHAPTER XXIV. BUOn AND SWEET, - 4G8 CONCLVRION, . « . - • • 47< I i OLD AND NEW; OR, TASTE VERSUS FASHION, CHAPTER I. MATTERS APPERTAINING TO THE WORLD OF FASHION. About forty years ago there stood in one of the **up-town'' streets crossing the avenues, and but a lew doors from one of them, a two-story brick house, which, in a less pretentious neighborhood, would have passed for a tolerably decent dwelling, which rank it once indubitably held. Unluckily for the peace and contentment of its occupants, two brown-stone houses, one of three, and the other of no less than four stories, had provokingly reared them- selves on either side, throwing our humble " two-story brick" altogether into the shade. Had they been plain houses the matter had not been quite so bad, but their respective owners were not men to put up plain houses; one of them was a butcher, and the other a baker in the vicinity, who having catered for the creature-comforts of the public to some par* f( .0 OLD AND SK\^ ; OR, pose, found themselves in possession of bank-booki representing a good round sum in hard specie. The money was vested in two of the ohlest and safest banks in the city, the butcher's book aforesaid bearing on its cover the responsible name of the C/ic/;iim/, whilst the baker's displayed theequally well- accredited name of the Mechanics^ Bunk. This was very well and very safe, and all that, but all at once he of the CheynicaJ took it into his head that a bank- book wasn't much to look at, after all, and so he began to open his ear to the persuasive accents of his wife and daughters who had been long urging him to build a house for them. He had held out manfully for a year or two after the last of his six daughters came home from boarding-school freighted with the usual load of " accomplishments," but at last the seven " feminines" came down on him with the parallel case (fished from the items of a daily paper) of '* some old fogy somewhere or another that had a whole mint of money framed up in his parlor in a bank-bill." The butcher had never read of the amiable patriarch of English literati,* who, in our own day, so far broke the charm that makes poverty and literary pursuits all but synonymous, but there was no getting over the triumphant argu- ment adduced by the " Seven Champions :" " What earthly use was that bill to that old fellow, and ♦ The late Samuel Rogers, who, as is well-known, had a mii- lion-pound-note of the Bank of England framed (I believe) io bis drawing-room. . . . > . • TASTK VFRSrs TASHTOV. 11 wasn't it just the same with his little hook f Wouldn't it he hetter for him to have the money in the walls of a nice house that would he a credit to himself and his family after him ?" The hutchef gave in, the Chfitnicnl had its deposits lessened hy twenty thousand dollars, but the house went up in a style of splendor befitting the ambitious preten- sions of the famil" to whose '• cre yre," was it stated 'il; to scold 't )ne mind "'■'•: olubility as really lish that le other solemnly ■t* that wa .\> for NeA» i with it? ■•jf telligent ave up a -'; » rather n-r-least of all with his daughters. There was a half smiU on his calm features as he listened to the eager chorus of excuse : " You mean," said he, but there he stopped : he was going to say " you mean you're all too busy watchinor Tom Gallasrher's new house to find time for anything else." He didn't say it, though, know- ing by dear-bought experience that to raise a storm was easier than to quell it. From what we have said, it is plain enough that the Miss Hacketts had no hope of ever seeing theii humble " two-story brick" expanding, or being trans- formed into a three-story brown either plain or orna- mental — if they had, the barbed shaft of envy would not have penetrated their hearts so deeply, but, as it was, they could only blame their hard fortune — and " them upsetting things, the Gallaghers." The only real consolation they had in their affliction was that their neighbor on the other side, No. 70, was a wooden building no higher than their own, and in much worse condition, the lower part being occupied as a carpenter's shop, while the carpenter's family lived up stairs. Even this slender ray of comfort was soon clouded : a small square board covered with white paper was one morning hung over the door, and on it, in frightfully large letters, the ominous words For Sale — this property for sale. This new source of anxiety in some measure diverted the young ladies* attention from the other ■ide, and they lived for soii\e "keek's" in a state of 4 I t ,1 16 OLD ANT) NEW ; OR, It I f I' f I Si! 1)1 111,! 1 ! I.!- I! ! 1 »^| I i I harrowiDg suspense, alternating between fear and ho^pe— fear that some aspiring individual from " down-town" or elsewhere might take it in head to put up another fashionable residence on No. 70— hope that the poor old tenement might be left as it was and used as a place of business. Alas ! the hope was soon dispelled, and the fear became a dread and awful certainty. The old house was pulled down, and from the magnitude of the pre- parations immediately set on foot it was clear that the new proprietor was going to make No. 70 outdo No. 66. What, then, was to become of the Hacketts in their unluoky " two-story brick," right between two palatial mansions of brown stone ? It is beyond our poor ability to describe the sensations with which the sisters three watched the progress of No. 70, keeping an eye at the same time on the gorgeous " finishing" of 66, as indicated by the protracted labors of stucco-men, painters, gilders, glass-stainers and upholsterers. To crown all they found that the new owner of No. 70 was their own baker, Mr. William H. Fogarty, whose only daughter Julia had also been their school-companion ! What made the young ladies' affliction still more pitiable was that they were forced to compress it within the limits of their own fair bosoms. They well knew how little sympathy they had to expect from their father, or rather their " pa," who was certainly '* the queerest man living, and had no more spirit thaD a cfoal-heftver"— 80 they said :-«e for their bro TASTE VERSUS TASHION. n kinei'8 that Mr. Julia spirit bro- ther Michael he would only laugh at their distress they knew thai well, too, for Michael, notwithstand ing his pale, melancholy visage, had quite a fund of dry humor in his composition, and generally contrived to give a ridiculous turn to the things that most interested his sisters. Sometimes he affected to condole with them in their tribulation of spirit, but it was only to draw them out and furnish matter for his own private amusement. A quaint, preco- cious little fellow Michael was, undoubtedly, and to do him justice, he had more brains in his head than his three sisters put together. The share of good seflse that belonged to the family was about equally divided between the father and son, the trifling ad- vantage which the latter might possibly have, being counterbalanced by the former's fifty odd years of additional experience. Michael's talents, such as they were, had received comparatively little aid from education ; the poor lad was taken from school at fourteen, when his mother died, and his services were found so indispensable in the store that his father felt himself under the necessity of keeping him there, the more so as he himself was often absent for hours at a time attending auction sales " down town." It was not without regret that Henry Hackett thus sacrificed his son's opportuni- ties of acquiring that knowledge which, after all, ii power, and he reproached himself — very unjustly, however, with " making the boy a j^lave to them good-for-nothing girls of his, and keeping him from 18 OLD AND NEW ; OR, I.,. getting the learning that might make a man of him because he had the head to keep it, if he got it, and the sense to make good use of it, not all as one ! The last words somehow had the effect of putting the sisters into that portentous state, commonly called " high dudgeon," elevating their noses to a perfect " snub," and bringing their " brent brows" into most unseemly proximity. If there was any one domestic topic that grated on the sensitive ears of the Miss Hacketts more than another, it was the enumeration of Michael's good qualities on the part of their respected parent, and the Jeremiad thereto appended concerning the undue share of labor and application that necessarily devolved on him, partly as a consequence of other people's gadding propen- sities and general dislike of anything approaching to industry. The girls f(r)und three caps in this brief homily that fitted themselves to a hair, and they were not slow in appropriating them ; whereupon the waters of domestic peace were grievously troubled until some concession from the father, or, just as often, the assumption of a little salutary severity, restored a temporary calm. So much for domestic affairs, but the foreign were, after all, what most disturbed the Hackett family and inflicted the deepest wound on their heart of hearts. Everything that was from within could and might be tolerated ; " pa's stinginess'^ and " Michael's odd ways" (in- cluding, of course, his provoking industry), inas- much as they couldn't be got over, had to be put all! TASTE VERSUS FASHlftK. 19 ap with, but to think of the Gallaghers and the Fogartys building such splendid houses right on each side of them; and what harm if they — the Miss Hacketts, that is — had only a decent house — if they had, they wouldn't care " a snap" — as they elegantly phrased it — but such ^n old rookery of a place, old faded bricks, and common white shutters ! and only two stones high ! — why, really, the house wasn't fit to be seen — it was a show to the world — and, they didn't care, if pa had only the least little mite of spirit he wouldn't have his daughters in such a mean place. " And us finished and home from school !" sug- gested Ann Wilhelmina, the second. "Just so," chimed in Mary Clementina, the young- est, while Sarah Eugenia, the eldest, added again by way of capping the climax : " And us keeping but one girl, and there they'll be having two or three, or perhaps four." " And all the fashionable ladies and gents that'll be coming to visit them in those grand houses, and us hasn't a soul to come in or out that there's the least bit of style about. Oh dear ! a'nt it shocking ! what shall we do ?'* " I'll tell you what it is," said Ann Wilhelmina low- erinrj her voice to a confidential whisper, " pa*8 real mean, after all, or he'd get some improvements made on this old shanty — it wouldn't cost him n\uch to do tluit .'" "I guess not," responded the eldest sister, " but ^ mmt m < i ' I ■ \ ill Ill li % !• j' ,> I M 'H! SO OLD AND NEW ; OR, then it a*nt any use to ask him, you know; he'd only get mad and tell us to hold our tongue and put such notions out of our head ! Oh dear ! what a misfortune it is to have such an old grub of a father 1" Having delivered themselves of this dutiful senti- ment, the sisters heaved a simultaneous sigh and went their ways, Sarah Eugenia to tell Nora, their maid-of-all-work, to " get the tea," Ann Wilhelmina to finish James' last novel (poor G. P. R. was then in the zenith of his fame, or a little beyond it), whilst Mary Clementina with a languid yawn took up her frame with the heroic purpose of trying to finish •* that nasty leaf" of which she was so heartily tired, and little wonder, seeing that she had been at it off and on for the last three days consecutively. It may be well to observe eri passant — lest the reader should give Henry Hackett and his son credit for more patience than fell to their lot — U.j.t the im- posing cognomens by which the girls chose to ad- dress each other were considerably abridged in the mouths of their male relatives. The fact was that the second names borne by each of the young ladies were not baptismal nor yet confirmation names, be ing simply what is called fancy-names, dating from an early stage of their boarding school days. With ** pa" and Michael, the girls were still — to their un- speakable annoyance — the Sally, Ann and Mary of their first years ; and, still more shocking to relate there were times when their father actually forgot TASTK VERSUS FA8HI0W. 21 r; he'd ;ue and ! what lb of a 1 senti- gh and a, their lelmina 18 then , whilst up her finish y tired, It it off lest the credit im- to ad- in the IS that ladies es, be from With ir un- ary of relate forgot the hirriself so far as to hail them with the odious patro- nymics of Sal, Nancy, or Moll — that, too, before company. If he would only " Behave himsel' before folk" they might have forgiven him, but to expose his vulgarity in such a way when strangers were present, and give them such nasty low names — that they could not, and would not get over — for what could folks think of the whole connection hearing the head of the house talk in that fashion ? Sometimes Michael affected to sympathize with them, and even went so far as to remonstrate with his father on his total disregard of the young ladies* feelings. Certain looks and gestures were exchanged between the two, and both promised amendment. Unluckily, the ag- grieved parties were not long in finding out that the amendment was no amendment at all, and that, in fact, the cure was worse than the disease. The very first time that company came in of an evening — and as ill luck would have it, who should the visitors be but their new neighbors the Fogartys, father, mother and daughter — what was the consternation of the trio to hear themselves addressed by their father and brother U8 often as they had occasion to speak to them as " Miss Sarah Eugenia," " Miss Ann Wil-hel* mi-na" and " Miss Mary Cle-men-ti-na !" Every syl* labie and every letter being brought out with the full round articulation of the soft Munster accent. Had the Fogartys boeu less kind aad cfouBid^^raU S3 OLD AND NEW ; OB, II '1 i| ! than they really were the Hackett sisters would have suft'ered excruciating torture during the even- ing — as it was they " felt like sinking through tho ground" as often as they heard the ominous length of name repeated — which happened they thought unusually often, too — they didn't make the descent, however, to which they felt inclined, but remained above ground to endure, though it must be owned with a very ill grace, the punishment of their own folly. The Fogartys were at first disposed to laugh heartily at what they naturally supposed this new whim of Henry Hackett's, but when that worthy man apprised them by a knowing wink, accompanied by an expressive gesture, of the corrective object of the ludicrously-long names, they made an eflbrt to maintain their gravity, and succeeded so well that one would think they heard nothing strange going on. The confusion of the three sisters was truly pitiable under the first half-hour's infliction, but after that, finding that their really good-natured visitors either took, or appeared to take, no notice of the parental vagary, they gradually recovered something like their usual confidence, and played and sang to their own unbounded satisfaction, and, indeed, to the great admiration of their father and brother, who were reasonably proud of their accom- plishments. The Fogartys had not yet moved into their new house at which, they said, tllere was a good three TASTE VERSUS FASHIOX. 23 jrs would the even- rough the >U8 length f thought e descent, remained be owned their own to laugh this new at worthy lompanied ! object of eftbrt to well that ige going was truly Jtion, but d-natured no notice ecovered d played ion, and, ther and r accoin* heir new od three months' work yet before they could begin to furnish it. " I tell you what it is, Henry/' said William H., a sharp, thin-faced man, with a suspiciously-black and curled head of hair, by no means in keeping with the fifty-five or perhaps sixty years indicated by the deep lines of his somewhat peculiar countenance, " I'll tell you what it is, it's no joke to put up a house like that in New York City.*' " And then the furnishing of it after that again," said Hackett; "you must have done a first-rate business to put so much money together — and you're a young man yet, Mr. Fogarty !" "Not so young as you'd think," put in Mrs. Fogarty rather quickly ; " there's some people bears their age so well that you can scarce tell when age is on them— but you may take my word for it, Billy Fogarty is no chicken.'* " Chicken or no chicken, ma'am, he's no goo^t anyhow," said Hackett with sly meaning, " if ho was he wouldn't be the man he is to-day !" " To-night, father," suggested Michael. " Well ! night or day, it's all one in regard to what I*m saying, Michael ! Nobody can deny but Mr. Fogarty was born with a silver spoon in his mouth." " Much about his silver spoon," said his wife again, •< if it wasn't for the good help he had, I'd like to see how far his silver spoon would carry him !" '* God knows you eay the truth, Ellen,** said I •Ml i ill 1.1 i K 'ill I ! Ill lil!|i I'l ill It;!} I in! li'it m ^ ': 24 OLD AND NEW ; OR, Fogarty turning a softened lock on his wife, " I had the best of help, and that's a fact. I made the money, it's true, but I know who kept it together when it was made." " Well ! Billy, my dear, we both did our phare," said the wife complacently, " and God has prospered our little endeavors. But you must know, Mr. Hackett, I didn't give Fogarty the first start — he had a nice penny by him when w^e came together." " Dear me !*' said Miss Sarah Eugenia Hackett 7ery innocently, " I shouldn't have thought it ?" Her sisters tittered in evident appreciation of the •oke, Julia Fogarty looked grave, her father pulled up his shirt-collar with an air, but the good woman herself answered with perfect composure and in perfect good faith : "I declare I often wonder how he did come to marry me, for I had scarce a decent dress to my back, let alone money, and, to be sure, it wasn't for my beauty " All the youngsters laughed out at this, for Mrs. Fogarty was — " blessed be the Maker !" as her neighbors used to say — " as homely a woman as you'd see in a congregation." Even her own daughter enjoyed the joke, the more so, as her mother was quite in earnest in her good-natured observation, and was, moreover, very much in the habit of repeating the same thing, whether from bumility, or a seicr^t oonsoionfiness that if she k^i TASTE VBRSFfl FASHION. 25 no sightliness to boast of she had other qualities more valuable if less attractive. " Upon my word, Mrs. Fogarty !" began Henrj Ilackett with the puzzled look of one who was cast- ing about in his own mind for something to say (( Nonsense, man, don't mind her," said William H., cutting him short — "she's only fishing for a compli- ment. She wants some of us to say that * beauty is but skin deep,' and * doesn't make the pot boil brown !' — as you often say yourself, Ellen, honey, * pretty is that pretty does,' and, judging by that rule, I've as pretty a wife as any going. Haven't I, Ellen ? What are you laughing at, girls, there behind backs ?" " Look in the glass and you'll see !" said his wife a little maliciously — in her heart she was not so thoroughly convinced of her own deficiencies on the score of good looks, but that she could swallow a little compliment, if any one stretched politeness so far as to offer it — and she did not much relish her husband's over-ready admissions in regard to her appearance. The hasty glance that William H. threw, in con- sequence, on the small mahogany-framed mirror opposite which he sat was more than sufficient to bring the hot blood to his somewhat sallow visage. Reflected on the dark surface of the glass was him- self in the foreground, with his rather dandified wig Bet in such comical fashion on his head, that nearly one-half of the cmnium was exposed, bearing a shorn m '!li; :i : i^ I ■■■•I 16 OLD AND NEW ; OR, crop ot silver-gray stubble that contrasted as oddlj as could be with the dark luxuriance (as the novel- ists would say) of the other section of the sphere. The background of the picture was occupied by four saucy, grinning faces, of which his own daughter's was the most provokingly mischievous. Arranging the disordered chevelure with the greatest dispatch possible, Mr. Fogarty turned angrily to his daugh- ter, whose look became suddenly quite demure • " I say, Julia ! was that your work ?" *' My work ! why, pa ! how can you think so ? La ! you did it yourself when you reached your snuff-box that time to Mr. Hackett — you did, iudeed, pa !" " I tell you I didn't," said the father still more sharply. " I know you, my lady ! you and your mother are always plotting mischief, and playing tricks on me—" " My goodness gracious, Billy Fogarty ! ' cried his wife bristling up, " you needn't be making such a time about your wig getting crooked on you! — what if Julia did give it a shove — sure everybody knows that dandy black brush-top isn't your owa Upon my credit !" she added in a sort of parenthe- sis, " it's my opinioi* he hadn't a black hair on his poll these ten years. Why, man ! you needn't look BO black — depend upon it, you'll not be coming here, or anywhere else, for a second wife, if / can help it l—ha ! ha ! ha !" The good woman's laugh was left to herself, for TASTE VERSUS PASniON. WilUcOm II.'s vexation was too real an«l too evident for the others to keep up the jnlce. " How much did that hou.^e of yours cost, Mr. Fogarty ?" said Huckett abruptly, with a view to change the current of his ideas. " I'd be ahnost ashamed to tell you, Henry," the baker replied with a sullen glance at his wife, who was still chuckling over his mishap. " It was these confounded women that got me into it — nothing would serve them, but they must have a fashionable house near the avenue, and I had neither peace noi rest till I bought the lot and went to work. Th : house that would suit me didn't suit them, and they kept at me ding-dong, and at the architect, too, till the house grew to a size that I never intended, and, with all the jig-a-ma-rees they got on it, cost me the most of what ready money I had in bank. I don't believe IMl have enough to finish it without going in debt. And then there's the furniture to come after — for, of course," he added jeeringly, " the furniture we had in our snug old house 'vouldn't answer at all for our grand new one." " Well ! father, how you talk !" said Julia, red- dening to the eyes. Her mother took up her bon- net with a scornful glance at her husband, and a muttered exclamation about some people having thft buttermilk in them — the which in the peculiar phra ecology of her class in Ireland means anything but a oompliment. I; ! ■ (' ili \'' l!i!^ I't !! IHl mi I r li.!. .4 i:;l: '■'' i;,!'^ I ■ I ' il 1' !!l I ' ! II it ' i 'Hi litii jl; S8 OLD AND NEW ; OR, Henry Hackett hastened to repair the nuptia; bread), as he well knew how : " Do you know, Mr. Fogarty !*' said he, very gravely, " I think the mistress and Miss Julia were in the right — what for wouldn't you have at least as good a house as Tom Gallagher ? Everybody knows who has the deepest purse, and the best credit in the bank, for all Tom does boast now and then when the glass is in, that he's a richer man than you are — though, as I said, every one knows how that matter stands, still it's v/ell for you to shut his mouth, and that's what you have done in regard to putting up such a house, you may say next door to his." A groan from one or all of the Miss Hacketts was here plainly audible. " You really think mine is the handsomest — eh, Harry ?" This y^^2JS> said in a tone of such tremulous anxiety that it was evident the speaker's whole heart was in the question. " Do I think it ? I dov^t think it, but I'm sure of it ! Hasn't yours them stone railings, whatever they call them, on two stories, and Tom's only on on«, and aren't you a full story higher, not to speak of other things in proportion ? I believe there isn't a house in the block like yours, putting one thing with another." " There now ! didn't I tell you so ?" cried the wife triumphantly. " You'll not deny but Mr Hackett is a good judge, and a wise man to boot TASTE VERSJS PASHION. 29 le nuptia; he, very Julia were at least as )dy knows \ credit in then when you are — lat matter louth, and utting up is." sketts was meat — eh, remulous lole heart n sure of whatever only on to speak lere isn't e thing ^ied the )ut Mr to boot i: and you hear what he says. Of course what !€« say goes for nothing !" " Never mind, Ellen dear !" said the mollified husband with more than restored good humor, " III let you and Julia choose the furniture yourselves." "And go in debt for it, pa?" asked Julia with a meaning glance at her young companions, on whose minds she wished to impress the fact that her father was not in earnest when ho spoke of his funds being exhausted. '* Debt or no debt," was the answer, " the house must be furnished ia good style. We can't have one thing making a fool of another, and we may as well be hanged for an old sheep as a young lamb. We^ll let Gallagher see who's tlie richest ^ " You must come and see us often when we get into the new house," said Mrs. Fogarty at the door witli quite an air of condescension. **Now do!" repeated Julia coaxingly, " we shall be «;• glad to see you." The Hackett girls promised, but the moment the ioor was closed the three girls laughed out in chorus, " Come and fie us often!" said Sarah Eu- genia in Mrs. Fogarty's very tone. " What a notion we have of it ! They just want to show oif their elegant house and furniture and all that, as if we were so green as not to know what theyVe up tol" "That's so like Julial— a»nt it?" subjoined 30 OLD AjfD NEW ; OR, Mary Clementina, with a prodigious yawn. " But really I»m so tired I can't keep my eyes open." " Pa" and Michael had already betaken them to their sleeping apartment, and the girls were not ■low to follow. if 'I'll » ■Ml) ! !i"!i t I't' TASTE VERSUS FASHION 31 a. " Bui >en." them to were not CHAPTER II. BKNG A CHAPTER ON THE WHOLE ART OF SiHOPPlNG, OR SHOPPING MADE EASY. To do the Gallaghers justice their household was conducted on more rational principles than either Fogarty's or Hackett's. The mother was a sharp, shrewd, active little woman, with a fair endowment of that valuable quality called " common sense." She was not, to be sure, overstocked with book- learning any more than her husband, who, having commenced life as a butcher's boy, was, it may well i'8 believed, a little behind on the score of educa- tion. Tom was a good-natured, fat, heavy-featured man, remarkably dull in comprehension, so much so, indeed, that it was matter of astonishment to all his acquaintances how he ever got to the sunny side of this dark world — in fact, it could only be accounted for by the visual darkness of the goddess who turns the wheel of man's destiny. Tom was ignorant — there is no denying that — illiterate, in- deed, he might be called, but Tom knew that hhn- Bclf, and although ignorance was certainly not bliss in his case, yet he never attempted to pass himself off for what he was not, and for that very reason, people spoke kindly, never harshly or contemptuously of his deficiency. His wife was a very different - ill 1 ,••■; i in fi f I' ) If ' f»; ■'•!* ;!;t ii'! id iMt il!!! i Hi!' ., :' 111 ' 'iil! If h ! fill '|! •Ii! I Ii ii'il lii 82 OLD AND NEW ; OR, person. More fortunate than be, she had " a little Bmattering of education/' just enough to enable her to read her prayer-book and write her own name — an accomplishment which, in her own case, was altogether superfluous, as the girls did all the writ- ing of the family. It vs^as easy done, for that mat* ter, as, apart from Tom's business, the accounts of which were kept by a certain Atty Fitzge?ald — commonly called Garrell — the private norrespond- ence of the house of Gallagher consisted in a letter at Christmas, and another at Easter, to an old aunt of Tom's in the county Clare, his sole surviving rela- tive. These letters, to Tom's credit be it said, were something more than mere sheets of paper covered with neat, fair characters ; they were meant for the Christmas-box and the Easter-gift, and were Bent accordingly lined with a draft for some five pounds sterling on the bank of Ireland, payable ij] Ennis. Mrs. Gallagher's relatives were all in Ame- rica, scattered here and there, and it so happened that none of them stood in need of assistance, though none had been so fortunate as herself in securing a fair share of this world's wealth. She had two sisters married to farmers out West, one in Wisconsin, the other in Illinois, and her only brother was a settler " Deep in Canadian woods," where the Ottawa rolls down his silver tide to swell the great St. Lawrence. His home was a pleasant TA8TK VERSUS FASHION. 33 ad " a littla enable her wn name — case, was 11 the writ- i' that mat* iccounts of itzge?ald — lorrespond- in a letter n old aunt reiving rela- be it said, I of paper ^ere meant , and were some five payable in II in Ame- happened assistance, herself in ilth. She 3st, one in y brother to swell pleasant farm-house in the fertile Ottawa Valley, and his daughters and his sons were growing up around him strong, fresh and healthy in the invigorating pur- suits of agricultural industry — far away from tha contaminating influence that abounds in cities. So good Mrs. Gallagher was in the habit of boasting that she hadn't a soul belonging to her that wasn't " getting along first-rate, and 'mbeholding to any one." Not that she meant this as a hint for Tom for Tom's old aunt in Clare had no more generous friend in the family than its bustling mistress — no, no, it was merely a good-natured, harmless boast, and as such Tom always took it and answered in the best possible good faith : " That's no lie, any- how — they're a well-doing set of people, and have a mighty great push in them." And so they were, and Mrs. Gallagher was as " well-doing'* as any of her kin. She had helped Tom well in the accumulation of their little fortune, and now that it was made siie had no desire to spend it foolishly, as she said her- self; she was just as willing to work then as she was years before when they were laying the founda- tions of their prosperity. Though a great lover of cleanliness and neatness, she kept but one servant, even after their removal to the new house, giving ic as her opinion that it would be a burning shame for seven women of them if they couldn't keep the house in proper order with one girl to do what out- door work there was, together with the washing and scrubbing. Her daughters grumbled no littln if ^■l\ lili! ;iit ■I 1! i| 'I ' 'I l!'f i II I i! ' IP! I ''[ I j ' (■ ii! I'M! j' i ! Ill r> m 1 "f I. 'I . I ! I lift! >!'ltl , I HI ■''Hli 84 OLD AND NEW : OR, when they first came home from school to find them* selves under the hard necessity of taking each a share of the household work; it was something that had never entered their calculations, and they felt morti- fied and indignant at being subjected to menial avo- cations after coming home from school. Of course, their " schooling-days" were not all begun or ended together. They were at school three by three. " If we thought this was to be the way of it," said Eliza, the eldest, taking upon her to speak for the others, after she and her two next younger sisters had left school, " I'm sure we needn't have been in such a hurry to get home. Better be study- ing aiid practising in school than working like niggers here at home." And the tears gushed from Eliza's large round eyes. " Eliza dear !" said her mother, " Pm sorry for your trouble, as the word says, but just tell me one thing. What did you mean to do with yourself when you'd get home ?" " " Mean to do !" said Fanny, the second sister, " why what woyld we mean to do ? What do all the young ladies do that come from school ?" "That's just v/hat I'd like to know myself," said the mother quickly, but still very composedly. " Why, dear me, ma ! I never thought you was BO stupid !" cried Eliza petulantly ; " don't every- body know that young ladies who have got a good education can't be toiling and drudging about the TA8TK VERSUS FASHION. u [ind tliem' bch a share ; that had I'elt morti- enial avo- Of course, or ended ;hree. ay of it,'* speak for younger dn't have be study- kiDg like 3hed from sorry for ill me one yourself id sister, at do all yi ? lelf," said dly. ' you was 't every- >t a good bout the house — if they did their hands wouldn't be fit to be seen, nor their clothes neither !" " But what are they to do?" persisted the mother who was busy polishing her parlor furniture. " la their good education to keep them from using thei'' hands?" " Why — why — ," said the girl, her eye falling be neath her mother's searching and halfquizzicai glance, " they can play the piano " " Well ?" " And sing sometimes "' " Very good, and what more '?" " Why my !" cried EUie, the third daughter, in a very saucy tone, " what's the use of such catechis- ing as that? Can't you tell her, Eliza, that they have got to do everything at home that they learned at school?" " Oh 1 I see," said the mother, looking from one to the other with a half smile on her thin face, " I see! — so because you hadn't a chance to polish fur- niture, or dust, or sweep, or cook, when you were at school, you are never to do any such things in your whole life ? Now who's to do all this for you?" " Why, servants to be sure !" " Ay, if you happen to have them ? But if you haven't, if your father is not able or not willing to keep them, who's to do the work then for this large family of ours ?'* *' Why, ma ! surely we can afford to keep enough S6 OLD ANI NEW ; OR, fii litll •I i H irjjlll , I mm liiiil'lj it.l of help to do all the work? What's the use of people being rich if they have to break their hearts working as you do all the time?" "i'wi not breaking my heart working, and I don't think work breaks any one's heart. But it's a folly to talk, girls ! so I'll just tell you the short and the long of it. Your father, maybe, isn't just as rich as you take him to be, and, at any rate, he'll not hear of keepin' more than one girl, so you see youVe got to work, whether you like it or no. And there's another thing to be said about it — I guess you'll all want to go out no worse than your neigh- bors in regard to dress?" *' Why, of course, ma ! we must look decent, or we can't go out at all." This simultaneous answer elicited an approving nod from the mother. " Well ! then, girls, if you want to dress well, you must work well — do you understand me now ?" " Yes, ma !" This response came forth in a tone very diiferent from the other. The two mono- syllables dragged each a heavy chain. " Well ! it's a bargain, is it ?" " Y — e — s, m — a !" letter by letter. " Up with you, then, and begin at once ! — get t/ou lo work, Eliza, to wash these windows, and let fanny do the closet in the next room." "And what shall /do, ma?'* inquired EUie, very demurely, glancing at her sisters, " I guess, I'm tc wash the dishes." M^i TASTE Vr,RSUS FASHIOK. 8r " Or take the part of Cinderella," suggested Eliza, " you're the youngest, you know, so y')u'U be ash- weuch." " None of* your humbugging now," said the mother, " I know what you're up to with your Cin- derellas — you'd all like to be jjrinccsses, and sit in state till some prince or another came along to pick you up, but as there's no fairy godmothers now-a- days it's the hard-working fathers and mothers that must pay the piper. Now I tell you again, my good ladies, if you want to wear silks and satins you must give a hand with the work." " My goodness, ma !" said Ellie, pouting, " I only asked was I to wash the dishes — I'm sure that was no harm." " I didn't ask you to wash the dishes," said her mother angrily, " you know I didn't, but there's a eight of stockings to be darned, and clothes to be mended, and I want you to do some of Ma^." Eliza groaned and turned up her eyes ; her sisters tittered and made wry faces at each other behind their mother's back, but they went to their several tasks notwithstanding, and from that day forward a part of each day was allotted to work, and it soon became so easy and natural to the girls to assist in managing the affairs of the house that what seemed at first an intolerable burden was at last a source of pleasure. When the other three sisters came homtt from school, they had just the same horror of house- hold work, and the same ground had to be gone 4 iii. 38 OIJ) AND NF.\T ; OR, I -(■' |!' 'I.I iiiii:!; I! over with them. The process was somewhat easier however, in their case, having the example of their elder sisters before their eyes, and finding from their detailed experience that there was no other way of " coming round pa, or ma either, so as to get what they wanted." "It a'nt any use trying to get out of it," said Eliza, with quite an oracular air, during a sisterly conclave held a day or two after Mag and Annie and Janie came home " for good" — " we tried every- thing, when we came home, but nothing would do ; pa and ma would have us work, whether we liked it or not, and, I tell you, we did ?iot like it, at first, but we got used to it after a while, and now we'd all aa soon do it as not — it a'nt any trouble to us now." " But, la me, only fancy us doing servants' work !" and Annie, half-crying, held out he*- little, soft plump hands, and looked at them with a most rueful expression of countenance. " Never mind, Annie !" said the elder sister, now becoming rather womanly, " never mind, we'll give you new-comers the lightest part of the work. You can choose for yourselves." " Well ! I know what Fll do," said Janie, in a shrill treble voice, shaking her liead knowingly at the same time, " Fll feed Tabby and wash Gumbo.''* Tabby was the venerable mouse-catcher, and Gumbo the canine pet of the household — a fat, squat little poodle. . The chorus of laughter that greeted Janie'i nm< Mi(n .:i'. iil >9TE VERSUS FASHION, S9 at easier of their I'om their r way of get what it," said I sisterly Lnnie and d every- ould do; e liked it first, but e'd all as now." •j' work !'* btle, soft )st rueful jter, now ve'U give rk. You nie, in a singly at u??ibo.''* her, and —a fat, Janie'a " ch( ice" by no means disconcerted the little maiden, who was tolerably self-possessed for a damsel of iitt(.'L'n. When her father was told that evening of tlie work which Jjuiie had allotted to herself, he laughed immoderately, and swore the child should have her way. " Don't let me see you grind /ler down with work, old woman !" he said to hia wife, *' or — or — you and Til quarrel ; she's but a child yet, and there's enough of you without her; so just let her practise her music and amuse herself a little — you'll get her in the traces soon enough, i'// go bail !" " I declare to the Lord, Tom Gallagher !" cried his wife, bristling up, *' you'd spoil all the children in New York City! A line house we'd have of it if you had your way." " Why, honest woman ! don't be in a passion ! you know well enough I never bother my head about your affairs; you and the girls have it all among yourselves ; I know you're a first-rate driver, but I don't want little Janie to be driven for another while ; just let her alone, and do as you like with the rest J) " Oh ! certainly, Tom, cer-tain-ly !" said the keen- witted matron with ironical emphasis, " I give you ray word I'll not ask Janie to do a hand's turn — we'll not spoil her growth, depend on it. It^s easy tee?i she^s a Gallagher.'''^ And so saying, Mrs. Gallagher flounced out of the room with a look of ineffable contempt at her good* af*^' mm mm ..!!., I,;!, I ! >■■ ')! ; H I!'!'!! M (I It I 1 lllpii iillllli i| !-, I(. it tt 11 ''Kill!': 40 OLD AND NEW ; OR, iiatured partner, who was in the habit of boasting that his youngest daughter — who was also the pret- tiest — was the dead image of a favorite sister of his that died when he was a boy. Tom was, as we have said, a good-natured man and if he didn't believe his wife always in the right he did believe that she was seldom in the wrong. Though his trade was V)lood, there was nothiiij* quarrelsome in his disposition, and he would make any personal sacrifice at any time to uphold the great principle of the hymn-book that . " Whatever brawls disturb the street There should be peace at liome." Tom knew nothing of Dr. Watts or his Divine Songs, but that was his maxim, notwithstanding. He was sorely perturbed, therefore, in spirit, at the storm-cloud that had arisen on the domestic horizon, and he hastily dispatched Eliza after her mother to tell lier that he " didn't mean anything," and she " mustn't be vexed at him." " And run you, too, Janie dear !" said the honest butcher, " and wM your mother you're willing to do whatever she Mds you do. That's my girl — run, now, and you'll see what a nice silk dress I'll buy you to-morrow !'* Janie's sulky face brightened in an instant, and away she tripped after her elder sister, in a glow of ecstatic delight, her mind full of the promised silk dress. It is needless to say that the embassy was iu all respects successful, for Janie volunteered hei TASTE VERSUd FASHION. 41 boasting the pret- ,er of his red man the right le wrong. I Tiolhiny; iild make )hold the lis Divine ^standing, rit, at the c horizon, mother to and she he honest ing to do girl — run, 8 ril buy stant, and i glow of nised silk bassy was eered hei Bcrvices for anything and everything, and the mother wiii so highly pleased by the ready admission of her supreme authority that she not only ratified Tom's j)romise in regard to Janie, but extended it to all the others. To be sure the reconciliation, on tlieso terms, was rather an expensive one, but what went for dress was well laid out, according to the estab- lished theory of the house of Gallagher, and so long as "pa was willing to shell out" there were no qualms of conscience — or of prudence. Mrs. Gallagher and her two eldest daughters sal- lied forth on the following afternoon on the great and all-important business of shopping. Pleasura- ble though the prospect was, there was a cloud on the brows of " a' the three" when they stepped down stairs ready for town. The fact was that the whole seven faces, of Mrs. Gallagher, namely, and the six Misses Gallagher, were all more or less under a cloud at that particular moment. The four junior ladies were grievously troubled in mind that they couldn't all be of the shopping party, against which the mother set her face in toto. Each one wanted to " choose her own," as we u^od to say or sing in our childish days when marching round hand-in-hand with our young companions marrying off the heiress of a certain " poor w dow that lived in Athlooe," which bereaved individual " had ne'er a daughter to marry but one !" This fair damsel of Athlone was earnestly and r» m i i m "^pp r:;ri ;!■:! I"* 'm >]':>', i|M| !!! M *'lil l[:l i|H ti' llliii 42 OLD AND NEW ; OR, peatedly admonished (in the play) to "choose her own,' and the Miss Gallaghers, without any such solemn mjunction, did think themselves entitled to^choope their own" new silk dresses. The house was pretty oqually divided on the question, l)ut as the minor- ity included the maternal parent — who was a sort of autocrat in her way — the majority was forced to yield to the stern law of necessity. Well! that accounted for four of the lowering brows, but what had gone wrong with the other three that they, too, should exhibit unmistakeable signs of discontent ? Their conversation, as they walked to the neighbor- ing avenue to take the cars, will enlighten the reader on that point. " I've a great mind not to go at all,'* said Mrs. Gallagher who was dressed in a rich brocade silk, flounced half-way up the skirt, a deep circular cape of the finest black velvet, and an exceedingly small bonnet of crimson velvet, ornamented with two white ostrich plumes so long that they tipped her little narrow shoulders on either side at every step she took. " I've a great-mind-not-to-go-at-all," said she again with increasing determination. " How does he think I can buy six dresses — not to speak of a shawl I wanted for myselt^ — out of a hundred and fifty dollars .<"' " A hundred and fifty dollars, ma ! why, I thought he gave you two hundred, and even that would bo hardly enough. Why, that shawl you were looking at iu Stuart's is fifty-five dollars, you know !" TASTE VERSUS FASHION'. 43 ! her own,' ch solemn to"chooFe vna pretty he miiior- '^as a sort forced to ^ell! that , but what they, too, scontent ? neighbor- the reader said Mrs. )cade silk, cular cape igly small with two ipped her very step o-at-all," n. "How to speak % hundred I thought would be •e looking " Yes, but I could do with the other he showed us at forty, though, to be sure, I set my hearo on bavin' one like Mrs. Dan Brogan's. But, then, you Bee, even at that, I wouldn't have enough left to get the six dresses. Do vou think I would, Eliza?" " Not if you got that pearl moirc anhquc for Fanny and me — they'd be eighty dollars, you know.'* '* I'll do no such thing, then," the mother replied sharply, " less must do you this time. It's every one of you for herself Kighty dollars, indeed ! wliy, that would be the half of the whole, wouldn't it ? and how would I manage for the other four, if I got any kind of a shawl worth carry ira' home." "Well, ma!" pleaded Eliza, between whom and her sister divers admonitory gestures were ex- changed, "you know it's for Lil Bmith'a party we want them, and Dora Brady and Lucina Diigan and Jo Fitzsimmons have all got 7noirc antiques!'^ " Mare aUeck^ your granny !" The cars had just stopped to take in our fair trio, so the debate was adjourned to Stuart's, thcCollosseum of fashion. Seated in a ro.v at the counter, Mrs. Gallagher and her daughters resumed the discussion of the marc a tech question, with the grei< collateral issue of spinnirig two dresses of that co. .ly fabric, four feilks of approved " style" and a sliawl like Mrs. Dan Brogan's out of the fifteen ten-dollar bills wherewith Tom Gallagher's niggardly generosity had furnished his wife's porte-monnaie. Many a sly glance of humo^'ous intelligence passed 1^ m n ii"^ 11 'ill ■ u ill' li ' •' :!' 111 I'll mi' ' ii! SI i lit;"' '! .„ I 4| 'I ■I* >>;| Ml 1=!!! ;i:! f» ie •t ' r ( lilll: *:'!!! m \\'\ it I ill SI .I'l"l'l 1 I '■ 'I't 44 OLD AND NEW ; OR, amongst the finical young gentlemen behind tha counter as they came and went iii th. ir arduous avo- cation of " waiting on" the Gallagher ladies and all the other ladies who at that p.'irticuiar hour wer paying their costly tribute to the fantastic divinity, Fashion. It is probable that the tedious delibera- tions of our three ladies would soon have exhausted the patience of the young gentlemen aforesaid, had not Mrs. Gallagher and her daughters been well known in Stuart's as " fowl worth a plucking" — good for ready money. The council of three, after exercising the young gentlemen's professional patience for the space of an hour, at length brought its sitting to a happy con- clusion. A parcel was made up containing two moire antiques, marked on the bill seventt/Jive doUars, two brocades, Jifty, two plain chocked silks, tiventy- five^ seven pairs Alexander's best kids, screw dollars, and one Paisley shawl, ffty dollars — "Total — tvo nuNURED AND SEVEN DOLLARS,'* as the obscquious young gentleman v/ho had the privilege of summing up the figures, announced in the blandest manner possible. " I'm afeard I haven't got enough to pay you all," said Mrs. Gallagher, taking out her porte-mon* naie. " It don't make the slightest difference, ma'am,* said the extra-civil shopman, as he handed the fif- teen ten-dollar billa to the juvenile official whom his spasmodic cry of " Cash !" had summoned from parts unknown. " The balance can lie over till you • 1 1)1 .1*! ■f,!t.,li t^ TASTE VERSUS TASHION. 4b behmd th« rluous avo- lies and all hour wer ic divinity, IS delibera- exhaiisted resaid, had been well ng" — good the young ipaoe of an lappy con- ining two five doUars, cs, tiventy- cn dollars^ otal — Tvo ous young ng up the possible. you all," ortenion* nia'am," d the tif. wliom his led from 'X till you come again^-oi — whenever it suits your couvenienco. ma'am !" 'Tm entirely obleeged to you,'* answered Mrs. Tom, with an air of grateful deference. " It'll not be long if I can help it." " Don*t hurry yourself, ma^am ! — ahem !*' with a comical glance from the corner of his eye at his next neighbor behind the counter. " We'll be always happy to see you, Mrs. Gallagher ! but pray don't trouble yourself coming on account of the little balance — it is only fifty-seven dollars " , " Fifty-seven dollars !" repeated the maternal Gallagher to her daughters, as they emerged from IStuart's by one of the Chambers street doors. " Lord save us, girls ! we'll be killed dead — your father 'ill have our lives !" " Nonsense, ma ! we can manage him easy enough — even if he docs get in a passion about it, it will blow over, you know ! and then we can make believe that weWd very angry, and pa'll be glad enough to make peace with the fifty-seven dollars — perhaps more. But then our moire antiques! I do feel so bad that we couldn't get the shade we wanted. Thce's what comes of being niggardly — if pa liad only given us the money a week ago we'd have had our choice, now Dora and Lucina and Jo have got the pick of the whole lot. Why Liz Adams, tv at only paid thirty-two dollars for hers, has a be\ -ei shade than ours. I dccUic it is tuo bad — a'nl it, if sm m'§ & 46 OIJ) AND XEW ; OR, !! ' I'll 1! lij Hi 'MIIKi liliilisp'ti;, " I v/ish to the Lord yourselves and your man a'teeks were in — Alabama!" cried the harassed mother. " You weren't easy till you got thera, and now when you have them, they don't please you I there I went like a fool and bougiit them for you, and you choosed thera yourselves, too, still you're not eat^ ^ed ! botheratior, to them i'or 9fiare a'teeks — there cou J ')e luck with them and they havin' such an outlano name !" " Well, ma ! you know yourself they're nasty, faded looking things, and I'm sure they'll look worse still when they're alongside of Dora's and Jo's and Lucina's. If they'd only look decent by gas-light I wouldn't care so much !" " They'll look better than you think," said Fanny, "and, at any rate, T don't care to have the very same shade as the others, because, then, you know, they'd be saying we were copying after them. It's just as well to have ours a little different." This was real consolation, and by the time the Sixth avenue stage (for which they had been wait- ing at the corner) came along, Eliza had made up her mind that it would not have been so desirable, after all, to have the very exact shade of Mesde- moiselles Dora Brady & Company's moire antiques When the new purchases were exhibited at home Ihe junior Miss Gallaghers were not over well satis- fied, either, with their share of " the shopping." Some of the dresses were allowed to be " passable," but othei's, and of the last numbfer was Janie's, wer« TASTE VERSUS fASHION. 41 f )ur mart harassed lera, aiul ise you I for you, ou're not s — there such an e nasty, ^'11 look ra's and 3cent by \ Fanny, the very )u know, 2m. It's time the 3en wait- made up lesirable, r Mesde- antiqiies at home 'ell satis- f." Some ble," but pronounced " horrible things," and " as old as the hills." " Why, ma !" said Janie pursing up " Her wee bit mou' sae sweet and bonnie." " Why, ma ! what ever put it in your head to buy that blue checked silk for me, and to go to Lil Smith's party, too ?" " And what fault dc you find with it, miss ?" " Why, goodness gracious me I couldn't Eliza have told you that Amy Moore had one just the very same !" " Why didn't you tell me that, Eliza?" asked the mother very gravely ; " the child is right enough ; if Amy Moore has one like it, it would never do for Janie Gallagher. Them Moores are so upsetting and carry their heads so high since the old fellow got into the corporation, that you'd think the whole city belonged to them. Why, I met my lady her- self in the market the other day, and only think, if she hadn't the assurance to turn up her nose as she passed me, as if I was dirt in her eyes. She doesn't mind how often I obliged her, when I used to give her credit a couple of dollars at a time, until Larry would fall into work again. Many a time they'd have wanted their dinner if it wasn't for my four bones! — but now, to be sure, Larry's in the corpora- tion, and Madam Peggy must begin to put on airs ! I wouldn't mind it, though, if she wouldn't bo trying to cope up with us and the likes of us, that could buy Larry Moore from the gallows till withio i iU m ^^TTTrw !i;i ,!i:i m Sill ill ilii if J: :i m ::ri' i 1 p 11 If ' •I i;i '•Hi I (I u iM i'lii! .itll i!|p HI If I ill I m n mm H:U,;,!. Ijijjj .jllj II* liil tiiilril| lit-' 18 OLD AND ITEW ; OR, the last couple of years — and God knous where th€ money carne from /" she added, with a mysterioui air, that deeply impressed her attentive hearers, who, of course, shared their mother's enmity towarne the audacious Moores — who were notoriously guilty of getting up suddenly in the world, and, what was far more heinous, attempting not only to imitate the ladies of the house of Gallagher, but ac- tually to out do them in the world of fashion ! There was impudence for you ! Larry Moore, that kept a little shanty of a liquor-store away in some back Pi eei until luck — or something else — threw a penny ot mOiiey in his hands and shoved him into the cor- poration — to think oi his folk comparing themselves to them (the Gallaghers) and their father having one of the first stalls in Centre Market, and one of the oldest, too ! No, the blue checked silk must be re- turned to Stuart's — that was unanimously agreed upon — and Eliza and Fanny were severely repri- manded by their mother for not having thought of it in time, i. c, during the counter session — that that red-haired fright Amy Moore had one like it. Serious fears were entertained that " Stuart's pecple" wouldn't bo so ubliging as to change the unlucky blue check for another, but these fears did " Stuart's'* A great injustice, for the dress was happily and satis factorily changed for one that was declared " a per- fect beauty," which " beauty" came with the further recommendation that one of the first young ladiei in town had got onfe like it the day btforo _ . I,':' ^, :'■ ■l^:,.. TASTE VERSUS FASHION 49 where tht lysterioui rers, who, towarue itoriously >ild, and, t only to , but ac- ! There at kept a me back a penny the cor- emselves ving one le of the 8t be re- r agreed ly repri- >ught of on — that 2 like it. I people" unlucky >tuart's" nd 6;:tis " a per- s further g ladiei "11 This point settled, the next thing was to send for Miss Waldron, the family dressmaker, who n\ aa esteemed one of the best in New York, and was honored, accordingly, with a most extensive patronage. She had few equals and no superior in the art of " fitting." " Ami even the st ry ran " that she had "fitted" the President's lady — an achievement worthy of her high reputation, seeing that the same exalted individual was not particulaily remarkable for symmetry of shape, whatever other perfections she might have brought to the White House. It may well be believed that Miss Waldron, endowed with all this wealth of fame, rated her professional services pretty highly, and made her customers pay well for the honor of being " fitted" by so eminent an artiste. There is no denying that such was the fact; Miss Waldron did charge high, she professed to charge high, and Miss Waldron thought it was the interest of her employers as well as her own that she sliould charge h\gh, because it kept low people from aspiring to the honor of being "fitted" in u style that ought to be reserved for their betters. In fact Miss Waldron was a sort of Barnum in her own " line of business," and knew as well as that potent humbug himself how to get up a name. Notwithstanding her aristocratic pre tensions, the Gallagher family had been on her list a number of years, which fact she accounted for to others by a patronizing; admission that " she had «! m 60 OLD AND NEW ; OR, IPS :!:Pi"i^ f illi :liiivli! ' 1 been working for Mrs. Gallagl er before she got right into the business, and she reallv didn't like to hurt the poor woman's feelings by leaving off — of course, the Gallaghers weren't yws-f t/ie thing, she knew that— but, then, she couldn't well get over doing their work now though she had more than she could do from the first in to wn." To the Gallaghers themselves Miss Waldron spoke in a different key, and declared — probably, in all sincerity, that she had no bettor customers than they. This stately lady — for stately she was — brought joy and happiness to the troubled minds of Mrs. Gallagher and her daughters six by the gratifying announcement that the moire antiques were " the very thing" — upon her word, Miss Waldron said, the Misses Gallagher were very lucky to get that particular shade, for, to her knowledge, Mrs. Liv- ingston Brandreth had been all over town in her carriage looking for that very identical shade. " How it escaped her eyes in Stuart's I really don't know, but all I can say is, you were very, very lucky — I mean fortunate." Miss Waldron prided herself on using choice language, befitting her close connec- tion and frequent intercourse with the great. Questioned '"egardiug the junior dresses, Misa Waldron said they were "very nice, indeed" — when she came to Janie's, she made that younjj lady's heart beat the tattoo on her ribs by the exclamation : ** Dear me, Miss Janie ! this is just the same ai TASTE VERSUS FASRIOM. 51 one I ma 'e last week for Mias Von Wiegel, and she always has such nice things.*' " Mis9 Von Wiegel !" oried at least four of the seven voices appertaining to the Gallaghers, " why that must be the grand lady that the clerk told us he sold one like it to." " You're sure it wasn't the moire antique ?" superadded Eliza. " Moire antique ! no, indeed, it wasn't, Miss Von Wiegel never wears anv such thinff." " Il'ow can that be, if she's one of the first ladies in town ?" " Now I've put my foot in it," said Miss Waldron to herself, " and if I can't get decently out of it, the iat's all in the fire." Luckily for the modiste she was tolerably ready witted, so she quickly recovered herself, and made an additional point at the same time. "Oh! you see, she and the old Madam are all alone now — alone in the world, as one may say — and for all they're so rich and so grand, they've had trouble enough, I assure you — I mean to say they have had their share of this world's trials, and are not long out of mourning for the old Ritter — in- deed, the Madam has Tiot laid aside her mourning garb," said ^liss Waldron solemnly and poetically " and never will, but Miss Bertha— I mean Miss Vol Wiegel — has just commenced wearing colors again They see very little company at any time — the com- pany here don't suit them— and I believe it is not their intention to see any at all now. So, of course, m '■ •■; need of }7ioire antique .'" •* But the Ritter, who was he ?" " Why, the old Madam's husband, of course Ritter is a sort of title, you know, in the country they came from — somewhere in Europe." "And Bertha! what a lovely name! And ar« they very, very rich ?" " Yes, very, very rich !' " And yet your Miss Von Von what's her name, never wears moire antique — why, my good- ness ! if I was her, I'd wear rru)ii'e antique all the time." " Well, tastes differ, you see,*' said Miss Waldron with a scarcely perceptible smile. " When will you want these dresses, young ladies ?" This made a diversion, as Miss Waldron meant it should, and the Von Wiegels were forgotten in tho nearer and dearer affair of "the fitting.'* s 113 need T18TE VERSUS FASHION. 58 f course ) country And ara 'hat*8 her ny good- tc all the Waldron will you meant it n in tho CHAPTER III. riNANOIAL DIPLOMACY VND A FRENCH LESSON. Before we leave the Gallaghers for the present the reader may be curious to know how the little balance at Stuart's was arranged between Tom and his " womankind," as worthy Mr. Oldbuck was wont to say. In most other households of the same standing, with any other head than Tom Gallagher, the aifair would have resulted in a general embroglio, and the younger daughters, as it was, were fright- ened when they heard of such a balance still remain- ing. To their school-girl ideas an hundred and fifty dollars was an immense sum of money to have the spending of The mother and the elder daughters took the matter so easy that it quite mystified tho juniors, who were literally trembling with appre- hension as the hour approached when their father usually came home for the night. Mrs. Gallagher went bustling about as usual, but the "juveniles" remarked that a magnificent oyster-stew engaged her particular attention. Now this wa" 7 »m*8 fiivor- ite supper, and it hapr^ened very well luat the care- ful wife should have it in readiness on that particu- lar evening. Eliza, ""J'anny and Ellie were all quietly at work, the two lormer making up flannel under, olothes, the latter kaitting away as fast as her deli' «p ^''^lii ,,;«. hi 0£-n AND NEW ; OB, *!i lij'' ¥¥^^f: li':;i'ji'.. 1 ■< ■ fI'ii" cate fingers could go at a woollen sock. Every* thing was in its place — even Gumbo and Tabby on the rug in front of the well-polished grate in which the brightest of coal fires was burning. At last in came Tom, and the momci.^ ne entered the door his olfactory nerve was greeted by the grateful odor from the kitchen — it so happened that the doors leading from the lower regions were all open that evening. "Ah ha!" said Tom rubbing his hands as he mounted the stairs — they were still in the old house— " I smell something good, and I'm just in the humor to relish it, for the evening's raw, and I'm both cold and hungry." Pie drew a chair to the fire, and p'* p his feet on the fender v/hilst the oysters were I . .^ served. tlis three elder daughters were all so intent on theif work that they barely spoke to him. " Why, girls, you're all very busy," said the well- pleased father, as he spread his hands to catch thq grateful warmth — " what are you at now ?" " Oh ! that's a secret, pa !" said Mag, who was arranging the supper on the table. The elder sif- ters only laughed and looked at each other as if im- posing silence. " Never mind," said Mag, who wais the " rattle-pate" of the family, " I see you want to know what it means, so I'll tell you." " If you dare !" said Eliza holding up her finger whilst the oMiers chimed in with " Now don't Mag, don't r . . •• . § i( I'Vvti TASTB VERSUS FASHION. m 2k. Every* lI Tabby oa ^te in which ne entered ted by the )pened tha6 ms were all knds as he old house— the humor 1 both cold p his feet ^ served. nt on theif i the well- catch the who was elder sif- r as if im- , who wab ►u want to ler finger on't Mag, .-.«4..V -.V ' "I will!" said Mag resolutely, "just because I Know you don't want me to. They wanted to sur- prise you, pa, but now that you've caught them there a*/\t any use hiding it longer. EUie's knitting a pair of woollen socks for you, and she means to knit two or three pairs more, because ma says they're better and warmer than any we can get to buy." " Oh ! you wretch !" — "you shocking bad girl !" — ■ " wait till we get a secret of yours !" " Never mind them, Mag !" said Tom in mcreas- injx ffood humor. "What's the flannel for? Is it for me, too ?" " Oh no, pa !" said the too-candid Mag lowering her voice to a confidential whisper, " that's to send to Ireland by Mr. McMuUen when he's going " " To Ireland, Mag ? Ah ! then, who to in Ire- land ?"' asked Tom, and his heavy eyes began to sparkle with unusual lustre. " To dear old Aunt Biddy}!''' whispered Mag in his ear. " You know she's got the * rheumatics !' " This last was said loud enough for the others to hear as the adroit Mag was giving a quotation from old Biddy's letter, and the nature of the good dame's disease, as set forth by the schoolmaster, her neighbor — one Paddy Hanratty — had afforded much amusement to the accomplished young ladies her grandnieces. Mag's drollery had nearly spoiled ail, for her sisters were " so tickled," as they after wards declared,, "to hear how nicely she humbug- s'! i;' ■*,■ li'lJli if. I 'In: J '«»• • !l 111 I'lli L '■■■'I •! Mm .Hi; iill i.l ' 'fl «'iFteiiii;^4 ill 56 OLD AND NEW ; OR, ged the old man^ that when she came out at last with Aunt Biddy's * rheumatics' they couldn't stand it any longer." So they had to run out of their father's hearing to give free vent to their merri- ment. Poor Tom Gallagher! v/ell as he knew how tc make mone^ he was little skilled in the art of chica- nery; so he ate his oysters and the other good tilings provided in abundance for his entertainment, and praised Ellen and the girls for their industry, and still more cordially for their kind attention to his Aunt Biddy — which he thought more of than anything else they could do — and wound up by ask- ing his wife if she had got the dresses. " Oh, yes, we got them, and a shawl for me, and a good many other things we wanted. We hadn't money enough with us, but I knew it didn't make any matter — we can send it any time — and then it'll save 'IS going out again for a while. '* Tom's countenance fell a degree or so. " Well, and how much were you short ? I say, how much do you owe?" *' Too much, Tom — too much for my liking,'* and Mrs. Gallagher shook her head with a most por- tentous air. " Out with it, whatever it is, and let U3 be done with it !" " Weil, it's fifty seven dollars — no, I'm wrongs Bev(3nty-five !" Tom responded by au ejaculatory "Whew— TASTE VERSUS FASHION. 61 ut at lasl du't stand t of their eir merri- V how tt t of chica- her good tainment, industry, ention to i of than p by ask- r me, and 'e hadn't n't make then it'll " Well, )w much ng,'» and ost por- be done wrong; ^hew— w — w!" then repeated, with marked emphasis, " Seventy — five — dollars !" The girls were about to interpose, naturally sup posing that their mother's arithmetic was at fault. A glance of her eye undeceived them, so they listened ia silent suspense to the matrimonial dialogue. " Yes, Tom, seventy-five dollars !'* " And what did you do with the hundred-and- fifty I gave you V " Why, now, Tom Gallagher ! you used to be a sensible man, but I declare — well, it's a folly to talk, men have little notion of what it takes to keep up a family, and dress them decently, in New York !" "God help me !" ejaculated Tom, "/ ought to know it by this time !" " Well ! didn't I tell y^u we got six dresses — six dresses, mind I — and a shawl — and seven pair o' gloves — seve?i pair, mind you ! — and — and " Mrs. Gallagher's memory failed her, but the ready tear came to her jiid, and, unused as she was to the melting mood, she was sudd nly reduced to the ne- cessity of putting her handkerchief to her eyes, whining out, at the same time : " I^^'s r hard, hard thing for a woman at my age, a woman that works herself, and makes others work, too, to be questioned about the laying out of a few dollais— just as if I was a foolish slip of a girl that didn't know the value of money ! I tc.d you — J toidyou we bought a good many things- — ." Taking i i wmmm mm ill :;''ii-:;i ^lli::||r],':^.i ''if ■^ill ll V'" liv'l'l'i'' . !! ■11 '%m 68 OLD AND NEW ; OR, the handkerchief from her eyes, she glanced at the fiannel destined for exportation to Ireland, but said nothing. Tom's heart was soft, very soft, and, somehow, he never could bear to see anybody cry ; it was a weakness Tom had, so he couldn't hslp it ; w^hether his wife was in t^ ' secret or not, it served her well on that occasion, for T'^'^ was mightily moved himself, and said : " Hut, .. .t, woman ! don't be making a fool of yourself! keep your tears for the widow's cap !" and pulling out a somewhat greasy pocket-book of black leather, he counted out seventy-five dollars and handed it to her, while the girls drew back to hold a pantomimic colloquy of joyful import amongst themselves. "There it is, Ellen !" said the unsuspecting butcher, *' it's far off the rent of New York, to be sure, and I know it's nothing but w^Uat you're entitled to, but still I'd rather I hadn't to give it to you now, for I'm goin' up to-morrow to the Bull's Head to buy some cattle, and I owe a thousand and ten dollars to that Palmer from Jersey that I promised to bring him to-morrow. Still, as you owe the money it must be paid, for I never want to have my name or yours in people's books, if I can help it. We must only do the best we can for to-morrow !" he said gloomily to himself as lift turned and began to poke the fire with great energy and perseverance. Of course Tom was overwlielmed with thanks, and the girls strained f^very nerve to make the evening pass pleasantly, which it did, Tom being one of those TA3TE VEKSU3 FASHION. 59 ced at the d, but said soft, and, yhody cry ; I't help it ; b, it served 8 mightily nan ! don't ' tears lor somewhat junted out , while the oUoquy of ig butcher, sure, and ed to, but I now, for ad to buy dollars to i to bring money it name or We must ' he said n to poko e. anks, and evening D of those hap^jy individuals who always make the most of C present enjoyment, and leave the coming time to 4 take care of itself. " Wasn't that well managed, eh ?" said Mrs. Gal- lagher to her daughters when they found themselves minus the head of the house some time before bed- ^ time. .f " Couldn't be better, ma ! couldn't be better ! but I how did you come to make it seventy-five instead ■f of fifty-seven ?" " Why, you goose," politely said the astute parent, " don't you know we have got Miss Waldron to pay ?*' " Sure enough we have — I forgot all about that !'* " Well ! you see /didn't forget it — it takes me, after all, for if I haven't the larning, I've the gumption P^* The girls cheerfully admitted the gumption as a known fact, the more readily as it placed the game in their own hands on that momentous occasion, and secured a brilliant turn-out for the family at Lil Smith's forthcoming party, which party was to eclipse all the parties of the season, and make Dora and Co. hide their diminished heads — under " The goose-plumage of Folly " wittily sung by one who knew the world of Fashion well — in circles where the moving planets were tho high and the noble — endowed with the mystic quali- ties, *' birth and breeding" — about equally rare on Ihis side the Atlantic ! * AogUcd — Presence of mind. , . m m 1 i;i«!^^1 ^i!i!! m^ ililM , ;|'; 111 J Us^".' liiii ij|t!l:!!!il;!pf I i t ;!• SO OLD AND NEW J OR, The father of the family was meanwhile consoling himgelf with the thought — if thought he really had — that the deficit in his cash for the morrow's transac tians at the Bull's Head would be somehow made up through the all-potent agency of Atty GarrelL " He'll wonder what I done with it, though," said he half aloud as he shook the ashes from his last pipe ; " he knows I had it made up — them con- founded women ! what a time they came at me ! — well ! there a'nt any use fretting about it — there's no cure for spilled milk, as poor Aunt Biddy used to say. I must just only tell Atty that I had a little bill to pay — and so I had, the deuce take it !" Poor Tom Gallagher ! soft-hearted, kind Tom Gal- lagher ! he could not keep the dollars in his pocket- book and see his family " put about" for the want of them — least of all when the payment of " a ba- lance" was in question, for one of Tom's peculiari- ties was a nervous dislike of being " in people's books." So he would rather encounter Atty Gar- rell's asperity, and trust to his ingenuity than allow his name to stand in black and white on Stuart's books as a debtor. There was a solid stratum of honorable principle at the base of Tom's mind, waste and un cultivated as the upper surface was. Tom was an easy creditor himself, often too easy for Atty Garrell's liking or the interests of " th3 concern," but he never wanted to be a debtor, or claim him- self that indulgence he was so ready to extend to others. " Fashion" was Tom's great misfortune, TASTE VERSUS FASHION. ei e consoling eally had— v^a transac 3ho\v made Garrell. 5Ugh," said m his last them corv- at me ! — it — there's dy used to lad a little it !" Tom Gal- lis pocket- the want of " a ba- peculiari- people's Vtty Gar- lan allow I Stuart's 'atura of id, waste Tom was Tor Atty oncern," lim hiin- ctend to ilbrtime, bnt in his case the misfortune was in some degree counterbalanced by the industrious habits of the family. The balance, indeed, was far from equal, "' for whilst Industry saved the dollars in units, Fash-^ ion ran away with them in tens and hundreds. ^L The dresses and gloves, with certain other d Wm ceteras in the shape of flowers, blondes and laces, ^ being secured for Lil Smith's party, it became the next object of consideration amongst the Gallaghers feminine who all were to be at the party. A series of visits was set on foot for the purpose of obtain- ing this important information. The girls resolved themselves into three committees of two for the better prosecution of the needful inquiries, and otherwise to carry out the views of the general council. All the spare hours of three days were devoted to this interesting investigation — the in- quiries, of course, being made, as per previous reso- lution, in the most cautious and indirect manner possible so as to avoid the appearance of und'.ie curiosity. The result was rather favorable to ihe hopes and wishes ot the anxious expectants. Of some thirty persons who were jwsitiveli/ to be there {i. c, at Lil Smith's — not her father's or mother's twenty-one were known to the Miss Gallaghers as wmelxxli/s, and although the possibility existed that the other nine might be tiobodys^ still the presenco of so vast a majority of decided " fashionables" justified the Gallagher constellation in appearing oo the Smith meridian in Tenth street, West. ■ --si ' ■ '1 ■ ■■■ i'W ^m'"" :■''■' iril ilii ^t mm vi'll' 63 OLD AND KEW ; OR, "But that's true," said the mother of the six stars, bustling into the room where the girls were arranging the flowers for their hair, and other such finishing touches of their preparations, a day or two before the party, " that's true, girls ! is Julia Fogarty going ?" " Oh ! of course," cried Mag with emphasis, " of course /" and all the others laughed. It was clear that Julia Fogarty was no favorite with the family. " Annie and I met her at Mrs. Robinson's yester day afternoon," said Eliza, "herself and Harriet Stokes." " Why, you weren't telling us !" interruptecJi Fanny. " What did she wear — the black silk witL the plaid trimming, eh ?" " No, I'll bet it was tho Maria Louisa blue !" put in EUie. "You're both out this time," laughed Eliza, " it was neither one nor the other." " What was it, then ? — do you think she's got a new one ?'"' " If she has she hadn't it on then; it w^as the old brown brocade done up in the new." " The old brown brocade !" chorused seven voices with a corresponding burst of laughter. " The old brown brocade ! — hold me or I'll faint ! — my stars ! that brown brocade must have been in wear since the year one! — well! did you ever? La me! but ehe's the queer Julia ! — a'nt she, now ?'^ These were the exclamations of the daughters \^: '£■■ w the six rls were her such day or is Julia sis, "o/" as clear J family. yester % Harriet irrupted/ ilk witL e!" put • liza, "it 's got a :, the old 1 voices rhe old r stars I •1 ir sincQ ^*"i lel but ighters TASTE VERSUS FASHION. 68 while the mother laughed till hdv sides shook again at what she called their smartmss. As we have unluckily but little relish for fashion- able society (so-called) ! and have a misty sort of idea that it must be a dreadful bore (to borrow one of its own pet phrases) to spend many hours of a winter's evening — those precious hours that seem as though kind nature meant them for social inter- course and the calm delights of home — amid the whirl, and rush, and crush, and glitter of a fashion- able party — call it assembly, soirde, reception, levee* or what you will. In such scenes the refined and thoughtful mind is more oppressed with solitude than it would be in the awful silence of the deep Avoods, or on the bleak white shore where the mur- muring sea-waves come and go in perpetual motion. There is life in the grand old woods, and to those whose " hearts are attuned to nature's harmonies" their silence is more eloquent than human tongue in its mightiest power. Yes, true it is " The deep woods and dark wilds can a pleasure impart," and so, too, can the many-voiced ocean, and the rustling of the breeze and even the howling of the empest, all these may be heard with profit as well as pleasure, but not so the senseless gabble, the hollow mirth, the artificial titter, and the thousand ♦ In American society the levee is no longer the official reception it still is in old Europe. Would-be fashionable ladies have their levees as well as the President. m '■i'< m ;I Jl| ltt.,l|l'l s.. ^ '*. ^'^I^^^i'^ i:.:: ■ m ri^\ M .1 'ri-v>i;'"*i':' ' ' t > 11 r '-ir ..." .,i4 ^^K ;;,r! iH ; ■ I'll) l\, ■£■>•[ I I t, 64 OM) AND NEW ; OR, and one " shams" — unreal mockeries — that make up a fashionable party where the vulgar rivalry of drcsB and the pitiful cravings of vanity and envy are the spirits that rule the hour; where men and w-omen seem all bent on showing how little brains, or even true taste nature gave them. Choice, therefore^ would never lead us to Lil Smith's party, and as we have reason to hope that many of our readers would be just as much out of place there, we shall not visit the rooms — an apartment, namely, of some thirtv feet at most, on ordinarv occasions divided by folding doors — now " whipped away,'* how- ever, like those whose sudden disappearance ir» Squire Beamton's mansion so puzzled our old ac- quaintance " the renowned Paul Dogherty, profes- sor of Dancing and all other kinds of music,^^ How " Lil's" ingenuity contrived to cram some forty-five or fifty people into her ball-room, like old Kaspar in the ballad, we " never could make out," but that such feat was accomplished by that hospitable young lady we have the testimony of the six Miss Gal- laghers, the three Miss Hacketts — for they were there, too — not to speak of Julia Fogarty and her three brothers. Such a weight of evidence must, we think, establish the fact to a mathematical cer- tainty, though Michael Hackett, who for reasons known to " self and father" had not availed himself of the Smithsonian invitation, did take the liberty of insinuating that the numbers were manifestly ex ftggerated. which skepticism of Michael's drew dow^o f It" ! 1 , nti i ' 1 :, - i. •• 1 :ik m TASTE VERSUS FASHION. it make up i*y of dress vy are the nd women IS, or eveu therefore, and as we ers would shall not of some IS divided y," how- irance ir* ir old ac- ty, profes- c." How forty-five d Kaspar ' but that ble young Miss Gal- hey were ' and her ice must, .tical ccr- • reasons cl himself le liberty festly ex ew dowo •pon him the full measure of his sisters* wrath. Michael, however, was in such matters an infidel by profession ; yea, verily, in the creed of Fashion Michael had no faith; he was what the pious Mus Bulmaus would call " an unbelieving dog," w^ith as little reverence for the laws that govern the world of Fashion ..s though he were brought up amongst the hermits of Montserrat,* on the "holy mountain" of old Spain, where Folly never waved his cap and bells, or Fashion her potent wand. The Hackett sisters had very poor listeners in their father and brother when their theme was " anything in the dry- good or jewelry line," but they amply indemnified themselves for the paternal and fraternal indiffer- ence, by discussing their favorite topics amongst themselves. The general effect of Lil Smith's hospit- able exertions may be gathered indirectly from their enlightened comments when at four o'clock (P.M.) next day they assembled in the front room, •' more dead than alive," as they curtly expressed their used- up condition. *' So the party is all over now !'* said Ann Wilhel mina with a yawn that stretched her mouth from car to ear. " Well ! I'm sure I a'nt sorry," said Mary Clemen tina; "if ever I was so tired of anythmg in all ♦ Most of my readers have, I hope, read of the |»ious com n\unii.y of anchorets on the raouniain of Moniser\at. in Si»ain. An accouDt of it will be found amongst the pilgrimages at IhB eod of At>b^ Orsiui's Life of the Blessed Virgin. i*k it m M Ml m r 66 ■nil II, V ■ ,1 . 'a :'!t ■ I OLD AND NEW ; OR, 1m my life! -it was a stupid affair, after all — wasn't it, now?" " It would have been," answered Sarah Eugenia, " only for the fun of watching how things went on, and the airs some folks put on themselves. Why if- was good fun to watch the Smiths themselves. They just know as much how to get up anything of the kind as — as — the old cobbler over the way. Did you see the old fellow himself how he carried on?" " And the mother not much better. Ha ! ha ! ha ! I can't but laugh when I think of her — she looked for all the world like a great fat pincushion stuffed into copper-colored satin." " And then the queer old uncle and aunt and the two skinny daughters from some place uj) the Xorth River — la ! before /W invite such curiosities to my party ! Why Lil might hire them out to Barnum at so much u, head — what on earth drought so many old fogies there ? I'm sure I wouldn't be bothered going if I had known the mixtrum-gatherum of a company that was to be in it." " Well ! but the dresses, Sarah," inquired Ann, " how did you like them? who do you think looked the best ?" " Oh ! as for that, it's hard to say," replied Sarah, looking thoughtfully down on the carpet, as though the matter required what Sir Patrick O'Plenipo calls "very nice con-sid-eration;" " Lucina Ducket t looked 8we\\*. m^' i*.'j»'i RvBI 10 OLD AN3 NEW ; OR, . ■' I vanilla !'* Still there were some things " really nice," and the two pyramids of ice cream and maccaroons, one at each end of the table, looked " so elegant" with a splendid bouquet of hot-house flowers in the centre — " do you know what ?" wound up Fanny m a most emphatic tone, "Lil paid five dollars for that bouquet ! i" *' Well ! and whrt if she did ?' said Eliza rather abruptly as it seemed, but Miss Gallagher knew what she was about. " Of course, it set out the table — indeed, it wouldn't have looked anything at all without it — and, then, when people do give parties they ought to spare no expense to have everything in good style." " After all," said Mrs. Gallagher with a shake of the head that implied a shade of dissent,, " afteJ all, Eliza, money is money, as Atty Garrell sayj (Atty was quite an authority on loatters financial), and five dolLirs is too much for a bokay of fiovv'ers — just for one night ~" " Why my goodness, ma ! if it goes to tkat^ *vasn't everything on the table 'just for one night' as well as the bouquet i*" laying an emphasis on the last word meant to give her mother a gentle hint for present and future application." " Yes, but still, you know, there's reason in all things, and for my part, I'd sooner buy a decent dress with the five dollars than a bo-kay of flowers." " Bouquet, ma !" said Elizb impatiently, seeing that iiints would not do for her maternal nrogeni- I,, .}:^ ^i'\: «t the hint n ail [oent TASTK VERSUS FASHION. tor where French pronunciation was in question *' Can't you say bou-quet instead of bo-kay ?" *' Bo-kay /" repeated Mrs. Gallagher again, enun- eiating each syllable with a painful degree of em- phasis. " You may as well let her alone !" said one of the others, as soon as she could speak for laughing. " Well, but, ma !" persisted Eliza, " a'nt it just as easy to say bouquet as bo-kay ?" *' And didn't I say bo-kay ?'' Eliza made a gesture of impatience, whereat her sisters laughed the more. Their mother stood with a bowl of eggs she was beating in one hand, and the egg-beater in the other, looking round the circle in open-mouthed bewilderment. At last she spoke — " Well, I declare, you're a tine set of girls ! — laughing at me because I can't get my tongue round a word that my mother before me, or my father cither, never heard or never said — no, nor their seven generations, I suppose, more than themselves ? Fine times, indeed !" and the egg-beater went to work with greater velocity than ever. *' Eliza admonished her sisters by a look that the " old woman" must be pacified. I say not that she acted on that particular text of the " collectivo wisdom of agiis" which says that a soft word turneth away lorath, >)ut, however it was, she gave tho gills the cue io exonerate themselves, which they hastened to do. ww4 '.'^i 1 &m •1 f. '■,'■■' '••■•I ti'vi'*.''-**^' i'1 1 :l 72 OLD AND NEW ; OR, ■! 1 '■) 1 ^ ii mm ■ . . , ■ Id Ml :iy'j " Why, ma ! it wasn't at you we were laughing— it was at Eliza, trying to teach you French !" " French ?" '* Yes, ma! you know bouquet is a French word." " Do you tell me so ?" said the mother with a look of newly-awakened interest. " Sure I might knov7 it was something by common, for it seemed to stick on my tongue like. Well ! see that now ! — many a strange thing I've seen in my time, but I never thought to see myself talking French." "Well! but don't try your baud — I mean your tongue — at it any more," said Eliza in a half-jest- whoie-earnest sort of tone, " tvhen you want to say bouquet again, be sure you say ' a bunch of flowers'— will you remember that? — you know it's one thing for us to put French names on things and another for yon to imitate us without knowing what you're Baying." Without giving her mother time to get oflfended at this pert speech Eliza went on very rapidly: **I hope when we give our party, ma! you'll let us have a bouquet? — won't you, now ?" " Bo-kayoY no bokmj^^ rejoined the mother, some- what testily, " the ne'er a party you'll have till you get into the new house, whatever lime that'll be.'* The young ladies were about to protest against this harsh decree, but their father's knock at the door Bent them all " about tlieir business" for the time being. ''I ■ s" fj\^K'i ■d 3om,e- 11 you )e.'» gainst door time iBTE VERSUS FASHION. If CHAPTER IV. RHBINFEL DT HOUSE — TASTE BUT NOT FASHION. Following the course of my veracious narrative, a am well pleased to conduct my readers to an old* fashioned residence some two miles farther up town, but much nearer the East River. The house waa cu the line of the First avenue, but it fronted on our, of the intersecting streets. The old mansion, for such it was, was not yet " crowded up" by those pretentious piles of building which are rapidly covering the surface of Manhattan Island above the business part of New York City. Happily for the lovers of antiquity and the votaries of true state, there are still to be found within the precincts of our overgrown city, not a few dwellings that remind us of the good old times when New Amster- dam was a staid and sober city, laying the founda- tiohs of the great wealth and prosperity since attained by New York. Here and there on the out- skirts of the great city, and occasionally even within its thoroughfares, these ancient dwellings of the real " New York aristocracy" strike the passing eye, their antique gables and high-pitched roofs half Been through the overhanging branches of their own '■ tall ancestral trees," whose gracefully varied foli- age forms a soft, and, as it were, protecting shade m ■ -'1 '• '-iV-i <■ m • -'I. v\ til" It. iU • > ' * ■,•" ■ " '-• ... hli'lSi:'; I ••) -, „ (■:. i I iiK ,ii1 1 'I'ii Ivi li. Yt OLD AND NEW J OR, around the mansion. And truly they are refreshing to h)ok upon, those homes of departed generations, for, independent of the quiet loveliness of the shady nook, the quaint simplicity of the house and its sur- roundings, you feel that refined and cultivated taste presided over their erection, seconded by ample means. Then imagination has free scope, for you know that men and women, very different from those we see around us, dwelt of old in those apart- ments, of whose interior you catch glimpses through the narrosv windows; that reverend age full often trod those shaded verandahs, and brave and noble lovers whispered vows to gently-nurtured maidens in the shade of those graceful lindens where the mur- muring fountain plays. Poetry and old romance glide hand in hand through the quiet alleys of the terraced garden, and the sunbeams that play amid the branches and sleep in beauty on the Telvet sward, are like spirits from the land of dreams. Old mem- ories hang in clusters round every graceful feature of the scene, and although they be not your own memories, although they have no answering chord in your heart, you can feel pleasure in the thought rtiat there are, and must be, hearts who understand their mute expression in inanimate objects — hearts who hold the key to their wealth of ancient lore, and can people the scene with forms and faces frostt their own domestic annals. Such a house is that to which we are now conducting the reader. With its pointed gabk 'i I I < TASTE VERSUS FASHION. 15 towards the river, and its antique front overlook- ing its own sloping lawn on street, it forms a graceful picture of the old, aristocratic days of New York. It was evidently a mansion of some note in the old, old time, and you whisper it softly to your- seli as you gaze on its double tier of covered veran- dalis extending round the gable facing the river, and partially screened from the public view by an ornamental lattice- work; its successive rows of old casement-windows ; the balustrade of light, open tracery running along the base of the roof; the long flight of stone steps descending from the principal entrance to the undulating ground beneath, fenced on either side by a heavy balustrade of white mar- ble; the classical urns of that costly stone surmount- ing pedestals of Doric simplicity on small artificial knolls on either side of the carriage-road that ends at the foot of the steps ; the venerable trees that here and there dot the broken ground between the house and the gate opening on the road, and the rare and beautiful shrubs so tastefully interspersed over the smooth grassy surface of the lawn. You wish to know something of the favored owners of that beautiful dwelling, who, and what manner of people they are who dwell among the shadows of so venerable a mansion. They cannot be, you say, the parvenus of New York societ}', the cormorants who have grown fat and lusty on the pennies and shillings of the poor, and are so infatuated by their own purse-proud vanity that they forget the dcpthi ,f. . ■v .ft 'K'' * i ■< '-''f^m ■ t ■ -1 :i.'ii 'Si , ".li \i ■i ■■"•: I lil'i 7r> OLD AN*) NEW ; OR, from which they have arisen and would soar to the upper regions of society without manners or educa- tion, or even common sense to steady their upward flight or secure them a firm footing in that world of Fashion to whose highest places they aspire. Reader, you are right in your conjecture ! — such were not the inmates of Rheinfeldt House — before which we have tarried perhaps " ower lang" for your patience. The cold clear moon of " brown October" wm sleeping on the lawn and the marble urns with the late autumn flowers lingering on their tops; and the balustrades and the light pil- lars of the verandahs, and the fast-stripping branches of the old trees, were all clearly defined in the silver sheen of the night ; and those mellow rays stole softly and silently through the latticed windows and rested, as it were in love on a scene within that would have fixed the eye and gladdened the heart of Peter Paul Rembrandt. Full in the light of a bright coal fire, blazing in the grate of a low, old-fashioned fireplace, sat an aged lady, whose venerable features were bordered, not concealed, by a widow's cap, beneath which her silver grey hair was smoothly parted on her high, pale forehead, but slightly furrowed by the wrinkles of age. The ample folds of her sable dress con- trasted strikingly with the colorless hue of her wan features, yet there was that in the clear outline of the face, the dark, piercing eyes, the sharp, aquiline nose, and the firm compression of the thin, pallid li-S^ Xl ng m at an lered, |h her high, Inkled con- wan e of t TASTE VER3US FASHION. t1 lips, that denoted uncommon energy of character. The face and the full, large figure, reclining in a deep arm-chair of massive proportions, formed a picture of reverend age, venerable but not de- crepit, and gave the impression of a well-pre- served ruin, stately even in decay. Kneeling beside the chair, on a low tabouret, with her head resting on the old lady's shoulder, and her ftice turned towards the window, was a younger lady, whose features, though cast in a different mould, had pre- cisely the same expression as those of the aged matron, and left little doubt on the mind regarding the degree of relationship existing between the two. It was not a girlish face, though still youthful, nor were the large hazel eyes, upturned to the silvery l)l!met that was floating through evening ether, the eyes of " a merry, laughing girl." There was deep thought, and, perhaps, deeper sadness, in their steadfast gaze ; and there was firmness of purpose and strength of will in the curve of the delicately- formed Roman nose and in the lines already forming round the beautiful mouth, then slightly open, like that of a person in a gentle slumber, showing teeth of pearly whiteness — shaded by soft rolls of glossy brown hair, it was a face that imprinted itself on your memory, and made you feel that the mind and heart beneath were high and generous and noble. There was a record of strange, perhaps untold, emo- tions in the depth of those radiant orbs. They were alone, the mother and daughter, and ■■v ; <}v. Vu'r.>':;r:^ ::"r1 ■■■■■'/■.;•. •:»!.■> < ■t ' ■,t \ ■■■*■/ ,aitii ' ''- '■ , •'i ' I ? i''t ' '': i I' •> t^' n OIJ) AND NEW ; OR, the only light in the room was that from the grate with the streams of moonlight shining in through the two windows and cheque-ed by the bars of the lozenge-shaped panes of the antique casement. The branches of the linden outside, with the few shri- velled leaves that still clung to them, formed a deli- cate and graceful tracery through the shadowy lat- tice-work that rested aslant on the floor on a " field argent." The remaining portion of the spacious apartment was enveloped in gloom made still deeper by contrast with the warm glow around the fire- place and the silvery light from the windows. Par- tially within the light stood a small octagonal table of dark polished oak, with heavy claw-shaped feet supporting the massive trunk or pedestal, and on it lay a large folio volume open, its outlines dimly visible. On the low broad mantel-piece, curiously and quaintly carved, stood a time-piece that might have been on duty there since the first fire gleamed from the capacious fireplace beneath, and over it hung a picture that seemed in the dim light a portrait. Curtains dark and heavy hung from fes- tooned valances over the windows in the style of our grandfathers' days, but their folds were drawn back on either side to admit the softened radiance from without and give, at the same time, a view of the starry heavens, that magnificent canopy whick from age to age *' Publishes to every land Th^ vbrk of an Almighty haiK*.'* ■ -.M\ TASTE VERSUS FASHION. 7» The lights and shades in that home-picture were 50 beautifully blended yet so clearly defined, and the group we have described presented so fair an illus- iiation of the Summer and the late Autumn of life, that one could have looked for hours into that room of lights and shadows, and fancied it a dief crcmivre of one of the old Dutch masters. But a soft, clear voice broke the spell, and you almost started to hear it, for the two figures were motionless as before. The bells of some far-off churches were ringing seven. " Mother !" said the dreamy voice, " do you not love to hear that chime ?" "That do I, Bertha!" the mother replied; "the sound of church-bells has ever been sweet to my ear, and now it is doubly sweet and doubly dear, for it seems like an echo from the past and calls the dead — our dead — back from their graves, so that I can almost look into their eyes. I can fancy it, too, my own knell, summoning me to join those gone before.*' " So that is the tale, theh, that the music of ' those Evening Bells* tells to you. To me, now, it is differ- ent," added Bertha with a grave smile, " and although they be not " ' The bells of Shandon That sound so grand on The pleasant waters of the River Lee,' heir tone is, to me, cheerful aud hope-inspiring. t is joy to hear them in this light and at this hour, with my head on your shoulder, mother ' Olj mother I I am happy !" lil's-/*' ■■; •3' 80 OLD ANQ NEW ; OR, •*4 r■:* J^^rt:-^ , ,'..7..- * ..' ' ■ ■ . -y ■ v.. *,!■■, ■ I . .1 ' 111 ' tit 82 OLD AND NEW ) OR, ■i ■•• ' ii -M " 1 1 which groves boasted, amongst other embellish* ments, •' ' statues gracing This noble place in — All heathen gods And nymphs so fair ; Bold Neptune, Plutarch, And Nicodemus, All standing naked In the open air.' " " Bless you, my dear Bertha !" said her mother tenderly, " it does me good to hear you talk so cheerfully. It reminds me of years long past, when my heart was as yours is now, overflowing with the fresh fragrance of life's early spring. Oh ! pleasant are the days of youth." " When looked back upon through the softening haze of years,*' added Bertha, again fixing her eyes on the fair orb of night. " The clouds that at times obscured their lustre when they were yet with us, have passed av/ay — even from our memory — the thorns that were wont to lacerate our feet are no more remembered — the skyof youth, viewed through the medium of vanished years, has no cloud ; the flowers we culled in youth had no thorns! Of course not I" and she laughed with strange bitter- ness. "Why, Bertha!" said her mother looking anx- iously into her eyes, " why. Bertha ! you talk as if you, too, were old !" " And I am old, mother ! older than you think. TASTE VKR8U3 FASHIOJf. 8S It seems to me I have lived a long, long time ! Indeed I scarce remember now when youth pasijed away — with its false visions, and its dear delusions, and all the rest of its charms." " When youth passed away ! why, my child, you are but in the summer of life — your sun is still high in the firmament, with no cloud to dim his lustre !" " Ha !" muttered Bertha, as a dark body of vapoi suddenly swept across the firmament, hiding the face of the silvery planet from her earnest gaze. " Ha ! so it is ! — nature has her clouds, too ! — mother, look there! you see clouds are never far distpnt! Even the glm-y we admired so late, ' the glory of moon and star,' is veiled as in a robe of mourning !" " But it will come again. Bertha ! it will como again — see the cloud is already passing away. So will it be with the clouds of life " Bertha slowly raised herself from her knees and stood looking down on her mother with a half- abstracted, half-conscious gaze ; " No, it is not so I" she said, or rather murmured to herself, " ' For man in this world no spring-time e'er returns'— never truer word did poet speak 1— there is no renewing for the lorn heart !" * The door-bell suddenly rang, and a man-servant opening the room-door, stood revealed in the glare of the gas from the hall without, a square, squat ngure with a large round head, laid, as it were, on his broad shoulders. " The youn^ woman of the dress she ask to sea ,v >.," ii •i *'' • Jl ' -1; r ■*M\\. ':r-' 1„ , Ulp, ii^; J^l^^ ll^i'Pif 84 or-n AND NEW ; or Madam or Miss !" said the man in a thick ^utteral voice. " Oh ! you mean Miss Waldron ?" said Bertha. " Yah !" " Show her in, Jan !" " Der Deyvil ! she will break her nose." " True, Jan !" said Bertha, laughing ; '' be so good as to light the gas !" From a portable match-safe, which he carried in his pocket, Jan drew forth a match, but the lighting of it was so tedious an operation that several minutes had elapsed before the yellow glare of the gas flashed on the heavy bronze candelabra and the equally heavy features of honest Jan. Then it took another minute or two to get the lights to a proper height. '■ You seem in no hurry, Jan," said his young lady quietly ; " I fear Miss Waldron will be tired waiting.'* " Good for her !" said Jan with a nod, which he, doubtless, meant to be significant. He propelled himself towards the door, looking back over his shoulder and nodding again. The mother and daughter exchanged meaning glances, and both smiled. " Poor Jan !" said Uie old lady in an under tone, after he had disappeared ; " poor Jan ! even he has suftered from the prevail- ing epidemic — if not in his person, at least in his pocket." " Yea, verily, and in his peace of mind !" said ., 1; TASTE VERSUS FASHION. 8i Bertha. *' To ray knowledge he has been a miserable man ever since . Good evening, Miss Waldronl I am sorry you have been kept waiting." Miss Waldron made two very low curtseye, having first placed a large bundle she brought on a vis-a-vis near her. Then she smiled a grave, sedate smile. " Oh ! I know who to blame for that, Miss Von Wiegel ! — you sc<^ Jan and I are not as good friends as we used to be, ever since — ever since " " Since his spouse Betty took to the fashions." " That's just what I was going to say, miss 1 only I couldn't get my tongue right about it." " Poor Betty !" said the young lady compas- sionately. " Have you brought the dresses, Misa Waldron ?" " Well, indeed, miss ! I*m sorry — that '?>, T regret to say, I have only your mother s donc; — I was so busy- 11 What ! ex'5uses agam »>» said Bertha, with a smile which encouraged the dressmaker to go on. " God bl'^88 you, miss !" broke involuntarily from her iipS; ' it's you that never said a hard word to mri a'' the times I ever disappointed you !'* " And that was pretty often, you must admit ! Well ! I didn't want it very particularly at this time " "Sure I knew that, miss! I kno >: you never want your dresses very badly, and besides, I always take a liberty with you and the old mAdatn that I wouldn't take, or daren't take, itl? .'• *. ■l^lliKr' ^'»"' w. 4 86 OLD AND NEW ; OK, i.i<^.:*'-' V. i¥'r^':'' !-^;'^-H^: :4: J- ... .. t M 4. ■/i.. fashicnadle ladies, such as are going now-a-days . God knows it's the hard earned money one makes trying to humor them, and make — L,nd make " "Make what?" asked the younger lady, stili smiling. " Why, * a silk purse out of a sow's ear' — begging yoar pardon, ladies." " Fie ! fie ! Miss Waldron," said the old lady, though she could not help smiling, too — " you should not be so hard on the fashionable ladies who ai*e, of course, your best customers. Were the ladies of New York all like my daughter and me " *'I wish to God they were, madam!" exclaimed the dressmaker with honest warmth. •* My mother means in regard to dress, I believe I" *' I know what she means, miss ! and it's what 1 mean, too ! dear only knows but I'm sick enough of the fashions, and the nonsense and extravagance I see wherever I go almost, and the airs people put on to hide their own ignorance — but then, you know, ladies ! 1 couldn't say that everywhere — a body must live come what may, and it wouldn't do for a dress maker " " A rnodiste /" suggested Bertha slily. " You're a great rogue, Miss Von W^iegel ! that's what you are !" said the dressmaker laughing — at least as near laughing as she could venture to do in that presence. " Will it please you, madam ! to lei me fit on your dress ? I can go up stairs and wail tiiii you (x>me !" ;.#• TASTE VERSUS FASHION. li " It is quite uimecessaiy, Waldron !" said tha stately old lady condescendingly, "ray daughter will try it on after we retire, and we can let you know how it fits when you come with her dress." "Whenever that may be," added her daughter; but changing her tone she said with assumed gravity: *' 1^0 w, mind, mademoiselle la mocliste ! no moro ex- cuses, if you value ray favor!" " Never fear, miss ! n jver fear ! — now that I'vfl got the moire antiques off my hands." " What inoire antiques V " Oh 1 a dozen or so I had in hands, besides satins, brocades, gros de Naples, satin Turques, tarltons, gauzes and Lord knows what — all for '■Lil Smithes party P " " Lil Smith's party 1 and pray who is Lil Smith ?'* '' Well ! to tell the truth. Miss Von Wiegel !" replied the dress-maker with her serious smile, " I know more about her party than I do about herself. I think her father keeps a blacksmith's shop some- where down town, but, of course, the family lives uf) town — ever so far up." " And so they were giving a party lately ?" " A party ! oh dear yes. miss ! quite a party, I as- dure you ! I've been working for it, myself, and the girls — I keep four^ you know — this last month or five weeks. I guess I made a matter of a hundred dollars by it. But, dear me : ladies, there's moro bother — I mean more trouble, with such people than their work is worth. Yofi can have no idea of iba mm > ■■ J* mil!! 1^ *i< 88 OLD AND XE"W ; OR, '■I '. 5,: % M)i ^^wipp \Ml way they're wrapt up in dress, and the misery they're in if they see any one of their acquaintances — they have no friends — a little tiner rigged out than themselves. And as sure as one is seen in a new dress — especially if it's anything past the com- mon, all the rest are on the alert and never know rest or peace till they get one like it — or better, If they can." " Well ! I must say," observed the young lady very gently, " that I cannot understand such a state of affairs, but do you mean to say that the whole city is bitten with this foolish mania ?" " Indeed I do, miss ! — it's like a plague it's got to be, and I tell you it ruins more families and makea more misery than any plague. What's worst of all, it brings tens of thousands of poor unfortunate girla to destruction that might be virtuous and honest if it wasn't for it. It does as much mischief as rum or gin — indeed, indeed it does !'* *' Why, Waldron !" said the old lady raising her- self in her chair, " you seem to forget that you make your living by this same folly !" " If it please you, madam ! I do not forget," said the really intelligent and right-minded modiste with mournful solemnity : " I know I live by it, and aa there are plenty to do it if I don't, I'm glad to have it for a means of living. If the love of dress — one might call it the worship of dress — could be confined to the rich it wouldn't be half so bad, and, perhaps, I'd never say a word against it, but when it gets iii i I I I i TASTK VERSUS FASHION. Sf lid ith jvo liiti id 1)8, among the workiug-classes, and the poor, it's then it does the harm, and too often brings want and hardship, and sin and shame with it. Oh ! if you only knew the ruin it causes both to body and soul amongst the poor working girls of this one city — as well as I do — you wouldn't wonder to hear me speak as I do ! — of course I wouldn't speak so only I know I'm in the presence of real ladies and good Cliris tiaus, too, that care nothing about dress only just to keep themselves covered decently^ a body might say!" " In the spirit of our mother Eve when the com- menced dressmaking," said Bertha archly. " Ah ha, miss ! there you have me again ;" and Miss Waldron, in a pleasant little excitement, has- tened to apologize for having made so free as to j,-abble away before two such ladies, then taking up the bundle desired to know if she would leave it up stairs before she went away. *' Der deyvil ! no, you shan't !" said a grumbling voice from behind a large old-fashioned Indian screen at the farther end of the room, and Jan, shuffling forward as fast as his heavy bulk would permit, laid hold of the bundle. " No, you shan't," said he, "I go up myself mit it. You go 'bout your business way from Betty. No more silk dresses — I tell you dat nmv /" And the old servitor nodded emphatically at the obnoxious modiste. The ladies looked at each other and smiled. liii.^' «» 4 H' 5-' If,. ■" ■I " I. «V ■ \ \ '■"1*. ; •• "a'j' ftl^ 90 OI-D AND NEW ; OR, " But pray, Jan !" said his young mistress, " ho^ came you in the room ?" Jan looked sheepish enough as he stammered out by way of apology: "Dat ole Shinese fellow dat ole Madam tell me to fix up dis morning- " "Hush — sh--sh!" said Bertha with an authorita* live gesture, "you terrible old man! have I not told you before that that statue represents a ChriBtian missionary in Japan?" " Yah ! well him — de Chrishin mishin man — I was — I was " Miss Waldron could hardly heep her countenance, the old lady turned her face towards the fire, and Bertha, assuming a very stern look, said : " Never mind what you were doing to the Chris- tian missionary, but show Miss Waldrcn out, and mind, Jan !" holding up her finger, " mind, no saucy talk on the way !'* Miss Waldron made the same profound reve- rence as on entering, and retired, promising to bring Miss Von Wiegel's dress on an early day of the following week. The early tea of the small family was long over and whilst Jan proceeded to close the shutters, and stir the fire, and place the chess-table in front of the old Madam's chair, the ladies conversed in French on the prevailing extravagance in dress, following up the train of thought suggested by Miss Wal- dron*s sensible remarks. " It fs something very strange," said Bertha, as shfl , f': '■w t ■ TASTF, VERSUS FASHION. 91 turned over the leaves of the large volume before mentionerl — it was an old German " Lives of the Saints," published at Munich. " It is something very strange that in none of the old European capi- tals — not even excepting Paris — does this vanity of dress and show exercise so potent an influence or engross so much attention as it does here in this comparatively new city." " And yet it is not so very strange, my dear, when you come to think of it," replied her mother. " It is precisely because of their newness that New York and some other American cities are so much given to the frivolities of fashion. It is the natural eifect of the levelling institutions of the country. In new countries like this where the lines of distinction be- tween the different classes of society are not so clearly defined, the people — never much given to reflection — fall into the very natural but very absurd error of supposing that fine dress, fine ^louses and fine furniture will command that distinction which in older countries and a more refined state of societ) belongs only to birth, social position, cultivation of taste and refinement of manners. The great ma- jority of the people in this part of the New World have drifted hither from old Europe in search of a bare living, denied them at home — being here, they very often succeed in making not only a living but a fortune.'* '* And having made the fortune they must lead . 5 ■ I, ,4 .•■'■,• i-v.^'i;!i,' .'* i ^4*^* m %' 'A' •'V'.'"-'X :»..* I '-■t ■4-7 ' . It 15 92 OLD AND NEW ; OR, the fashions and astonish others who are not so luckj as themselves." " Precisely, my dear ! — they know of no other way to distinguish themselves. So the malaria generated in the hot-bed of folly in what is face- tiously called * good society' speedily infects ever class in the community till it becomes the plague our good modiste not unaptly designates it. From the parlor it spreads to the kitchen, thence to the workshop, and so on through the whole range of states and callings." The chess-men were now arranged on the board in battle-array, and the mischievous pranks of dame Fashion were soon forgotten in the quiet excitement of the noble gapo^. ' ■ -A. .-....> -if ' • ■ , , 'ft' '.If- ?H^ TASIK VERSUS FASHION. )3 CHAPTER V. A FASHIONABLE WEDDING WITH OTHER MATTERS THERETO APPERTAINING. The Gallaghers had their new house completed and moved into it in due form. The Fogartys had been some two or three months settled in theirs. Great doings followed these auspicious events. *' House-warmings" were, of course, given, and a series of grand entertainments " came off" by way of return. The fashionable circle in which the Gal- laghers and Fogartys made their evolutions was kept in a delightful state of commotion that whole winter, and no less than eight matches came off dur- ing and immediately after the festivities. Amongst these vas one which united the rivju houses of Gal- lagher and Fogarty just as a similarly auspicious event united the houses of York and Lancaster. Would that v/e could say the union of Sam Fogarty, the eldest hope of his house, w^ith Eliza the matronly head of the six Miss Gallaghers, had, indeed, united the rival factions, and for ever terminated the strife of jealousy. But, alas 1 the strife of Fashion is no less bitter than the strife of blood, and at times its effects Qi'e more enduring. The two families met, it would seem as one, on the joyous occasion — the calumet was smoked around the council-fire where H^-' '■'.f. :.:>«• .5' i V f: I» •I i. '• -". ■i ■ r '*• ; • •, «<•" •i ,11 ..|,il '' ;.l! 11 94 OLD AND NEW ) OR, the elders came together to arrange preliminaries^ and the hatchet was buried tor ever and a day. Tom Gallagher and his wife were well pleased to get Eliza off their hands just when she was verging on " the upper shelf" of maidenhood, and as Sara was known to be of business habits, and had just been taken into partnership by his father, the pros- pects were most favorable. The Fogartys, on the other hand, were just as well satisfied, seeing that although Tom did not feel it convenient to give Eliza anything in the shape of a dower, he went shares in fitting up a fine house for the young cou- ple, and promised something handsome after his death — which event was a dim perspective, for Tom had apparently as good a hold on life as either of the con- tracting parties. So the course of true love did run smooth on this occasion — perhaps owing to its greater depth. Tt had but a short way to run, however, for about sis weeks after Sam had whispered the first " so/t thing" into Eliza's " well-pleased ear," he bolaly and resolutely " popped the question," and in two weeks after bagged his game — was blessed with the hand (and probabiy the heart) of the fair Eliza, and like the baron that " dazzled the eyes andbewilder'd the brain" of the faithless and " fair Imogene," he iu blissful triumph bore her from the pateruaJ roof, ** And carried her home as his bride." The carrying home, however, was a rather more circuitous affair than the worthy ancestors of thp i hv^. '^^' TASTE VERSUS FASHK N'. 95 M happy couple could at all have realized in tW/ day. Some fifteen hundred miles of the American Conti' nent — perhaps we might say two thousand — had to be steamed over by land and water before t)\e *Sa- muel C. Fogarty, Esq., whose raari-iage with Eliza^ eldest daughter of T, Gallagher, Esq., the city papers had recorded in such flourishing style, arrived with his fair yoke-fellow at the door of the Gallagher mansion one dreary wet evening in early Spring from the Hudson lliver liailroad depot in Cham- bers street. On the day of the wedding a large patty of the friends and relatives assembled by previoi^s invita- tion to witness the ceremony in — — street Church — which mode of expression New York Fashion substitutes for the dedicatory name of the Church. A sumptuous breakfast awaited the return of the new-married couple, with their four bridesmaids and as many groomsmen (or standers-up witi> the groom rather) — and a dozen or so of " favored guests." At the close of their splendid repast, adorned and appetized with all the art and Pkill which a fashionable restaurateur and an equiiUy fash- ionable confectioner could bring to bear on the viandes, pates, confitures and all the rest, the happy couple (with the two Miss Gallaghers next in se- niority to Eliza) started on a tour to Niagara Falls, thence by the lower lakes to Toronto and Kings- ton, thence by the St. Lawrence and its Thousand ales and its surging Kapids to Montreal and Que- '1- ' :, ■ ' ;* ' ^ 1- t ;', f: r i. .V v>--v .%. IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) 1.0 I.I 1.25 iff iia m 1.4 ||M I™ 1.6 P /J *^ o el ■c'l i"^ o /a °% ?>' /; / /A HI Sciences Corporation 23 WEST MAIN STREET WESSTER,N.Y. 14580 (7)6) 872-4503 W iV iV \\ "% s \j V ^9,^ ^x^ A. .^

. I ' i l1J^-'\ m !^- ■>1^ -. -i '• 1 i ..: !<«• 96 OLD AND NEW ; OR, bee, thence by Lake Cbamplain and the HudsoQ River Railroad back to New Y )rk and " the old house at home," where a family-party was assem- bled to meet them, as their near approach had been duly transmitted " over the wires." It was Sam's boast ever after that his wedding- tour had cost him a matter of a thousand dollars — not altogether for the travelling expenses but, of course, the girls — meaning his bride and her two sisters — had so many knick-knacks to buy in the various cities along the route that it took that, at least, to clear him of the tour. On the day when the happy couple started at once on their honeymoon and their tour, Henry Hackett was holding a colloquy over the counter with a smart middle-aged woman of that description which the Scotch Lowlanders would call " douce" and we neat and comely. She had got through with her business in the store, merely giving an order, and was now engaged in a sociable chat with the shop- keeper. " So you tell me you weren't at the wedding, Mr. Hackett?" " Is it me, Betty ? oh ! then, indeed, I wasn't — we all got an invitation to go to the Church in the morn- ing, but that was all. The girls went because they wanted to see how the bride and bridesmaids looked and what they wore — as for Michael anci myself you may be sure we didn't bother ourselves going next or nigh them. We knew well enough they didn't i. 1 i TASTE VERSUS FASHION. «t want us there, so we took precious good care not to liiouble them." " You done just what you ought to do, Mr. HaO" kett ?" said Betty with more emphasis than the oc- casion seemed to require ^ " it's too good for them you*d be, the best day ever they'll see — the coi. ^eit of them people and the airs they put on them is past the common ! Not to ask you — and you at the door with them ! Och, then, Henry !" drawing a step nearer and throwing more feeling into her voice, " how different it was at home when a yomig couple went together !" " You may well say that, Betty Haucher !" replied Henry with an unobtrusive sigh ; " many a good wed- ding I was at in my early days at home in Ireland where there was full and plenty for all comers and a cheerful welcome into the bargain — where all that came were friends and well-wishers and brought joy and happiness with them to the feast. It isn't to have their comether on what this one or that one wore, or to see who'd make the greatest show — no — no — no 1 they went there because they knew they were wel- come, imd wanted to help up the fun and the harm- less merriment, and to show their good wish to the bride and groom. The only rivalry betwixt them was to see who'd hold out the longest when they got footing it away in the evening, or maybe who'd get the most countenance fiom his reverenca at the head of the dinner-table, where he sat in state with the bride on one side and the groom Mm w^ m m& m ?v-ir iflttf Jm : M 1 i0 - ^ 98 OLD AND NEW ; OR, .» ;;••' -' " i«i ■ " ^ ' ". ■'m ' :. i •■4i\j , ; 1 f n the other. And then the hauling-home a week tir two after, and the horsemen all riding for the (ottle ! — oh, Betty ! Betty ! them were something Hke weddings ! There were no silks, or satins, or jewelry, or frizzled locks — no receptions or wed ding-towers, but there was peace, plenty and con- tentment — and that's what there isn't at your fa&hionahle weddings here, for under all them fine dresses there's a fire of one kind or another scorch- ing every heart — and, everything is cold and grand n-id deceitful /" " Dear knows an' it's true for you," said Betty wiping a tear from her eye ; " the people at homo had their heart in everything of the kind — whether it was wedding or chriojcning, or hauling-home or what it was; but sure there can't be much heart in such things here where all's for show, and every one*s trouble is to cut a greater dash than their neighbors. Still I'm not sayin,' Henry ! but I like a bit of dress as well as another, and would wish, if I could come at it, to turn out decently myself on a Sunday when I go to Church — ^I got a new silk dress, as elegant a one as you*d see, about a month ago, but if I didn't dear buy it my name's not Betty Haucher !'* "Why, how was that, Betty?" asked Henry Hackett trying to suppress a smile. " Oh ! you see our ladies never want to see the likes of me wear silk at all — they have such odd notions about dress, you never seen anything likt TASTE VERSUS FASHION. 99 it — aiifl then Jan was outrageous in a manner to see me layin* out the money, though I'm sure it was my own hard earning. How-and-ever he has a black lace on him ever since and will hardly open his lips to me. So between my old man's sulky face and the smiles and hints of the old Madam and Miss Bertha I tell you I've got the worth of it — I have so !'* " Now that you speak of your ladies," said Henry with renewed attention — "and its Indies you may call them — are they Germans, or Americans, or what ?" " Americans ? — not they, indeed ! Guess again, now,*' said Betty, laughing. Henry half closed his eyes and looked at her very shrewdly. " Well ! what can I guess ? They can*t be Irish — that's plain '* " Is it, indeed ?" " Why. of course it is. Sure there never was such a name as Von Wiegel in Ireland ?'* " Like enough ; but then there was in the Rhine country, wherever that is — and a grand old name it eeems it is — so our Jan tells me, and you know he comes from there himself ^" " The Rhine country ! — where's this that is ? I must ask Michael — he's a great hand at ge-o-gra - phy " Michael being summoned to the council-board — the counter, namely — was not long in furnishing the desired information, which was promptly caught hold of by his father ; m •71?-' M"! ^F.n Vi'; n mr ■•. 1';," 100 OLE AND NEW ; OR, '.I ;:;^)-rf. « - »!;'Kii ', J' ! r !•** 1 ,.,?1- *l '"■i, '■', ^ 1 , T i ■ ' V'^ " Why, then, to be sure it is Jarmany ; what came over me that I forgot it — and so, Betty ! your ladiei are Dutch " " No, they're iwt Dutch," said Betty gruffly, her untutored ear rejecting the \^ord, proba,bly on &c« count of certain associations coiinected with it. " If they're from the Rhine country," said the erudite Michael, " they're not Dutohj father ! — they're Germans !" " Poh ! nonsense, man ! it's all the same " " Why, no, father ! it isn't the same, begging youi pardon " " And V, hat's the difference, Michael ?" asked thf father with seeming impatience, but real satisfac- tion, being well pleased to draw out the full extent of his son's geographical knowledge before his old acquaintance, Betty Connelly, who was from the door with him at home. " Why the difference isn't much, father !" said Michael with that dry humor whicii was peculiar to him, " only that the Dutch come from Holland and the Germans from Germany — that's all." Harry looked at Betty, as much as to say : " Isn't he a knowledgeable chap for his age ?" and Betty looked at Harry as much as to say : " I protest he is !" " Well ! well !" said Harry aloud, " that'll do— you may go back to yoar work, Michael !" Michael had been weighing and making up tiny parcels of tea, sugar, ' ^ ^\ J ."•! ' ^ ; , « . ■ C'^ 102 OLD AND NEW ; OTt for there was something in this story — broken and fragmentary as it was — that struck a chord in Michael's heart, which organ contained, amongst other component parts, a certain quantum of romance, all the stronger, perhaps, for being pent up in a small corner and necessarily concealed from the outer world. " How did the Von Wiegels come to be in New York?" " Why, Michael !" said his father, " did you nevet hear of the Von Wiegels before now ?" " Well no, except seeing the name on our own books, since Betty got us the custom of the family." " But, you booby ! aren't the Von Wiegels one of the oldest Dutch familici^— ?> " Jarman, Mr. Hackett !" put in Betty. " Well ! well ! it's always Dutch / heard them called — old Dutch — but whatever they are, Dutch or Jarman, I've heard of them this many a year as one of the first families here, and the oldest.'* " But my old master — the Ritter — Heaven rest his soul! wasn't here till about ten years agone, when he fell into all the Von Wiegel property in New York, on the death of his brother that died onmarried." " And was your young lady brought up here ?" " Oh dear no, Mr. Hackett ! she was brought up n Jarmany and in Ireland — she was most of hef ame in Ireland, though, with her mother's people- it seems her grandmother and one of her aunts had turned Catholic — for she didn't care to come out to ■;';i:.fi" Taste versus fashiov. 103 America when the old lady and gentleman came, and they were so wrapped up in her, you see, that they wouldn't cross her, so, to please her, they let her stay on and on with her grandmother and hei Aunts and uncles, at the old castle in Ireland, until kIic came out post-haste herself when she got word of her father being in bad health. But, Lord bless nie ! here I am clattering away, and they'll be won- dering at home what in the world kept me so long — Jan will have my life, for he wants to go down town on some business for the old mistress. God be with ye, Mr. Hackett ! till I see you again, and mind you don't forget to send the things as soon as you can !" The Miss Hacketts were not so philosophical as their father with regard to the slight put upon them by the Gallaghers. They had gone to some expense to provide suitable dresses for the grand party that was to follow the reception, counting on an invita- tion which they had every reason to expect, seeing that they had been invited to witness the ceremony. The shock was dreadful, then, when after two weeks of all but certain expectation they found themselves disappointed. The bridal party returned, and pre- parations were set on foot for "the party." A week or two after, the grand reception took place, followed by a ball and supper for the elite — but, glas! the miss Hacketts were consigned to dull oblivion — no invitation had been sent them, and they were reduced to the dire necessity of staying ,"< ..... , Wir* r& m: Wi I :y4 19^ ; ■:•"•■ 4 ' ;• *• ,. >!-^" .) : ■'•% ''•; ■" i • * i . f « , , j! ;..: M, r * t* rv I'm I • 104 OLD AND KEW ; OR, at home all that weary day, and watching from their old station behind the blinds the current and counter-current of Fashion sweeping in and out of No. 66 through the stately door which lay invitingly open — not so much, we suppose, in remembrance of the penalty imposed by that strong-minded prin- cess, Granu Wail of happy memory, on the in- hospitable Barons of Howth, for having their doors closed at meal-time, as to expedite the labor of ushering the guests in and out, which that day de- volved on an extremely dandified colored gentleman in white kids. Truly it was a hard trial for the patience of the Miss Hacketts to witnesss so imposing a display of Fashion and magnificence from which they were cruelly debarred. As carriage after carriage rolled up— most of them from " the stands," it is true, but then our New York hacks are quite different from those of poor " doited" old Europe — they are really splendid affairs, equally fit to grace a fashionable wedding and a fashionable funeral — and each depo- sited its load of gents, " puffed, powdered and shaved," and ladies in full dress, with opera- cape on back and satin slippers on feet, heads that might liave ornamented barbers' windows, they were such perfect miracles of the/n seur^s art — and as much gold on necks, bosoms, wrists and fingers as would have stocked a nice little store in Broadway for a jeweller commencing trade — as al! this vision of glory passed before the eyes of the lone watchers at the window ,«,.■ % ;5-«!< TA3TK VERSUS FASHION. 105 of tho shabby two-story brick, and they recognized one after another of their former schoolmates and present (occasional) companions, oh ! it was gall and wormwood — a pretty hard dose to swallow ! so hard, indeed, that it brought the tears to the six fair eyes of the three disconsolate Miss Hacketts. They had no resource — none in the wide world — > but to imitate the fox in the fable and cry " sour grapes !" and " sour gi-apes !" they did cry with a vengeance. They all at once made the astonishing discovery that if the Gallaghers Imd asked them they wouldn't have gone. Not they, indeed ! Lil Smith's pai'ty was everything fine compared to this odious reception, hn Sm'th, in the identi- cal nether-garments and fr« jk-coat, the scant pro- portions of which had p^ordod so ir; ich amusement at and after 'I'.s daught».i's mum ;i*able party. "Well! upon my word! if that a'nt rich! — but stay, let us see vhat's camlvig!" "Oh dear! oh dear! Mrs. iSmith herself as fat as ever and stuffed into the very identical same ccpper- colored satin 1 — but to be sure she has a pink opera- cape trimmed with white swan's down — and such a stylish cap — well ! after that !" " Stop ! stop ! there's Lil ! let us see what she has got on ! A beautiful new silk I declare I my 1 that is lovely !" " Lovely !" cried Sarah, with a gesture of con- tempt, " why, Ann-Wilbelmina ! where are your eyes ? A fiaring, glaring pink 1 It's excessively vulgar !" "Well! now, /don't think so," put in the younger Bister, " I'm like Ann — I admire that pink, and I really think it looks sweet with that nice biAck trimming, and that elegant black lace scarf thrown over it——*' '^ '^i'i^\ tk'i .k-' M i;;: .1 ■) «i^'-^: 'r: •I. 'i:; J''' ■ -••■> ;.■ 'r i 108 OLD AND NKW ; OR, '• Elegant, indeed !" repeated Sarah with ineffable contempt, " much you know about what's elegant, or what's not, Mary ! When pa brought home that horrid old daub of a picture the other day, you must go and tell him it was elegant, though it wasn't worth carrying home, and there we have it now for an ornament whether we like it or no — just look at it, now ! a'nt it elegant ?" And she mim- icked Mary's tone so accurately that the younger sister bristled up, and was about to make a very saucy answer when Michael's waggish little old- fashioned face appeared at the door, which he had noiselessly opened a little way and was peeping in evidently much amused by what was going on. " That's right, girls ! that's right ! calm weather's dull weather. How goes the reception ?" " Like yourself, Mike ! so — so !" " I guess'd as much." " Why so, you jack-a-napes ?" " How could it go well when the three Miss Hac- ketts are not there ?" A race was made towards Michael, intent unknown, but Michael was too nim- ble for the " womankind," and the Graces retunied to their station at the window out of breath from their wild-goose chase and the laughter following thereupon. That evening when Michael came up to tea after his father had gone down to replace him in the store, he renewed the subject, and asked his sisters what notes of observation they had taken. • - hfe TASTE VERSUS FASHION. 109 "None at all," was the sullen answer. " Why, can't you tell us who was there — who went in, I mean ? Did you see Miss Von Wiegel ?" The girls were immediately on the alert. *' Why my no, Michael ! how could we see her? sure that's the grand lady Miss Waldron told us about I woM giv anything at all to see her." " Well!" said Michael very composedly, *' /saw her this afternoon — and was speaking to her, too !" "Dear me 1 Michael, how did you come to see her ?" chorused the sisters. " I didn't co77te — I we}it — with the groceries." " The groceries ! why you donH mean to say the Von Wiegels deal with pa ?" *' They just do, then, and I went home with the groceries that their servant- woman ordered." " Well ! well ! and what did you Beo ? who did you see?" " I saw a nice, cozy old-faahioned house over on the Avenue, a great Newfoundland dog lying on a mat in the porch, and he barked at me as I passed — he did, indeed, girls !" "Well?" " A great tall clock in the kitchen, going tick, tick, tick, ar natural as life, and a range with a beautiful bright fire in it blazing away like fun through the bars ~" *' Well, well, and what more ?'* '* And a thick-set, sour-looking German servant called Jan, and his wife Betty — an Irishwoman from fV*' l5I m '>';ii v^ii} 'M .if:] »*,. ■■■'■'vsHiii'; '".1 :^i^; ■ ,:^ v;;;:M ■ '••'■1..^'*' 110 OLD AND NEW ; Oil, father's place at home — it was she that got the ladiei to give us their custom " '• But what else. I mean who else did you see ?" " I saw — Miss Von Wiegel !" " What ! in the kitchen ?" " Yes ! in the kitchen !" " And what on earth was she doing there ?" " Cooking !" " Cooking !"— "Miss Von Wiegel cooking!"— "My goodness ; and what was she cooking ?" " I didn't ask her," said Michael drily ; " Betty tells me she's always making nice things to try and coax the old lady to eat because she hasn't much of an appetite." " And did she speak to you, Michael ?'* " She did." " And what — what did she say ?" " She asked me to go over and have an air of the arc:' " * An air of the fire !' — my ! that's just what any common Irish person would say !" " Well ! Irish or no Irish that's what she said.'* " But what did she wear, Michael ?" — " Yes ! yes ! Michael! tell us what sort of dress she had on." " Some kind of a brown stuff, I think you womea call it Coburg, and a black silk apron and a small linen collar !" " Nonsense, Michael ! yon re only making fun of as!—— '>' .'f»i TASTE VERSUS rASHION. Ill i " Just as if a grand young lady like Miss Von Wiegel would be seen wearing a coramoii Coburg !'* " How green he takes us to be !" *' Well ! green or blue, I tell ycu what I saw," said Michael with unmistakeable sincerity ; " you may believe me or not, just as you please !" Tlie sisters saw plainly that Mio/hael was in earnest, and, what was more, they could not get ano- ther word out of him about the Von Wiegels. They were so shocked, however, at what they had heard, that the family fell several degrees in their estima- tion, and they speedily arrived at the sapient conclu- Hion that they (the Von Wiegels) were " no so great shakes after all P' Michael turned a look on them as he left the room that made them feel smaller than they ever thought to feel themselves, and they heard him ginging as he descended the stairs : " The ladies all are come to town, They're ever so neat and handy, 1 The red, the fair, the black, the brown, Mavrone, but they're the dandy, !" &mm isl? >'. > ' ifl w ■■■■ v-;» '"xii mm "^•iur-v '*;•;*;'«? '■'■A*' *•*■'.! V .•• Q&i ,1, ,< ■■' ■ . «"*!' lilt ' m m •ji *'; 'ill Si! 114 OLD AND NEW ; OR, the vicinity of Castle Mahon where .he mother had been brought up and where the daughter had spent 80 many of the years of her life. " Yes!" said the old lady with a natural sigh, and a fixed abstracted look, " I remember them all as though I had seen them but yesterday. The green swelling hills sloping down to the rich holmes by the river side — the dark woods broken into pictur- esque forms — the craggy rocks jutting here and there through their tufted foliage — the huge pile ol grey stones crowning the grassy hillock ^" " Ha ! the Druid's seat !" interrupted Bertha, with a flushed cheek and a kindling eye; "yes! yes! I remember thai^* — her mother lifted her head and looked at her through her gt)ld-mounted spectacles. "I should think you would," she said, rather dryly, " it used to form quite a prominent object in the landscape." "And what an object, mother!*' said Bertha with A tremor in her voice that she tried to conceal by ialking on in a hurried and somewhat excited man* Qer, " what a vignette it would make for a work on (rish Archaeology sitting there on its 'bonnie broom inowe' in the sylvan glade, that old, old memento of Ireland's elder day ! It carries the mind back to the ante-Christian period of Irish history when the Druids held men's souls and bodies in thrall, and exercised their priestly functions at the cromleach hard by, and worshipped in the shade of the sacred grove tLat crowned the neighboring hill. The TASTE VERSUS FASHION. 115 j^ove is gone ages since, but the cromleach re» mains " " And the judgment-seat," added the mother, and again she fixed her calm eyes on Bertha's face. " The vignette, you know ! By the bye, Bertha I did you ever hear any of the wild traditions con- nected with that chair ?" " Y — yes, no — yes, I believe " " A very satisfactory answer, truly," said her mo- ther with a faint smile. " And, pray my very lucid and intelligible daughter, what did you hear in rela- tion to the Druid's Chair ?'* "Why, mother!" said Bertha, with great appa- rent simplicity, " I read many speculations concern- ing it in the pages of our learned antiquaries— i> " There is more said ' concerning it' by the fire- sides of the peasantry," said her mother pointedly, " and I marvel much if a young lady so fond of tra- ditionary lore can have failed to learn the weird character of the Druid's Chair, and the strange tales told of it around Castle Mahon- »j A shadow fell on Bertha's face ; it might be a passing cloud that cast it, but no cloud, however charged with electric force, could cause the creeping shudder that ran through her frame. She laughed, nevertheless, and muttered to herself with Isabella in the Fatal Marriage *' Would I were past the bearing I" She looked round the room — no figure was to be ml W m fc J-'tt ■'.V'V *■ • "•11 ".'* V ^^4 : ({ T48TE VERSUS FASHION. lid " And you have no hope of benefiting them, but count on caving their children ?" " Precisely, madam !" said Mrs. Buraford ; " the wretched parents are beyond the reach of spiritual Buccor. What do you think a horrid low Irishwo- man told one of our fellow-laborers the other day, when she endeavored to move her hardened heart to repentance?^' " I really cannot guess, but I should like to hear." " Well ! she told her, mv dear madam ! — Excuse me — I actually tremble, so that I can — hardly — ven- ture to — repeat the wicked words. They are too shocking for Christian ears to hear or Christian tongue to utter.'* " Pray compose yourself, and favor us so far ! My daughter and I have tolerably strong nerves." " Well !'* said Mrs. Bumford, making a desperate effort to expel the soul-defiling words from her Christian mouth : " She told our dear Christian sis- ter that the devil was the first Protestant — she did, in- deed. Madam Von Wiegel ! and that people could get to heaven without ever reading the Bible " " What a degree of hardihood she must have had, that * low Irishwoman !* " "But that wasn't the worst of it, my dear madam !" said Mrs. Hopington, coming to the rescue of her dear exhausted sister. " Indeed ! Why I should think, after throwing the Bible overboard, and traoiiig the pedigree of mmm- ■(,,■: '-4 ' 'd-'-'^H :iiL;i 1^^:"'^ 120 .1:. "I '•. Ill OLD AND NEW ; OR, ProteSbantism up to the arch-rebel Lucifer, you. 'low Irishwoman* could go no farther." " She did, though. She told us we were all a set of humbugs, going about preaching religion to them that had the true religion, if they only had the grace to practice it, and that it would be fitter fo! us be at home darning our stockings than trying to inveigle poor children from their lawful par-ents, and get them in by hook or by crook to our Mission- house." " How insulting !" " How shockingly rude !" ejaculated the mother and daughter. " Was it not ? — but what do you think the vile creature called our Mission ?" " I'm sure I don't know." " Well ! she called it a man-trap." *^ Soul-trap^ dear! I think wai the word," sug- gested the other Missionary very gently " Yes, so it was, — well ! she called it a soul-trap, and said it would be better for the poor children caught in it that they died of hunger on the streets than eat bread and meat of our providing. Wasn't that fearful. Madam Von Wiegel ?" " Very fearful, indeed ! — but may I ask — in order to ascertain how far the woman was wrong and how far right — how do you provide for these children so tenderly cared for, as you say, by the ladies and gentlemen of the Mission ? You cannot keep them always as pensioners on ypur bounty ?" m< TASTE VERSUS FASHION, 121 " Of course not, madam ! we have another society called The Children's Aid Society which takes charge ot* them after we have given them a certain amount of education, and sends them out West where, being disentangled from the evil surroundings of their mis- erable home and those degraded connections who could only prove a curse to them in after life and retard their progress in every way, they can enter on a new career with a fair chance for success." " Very prudent on the part of the Mission ! — And the triends so cut otF — do they never give any trouble in the way of claiming their own He \\ and blood ?" " Once in a while they do, but they are generally so poor— owing to their vicious way of living — that they cannot do much. Of course, the authorities are all with us ; having a truly paternal interest in the unfortunate victims they are well disposed to protect them even against their own wretched parents, so that we have nothing to fear from them^ "And so r " And so we — that is the Society — changes the children's names and sends them off to the branch- societies in various parts of the Union " " Where their relatives and friends lose all trace of them, and they grow up — anything and everything except Romanists ?" " Just so, madam !" And forthwith the pocket- book was opened, and the pencil held in readiness. " And now that we have explained the nature and ■.,.■, -I • -'. ,. , ', > 'j J? r *i'^ ■ 'ri. i>' . • I I • ■»•',' ,<»■■ , I • ' '»■ "'t- ^i' .. .,r;,yT. '\ IT •tyi » ^F/S(t ■'«'*'■ W:jV. ?.T • V.^-- !?!?■ '■'■■ ■H V! V22 01,n AND NEW , OR, .-^■5 •■■i ::;|! ■ Si.^i , til'' the objects of our excellent institution in as satisfac- tory a manner as our poor abilities would permit, shall we not have the honor of receiving your sub- scription ? How much shall I say, madam ?" ^^ Nothing r " Nothing!" repeated both the Missionaries aghast. *' Nothing ? did you say ' nothing ?' " " I did," said Madam Von Wiegel, " and I mean what I say.'* " Are we, then, to understand that you refuse to subscribe ?" " I do refuse." " And on what grounds, pray ?" " On very simple grounds," said Madam Von Wie- gel rising with dignity, " because I am a Catholic." " You a Catholic ! you, a German lady of high standing, and connected with a family so long and BO honorably known here." " I am fain to hope tl»at German ladies of higher standing than mine are good Catholics," said the old lady with a half smile, " but as it happens, I am not German, though my husband was.'''' " And pray what are you, then ?" said Mrs. Bum- lord pertly. " The question is rather impertinent," said Madam Von Wiegel calmly, " but I will not refuse to answer it. I am a countrywoman of that contro- vei'sial friend of yours who made so uncivilly free with your sectional origin, and I know not but you Will set me down, too, as * a low Irishwoman,' for TASTE VERSUS FASHIOJJ. 123 must own that I have no greater respect than she for religious humbugs^ and pious kidnappers. Ber- tha, my dear ! be so good as to touch the bell." Jan appeared on the instant. " Show those ladies to the door, Jan !" said his mistress. The ladies stood up, as erect and nearly as rigid as Lot's wife after her transformation. The milk of human kindness — or rather the whey of philan- trophy was turned to acrid yeast in the pulmonio region — vulgarly called breast ~-oi \\\q two zealous agents of the Fourth Ward Mission, and began so to ferment that an explosion was inevitable before they left the spot. " Madam Von Wiegel !" began one, all panting with anger, " we are not surprised " " No, Mrs. Yon Wiegel !" chorused the other, " we are not surprised at your unlady-like conduct now that we know what you are !" ** And we might have guessed it before, dear ! from the way she cross-examined us — only for the respect due to the memory of that man there," pointing to the portrait over t'le mantel-piece, " for I suppose that's meant for Johannes Von Wiegel " " You are not mistaken," said the lady of the man «ioD coldly. "Well ! only for hiyn and all the other Von Wic- gels that were a credit to the country and undoubted friends to the Protestant interest — we would have you exposed — as you deserve !" ii . ■■'. t ■ ■■ ^ /'' rV .' ■ •■' -T V mf f \~ 'i' "lit' t M "■ I 1 .III %i m ... ', ■ • ,,, ■'.* •'■''"ii.^i')!, ,||' l 124 OLD AND NEW ; OR, This brought Bertha to her feet, cold, cahn and stern. " Jan !" said she, " show those women to the door — at once /" Jan stood holding the room-door open and mo- tioning them out with an imperative shake of the head. There v/as no possibility of further resistance or further delay, so Mrs. Susanna L. Bumford swept grandly from the room, and after her, with a like majestic air, Mrs. Jedediah Hopington, consoling themselv^es as they traversed the hall with a pithy diatribe, in duetto, on the baneful effects of Popery. " Well ! my dear mother," said Bertha when the door had closed after their visitors, " I knew you had a reasonable stock of patience, but I own you suprised me to-day. I could not have listened to their pha- risaical cant half the time." " Patience were little worth, Bertha ! if it did not enable us to bear more than that." " True ; but did it not make your blood boil to hear them describe in such a cool, business-way the nefarious means those people employ to promote the interests of Protestantism ?" " I must confess it did, my dear ! but still it did not surprise me — I have seen enough of their manoeu vring in other countries to convince me that hatred of Catholicity is at the bottom of all their philau- thropical associations — they may put what name they please on them severally, but that is the basis common to all." " Well ! that is p /ie\\ phase of New York society ^ . * TASTR TF.RSrS FASHTOX. 125 »--at least for me," said Bertha, " but, by the bye, mother ! when are you going to answer Aunt Helen's letter ? I have written to Eveleen this mornings and to Uncle Gerald, and I propose adding a post- Bcript to yours when you write, in relation to that sepulchral cairn which has been recently discovered in their vicinity." " And the ancient brooch and armlets found theiein." * Even so, mother ! I am anxious to know whe- ther the brooch corresponds with any of the Jibulce* described by Walker in his Treatise on the Dress of the Ancient Irish. The collection of specimens in the Dublin Museum is not as full as we could wish — some of the most curious have beer bought up from private owners for foreign collections— - >» sold to the highest bidder- " Two more ladies !" said Jan, opening the door with a broad grin on his broad face. " Show them in, Jan ! " " I wonder what are these about," said Bertha in an under tone, "perhaps Missionaries from some other ward." She rose, as did her mother, on tho entrance of two nondescript animals attired in a fashion half masculine, half feminine, but rather in- clining to the former. Jan stood looking after * The Jibuhi was a large brooch of gold or silver, sometimes ornamented vith jewels used by the pagan Irish of both sexea for fastening those long cloaks in which we see them -epre- Beuted. They have been dug up in many parts of Ireland. ■■■■ '■■^:".> Vi'*;- ■ ' ^V"•kvV. »: 1 n^*r ^iPilt-H'l 126 OLD AND NEW ; OR, •«■' '; -M .r:ry ,:!! them as they advanced into the room with au ex- pression of bewildered curiosity that was amusing to see. From the rakish looking hats that sat so jauntily on their to the Turkish trowsers and stout buskins ostentatiously displayed beneath skirts that Diana herself might have gone hunting in without fear of let or hindrance to her divine footsteps. Buckskin gloves, or rather gauntlets with deep leather cuffs attached, completed the costume. " Mien goot Got !" ejaculated Jan as he left the room and hurried to the kitchen to tell Betty what a curious pair of visitors were in the parlor. Madam Von Wiegel and her daughter bowed,— the visitors bowed likewise, or rather nodded, and then they seated themselves with the air of persons who felt they had a right to be seated stand who would. They were an oddly assorted pair of ferai- nines, one being uncommonly tall with a dark face and a lowering brow, the other uncommonly short with a little withered, greyish-white visage and small ferret-eyes peering keenly from under the prn« jecting leaf of her " gypsey flat." It was clear that the ladies were of the Bloomer school, whatever else they might be, and it was just :is clear that neither was on the sunny side of forty. Madam Von Wiegel was about to ask in an iron* ical tone what fortunate circumstances had pro- cured her the honor of their visit, when the tall lady opened her mouth — it was a good sized organ, too, an J TASTE VERSUS FASHIOIf. 121 enunciated in loud, emphatic tones — meant probably for masculine — the following words : " We are obtaining signatures, ladies, for a peti- tion intended for presentation at the forthcoming session of the Legislature." Somewhat surprised, but too polite to show it, Madam Von Wiegel asked \ery quietly , " To what does the petition relate?'* " To our rights, madam !" stamping her foot en- ergetically on the carpet, " our trampled rights as women." " Oh indeed ! and what particular rights are you claiming now at the hands of the Legislature ?" " The right of speech, madam 1" said the tall Ama- zon with still increasing energy. " We claim a voice in the councils of the nation — the right to plead the cause of oppressed womanhood st the bar of the Senate, yea, and at the bar of justice — wherever man's tyranny and injustice and all-grasp- ing selfishness are to be grappled with, and subdooed. Men have kept us too long in a state of subjection for which Nature or Nature's God never designed us. Eve was made free — the equal of Adam " " Pardon me, madam ! I really was under the impression that Adam got dominion over K\e " "All a mistake, madam — all a mistake ! That pleasant fiction was generated in the self- worship- ping heart of man." " It has influenced all the inspired writers, then,** said Madam Von Wiegel, a smile playing round the mm » , ■<:.'• is' . , • • it/*. f' ' ':'.- »'■ '' •' ' V> .1 ., !■/ '■ : \\:<-M/..,.i. .'t ■ "M*- ■■ ■ ft",;- "... »;'fM'.';-- f„ H^ •'•J»' . ■* iff • TW ^:;,.V ^ 128 OLD AND NEW ; OR, l^v, S -.<■ ' / > ' hi, f-' corners of her mouth and twinkling in her dark eyes. " From Genesis to the Apocalypse the Bible is full of it, and the great Doctor of the Gen- tiles " "A fig for your great Doctor of the Gentiles. Of course you mean Paul, whom nobody minds now-a- days." " It appears you do not, at all events," put in Madam Von Wiegel. '* Certainly not," said the tall champion of wo- man's rights. " I pretend to a small share of theo- logical and Scriptural acumen myself, seeing that I studied Divinity under a godly professor, who was my father, moreover, according to the flesh, and graduated at one of our first New England col- leges " She paused, evidently to give her hearers an op- portunity of expressing their admiration. Madam Von Wiegel bowed — Bertha bit her lip, and cast down her eyes very demurely but said nothing. The tall woman was taken aback — the little woman spoke in a little squeaking voice cor- responding with her appearance. " Perhaps we ought to have announced ourselves," said she, " ladies, this is the Reverend Julietta Fire- proof, B. A., Bachelor of Arts, and I," she added, raising herself on her toes, in the vain endeavor to reach the height of her own importance, " I, ladies, am Dorothea Mary Wohtoncroft Brown^ oH Vihova. you may probably have heard !" ■i. •!■ MM' : TASTE VERSUS FASHION. 129 Madam Von Wiegel bowed again. She could not find in her heart to pull the stilts from under the little woman by telling her the plain unvarnished truth. " Oh ! of* course, of course," said the inflated little gas-bag, interpreting the bow according to her wishes — " my lectures on Physiology and Animal Magnetism and Bi-ology have excited no little at- tention. By the bye, ladies ! I lecture to-morrow evening in Extravaganza Hall — allow me to present you with tickets for the course — subjects of great interest and importance, including Woman's Rights, Spiritualism and Negro Slavery !" " You are very kind," said Madam Yon Wiegel with freezing civility, " I have no doubt but we should be entertained and instructed were it in our power to attend your lectures, which, I regret to Bay, it is not." " Well, madam !" said the Reverend Miss Fire- proof with a sidelong glance at her companion who had been engrossing much too large a share of the conversation for her liking, " well, madam ! shall we have the honor of affixing your name to our petition ?" '* Most assuredly not, madam !" said the stately Irish lady with marked emphasis; "I belong to a Church that teaches unlimited submission to the Divine Word, and holds with St. Paul that women should obey their husbands, and, moreover, keep silent in public assemblies. I see no injustice, there- fore, or oppression, in the custom which consigns ' • «■*■' >■■" (V-l*i ♦, ... .'•■■'•■■■ ^v^yi ■■■■ ::;:v^«',j,j, I . 'U-u ■',; r ."« ti jy If,', -Si WWf "i-i:.!-' 'ill 130 OLD AND NEW ; OR, ■>'1 >.;■' '■■ ■ 4., ■■> '.f"?!'!i;' (iiii ill 'til ■•ill I'll m I us women to the shades of domestic life. 1 see in it rather a merciful dispensation for us, and a wise provision of the Divine Kuler for the wants of the human family." " A good morning, ladies !" said the Reverend female with exceeding stiffness and an elevation of her heavy brows, " I find we have been guilty of the folly reprobated by one of o^d, namely, throiving yearls before swine. A good morning to you ! Do- rothea, let us hence quickly !" The namesake of Mary Wolstoncrofl elevated herself as near as she could to Miss Fireproofa shoulder, and with a look of that belligerent kind commonly identified with daggers^ she sidled out in the wake of her tall convoy, Jan honoring the pair with the same attention as before during their voyage to the door. " Jan !" said his mistress, whilst Bertha threw herself on a sofa laughing immoderately, " Jan ! mind we are not at home to any more of these visitors." 1 TASTE VERSUS FASHION. 131 Wmm -A'/ft'L-'.'*.-.' yv"^ CHAPTER VII. A SBRKNADE AND SOME NEW ACQUAINTANCES. There was one small room in Ilheinfeldt house fitted up as an oratory. It had but one window., and that not large, piercing the wall at the height of several feet from the floor ; it was an arched win- dow of stained glass, whose sombre tints cast a quiet, subdued light into the little room, that made even the noontide hour soft and dreamy as the evening twilight. Under the window was an altar-shaped table, surmounted by a marble slab, and on it stood a beautiful statue of the Virgin with the Divine Infant in her arms — a work of so rare excellence that it might have been sculptured by the chisel of Canova. At the feet of the statue was a delicate vase of Sevre china, filled with the richly-scented flowers artificially forced into bloom by horticultu- ral skill, even under the icy reign of winter, and on either side stood a silver oil-lamp of antique form ; on the wall just beneath the window hung a large ebony crucifix with the Sacred Image carved in purest ivory. Two paintings hung on opposite sides of the room, one a half length figure of St. Joseph with the miraculous rod in his hand in full blossom, the other representing St. Elizabeth of Hungary taking leave of her beloved spouse on his departure K-ir ... '',7'J..;p*;; ,.. . <* . i' ■■■ ■' .9 '■■■ V ."^ *,.iCk. m:^ ti"\ ■'^^UUa- ■■■^'t'i. '4,1' (-!; i'^'^j'w ii MSI 'Mm ' -, ' , inlf 1 ii 32 OLD AND KEW ; OR for the Holy Land. Two small paintings hung ob cither side the crucifix above the little altar — one M'as a head of St. Francis of Assissium, the other of St. Agnes the Martyr, both after the manner oi Guido, probably copies of two of his. In front of the altar were two piie-dieus cush- ioned with plain crimson stuff, and three or four chairs were placed along the walls, whilst in one corner opposite the altar was a large arm-chair with a moveable table-shelf attached, on which lay a couple of small volumes. It was the practice of Madam Von Wiegel and her daughter to say their night-prayers, including the Rosary, before this little altar in the oratory. At nine o*clock precisely the bell summoned Jan and Betty to assist in the family devotions, after which they were dismissed for the night, and the mother and daughter sat reading or conversing for an hour or so in the old lady's chamber, before they, too, sought repose. On the night following the visit of the eccentric individuals described in the last chapter the house had been long silent, and it seemed as though all elept unconscious of the lovely moonlight that was flooding the world without, and struggling for ad- mission through every cranny of the closed shutters. It was not so ; one lone watcher was drinking in the beauty of the night, and in its deep tranquillity finding a balm for feverish agitation. Bojtha had Bat with her mother later than usual that night, and X TASTE VERSUS FASHIOK. 133 (liey had been talking of matters connected with the daughter's earlier life which had brought a host of memories crowding on her mind, and raised a tumult ill her heart which her mother little dreamed of. Wiien she stooped to kiss that beloved mother, as usual after seeing her comfortably settled for the ni;j;]it, an inward voice reproached her for not con- fi' ' •' , { . '}>^''A r ' '. .A, V'-- ■. i- ■■v'-'v;''.' '"Vj: .. \l ■'. rill '♦ , . sa •* -II 't *. . ' '■ ■ i''* ':; ; ''I • } , •' ■'•r^' • ^ 'l 4il 134 OLD AND NRW ; OH, Long and silently she prayed in the depth of hei own heart; no words broke the holy calm of the hour and the scene, but at times Bertha would raise her face and fix a glance of almost passionate supplication on the sweet foce of Mary, where it seeni ed to look on her through the shades. And Bertha's own face was a miracle of beauty as the deep emotions of her soul passed over it, and the thoughts shut up within her heart like jewels in a cask ot, flashed from her speaking eyes. " Mother most mild!" she at length softly mur- mured, "yow know how I have struggled to free my he jirt from this thrall — yaU' know how many weary hours I have watched and prayed — ay! even here — \A ith none but God and thee to hear me, and the starry eyes of heaven looking down into my heart of hearts. What I might not tell my earthly mother I have told thee, comfort of the afflicted, and how was it — oh gracious mother, how was it, that even in answer to my prayer — came a whisper of hope to my troubled spirit that stilled its tumult and raised my drooi'insr heart above its own sorrow ? Whence comes that voice ? — whence the ray of light that foint and far gleams like a star through the dark- ness?*' She had scarcely murmured these words when a strain of music broke soft and sweet on the stilly air floating around as if spirits were breathing the melting tones. Bertha started to her feet, and shook back the stray tresses of her hair which had fallen around «- IT • ■ ' . « ■ TASTE VERSUS FaSIIIOH. 135 h'.- her face. She stood in the attUiule of one whoso whole henrt and soul were stirred, whose every faculty was absorbed in hearing, the rich color coining and going on her check like the first tints of the rosv dawn. "That air!" she murmured, "his fiivorite, and the flute, too ! — are those tones of earthly origin, or who at this lone hour can breathe them here ? It may be a dream !" — she muttered, " but if it be, I would never awaken to cold reality !" And moving a step or two back she sank into the old arm-chair in the corner and gave herself up to the entn*ncing spell of the moment. The air was that so dear to Scottish hearts and to lovers of true music in every land, the exquisite air of "Lochaber," than which a sweeter or more thrilling never came from the harp-strings of ancient days: " Farewell to Lochaber and farewell to my Jean Where lieartsome wi' thee I hae mony a day been, For Lochaber no more for Lochaber no more I'll maybe return to Lochaber no more !" These words of the old ballia were echoing through Bertha's heart with every note of the music, calling up memories long repressed, and, *• Waking thoughts that long had slept," till the strength of her stern will was subdued, and 8he burst into a passionate flood of tears murmur- kig a name that had not passed her lips for years. All at once, when the sweet sad melody seemed ' t rj.*- >■ ♦ :*-'' .•.-yjT— .•■I* ■ '.4 I ' l« •it ')'» m i'^ J I .::S I iliiii 136 OLD AND NEW ; OR, • dying away in a plaintive cadence on the calm night air, the music broke into a lighter measure which Bertha was not slow in recognizing — it was the heart-stirring Irish air to which the genius of Moore has given fitting expression in "I'd Mourn the Hopeii that leave me." And if ever music breathed a hu- man soul — a human heart — it was in those wild im- passioned tones, sad, yet hopefully sad. Bertha knelt a moment and offered up a fervent prayer before the image of the merciful Mother, then softly closing the oratory, hastened to a win- dow at the end of the adjoining corridor to see whether she could get a sight of the minstrel, who, by this time, was making her heart-strings quiver with the plaintive melody of Lover's beautiful bal- bd, " True Love can ne'er Forget." The touching associations connected with this lay — founded as it is on (Jarolan's romantic passion for Bridget Cruise — the love-breathing notes — the quiet beauty of " the stilly night," and the visions starting into life at every note, all conspired to fill Bertha's heart with the sweetest and tenderest emotions, and to strike a gush of feeling from the inmost recesses of her being. She felt happy, she knew not why, for the memories evoked were more of sorrow than of joy. She felt that it was no stranger whose music could thus set her heart throbbing, and she wished above all things to get a sight of him without being licr- «elf seen. _ Slowly aud soflly she opened the shutter just ■^,t ■ :i m •i »■' TASTE VERSUS PASUION. 137 gufScient to enable her to glance through ; the srreen blinds were closed outside so that she had no difficulty in taking observations unseen by any one without, but the music had ceased and nothing that had life met her eyes — nothing but the moon- light sky and the sleeping earth and the spectral branches of the tall linden, stiff and stark as the skeleton of some huge Titan of the elder world. The musician was nowhere to be seen ; but how could he have disappeared so suddenly ? \Va,s it, then, a dream, Bertha asked herself, and her heart grew cold within her as the deep hush of midnight settled down unbroken by any sound. " It ivas, then, a d eam,'* she murmured sadly to herself as she closed the shutters and slowly paced the corridor leading to her own chamber; "and yet how coidd it be ? Am I not avv^ake ? No ! it could not have been an illusion of the senses — I will rather believe it some spirit of the air sent to cheer my weary heart w^ith strains suggestive of happiness I— happiness !" she repeated, as she entered her sleep- ing apartment and carefully closed the door, " oh ! such happiness is not for me ; why should I suffer my fancy to run away with m^' '■;.' '• ■ :.:'•• -^l .^^ T-* 'i- "f:r- . i.;Ji= 138 OLD AND NEW ; OB, " And when all of this life is ^one- Ev'n the hope, lingering; now, Like the last of the leaver left on Autumn's sere and faded bcugh — 'Twill seem as still those friends were msftT, Who loved me in youth's early day, If in that parting hour I hear The same sweet notes, and die away— To that song of the olden time, Breath'd — like Hope's farewell strain- To say, in some brighter clime, Lift! and youth will shine again !' ♦ We know not whether Bertha's sleep was vi itcd Ihat night by visions of that " brighter clime," or whether " tir'd nature's sweet restorer" came at all to soothe her chafed and jaded mind, but certain it is that when she entered her mother's room next morning she looked like one who had enjoyed a good night's rest, her step had the buoyancy and her eyes the brightness of earlier days. Her mother noticed the change and said : " I am glad to see you looking so well this morning, my dear Bertha ! I think you, too, must have heard the serenade that gave my old heart so much pleasure. Or did I but dream that I heard some one playing such delicious old melodies on the flute ?" " If you were dreaming, mother, then I was dream- ing, too," said Bertha turning away to arrange her mother's toilet. " / heard the music of which you npeak." " Then you heard * Lochaber* and ' I'd Mour? * Moore's Ballads and Songs, &-c. ■ » If- > Jii 1 .^ TASTE VERSUS FASHION. 139 the Hopes that Leave Me,' and — what was the other ? if I knew it at the time I do not remember what it was, though I have an idea that it sounded familiar." " You must have been in that blissful state between sleeping and waking when music falls like a spell on the senses," said Bertha evading the ques- tion. " The first time I heard The Flowers o' th6 Forest it was at the dead of night when the moon- beams were sleeping on Avon Dhu's stream beneath the castle walls through a casement of which I was looking forth with my cousin Eveleen — we were spending a summer with Lady EUersly at Castle and had lingered by the window enjoying the beauty of earth and sky and water — you know the inexpressible pathos of that old air, the plaint of the bereaved Scottish maidens for the chivalry of their land swept away on the bloody field of Flodden — you may imagine, then, how deeply it sank into my heart when it came to my ear for the first time over the still waters of that lovely river at an hour when all the v/orld is, or is supposed to be, * sleep- ing' — oh ! those were sounds never, never to be torejotten, and I have loved the air ever since for I never hear it without feeling again the charm ol that moment.'* " Was it a flute played it then ?' asked her mother. " No, it was a clarionet — more .effective, you know on the water." ... • / ^^•vH : . »■, »' > ": 4. •i ■ ■ ..'< ■■ • Nil ■tli < iij;!"?^ ^ ' ,i^'jt :|' it (,*|, ili'i; uo OLD AND NEW ; OR, All this time the business in hands had been pro* gressing, and BeiTha had, as she intended, diverted her mother's thoughts i'»to a somewhat different channel. She took care that the subject of the noc- turnal music did not again come on the tapis^ till tli« toilet being completed, both ladies repaired to the {>ratory to perform their morning devotions — they i< : at too great a distance from any Church to have he privilege of hearing Mass on week-days. Breakfast was over, and the old lady, seated in her arm-chair near the fire in the sitting-room or parlor where we first introduced her to the reader, was oc- cupied with a volume of Baron Henrion's Missions CcUholiques, whilst Bertha sat sewing at some dis- tance. The door opened and Jan made his ap- pearance. He stood still, and Bertha raising her eyes asked him what he wanted. He held up some- thing white that appeared to be a handkerchief. Unwilling to have her mother disturbed, Bertha hastened to take the handkerchief, supposing it one of her ov/n or her mother's. A glance convinced her that it belonged to neither, and she looked in- quiringly at Jan. He was beginning with " I found it, Miss Ber tha ! " when the young lady, having glanced at certain initials n^arked on a corner of the fine cam- bric handkerchief, quietly put it in her pocket and motioned for Jan to leave the room, which he cMd, wondering much that Miss Von Wiegel should so far honor a strango handkerchief whi' ''.. ■« : ■'' I ,^, •' OLD AND NEW j OR, self? as if anybody ever goes for to tell her about such small little tings !" The door-bell rang, and Jan hurried off to answef the peremptory summons. He ushered into the j.arlor a stout, elderly gentleman, and a pale but very pretty young lady. Their appearance seemed to give pleasure to those within, and Bertha came forward smiling, with both hands outstretched, which the gentleman was not slow to take. He then proceeded to shake hands with Madam Von Wiegel who seemed equally gl' d to see him. The pale girl, his daughter, bright- ened up as Bertha kissed her cheek and led her to her mother. " And so you've got back again to us, Mr. Mur- ray !" said Bertha sitting down by her young friend on a sofa, "and dear Alice too, looking so very much better 1" " Do you really think so ?" questioned the anxious fether fixing his eyes on his daughter's face, over which a delicate bloom v/as dilFused, partly by the reddish brown shade of the curtains, partly by the pleasure of what was to her, too, a joyful meeting. "Well! I dfcciare she is looking better, thank God for it !" Then with an increased vivacity he w ent on " Back ! to be sure I've got back, and little Alice ha«§ got back, and somebody else has got back, too ! — ha! ha! Miss Bertha! that brings the blood to your check — does it not, madam?" addressing the old •'■;';V'5i?iM? TASTE VERSUS FASHION. 143 >■:,•; lady who sat looking and listening with a pleased smile on her aged features. *' Pray don't say yes, mother ! whatever you may think /" said Bertha with a merry laugh ; " it" you do I shall never hear the end of it ! But why didn't your somebody come with you ?" There it is you see, Madam Von Wiegel !" said the light-hearted old gentleman, his face brimful of good humor ; " you see she don't care a rush for Alice or me so long as Robert didn't come to re- port himself in person !" " You do yourself and Alice great injustice," said Bertha somewhat m >re seriously, " and me, too, — I am always glad to see you both, though I do not deny but I should have liked to see Robert, too " " Well that's frank and honest, now !" said Mr. Murray taking out his snuff-box, and aftet* tapping it smartly on the lid, handing it to the old lady who took a pinch and bowed her acknowledgment. " Why not ?" asked Bertha ; *' I hope it is no harm to confess that I feel almost the same sisterly affec- tion for Robert as I do for my dear Alice ?*' " Sisterly^ eh ?" said the old gentleman fixing his eye on her with a most humorous expression of scrutiny. "Well! well! never mind — sisterly or brotherly or what you will, settle it between you when you meet — and that will be " " How soon ?" asked Bertha, exf'hanging a smile »Fith Alice. -.^lii ■■■■♦f-f'«S W W:k It-- m:'^-- '^■! i'--> ■^' 144 PLD AND Nrw ; Oh, , . .' ■'■ '%\ A • •f"' 'i! . : ^ '••-, .■ f .' 1: \H 'i ■ 'A ■ (■■I'lil • ■' ■i , ■; ■ ' i r* H '. '? ' J „1 J-'"'". ■'l«t„ '■'iP "Oh! some day before midsummer! — ha! hil ha! That's good, isn't it?" " I'll have nothing more to say to you, sir !" said Bertha, " so you will please turn your attention elsewhere. My mother has little reaso^n to be obliged to you for neglecting her so long and want to talk to Alice." So saying she took her young friend's hand and led her to a distant window wh-ere they placed them- selves on a cushioned seat within the deep recess. Bertha had much to ask and Alice much to tell of the sunny skies and magnolia groves and per- fumed breezes of the South, for her father had taken her to Cuba to spend the winter-months, fearing the effect of northern frosts on her delicate frame, already weakened by disease. She spoke with en- thusiasm of the gay and graceful hospitality of the Cuban Spaniards and the friendships she had formed, and the pleasant acquaintances she had made during her four months' stay in the neighborhood of Havana. " But see how I run on, my dear Miss Von Wiegel !" v "Bertha! if you please. Miss Murray! I shall not vote for another Cuban visit if this one is to have the effect of formalizing my little Alice !" "Pray excuse me!" said Alice with a look of eiucere affection in her mild blue eyes as she met the reproachful glance of Bertha, " I had forgotten your kind permission " " Permission !" said Bertha laughing, " why it if TASTE VER.^rS FASHIOK 145 . '>■;, vorp*^ and worse you are growing. But, nevei mind, we sliall soon be all right again — what were you going to say to Miss Von Wiegel, when / in- terrupted you?" " Will you Ibrgive me if I say it ?" Bertha nodded and smiled. " Well ! I thought — that is I fancied— that something must have occurred since I left to ruffle the calm surface of my dear Bertha's mind?" Bertha started — her face was scarlet in a moment — she bit her lip till it was colorless, then smiled, but her smile was not natural, and the gentle Alice, seeing the effect of her question, was sorry she had asked it. But Bertha was calm asjain in a moment, and, tapping Alice playfully on the cheek, asked in a low voice what grounds she had for such an out- of-the-way idea. " I can liardly tell you that," said Alice, casting her eyes down as if to avoid looking in Bertha's face, " but it seems to nie — perhaps it is only fancy — that there is a sort of artificial gaiety put on — as if to hide somethiner — in short, I find vour man- ner very different from its usual calmness — and — and- M " Come, out with it ! — you mean to say hauteur — Nest-ce pas, ma chere ?" *' Not exactly that " " But something very like it — well ! be it so — but this change — is it for the better or worse ? — am I more or less loveable ? — more or less like the Bertha you would wish to see rae?" 1 • .■V ■ ■ •■'■**• '3' ■ 1. '- 'Jiir.!: ■ ... *, •'■if 'v. -. ■ ♦t*"^' .4 ■ •W .»i;i iv. ;l , >!::■■ ;wi!; ]I6 OLD AND NEW ; OR, Alice raised her eyes and fixed them on Bertha's face for a moment, then dropping them again she shook her head and sighed. " So you won't tell me what you think ?" said Bertha with that assumed gaiety which rung so hol- low on the ear of her friend ; " well ! I can only say that your ladyship's imagination is running away with you since your visit to the South. Ailons done : I see your father is on the move. Courage, ma belle amie ! there's no change in l^ertha's heart.'''' Alice smiled her thanks, and they hastened to rejoin the old lady and gentleman. " Well ! young ladies, I hope you feel better after your tete-a-tete?^'' said Mr". Murraiy standing up. " Very much better, thank you! How is it with you and my mother ?" " We're as merry as crickets — do you want to know what we've been talking about ?" " I'm not at all curious," said Bertha with a smile, " but I know who u," she added dropping her voice to reach only Alice's ear. " You're a disrespectful young — ahem !— young Indy ! but never mind, you'll meet your match some of these days — won't she,, Madam Von Wiegel?" The old lady smiled and said, " I hope so, Mr. Murray !" and then the visitors took their leave, promising to dine at Rheinfeldt House on the fol lowing Sunday. Leaving the mother and daughter to talk over the agreeable surprise they had received, and the \mm \A,t s^ Wfp^ • V Taste versus fashion. 147 favorable effect of the mild southerti winter on Alice's health, we will take the liberty of making our readers somewhat better acquainted with those 'lew friends of ours, whom I hope to make tJieirs. The family at present consisted of Randal Mur« ray, the hearty old gentleman already introduced to the reader, Robert, his son, a fine spirited young fellow some years over twenty, and our pretty gentle Alice, who was the delight and solace of her father's heart as Robert was its pride. The old gentleman had emigrated to A-jierica with his young and blooming bride when he himself was in the hey-day of youth, more than a quarter of a century before. He had been brought up to the mercantile business in Dublin, where he had served his time in wholesale and retail grocery in Thomas street. Active and energetic, and perse- vering withal, Randal Murray, with the advantages of a plain solid education, had worked his way up- wards, esteemed as a man, respected as a trader, and finally, honored as a great man on Change. Unfortunately, his loving and beloved Mary did not live to share his prosperity ; the clouds that darken usually around the first years "i he emigrant in a strange land threw a blighting shade on the timid girl who had left her father's comfortable homestead on the plain** of Kildare " to tempt the danj^erous main" and che trials and vicissitudes of an emi- grant's life beyond seas with Randal. Consumption was not slow in setting its seal on her so lately •i , f J ■■ i<-:'. * V -.;* i♦•/■■■ w "' .V '^ :> /"^ UR OLD ANT) NF.W ; OR, »■ ■ " rMW"^ ** blooming cheek. Slie died, leaving Alice but two years old, and Robert some six or seven. This waa a severe blow to Randal Murray, but vas not the man to give way under misfortune, b^ ne shook off the heavy load of grief^ — at least externally — secured a staid and sober matron to take charge of his house and give the children the first rudiments of education, then went on with his business with the best heart he could. Ten or twelve years of assiduous appli- cation had raised him to the rank of an eminent merchant, as before indicated ; his son, after gradu- ating with honor at the only Catholic College which the State of New York could then boast, chose the profession of arms, and entered r Vest Point. Unwilling as he was to part with Aliv.. . i any length of time, Mr. Murray had been induced by some friends in the South to send her to Maryland to be educated by the Sisters of Charity, at Emmettsburg. Under their maternal car© and judicious training Alice Murray had grown up to womanhood, and returned to her father after seven years of absence, as *' pure and gentle-hearted" and, withal, as well skilled in all womanly accomplishments as even his dof.ting heart could wish. Strange to say it was at Emmettsburg the Murray s and Von Wiegels had first become acquainted, when only a few months before the Ritter's death, the latter family had madfe a tour through the Southern States in accordance with the advice of the old gentleman's physician. In the parlor of the Con* »^1!' TASTF VKRSUS FASHIOV. U?> h.-i , } vent, when they visited that venerable institution, the Von Wiegels were introduced to Mr. RandiU Murray as " a gentleman from New York," and also to his amiable daughter, then a boarder in the Con- vent, and looking inexpressibly lovely in the taste- ful summer-costume of the school. An acquaintance so auspiciously formed soon ripened into friendship, the tastes and habits of both families being much alike, and their sentiments congenial enough to bind them to each other. Mr. Murray had retired from business a little before Alice came home liom school, and had purchased a handsome but unostentatious cottage within ten minutes' walk of Rheinfeldt House. So now having introduced the Murrays and further commended them to the kind attention of our readers, we leavt Ihem for the present. >.,' J-V mmm '^'il^> " -Xit^'" ■ '■■•' ^&:' 150 OLD AND NEW J OR, n ■: ' ■ *> - : ■ I .I*-*'' iHli CHAPTER VIII. AN EPOCH IN THE GALLAGHER ANNALS. Mr. and Mrs. Samuel C. Fogarty sought and soon found an eligible residence far enough up town to be at least on the outskirts of the fashionable world — within the Celestial Empire of fashiondom — and safe from the incursions of " outside barbarians" abiding in that vulgar region '' down town." Hav* ing consoled our readers with this comfortable assurance we shall leave the young couple to the " delightful task" of furnishing, and otherwise deco- rating their domicile in Tenth street, and return to see how the world has been using Mrs. Gallagher and her five remaining daughters since we last enjoyed their amiable society. " The bridal is over, the guests are all gone," the wedding tour has been completed, the recep- tion, with its attendant ball and supper, arc num- bered with the past, and the Gallaghers, minus Eliza, have settled down again into the dull routine of daily life. But life is never at a stand-still with the Gallaghers ; they are always in pursuit of some brilliant phantom to which distance lends enchant, ment. The special object of present pursuit will bo best understood by the conversation in which the family were engaged on t'je SaMwday night when i 11 i«;. •v.- !■ wwm • • .1 ■•■■■«; i-rVJ: TASTE VERSUS FASHION. 151 we tase tfie liberty of introducing the leader to iheir front basement at the unseasonable hour of eleven, when they were all assembled round the cheerful blaze. Tom was in high spirits. He had only got home from the market a little before ; butch- ers' stalls being kept open later on Saturday night in New York as elsewhere; he was in high spirits, as I said, because his receipts that day had bo^n unusually large, so that even Atty Garrell had been moved to exuberant mirth while master and man counted the proceeds of the day's business before they left the market. Tom, therefore, was decidedly "jolly," and none the less bo, it may be presumed, for the tumbler of punch, possessing all the qualities attributed to " ladies' punch," being " sweet, strong and warm," as Tom himself averred with an approving smack of the lips, and a corres- ponding shake of the head. Between his good luck and his good supper, and his good glass of " toddy," Tom Gallagher, then, was aecidedly in good humor, of which agreeable fact his observant spouse and her five able assistants were not slow to take advantage. '* Dear me, girls !" said Mrs. Gallagher, and she fetched a heavy sigh, " how lonet ome we are since Eliza went away from us !" Of course the girls assented with five sighs duly responsive. "Ma^be you doa't gf out enough," observed .. .. -...v: •■■■••;• ■ '.t '■^'^W .t. ♦ >>i ■ '■ '-:'^-i^' pit ' ■ • i'yy ' li »ti;^'- m % t .'"» A. ;^ ;■ 'm ■': , .♦ it'^-iw ^!ii J! <■ 1 .. -y '^•'. ■• j; " , ^ 1 . ■ ; ■i^S*' 152 OLD AND NEW ; OR, Tom good-naturedly ; " I'm afraid you keep the house too close, all of you." " Well ! I don't know but we do, Tom !" with a thoughtful look into t^'3 recesses of the fire ; " thes poor girls are so busy most of the day that they hardly ever go out at all" — . good woman forgot the little promenade which the " poor girls" man- aged to take every fine afternoon on the sunny side of Broadway, to the great bewilderment, doubtless, of the excruciatingly-fine young gentleman whose business it is to keep sentry on that beat during the hours of fine afternoons when fashionable young ladies are on exhibition. " They hardly ever go out, at all," said Mrs. Gal- lagher compassionately, "for, you know, the wea her is so changeable that we can hardly count on two fine days running, and when a fine day does come, maybe it*s just the day they can't get out, poor things !" Tom hardly knew what consolation to offer, but he ventured at last to suggest that when the weather wasn't good for walking they might go for a ride in the cars or the stages, or out for a sail to Staten Island, or Williamsburgh, or Hunter's Point, or some place else — they h'^d plenty of choices, and needn't stay one day in the house — " if they felt like going out." » " But then, pa," said Fanny, now the senior Miss Gallagher, "it a'nt the thing, you know, for youujf girls like U8 to be riding in care or BLagee, unk^'^iJ 'i 1 ■ i Mil ',f.l.T J TASTE VERSUS FASHIOX. 153 we have somebody with us — it a'nt proper, you knoW; and besides, it's so vulgar — my ! I'd rather walk, any day of the year, th^n be packed in a car or omnibus with all sorts of people. You have no idea what common, rowdy-looking characters one sees in those conveyances !'" " Haven't I indeed ?" said Tom with his good- natured laugh ; " why don't you think I have eyes as well as you ? / can ride in the cars very well." "Oh! of course you can, pa!" but then, you know, you're not like us — young girls are more exposed to insult " "Young girls!" repeated the father with a glee- ful chuckle; "well! I think, Fanny ! yo«/. ought to be old enough to take care of yourself. Let me see, Ellen! how old is Fanny now?" "Never mind, pa! how old I am," said Fanny with rising ill-humor ; she was going to add, " I'm old enough to be wiser than my father," but a glance from her mother made her rein in her saucy "tongue, and she forced herself to look as though she were mightily amused by his \ilt\e jeu cPespitt, point- less though it was. "I know one thing about the cars and the stages,'* said Mrs. Gallagher with emphasis, " and that is, that one never feels safe in them." " Why, bless my soul ! Ellen," said her husband, sure you re not a young girl, anyhow ? is it afeard of being run away with you are ?'* f ' . ' - * ty:'," ii r^' m .3*A!i , 'i .' ,'"> /iff' 154 OLD AND NEW ; OR, ;'• v> '<. .1'- .-■3, '1: ' '> . ,' i m . l/'jV'., ■• :;;'"''''^V'; " If /'m not run away with, my purse may, or my watch and chain !" " Pooh, nonsense, woman !" " I tell you it's no nonsense, Tom Gallagher \ didn't I lose my purse once in the Bloomingdale stage and a ten-dollar gold piece in it, besides some small change ?" "And didn't / lose a five-dollar pocket-handker chief in the Third Avenue cars ?" said Fanny. " And didn't / lose in the Bleecker street stage that beautiful ring with five small pearls and a spark of diamond that pa gave me for a New Year's pre- sent ?" chimed in EUie. " Lord save us !" said Tom to himself, " what can all this mean, or are they all taking leave of their senses ?" Aloud he said : " Well ! I own there's very bad walking at times here in New York, so that you can't very well take exercise in the open air, and then you all agree that for one reason or another it isn't safe to go in the cars or stages — now what's to be done?" " Dear knows !" sighed Mrs. Gallagher, as she proceeded to lock up the closets and make other preliminary motions of a si'nilar kind for the house- hold's approaching departure to t^e land vulgarly called " of Nod !" " dear knows, Tom ! but / know / can't stand this constant confinement much longer — it's worse on me than the hard work a hundred times!" "Why! that's true enough, Ellen dear;" said : iA.v; "^ TASTE VERSUS FASHION. 155 Tom in perfect good faith, " but what on earth can we do more than we're doing ? Supposin' you were to keep another girl — or two, if you think well of it — how would that be ?'* Mrs. Gallagher shook her head despondingly. " Well ! let me see — it's March now — we'll soon have the fine weather — what would you think of takin' a tower yourself an' Mag and Annie and Janie, as Fanny and Ellie were away with Eliza ?" " How you do talk, Tom ;" cried Mrs. Gallagher very tartly. " How could we go on a tower without any man-body with us to see to the trunks and things ?" " I should think it wouldn't be easy for so many woman-bodies to go on a tower, without man-bodies to help them up," whispered Mag to Ellie some- what irreverently. " Hush ! hush 1" whispered Ellie back again ; "the fat will be all in the fire if they hear you making fun of them !" " Well ! then, I declare 1 can't think what's best to do," said Tom, beginning to be really puzzled. " How would a trip to Saratoga do ?" " Very well while it lasted, but that wouldn't be long, and we'd soon be as bad as ever. To tell you the honest truth, Tom dear ; and I didn't like to tell you till I 86-3 there's nothing else for it — I'm getting mighty bad entirely with pains in my legs !" " Pains in your legs, Ellen !" cried Tom all aghast,' " is it in earnest you are ?" * 1. • ■'', ■■ '•*» ^■- i*;^ '■ ,"•■■ ■•,.•'« '\, 'r ' ; % • ■-':■.■,< ; 'f ■ , ■ V'-.-'.--) .• ■fci-, J.;-, (•■T" '■vTTrr- 156 »,.■' -uA: ■r'ii ^1 ,r.-,. ■ I ^ " "mi 'PpH OLD AND NEW ; OR, " In earnest !" repeated his spouse in a tone of reproach ; " do you think it's joking IM bo about the like of that ?" " But it's curious you never told me before — how long are you troubled with the pains — maybe it'i the rheumatics you're getting?" " Whatever it is, I find ray limbs failin' me, and that's what doesn't answer me of all people that has so much to do around the house." "By the laws, it's a bad business," said Tom, musingly ; " we must see the doctor about it." "You'll do no such thing," said Mrs. Gallagher quickly ; it's time enough to be laying out money with doctors when we can't help it. I tell you, it's air I want, fresh country air, and that regularly." " Oh, if that's all you want," said Tom, with a lightened heart, " we can manage that easy enough. Hire a carriage a couple of times a week, or every day if you like, and take some of the girls out with you for a ride." " A drive, pa," suggested Fanny. "Well, whatsomever you call it— a ride or a drive." " And all the money we'd pay for coach-hire would be a dead loss !" said Mrs. Gallagher econo- mically. " No, Tom ! we'll do no such foolish thing, with my consent, anyhow ! If we do spend money on account of these legs of mine — weary on them for legs! — let us have somethmg for it! — you know you have to keep a couple of horses now for your TASTE VERSrS FASHION. 167 business — well ! let us biiy a carriage at once^ instead of hiring one two or three times a week — then we'll >(/ivn it of our own, you know, and can drive out whenever we've a mind to, without shoveling out money to them hackmen that wouldn't thank us for all we'd give them." Having so delivered herself, Mrs. Gallagher looked as though she expected a compliment for her money-saving ingenuity. All the girls immediately chorused in, quite innocently, the darlings! and with such glad surprise as though they had never thought, never heard of such a thing before. *' Oh yes, pa ! — let us have a carriage — won't you, pa ? — now do, pa ! — it will be so nice, you know !'* "Yes, yes," said poor beleaguered Tom Gal- lagher ; " yes, yes, I know it would be very nice and very pleasant, but I know, too, that it would cost a nice penny to get such a carriage as you^d like to ride out in," " Why, no, Tom ! it wouldn't cost so much as you think," said his wife ; " a very plain one would do, you know !" and she winked at the girls. " A plain one, eh ? — well ! if I thought that — I wonder, now, how much it would cost — if a couple of hundred dollars would do, I wouldn't mind goin' as I'ar as that on one." " Well ! it wouldn't be much over that, at any rate," observed Mrs. Gallagher, "and then havin' the horses, as I said before- »j w wy. f; ^■:. ''. * •( ' ..* ■.' . ■,'" ) • ,w i-'-' h^ '■' , ■'ir mmip. I ■- ' « 1' .4.: s , .. , ^' Missel mr ' ^i* :i .!>' ■ " . ■* v.:'^ ■ ' *:■> '" '.it:...! I . • , .?.■■•; ■■'■ » ,r.^5 , 'i ■■ ' ' .i 158 OLD AND NEW ; OR, " Yes, but you could only have them on Sundays, you know !" " Oh ! well, that'll do" — another wink at the girls— •* it's on Sunday we want the carriage most when you can be with us yourself, Tom !" " Well ! but see here, Ellen !" said Tom looking very shrewd, " there's another thing we are forget- tin' entirely." " An* what is that, Tom dear ?" " Why, if we get a carriage we'll have to keep a man to drive it, I suppose ?" " An' what of that ?" asked his wife, ever fruitful in expedients; "don't we want a man badly to do turns about the house, and take care of the grass- plot abroad ?" " And then he'd do for a waiter when we have company, pa !" suggested Fanny. " Yes," said the mother, *' we could advertise for a coachman and butler." " Nonsense, ma !" retorted Fanny, " sure nobody advertises for a coachman and butler !" " I tell you they do," persisted the mother ; " didn't I see it in the Herald a score of times ?" " You had better eyes than I have, then, for 1 never saw it ! you might have seen ' coachmai and gardener wanted.' " " Coachman and butler, I say !" Fanny shook her head incredulously. . The dispute was likely to wax warm when the TASTR VERSUS FASIIIO>T. 159 father of the family put a stop to further altercation by saying : " Well ! well ! the coachman can be seen about after — better get the coach first !" '" ' 'hen we may have it ?' " Oh ! you dear, darl- ing pa !" " My ! I'm so glad !" cried the girls one after the other, and gathering around poor Tom like a swarm of bees they began to caress him each in their own way, the mother laughing gleefully at the joyfully-exciting scene. " I don't believe there ever 2vas so dear a pa !" ejaculated Fanny by way of winding up. " Well ! I'll tell, you what, girls !" said Mrs. Gal- lagher, " we musn't impose on good nature, so you musn't think of that box at the opera — this season at least." " Box at the opera !" cried Tom opening his large round eyes to their fullest extent ; " why what the mischief will come into your heads next ? — I never heard a word of the box at the opera — I'll be blowed if I stand tliat /" and he stood up and lifted his chair, and set it down again with great ve- hemence. " Not this year, Tom dear !" said his wife sooth- ingly. "No, nor next year either! it 'li be a month of Sundays before you get that length, anyhow!" And so saying, Tom marched out of the room, hav« ing previously thrown his coat back on his shoul- feV .■^'■i \i ■^i ■-,',';'. . ♦ ■■ . « - wy^ ICO ■ 'I" ■ ;^ I ^.v . I iMii f.-. N;' Hni It.- 1^ :%' ^'<,>!|llii|l 1. OLD AND NEW ; OR, ders by a violent jerk expressive of indomitable resolution. " Oh ma ! you've spoiled all !" said Fanny with decided temper ; " what evil spirit put it in your head to say anything about the box at the opera ?" " It's all over now — we'll never get the carriage !" whimpered Ellie, and the three junior Miss Gal- laghers began to sob audibly. " Nonsense, girls !" said the mother cheerily, '* don't be making fools of yourselves ! I tell you we'll have the carriage, and a handsomer one than Mrs. McGilligan's, and a pair of carriage-horses, and a livery-servant — ay ! and the box at the opera, too ! —d'ye mind now ?" Of course the girls did mind, and would mind, and were delighted to mind so ecstatically-dear a parcL- " Well ! but listen to what I'm a-going to tell you!" Never were five hearers more attentive. " If you want to have all this and more just let me manage it all my own way ! — if you be putting in your tongues, without a sign from me, you'll put your foot in it, mind I tell you !" No ! no ! there was not the slightest danger of any such pedal movement — the girls were too mich overjoyed to put either tongue or foot in any plan emanating from their ma's busy brain, and what a I'ttle busy bee of a brain that was, to be sure! It was altogether remarkable what ease and agility Mrs. Gallagher displayed in the " gettin' up stairs" TA3TK VKRSU9 FASHIOX. Ifi that nigbt, considering the " weary legs" she had, and the failing state of her limbs generally. The discrepancy did not escape the keen eyes of the gii'ls, and they laughed merrily as they saw her lead the way in the ascent, with as light a step as any of them. She silenced their miklli, however, by turn lug and shaking her fist at them, for they were now within an unsafe distance of their father, who, if he chanced to hear them laughing so heartily, might peradventure " smell a rat," and, so smelling, begin to reconsider his promise in relation to the carriage. For the next three or four weeks nothing was thought of by Mrs. Gallagher and her daughter? but the all-important affair of the forthcoming equip- age. Eliza was summoned to the family council, and her heart expanded with joy, as in duty bound, at the approaching aggrandizement of her relatives. It might be that she counted on the use of the car- riage for herself to a certain extent, and that visions of state-airings on the Bloomingdale road, with a pair of handsome bays or grays before her and the luxu- rious cushions of a stylish barouche behind and be- neath her, might have been floating through her mind, but what if they did, wasn't Eliza still part of the Gallagher family, and a very important part, too, all the more so for being Mrs. Samuel C. Fogarty. It was decided on, however, at the first general council, held in the front basement of No. 66, that the whole affair was to be kept a profound secret from the Fogartys and every one else, until l.H ■ *1 i-, *V<^> ■■■./-*■' r '>: •"» <'. 1 1 1 . * 62 OLD AND NKW ; OR, ■ * _ •;: i % everything was ready for the grand turn-out, which was appointed for "Sunday three-weekfi," counting from the day of the consultation. The first week was spent by our six ladies i visiting, two by two, the different carriage-factories inspecting colors and material of cushions, style of trimming, &c., comparing what they saw with tho equipages of Mrs. McGilligan aforesaid, and half a dozen other Mistresses of their acquaintance, ail of whom were to be thrown into the shade — in fact annihilated — by the splendor and fashion of the Gallagher cwtege. On the Friday of that week, at three o'clock iu the afternoon, the carriage was purchased — a very elegant family-coach, with a box in front, of course, and a stand behind, also in course, for "the tiger" — that was one day to grace the Gallagher menagerie. The carriage was represented to Tom as a dead bargain, iseeing that it only cost seven hundred dollars^ and it would be worth that to them — ay! and a hundred dollars more — any iday they wished to part with it. Indeed they'd never have got it for anything like what they did, only it so happened that the p ue d necessity that wrung the poison frc^" ' eluctant apothecary of dramatic story coercei worthy v der of car- riages at that particular jui tur* , — in other words that gentleman was badly in wuut of ready money, so said Mrs. Gallagher to Mr. Gallagher — which .ct alone could account for their good luck in obtaining Buch a beautiful, elegant carriage for a mere song ! TASTE VERSUS FASIWOy. 163 Tom was forced to give in, although the good uck in question was not so clear to his perception as it was to his wife's — still he did give in, and handed out the money with the best grace he could. The horses were the next " consideration." The procuring of them was not so difficult a matter as might be supposed. "No one in their senses would ever dream of putting common cart-horses before" 80 splendid a conveyance as the coach-maker's ne- cessity had thrown into the hands of the Gallaghers, 80 Tom, the head of that house, being in his senses, did not dream of any such incongruous proceeding, especially as real good luck had come to him the week previous in the shape of a large contract. So the horses were bought, " two loves of iron-grays,'* (as the delighted Miss Gallaghers phrased it,) with harness of a style and fashion to correspond with the other items of the " turn-out." Atty Garrell, contrary to all expectation, entered vnth spirit into the " coach-and-two" affair, so glorious to the house of Gallagher and its depend- encies ; in fact Atty was quite elate at the prospect of having it to say, and above all to write to Ire- land, that Tom Gallagher, who came from the next townland to him at home, was riding in his coach. Atty was opposed to laying out money on super- fluities, under which head he was wont to class dress in all its branches — albeit, that he had, in the privacy of his own little room in a cheap boarding- house not far from the market, written boastfully to '^' • •.,'.'• i IT'*"'' 1'" t^- it l"?f S ,.1. •• .' <":.'^ , j, m .:■■ ■ '. > .■■.*i'»v i' ' ■r. IN" t |i ill A ■J f ' 164 OT-I) AND NEW ; OR, his people at home that Mrs. Gallagher and hei daughters were " rolling in their silks," and, further- more, that the sum total of the money expended or those silks wherein they rolled would stock a fine farm. On such confidential occasions, honest Atty used to wind up with the emphatic interrogatory " Isn't it the fine country all out ?" generally adding, " I think Tom Gallagher wouH be a long time at home in Kilternan before lie*d como to the likes of that;' So sincere was Attv's coalescence in the measure *' before the house,'' that he volunteered his services to hunt up a fitting charioteer to encase in the blue livery-overcoat already provided, and after some days of anxioiis search (at least all the spare time he had) Atty*8 laudable perseverance was crowned with success, and he had the honor and pleasure of intro- ducing to the assembled fixmily, on the Sunday pre- ceding the great day, " a smart, decent boy — Peter Malowney by name — from within a stone's throw of where he (Atty) was brought up." Peter was not ** green" — he was '\ true blue, if such orthodox color may lawfully distinguish a coachman ; he had seen pood service — that is to say, driven carriages for some of the first in the city, and was, moreover, not altogether unwilling to " take charge of a pantry,' together with a grass-plot. This was all very satisfactory, so far as it went, but there were some other little arrangements still to be made before the affair w^s finally settled. ■. i.'v TASTE VERSUS FASHION. 165 There was no coach-house op the premises, and pending the erection of one, for which there was, luckily, ample space, the carriage was to be kept at •A neighboring livery-stable, together with the two " loves of iron-grays," for whose reception tho stable hitherto occupied by the cart-horses was to undergo a thorough fitting-up, the useful but un- fashionable animals last mentioned to be sen^, " down town" to a livery-stable of less pretensions in the vicinity of the market. All these various ariangem.ents being completed to the entire satisfaction of those most concerned, just three days before the intended demonstration, the ladies feeling quite exhausted after their arduous and unremitting exertions for almost three weeks, resolved to rest lightly on their oars — now tiiat all was fairly under weigh — and refresh their jaded minds and flagging spirits by a few visits to partic- ular friends where they might reasonably hope to get " posted up" in the gossip of the neighborhood, and find out what had been going on whilst they were horse-and-carriage hunting. On the Thursday before the so anxiously-expected Sunday, Mrs. (xallagher and her three youngest daughters went to spend the afternoon, i:^nd possibly (he evening, at " Eliza's," and the two elder were to go in, after tea, to see how the Fogartys " were getting on," with a special charge from their mothtr to try and find out whether they (the Fogartys' " had got any inkling about the carriage." ,'■■• ' ■ . :. • ■;.','. :i - Ml it I'^i-Ai-- '^M i" 3M^ ^yr^ :*« ■i^^' •(* * t ■",-■. '•;:WI, ';. , ■..' j,M.'V'»ii,; m '>;:■■ :,'i.:Mi ''^'f^'^l^f ill !^6 OLD AN'D NEW ; OR, These arrangements for the day being duly dis- cussed at the early breakfast of the family, Tom asked his wife carelessly what time she thought she'd be home. Mrs. Gallagher didn't know for certain. Why did he ask ? Oh ! for no reason in the world, Tom said, only the house would be so lonesome without her — he hoped she'd try and be home before him, at any rate. " My goodness, Tom Gallagher !" said his wife laughing, " what on earth would you do if I was like other women that go out visiting, or walking, or riding, every day of their lives ? I've given you a bad fashion, my good man ! so I must try and break you off of it — I don't think you'll see a sight of us here the night before ten o'clock. D'ye hear that DOW ?" Of course Tom did hear, and acquiesced with a nod and a quiet smile. Tom was a man of few words, generally speaking, and at home he foun-d it the easiest thing in the world to avoid " much speak- ing," his " womankind" being able and willing to do all the talking themselves. Tom was home to tea that evening in good time, and with him was Atty Garrell " drest up to the nines," as Fanny and Ellie said, but, of course, that wap io be expected when pa brought him homo to tea. Tea being over, the two young ladies throwinjc; shawls aiound them, and on their heads rigo'*iUe« 4li'>>! f wv- f? m: ■■• '.^: TASTE VERSUS FASHION' 161 betook tbem to Mrs. Fogarty's, next stone house .above. We shall stay no longer with them there tlian just to mention that by various skilful ma r.oeuvres of a searching, yet non-committing charao ter, they succeeded in ascertaining that the Fogar tys, old and young, were in a state of ignorance concerning the forthcoming "equipage," whichigno* ranee, if it were not bliss to the Fogartys, was de- cidedly bliss to the Miss Gallaghers. When the Gallagher mansion was vacated by the lac^t of the feminine members of the family, strange niovfements were perceptible on the part of the pro- prietor. Immediately he and Atty were both on the alert, and the latter functionary was dispatched on an errand, the nature of which could hardly be ascertained from the quick, tremulous manner and the half- whisper in which the order was given. Left alone, Tom was not idle ; he ascended with unwonted agility to some upper region of his domi- cile, and in a few minutes appeared " as clean as a new pin," to borrow his own expressive metaphor. Tie had hardly returned to the sitting-room when carriage-wheels were heard approaching — then stop- ])ing at the door. Tom rushed out — there was the new carriage, " loves of iron-grays," and all ; — Peter was on the box, minus the livery-coat, however— and beside him was Atty Garrell, whose small bulk Fprang with much velocity to the ground. Tom laughed, and Atty laughed, and Peter on his perch laughed, too, as Tom stepped in, having y if ' ■■ I- ■ ., '. ' ■■* ■■■,. ' ■' , • ; ; ' ;",■ ■ ■•■■,!><•■■■., I , U -11, '*•'<' — • '- ." : . I. f r, V?'^ i5'.-.-*V' ' rv /Irf :;•<,•"-. 168 |;'wIm 1 ■1 ! '■■ 1 ■ .• » fe'; w f ' IM p Ri 1' OLD AND NEW ; OR, first carefully wiped his feet on the mat in the ves- tibule, and warned Atty to do likewise, which ha did. " Jump in, then," said Tom, " w'e'll have the first of the new carriage, Atty, and a glorious night it is, too, for a ride. Isn't it lucky the ground's so dry, or we couldn't venture out — but now mind, Peter, you're to look all over the coach when you have the daylight to-morrow, and clean off any specks that you'll see on it !" " Oh ! leave that to me, sir !" said Peter ; " be- gorra, I wouldn't have a spot on it for my month's wages when the mistress, God bless her ! comes to clap her eye on it !*' " And you'll never say a word about the ride we're goin* to have ?" " Faith ! if he does,'* put in Atty, who had just put himself into the carriage by the side of his prin- cipal, " faith, if he does, it'll be all the worse for himself as well as others ! — well ! I declare, Mr. Gallagher ! it's a bold venture, anyhow, and you're the drollest man that ever lived to think of playing the ladies such a trick !" *' Isn't it a great idaya ?" chuckled Tom. " But, after all, Atty, isn't it my own? didn't I shell out for it ? and I'd like to know who has a better right to it first or last ? And, you see, I wanted you to have the first ride in it, for you're the best friend I have in the world, Atty ! and, in course, if I didn't take you along with myself, the thing wouldn't be *---^,'' ' ■ ■ . * TASTE VERSUS FASHION. 169 done, no how ! So drive on, Peter ! as fast as you can, in the name of God !" " Where do you wish to go, sir?'* *'0h! then, myself doesn't much care, Peter! just drive wherever you like — it's case equal to us." " All right, sir !" and so saying, Peter flourished Lis whip and drove off, as much delighted with the practical joke they were playing on the mistress and the young ladies as either Tom or his fac-totum. Tom Gallagher's courage deserved success, and success he had in his perilous undertaking, for, over and above the pleasure of the ride — all the greater, of course, for being stolen — he had the great good luck to be " home again," as the ballad says, and seated in cushioned and slippered ease at the fire in the sitting-room — the iron-grays and Atty being respectively gone to quarters for the night — when the authoritative ring at the door announced the return of the chatelaine and her daughters — at least some of them; the others made their appear- ance soon after. Mrs. Gallagher was much surprised to see Tom " dressed up," but the change of apparel was satisfactorily explained by the simple announce- ment that " himself and Atty were out on a little business." Fortunately, Mrs. Gallagher's curiosit.y was on another scent just then, so instead of ques- tioning Tom as to the nature of the " little business" aforesaid, she began to inquire of Fanny and Ellie whether the Fogartys had heard of the carriage or not. ' 1 I''' ^^>i^ '■,^y:. •r^ 'J^. : I r-r .1 (1 ,'* 4 '1 if 4 .1 ; i 110 OLD AND NEW ; OR, V-'»l'''t CHAPTER IX. :;-.'3-' lit ' {■■*:; 1 -s **">;■! - *' ;<'-^i ^r ^ .. A MORNING AT RHEINFELDT H0U81. About two weeks after the serenade which had sc, disturbed Bertha, and just when she had partially succeeded in banishing it from her mind, or rather forcing her thoughts into other channels, she went out one bright Spring morning for a walk with Alice Murray, and having left her at her own domicile returned home alone. " Is that you, Bertha ?*' said her mother opening the parlor-door, as her daughter entered the hall. " Yes, mother, it is I — I hope you haven't been wanting me ?" " No, not exactly wanting you, but I am glad you came just now." " And why so, mother ?" " Because I am expecting some gentlemen hero presently to see the house." " To see the house ! for what purpose ? — are you going to let or sell it?" Her mother put a note into her hand ; it was writ- ten in pencil-mark, and she turned to the window to read as follows : " Major Montague and Captain Bellewof the Bri- tish Army present their compliments to Madam Von Wie-^el, and would be much obliged if she 'I ' TASTK VERSUS FASHIOX. 171 " you take / found no would permit them to see certain apartments of her mansion, which, as they are informed, have a his- torical interest for British officers visiting New York. " Astoi* House, Thursday morning." " Why, Bertha !" said her mother, longer to read that note than I did. difficulty in deciphering its contents." " Who brouglit the note, mother ?" said Bertha Btill at the window. " A gentleman's servant, Jan said." " And what answer did you give." ''Why, of course, I sent my compliments that the gentlemen were very welcome to visit any part of the house they might desire to see. I dare say they will soon be here now, as I received the note imme- diately after you left." "Very well, mother! I will be down in a few moments," and so saying Bertha left the room. Having laid aside her bonnet and shawl she has- tened to the oratory, and knelt a moment or two before the little altar — no word escaped her lips, hut her heart breathed a fervent prayer, and she bowed her head before the maternal figure of Our Lady, then rose very pale but very calm, and de- scended to the parlor with a slow but firm step. She had hardly taken her seat in the recess of one of the front windows when the door-bell rang, and Jan throwing open the parlor-door announced "two gentlemans to see madam." They had given theii ■,4 ' ;. 4' '( i Lis** 1 ''"''■*• *, ■ ( M ,* '. •; r it'- ^w .■\ m „ .t ns OLD AND NEW ; OR, ti ••.1. ■•; ;»:■■•' 4y: 4' ;! i€': names but •Jan's Teutonic tongue found it easier to pasjf thera over. Madam Von Wiegel arose and so did her daugh- ter to receive the visitors, who, though dressed as civilians, bore about them the marks and manners of military men. One of them was a tall distinguished- looking man about five-and-thirty, whose face, though singularly handsome, was somewhat bronzed by ex- posure to the sun, and its dark Southern hue was made darker still by a shadow from within that might be pride or melancholy, perhaps both. However it was, it was a face which both attracted and repelled, a face one might love yet fear to look upon, the fear not so much from any sinister expression as a certain degree of sternness that, after all seemed foreign to the fine intellectual features. The other gentleman was lower in stat e and stouter in build, with a frank, cheerful, good- humored countenance, blue laughing eyes, a broad white forehead, large sandy whiskers, and a profii- pion of auburn hair ; he might have been a year or two older than his companion, but his manner being easier and more careless made him appear the younger of the two. "Madam Yon Wiegel, I presume?" said thi taller of the visitors bowing with the ease of a finished gentleman. Madam Von Wiegel bowed assent. *' My name, madam, is Fugai' Montague, major is her Britannic Majesty's regiment of foot." TASTR VERSUS FASHION. 173 " And mine, madam !" said his friend rather ab- ruptly, " is Gerald Bellew, captain in the same— both very much at Madam Von Wiegel's service." The old lady bowed again, this time with a pleased smile, for the frank courtesy of Bellew'a manner at once prepossessed her in his favor. " Pray be seated, gentlemen !" she said loftily, yet kindly. " You wish, it seems, to see some of the apartments of this house ?" " With your permission, madam !" said the cap- tain, to whom she had more particularly addressed herself " We have been told that this venerable mansion was the residence and head-quaa*ters of Sir William Howe during the British occupation of New York, and that a room in it was sometime occupied by the unfortunate, but ever-regretted Major Andre — is it so, madam ?" " It is, sir, and we shall he happy to comply with your wish to see the room which is, even to us, an object of interest from its association with the memory of a brave and accomplished though un- fortunate gentleman. My daughter and I will ac- company you, as our major-domo is neither the most intelligent nor intelligible o^ ciceroni. Bertha, my dear ! Major Montague and Captain Bellew— my daughter, gentlemen !" Whether the gentlemen's eyes had or had not been straying towards the graceful occupant of the reoess, they had not attempted to address her, and , * ■I •■ ,• WW Mi' 174 OLD AND NEW j OR, y'lAi;:!! • ( ' . m. u now when she rose to acknowledge the introductiorij they both bowed in silence, even the captain with a Bort of restraint that was very different from his previous manner, whilst his more reserved com panion scarcely bent his proud head. A rich glow like that of the setting sun's last beam suffused Bertha's face ; it was only for a mo- ment, but that very moment Montague raised his eyes from the stiff, geometrical lines on the Persian carpet, and looked her full in the face. Their eyes met for an instant, but whatever passed, or if any- thing passed, no particular emotion was visible on either side — both bowed, civilly but rather coldly, as a close observer could not fail to have perceived. It might have been only fancy, though, for coldness and reserve seemed natural to both lady and gentle- man. " Major Andre's room is on the second story," said Madam Von Wiegel, movieg towards the door. " Could not your servant show us the room, madam 'r" said the Major. " We cannot permit you to take so much trouble in order to gratify the whim of two idle tourists." " Excuse me, sir ! What you call trouble is really a pleasure to us." " In that case, permit me to offer my arm !" Strangely enough the old lady had just taken the captain's arm, which that lively gentleman offered with a smile and a bow. i;., "m^ w TASTE VERSUS FASHION. 175 With a comical side-long glance at his friend, tha captain moved on with the lady of the mansion on his arm. Montague looked at Bertha, and was evidently about to offer the rejected arm for her acceptance, but the cold smile that curved her lip brought the red blood to his cheek and he walked on in silence by her side. In this order they all ascended the broad, easy stairs, and reaching a wide, cheerful corridor lit from a larr<*e window on the staircase, Bertha stepped forward and opened a door about midway on one side. " This, gentlemen, is — or was Major Andre's room. The furniture has undergone little alteration, as you may perceive, since he slept for the last time on yonder couch," pointing to a low, uncurtained bed, very much resembling a camp-bed, which stood with its head to the wall between the two windows that gave light to the room. She was about to open the window curtains, bat Montague's voice arrested her, and she turned in- voluntarily to look into his face, his tone was so earnest. '• Do not, Miss Von Wiegel ! pray do not ! Ex- cuse me," he added, with a sudden change of man- ner, as it were recollecting himself " I know not how it may be with others, but to my thinking thi/ veiled light through those curtains is more in keep ing with the saddening associations of the place.' ?> .,'- t .>&..'• •m 's Jt' V .!'• ;• * ■ ..I ,,, , . •*■ 176 OLC AND KKW ; OR, " I believe you are right, Montague !" said his friend in a subdued tone, even he feeling the sombre influence of the scene. Bertha quietly withdrew her hand from the cur- tain and bowed her acquiescence; she sighed, but BO low that no one heard her ; it was on her lips to eay that she never voluntarily admitted a strong light mto the room where the melancholy shade of Andre seemed etill to hover over every object, but she checked herself and remained silent. AVhilst the captain walked round tlie room with Madam Von Wiegel still by his side, Major Mon- tague stood in thoug' tful mood with his arm resting on the low mantel-piece ; Bertha watched hirn for a moment — it was evident to her, by the expression of his face, that the sad story of poor Andre was not in sole possession of his mind, and a strange smile curved her own lip ; all at once he started, looked up, and catching the expression of Bertha's face where she stood at a little distance, he colored, bit his lip, and then smiled, too, with a careless and unembarrassed air. "I was thinking, Miss Von Wiegel !" said he with perfect composure, " of the one who divided poor Andre's heart with his country's cause — I fancy the thought of how keenly she would feel his disgrace must have been to him amid all the anticipated horrors of a spy's death, what Shakspeare describes ingratitude — more keen than serpent's tooth. It was souietbing— oh ! much — to know that, thougb f ^ , •.;> ■■:^^ tastr versus fashion. 177 all the world condemned, she would never believo liiiii guilty." He added, as if halt" unconsciously : " Yes ! weep, and however my foes may cundema Thy tears shall effdce their decree, For heaTen can witness, tho' guilty to them I have been but too faithful to thee!" Without looking at Bertha — and she was glad he did not — he walked quickly to the other end of the large square chamber where Madam Von Wiegel was giving his friend some interesting details which tra dition had handed down concerning the former tenant of the room, and the stern commander whoso tortuous policy proved so fatal to him. They next visited the drawing-room which had been the receptioti-room of Lady Howe; independ- ent of the associations connected with it, and the brilliant memories the sight of it conjured up, the spacious room was nowise remarkable, except for the elegant simplicity of the furniture, and the taste displayed in its arrangement, the whole having a som-ewhat more modern aspect than any of the other apartments. The hangings were of blue da- mask, and the sofas and chairs and ottomans were covered with the same, as was also a divan which occupied the centre of the room. The walls on either side of the large, old-fashioned fireplace were graced with portraits of Madam Von Wiegel and her deceased husband, taken evidently a score of years before, when age had not yet wrinkled the brow or bleached the hair ol" either. The Rittei * :| »• ^-<, •^M'^ i t 178 OT,n AND NEW ; OR, ;v4 ,. I .' -Hull '1* ■'t.l 1 Von Wiegel was represented as a tall and rather slender figure slightly bent, with a finely-shaped head and features of a most prepossessing cast, though marked by the strong peculiarities of his race; the complexion was fair and the eyes light, with a certain solidity of look that approached to heaviness, indicating his Teutonic origin. Still it was a handsome face expressive of good, rather than great qualities, and you felt as yon. looked on it that the Kitter Von Wiegel was in his lifetime a man who had few or no enemies and many friends. Opposite was the portrait of Bertha, in a dark- green riding habit, which showed to advantage the beautiful symmetry of her form, whilst the low- crowned hat, with its long ostrich plume shading her brow, completed the grace and majesty of the fissure. The dark lustrous eves beamed down from the canvas with a sweet thoughtfulness in their clear depths, and there was earnestness and self control impressed on every feature, the light of genius plaj/ ing over all. It was a beautiful face, and when Madam Von Wiegel stopped before it with her companion he could not repress his admiration. " By Jove ! madam, that is a picture worth look* ing at P' The old lady smiled. " As much as to say, cap- tain ! that the others were not so !" " I beg a thousand pardons, madam ! I should do injustice to the artistic excellence of the other portraits and also to the original subjects were I to 'U\ > f- TASTft VERSUS FASHION'. 179' say or insinuate any such thing. I think I may say without being suspected of flattery, that what tho drlginal of this picture is, the original of that vf^K^V 'i'lirning and pointing to the maternal portrait, and 1 (owing at the same time to the really handsome old lady. "I say Montague !" said the captain, "have you seen this portrait ?' " Yes," said vhe major carelessly ; he was turning over the leaves of a volume of engravings that lay on one of the tables. " Have you seen these en gravings ?— they are copies of Raphael's Madon nas ; " If you rjre a lover of the arts. Captain Bellew !" Faid Bertha, who was arranging the flowers in a vase, "you will find them worthy of attention." Here the door opened^ and a dashing young fel- low in the undress uniform of the United States army made his appearance, and in the easiest and most careless way imaginable was walking across ^iie room to Bertha, saying in a gay and lightsome tone : " You must wish n>e joy„ Bertha ! I have got my commission, at last !" when perceiving the strangers he drew himself up, and bowed first to Madam Von Wiegel, then to Ber*^ha — very slightly to the gentlemen. "Good morning, Robert !*' said Bertha advanc ing to shake hands with the young officer; "so vou've got your commission ! I am very, very [^}'m\. I dare say your father and Alice are glad, too ri :1' t, •JfM it,. « 180 OLD AND NEW ; OR, though, after all, it will deprive us of your society just when we have learned to value it." "Perhaps not," said her mother; " have you any idea, Robert, where you are to be sent ?" " Not the slightest, madam ! but I am willing to go ' wherever duty calls me,' as tlie old song says — provided I am not forgotten by — my friends !' and he glanced furtively at Bertha. " The girls we leave behind us,^^ said the merry captain, " are apt to stand in the foreground on such occasions. Excuse me, sir ! I speak from experience, for I, too, have the honor of bt^ng a son of Mars, and my first parting from hoiiv and loved ones is not yet forgotten." The soldierly frankness of Bellew's manner quite disarmed Robert, who had been rather disposed to resent this abrupt speech. He exchanged a polite bov/ with the captain, and looked at his companion, but seeing no encouragement in his apparently- supercilious silence, and the cold reserve of his manner, Robert eyed nim without speaking aad turned again to the captain. And may I ask, sir ! to what service i/ou belong ?" Of course you may — I serve Her Majesty the Queen of Great Britain, and my name is Bellew— Captain Bellew." " And my name. Captain Bellew ! is Murray — till this morning a Cadet in the Military Academy nt West Point — for the last hour Second Lieutenant in thp " United States regiment of infantry.*' (< (( '; TASTE VKRSUS FASHION. 181 " I wish you joy, sir, ot your appointment — oura Is a noble profession !" said the captain, and the two officers shook hands. " But by your name you ought to be Irish," said Robert Murray — " do you belong to the Bellews of Louth of whom I have so often heard ?" " I do, but not exactly to the Bellcwstown family.* '' I thought you must be Irish," said Robert ; " there is no possibility of mistaking an Irish gentle- man — when we have the good fortune to meet him." " Well ! and what do you suppose my friend here is ?" said Bellew laughing and indicating the major by a side-nod. Murray turned and glanced upwards again at the dark handsome face over which a faint smile was now breaking like the Ai^rii sun through the wintry clouds that sometimes darken the early spring. Strangely enough he looked at Bertha before he answered, and he colored to the temples when he saw her eyes fixed intently on the face he had been exammmg. " Really I cannot say," said Robert turning away rather pettishly. " Whatever the gentleman is, he is not an Irishman — rather a Spanish hidalgo, I think — or a Turkish Bey !" he muttered to himself, then paying something in a low voice to Madam Von Wiegel, he nodded to Bertha and Captain Bellew and left the room. " Is he gone, mother ?" said Bertha in surprise , " why I wanted to ask him how Alice's oough is to %■ V. ■ f > 182 OLD AND NEW ; OR, J :■'•«' day and whether they went up the river yesterday as they intended." "You can still ask him, then,'* said her mother, " he is only gone down to the parlor." " A fine young fellow that !" said Bellew to his friend. " I cannot say much for his politeness," Montague returned with a smile. " Pooh ! pooh ! he's only a boy, you know !" " If he be, he is a boy of considerable preten- sions " " That I grant you," the captain rejoinjed with emphasis. " Madam Von Wiegel," said the major approach ing the old lady, who had seated herself on a sofa, " I fear we are trespassing on your time, and at tht same time presuming on your kindness. Permit us to thank you for your polite attention, and the very great pleasure you have afforded us." " I am happy. Major Montague," said Madam Von Wiegel with her grave courtesy, 'Hhat we have been able to contribute even in a slight degree to your entertainment and that of your friend. British officers though you be, unlike my young friend Robert Murray, I can confidently claim you boik for countrymen. I am not mistaken, am 1 ?" " Certainly not, madam 1" began the major. " If you are " He stopped short, and hesitated, for he had caught an ironical glancr from Bertha, where she stood ar- ■ m' : I" - II' TASTE VERSUS FASHION. 183 ranging the cover on a harp that stood enveloped in green baize in a corner opposite. " Irish !" repeated Madam Von Wiegel ; " need you ask ?" " Certainly not, madam," put in the captain jusi as the major had said it before; "though your speech does not betray you, there is that about you which speaks to us of home. There is a freemasonry, you know, existing between persons from the same country that places them at once on an easy footing. We must not longer trespass on your time, as my right honorable and gallant friend says — (I speak in parliamentary style, you see) -for which reason, madam ! we shall now bid you good morning.*' Ha made his bow, as did the major, and both turned to look for Bertha, but she had vanished. " Not so soon, gentlemen," said Madam Von Wiegel standing up; " you will do us the fiivor of sharing our early lunch before you go ?" The gentlemen looked at each other, and then the captain said, in his blithesome way: "The offer is too tempting, madam, to be on any account re- jected." When Madam Von W^iegel and the two ofticers descended to the breakfast parlor where she had ordered lunch to be served, they found Bertha and Robert Murray standing before the fireplace in earnest conversation. As they enteicd, Bertha turned away with what seemed a disturbed air, and Robert threw himself on a seat, with a muttered 184 OLD AND NEW ; OR, %^^- anathema on something or somebody t'lat had roused his ire — very hot while it lasted, but that was never long. "Will you not join us, Robert?" said Madam Von Wiegei as she took her seat. " No, thank you ! I have an appointment at one, and it is now after twelve." " But surely," said Bertha, " you can Innch with Tis and still keep your appointment. You will not refuse my mother's invitation ?" He looked at her steadily a moment, she smiled and beckoned him over, and he seated himself at the table laughing and saying pleasantly: "It is not often, Captain Bellew, one meets such good com- pany." " True, my young friend ! and, moreover, ladies' commands are law to us soldiers. Permit me to pledge you, lieutenant ! in this excellent claret." " With much pleasure, captain ! I drink to our better acquaintance ! — may I ask how long you have been in New York ?" " About a week — we have been exploring in the neighborhood, chiefly amongst the historical scenes on the Hudson hereabouts. We have also spent ?> couple of pleasant days at Sannyside with the patri- arch of American literature." " Oh ! you mean Washington Irving — I have not the pleasure of knowing him personally." " He is one of the most amiable of men and ao- oompliehed of literati,*' obeoi'ved the major; " he > i TASTE VERSUS FASHION, 185 reminds me more than any one else of our own Rogers, whose urbanity and benevolence are so justly celebrated." *' Then you know Samuel Rogers ?" asked Bertha abstractedly ; she was looking very thoughtful just then. " Yes, I met him at Hampton Court when I went down with some friends to visit the old place. 1 was just after reading the Pleasures of Memory, and was rejoiced to meet its author under such circum- stances. It was no ordinary pleasure to have the privilege of supporting the poet's failing steps for an hour or two through the scenes of Wolsey's greatest splendor — where every ob|<3Ct bore the impress of his gorgeous taste, and his colossal shadow rested on all.** " It loas a pleasure,*' said Bertha, her cheek slightly flushed ; " yes memory has its pleasures — though all memories are nof pleasant — however," she added quickly, '* Hampton Court is a place of ma/ty memo- ries — alas ! how strangely varied !" " Well !" said the captain, desirous of giving the conversation a more lively turn, *' you may talk as you will about the ' Pleasures of Memory,' but give me the ' Pleasures of Hope.' A bas Rogers and Vive Campbell, say I !'' " I vote for Campbell, too,*' said Robert, " but on different grounds. I admire him as the classically- elegant author of the 'Pleasures of Hope,' but I love him as the sweet singer whose deathless lay '^'^ NKW ; OR, I I- } ^ti has tbrown dignity and grace around the sorrows of ' the Exile of Erin.' Scotchman as he was, Thomas Campbell had an Irish heart, and the Irish people and their descendants in every clime owe him a debt of gratitude. lie has left us in that immortal ballad a legacy of love, and a pledge of sympathy as warm as ever glowed in a poet's heart.' The young man spoke with unwonted warmth, and, seeing the silent attention with which his words were heard, he was half ashamed, and blushed like a bashful maiden. Bertha looked her approbation, and her beaming smile encouraged Robert and served to restore his compo.iure. " Why, Robert," said Madam Von Wiegel kindly, " you have grown eloquent of late. I was not aware that the joys or sorrows of poor distant Ireland — a country which you never saw — could call forth your enthusiasm to such a degree." " I am sorry, madam, that you should ever have doubted my love for Ireland. True, I never saw it, but the day on which I see it first shall be marked in white on my life's calendar. Why should I no^, love and honor it ? — what land on earth has so many claims on the love and honor of its children — and their children ?" " Can, then, a man have two countries ?" asked the captain in a more serious tone than he had yet Bpoken in. " Yes,*' said Robert promptly and frankly: "/have TASTK VERSUS FASHIOV. 187 two countries : — Ireiand, tlie craclle of my race, the {▼rave of my fathers, the most faithful of Christian nations — America, or rather the United States of America, the land of my birth, tlie land of home and friends, the freest under the sun. Both are equally dear to my heart, and for either I am willing to shed my blood." "Bravo, lieutenant!" cried Belle w warmly, "your sentiments do you honor, and, upon my honor, you have infused a kindred spirit into me. Of course I do not mean to say that I did not love <^ur old motherland before — that would not be true — but I am not ashamed to own that I have learned a lesson from an American officer, and for the future /, too, will have two countries ?" " Two^ will you?" asked Montague in a significant tone. " Confound it, no !" was the energetic reply of the mercurial captain ; " we, after all, can have but one — we wear the livery of England, and receive her pay — at her behest we will draw our swords, but when it comes to a question of country — patHe^ you know — why, we can have but one — En^Ia7id can never he to the Irishmen who serve her what Columbia in to her Irish'men. We are faithful to her cause not from love but from honor." " Come, come !" said the major with a melancholy imile and a quivering lip, " you forget the presence of your superior officer — I fear I shall be under the necessity of submitting your case to a court-martial." 4r* v".^*- 188 OI,P A\D NEW ; OR, . i '■■ ■ "•■;,}■*';■ " It were a good deed,'* said Bertha pointedly, " to hand him over to British justice for ackn owl edging the heinous crime of loving his native land. Yes ^|. were a deed to boast of at the mess-table !" The captain looked surprised — Robert started up and looking at his watch said he had but a few minutes to get to the place of his appointment, and having shaken hands cordially with the captain and the ladies, bowed to the major and hurried away, preceded by Jan to open the door. The two officers then rose to take their leave, with a renewed expression of their thanks. " Our acquaintance must not end here, though," said Madam Von Wiegel; " we shall be happy to see you often during your stay in New York." Captain Bellew accepted the offe* with visible pleasure, Major Montague with a hesitation that was not very flattering, to say the Irast of it, and an air of cool indiiference that did not escape the ladies, and tended no little to confirm Madam Yon Wiegel in her prepossession against him. " What a cold impassible man that is !" said she after the gentlemen had taken their leave. " Who do yo'^ mean, mother ?'* asked Bertha with a start. "Why, who cotild I mean but that Major Mon- tague? Captain Bellew I like very much, indeed, but his friend is one of those persons with whom I could never feel at ease. Still there is something tbout him, I know not what, that gives you the TASTF. VF.RSrS PASHlOJf. 189 impression of a very superior person — far, indeed, above the common level — and lie is, without excep- tion, one of the handsomest men I have seen, with manners that a prince might envy. But yet- II (( But yet he is not to my dear mother's taste?" said Bertha in a lower tone than usual, and a faint, a very faint smile. " Well ! I dare say you may be right. There is too much of the field-marshal about him for most people's liking. Still appearances are Bometimes deceitful, so let us not judge our new acquaintance too harshly at first." When Bertha found herself alone after the rush and whirl of the day's emotions, she threw herself on a sofa and buried her face in her hands. " What am I to think?" she murmured. "He was not in town two weeks ago — it could not have been he ! — was it, then, after all, imagination ? — yet the hand- kerchief could not have been so — surely that was reality — but those initials may not have been his ? mystery on mystery ! does he contiiue worthy of my love ? alas ! I know not — God knows. I shall Bee him again, however, and even that is some- thing.'* With this thought she composed her mind, and returned to her mother. t '•*. ff A %. IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) 1.0 I.I IIM 1.8 1-25 1.4 1.6 ^ — 6" ► p /} <^. /y. '^^^■" o 7 /A Photographic Sciences Corporation \ %^ \ \ ^9) V ^> ^ n."\,.<., "' ; ! t ■< CHAPTER X. rU£ CAB 0? TRIUMPH, TWO NICE YOUNG MEN, AND A ROUGH CUSTOMER. " My goodness gracious ! girls, come here !" cried one of the Miss Hacketts, on the Sunday appointed for the grand demonstration at No. 66, " Will you come quick, I say ?" To this imperative demand the other two re- sponded by approaching the window at which their sister stood, in a double quick march. In answer to their impatient interrogatories as to the cause of the peremptory summons, Ann Wil- helmina pointed to a phenomenon which stood, in the foria of a carriage and pair, at the door of the Gallagher n.ansion. "Dear me I what a beautiful carriage!" "Isn't jt grand ?" " Where did it come from ?" « Why, sure/i/, it a'nt their own!" "La! if it were, no- body could stand thera, and, goodness knows, but they're bad enough now !" " My gracious ! can it be their own ? Do let us watch and see !'* The clouds of uncertainty soon rolled away, for out came Mrs. Tom Gallagher, and after her, in quick succession, the three eldest of her unmarried daughters, all " rolling in silks," as Atty Garrell would say No cavalier being in attendance, the TASTE VERSUS FASHION. 191 four ladies assisted e&ch other into the carriage, and there established themselves in the most luxuriously- easy postures — then the liveried coachman closed tlie door and mounted his box, and cracked his whip in true Jehu style, and dashed down the street aiid turned out on the avenue, (agreeable, it was supposed, to previous instructions,) leaving the three Miss Hacketts at their window, and Tom Gallagher at hia window — for some reason best known to him- self he had positively refused to ride to Church that first day in the new carriage — his two younger daughters at another point of observation, and Mrs. Fogarty and Julia at their window — for they, too, had discovered the strange appearance at the Gal- lagher door — and, in short, a dozen others in the vicinity, all at the windows, and in a perfect state of bewilderment, wondering whether they were sleeping or waking ; — in this latter condition of doubt, Tom was not exactly included, that worthy man being quite satisfied that the vision was real, and repre- sented one thing with another some two thousand odd dollars of his honest money, between carriage, horses, harness, livery, ladies' dresses, jewelry and all. Truly it was a goodly show, and as it rolled on and on through the crowded streets many an ad- miring, and, perhaps, envying glance was cast on the fortunate quartette of ladies who sat so com- fortably " On cushions made with taste," a«i sung by Sam Lover for the love-sick individual '. . • . • r • • ■•*>■' ■T." . ■ ,; #r.*. y £ % 'k^' '■...-■-In. > ■ « • V i f92 OLD AND NEW ; OR, who preferred to all more pretentioas equipages his Peggy's " Low-back'd car." Being Sunday morning and the hour for " last Mass," many of the Gallaghers* acquaintances were found amongst the crowds on the trottoirs, and great was the astonishment of the persons so taken b} surprise. Then did each one nudge their com- panion's elbow, if companion they had, to " look at Tom Gallagher'u people in a grand new coach" — th«n, too, did these pedestrians endeavor to catch the eye of any of the ladies in the carriage, and if they succeeded in obtaining a recognition, with how much importance did they look round to see how many noticed the honor they had received in being favored with a look or a smile from out of such an equipage. Nor were these recognitions at all like angels* visits — they were neither " few nor far between," for it was no part of Mrs. Gal- lagher or the Misses Gallaghers' programme to hide themselves from public view whilst exhibiting their new carriage. / - ^ Arrived at the Church-door, the excitement reached its climax, which climax was capped by an ironical curtsey from a neglected cousin of Mrs. Gallagher's, who was fortunate enough to get within speaking distance of her opulent relative. " Wisha, then, the top o* the mornin' to you, Nelly Cooney !" said or rather cried the somewhat sluttish individual, whose clothes, in addition to be- ing poor and mean, looked dirty and untidy. "Ah I TASTE VER8U3 FAiv«ON. 193 Bure, isn't it myself that's overjoyed entirely to see you comin* ridin' up in your own carriage, with everything on you so grand and so beautiful, an* them darlin' fine ladies, your daughters, all dre^^sed in silk, with as much red goold on them and you a? would make a lady of me! Ooh! Nelly! Nelly! sure its little you thought once in your day you'd ever come to this ! — but it's givin' me the could shoulder she is ! — augh ! see what it i" to be poor !" she wound up, with a comical leer al the by-standers who were well disposed to enjoy the joke. Amongst those who witnessed this amusing scene were Madam Von Wiegel and her daughter, and also the Murray s who were alighting at the moment from Mr. Murray's modest equipage, from the driver's seat of which Robert sprang to hand out the ladies. At the same moment Henry Hack- ctt and his son Michael stood back to i >ake way for their passage and raised their hats respectfully. "There," said Henry after they passed, "there go some real Irish ladies — not any of your sham quality — and just look at the difference between them and the Gallaghers there that scarce know which end of them is uppermost because they have nade money and can dress in style and drive a carnagre l»> " True for you, Mr. Hackett," said a decent- looking elderly man near him, whose sinewy hands bespoke the son of toil; "true for you, sir! it's easy knowin' them that were always used to good r-v.^'.r. ■ '. ■■■^ii' '■■ t" ^S^^TJ ' \- '■» r if f^^^JKL -i S'. tm v-^-V-S' : ■ f *, - ■ ( . > . < J. '- ■■.-'.-■frJ", .:^V ■ * t l^-n- ■.,,ll ■. ■^ ■. . 1 J. .(> ■ ' , »,;' '' .« .- .• „ '' < ' . ••-1'; ■ ..' J' ' % ■J ■ ' ■ 'i 194 OLD AND NEW ; OR, •< ^..^ » 1»' j; i. .' • i , ..; ) ' ■:;■: v'^-*- ( id ■^'^'« - - - -- • dress and good livin' — they never put any airs on them, for they know the people will respect them anyhow ! I knew them ladies and gentlemen were the rale sort the minute I laid my eyes on them." " Well ! that old gentleman, Mr. Murray — tha young officer is his son — raised himself here to what he is. To be sure he came of decent people at home and had a good share of education when he came out, but still he was low enough in cash — Eo he told me himself not many days ago — but somehow he got along first-rate here and God pros- pered his endayvors, and now he's worth a power of money, they say, and nas retired from business, and I tell you what he's just the man that's always ready, too, to befriend any one from home when they stand in need of it. A gentleman every inch of him, and so is his son." "You know them all well, Mr. Hackett?" said another man civilly. ' ' " Well ! I can't say I know them well," said Henry, " but I'm proud to say that both families are customers of mine, and a good spoke in my \s heel they are, too !" Here the Mass-bell rang, and the loiterers on th« steps and about the door hurried hat in hand into the Church calm and collected as Christians ought to be entering the house of God, which is " the house of prayer," and " the place where His glory dwelieth." After the new turn-out had rolled away, and van TASTE VERSUS FASHION. 195 isheil from the wondering eyes of the neighbors of Mrs. Gallagher Tom put on his hat, walked to 25th street, where he heard Mass in St. Columba's Church, with reverence and devotion. Tom Gallagher was at heart a good, practical Christian, though he seldom talked of religion, and, indeed, knew only as much about it as was necessary to discharge the duties it pre- scribes. Tom was ^ controversialist, or, for that matter, any other ist — but he loved his religion, and practised its precepts to the best of his ability with- out either affecting piety, or going out of his way to establish a reputation, for, as he used to say himself, when by chance the subject was forced upon him : ♦' I don't care one brass button about what people think of me, when I know Fm keepin' the Com- mandments of God and the Church, and doing no hurt or harm to any one — at least that I know of.' He had just got back to his own djoor when the carriage drove up, and Tom, according to his ideas of politeness, made all haste to open the carriage- door and let the ladies out. Peter, finding his office forestalled, drew back out of sight grinning from ear to ear. Poor Tom got little thanks for his pains, for a chorus of " wiy.?," and " /a*," and " dear mes" greeted his ear within the vehicle as soon as he opened it ; his wife looked daggers — and sharper instruments if they could be looked — and each in turn, as they stepped from the carriage, accosted him with : ♦• •' ', ',»■".: ... v:' vx>Ss :*:>^;- ">' ;4,*., '^ '■ I ■'■ ■ ■ ' ''^,\lf-* ■ » .1' •-■ ■;'S \\-H ^' »*' •' ..'Av,- 'i\ >,'' "• , •;'.->j f '•■ Jl 1 1 .,,,.■- ■ • . ■»( ■■.HI, }-■". ^^1 ■v'll 106 OU) AND NEW ; OR, " Tom Gallagher ! you're the stupidest man living this day 1" " Dear me, pa ! what a thing for you to do ! — I'm Burf* you might know better than that at any rate 1" " To expose us so before Peter and all the neighbors !" "Pa! I'm really ashamed of you!'* Tom looked at each speaker in succession, and stood gazing after them as they flounced up the steps in high dudgeon, with a most ludicrous ex- pression of amazement on his honest countenance. " Peter 1" screamed Miss Gallagher from the top of the steps, in a falsetto voice loud enough to bo heard by all passers-by ; " Peter, ma says to put the horses in the stable, and the carriage in the coach- house !" " Yes, miss !" said Peter aloud with a flourishing bow, but in an under tone he added : " I'd like to know where else I'd put the horses but in the stable ! — coach-house, inagh ! hadn't we better wait tiW'iVBbuihr So irreverently soliloquized Peter as he dashed away to the livery-stable to put the loves of irou- grays in the way of getting their dinner. Meanwhile the offended dignitaries of the house- hold had marched j^i'ocessionally into the hall, fol* lowed at more than civil distance by the nominal owner of the mansion, who felt that a storm-cloud was about to discharge itself on his devoted head, though of what kind it was to be — whether rain, Taste versus pashiok 1»7 hail) or thuj'.ucr auu lightning, he was not sufficiently weather-wise to know beforehand. He thought, however, and, perhaps, thought wisely, that the longer the cloud was gathering, the more violent would be the discharge when it came. Closing the door carefully after them, then, Tom screwed his courage up to the sticking point, and civilly requested to know in what he bad offended. The whole four took upon themselves to answer, but his wife's voice, being the shrillest, he heard her best. " Yes ! you may well ask, Tom Gallagher ! as if you didn t know ! — it's ashamed of yourself you ought to be ! it was a nice thing, wasn't it, now ? to see the likes of you, Tom Gallagher — a man that drives his own carriage *' " Faith ! I don't— Peter drives it." " None of your dry jokes, now ! I'm in no joking humor, I can tell you. I say wasn't it a nice thing to see you coming to open the carriage-door your- sell; instead of lettin' the coachman come down and open it, and make a polite bow to us as we got out ?" *' Why, bless my soul !" cried Tom, " I thought it was just the thing for a gentleman like me — ahem to hand the ladies out when I chanced to be to the fore." " Yes ! but it wasn't just the thing for you to open the door yourself, pa ! and mind you don't dc It again !" »■ . * » * ■ K V ■ >•' •-,- "*ii 1^, . ,>'■ ,■ t. ; •'■*■■'■'"■*£ J f s \ • a "i"-' '■.■J '• wpw i ., '!-*-i-i. > , ■I' ' 1 * 'Hf.'l ;:h*>:^ ..i^v* '^■ 1 98 OLD AND NEW ; OR, Tom promised, as per force he should, and waa turning away, naturally supposing the lecture ended, but it was not. " Tom Gallagher !" said his wife when she caught a full view of his outer man on the rear side, " Tom Gallagher!" elevating her voice at every syllable till it reached a most formidable height, " do you mean to say you went tc Church in that trim ?'* " Why, what other trim would I go in ?'* de- manded Tom, who was growing a little restive. " Well ! now, girls ! just look at that !" said the excited matron, taking hold of her passive lord and master and turning him backwards and forwards so as to give the young ladies a full view of him front and rear ; "just look at that 1 look at the coat he went to last Mass in — and the vest — and the pants!" * Why, what's the matter with the clothes ?" said Tom stoutly facing the enemy. " Do you see any holes in them?" ■ t, "No, I don't " " Thunder and turf, then !" cried Tom, " what's the reason you make such a rout about them ?" " Because they're not tit to be seen — that's the reason — and if you had the spirit of a dog, or cared anything at all about your family, you wouldn't g«> to last Mass on a Sunday in that old faded-look ing suit! Lord help us!" she added pathetically, " there's little use in our trying to make a decent .y • TA3TR VERSUS FASBIOM. 199 appearance, or get into any sort of respect, while that's the way you go on !" Here one of the young ladies opened the parloi door, saying as she did so, in a voice loud enough to be heard all through the room : " Why, ma ' what's the use of your talking to pa? you know you'll never get /m;i to dress with any kind of taste ?'* Horror of horrors ! the parlor was not vacant as they expected, but tenanted by two young gentle- men, excruciatingly well-dressed, and in fact belong- ing undeniably to that enviable class whose peculiar neatness is vulgarly and very generally associated with the possible inhabitants of band-boxes. These well-dressed young gentlemen found it no easy matter, we may suppose, to keep their respect- ive countenances, especially when the confusion of the mother and daughters on discovering their un- expected proximity assumed a really ludicrous as- pect. They were so much intent on the subject matter of their visit, however, and so anxious to cultivate' the favorable opinion of the family, that they succeeded to a marvel in maintaining their com- posure. The first awkward moment being over, and the somewhat constrained salutation satisfactorily ex- changed — the visitors being introduced to " ma" as Mr. Green and Mr. Brown, whom the young ladies had met at a surprise party* a few evenings ♦ To our readers out of New York, and especially those o: European habits, it may be necessary to explain what manuei '.■• 'V *--'-"'*i!Kli .••f . ">/ J--, , *• ••» - m0B ■ ■ 4 ■ 'fy' .. 800 OLD AND NEW ; OR, '■') :.•' 'v^ '■ ' V • t ^ I 1' ■II . ^, ' ■.?' 1* •J- r '■■ :- ■ ....■ '-^ t ■-•^? 1 i It ■ (,, J,:- l>efore. The truth was that they had been the theinu of many a critical and culogintic uolioquy ever bince amongst the Gallagher ladies, and '* ni.i- herself was secretly overjoyed to see them. As lor Tom, be had betaken himself from the hall to some othc^r region of the house, impelled by a gentle hint from his wife in the shape of a thump on the back from her little wiry fist, together with a vocal ad- monition in an eager whisper, to " be off and make himself decent, and then come down to the parlor." On his way up stairs Tom had, I regret to nay, some serious thoughts of disobeying, but the pen- alty was too much for Tom's courage to brave, and the combined attack of six able and efficient vocal organs was not to be idly provoked, so Tom pru- dently smothered his rebellious inclination, arrayed himself in his best black suit, and resolutely des- cended to the parlor, where he found the gentlemen of color on their legs and in the act of bidding "good-bye" to the ladies. Another introduction had, of course, to be gone through, and then Tom asked the young gentlemen what was their hurry — couldn*t they stay and have a Nt of dinner? To which Messrs. Brown and Green responded that they would with pleasure, only they had made an •f party a " surprise party" is. This we can do in brief by •tating that a surprise party is a surprise. Tlie guests arrange It all themselves — go uninvited ar-d (are supposed to be) un- expected, and take their supper with them. As far as we knovi It is cue of our " American institutions." TASTE VERSUS FASHION. 201 rief by arrange be) un- e know appointment with some friends to go down to Staten Ishind, and they guessed it was about time to he oft'. " Well ! you mustn't be strangers, now !" said Mrs. Gallagher, as they approached in turn to sliake hands Avith the mistress ot'the mansion; "you must come often and see us." " Much obliged to you, Mrs. Gallagher ! we'll 8top in some evening soon," pointing the ^-omise at the young ladies with their bewitchingly cxpres- give eyes — as Mag and Ellie called therp wlien the girls got a chance of discussii {; the visiw that aftor- noon. " Expressive indeed !" saidFamiy contcnptnously; '* I Uon t see the least bit of expression about them !** For some reason best known to hersfU* Fanny's admiration of the Green and Brown beaux had de- cidedly cooled down during the recent visit. " You don*t, eh ?" said Mag with a saucy laugh, winking at Ellie at the same time. " Well ! that u surprising — a'nt it, Ellie ?" " Very !" was Ellie's response ; " but it a*nt so surprising, after all, Mag, when I come to think of it. You know Fanny has a great partiality for the Irishy^* speaking with an air, " and as poor Mr. Green and Mr. Brown don't happen to be ' Hirish,* as the Englishman says, why, of cours?, they a*nt to her taste." " None of your impudence, miss !" said the elder sister, her cheek flaming with indignation ; " I ha'nt '7. >. : :ciM., ''■ *'■ r •:. -■"■.•'>i I*! 202 OLD AND NEW ; OR, «iny more likir j for * the Irish' than you have your, st'lf, and Pm not so hard up for beaux as your lady- Kliipa think !" " My ! Fanny, don't lose your temper about it !" said the provoking Mag; " don*t everybody know the only admirer you have is that vulgar red-haired McConoghy." "Don't dare to say that again!" cried Fanny, starting to her feet in a towering passion. " If ever i hear you mention McConoghy's name to me, I'll get ma to close the doors on Green and Brown ! I will! — so mind that! Indeed, I think it would be the best of her play, at any rate, not to encourage them to the house, for I think they're nothing else but a pair of mean scamps — do you hear that, now?" *' Sour grapes, Fanny !" said Ellie, whilst Mag put her spread fingers to her nose with that signifi- cant gesture commonly meant to express the phrase "Does your mother know you're out?" or some other equally elegant interrogatory of kindred meaning. Luckily for the peace of the house, a ring came to the door — a loud, full, sonorous ring, and the three amiable sisters hurried away to see who it was. W ho should it be but the veritable McConoghy himself, to the infinite amusement of Ellie and Mag, the great annoyance of Fanny, and the no less great satisfaction of their father, with whom this per- sonage was a particular favorite. They had been friends for years long; McConoghy had kept a small grocery near Centre Market; which busir ■ti. . . TASTR VFRSUS PASHTOW. 203 ness had been lately exchanged for a clerkship in a wholesale store down town, which, if it did not pay (jiiite so well, was, at least, more stylish, and that WM a great object with a fresh, florid, good-looking widower of forty, " without chick or child" to im- pede any matrimonial speculations into which Mr. McConoghy might be disposed to enter. A brainless, good-humored, good-natured fellow was the ex-grocer, and as he lofed his pipe anil his glass — both, however, in moderation — and once in a while cracked a joke — just such a broad hearty joke as Tom could relish — why, it followed as a natural consequence, that Tom Gallagher relished his society above that of all others, and always wel- comed his appearance with unbounded cordiality. Nothing was more natural, under such circum- Ktances, than that John McConoghy should begin to raise his eyes to one or other of his friends* daughters, and he did raise them with a vengeance, for they settled on Fanny, the tallest, the most im- posing, and withal the oldest of the five un wedded Miss Gallaghers. His audacity was reprobated in the strongest terms by the fair object thereof — less strongly by her prudent mother, who admitted him to be " a rising man, and a pushing man, too," and, therefore, "not to be sneezed at;" whilst by the younger pislers it was not reprobated at all, for Fanny was wont to put on airs of superiority that were less than agreeable to the juniors, and those young ladies were " tickled to death," as they confi- . << V iH. -v. <;.,.. vl ■ .■/ J* * .' ";.■ -''I 1 /i >;■' *,*■'. r •,. •.; \ ^ 'V^.'t'''} ''. ■>^' 4 ■ '' « >. .1'' '., -■ I*' ni 1-, ,. cTiid';''.!. ■ J '1. C "1.1 ,.' '-> t 1M .'•i : ■■■^ '. « ■ it ' ♦ * K \/. .■*■ "•i ■n ■ K \ ■1 504 OLD AND NEW ; OR, flentially admitted, at the thoughts of Fanny havinj^ McConoghy for a beau — or a would-be beau, which was all the same. Her slight appreciation of Green and Brown had provoked two of them, at least, be- yond endurance, and they charitably determined to *' let her have tit for tat, and give her enough of McConoghy, anyhow !" Leaving Tom Gallagher and his jovial guest to their afternoon pipe with what other creature-com- forts might be dispensed to them ; and leaving also Misses EUie and Mag to amuse themselves, accord- ing to promise, with Fanny and her unlucky Irish suitor, we will "just pop in" after the manner of that pink of politeness, Paul Pry, to pay a too- long deferred visit to the Hackett family next door. The.,three sisters and Michael had just got home from Vespers. Now it must not be supposed that Michael had enjoyed the honor of escorting his sisters to Church. N"o such thing ; they had made a long detour through various streets and squares which they need not have traversed had they not felt the urgent necessity of showing off three new dresses, and as many new bonnets — (I beg par- don, hats ! the word bonnet is but little known in American parlance) — together with other accompa- nyivig items of a fashionable Spring costume. Michael, on the contrary, had jogged along church ward beside his father " in sober gray bedight,'* till, having reached the family-pew just as Vespers commenced, they quietly took possession. Id this TASTE VERSUS FASR ON". 205 possession they remained undisturbed till the glo« rious Magnificat was pealing through the Church, when the three sisters, like CcEur de Lion and his knights at Fontevrault, " came sweeping up the aisle," and stood at the pew-door till their male relatives stepped out to give them admission. Etiquette required they should get inside, but that measure being ea^tier conceived than executed, the father and son were forced to transfer themselves to the floor of the aisle, very much against their will, till the three belles had passed in, at that fashionably- late period of the Evening Service of the Church. Vespers and Benediction being over, Henry Hackett betook himself, in company with one or two old acquaintances, to the fashionable locality of Murray Hill and Madisim Avenue to enjoy at the same time the lovely Spring evening and a so- cial chat about things past and present — chiefly the former, where it lay smiling far behind and far away in that merry time and that lovely land where " a* the ''hree" had been amongst the stoutest and lithest hurlers on Tipperary ground. Michael went home to resume the adventures of certain prairie- hunters whose hair-breadth escapes by flcod and field had greater charms for him than even the freshness and verdure of Madison Park, much as he loTed Daaie Nature's garb of vernal beauty. He was not long left to the quiet enjoyment of his book, for his siuters soon made their appearance, and ■ i.i i^- » 5 , » ■ I :'-» . , ; k f -■.■'■i>V,.'j'J .fr, * • ./ ..." f . -11 '• gi'-iiiiiirr' '■ay ;•> %■ -J 3; , -! I'll •I/,- V... Tj' iX:. 'r;i < ■A > • ■1-1 ji^'o 1*. ^1 «,^ 206 OLD AND NEW ; OB, Btationed themselves, as usual; at the windows, to take cognizance of the passers-by, what they wore, and otl>er notable circumstances therewith con- nected. In the prosecution of this profitable work they chanced to espy the red-haired aspirant to Fanny Gallagher's hand making his entree at No. 66, and being fully aware of the gentleman's identity, they marvelled much that the Gallaghers would have anything to do with such a mean fellow, and a rough Irishman withal. " What in the world brings him there of all peo- ple ?" questioned Sarah Eugenia ; " I'm sure it was well worth their while to set up such a splendid turn-out if that's the kind of company they're going to keep !" "But I tell you there's some real nice people go in there," said Ann Wilhelmina with an emphatic nod ; " weren't those two nice young gentlemen, Mary, that we saw going in just after Mass-time ? " Mary was equally impressed with the niceness of the young gentlemen. "But, my goodness! where was / then," said Sarah eagerly, " that I didn't see them ? — what did they look like ?" " Ha ! ha ! you missed that^ Sarah !" Ann replied laughing. " Well ! I can tell you they were worth seeing; they were really elegant-looking fellows, regular Americans, with moustaches and dark eyes " "•'■Ti.^^Tffl^ltf* f'-^i TASTE VERSUS F^SniOH. 207 "Both dark eyes?" Sarah had a weakness lor dark eyes and dark faces. ** Yes, I think they had — both of them — and my how nice thek* hair looked, and their collars so nicely turned down, and their neck-ties so elegant — oh dear! they were such nice fellows!" and Ann Wilhelmina heaved a gentle sigh as she added in a languishing tone : " No fear that any such w'll call at 68--poor shabby little 68 !" " Who on earth could they be ?" " Dear knows ! but one thing is certain, they muU be distinguished !" •' Yes !" said Michael, " and so they are — ahem 1" " Why, Michael ! did you see them ?" Michael nodded ; his sisters were round him in a moment. " Won't you tell us, then, who they are ? — do now, that's a good fellow." " Guess, and I will." Various suppositions were advanced by the sis- ters, one wilder and more extravagant than another. " Perhaps they're officers in the navy ?" " Guess again." " In the army ?" " The chaps / saw weren't officers of any kind,* coolly said Michael, " so try something else.* "Perhaps they're lawyers?" " No." " Government-clerks V VV/V t'. '. . ' ,.• » " ■.'. '• .> , ■;■■ i^} r ■., •- ■ ■ ■' '.J J-, •» > I '■'■%: "■ ft- . *. > ' . K i y»y 3 #»i ■• .1- , ■• '•■ r- oz:^f. ijif' .- • '.'■■ ( ■. ■ 'K J.' -, f I . ■ 208 OLD AND NEW ; OR, " No — guess again." " We'll guess no more — we give it up ! — but stay —perhaps they're clerks in stores ?" " You're getting nearer it now^lo you give h up ?'» " Yes ! yes I" • ' Whatever was Michael's answer, a burst of ex- alting merriment followed, and the sisters laughed till the tears ran down their cheeks. *' Now, are you sure that that's what they are, Michael?" demanded Sarah as soon as she could speak. I - " Are you sure you're lying on that sofa ?" " Well ! if that a'nt the best thing I've heard for a long time ! I'm as glad as if somebody put a hundred-dollar bill in my hand. Only think, girls ! how mortified they'll be when they come to find it out, for you may be sure they take them for some- thing great 1 But hush ! here's pa ! — not a word of it to him I" TASTE VERSUS FASHION. 209 '^^^" ''■■■■'■■•♦■. CHAPTER XT. HARP-STRINGS AND HEART-STRINQ8. A FEW evenings after their first visit to Rheinfeldt House, Major Montague and Captain Bellew found themselves again in the pleasant drawing-room of that old mansion, in company with Mr. Murray, his son and daughter. As the two gentlemen walked up the short avenue together Montagne said to his friend : " Mind, Bellew ! no slips of the tongue — we are all strangers now — perhaps ever shall be !" — *' Ne craignez pas, mon ami !*' responded Bellew just as the door opened. " No mon-amee live here," said Jan, and he was about to close the df)or in their face. He had caught the captain's last words, and misunderstood th«ir import. " Madam Von Wiegel does, though,'' said Bellew, and laughing heartily the two friends entered the hall. " Va-ry pleasant gentlemans, on mine word 1" said Jan complacently as he ushered them up stairs, iiaving by this time recognized them as the English ofllcers who had lunched with the ladies some days before. Well-bred persons of either sex are never long in making an acquaintance, and although Mr. Murray * V if!' •• . , . K>-:i''^'-At t''p . , <' j: ■.■■: '.«'■*" I if^S 5 ;^l!•'r.^^ V.'' .^TLi^^'^ WW pp ^*:! .?.* w ■ . '■■''i'j-j' '■"' ' 210 OLD AND NEW ; OR, did oontract his eyebrows and look rather coldly on "the liveried servants of Queen Victoria" when they were introduced to him — for Randal Mur- ray had, truth to tell, an out-and-out dis- like of everything British — (except roast beef and plum pudding) — still the new-comers were scarcely half an hour in the room when — British officers though they were — the old gentleman was quite at home with them; especially the captain, whose genial disposition was so much akin to his own that it thawed the ice immediately. The captain knew Dublin well, moreover, had been stationed at the Portobello Barracks, and could describe every re- markable scene around the Irish metropolis from Howth to Phoenix Park, and from Harold's Cross to Cullen*s Wood. He had climbed to the top of Nelson's Pillar, and, a greater feat still, danced '' a Donnybrook jig" with the prettiest girl at the fair. high " I wouldn't doubt you," said Randal in appreciation of the captain's good humor, " but you didn't venture to make too free, did you ?" he added with sly meaning. " A very little," said the captain in the same tone ; "I would fain have saluted her in my own way as T handed her back to the bosom of an admiring crowd, I suppose of relations " "Well?" - ' " Well I got slapped for my pains, that's all, and told to have manners, sir," and the captain mim- icked the pretty brogue of the Donnybrook belle to TASTE VER3US FASHION. 211 euch perfection that the gentkmen all laughed, and the ladies all smiled. Randal Murray rubbed his hands and laughed immoderately. " Good for you, captain ! good foi you 1 — that was a touch, you know, of " ——^— the wild sweet-briftry fence, Which round the flowers of Erin dwells——" " Precisely,-' said the captain, finishing the verse. " That warns the touch, while winning the sense, Nor charms us least when it most repels." In this strain the two ran on with the easiest and most delightful familiarity, much to the amuse- ment of Madam Von Wiegel and Alice who were deeply interested listeners. Robert and Bertha were discussing the merits of a popular lecturer whom they had been to hear on the previous even- ing, whilst Major Montague turned over the leaves of a sketch-book at a table near them. Bellew's quick ear caught tlie subject under dis- cussion between Robert and Bertha, and he called out : ^^ Apropos to your subject, Lieutenant Murray ! this lecturing business seems to be an established insti- tution here." " Decidedly, captain ! and a famous institution I take it to be." " As how V" " Why, for the diffusion of usntul knowledge, t« be sure." . . " And the diffusers of such knowledge ?" • ►, •. vV;,; ,1 • '/'... ■ .V > , . «■'•«»'' ■•■. f '/ ' ■ ■ • - ■ I . ■ -y •■ ■"^^Yv• ■ '■ '■ . '*,■ >■ >'f. •". ; ':■ V. r m ■■"■• . , f • . '*'■■■■ ''^1 I? . > ■■ '"' ..:•■' :-i-. J , ,< i^ 213 OLD ANT) NEW ; OR, " Oh ! that is — as it may be," said Robert laugh* ing ; " we are not particular as to qualifications." " It appears not, indeed. Major Montague and I were much amused to-day by an advertisement wo saw in one of the morning papers, to the effect that Hardman E. W. R. White, a colored gentleman, lately escaped from slavery in that State whereto Susanna's dusky Troubadour was going 'with his banjo on his knee,' will lecture this evening in the Tabernaclo — public specially invited to attend, on charitable grounds, as Mr. White is lecturing to raise fundB to educate himself. Now on what do you suppose will this alphabetically-great colored indi- vidual hold forth for public enlightenment ?" " Oh ! on abolitionism, of course — and a capital audience he'll have, too — I can tell you that ! He's a keen shaver, depend on it, for that advertisement of his Avill draw more than the well-earned fame of the first orator in the land. We're a great people, you know. Captain Bellew 1 and have great ears of our own " > " For which auricular appendages our British na turalists give you full credit as a nation," said the captain with fily emphasis. "Ha- ha! Bob — how do you like that?" cried his father ; ''' I say there's a tap of the lion's paw for you." " Never mind, father !" said Robert with a gay laugh, " the royal beast will not always have the hiugh on his side. He may catch a Tartar some day f-* TASTE VERSUS FASHION. 218 in this direction, and that when he least expects it. If John Bull gives Brother Jonathan credit for long earx, he may chance to find that he has a long heaei with a reasonable share of brains in it." The laugh that followed was heartily joined in by the good-humored captain, who being called upon by Randal to admit that Bob had given " a Rowland for bis Oliver,*' freely admitted the fact, with the fur- ther possibility that Jonathan's cranium might con- tain a certain quantum of the organic matter indi- cated by the lieutenant. " What says your friend ?" asked the old gentle- man abruptly. " Friend, what sayest thou ?" demanded the merry captain, turning quickly, not sorry, it would seem, to send an inquiring glance in that direction. " I rather think Major Montague has not been honoring ns with his attention," said Robert drily. " Pardon me, sir," said Montague, with the slight- est possible tinge of irony in his tone, " I happen to be of that commendable class of persons whose 'ears are ever open to the words of wisdom'— I, therefore, heard you perfectly — I am not prepared, however, to give an opinion on so grave a subject." And without raising his eyes he placed the drawing- book before Bertha, pointing to a faintly-traced scene he had been sketching, as if half unconsciously, on a blank leaf. - The blood rushed to the young lady's cheek ; she loroked Up at bis faoe-— it was turned towards tljc i '?.''* Ill - •'I 5 ;t' ">. . « '■ •■? m?-:M vt I i- \ 5 ■ ■■ ■ m^y. '■'■'2y'^ * ' -. \->- ■ ■ ■•' ' . ' '■■■:'' -X-^-. ■ Vv ' •■ ■,t*', '■-'■j:f: ''.J , H : 214 OLD AND NEW ; OR, company with a calm cold smile on his haughty lip that sent the blood back to her heart. There was nothing in the major's speech that young Murray could resent, and he was sorry for it, fur he felt as though he would like, of all things, to hear something from Don Bellianus, as he called him, that he could take as an affront. " Ahem !" said the old gentleman, tapping his snuff-box with unwonted energy and determination. " Ahem !" he repeated louder, then handed the rap- pee to Madam Von Wtegel acid Captain Bellew, not forgetting Alice, who smiled sweetly at his absence of mind and said : " Thanks, father ! you know I have not yet learned that accomplishment." She was watching Bertha's face in a mirror opposite, and her own pale cheek grew crimson red as she saw its pallid hue. - Bellew, feeling the silence a little awkward, hast- ened to start a fresh topic. , " My dear Mr. Murray ! that is capital snuff of yours -almost equal to old Lundy Foot's. You re- member that, do you ?" " Kem'^raber it, captain ! why, bless my soul ! of course I do, just as well as I remember ' Kinahaii's Malt.' Though, to tell the truth, my palate knew about as much of the qualities of one as my olfac- tory nerve did of the other, and that wasn't much, I assure you ! But it does an old man good, Cap- tain Bellew ! to hear the sound of names that were once familiar to his ear. To hear you now Bpeaking mm TASTE VEBgrs rASHTON. 215 \n your full rich Leinster voice of things and places that my boyhood knew so well, I can almost <" '■ pnrsuade myself that I am not old, And my locks are not jet gray.' " " Well ! well !" he added cheerfully, " it's a pit> youth can't last forever — but, after all, I'm not so old but I can enjoy life yet — what think you. Madam Von Wiegel ?" " You will never be so old as that, Mr. Murray," said the old lady, turning her eyes from Monta- gue's face, hich she had been scrutinizing with a sort of dreamy curiosity, as though it were associ- ated with some vague and half-forgotten memories — " I should be sorry to see you if you were; it is a dreary stage of existence when the heart has grown cold, and outlived its joys and pleasures." "From such a state," said the captain, "angela and ministers of grace defend us ! — better die in youth on the tented field, and fill a soldier's grave." "With the tears of one toe know to bedew the Bod," whispered Bertha, as she passed him and glided from the room. She had not even bent her head, and no one but himself caught the word. Its effect, however, was like magic, and the gay, laughing face of Bellew was instantly overcast, and the blood rushed to his very temples. He started and looked up, but Bertha was gone, and his eyes involuntarily turned on his friend, who was watching h'nc v ith a look of arch intelligence that did not tend to lessen his bmbarrasement. v , , i' . ' >, . • • 1 >■■ *. . '• *• i ..• ..-„ ." .-^ J „' ■[ -,■"!■.•■••«.♦. ■■ ,■'' ■■■« V ■ M'i 216 OLD AND NEW ; OB, Luckily Madam Von Wiegel came to the rescue, though all unconsciously to herself, by proposing cards, and invited the captain to be hei partner lor a rubber at whist ; the offer was gladly accepted ; the major took Alice for his partner, and the game commenced. " But what is Mr. Murray to do ?" said Madam Von Wiegel. " Oh, never mind me. I'll look on till Bertha comes, then we'll have a game of chess. By the bye, Robert, will you go like a good and dutiful son, and a gallant squire of dames, as I know you are, and seek my fair opponent that is to be ?" " Certainly, sir," said Robert, starting from the lounge, whereon he had been reclining in moody thought. " I'll have her here in five minutes if she be above ground. Were I to bring her ia chains, she shall come." " Ay ! such chains," cried Bellew laughing, " ai those which James Fitz-James * flung o'er the neck' of Malcolm Grame when " ' He gently drew the glittering band And laid the clasp in Ellen's hand.' " "Pri*thee, silence!" said Robert in the same humor- ous strain, looking back from the door, " thy wordi are mayhap of deeper meaning than befits the shal- lowneas of mine understanding. Farewell ! may ?uck attend you I" " Et vous, aussi, mon brave !" called tho captain after hiui, '^ je vous souhait*^;^ * . ■& ■mi '■4A ^ ■*' At' . 218 OLD AND NEW : OR. vS^I 4'' ••*.„ " I know he was kind enough to do so, sir," said Bertha taking her seat near Alice, " but I left hiui in the library answering a note he has just received." " A note I what note ?" asked the easily-alarmed fatlier. " He will tell you that himself, sir I I have no right to speak of its contents." " Humph I" said Mr. Murray lapsing into thought- fulne^B, " Humph I — ah ! — well ! — no matter" — com- pressing his lips very tightly as he dealt the cards, " I dare say it is of no consequence. An honor, by ray word I Bertha, my dear I is your harp unstrung, or has music lost its charms, or how is it ? Let me see — why I protest I have not heard you play — or sing — since we got back." " I'm afraid, Mr. Murray ! ' the music's gone up to the moon,'" said Bertha with a faint smile, "or some- where else beyond the control of my fingers." " Pooh I pooh I ' call a spirit from the vasty deep !' to bring it back again." "Do play something I" whispered Alice, "I long to hear your harp again." "Are you fond of music, Captain "Bellew?" said Bertha rising. " Oh very 1 and the harp is my favorite instrument. I am quite of the opinion of Moore that, above all others, it breathes ' the soul of music' " " And the soul of music is the breath of life," added Madam Von Wiegel." "And the key of memory," said Miyor Montague TASTE VERSUS FASHION. 219 Bpeaking for the first time. Bertha looked at him, but his eyes wtre fixed on the cards in his hand, and his face was as a sealed book, cold and calm as the ApoUo-Belvidere's. Just then Robert Murray entered the room, and in answer to his father's eager inquiry said he had received a note from one of his broiher ofticers ap- prising him that they were under orders to join their regiment within the week. '* Bad news, Bob, bad news !" said the old gentle- man ; Alice changed color and drew a long breath. " You forget, my dear sir," said Bellew smiling, " that your country's sword is where Cowper de- scribes Admiral Kempenfeldt's when he went down in the Roijal George — " ' His sword wras in the sheath, His fingers held the pen, When Kempeiifeldt went down With twice four hundred men.' It is only to drill your son is going, not to fight^^ " Well ! there is comfort in that," said the old gentleman laughing, but what more he intended to say was cut short by the sound of Bertha's harp, as she swept the strings in a graceful prelude. "What shall I play, mother?" she asked, turning half round, but without waiting for an answer she commenced " Lochaber." The card-table was instantly deserted, and Mr. Murray ensconced himself in an arm-chair near the fire, rubbing his hands as usual when well pleased, ■■' .v^P ,vi.^r.'. •v ^-ft^S^^ft: 12 1! 'V'*'f. . : r 220 ■rm OLD AND NEW ; OR, and crying " That's for yon, Robert I that's for you, my lad !*' The melting tenderness of the air had softened every heart, and young Murray, lying on a distant Bofa, covered his face with one hand to hide the trickling tears, of which he was ashamed. "Why not play 'The Girl I Left Behind Me?'" said a voice near Bertha, it was that of Montague, and he spoke with an emphasis half ironical, halt' contemptuous. Without answering, Bertha glided at once into " I'd Mourn the Hopes that Leave Me," and she saw a smile curling the haughty lip of her nearest auditor, where he had thrown himself on the divan near her with his back to the company. Having played some light and beautiful variations, Bertha paused. " The third is the charm," said Montague care- lessly ; there was a tremor in his voice, however, that only one ear caught — and it set one heart a-beating. But Bertha, without appearing to notice the words, turned to th( others, and saying " I will sing you an old— a very old song," played a plaintive sym- phony, and then sang in a voice of thrilling sweetness. " Mary, I believed thee true, And I was bless'd in thus believing, But now I mourn that e'er I knew A girl so fair and so deceiving." Brcakine off suddenly, hotvever, she changed the H > A.V ' ■ TASTE msw j^sHION, ,,, sccompaniment, and aftpr o on in a different n>eas„r;: " """"^''^ thought «en, ' '""'Z''T,"'"""'''°""^'>T years But Oh U„„,e years were ,™"bt "The ,'""""""'' '""^^bougt"' Mo.'tague, whose'v^:;!;,. .^f™g '" '"""^ « ear in^atbrillia„„h,.,p^; "«''«■ 'heless, ^'''hed her -•.ng to a.::;"" ''"" "'•^ *''<"•'•» -een that you .^--^"^at C.::^' Sh- I-'n^ ^'" «^e -io. '"?• " You want " R^ie b1 ""' ^"^ ^'""^ *^«'- M""ay will (i^,,, ;'" « B,uann,a'_,.ell( Mis, "»•> i" her tastes, Tass! 1 7''^ " <»""<' E„g. '^on't you oblige Maior Silf °" •^''<'«' "X dear" the Queen,' or -.he BrtSh «!'""%""" ' '^"'^ ^ave %od Susan f " ^ Grenadiers,' or ' Black- What was there in th;„ jj . -de Montague s-: is j:-^/-f'.^n,e. that ;^ "as the feeling soon p^ "f '' ' ^J-^tever S ^"•■""- -^ -". ^-e tsf^eS^rX:- ^;l'he1Stt?Sl.*;J-;^^•■™.'-usie, Wiegel, r ,„„3t p,ol' '.' '''" '•'''"'y. Miss V„„ ""-de on my beha t' 1 L"^!:^.' f"'' <"">'- of airs •0 antiquated as you ^ouTdTa '""^ " ""' <"■"• ^ """''' Mve your friend bo ,.■■." .-"Vli'..,- , ■':'■ I' r , .^ ,:; ' (• 5»C'J'^^^ ■•# ■« .. '-31 i A- "41 Jn fi; >ih^. % /'#'**■ c'f .' '■ ■■ ' I'.- )'■■•■', ■' 5' et. i'S-l 'j^'t^M; " 1 ■■ t ■ ' ■ . . Vi .-4 122 OLD AND NEW ; OR, lieve. Permit me to lead you to the harp, Misi Murray !" " I am sorry I cannot oblige yon, Major Monta gue," said Alice, " but I do not play the harp.'' "You play the guitar, though," said Bertha, anxious that her gentle friend should display some of her many accomplishments, " and the piano like an artist ! Let us have my old favorite, the Druid's choruB in Norma, and Robert and I wiil sing it with you ? Come, Robert ! it may be long before wo three blend our voices again!" There was sadness in her tone, and young Mur- ray's fhce was flushed with joy as he took his place beside her at the piano, where Alice was already seated. The old gentleman nodded at Madam Von Wiegel with the brightest of smiles, and then taking a seat beside her on the sofa, he paid in a whisper loud enough to reach the ears of the two strangers ■ " Oh ! sure a pair was never seen So justly form'd to meet, by nature- The youth excelling so in mien, The maid in every graceful feature !" For some reason Bellew looked anxiously at his friend, but the major was, or seemed to be, engrossed with the picture on the wall opposite. It was that of Madam Von Wiegel's only remaining brother, the uncle Gerald of whom Bertha so often spoke. There was a softened expression in his eyes and on his whole face that even his friend had seldom seen there. Just at thiM moment Bertha turned, and she ^m TASTE VERSUS FASHION. 223 ■■•'*: too, caught the expression on Montague's face, and following the direction of his earnest gaze, her own heart swelled, and the tears sprang to her eyes. Bellew saw this though his friend did not, or at least appeared as though he did not. " Montague !" said he laying his hand lightly on his arm. The kind, soothing voice broke the spell, and the major starting, looked around with surprise as though half forgetting where he was. " You are not in Castle Mahon, my friend !" said Bellew in a tone of commiseration ; " we are far enough away from the old towers to-night, and uncle Gerald is not here to throw oil on the troubled waters." The chorus commenced, and whatever might have been the secret feelings of the two officers, their musical taste was too highly cultivated not to lose all other sensations for the moment in the exquisite pleasure of hearing ; the beautiful conception of Bel- lini's genius was so chastely and effectively rendered that " Breathless silence chain'd the lips and hush'd the hearts of all." Just as the last cadence died away, Jan threw open the door and announced supper. Mr. Murray offered his arm instanter to Madam Von Wiejrel ; Captain Bellew made his bow to Alice, and Robert was not slow in drawing Bertha's arm within his. " By Jove, Montague, that is a bad omen !" said H . I' ', » v<-. ;<^'»rv*:j^ '■ '. "''I- • 1 t it '■'■■I is . . ' ■ : ,. r \ ■ : ■y 19 ,«l ''\!ff. ' ' ;i>' .:■ iS24 OLD AND NEW ; OR, 1 . Bellew laugliing ; " consigned to single blessedness you are unmistakeably !" " N'importe, raon cher Gerald ! mon jour viendra' march on ! I follow !'* Conversation flowed freely during supper, ana the peculiarities of the different characters gave piquant zest to the entertainment; though all of refined tastes and polished manners, easy, affable and agreeable, there were many shades of difference between the deep, calm earnestness inherited by Bertha from her German ancestors, the lofty intel- lectual superiority expressed in every word and every look of Montague's, and the half boyish, half- soldierly, but most agreeable play of Robert's sprightly humor. Captain Bellew was a host in himself; with his bright genial humor, ample store of anecdotes, and imperturbable good temper, he was one of the best of table-companions, and con- tributed more than a share to the evening's enjoy- ment. Montague, though he spoke comparatively little, unbent just so far as to make himself agreea- ble, and give some occasional glimpses of the trea- sures with which his mind was stored. He was evidently a man who had seen much, read much and thought more. If feelings or passions he had they were so perfectly under control that it was hard to say whether the courtly repose of his manner was real or artificial. At times, however, he would condescend, as it were, to open the dark lanthorn in which he chose to conceal the brightness of bis &^f^:i >.. TASTE VERSUS FASHION. 2911 Intelligence, and a warm glow fell for the moment on each one present. Few words had passed directly between Mon tague and Bertha, though they sat directly opposite each other. When supper was almost over, how- ever, the major suddenly said : " The pleasure of wine with you, Miss Von Wiegel." The lady as- sented, and when they came to bow to each other, he looked her steadily in the face a moment, and then said in a tone half jest, half earnest : "To the ghosts of buried years — the Druid shapes of memory's grove !" Bertha raised the glass to her lips, but her hand trembled so that she was forced to set it down, its contents still untasted. Seeing, however, that her emotion was attracting attention, she rallied her composure by one of those efforts which few can make successftilly, and taking up the glass, said with a smile that was wan as a wintry sunbeam, " I pledge you. Major Montague, with the further jiudition : 'What lies beneath the waters of Ivethe.' " "And is seen, nevertheless,'* he returned with a smile of strange meaning, " like those towers of Lough Neagh by poets sung, " ' When the clear cold eve's doclining,' or the lady-moon shedding memory's own light on the lone midnight hour and earth's hushed repose.'* The listeners were all surprised, none more so than Madam Von Wiegel, who could by no means ■^ -.■•*i :: ;?i i - 4 . :r>KiiS>|^' a^' .: 226 OLD AND NEW ; OR, ;•> ■ > ' «r.; ..-5 ■ understand the singular turn which her daughter and the major had given to the conversation. The old gentleman cleared his throat several times as though he were meditating a vocal attempt; Alice looked grave ; Bellew raised his glass, much interested, it would seem, in watching the sparlling liquid within as it glanced in the yellow gas-light. Robert sat uneasily in his chair, biting his lips and playing with the spoon in the glass before him, the emotions of his mind passing in quick succession over his speaking face. Trifling as the incident was, it seemed to have thrown a damp on the spirits of each, and Madam Von Wiegel very soon after arose, to the evident re- lief of the company, who were all, for different rea- sons, glad to return to the drawing-room. " Cowled Druids, indeed ! — ghosts of buried years, forsooth !" grumbled Robert in Bertha's hearinor as they walked up stairs together ; " I be- lieve he's one of them himself revisiting the glimpses of the moon !* — deuce take him for an autocrat, what business has he here ?" An hour later, and Madam Von Wiegel and her daughter, their night prayers over, were seated to- gether by the fire in the old lady's dressing room ; Bertha's eyes were fixed abstractedly on the fan- tastic shapes of the blazing coals in the grate, her mother's on her face, with a troubled and anxious look. • ,::■'■.■ ' • ' • " Bertha," said she at last, " who it this Major f. 1 I ' « 1 1. liv'.i TASTK VERSUS FASHION. 221 Montague ? There is something in his features that recall old times to me, though I know not that I ever saw Hm before — but, Bertha! my child! ijou did — and I feel it my duty to ask who and what lie is ?" The young lady started, and turned pale, then blushed deeply, then turned and looked into her mother's eyes, and, as if moved by the unut- terable love she saw there, she threw her arms around her neck, and laying her heard on her shoulder, murmured : " Yes, mother, dearest and best of mothers 1 you shall know all that I know of Edgar Montague, whose face may well be familiar to you. He is the second son of one you cannot but remember — Lord Dunmore.^^ " Ha ! that accounts for It," said Madam Von Wiegel in a tremulous voice. " Well, my child I it is wearing late — to-morrow you shall tell me all 1" r * ■ ■- ■*•■ "■ * I ^^^)-^ft*- -■. ;^• .' .w % -4l - '1 m ; .mrn-. ■ .:-^'-f .! ' ■ A ■.A 228 OLD AND NEW ; IR, CHAPTER XII. 4*1 ' i ' 1 • « .1 :• ' 'H^ . ■,l ■ ' '' IMS 1 §^ m Ui ' l-K a: " - \ ■ ■*, ,-,A '^f ; v«. / ■'* 1 » «i ' • i '. '. 'Si i ■ >■■/ it' . ,- 1 si |t kM& ADVKUSITY IS NOT ALWAYS MISFORTUNE. Messrs. Green and Brown were not slow to im- prove the opportunity offered them by Mrs. Gal- lagher's extra civility, and the impression they had evidently ifiade on Misses Ellie and Mag. Their visits became longer and more familiar from week to week, for it was only once a week they came, and always together. They had taken the girls — all but Fanny, who declined going — to Niblo's Gardens, and Laura Keene's, and once to the Opera, where the young ladies appeared in full dress in one of the front boxes — with the two exquisitely-dressed beaux in obsequious attendance. Mrs. Gallagher had been, morever, persuaded (easily enough to say the truth) to give a grand party in honor of Mr. Green and Mr. Brown — Fanny's protest against it notwith- standing — but, as ill luck would have it, Tom insisted on having his friend, McConoghy, at the party, and, worse still, Atty Garr&il ! As for Atty his presence was not very notlrt able, for the poor fellow being overpowered by the show and glitter of the gay company, and the sw^aggering assurance which passed current amongst them for ease, kept himself mod«tly in a corner, or behind a door all the even- ing, except when Tom, to his great relief, beckoned TASTE VERSUS FASniOK. 229 neven* him out once in a while to refresh his inner man with himself and McConoghy and one or two others, amongst whom was Mr. William II. Fogarty, whoso genial qualities were still in him for the drawing out, keen and dry as business had made him. As for " the favored guests" of the " lighted hall," (». e. parlor,) the colored lamps who gave Green and Brown light to that evening's festivity, Tom would have nothing to do with them, more than bare civility; they were a pair of chaps, as he told McConoghy and Atty in confidence, " that he didn't care much about, and let them be who or what they might — and not a know himself knew who they were — they were nothing else but a pair of skip- jacks." " If I had my way," Tom added, " I'd Boon show them the door, but Mrs. Gallagher and the girls thinks there's nobody like them, and if I as much as looked crooked at them I'd have neither peace nor quietness for many*s the long day. I never seen anything like the notions these women get into their heads now-adays. Sometimes I think there's none as foolish as my own, but then again when I look round me and see the way other people's wives and daughters go on I think I'm no w^orse off than rny aeighbors aXter all. Now there's one thing that vexes me maybe more than anything else- -the notion they have that everything Irish is low and vulgar, as they say themselves, and nothing's right, or nobody's worth knowing that isn't rale American, or doesn't look American-like. Go nc 'ii 1 ^ •'?' W -it'' - •• ;■' •^': I , ■: '/ ■'. i r*, 1 -'.^h »^- f' ;., -. 1 • ^: * 230 OLD AND NEW ; OR, farther than Green and Brown yonder — now thoy don't know a thing about them — not a thing, but just because they don't look Irish, and dress in style, and put on plenty of airs, they're the darlings all out, and Ellen and the girls won't hear a word against them — not a word. So that's the way it ia here !" " And many other places besides here," said Mr Fogarty, who was smoking a cigar, sending out a long puff between his teeth, and looking thought- fully after the wreath of smoke as though wonder- ing what it was going to do with itself now that it was fairly on the world ; " you're not alone, Mr. Gallagher! J can tell you that! — it's the fashion here in New York, you see, for ladies to turn up their noses at everything Irish, and the consequence is that the gents are not Irish — whether they came from Ireland, or had Irish parents, or however it may be, there a'nt one of them will own' to b»/ Irish himself Sometimes, it is true, their speech betrays them, and it's laughable enough to hear them doing the Yankee with a good strong dash of the Munster or Connaught brogue on their tongue. It alw^ays puts mc in mind of a caricature I saw in Punch onye — a starched-up English lady who had advertised in the Times for a cook, with the usua, intimation ' No Irish need apply,' was represented in colloquy with a fat woman whf>se face, of the broadest and coarsest, was unmistakeably Irish of the lowest type — the lady questions her as to her .,«(; TASTE VERSUS FASHION. *23) country, adding her fear that she is Irish, whereupon the other looks at her sideways, throwing her head bfick, and exclaims with an air of injured innocence, Augh 1 a'nt I Cornv/all, sure ?' I never hear man or woman that I know to be Irish, putting on ibreign airs or speaking in a way that isn't natural to them but I think of 'a'ut I Cornwall, sure?* and honest Susy." Tom laughed so heartily at Mr. Fogarty's joke that the cloud of discontent vanished from his brow, and all the world, not excepting Green and Brown, were taken again into his good graces, where they happily remained the rest of the evening. Not so McConoghy, who felt so annoyed at Miss Gallagher's contemptuous treatment of himself painfully con- trasted as it was by the smiles lavished on the two dandified young gentlemen by their respective dul- cineas, that his good nature was sorely tried, and he felt disposed more than once during that evening to cut the connection and betake himself and his pros- peci;S elsewhere. For prospects Mr. McConoghy had, and good prospects, too, as he said to himself vith unwonted bitterne-s. He had given such satis- faction to his employers whilst travelling for orders, that they were about to give him a share ir he business, and that whare once obtained, John McConoghy was on the high road to prosperity. He didn't see, therefore, why Miss Fanny should treat him as she did, and he all but came to the con- clusion that he would forthwith cast his line in '■■ ^ :■% ^A t t ■*;» ^■'l. ..1 -M a £32 OLD AND NEW ; OR, . ; •«. 1 ■• r >',u'^ f,^ ■tiiy another direction, and try some of the other "good fish" that, according to the ancient proverb, are al- ways " in the sea," as good "as ever wer^ cuugh.." It so happened that with his mind still running on this angling speculation, Mr. McConoghy strolled next evening into Henry Hackett's shop, where ho sometimes went to have a chat with Henry and his son. Being invited up stairs on this occasion after the shop was closed, he went nothing loth, perhaps expecting to see the three fair sisters usually to be found there; if so, he was disappointed, for the Miss Hacketts, finding out by some chance that he was in the store, and fearing that he miglit possibly be " asked up,*' had gone in to spend the evening with Julia Fogarty, having no desire for the company of an "ugly Irishman with such an odious name as McConoghy." Whether John might have been, or was at all disturbed by the absence of the young ladies, it is certain that the eveni^^g passed pleasantly, and long before the visitor took his leave a friendly con- fidence was established between himself and the Hacketts, father and son. John McConoghy had, in some measure, opened his heart, and if he did not exactly tell of his ambitious views or the "bright particular star" on which his hopes were placed, he gave sufficient indications of the state of his mind (or rather affections) to enable his companions, who were neither of them dull incomprehension, to give a pretty gdod guess as to " how the land lay." The TASTE VERSUS FASHION. 233 \ * t. W^- '■. ;*' *v' ■ >•• " '■\ ' A. two successful wooers of Mag and EUie, and prime flivorites of Mrs. Gallagher, were not forgotten, as may well be supposed, and McConoghy made it Biifliciently plain that, as far as his kindly nature permitted him to hate any one, he cordially hated them, or rather their absorption of tho good graces of his friend Tom*s " womankind." " And to crown all," concluded John, " they brought another chap with them to the party, last night — one of the same kidney, I'll be bound, what- ever that is, and between ourselves, Mr. Hackett ! I have no great opinion of any of them. But of course when I know nothing at all about thero, I can't say a word for fear I'd say what wasn't the truth. This new arrival was introduced as Mr. Sweetman, and Miss Fanny took to him like bird- lime, for no reason that I could see only the name he has. It is not much of a name, to my thinking, but any name will do for the young ladies here ex- cept an Irish name — a Mac or an O," he added with some bitterness. " jL' Oil never said a truer word than that, Mr. >? 'Cor < ghy," said Henry Hackett, "I see itr every day even jp these girls of mine, and though it grieves n^y heait to see it, I can't help it. Every* tiling Irish is low ai>d mean, everything that isn't Irish is genteel and elegant." "Mr. McConoghy," said Michael, suddenly look- ing up from an apple he was paring, "/ know some- ^•: ■''M ■ 1 -»■.. .'■ i-- ■:-'i',v .>« J^l .1 V 2a4 1,,' \ ■ -i 3 ■;, . -"»^ m .>«'< .■ ',' OLD AND NEW ; OR, thing that ytm don't know, and I'm sure you'd give a good many dollars to know it." " Why, w\iat can it be, Michael ?" asked the othei in surprise, while his father opened his eyes wide and looked at him. " I can't tell you now, Mr. McConoghy," said the precociously-grave Michael, " but I want you to do one thing for me and then I'll tell you." " And what is the thing, Michael ?" " Will you ^ k*' *he Gallaghers — I mean the ladies — to Taylor's ii \ some evening — the sooner the better? You know you can ask them out for a walk, and take them down Broadway, and then when you come to Taylor's ask them to have a plate of oysters or something." "Yes, yes, I could do that easy enough," said John, laughing heartily at what he called Mike's simplicity, "I tyou see, Mike, it's just like putting the grain of salt on the bird's tail to catch it. Them ladies wouldn't be seen in the street with poor John McConoghy for a mint of money, and I'm sure they'd almost bite the nose off* me, — or at any rate laugh in my face, if I made so free as to ask them out for a walk. You don't know them, Michael, as well as I do I" and the poor fellow sighed deeply. " Well ! do it as you will, you must do it,'* said Mike peremptorily. " But even if I could do it, what good would it do mef» TASTE VERSUS FASHION. 23^ " That's the secret," said Michael, " and I told you before you shouldn't hear it till you'd do my bidding. Will you, or will you not?" " I'd be glad to do it, Mike, if I only knew how But upon my word, I haven't the least idea of how to go about it. Unless Tom stood my friend," ho added musingly. " He loill stand your fViend,*' said Mike, " if you only tell him that a friend of yours and of his wanta the thing done — and tell him, besides, that if he'll get the ladies to go — even if you're not with them, though /'d sooner you were — he'll not be unthank- ful to himself for doing it. But don't bring in my name, Mr. McConoghy 1 for the ladies would never forgive me if they knew I'd be playing tricks on them, and that's just what I'm doing now, or mean to do, please goodness." " Well !'* said McConoghy rising to go, " I'll do as you tell me, anyhow, Michael, and if we fail why you can't blame me " " You'll not fail, I know you won't, and after the visit to Taylor's whether you^YQ with them or not — > come and put me in mind of the secret, and you'Jl hear it, never fear 1" " Very good, Michael, I'll get Tom to take the thing in hands, though it's very like going on a fool's errand, when I don't know myself what I'm about. No matter, it's all a joke, anyhow, and there can't come mud harm of it, one way or the 9ther. But upon ray credit, Michael, if it was tki r4_ :«,:k, ' 'If ■ ■"I '3m '''ill ^ ■ 1 ■r > > c *■■; . ;i ■ -.»-.} ■■l ■ . M 1 II ■/ ' •«, - .l :'*i 386 ;v:i^ ■*' •' .' ■ • ''■' \ A^. '. . ■ »/ ■ f * • .*:' H .• '^i !■■ .;.* •■1 1 . <; 1 ^iJ'^ ■ ■:■■>,'",,■■ t.i:' Rli'' ; 1 ,^,; OLD AND NEW ; OR, first of April I wouldn^t do 2^, for I know youVe n •ly customer. Good night, at any rate !" Hands were shook, and good-byes exchanged, and the three had descended to the little hall together, when in came the three young ladies. They were quite taken aback on meeting McConoghy face to face, and though each in turn honored him with the tips of her right-hand fingers, and a nod of icy con- descension, with a formal inquiry as to how he did, he felt nowise encouraged to prolong the conversa- tion, or turn the meeting to further account. The visitor being gone, and the family re-assem- bled in the little sitting-room above, the girls began to rate tb«'>i father for keeping such low company. " What in ihc world made you bring such a person here, pa ?'* inquired the eldest young lady with great earnestness. "I didn't bring him — he came^'' was the laconic answer. " Well, but just imagine, pa ! how it would be," said the middle young lady, " if it was daylight ! — what AFOuld the neighbors think to see such a big, coarse, vulgar-looking fellow going out from here ? Why my ! they'd have it all around that he was after lomeofusland '* " And I wish you may ever get the like of him, tky fine damsel !" interrupted her fiither angrily. ^ I can tell you there's little danger of his being .alter jiny oiyou ! — he's in a fair way of being independent Boon, and he wants a wife with money. >vhat ymi TASTE VERSUS FASHION. 237 haven*t to get. Besides, girls ! he wants a wife thai can take charge of a house, and make herself useful in it, and not be above her business. "You kno\f yourselves whether there's such a wife iie^re for him or any one else. Get the lamp, Michael ! till we go to bed." " What are you grinning at, you good-for-nothing monkey ?" exclaimed Sarah Eugenia, glad to find some excuse for venting the wrath which her father's words had kindled within her. " Wait till Tve more time, and I'll tell you !" said Michael looking over his shoulder as he left the room, *' but I'll take time now to tell you this, that father has more patience with you than Td have, if I was in his place." " God help them ! God help them !'* said the father compassionately as he took the way to his bed- room, " they're ill-fitted to wrestle with the world — as long as God leaves me over them they're all right, but what would become of them, poor things, if tliey had to shift for themselves I" The girls laughed derisively when their father was out of hearing. " I guess pa'd make a good preach- er!" said one. " No, he wouldn't," said another, " he's too prosy. But just to think of him having that nasty fellow, McConoghy, here — there would be no fear of him having any nice young man that people could look at. My ! a'lU it provoking ? I'm sure pa and be had soin^etking bct^vccn them— let pa say as be **.'«■ V- "■i : i. ^ '■''■ f- '- ■■' ♦. 1-' ^.! i>' 838 I*? !H*i i,, > ■■■■■■iay* !■ tM-.-".-"!.''. 1 OL y AND NEW ; OR, will — it a*nt for nothing he came to spend the even- ing ! Did you see that book I was reading ?" "What book?" " Why that Fatal Secret ! I hope pa didn't get his hands on it." "I shouldn't wonder if he had, for you left it here on the table this morning when you went out." " I don't think he saw it, though," said Mary Cle- mentina, " for I put it away." " That's a darling ! where did you put it ? I want to finish it to-night, for we've got to return it to- morrow, you know, to the Library, and you two have it finished, but /haven't." The book was placed in her hands by the younger sister, and, after mumbling over a few prayers, Sarah Eugenia half undressed herself, and, throwing a shawl over her shoulders, sat down at a small table near her bed to unweave by the light of ;i camphene lamp the mystic web which enwrapped the Fatal Secret. A Fatal Secret it was to the Hackett family ! That night, when the great city lay in hushed repose, the neighborhood was alarmed by the startling tinkle of the fire-bell from the next engine-house, and the cry of " Fire !'* echoing along the deserted streets People hurried from their beds, and ran to tlio windows to see where the fire was, and the sound of many feet was heard clattering on the flags; engine after engine swept along with lightning speed, each with its attendant train of yelling ragamuffins, and : '^ •A,t: '*y >*'^ TASTK VERSUS FASHION. 239 * ■^ I the crowd and the engines and all the horrid din collected in front of Henry Hackett's door ; and there was the so-late quiet and snug little dwelling h11 in flames, and the inmates rushing to and fro half dressed and only half awake, the girls trying to se- cure a few articles of clothing, and some small things that they could carry with them, their father and Michael to recover their shop-books and what little money they had had in hands. For some time hopes had been entertained that the fire might be extinguished without much damage to the house, and the firemen, touched with poor Hackett's word- less, heart-breaking sorrow, made every elFort that skill and courage could dictate, but it soon be- came painfully evident that the fire was gaining ground, and in a very short time all hope of saving the house was abandoned, the ques- tion being then to prevent the fire from reach- ing the adjoining premises. This was happily ac- complished, to the great relief of the Gallaghers and Fogartys, but poor Henry Hackett was left without house or home, or furniture, except a few articles of no great value. As for the store, it was gone with all it contained — his whole stock was swept away, and " not a penny of insurance on it," as he mournfully said to Mr. Gallagher and Mr. Fogarty when they put the question to him. The girls had been taken in immediately by Mrs. Gal- lagher and her daughters, and made as comfortable «6 theii* misery^ would allow them to be made. But ^-''•'V.r^.V'r ■ '.> ■ ■•'» 1 i';'' •^ \ tJ *: i' ■ ■::: t, ;> , %^ ■ ■ '. I >-.^i. w ■^. )- ■''! f '• ."' . '•' ,i I ' ?40 OLD AND NETT. OS, for Sarah, in particular, there was no oonsolation— she kept wringing her hands and crying piteously, though she either would not or could not tell why her grief was so overwhelming beyond all the others, who were sharers in her misfortune. Her sisters were not slow to explain the why and where- fore. They told her plainly that it was all her doings, for that she had been sitting up reading after they had gone to bed and were fast asleep, and when one of them awoke some time in the niglit they found the room full of smoke, and the table she was sitting at and the book she had been read- ing all in a blaze; she herself was leaning back in her chair asleep, but it would seem as if some motion of hers had upset the lamp and the dangerous fluid igniting set all it reached in a blaze. Sarah's con- science testified to the truth of the accusation, and, contrary to her wont, she made no answer to the bitter taunts and reproaches of her sisters. The better qualities of her nature seemed called into action by this dread calamity, and no selfish thought wp*8 mingled with her sorrow. The only words that escaped her lips in all the agony of her re- morse were, "My father! my poor hard-working father ! he has lost all ! he's left without a roof to cover him this dismal night." U "No, no, Sarah! don't say that," said Mrs. Gal- laghfir kindly and tenderly (so true it is that mis- fortime is the touchstone of character), "there's none of yon without a roof to cover yoxk while tM TA8TI VntSTTS FASHION 241 }. Gal. mis- Ii.ive one over us! — don't grieve so, my poor girl! it's not 80 bad as it might be, aller all ! — ii*8 a ^'i eat loss surely to your poor father, but still it can be remedied !" Henrv Hackett and his son could not be r)er Buaded to leave the scene ot* the disaster till the last beam had fallen in and their house was a heap of smouldering ruins; then with a heavy 8ii;h liie poor father turned away, saying to his laiihlul Mi- chael: "We may go now, Mike! — and look for a shelter !'* *' It is not far off, Henry," said Mr. Fogarty at his elbow, " the girls are at Mr. Gallagher's, and you and Michael are my property. Come along in, for I'm sure you're in need of rest and refreshment." " I'm obliged to you, Mr. Fogarty ■*' said Ilackett in a choking voice, " it's just what I'd expect from you, and we'll thankfully accept your kind offer, but first we must go and see the girls. Tm afeard some of them was the cause of all this, but still there's no use flying in the face of God, or getting in a passion about it. I suppose it was to be, or it wouldn't be." * Well ! IMl go with you, for fear they'd keep you there, and I can't allow that." When the girls saw their father and Michael tbth grief broke out anew, and it yy^a a pitiful thing to see the father trying to offer consolation to them, when he needed it himself mo^t of all. * Well, girls I" said he, " it will do no good to . r I, ' ■i? . ' . ■ '5 i. ,-:'■'■ f •• • M ■t ■ > ■ ;. » - f. "•'i ■a »- V , 1 213 01,n AKD NKW ; OR, m. K ^^■^ X , , , cry or fret now — what's clone can't be undone, and if God was pleased to take so much of my honest earning away from us, lie can give it baclv in His o\\u time, if we only submit as Cliristians to His blessed and holy will. But how in the wide world did the fire originate? — I know it v as in your room, but wiiat waii the cause of it, — that's what I'd wish to know." Ann and Mary looked at their elder sister, and their father's eyo«« following theira he was shocked to see Sarah paie as death, her eyes heavy and swollen, and she trembling from head to foot. Sise was evidently struggling with herself whether to speak or not. She looked around ; all the Gal- laghers and the young Fogartys and their father were in the room, and the crimson blood rushed to the girl's face, but happily she remembered the con- fusion of one greater than all the sons of men, confu- sion endured for her amongst others, and immediately strength was given her to confess her fault, and she said in a firm voice : " Father, it was I that did it — the fault is all mine, and no one else must be blamed. I was sitting up reading, and fell asleep in my chair, and I suppose I upset the lamp someway in my sleep; but I don't remember anything about it, and never even felt the smoke until Ann and Mary jumping out of bed woke me up. By that time the room was most all in a blaze." " Poor child !'* said her father kindly and in atone 1 / k ■-■> TASTE VERsrs FASHIOK. 24! of compassion, " I don't blame you — I see you ft'ol worse about our misfortune even than I do myself." ♦' I do, father," said Sarah in a husky voice, " I do ^'t'el it worse than you, and, with God's help, I'll never forget it.** And she never did forget it ; from that night for- ward Sarah Ilackett was a different girl, and through all the trials and difficulties her father had to en- jounter before he regained the ground he had lost, his eldest daughter was a comfort and support to him no less than his trusty Michael. One salutary change effected in her by that night's disaster was a horror of bad books, and nothing would ever after induce her to read or even to open onr. But things were not quite so bad with Henry Ilackett and his family as people were apt to sup' pose. He had still his two thousand dollars in bank, and with that he started his business again a little farther up in the same street. Many kind friends pressed forward to help him with money or credit, but Hackett was a man that would never have another run any risk for him if he possibly could help it, and to borrow money without actual necessity was equally against his principles, so he cieerfully drew his little all from the bank, and hiiving invested a hundred dollars or so in such ar- ticles of furniture as could not be dispensed with, he laid in what stock he could advantageously buy for the remainder, and went to work again himself and Michael as cheerily as though no reverse had ^^9^ V <-.: ■■ . :■ i , .' -5 I U' & 244 OLD AND NEW ; OR, n ff ".^r*;;^; come to cloud Ins prospects. He was in the habit of sa}ing that the comfort he had now in Sarah was worth all it cost, and that he would think it well bought even if he ha i lost all. The fact was that Sarah helped considerably to retrieve the misfortune she had unwittingly caused. She would not hear of keeping a girl, and did tlie greater part of the work herself, not to 6j)eak of the sewing which she managed to get all done in the house, much against the will of her sisters in whom the old Adam was as strong as ever — etronger, indeed, from the bitter mortification they were daily obliged to undergo in the article of dress and other matters of equally paramount im- portance. They were very sore in regard to Sa- raii's new turn for Domestic Economy, a science for which, of all others. Misses Ann VVilhelmina and Mary Clementina entertained the most profound contempt. Experiments in that art were always dry an*' distasteful to them, even when the result was to be some savory dish or delicate confection. They never could be brought to take an interest in the fabrication oi' puff or any other paste — apple damplings were their abomination, and puddings of ail kinds were " the greatest bore" — only in the nwkinf!;^ however, for the junior Miss Hacketts by no means disliked that part of the pndding which if* vulgarly called its ^^rw/" — to wit, the eating of it. Many a time they might have been told by Sarah what Alfred the Great in his dijjiguised state was 3 4 « TASTE VERSUS FASHION. 245 ■ 11 " ■ » told by the herdsman's wife wlien he allowed hef oaten cakes to burn: "You're better at eating my cakes when they're baked than you are at minding them when they're baking." Amongst those who interested themselves most in helping Henry Hackctt through his difficulties were the Murrays and Yon Wiegels ; they assisted him in various ways to extend his business, and sent him many substantial proofs of their good-will in the shape of valuable presents of furniture and other matters connected with the re-establishment of his household. Mi:;^ Von Wiegel, hearing from Michael of the very satisfactory change in his elder sister, took occasion one day to call with Alice and tell Mi-^ts Hackett by word of mouth how pleased they all were to hear of her comnvendable industry and clevotion to her father's comfort. " At the same time, Miss Hackett !" bM the young lady when she and her friend rose to go, " at the same time, permit me to offer yon this little token of my esteem which you will w<»ar in remembrance of me." " And of me /am," said Alice Murray, and each of them handed a tiny parcel to the surprised and blushing Sarah, who chanced to be alone at the mo- ment. She curtsied her ack.iowledgment; she could liardly find words to express what she felt. When the ladies were gone and the parcels ex« amined they were found to contain. Miss Von M^i6gel*8 a valuable ring and brooch, Miss Murray '»i ,_iiij ■a 246 OLD AND NEW; OR, •Si two or three setts of French lace sleeves and collars worth several dollars. Sarah had still enough of girlisb vanity remaining to be delighted with the costly gifts she had received, and we miist do her the justice of saying that she valued them more as tokens of the approbation of two such ladies than even their own intrinsic worth consi l^rable as it was. " If I had been still the vain, gidd" 'die thing I once was," said she to herself, " it wo^ /d be long before they would take such notice of me, and I'd live m.y lifetime maybe without getting any such presents." . She didn't say so to her sisters, ho i\,'ever, for their mortification was bitter enough, and "lieir spite no less so, when they saw the beautiful gilts Sarah had received, and what they thought quite as much of, the h,onor of a visit from Miss Von Wiegel and Misa Murray. Their father and Michael were delighted, and told Sarah that was what came of doing one's duty. Michael's reading enabled him to quote Shaks* pearc on that memorable occasion : " Sweet are the uses of adversity, Which, Itke the toad, ugly and venomous, Wears yet a precious jewel in its head." :,'y^ ■,-M W-^^'" •%' TASTE VEK8U8 FA8Hl>jr. 241 CHAPTER XIII. ABOUT NOTHING — AND A PAMfLY PORTRAIT It so happened that the eclaircissemmit promised by Miss Von Wiegel to her mother was postponed, if not longer than she intended, at least much too long for the natural anxiety of a mother under such circumstances. What rendered Madam Von Wiegel doubly desirous of knowing what Bertha knew of Major Montague was the awkward restraint which her uncertainty regarding him necessarily imposed upon her in her intercourse with him. With Bel- lew all was open as the day — she could talk with h'm as freely on every subject as though she had known him for years, but with Montague the case Avas altogether different. There was something about him that repelled any attempt at familiarity, and the old lady, herself as dignified and reserved 38 feminine gentleness and lady-like deportment would at all permit, felt little desire to lessen the distance between them. Still there was a per- ceptible difference in her manner towards him after slie had heard from Bertha who he was. She mad# BO advances, it is true, in the way of inviting fami- liarity, but she would sit and look at him througu hei* gold-mounted spectacles, when she thought no »>ne observed her, till tl^o tears that welled up trora ., -if, ». - ■^ fl ^' : 4" % i4#ii^i 1'. »•• . m i/ ,r.:?v*-:>/: ;^!^' . 248 OLD* AND NEW , OR, ; >. J-- r>. "i^ ■ ■x<'-' ^^^ V '«,!' her heart dimmed her eyes, and her glasses, too There was, moreover, a softened tone in her voi«e when sbo addressed him, though that was no oftener than usual and when his voice reached her ear suddenly she would start, and, perhaps, glance hurriedly around as if half forgetting where she was. Once she said in a low voice to Bertha, as Montague sat conversing with Mr. Murray at a little distance, full in ihe light of a chandelier : " My God ! what a dream is life ! — with him before me I can forget one half my years ! — such was his father eight-and-thirty years ago when we parted in anger to meet no more as — as friends. He was married soon after — and so was I.** "You loved him, mother?" whispered Bertha deeply interested. " Loved him ! — yes ! — why should I now conceal It — and from you, my child ? Lord Dunmore — or Harry Montague as he was in those days — was my first love, and wild and wayward as he was, and proud and passionate, I believe he loved me as only such natures can — with all his faults, Bertha I I found it hard, believe me, to tear his image from my heart. I did, however, for your father'^ worth commanded my respect, and his steady c?,lm affee tion made me love him. Perchance I was hap- pier with him than I ever could have been wi'J) Montague, gifted and fascinating as he was, but now when I look at his son, and see him just what he waS; old memories come crowding on my heart, th« ^1 ,,• '•,. ' »'■ V.I TASTE VERSUS FASHIOK. 249 jlreams of youth flit before my eyes, and the loved and lost are around me warm with the hu-js of life." " But why did you and Lord Dunmore part, mo» ther ?" said Bertha in a painfully earnest tone. " Because," said her mother speaking with evi dent reluctance, " because I found that he — he did not quite come up to my moral standard for a hus- band. I spoke to him of certain matters that had come to my knowledge, he was very indignant, and refused any sort of explanation. But Bertha, my dearest daughter ! how is this ? — how pale you are !" " Oh ! it is nothing, mother, nothing," said Ber- tha with a wan smile, " only a sudden faintness." And she bent her head over the scent-bottle her mother hastened to place in her hand. "My dear Miss Von Wiegel! what is the mat- ter?" asked Captain Bellew coming forward. "I fear you are not well." " Quite well, Captain Bellew ! thanks for your kind inquiry," said Bertha with forced composure j " my mother is answerable for the emotion that at- tracted your notice. She had been indulging more than is her wont in old reminiscences, and some of them affected me more than a little." Mr. Murray said: "Pshaw! some of her old love- passages — I'll warrant your mother had lovers by the dozen in her time.'* • Montague arose and walked to the fireplace, where he stood for a few moments with his back to ,■'-! ,:•)! ' - I if' '^1 .' ■■■'■'' 'Sj r-^3ilC '.'«V 1 >|. . i ; ft ," ■ flw"p'^ .:.fe ^k^:^-, vr -■-: :.:H ^.:1;;lH'^'^■• 250 OLD AND NEW ; OR, the company, apparently examining the specimeni of marble that formed a miniature obelisk on the mantel-piece. Thence he extended his attention to the portrait of the Ritter Von Wiegel, and at last approaching Bertha, said in a tone of perfect ease and self-possession : " I hope you feel quite recovered, Miss Von Wiegel." . . "Perfectly so, I thank you. Major Montague!" was the cold reply. lie looked at her a moment, as if half inclined to say more, but, changing his mind, he turned to Bel- lew, and taking out his watch, said, " I say. Bellow, what oi Lttcia? you seem to forget our engagement for the opera." . , " It were little wonder if I did in this presence," returned the captain, bowing gallantly to the ladies. *' We have a Lucy Ashton here," bowing again to Alice, " who might have sat for the veritable Bride of Lammermoor, and, by-the-bye, Montague, now I think of it, Sir Walter must have had you in his mind's eye — in perspecto, of course — when he drew the Master of Ravenswood. The name, too — Edgar! — by my honor, it is quite a coincidence What think you, Miss Von Wiegel?*' Bertha started, and looked somewhat confused. She had just been thinking how Edgar Montague would look and act and speak as Lucy Ashton's lover, and; unc<>nsciou8ly, she had fixed her gaze on his dark, cold, and classicallv-correct features, ap ^«* ,' t , ^:f .'• ;j. 9-» ii- TASTK VERSUS FASHION. 251 stood before her with his eyes cast do\,'n as if in thought. He looked up at the moment, and his i^la^ce fell on Bertha's face, as she faltered out, " I really have no opinion tc offer." " Save and except the trifling difference that I am rich and Ravenswood poor," said the major, " I accept the likeness, flattering though it be — but I would that / were Edgar Ravenswood and he Edgar Montague." " What says our fair Lucy ?" said the captain forcing a smile. There was a bitter meaning in his friend's words that reached his heart and made him sadder than he would wish to show. Alice was looking up with something like childish wonder into Montague's face — she had never seen one like it in any degree, either in features or ex- pression, and the language it spoke then was beyond her comprehension. She answered, as if in a dream : "Idon*tknow — ask Bertha V* Every one laughed, except Montague and Bertha, and they looked at each other and smiled with strange significance. A shade of some feeling too deep for words passed over either face, but there was coldness, and something like defiance, in the momentary look they fixed on each other. " Come ! come !" said Bellew rather abruptly, " we are but losing time. Suppose we make a party and adjourn in full committee to the opera?" " If the ladies will so fai honor us," said Majoi Montague hesitatingly. ' "^ ' ., mm i4 ■» > *■ \ ' " "*r" » " ■ I ( ' , Jt . ! :-»ii:^<-ti i-'S&'..', ■ ; • I. ' g^.^),*' ■''f < l^^rJI-: \ V. •■■■. 252 OLD AND NEW ; OR, Mr. Murray had no objection. " Thank you,** s.aid Bellew, " weMl set you down on our first pro* gramme for Sir William Ashton.'* Alice was delighted at the idea. Madam Von Wiegel declined, saying she had never been to any place of public amusement since her husband's death, but if Bertha desired to go she had not the slightest objection. " Indeed, I should be glad if you went, my dear !" she said to her daughter, " for your lifu is too much in-doors — too solitary by half." " Do come, chere amie,^^ whispered Alice, " you know I have hardly ever been to the opera," but Bertha only tapped her cheek with a smile of almost maternal affection, and said, turning to the gentle- men ; •' I must beg you to excuse me. I could not think of leaving my moi'-her alone." Her mother declared she would not feel at ah lonely, and begged her to go ; Alice pleaded, and the old gentleman grumbled, but all in vain. " I thank you, Captain Bellew, for your kind in- vitation," she said, in a tone that admitted of no further expostulation, " I cannot possibly join your party to-night. But surely, Mr. Murray, you will not, on that account, deprive Alice of the pleasure of hearing Lucia di Lammermoor i"' " I just will, then, to spite you," said the old gen- tleman very curtly ; " \iynu dcn't go, neither she nor I shall go." " In that case, I must only crave your and her for '■"»■.'.", /■ .<.'. TASTK VERSUS FaSHIOK. 853 giveness," said Bertha smiling, " and do what I can to entertain you both, if you will stay and sup with us en quartette.^'' ' " It's easy seen that Bob isn't here," said RandtJ half pettishly, " if he were, I'll answer for it, you wouldn't be so ready to refuse." " Poor Robert !" sa'^ Bertha, heaving a gentl sigh, " I wonder wliere h^ is to-night?*' "Is the lieutenant gone, then?" asked Beliew, slightly mortified by Miss Von Wiegel's cold refusal, but never long subject to any disagreeable feeling. " Yes, poor Bob left us day before yesterday, and down-hearted enough he was, too— eh, Bertha ? I hope you didn't say anything to damp his hopes when he came to bid you good-bye ? Never mind, never mind ; no need to blush so — we have all had such partings once in our day — eh, Madam Von VViegel ? Well, Bertha, my dear, I believe we loill stay for supper — I wish you a pleasant evening, gen- tlemen." " And you a pleasant er one, Mr. Murray ! toge- ther with a good appetite!" said Beliew as they shook hands. " Good-bye, Miss Murray ! I am little obliged to your fair friend for depriving our Ravenswood of his Lticia.^* " My Lucia !'* repeated Montague, as he coldly shook hands with Bertha, " my Lucia lives ia dreamland — nor man nor woman can deprive m« o^her company !" " Oh I of course, of course, Vive la gloire is youi f .-.'•'•1 ■';■' \- l ' '•' 1 *^'f- '. ■ ... •" * ; ■ ■ * ■ .: » ■ ■•■ ■(. ■ n m '%'-.-.■> f^- ■■■£♦' ■• 'a^' ■:: '•; •' '^ivv'-.-J:.,. 4» 5;N;rt. . :^.■■:■ 954 • OLD AND NEW ; OE, motto — and a coy dame she is to woo, let me tell you ! — well 1 come along, friend mine 1 au revair ladies!" " Now upon your honor !" resumed Bellew when the two friends found themselves arm in arm walk- ing down the avenue, " would you not rather re- main and share the hospitality bo gracefully offered to others than go to regale your ears on the heart- melting tones of Lucy Ashton's love and sorrow?" " You forget, my dear Gerald !'* said Montague In a subdued tone, " that your friend is a most faith- ful votary of Apollo. Music hath charms, the poet says, '* * To sofien rocks and bend the knotted oak.* " " Yea, verily, beloved," said Bellew methodisti- cafiy, *'I own music hath charms, but there be charms greater still. Yea, even such as bound the Norman conqueror and laid him in chains at the feet of Egypt's quee^^ — such spells as Mary Stuart cast on the knights of France and the lords of Scotland." " Such glamory, too," said Montague laughing, " as * the gypsey laddie' of Scottish song threw over * the Earl's lady' when, almost without the asking, he wiled her away * from her own wedded lord' to follow a gaberlunzie. Were such charm at my dis- posal there is a possibility that I mi^ht be tempted to show my power were it but for dear revenge; but you know, Gerald ! I have long forsworn tb«? dangerous art of love-making. My heart is 8heath;icl TASTE VERSUS FASHION. 25& , It In triple armor you know full well, and every avenue leading to it closed against la belle passion. I have not forgotten the dear-bought lessons of the past relieve me I have not!" "Whether or no, Major Edgar Montague! you remind me very much of a moth in dangerous prox- imity to a candle. The candle might safely lay itT hand on its heart (supposing it had those useful organs) and disclaim all evil intent towards the moth, and that volatile insect might with equal sin- cerity declare upon its honor it didn't mean to scorch its dainty pinions, nor wouldn't either, being all over 'sheathed in triple armor.' Have I suc- ceeded, Edgar ! in pointing a moral ?" "Possibly you have, but your moral, luckily, does not 'adorn a tale.' You are complimentary, my good fellow I in your choice of an illustration. And apropos to that, what a Lucia you were kind enough to give me this evening !'* '* Why ? do you not think la belle Alice would make a passable Lucy Ashton ?" " I do not deny it ; but Lucy Ashton herself, in all her fawn-like beauty and dove-like gentleness is not my ic//e-ideal. Much as you say I resemble the Master of Ravenswood I can only account for his wild passion for Lucy Ashton on the principle that extremes meet. I can understand the extent of his love and the form it assumed in such a nature under Buch circumstances, but I never could and never can eoQceive how one so highly endowed ^y nature could SI Sr^' mMm \..% 'fl .s^ im / ?■ y, *v i^.<'- » M'^ ^.- %-' 256 OLD AKD NEW ; OR, waste such a treasure of love on a pale fair-hnired gir' of very moderate intellect. She was too fair and too fond to strike the deepest chords of my heart " " Too fond, Edgar I how mean you ? — surely t/utt would be no disqualification?" " It would, if it were too transparent. Beauty, half seen, is most captivating, and love, too plain and too demonstrative, loses half its charms. The spell we spoke of a little while ago has deeper and more subtle agencies than mere beauty of face and form. Even the instances quoted by yourself go to prove that: Neither Cleopatra nor Mary Stuart could have wielded such a power over the hearts of men — no, nor the Grecian Helen neither — were they not invested with other charms, totally distinct from beauty in its common acceptation. Yourself, my dear Gerald ! is it beauty or sprightly wit- )) " Both, Edgar, both 1" said the captain gaily ; " I ki:ow what you were going to ask. But here we are at the omnibus that will take us to the temple of Apollo. And, by-the-bye ! you have managed to talk me out of a very serious purpose " " What was that, I pray you ?" " Not to hear a dissertation on charms, I give y ni my word. I'll tell you what, Montague ue many degrees too keen for my poor wits.' " Your wits are keen enough, mine honest .lend if you would but rub them up occasionally !" They were now in the omnibus, jammed up TASTE VERSUS FASniOW. S5T generally happens, with the oddest mixture of age, Bex and condition, so conversation was at an end— ' (or which one of the gentlemen at least was by nc means sorry. Between leaving the stage, however, and entering the Academy of Music, Bellew contrived to blanch the major's cheek by saying in a whisper : " That was an unkind cut, was it not? about ' Hlack-eved Susan ?' She touched a sore part just then I" He affected to laugh, however, and whispered in the same tone as they approached the ticket-office : " They jest at scars who never felt a wound. Well for those who have no sore spots to be touched- no festering wounds for such dainty practitioners to probe?" Meanwhile Mr. Murray and the ladies were appa- rently intent on a game of loo, though a close observer would have seen that each one was occu- l)ied more or less with some thoughts or fancies of their own. Even Randal's fine old face was graver than its wont, and Alice, though she smiled occa- BJonally at some petulant exclamation of her father*a when the game was going against him, was evi- dently inclined to the pensive mood. Bertha, at length noticing the preoccupation of the others, made an effort to shake off her own anxious thoughts, and, suddenly threw down the cards with a laugh which she meant for gay, saying : " T'ere ! — who likes may have the pool for me and welcome. I am much of the opinion of the sage old .■ ' \. •', ' ..e, t :*.-:■ t'/ S58 OLD AND NEW I OR, ■)'? > jjlll moralists of the Spectator, that " it is very wonderful to see persons of the best sense passing away a dozen hours together in shuffling and dividing a pack of cards, with no other conversation but what is made up of a few game phrases, and no other ideas but those of black or red spots ranged together in dlfterent figures.*' *' There is much truth In the remark, Bertha, my dear," said Kandal Murray, "and yet see h^w men, and women, too, can give up their heaits to the in- fluence of these same black and red spots, and devoto the energies of their being to that very idea which your author satirizes so keenly !" " Self, my dear sir ! self is at the bottom of that t^/t-a," said Madam Yon Wiegel ; " that eager long- ing for success in all things which spurs men on to the wildest deeds of daring, and renders them proof against the hardest privations. Is not lite itself lik« a game of cards, when we come to think of it ?" " Not a doubt of it," said Mr. Murray, drawing his chair nearer the fire, which the chill April even- ing rendered very acceptable. "We have our trump cards, and our honors, and our shuffling, and de;iling, and, though we have the lead of an odd time, we don't always take our aealing trick. Now I thought Bob had turned up a trump in ?ds gamo of life." He fixed his eyes abstractedly on Bertha, then slowly added, " but I almost begin to fear thti boy didn't play his cards well — eL, Bertha ?" TASTE VERSUS P'ASHION. 25\» derful way a a pack ^hat i^ ' ideas ther in ha, my w men, the in- i devoto 2 which of that er long- n on to ii proof self likd it?" rawing il even- ve OUT ing, and an odd Now is gjimo [Bertha, fear th« V Bertha blushed a very little, but she answered quite composedly : " To carry out your allegory, Mr, Murray ! I think Robert has scarce commenced his game. I know not that he will ever be a scientific player, or a very cautious one, but, in the affairs of life, if not at cards, a bold and careless player often commands brilliant success. Robert's horoscope is not yet cast," she added, looking thoughtfully into the fire before her, " but the stars are bright, in the house of his nativity." "And your horoscope, my fair astrologer ?" asked Mr. Murray rather more earnestly than a jest would seem to warrant. "Mine?'* said Bertha, in a dreamy voice, and without looking up, "mine? — how should /k'>i0w f But I feel — I feel as though the clouds wcx'o partiag over my head, and the shadowy future (crvrAr.g into shape." Her large soft eyes were fixed on vitcatcy, and bIic evidently forgot that she was not alone, The color faded gradually from her cheek in the intensity of hei own thoughts, till she looked liko the oculp tured image of some artist-poet's dreaui. Mr. Murray and Alice watched her with wonder* ng eyes, but her mother only smiled sadly, and ^vhispered : " Be not surprised — there is, at times, ft tinge of mysticism in her mind, that comes, I sup- pose, from her German lineage." " What did you say, my dear mother ?" said /.. ^: k' ■'' - .» ■^ Iff' ^ 260 OLD AND NEW ; OR, " J '!! A ■ "'ill ■ ., "'ill •.^^u'! ,.-,. ?if'^''':.'*t Bertha, recalled to consciousness, or rather to recol* lection by the sound of her mother s voice. " I was telling our friends, my dear, that you ar* somewhat given to fits of abstraction at times," " I'm glad to see you safe back in the world of reality, Miss Bertha,'* said Mr. Murray in his natural maimer ; " would it be making too free if I asked who was your companion in your late journey to the moon ?" " I decline answering the question," said Berthq with a smile so sweet that the old gentleman's good humor was more than restored. " Well ! well !" said he, stirring the fire with great energy and activity, " I suppose it was * on eagle's wings* you went aloft, like my countryman, Daniel O'Ronrke, of lunar celebrity. But we were talking of stars just before you started for Madam Cynthia's domain — what aspect do the heavenly bodies wear to-night ?" " They are misty as the ghosts of Ossian's war- riors," said Bertha, laughing, " even the * star of the west' has withdrawn her 'shadowy splendor,* but General Mars, I am happy to say, smiles fiercely down in all the glory of his zenith. That arguei well for our young soldier, does it not ?" "I'll tell you what, now. Bertha!'* said Mr. Murray, turning phort on her, " I think Bob's ' par- ticular stp*r' belongs to the terrestrial globe, just now, not the celestial — not 'aH the planets as they roll' can decide his fate, poor fellow 1" <:/■'>''; mm •ecol* m ari J," Id of n \\\^ 36 if I )urney Bertba '8 good •e with ;ras ' on try man, ye were Madam eavenly I's war- iv of the |.or,' but fiercely argues lid Mr. )'8 ' pal'- bstnow, Ley voll' TASTE VERSUS FASHION. " Mother,*' said Bertha, avoiding the earnest gaze which Alice fixed on her, " mother, you have often promised to tell me the story of that pale, melan- choly girl whose portrait, hanging in a dark corner of the library, has excited my curiosity ever since I have been here. I am sure Mr. Murray and Alice will be glad to hear a story from you ; and it is just the time to tell it, as we four sit like the Monks of Kilcrea, if not ' by a bog- wood fire,' at least, by a very cheerful substitute for that patriarchal flame. I will turn the gas down almost out of sight," and rising she suited the action to the word, " a story of the dead told by gas-light reminds me of a ven- erable ruin daubed with whitewash or yellow ochr' ." Mr. Murray and Alice expressed themselves most anxious to hear the story, and Madam Von Wiegel acceded with a grave smile. " It is a sad story," said she, " that my daughter will have me tell. Neither is it a story of every -day occurrence, God forbid it were ! As it is almost the time for which I ordered supper, I will make my narrative as brief as possible. That will do, Jan." The major-domo had been putting fresh coals on the fire, which operation was accompanied, as usual, l»y a most tremendous clatter. " Now go down, and toll Betty to serve supper in half an hour." " Yah, madam I" and Jan vanished, very slowly though, as Bertha and Alice remarked one to the olher. " The young girl, my dear Bertha, whose pictured ^'^ ■', "I- . ■• if .■* ■■ ' -(•'■ ■iK 'T^ ■ : t.'.r '■ 'I ■/— if!;,': lljiil-:'^ C- ;H i^'i^L^- 'Mm ■ . .V ■■.■ '■ ' fill 262 OLD AND NEW : OR, semblance has, you say, attracted your attention and excited your curiosity, was, at one time, the heiress apparent of this house with all its ap- purtenances. She was the niece of Wolfred Von Wiegel, your great uncle, and her name was Ulrica De Menzel. She was an orphan of noble descent on the paternal as well as maternal side — her mo- ther was Adelaide Von Wiegel, the only sister of Wolfred, and, of course, your great-aunt, Bertha ! Now it so happened that this young lady had a lover who followed her from Deutchland, and, though barely tolerated by her uncle or his wife (they were a childless old couple at the time) con- trived to keep himself on a footing of intimacy in the family, owing to the nervous fears entertained by the uncle and aunt that any positive insult to him would be resented by their spoiled darling as worse than a perso:?"! affront to herself. Indeed the young man — his name was Otto Lehman — was so amiable and so accomplished that his evident poverty was the sole pretext the old couple could possibly advance for denying him their countenance —or what they considered of far more importance — Ulrica's presence, which they saw clearly was to him the sun of life and the blossom of hope. Inde- pendent of his poverty, however, there was another objection to Meinheer Otto, which rendered him ■till less acceptable to the vrorshipful Wolfred and his stately old wife: he was not a Catholic, and, worse ■till, he was nothing, as regarded religion. He was m ition ;, the J ap- Von Jlrica 3cent r mo- er of Mtha ! had a , and, 8 wile 3) con- lacy ill •tained suit to ling a8 [ndeed I — was ftvidont could lenance lance — kas to Inde- inother }d him ;d and worse lie was TASTE VERSUS FASHION 263 a fair specimen of those dreamy German rationalists who resolve all religion into the coldest and most visionary abstract, not even the shadow of a shade. Unluckily he had succeeded in tranfusing some of his own wild theories into Ulrica's brain, which was, of itself, somewhat tinctured with a morbid fancy foi the unreal. The girl was fair, as you may perceivti from her portrait, and, being the reputed heiress of the Von Wiegel property, suitors for her hand were not wanting. One of these, a young English- man, a merchant of high standing in New Amster- dam (as our good city was then called), was formally received by the old couple as the future husband of Ulrica, on whom they laid their commands to smile graciously on his suit, under pain of forfeiting all right to their inheritance, and being sent back to her dismantled castle by the Rhine, there to dwell with owls and bats amid the dreary shadows of broken walls, and the drearier shadows of departed ages. Awed by this threat, it was supposed, Ulrica clia Bmile on the fair-haired Briton, gave her uncle and aunt to understand that she would soon consent to become a wife, and Otto came no more." " Dear me, Madam Von Wiegel !" cried Alice Murray, " did she give him up ?" " No. no," said Bertha with striking emphasis, "I know she could not — dare not give him up !'* Madam Von Wiegel smiled sadly and went on ; " Easter time came round, and her aunt would have had Ulricn go to confession and make her pascbsj *r t:i t- ' ■ -III 4 '^i'ii X ^■'^f «. M . 264 OLD AND NEW ; OR, ,■>!. ,' M communion — she excused herself on one pretence of another till the great festival was past — on Easter Tuesday morning she was missing from the break- fast-table — after waiting awhile, her alarmed relatives had her room-door forced — she was not there — the house was searched with no better success, but it chanced that the library was overlooked. Towards evening, Wolfred Von Wiegel went thither to pray that some light might be thrown on the cause of Ulrica's mysterious disappearance, and lo ! in a high- backed arm-chair near one of the windows sat his orphan niece — dead and cold as a block of marble. A smile was on her face, a cold, ghastly smile, and a miniature was clasped in her death-clenched hands — it was that of Otto Lehman ! On a small table near lay an unsealed note, containing only a few faintly - traced lines, which read as follows : ' I said I would soon consent to become a wife — I have kept my word, as I meant it — Otto and I plighted our faith to each other this night — here in this very room, — while night's dark mantle covered the earth ; and the light of the tomb was our star of love. Apart we could not live, togetlter the fates forbade — seek to know no more. This, however, you mvM know, for if I played the hypocrite during life, death shall ex- pose the truth ! I never was a Catholic — I never uai a Christian, at least in your sense, — the great unseen was my deity — the mighty spirit of the Universe, of which my own soul is a part — Otto was the incarna- tion of that sublime idea — he was the genius of mj/ !^>"f TASTE VERSUS FASHION. 265 (kte,— call it good or evil, — as I was of his. No more for time or eternity of her who was Ulrica.' " " Merciful Providence, what a death !" cried Ber- tha, pale with horror. " Mother, knowing all this, how can you keep the unhappy girl's picture in our library ?" " It has hung there so long, my dear, as a family portrait, that I, not being a Von Wiegel myself, would feel a certain reluctance in having it removed. For myself I never look at it without a shudder — yet still the sight of it coiweys a solemn lesson on the priceless value oi faith ^ the happiness of leading a Christian life, and the danger of giving the rein to human reason, without the guidance of divine faith." " But, dear me, Madam Von Wiegel !" exclaimed Alice Murray, " what became of the genius ? was he ever found, dead or alive ?" "Or was he accountable for the lady's death?" asked her father. " That I know not, Mr. Murray, but I have heard my dear husband say that a young man answering tlie description of Otto Lehman made his appear- ance a year or so after in the old castle of Ulrica's family, amongst the vine-clad hills by the Rhine, where he had been employed years before in teach- ing the young daughter of that impoverished house, the polite leai'ning of the age. There he lived a lonely man, shunning and shunned, practising nccult and forbidden ai'ts as the simple Khenisb ■V \'' "■ ■:•• M '■'I ;r ;; .• \ M 4 .^if . >>t (,,' •'1 .'•■ ■'. 266 OLD AND NEW *, OR, peasants believed, and there, after a few years, he was found in a dying state, already speechless, by Bome wild fellows who had made a bet with tlieir coinj^anions that they would pay the conjurer, an they called him, a visit in his den." " Supper on the table, madam!" said ^ an, open- ing the door. " Upon my hor.or, I'm glad to hear it," said Mr. Murray, rising with alacrity, and offering his arm to the old lajy; "that story of yours has all bul given me a fit of the ague." 'il, :": ■' ■ ■.^-:*'' m m * ' ft , ■ ^ . * 1 "i ■, - pi: ' » . i, tASTB VERSUS FASHION. 267 CHAPTER XIV. i *' • aH astounding discovery — AND A WEDDINO. About a montb or so after the fire at Henry Hack- ett's, when Michael and his father were busily en- gaged " putting things to rights" in their new store, who should drop in one evening but John McCo- noghy. It was not his first visit since Henry's great misfortune, for he had been an active and efficient friend during the dreary days immediately following the disaster, but on this particular occasion ht seemed in such remarkably good humor — so exube? antly happy, as it were, that Henry Hackett coulc* not choose but notice it. The first thing John die on entering the shop was to shake hands, and sucV a shake, with Michael, across the counter, with the highly-appreciative remark that he (Mike) was a regular trump, and no mistake! Michael smiled knowingly, and nodded sagaciously, but said noth ing, as there were some persons in the store at the time. When they were served and gone, Henry said with his quiet inward laugh ! " Well, Mr. McConoghy ! what's on foot now ? I see you're as merry as a cricket." " And why wouldn't I be merry, Mr. Hackett ? And what's more, you'W be merry, too, (for all that's come across you,) when I tell you. And, indeed '■' .f. ■ '.4. .»> , ■i' ■.•■' i v]ff' '•' -^'^ :^r*r"! - :"S'i'-' •.fj ■•, .ItFM'JSi Kii ■ m* fe '«•' * •■, t. * V •••: , "il'ii- ' t-' rJ >ii >.' 1 'A 4 m..«i 268 OLD AND NEW ; OR, yen have a right to be well pleased, for that son of yours is one of the cutest and brightest chaps of his age in New York City." "I'm obliged to you, Mr. McConoghy, for your good word of Michael," said the fond father with much and very natural complacency ; " the boy's well enough, thanks be to God, and to tell the trutli of him, he's a good, obedient child as any father need wish to have. But what's your news ?" " Have you been to Taylor's ?" said Michael with a waggish look from under his brows. "Have I? I guess I have, Mike! though the ladies didn't know I was there till I chose to bring myself under their notice — when it suited myself. Ha ! ha ! ha !'* " Well ! don't you want to hear the secret now ?" " Secret ! — ah ! you young — I don*t know what to call you, for I wouldn't like to call you anything bad," and he shook his fist good-humoredly at Mike, who was looking as demure as an owl. " The secret's no secret now, and it's all up with them you knmr. I'll go bail they'll keep clear of 66 for the time to come." ''Well ! but how was i"? — how did you manage?' inquired Michael. "For goodness' sake, what is it?" exclaimed his f;i- ther, " whatever it is, you have it all to yourselves.'' "Never mind, Henry, never mind! we'll not bo long so. Husht ! here are people coming in.'* "Better wait,'* said Henry, "till we close tba TASTE VERSUS FASHION. 209 Btore — it won*t be long, now, and then you can come up-stairs and smoke a cigar." *' Agreed 1" said McCoiioghy, taking his seat on a large tea-chest that stood near. The store being closed, our trio adjourned, as per resolution, to the sitting-room on the floor above where the three sisters were variously engaged, Sarah with her stocking-basket beside her, darning woollen socks, Ann reading a suspicious-looking book with a flaunting yellow cover, whilst Mary was playing over, or trying to play, the last new Polka. The young ladies last named were terribly " put out" by the presence of the stocking-basket afore- said, and one of them made a sign to the other to remove it presto, prestissimo ! To this Sarah would by no means consent, quietly laying her hand on the obnoxious article, and telling Ann in a low voice that she thought no shame of its being where it was. After the necessary inquiries relative to health, and the customary observations on the state of the weather, a momentary silence ensued. Heciry Hackett, supposing that McConoghy might not care to speak out before the girls, told them to leave the room for a little while for that he aad Mr. McConoghy had a word to say in private. "If it's on account of what I'm going to tell you," Baid the latter gentleman, " there's no occasion for them to go — I'd as soon they'd hear it as not." w i^' ■t- «ii m .1 > t : ■■■" .r' '- - i ' . '■' ■■J *^ f-^':, » V . : S70 OLD AND NEW ; OB, This intimation of a secret being in the wind placed the young ladies on the alert, and they all fixed their eyes on John 's good-looking face with an expression of eager curiosity. " Well !" said McConoghy, not at all insensible to the importance of his position as a narrator, and clearing his throat vigorously once or twice, " well ! you remember, Michael ! you laid it on me as an ob- ligation to take the Miss Gallaghers — or have them taken — to Taylor's Saloon, some evening. At the time I had little hopes that I'd be able to succeed, for I wouldn't on any account ask them myself; howsomever, I said to myself, faint heart never won fair lady, so I'll see what can be done. I turned it over and over in my mind a good many times, but I could see no other way of working the packet ex- cept to tell Tom right straight out how the matter stood. I did so, and I declare to you he jumped at it like a fish at a bait — he was so tickled at the no- tion of tricking the wife and daughters, though he knew no more than I did myself v/hat dog was in the well. We both agreed that it was best for rae to keep out of sight, but be near at hand till we'd see how the joke went. Well ! one evening after tea, Tom says to his wife, as innocently as could be; * What do you think, Ellen, if you and the girls would come out for a walk, as the night's fine ?' At first, the proposal was not very graciously received ; the girls murmured among themselves, and raado rry faces behind the parental backs. They had about *■ , ■ TASTE VERSUS FASniOX. 271 At jived ; rnacla about mado up their minds (or rather guessed they had) that it wasn't worth the trouble of dressing 'just to go out for a walk with pa and ma,* but their mother, I suppose, thinking the walk might lead to some de- sirable purchases, gave them the wink, and forth- with they were all unanimous in accepting the invi- tation. Tom knowing right well the answer he'd get, asked them at the door where they'd like to go to — 'Oh! where but to Broadway?' says one, and * where but to Broadway ?' says another, and, to be sure, the ladies were all for Broadway ; so over to Broadway we went — the Gallagher's ahead, and my- self some yards behind — and down Broadway we marched in the same order, till we — or rather they — got to Taylor*8 Saloon, at the corner of P^ranklin street, and, to be sure, Tom would have ' Ellen and the girls' go ii: and rest themselves and have some refreshment, anl, to be sure, they jumped at the offer, and in they went, and in I went after them, and squeezed myoeli into a corner where tkci/ couldn't see me (though I could see them) on account of a big, brawny Western Hoosierthat I managed to have between me and the ladies. You may be sure I had my eye on them, wondering all the time what the Jeuce Michael Haokett could have sent us there for. While I was cudgelling my brains about that a »^mart young waiter came to the table where I sat with some ice-cream for my Western neighbor, and I could scarce keep from crying out in surprise, when hiR eyes and mine met - amazing d'«"-overy ! I saw '^ 4 . »• yt ' •i-'A^ . r ^ '»fe' \ ■•?*■ •'' 272 OLD AND NEW 1 OR. before me the highly-esteemed Mr. Green, who seemed anything at all but pleased at the meeting, and made his exit in what soldiers call double-quick time. But alas ! the Gallagher family had seen him, too, and I could hear Elbe's voice quite plain : ' Ma I for pity's sake look there !' I was sorry for her ii one way, but in another, I was not, for I knew it was all her own fault — so I thought I'd have n/y share of the fun, and over I went to where they were sitting, and down I sat myself, right opposite Tom, and asked the ladies if they wouldn't have something. No, they thanked me, they had had some ice sream and didn't wish anything more, and I could see they were v/ishing me anywhere else but where I was — Tom and myself had our own fun of it, I tell you, watching the nervous tremor that the ladies were in for fear the Green Knight might make his appear- ance in their vicinity. While they were straining their eyes looking for hi??i, up comes another gentle- man to the next table, in white apron and round jacket, with a towel under his arm, and in his hands a tray, on which were tastefully arranged two mugs of the universal lager, two plates of oyster stew, two ice-creams (as the waiters say), and a large plate of cake. But it wasn't the odd mixture of eatables and drinkables on the tray that attracted my eyes, or Tom Gallagher's either, and I guess it wasn't onr eyes that made the gentleman in the white apron blush like a full-blown peony, and come as near drop* ping tray and all and taking to his heels, as a body \^1^ TASTE VERSUS FASHION. 273 could without actually doing it. I hoard Miss Ellie on one side and Miss Mag on the o' her, giving a groan that you'd think was out of a pit, and Misa Gallagher said, loud enough to be heard all round : * Why, ma! I declare if that a'nt Mr. Brown ! — Mag, ■why don't you speak to him'?' 'Oh! you hard- hearted thing !* said Miss Mag between her teeth, * if / dou*t be even with you for tbu^ !' — ' I guess we'd best be going !' said Mrs. Gallagher putting on her gloves, and the girls all made a move, except Fanny, who, it was plain, enjoyed the fun amazingly, and thought, if she did not say it : " ' 'Twill nebber do to gib it up so, Mr. Brown, 'Twill nebber do to gib it up so.' * * Why, what's come over you all ?' says Tom, winking at me ; ' why don't you finish your ice- cream ? — it's paid for now, and there's no u e leaving it after you ?' ' Of course, pa, we must finish it,' said Fanny ; ' why you're taking nothing, Mr. MoConoghy I' says she, the next word, turning to myself, and T p^^test I was most struck dumb with surprise, for, to ti.e best of my knowledge, it was the first civil ^ord Miss Gallagher ever spoke to me —I managed to find voice, howsomevor, to tell her that I had taken all I wanted before I happened to get sight of them, but was entirely obliged to her for asking. ' Get up this minute,' said the mother across the table to Fanny, in a low voice, ' don't you see myself and the others are ready to go, and t's just working contradiction you are. Get up, I *■' '.»♦» ■ ^^Wrnrn^ 271 OLD AND NEW ; OR, :l'|. say! Tom! what are you about?' Tin about moving, Ellen i come along now !' ' My goodness ma !* said Fanny in a loud whisper, as we all stood up to go, * wouldn't Mag and Ellie like to say good- bye before they go ? — it's cruel to take them ofl* so — a'nt it, pa ? a'nt it, Mr. McConoghy ?' The last- named individual was so overpowered by this se- cond honor conferred on him that he hardly knew which end of him was uppermost, and can't for the life of him tell wiiat anrvver he made, or whether ho made any. I rather think the Miss Gallaghers, especially Etlie and Mag, could not give any better account as to how they got to the door, for thej looked as if they thought every eye in the room was on them (and that was a good many) — they weren't, though, for every one there was too busy, either eating and drinking or picking their teeth, to pay much attention to what was going on elsewhere, and besides no one knew, probably, or even guessed, except ourselves, that there was such a nice little secret connected with two of the very nice young men who were comforting their inward men (and w^omen) with i^er 6ier and all lh.Q etcetera;. Even if they had suimised what a serious hoax had been played on the Gallagher family, they might not have been so much surprised as the inhabitants of more old-fashioned cities would have been, for such things are too common in our fashionable society to make jmy great sensation." Mr. McConoghy paused to take breath, and, pro* ^ ■ TASTE VERSUS FASHIOX. 275 bably, to allow his auditors to indulge their merri- ineiit, if they felt inclined thereto. '* Well ! well !" said Henry Hackett, holding up Ills hands in admiration, " we needn't wonder at any- thing we hear after that !" " And that's what they found my gentlemen at !" cried Ann. " Waiters in a saloon — my ! Fm so glad!" echoed Mary. ''What an impudent pair of fellows !" said Sarah, " I'm real sorry for the Gal- laghers — they were so kind to us in our trouble! How bad they must feel to be taken in so !" " Well !" said Michael, with sly meaning, " what do you think of the fool's errand now, Mr. McConoghy ?'* "Think, Michael? what do I think of it?— why I think this, that you're a great little fellow all out — and to show you how well pleased I was at the come-down you were the means of giving the ladies' foolioh pride I went into a store in Broadway before ever I got home and bought you this — I know you're fond of books!" And so saying he handed Michael a History of the War of Independence, the Bight of which made Michael's eyes sparkle, for such books came rarely into his possession. His father was as much delighted as himself, but they both said it was too much for Mr. McConoghy to give or Michael to take. Their grateful apologies were cut short by John. "Don't mention it, now, don't, I beg of ycr, Mr. Hackett! - 1 have taken a liking to Michael, and if I live and get along as well as I'm doing, I'll give rm 1* • '■C 276 OLD ANn NEW ; OR, t mm. him a lift that will serve him — I can tell you Tom Gallagher is almost as thankful to you as I am, Michael, and he'll tell you so himself. But where was I In my story — or did I tell it all ?" " No, no, you did not tell us what they all said when they got out " " Oh ! that's easy told ; Fanny burst out laughing, and began to repeat poetry for them :* " ' I saw him, Lucy, only once, as down the lighted hall, We moved to music playfully, a stranger to us all ; A stranger with a pale white brow, and dark and meaning eye, Which flash'd like lightning on my own, whene'er he passed me by. •' ' He press'd my hand at parting, and to-night he will be here. While pa is at his game of chess, and ma is nowhere near ; Excuse me, dearest Lucy, now indeed I cannot write, To-morrow I will tell you more, he will be here to nighl. PS. " 'Oh! dearest Lucy, pity me, I really think I'm dying, My heart is like a heart of lead — my eyes are red v\Uh crying ; But yesterday the bank was robbed, and of a large amonnf , My father caught the robber, and, oh mercy ! — 'twas niif Count r *' Fanny kept talking on in the same strain all the way home, to the great amusement of her father though he didn't venture to laugh out, and her mo- * I will not vouch for Ih-^ fidelity of Mr. McConoghy's me- mory on this notable occasion. I therefore supply any por iible deficiency on his part. ^ TASTE VERSUS FASHION. 2n tber having a pretty good idea that she was some- where in the same boat with Mag and Ellie, kept ^ery quiet, and just let Fanny say what she luid to Bay, though at another time she'd have put a stop- per on her mouth pretty quick. 'And, to be snro, we must have a party for them !' said Fanny, in « voice loud enough to reach the ears for which it was meant, if not of the passers-by. 'And we must go to the opera with them, and post ourselves in a front box, too ! for fear we mightn't be seen with our stylish American-looking beaux /' Flesh and blood couldn*t bear this, so Mag and Ellie turned on their unsympathizing sister, who was declared by her mother a Job's comforter. ' I'll tell you what it is, now, my good lady !' said the high-mettled Mag in a decidedly menacing tone, ' you've gone about far enough for this, time — you'd best not provoke me any farther !' ' She may talk now,' said Ellie, ' when things have turned out so different from what they had ought to, but she'd have set her cap at Green or Brown as soon as any of us, only she didn't hap- pen to take their fancy — ahem !' This was the last /heard of it," proceeded John, "for, as I told you, I left them on Broadway and went in to get the book for Michael. I forgot to tell you, though, that if i didn't go home with the Gallagher family it wasn't for want of a very warm invitation, not only from my friend Tom but from Miss Fanny herself, but I thanked them kindly and bid them good-night, The truth is, Mr. Hacketi, that I have seen too 27S OLD AND NEW ; OR, niuoh of the young ladies, and I begin to think that Miss Fanny, being a very splendid indivi- dual, wouldn't answer for a plain man like John McConoghy to jog through life with." Whether by accident or design, Mr. McConoghy'a full, clear eyes rested on Sarah as he thus wound up his narration, but Sarah either was, or appeared to be, too intent on what she was doing to take any particular notice of what, direction his eyes took. The two younger sisters, and even Michael in his own peculiar way, made quite merry over the fall of the splendid castle which the Gallagher girls had been building in the air, and John McConoghy quite won their hearts by the active part he had taken in demolishing the ferial edifice. Mr. McCo- noghy, on the other hand, seemed to feel himself quite at home, and by the time he had taken a glass or two of punch, the spirit of which, as Mr. Hackett assured him, was genuine Irish whiskey, his heart expanded after the manner of Irish hearts under such genial influence, and he drew his chair over to Sarah and began to compliment her, first, on her industry, next, on her good looks, and finally, on the possibility of her being a fit and proper person to take upon her the style and dignity of Mrs. John McConoghy. Sarah blushed and smiled, but there was no em- barrassment or emotion of any kind in her voice or manner as she listened to this '* flattering tale'* told not by hope but by John McConoghy. Then sbo TASTE VERSl 4 FASHION. 279 mannged to put ic off with a laugh, as though giving it for a joke, and so she said laughing: " I'm much obliged to you, Mr. McConoghy ! for your good opinion, but as for the other matter, 1 hope you don't despair of Miss Fanny. I think you're just on the high road to success in that quarter." Mr. McConoghy, in reply, protested with marked energy and determination that a ring he'd never put on a Gallagher's finger, unless his mind changed, which he did not think it would. He soon after took his leave, and then the girls began to teaze Sarah on her new admirer, whom they declared " not half so bad as they used to think him." Saraii smi'ed and suffered them to nm on ti!l they had exhausted their topic, then they began to yawn in concert (as people generally do), and their father told them they had better go to bed and be up early. The latter suggestion was evidently not much to their liking, but the former they adopted and carried out immediately. They asked Sarah wouldn't they wait for her, but she said it would keep them too long, as she had a good deal to do yet. When the younger sisters had retired, Henry Hackett sat a few moments silent with his eyes fixed on vacancy, then all at once starting from his reverie addressed his daughter as follows* *' Sarah, I think Mr. McConoghy is in earnejst about that, though you passed it off for a joke." ; 4 ;^!f^ .; 280 OI,D AND NEW ; OR, "In earnest about what, father?" asked Sarah very demurely. " Come, come now, you know as well as I do." • Well I I don't know that I do, father ! — do yo9 mean about Fanny Gallagher ?" " No, but I mean about Sarah Hackett !" " A'nt she a sly bit of goods, father ?" said Michael. " Not quite so sly as some of my neighbors — eh, Michael?" " Well ! but, Sarah dear," said their father, " wouldn't it be a fine match for you, supposing he was in earnest?" " Perhaps it might, father, but then " she stopped, and looked down at her work. " But then what ? — have you any objection to him ?'» " I can't say I have " *' In the name of Goodness, then, why do you talk as if vou had ?'* " Maybe she has a notion of somebody else, father?" suggested Michael in a tone half jest half earnest. " Nonsense, Michael ! who would she have a notion of?" " Well, that's more than I can tell," said Michael, " but I know one that has a notion of her — don't T, Sarah ?" Sarah dropped her work, and looked Michael steadily m the face, her cheek dyed scarlet. The arch intelligence of Michael's smiling glance put hor ftll in a tremor. iii' ^L'''' <-A TASTE VERSUS FASHION, 281 " See there, father 1" said the droll fellow, point- ing to his sister's burning cheek, " didn't I tell you ? — Sarah, may I tell father who it is '?" " Do, Michael," said his father who began to feel rather anxious on the subject of Sarah's agitation. " Well, silence gives consent," said Michael, " so I suppose I may speak — it's Edward Fogarty, fa- ther." Henry Hackett felt quite relieved, and the good-natured smile came back to his face — of lato more haggard and care-worn than its wont. " Fie ! fie i Michael," stammered his sister, rising as if to put away her work, " how can you say such a thing ?" " How can I say it ? — why, because I know it's true " " And how do you know it, Michael ?" said his father. " He knows no more about it than the man in tli© moon — so don't mind him, father !" put in Sarah. " Well! there's no saying but the man in the moon knows something about it too," said the waggish youth; "they say lovers do take him inta their confidence at times — whether or no I can't say, but I know I have it from Edward Fogarty's own lips that he has loved our Sarah ever since the night of the fire, and that if he don't have her for a wife he'll never have any" " Oh ! you shocking bad boy !" said Sarah, " a*nt y-Qu ashamed to talk so ?" " Sarah !" said Henry Hackett in a very serioui ..vi- t* wr?r K'O i 283 OIJ) AND KEW ; OH, ,» ■•' ' »•; ^.«-, «;- .• .'0 , tone : " Has Edward ever spoken to you on the sub ject ? — i'm in earnest, now, and 1 expect a plain, slraiglitforward answer.'* " Well, father ! when you put a question to me in that way, I must tell you the truth. Edward hai spoken to me many times about — about — that matter." "And what do you think of it?" Sarah looked down at the matting on the floor, and the color mounted from her cheeks to her temples. " I think you needn't ask, father !" said Michael with his quiet laugh, " her face tells the story, and I don't think her tongue will tell it much plainer. At any rate, I'm going to throw myself into the arms of Morpheus.'* '* Morpheus ! who is he, Michael ?" asked the fa- ther, not unwilling to give Sarah time to recover her composure. " Why, the god of sleep, to be sure !** " The god of sleep, Michael ! dear me ! I didn't know there was such a god in heathen times. 1 often heard of Bacchus, the god of wine, and Venus, the goddess of beauty " " And Cupid, the god of love, father !" put in Mi- chael with a sly glance at Sarah. " Oh ! to be sure, and Mars, the god of war " "And Mercury, the god of thieves?" " Why no, Mike, no I I never heard of hinf- — do you tell me there was a god of thieves ?" TASTE VERSUS FASHION. 283 *' And to be sure there was ! — why wouldn't there be a god of rogues and roguery as well as a god of drunkenness, and a goddess of unclean vices? Don't you know it was the devil they were all wor« shipping in those days, and how could he be better worshipped than under the names of the seven ca pital sins ?" " I declare, Michael ! you're doing well at the classics !" said his father with a fond smile. " Why, of course, I do the best I can, if it was only to show my gratitude to the dear ladies that are giving me the opportunity of advancing myself. Every time I go, either Miss Von Weigel or the old Madam, whichever I happen to see, is sure to ask me how I'm getting along with my master." " God bless them every day they rise !" said Henry, taking up his little night-lamp, "it was the lucky day for us all that they came to know you^ Michael ! — and if ever you get forward to be or- dained, it's them, afier God, you may thank for it." *'And his own good sense and good talents, fa- ther," said Sarah with an affectionate glance at her ' brother, " only the ladies saw something in him past the common, they'd never take such an interest in him, or pay a master to come to the house to teach him." •' Well ! after that, I think I may go," said Michae! darting out of the room, and so ended the conver« lation. It was not many days after that when Edward '^: V. '<■% j^- ' Utl IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) V A .// L<'/ y. Vx 1.0 I.I 1.25 lit ;5f ilM \17A K IIIII2.2 m k i 1.4 IlM 1.6 Photographic Sciences Corporation iV '^ ^ \ •^v #'^'r^'' ^^^> ^^^^ ^^^ 23 WEST MAI!-! ■•TRFJT WEBSTER, N.Y. I458U (716) 872-4503 fe"/ Va "m > ^■M^ Z^^-^"^' '• m>. ... - ■. *"■■'■ * ■■ Fid ,A^..),.,i.^ ,>■ ,'!?r^. " •. ,. ,-i ^■.;«» ,'_>: ., ,1. .( d 1 t 'it' «'. s ■■■■ '* ■ 284 OLD AND NEW i OR, Fogarty, the second son of William H., came to ask Sarah Hackett in marriage. A fine young fellow Edward was — manly, honest and independent, with as much good sense in his well-formed head as would furnish half a dozen fashionable ninniea (commonly called coxconibs) with tJieir allowance of brains. He was anxious to get along in the world, and set about it in the right way, having gone while a mere boy into a merchant's office down town, and there worked his way upward, till he now enjoyed the fullest confidence of his employers, and was chief salesman in their warehouse, with a very hand- some salary in possession, and a junior partnership in perspective. Sober, steady, intelligent, and most assiduous in the discharge of his duties, Edward Fogarty was just the young man to rise in any business or profession, and as Henry Hackett told him with tears of joy in his eyes : " I know you're a good son and a good brother, Edward ! and Pm sure you'll make a good husband. If I was looking out for a husband for my dear Sarah, I couldn't find one more to my liking — and though I'm her father, I must say for Sarah that she'll make you a good tvife. I can say that now, with my hand on my heart, but I couldn't say it two years — or even one year ago !" '> TA3TK VERSUS FASHION. 281 her a marriage-present of one kind or another when they called at the house to offer their congratula- tions. On their return from their Southern tour, the young couple took up their residence for the pres- ent at Mr. Fogarty's, at the opecial request of Mr*. Fogarty, and with Sarah's full consent. ■r , ji-S'-:. .•.--HI' t / '.'.[■''* i 1 ,^.J,M *■^> I * n. . .. • > \. 1,.' .1 - 1 ■: V.' '',,„ J"; \'«' t *■• ;•■■•- ^v 5^; ■• • i . :; ! «. * 1, . , il... 1. : ;;"lr ■ * '";■ :i-: "H*.'* ,; I', > l>'i~ 1. •■' 138 OLD AND NEW * OR. CHAPTER XV. THINGS IN GENERAL AND SOMETHING IN PARTIGULiS. " Why, my dear Bertha ! you look fresh and fail this morning !" said Madam Von Wiegel as she took her seat at the breakfast table about a week after we left her going down to supper with Bertha and the Hurrays; " Queen Mab must have favored you with songes couleur de rose last night." " I cannot say my dreams were so pleasant, mo- ther !'* said Bertha with a smile, " but I was up very early this morning — you know it is the 1st of May — the first day of the Month of Mary — so 1 made it a point to hear Mass, and the long walk in the fresh balmy air has, very likely, given my cheek some of the rose-tints of other days. But what note is that, mother ?" " It is from Captai» Bellew — desiring to know if we will permit him and Major Montague to have the honor of accompanying us this afternoon to the National Academy of Painting — the annual exhibi- tion is, you know, open, and our friends are desirouH of paying it a visit before they leave New York. "Mother!" eriid Bertha in atone of quiet decision, " mother ! I may as well tell you at once, what I cught to have told you before, that I will not go any- where in company with Major Montague until " :«^ ■■v^i rmr TASTE VERSUS FASHION. 289 " Until when, my dear ?" " Until I have asked him a few questions — and received satisfactory answers,'* she added with some hesitation. " Why not have asked them before now, Bertha ':'* " Because, mother ! a suitable occasion has not offered — they are question? that I cannot put with propriety, unless he himseiJL introduce the subject, and I know not that he will." "Bertha, my dear daughter!" said her mother earnestly, " when am / to have those promised revelations ?" " Before this week is out, mother !" said Bertha smiling ; " be my suspense long or short, yours must end. Do you like the flavor of this Soochong ?'* " Not so well as that delicate Young Hyson, if I dared indulge in it with safety to my nerves. But remember, Bertha !— let me see — this is Tuesday " " I shall not forget, mother ! Before Saturday night the Ides shall have come — and gone!" she added in an under tone, as if speaking to herself. Both mother and daughter were silent for some time, then Madam Von Wiegel said, but without raising her eyes : " Bertha ! there is one thing I should like to know without delay, if possible — did Robert Murray " " Declare his intentions," said Bertha, laughing as Bhe finished the sentence. " Well ! I suppose I am bound to answer frankly, mother, when you ask ma 60 seriously. He did." ":>if: .''''■'^.-' •i"^.- .. ■"J : '.* ->H •'■■>'■ r ■ fi - * ■t\ir ■ . , ' . ^1 4 ■ « ' <.- "• » , ;• 4 ■}■: ;, I > «.: V" ^i .i -, ^'-MT^ ' ■■■\ ■ ■ ■ . ■■ -,t' ^. .,1 - ■ ■ ■•';■:-./ ,'"•1 • ■: *■ ■ I .«B *» ■ 1 , . • * " ■ }AH;»./-i: ■ ■!■ 290 OLD AND NEW ; OR, "When?" " The evening before he left." "I thought so. And what answer did you give him ?" A faint blush stole over Bertha's cheek, and h Bhade of sadness clouded her beautiful features "Mother!" said she, speaking in that half-abstracted tone which denotes deep and earnest thought, " it may be that I was wrong to say it — so decidedly — but I told him I could never give him more than a sister's love, and with that he must be content." Madam Von Wiegel's countenance fell. " And what was his reply. Bertha ?" " Why, he tried to persuade me that — that I did not know my own mind with regard to him — I as- sured him I did perfectly, and begged him to con- tinue no farther a conversation that gave me pain — poor Robert !" she added with a sigh, " he bowed and made no answer, but sat looking at me a mo- ment or two with his heart in his eyes, then rising. he held out his hand, and as he raised mine to his lips, he said in a voice that I shall not soon forget: * Bertha, farewell ! God grant you may never have cause to regret this moment — may you never learn from dear experience the value of one true heart !' He was gone before I could collect my thoughts to speak, and I have never seen him since." " My heart echoes his parting prayer, Bertha !" said Madam Von Wiegel, the tears running un- lieoded down her aged cheek ; " Robert's love is TASTE VERSUS FASHION. 291 green and fresh as Spring's first blossom — his heart is unspoiled by the world's deceitful wiles, and I know that heart is all vours — his father, too. and Alica have been building such hopes — oh Bertha! how could you so crush the hearts that love you?" " I cannot — could not help it, mother !" said Ber- tha in a voice that trembled with emotion; " I never gave Robert any positive encouragement — you know 1 did not?'* Madam Von Wiegel shook her head sadly, and then changed the subject to one of less harrowing interest. She did not choose to ask why it was that Bertha could not help refusing Robert — she had a misgiving that it was somehow connected with the particulars she was so soon to learn, and she, therefore, said no more on that topic. As early as etiquette would permit Captain Bellew called at Rheinfeldt House to know whether the ladies were going to the Exhibition. He saw Madam Von Wiegel alone, and she told him, with a polite expression of regret, that as her daughter did not seem inclined to go, she had only to thank Captain Bellew for his kind attention. "Another disappointment 1" muttered trie captain, and his frank, handsome features were clouded for a moment. It was only for a moment — the next he was smiling as brightly as before, and begged to assure Madam Von Wiegel that there was no tpo.ogy required. " Of course when Miss Von Wiegel does not feel inclined to go" — there was the •lightest possible curl on his full rich lip as he said •' y ■■• .' t( • ' -V i ... *- T' •W^ M. fci'l'^ '* 1 ^B 1^ ^'^ ' * ^^1 K--' f >^M H'^''". iH V ]■ B^ .' - _ l^H ^Ki. u (^H ^B *■ ', *^M ^V " "' ' I , j^H 1 SH ^M^ "" ,, T *■«■■ ^•.•; • 4 ' ^J 'i--^ n * '' . ^ > f ' :J'- . > ■ ! t' ■ ■ ''*. V ■' - -fc ^y ^.- » »-^ -# '■ ■ m. I: » " ^ f.¥ n ", IP'>«^ I Jjkf M * ^ t 1 ' !.' tf' 292 OLD AND NEW ; OR, this — " we cannot hope for an honor which I need not say, my dear madam ! would have been a very great pleasure to us. Our stay in New York is about drawing to a close, and we are, of course, anxious to see what progress the arts are making under Brother Jonathan's paternal care before we leave. Having heard you say, madam, that you intended going to the exhibition some day this week, we hoped that our attendance might have been agreea- ble- >j " And so it would. Captain Bellew ! very agreea- ble, indeed — but " > *' But the Fates forbid it, madam !" said the captain with his sunny smile, holding out his hand at the same time. " Well ! good-bye. Madam Von Wiegel ! I shall do myself the honor of calling again before leaving — unless Jan should chance to turn crusty and refuse to open the door. Good-bye !" and away he went, laughing merrily at the latter conceit, and saying to himself as he hastened down the avenue io join the major whom he had left, as he said, to " walk his lonely round" in the vicinity of the outer gate, "I shouldn't wonder, now, if Miss Bertha * inclined' next time to refuse us admission." " Well, Gerald, how have you succeeded ?" asked Montague, stopping in his march, when his friend issued from the gate. " I've been flatly refused " On what grounds ?" " Miss Bertha does not seem inclined ! — 1 beg tht TASTE VERSUS FASHION. 291 iiady*s pardon," added Gerald, a slight degree of vexation visible in his tone and manner, " but 1 have no patience with these feminine airs !" "Feminine airs!" repeated the major with melao* choly significance, " you forget the old proverb| Gerald ! think tivice before you sjjeak once /" " Well ! I didn't exactly mean what I said in thi% case — though positively, Edgar ! I begin to think that there is no daughter of Eve entirely free from those same ' feminine airs' — but, confound it ! let that pass ! — did I ever think I should live to hear ray fastidiously-elegant friend, Major Edgar Monta- gue, the observed of all observers, ' the mould of form,* if not quite * the glass of fashion,' condescend to quote an old proverb ?" " And why not, Gerald ? we surely cannot afford to despise ' the collective wisdom of ages.' Let me observe, on the other hand, that / as little expected to hear my universally-favored and entirely amiable friend. Captain Gerald Bellew, venting any degree of spleen against the fairer portion of our race. What an anomaly — only think !" " Deuce take th3m !" said Gerald in a tone mid- VT-ay between jest and earnest — perhaps nearer the latter than the former, " I say no niure, my good &iend, than their best friends have said of them: " ' Oh ! woman, in thine hours of ease, Uncertain, coy, and hard to please.' " ** Now, that's just what I meant, too — it's the con- I « ■i.'. !i 'A.::f.- - *» I" — r^^ — TT ',» ■I, *' '■]■ ;. :ii^^ I .»■ ( , 1 ;.'i .'N i^i id >.?*'. • '"j 1 ,'■■' •.» '^-•. •'•," rl ■:•» ... .«• .^1 *' *ti^A,'* »'' 'iV .'P ' '^j.j~. Sd4 OLD AND NEW ; OB, tbuuded uncertainty attending them that makes all the trouble.'* " Yes, but in justice, my dear Gerald ! you should have finished that stanza," said Montague with hii calm smile, and he immediately added : " * When pain or sickness wrings Uie brow, A minifrteriug augkl Ihuu !' You see the great master gives both sides of the picture in those four lines — he tells you, a£ Handol does his mother : •* ' Look upon this picture — and on that' " " Well ! well ! that is not the question, now, my dear major ! — you take this matter very lightly, it seems to me, considering it in all its bearings.' " Lightly ! why surely, Gerald ! it is not, after all of such serious import ?" " Not to wie, undoubtedly," said Bellew pointedly. " I should think not, indeed," laughed Montague ** However, I have news for you, mon ami! — look here, and cease to wonder at my falling back on the collective wisdom, or any other wisdom that n*ight help one through a dilemma.*' He pointed to something in the Daily Tribuni which he had been looking over during the captain s ghort absence. " I d '< i I '■V' .-r ;?:< '• - ■ / '•. * • 1» '•' ii " ■ ■ ■«':;•■.■ : .; i.' •-•*-^'- ■ 'Mtii '«;<'',t,|-'i'* ^ . " ■..■ . "•■ r, '''■ . ; 298 OLD AND NEW } OR, " Major Montague and Captain Bellew ?*' he inquired. The two officers bowed assent, " I am very glad to meet you, gentlemen 1 very glad, indeed," said the ancient beau — " I saw by the morning papers that you were staying at the Astor House, and I did myself the honor of calling as soou as I possibly could." " The honor was to us, Sir Henry !" said Bellew speaking for both, " but who on earth would have thought of seeing you in New York ?" "Ha! ha! I thought you would be surprised," said Sir Henry with a little shrill laugh ; *' would you believe it that two weeks ago we were in Paris, planning an excursion to — I'm not sure whether it was to Arabia or the Holy Land — to visit the tomb of the Prophet or the tomb of the Saviour — both, I dare say — when all at once, after reading some let- ters one morning — you know how extensive her ladyship's correspondence is — Lady Susan took it into her head to come to America — and lo ! here we are!" He wound up with theatrical emphasis. " I see you are as active as ever. Sir Henry 1" said Montague, feeling it incumbent on him to say something. " As active as ever ! yes, and niore active than ever — how else, think you, could I keep flying round and round the globe with such an erratic planet as Lady Susan ? Why a man of less activity, and les§ energy of character would have succumbed long agr, and been laid to rest in the shade of the Pyramids. TASTE VERSUS FASHION. 299 or/' he added sentimentally, " by the blue Italian sea where Petrarch's mournful shade looks forth from Pausilippo's height. Only think, gentlemen 1 what an enviable lot to be laid for aye in a spot sacred to poesy and love, my grave bedewed by the tears of beauty !" " I heartily wish you were there now, beauty and all !" politely said Bellew in an under tone, whilst Montague drew himself up with more than his wonted reserve. " What did you say, Captain Bellew ?" inquired Sir Henry, " I am a little — a very little — hard of hearing, at times." "As if we didn't know that !" muttered the captain again with a furtive glance at his friend. " I asked you. Sir Henry ! when did you arrive? — ahem !" " Late last night, my dear sir, late last night — you see I lost no time, but, of course. Lady Susan has no idea I came now — if she had, she would by no means consent. You know how she stands on her dignity, especially with young fellows — a class of persons for whom, by-the-bye ! she entertains a sov- ereign contempt !" And the superannuated beau smiled with an extra degree of suavity as though to convey the assurance that Lady Susan*s sovereign contempt for the more juvenile lords of creation was not at all shared by Sir Henry Burke. It was no easy matter to get rid of this original knight banneret, without inflicting a very deep wound OD his sensitive vanity, but whilst our two soldieri S'; ■f' • J .' t .■ :' ' ' * t f '■ i *■ ^ ■_ i p ■ h /■ k •f4 *■'■' ^00 OLD AND NEW ; OR, i\"i '■*ir ■li^'^.t't^ ij, Vi ^.'^!» -«♦,•' ■■;■'?.- •f. ,., ■(!: «%.??, ■4, .•)■■;■ il :>.i.':& ..1"* ■>- **•„•/.; y^ [i^liSiuih .1. .«<»,•, ilf^.v ■ ' ; < -11 y were casting about in their minds how they cc nld courteously effect their escape, Sir Henry uncon sciously helped them out of the dilemma, by remem- bering all at once that he had promised Lady Susau to be back in an hour to lunch, and it was positively five minutes past the time. With a hurried good- bye he took his departure, hoping for an early re- newal of the pleasure he was then compelled ta terminate so abruptly. " A good morning, gentlemen !" Sir Henry took off his hat and bowed with the stiffness and for- mality of the old regime, " Good morning, Sir Henry !" and the two friends found themselves under the necessity of raising their beavers to return in due. form the Louis Quatarzi salute of the accomplished knight. " Confound him for an antiquated fop !" cried Bel- lew as he and Montague traversed the spacious hall together, "he always reminds me of Beau Nasli, though wanting his sense and spirit " " But to hear him speak in the same breath," said Montague, " of visiting the Holy Sepulchre and the tomb of Mahomet — surely a man of his years ought to manifest some degree of reverence for what the whole Christian world regards as sacred — the visible link between the seen and the unseen, the finite and the infinite — the standing proof of man's dearly- purchased ransom ! The tomb of the Prophet, m- deed ! — shame on the man's gray hairs !" " I wonder would it be any harm to wish/' laughed m§ ' ■:/ TASTE VERSUS FASHIOK. 801 ■'■ ■■•-" i Bellew, " that the fossil beau was suspended from the magnetic shrine of the Prophet — that is to say the mortal part of him, after Lady Susan has trotted the life out of his old body. He is such a sight- hunter when living, it strikes me he ought to be made a sight ot himself when his spirit has winged its way to realms unknown." " Fie ! fie ! Gerald !" said his graver friend, though he laughed too, " does Catholic faith permit jesting on the soul's mysterious passage to eternity ?" " Good, upon my honor !" said the gay captain in a whisper; " you know what was said of the Norman Geraldines of old in Ireland — Hibernes Hiberniorum — I think / may say of my honorable and gallant friend, 'CatJwlicus Catholicorum — but, I say, Edgar '. why don't you come out ?" " / bide my time /" was the major's curt reply, aa they entered the saJ.le a manger. About three o'clock on the following afternoon our friends were walking up the nicely-pebbled avenue to Rheinfeldt House, Bellew, as usual, free and easy, Montague silent and thoughtful. " Why so silent, friend Edgar ?" demanded the captain as they neared the steps ; " are you ru- minating on the possible contingencies of our ap* roaching Indian campaign — picturing to yourself, perchance, the hair-breadth scapes and thrilling ad- ventures to be encountered amongst the tiger- baunted jungles of Hindostan ? — seriously now, '.hia *i J '• f:..U- it i f «.> '. .' ■ " ■ ¥ ■ ■ '','■1 \ . ' ^1 ■f •«: '■■■ - '■ -:,'. ,.■«, 'If If B*fl^^ If ::*1c,^ ;^ y. 803 OLD AND NEW ; OR, order to join our regiment on its way to India ii rather unseasonable — is it not?" "How unseasonable, Gerald ? is not the soldier's life made up of such surprises, and he is ill worthy the name of soldier who Avould murmur at the or der to meet his country*s foes ?" "Ow/- country's foes !" said Bellew with unwonted seriousness, "where are they? not in India, assur- edly, or yet in China? Ah, Edgar! it is, after all an anomalous position, that of Irish gentlemen draw ing the sword in England's quarrel — riveting those chains on other nations which weigh so heavily on our own." " Why, Bellew ! you seem to forget that you are a British officer," said Montague with a half smile. " I do ttot forget that I am a British officer," re- sponded Bellew, " nor shall I, while I hold her Ma- jesty's commission, but I cannot forget, and do not wish to forget, that I was an Irishman and a Catholic before I was a British officer.'* His hand was on the bell as he said these words, and in a moment Tan's imperturbably grave visage presented itself in nswer to the summons. " Are the ladies at home, Jan ?" "Yah, meinherr, they're in the green parlor." The green parlor was opened accordingly and tlio gentlemen ushered in. Madam Von Wiegel greeted them with her usual kindly courtesy, but Bertha merely acknowledged their salut'a and bent ber eyea ;i'i, ' 9\^r;: TASTE VERSUS FASHIOV. 808 again on a paper she had been reading. The gentle* men exchanged meaning glances. " You seem much interested in that paper, Miss Von Wiegel," observed the captain. " May I ven- ture to ask is there news of the — st U. S. Infantry ?" " Not that I am aware of, Captain Bellew !" said Bertha with quiet composure, but without raising her eyes. " Well, we have had news this morning of our gallant — th." *' Indeed ?" asked both ladies simultaneously. "And of what nature?'* continued the elder. " Nothing very particular," said Bellew gaily, " except that the regiment is under orders for India, and we to join it at Malta by the end of the montli." Montague turned his eyes on Bertha — she was still looking at the paper on the table before her, but there was a deep red spot burning on either cheek, and a tremulous motion about the lips that told of some inward emotion deeper perchance than words could express. At this moment a loud ring came to the hall-door and Jan made his appearance with " a lady wantt to see Madam or Miss va-ry per-tick-lar.' " Where is she, Jan ?" said Bertha, rising. " I showed her into the parlor." Bertha stepped lightly across the hall, perhaps wondermg who the lady could be, perhaps thinking of the Indian insurrection, and the possible share f bo -th wa8 to have i^i its suppression, or perhaps -f<',i. ■■ * i ,< »i ,M mmm' '■ J >• 'I ^J! .'■:•,•. «^ V .(>• i;v * 1 i . I ». I > 1 .S' 1 W-J '■' i' s ■ ^ (.;: f, ••^^t K.^'^^^^i^n 8G4 OLD AND NEW ; OR, of some great item of news, that had riveted horat* tention in the morning paper — at last she opened the parlor door and walked in. A middle-sized lady of rather genteel appearance and dressed in the tip of the fashion rose to meet her, which she did with consummate ease. " Good morning I" said Miss Von Wiegel, " prty be seated !" " Thank you ! I shall be going presently !" Miss Von Wiegel knew not what to say, so she waited patiently. " I called, madam ! to show you some specimens of a new article just invented (my husband holds the patent) for taking stains or grease-spots out of silks, velvet, cotton or woollen goods, carpets, hall-papers, mahogany or rosewood furniture, also extracting ink or other stains from marble slabs or mantel- pieces," &c., V * ■ ■' '» '• 'U-' / 1 - » ••♦;■' !■ ■ 4 , '■ ♦In. Ml ' >.■ ,'!■< : ■xii.^'w: ::i?«' ^1 »■?. ^'- iJ,-) »■.■?» -'i ". Y* ^ • i ■ 806 OLD AND NEW ; OR, "Shall we make the sacrifice?" questioned Bellew gaily of his friend, "or — let the visit go?" "The latter we cannot do," said the major with his cold, calm smile, " our time in New York, you know, is counted, we may say, by hours !" " True," said the captain, but yet " " Will you spend the evening with us, then ?' asked the lady of the house. " With the greatest pleasure, Madam Von Wie- gcl" — " If we possibly can," replied the two gentle- men, one with frank cordiality, the other with stately courtesy. " We must not be too selfish, mother !'* said Bertha with a mocking smile and a contemptuous curl of the lip that were only caught by one pair of eyes ; " we have really had more of the gentlemen's company than, under the circumstances, we had a right to expect," and she bowed them out with a freezing civility that utteHy astounded Captain Bellew. i " I say, Montngue ! can your flesh and blood bear that? Upoi my word and honor, mine can't! Endurance, like other virtues, may be carried too far. If you catch me again within range of hcf ladyship's fire, my name is not Gerald Bellew ! I •oU you she has no heart, Edgar Montague ! and you may find that to your cost with all your boasted stoicism !" Montague's answer was lost to his friend's ear, for they both turned at the moment, hearing some* .^■Z "^f TASTE VERSUS FASHION. 801 body puffing and blowing in hot pursuit. It wai Jan, and they stopped till he came up. *' Well ! Jan, what's the matter?" "Meinheer Major — I mean Montag — Monta-gue! * laid he putting a small parcel in the hand of the gentieman so indicated, " Miss Bertha's compli- ments wiih this !" And Jan moved away almost as hastily as he came. Impatient to see what Miss Von Wiegel had sent with so much dispatch, Montague unfolded the parcel and saw — a handkerchief marked with his own initials. He put his hand in his pocket — his handkerchief was there, and a deep flush crimsoned his cheek and brow. "A handkerchief!'* said Belle w in surprise; " what does that mean ?'* "Why, it means that my memory is not always BO good as Miss Von Wiegel seems to suppose." "Oh! you forgot your handkerchief ! — I protest I thcnght it was a parting gift." " i& may serve for that, too," laughed the major, Kid ^ere the matter ended for that time. 4 ■ ■ i0'-'. i*:: ' ^ '■ 308 OIJ> AND NEW : OB, ■'■' /•»^■i:/'..i.' ■'■"1 '!»''■ ^■V '■p^f^ ^:^ If ,'• ait '';i ■'. J,.;. ■»'■-■- • ", . '"■ ' J - ; '♦ ■ ■ ■■» CHAPTER XVI. k WEDDING — GOING TO SARATOGA, AND WHAT's IN A MAME Mrs. Gallagher and her daughters were in no enviable frame of mind, as may be supposed, after the discovery at Taylor's. Peace was utterly ban- ished from the house, for one was throwing the blame on another, and it was nothing from morning till night but hinting, and cutting, and bitter recrimi- nation. Tom himself was the only one that main- tained his wonted equanimity, for as he had had no share in the Green and Brown humbug, and had never given those gentlemen of color any sort of encouragement, so the general discomfiture of the family gave him very little trouble. Indeed, if truth must be told, Tom was rather pleased than other- wise, that Green and Brown had turned out as they did, hoping that the lesson might not be lost on his better (though certainly not wiser) half, and the girls. Poor Tern Gallagher ! in his honest, manly independence and guileless simplicity of heart, he little knew the hold that vanity and its cousin-ger- man " toadyism" have on the hearts o." some, and his own family amongst the rest. So let him dream, in blissful ignorance, till sad experience tears the veil from stern reality The great object of anxiety to th« feminine portion of the household was to TASTE Versus FASHION. 309 keep their ludicrous disappointment from the ears of their acquaintances. McConoghy boing the only actual witness, they applied themselves to conciliate him, in order to induce him to keep the secret. Mi*s. Gallagher went so far as to request Tom to speak to him about it, and urge upon him the dis- grace it would bring on the whole family if the story got abroad. " You know, Tom dear I " said she, " we'll be the laughing-stock of the city — at least the girls will, and they're the wo . t " " The city, indeea ! " said Tom interrupting her ; " much the city knows about our affairs ! " '* Well ! we 1 ! you know I don't mean the whole city, but every one that knows us even by name. I tell you, Tom, you must speak to McConoghy, and get him to say nothing about it to any one — if you don't we'll be ruined out and out, that's all, and need never show our faces anywhere 1 " " Well ! I'm sure you took pains enough to show your faces everywhere with Mr. Green and Mr. Brown," remarked Tom ; " so you can hardly expt'ct the thing to be kept secret — besides all the people that used to meet them here, and see you and the girls making so much of them, will be for findmg out what's become of them. I don't see any use there is in saying anything about it to McConoghy."" "I tell you there is use," said Mrs. Gallagher em. phatically, '* and you must do it — that's all about it, nowl" . , . : tf: ^-*;P'>l ^li i^' .: 810 OLD AND NEW ; OB, ■•■■ vr..^^-?; -^, ■>:^3 . . ^• ,» '■' < ' ".'■ }m^ .' 1 ' i ■ : ■ > 1 1 .\ n.-. •"'J/ .; " i " Very good,*' said Tom, " if I must, I must !" And he walked away with his good-humored smile, perhaps a little malicious on that occasion. Fanny, it must be confessed, was very active all this time in that ungracious domestic avocation vul- ga"ly called keeping the house in hot water. Unlike her father, she did not attempt to conceal her satis- faction at the denouement of the Green and Brown affair, and she certainly let no opportunity slip of sending it home to Mag and EUie. In her mother's presence, she had grace enough to avoid the obnox- ious subject, after receiving a formal and not very gentle prohibition from the maternal progenitor; but when her mother's back was turned, she made her tongue and temper ample amends for the restraint put upon them. Annie and Janie were not slow to take advantage of so good an opportunity for teaz- ing Mag and EUie, and were quite willing to do their part in keeping the ball (of discord) hopping, as the old plrase has it. It is hardly necessary to say that Mag and Ellie, being girls of spirit, did not keep their mouths shut on such occasions, so that every room in No. 66, from garret to collar, was occasionally the scone of a nice little vocal tourna- ment between the several daughters of the house of Gallagher, during the two or three weeks superven- ing on the memorable visit to Ta.ylor*s. All this time Fanny was secretly buoying herself up with the assurance that McConoghy was rea«1y to her hand whenever she ohose to give him tha TASTE VERSUS FASHION. 311 flegree of encouragement necessary for popping the question. But McConoghy was not forthcoming on all occasions for the exercise of Miss Gallagher's condescension; his visits began strikingly to resem- ble those of angels as described by the poet, being decidedly " few and far between," whereat Miss Fanny wondered exceedingly, and Miss Ellie and Miss Mag rejoiced beyoad measure, telling their elder sister with more truth than politeness that " McConoghy was too old a bird to be caught with chaff, and was going off to pick up grain elsewhere." Miss Fanny's own misgivings took the same di- rection, but of course she took the best of care not to say so, contenting herself at first with a sly smile and a peculiarly significant nod, as much as to say : " Talk ae you will — I know how that stands !" — as time wore on, however, and the days of McCo- noghy*8 absence glided into weeks, the " nods and winks and wreath'd smiles" one by one disappeared and Miss Gallagher's ordinary reply to any sisterly inuendo, or open taunt concerning the missing indi vidual, was a highly contemptuous toss of the head, which, being interpreted, meant "much about him! — as if I cared wheie he goes!" By Mag and Ellie Mr. McConoghy was declared " a gone ccon," as far as sister Fan was concerned. Things were in this state at No. 66 when the news of Sarah Hackett's approaching nuptials came upon the young ladies and their mother with stunning effect — quite an electric shock to the wh<>le circle. '■•. .hi ' '»if*& .•.'■5r7- T'l • -t . ' ■ 'iii\':i. * "'^■:.. " 'V^v H ; Now Edward Fogarty — the best-looking and mo ^ gentlemanly of the three brothers, would have be^ n a desirable match for the most fastidious of the Mins Gallaghers, and that tattling gossip dame Rumor jad more than once given broad hints that some of them were setting their caps at him — a manifest fib as regarded the caps, though perhaps true enough as to the setting — but however it happened, Edward always managed to keep a civil distance with the Gallagher girls, and had been known to say more than once thjit if it were not for Tom hims3lf bo would never set foot in the house ; moreover, tbat Tom was worth a ship-load of the wife and daugh- ters put together. But this was, of course, under the rose, and was not positively known to the Miss Gallaghers, though they might possibly have sus- pected some feeling of the kind on the part of hand- some Edward Fogarty. What, then, must have been their chagrin and mortification when assured beyond all possibility of doubt that Edward was soon to lead to the altar of Hymen their former next-door neighbor, Sarah Haokett, a girl who had neither fortune noi- position like the Miss Gallaghers. Sarah Hackett of all peo- ple ! — that hadn't a dollar to get ! — why, to the Miss Gallaghers' knowledge — and :;his galvanic shock amalgamated them all again — Sarah Hackett never had a dress on her back that cost over seventy-five cents a yard ! ! — the Hacketts indeed ! why they never gave a party in all their life, and were hardlj r-'/tM ^1; 1 ViV, ./ ■•"■;',. TASTE VERSUS FASHION. 313 ever at one ! — well ! strange things were coming to pass, that was certain ! " 'Tis strange, 'tis passing strange, 'tis wonderful !" But alas! "tis true, and pity 'tis, *tis true.' Let fashionable people wonder ever so much at Edward Fcgarty's odd taste, there were the facts staring them full in the face that the day was appointed, the bridal dresses in the hands of Miss Waldron, and the wedding-cake ordered — they really didn't know but what the ring was bought ! — yes ! yes ! to be sure it was, for Edward Fogarty was seen by no less a person than Lil Smith in a jeweller's shop in Broadway. These preliminary facts duly verified, the Misses Gallagher and Co. speedily arrived at the conclusion that Edward Fogarty was iw great things after all — if he wasn't an odd fish, and a very odd fish, too, he'd never have thought of taking Sarah Hackett — every one knew that, and for the reason that ever since she set the house on fire she was a regular dowdy, a perfect old grandmother! On these and other such premises, the young ladies of that vicinity grounded their verdict as aforesaid, and proved to their own apparent satisiaction that there was nothing to regret on their parts in the pending matrimonial alliance between the Hacketts and the Fogartys. Nevertheless, they all showed more anxiety to see how the wedding would go otf than an aftair of so Utile importance would seem to warrant; sundry visits of (covert) inquiry were madtj to Miss Waldron with a view to ascertain what sort -' 'C- i % * , « WCWWT v^ ■•V' ■« il^ BBBM? 6 • '^ >■ i , ' ' «' r'^'L,:,;-: "is* 814 OLD AND NKW 1 OR, the dressee were to be — what the bride was to wear — whether Aune and Mary were having silk dresses, and if so, what color, tfec, ifec., &c. But Miss Waldron, as our readers may remember, was a very sagacious individual, with quite a largu €hare of those valuable qualities prudence and com- mon sense ; she had little desire, therefore, to gra tify the itching ears of our fair news-hunters, and being fully on her guard against their prying curi- osity, sustained the cross-examination so well that the several visitors left her dwelling little the wiser for their visit, much dissatisfied with their soant measure of success, and in very bad humor with *' that provoking Miss Waldron." When it became known that no invitations wero issued for the wedding, the murmurs of discontent burst at once into a storm of indignation, mingled, of course, with contempt. It was declared on all hands that it was " real mean of the Hacketts" — but, then, what better could be expected? — every- body knew what they were, and so forth, ad in^nitu?n. Now this was hardly fair on the part of the Gal- laghers, at least, seeing that v/hen they had a wed- ding at their house, the Hackett family were not honored with an invitation, next-door neighbors an they were. The Gallagher ladies were still suffering from tho double and treble wounds inflicted by the transfor- mation of Sarah Hackett into Mrs. Edward Fogarty, when their Sister) Mrs. Samuel C, in her great sis '■.it' i^< 9fi 'mi - *."•■ TASTK VERSUS FASHION 815 terly kindness, presented them with a little nephew, and in due time, of course, with a grand christening. This event, with the bustle and excitement attending thereon, and the no small importance of having such a novel affair to manage, entirely drew off the young ladies* attention from the wedding, and (for the time being) all other sublunary concerns. The very naming of the child was a matter of all-absorbing in- terest, aud was not decided upon until a family council was called for the momentous occasion, from which council was formed a speciM committee, con- sisting of the lady members of the united families. The young father had intimated a wish that the boy should be called Thomas -William, in honor of the two grandsires, but this proposition was con- temptuously set aside, and after long and earnest deliberation (on the part of the ladies, as before in- dicated), the infant scion of the house of Fogarty was presented at the baptismal font, and thence taken bearing the imposing patronymic of Herbert- William-Thomas-Samuel Fogarty. Some would have had George -Washington superadded, but thia was overruled, and the name stood as above on the baptismal register. The delightful bustle attending the christening of Mister Herbert W. T. S. Fogarty was scarcely over uhen Mrs. Gallagher and her three eldest unmarried (laughters set out for Saratoga, die preparations for that great event having been for some three or font weeks previ'.ms progressing in the skilful hands oi ■••-•": T .viv ■ it - ■ r. A ■ » ■(■.'■ v-^?... ■■'■ 1, t 816 OLD AND NEW ; OR J If- • I » •» ♦ I - :'i: t ■ ■ 't *? .. ^ • V ■* V*V^ >••:■! -?v :*- ft ■■"■ ' ^ " '■ '■..'/ ■ . Miss Waldron, aided by her efficient staff of more juvenile practitioners in the art viodiste. It would but weary the reader to enumerate the contents of tho nii- merous trunks, packing-cases and bandboxes (the hit ter made to order by the tinsmith), that were conveyed to Saratoga from the residence of Mr. Thomas Gal- lagher, all duly marked in very conspicuous charac- ters, by the careful hands of Atty Garrell, " Mrs. T. Gallagher, United States Hotel, Saratoga." Suffice it to say that in those repositories of fashion there were robes cle ch(r>nbre, robes de matinee (worn as breakfast dresses in fashionable life), dinner-dresses, evening-dresses, walking-dresses, sleeping-dresses (why not?), together with basques, sacques, ovcr- ekirts, hats (meaning bonnets), and gipsy flats (meaning hats) in any number, all of the rarest and most r^c/icrcA/ materials in their several kinds. Then there was a brace of boxes of French kid gloves, as- sorted colors, and a valuable stock of laces and pocket-handkerchiefs, with all the other costly trifles that go to make up the toilet of a New York fashionable lady. Much serious discussion arose as to whether the carriage and horses were to be taken or not, but against that Tom set his face in tot.o^ and planted his foot firmly, too, on the ground of opposition, saying with his usual good sense that the ladies might do for a few weeks without the carriage, and that it would be a ridiculous thing for them to be taking it with them all the way to Saratoga, and the iron" m tastr versus fashion. 317 grays and Peter into the bargain. At first thero was some grumbling on the part of the girls, and Mrs. Gallagher herself seemed hard to convince that the turn-out must be left at home. "Dear me, Ellen !" says Tom at last, " how would you do if you hadn't it at all ? Maybe if you had it with you, it's what you'd be getting it put on the hotel-books, as they say one of our New York moneyed men did a few years ago at liockaway. Wouldn't it read well on the books : ' Mrs. T. Gal- Uigher, New York^ Jive daughters — man-servant^ car riage and pair of horses 1 — eh, Ellen ?' " Tom's laugh was not echoed by his wife or daugh- ters — they were too angry at the notion of being compared to such an ignoramus as the moneyed man aforesaid to acknowledge the joke even by a smile. They saw, however, that, for once. Pa was deter- mined, and as Pa's funds were to be largely drawn on, it was judged wiser to let the carriage remain at home, and, moreover, to give np the point with as good a grace as might be. " But I tell you what, Tom Gallagher, said hig spouse in a half jest, whole earnest tone, '' let it be where it is till we come back — unless you take Eliza and the baby out now and then for a ride. No mm- of your tricks, mind! or you and I'll not be friends." "What tricks do you mean?" said Tom very innocentlv. " What tricks do I mean? — you know well enough what tricko I mean ! As if I didn't hear all aboul • « ,1. ■ < ^> ., 5J. < •<•':«( f, ■'/.% . '- .y : •■ 5 ■• ; '? f J^lfiil;!^'^'' ' .)'. t ":>..:' .« •■' 7"-> ;: < 518 OLD AND NEW ; OR, your driving out with Mister Atty Garrell, no less, when you got our backs turned ! — ay ! and beiori; ever we set our foot in our own carriaije." Mu (•) •whispered Fauny in a tone of strong admonition, and immediately Mrs. Gallagher's rising angir cooled down, and she wound up with a little forced cackling laugh : " Well ! I know it was for want of a thought you did it — but you know Atty Garrell in no companion for you, especially in your own car- riage -and so we'll say nothing about it — for good- ness' sake, Tom ! don't be making so little of your- self and us! — respect yourself, Tom! and the world ■will respect you !" Tom, well pleased to get off" so easily, was dis- posed to promise anytiiing and everything, and so was left in charge of the carriage, with permission, as before mentioned, to take himself and Mrs. S. C. and Master Herbert — or, as he was already de- signated, " Hebby" — out for an airing. Mr. S. C. was, of course, included in the privilege, when that young gentleman felt inclined to avail himself thereof. It was a subject of eome regret that Mrs. Sara could not accompany her mother and sisters to Sara toga, but, of course, it was not I'j be thought of under the circumstances, as Master Hebby would have made but a sorry travelling companion, and his mother couldn't think of going anywhere with " a equalling baby," as she rather contemptuously styled her first-born. TASTE VERSUS FASHION. 819 When Tom found himself in quiet possession of the house, with a certain Ally Brady, an ancient spinster, a cousin of Mrs. Gallagher's, for house- keeper pro toUf he cheerily resolved to make himself at home and comfortable during the absence of the ladies. To that end, taking time by the forelock, he invited his neighbor Mr. Fogarty, John McCo« noghy, Henry Hackett, and, as a matter of course, Atty Garrell, to " smoke a cigar" with him the very first evening he had the house to himself Now Tom Gallagher was, in his way, an excellent enter- tainer, and when, as on the present occasion, he could do things just as he liked, his heart expanded with genial warmth, and he felt exuberantly happy in the company of his " chosen few." "Why didn't you bring Michael, Henry?" said he to Henry Hackett, busying himself at the same time in arranging on the table certain accompani- ments for the cigar to which he had respectively invited his friends. ♦' And who'd mind the store if I did ?" inquired Henry. " You know it won't mind itself* " Of course not, Henry, but couldn't you close a little earlier for one night ?" " I could if I had my fortune made like you of Mr. Fogarty here, but dear knows when that will be." " Maybe it's not so far off as you think," observed William H. " What about the lot of sugar you were looking aftei ?" •< n«' '..■'/■ i ; V J' ' » :'.''•■? . ,{ fi::-^^ •SI* ■.?,S >^'':,-. 'J' •■>>' • r . ■■ '1.' ''*-,■**■ ■' iiiii^-:^" •^i. 4 :^*' ."* ■■■.» 'if-'-' .*■' 1^20 OLD AND NEW ; OR, " Didn't get it, Mr. Fogarty ! didn't get it, sir '." and Henry shock his head dejectedly. " Why, how was that, man, did you go to McKeon?" " I did, then, but he couldn't do anything for mo, at least he said so." " And did you tell him / was willing to go security ?" " Of course I did, sir !' " Well ! and what did he say ?" " Oh ! he said he knew you very well, and couldn't wish for any better security, but he had promised the sugar to Lindsay in street and, of course, couldn't break his word — and so he wished me good morning, and I had to walk out." " Ay ! that's the way with them all," said William H. shaking the ashes from his cigar, " the rich man will get a chance where the poor, struggling man won't. And the v/orst of it is when it's your own countryman that has it in his power to do you a good turn, and won't do it. Now, just think of that, Tom ! — there's Dan McKeon and he had the Belling of that cargo of sugar, — poor Hackett here wanted to get some, and as it was to be sold in lots, he thought he had a good chance of laying in what would do him for some time. He had about half the money for what he wanted, and I told him I'd go security for the other half, for Dan and I had many a dealing in our time, and he knows how I stand as well as any one But you see he wouldn't V ■•«■?- TASTE VERSUS FASHIOW. 321 throw the bargain in Henry's way, even to oblige me, but must give it to that Lindsay ihat^s as rich as a Jew. Now a'nt it too bad ?" " Bad I" repeated Tom, " why it's shamelul, bui unluckily it's nothing new.*' Here John McConoghy made his appearance, and being questioned by Tom as to why he didn't come earlier, responded with: " Why didn't yau come to the meeting ? — I thought I'd see you all there !" " Why, what's up now ?" said Tom Gallagher. " What's up now ! Well ! you're a nice man for a citizen ! — maybe you don't know either that Ro- land McFustian is expected out in the next steamer?'* " Well ! and what if he is ?" " Why, he's going to get a public reception, to be sure ! — hand me over a cigar, Tom ! will you ?** " A public reception !" said William H. " And what for, John ?" " As if / could answer tJiat question ! — I guess for what all the McFustians get receptions for in New fork. It's a sign you didn't read the papers this morning or you'd know all about the great McFus- tian — why his name was at the top of the first col- umn in every one of the Dailies in extra-large capi- tals — Expected arrival of the illustrious patriot^ McFus- tian I Public reception ! Great preparations — Torch- light procession — Grand serenade! Hurrah! three cheers for McFustian ! God save the President !'* And John waving his cigar over his shoulder with '1 (. « r i; 1 p h "»*,«' .■,--'»"l 822 OLD AND NEW ; OR, I"*" " ■„.,■ •••-;•.■ ■'-'"■;,• t ■' ' .■'■». > !> ', r, '^ ■ well-feigned enthusiasm, the lighted end came di rectly in contact with Atty Garrell's somewhat lanlc side-locks, which might have caught the elcctiio gpark had they not been oiled with extra care on that momentous occasion. As it was Atty was quite flurried, and made a lit tie exclamation expressive of nervous trepidation : " Dear me, Mr. McConoghy ! you came near poking your cigar in my eye !** " Bless my soul, Atty !" cried John turning quickly on his seat, and, as it were, very much in earnest, " you a'nt scorched, are you ?" Atty, slightly ruffled by the obstreperous laughter of Tom, and the quieter but no less hearty merri- ment of William H., answered rather tartly : " If I a'nt, I needn't thank you, Mr. McConoghy ! — I guess you paid a visit to the Pewter Mug* after your McFustian meeting !" " Come, come, Atty ! never mind !" said McCo- Doghy slapping him vigorously on the shoulder, " I didn't mean to make a goose of you, though I believe I did singe you a little." *■ But what about McFustian ?'* inrjuired William H. "To be sure we all saw thp great flourish about him in the Herald this morning, but, then, ♦ The " Pewter Mug" is a sort of appendage to the famoua Tamtoany Hall — a council-room, as it were, whither the chief men, or wire-pullers, are won^ to retire from the noie and publicity of the larger establishment to discuss their private plans, and such other matters as pewter mugs are wont to fur« (•ish on Bttcb occasioDS. TASTE VERSUS FASHION 32a Heralds are greut blowers, you know, and alwayf blowing somebody's trumpet, so I didn't pay much attention. What did McFustian do ?" " Faith, I never heard •!' the man before,*' said Tom looking up with great naivete from the jug of punch he was skilfully preparing. Tom, it may bo seen, was not much given to the reading of news- papers. "Well!" said McConoghy, " Roland hasn't done much, that's a fact — but he has made a great noise, and that's all the same now-a-days. He was first among the Chartists in England, and helped Fergus O'Connor to kick up a dust there — after that he went to Hungary to help the Magyars— lastly, he was out with Smith O'Brien and the ress of them at Slievenamon, and knocked down a police- man with a blow of his fist. I don't know what all he did since — but he's coming out here to seek his fortune like every one else, and, of course, he must have a reception — they say he's a wonderful great hand at making a speech.'* " And old Tammany is going to take him up ?'* asked Mr. Fogarty. " To be sure, to be sure ; we have chartered a steamboat, or I think two of them, to meet him down below the Narrows, each with a brass band on board, and escort him up to the city ; then all the trades are to march, and I believe the Mayor aud the Common-Council, and there's to be speeches in the City Hall, and the troops are to turn out- >1 )) ■ i f. 1 ».• '' ■''^■■^\^^^ '• (i- i--r.VAJ^ 1 . . ^ : lif . 324 OiO AND NEW ; OR, >. .'>■ U-'- - ^ '■:'.i> -^ ■ ■ ; < .■v.?w,-.^ i» » ' -\ r, ^ . V, ^' ■■": •. ; ■■.;^ -1 ■ ''; ■'■' ; ,.-,V-,-^- •*.v , : ■•* v*'**",'* - , , ." '-.''.- ■■- ( ' . •V : ■2i •; \j,ir*s,^ .-: 4. ; ■• .<■,< ,1 ■J mk ■":■ -;^, li?'- •• iTY*' < ^4 {■i'^^^i ji : ■A, \ :< ' V ^i^^{^:i ' Nonsense, man ! you don't mean to say they're all to turn out ?" cried Tom incredulously. " Well ! not all, I believe, but some of them are I know for certain, and the police, too——" " A fine chance for the rogues and rowdies," timidly suggested Atty. " And the firemen are to have a torchlight pro- cession in the evening, and I'm not sure whether there's to be fireworks or not, but I know the Tam^ many folk are going to give him a dinner, and they say there's three or four judges, and I don't know bow many other high-up gentlemen, all vieing with each other who'll have him for a guest." " God help us !" said Tom, who had just been holding a consultation at the room-door sotto voce with Ally Brady — " God help us ! and the city and Tammany Ilall are going to all them rounds about a fellow that has never done anything but make speeches " " And wasn't that a great deal, Tom f" said Wil- liam H. with caustic humor; "why, only for hira and the like of him, you and I, and all the rest of the world would go to sleep and sleep till doomsdaj;. It does the world good to be poked up once in a while, like the wild beasts in the menagerie — there would be no fun, at all, in going to see them if the keeper didn't come along now and then and stir them up. The McFustians are the greatest people out, for they keep us all alive galloping round and round on their hobbies " . TA31E VERSUS FaSHIOX 825 " On their hobbies, Mr. Fogarty, how is that ?" Tom Gallagher never dealt in metaphor himself, and was sometimes at a loss to understand those who did. " Why, you see, Tom !" said William H. setting his head knowingly on one side, " there's peopl* that walk a-foot through the world — plain people like ourselves here — stop a bit! I know what you're going to say, but I tell you, you're one of the pedes- trians if you had fifty carriages — well! there's others that's always mounted on some conceit or notion of their own — that'b what we call a hobby, Tom, — and there they go, as I said, galloping back and forth, up and down, at the rate of a hunt, content a^ long as they get people to look and listen, and knowing no more than a blind bat what they're driving at or where the hobby will carry them — for all the world like the phooka we used to hear so much about in our early days. Now the beauty of it is, that your hobby-riders have no respect, at all. for other peo- ple's hobbies, but dash on and on, trampling down all before them, and what's worse than all, they're not content with riding tho hobby themselves but must have other people mount, too, and gallop n way as they do — whatever road their phooka is pleased to take, nothing will serve them but the rest of the world must follow suit. Do you understand, now?'* This question being of general application was an- swered individually after the manner peculiar to each. -. ' - . .«•'■.■ < :i^. '1 ^ . 1.' ■ , .. *' » ■ .»■■ •..*.■ ■■'''A ■'■ '■ . ?/•, iii ■■•'' • ' ■■ w-t- :'v . .*; ■"'if''. I ■ ■;■■'• " ', ■ •'• hi*' ^''>* '■*... |'.i-5'>'''j-' f.iw ' ' ■ 1 ■ .■«',,'■■ 326 OLD AND NEW ; OR, Tom nodded, and said: "Of course, we lo, Mr. Fogarty !" McConoghy laughed, and, taking his cigar from his mouth, exclaimed : " I'm thinking there's few but rides some hobby or another !'' while Atty smiled a wintry, watery smile, and said : ** Very good, Mr. Fogarty ! very good, indeed, sir!'' " But to speak seriously," resumed William H., " these public receptions are come to be a great farce — at least here in New York. They're so com- mon now that nobody cares a thing about them. I remember when I came out here first — let me see — thirty years ago — ay ! and for long after, a publio reception in New York was worth something — it really was, — because, you see, it was only given to men that had done something to deserve such an honor. Everything was conducted, too, in a dif- ferent way from what it is now, and the whole affair was grand — but now every fellow that has made a little noise in the world or got up a row anywhere under the sun in the name of Liberty — which with a good many of them means dosh and buncumb — or has raised a dust at home or abroad as he dashed along on his phooka-hobby — oh, of course, he must have a reception in New York, and the whole city is on tip-toe to get a look at him. Now, go no farther than MoFustian. "What earthly good has that fellow done ? He has made a groat many flourishing speeches, to be sure — (you see I know more about him than I pretended, John !) — but what if he has ? — I tell you he's nothing better than a big TASTE VERSUS FASHION. 82T K- windbag, puffing himself out like the frogs in the fiible to make a great man of himself — which lie can't do, for nature didn't do it for him — and it's ten chances to one if he don't burst as the frog did, and make a holy show of himself, and a fori of the whole city, when he's here a wliile on his own shifts. Such things have happened before, and may happen again. I wonder will our great city ever come to the years of discretion, or learn to profit by ex- Mei'ience ?'* Whether or no we'll drink to it's prosperity," said the host, " it's a first-rate place for a man to make a living, if he only knows now." The propo- bitioD was hailed with acclamation, and duly car* ried out. • ) ,. . , *V I^x:^^*'«vt'. i?:--. -5* ,• 828 OLD AND NEW \ OB, V '^ ' •/■ CHAPTER XVII. RELATING CUIEFLY TO THE PAST. *' •« . . J* *' ' ■ (ft .'•*'■ I ,- '-i DiNN£S was ove- that day at Rheinfeldt House, the qxxiet tete-a-tete '^ nner, qmeter even than usual, for Madam Von W < ' and her daughter were both more eilent than \ *r wont, each apparently busy with her own thoughts. They left the dinner- table with the dessert untasted, much to Betty's annoyance, for it so happened that she had succeeded to a marvel in a delicate dish oiblanc mange of which the ladies were fond, and had, moreover, a choice display of what fruit the season could afford. It was very mortifying, no doubt, and Betty grumbled exceedingly, and vented her spleen on Jan as the only legitimate object within reach, telling him with marked emphasis that " it was easy seen where the odd ways came from, and, indeed, there couldn't much else but odd ways com-j from the same art." "Whether Jan understood the drift of the allusion or not, he was fain to appear as though the latter were the case, and nodded unqualified assent as perforfx he should. The ladies, meanwhile, took a turn in the garden, then placed themselves on a rustic seat in the back piazza, and talked of many things, of everything, indeed, save and except the one that was uppermost TASTK VERSUS FASHION. 321 in the minds of both. The old ancestral castle by the Rhine and the smiling Rhenish vineyards, the wild traditions connected with the rocks and lulls and valleys of that storied region, the old-world manners and customs found in perfection amongst the Rhineland peasants, and lastly, the merits and demerits of Balwer's "Pilgrims of the Rhine." all these were in turn discussed, some with affectionate remembrance. Then, by a natural transition, fond memory passed to Castle Mahon, and the grand old pile rose before them, its turrets gilt with " the light of other days," and its halls peopled with the dead and distant. And Bertha told her mother of plea- sant excursions in the neighborhood, through " deep- vallied Desmond," and St. Finbar's lovely isle in lone Qougane Barra Where Allua of songs rushes forth as aa arrow." " I, too," said Bertha fixing her eyes on the «jun'8 slanting rays where they lay in golden splendor on the soft green of the garden alleys ; " I, too, have stood at early morn and at dewy eve and watched the shadows of the tall mountains sleeping on thf\ lake, and dreamed of fairy palaces in those quiet depths where the peace denied to mortals here on earth might perchance be found," — she paused a mo- ment, then repressed a sigh that was struggling up- wards from her heart, and went on with nervous rapidity : " Yes, my dear mother, we have stood^ hat is, .fhave stood i :. '»'*» ;>■ ''■:■.! ..».*■ ... ;* :'..(= 830 OLD AND NEW \ 0?., " Where grows the wild-a*^, and a time-stricken willotr Looka chidingly down on tlie mirth of the billovr ; As, like some i»ny child, that sad moi»itor scorning, Ii ligliily Iaugli8 bdck to iha lau^li of ihe morning."* The stnile faded from her lip, and the glow of pleasurable remembrance from her cheek as she thought of " the love-lighted eyes that hung over the wave," when last she looked forth on the fairy scene. She asked herself how much of the exqui- site charm of tliat well-remembered scene of lonely beauty was due to the companionship she then en- joyed, and she m'r'uured to herself " Ah, true it is iliHt the best charms of nature imiirove Wlien we see them reflected from looks that we love.' And just as true " ' That oft even joy is unheeded and lost For want of some heart tbat can echo it near.* " " Bertha, my dear !" said her mother, who had been watching the rapid change? of her mobile fea- tures, with absorbing interest, " Bertha, my dear ! you seem almost to forget the present in your rapt devotion to the past." " I can never forget you^ mother, present or past," said Bertha with a smile of ineffable affection. " But, hark ! is not that a horse coming up the avehw^ ?" It was, and Bertha hastening, in advance of her mother, reached the front piazza in time to welcome * J. J. Callanan. ■"^TT- TASTE VERSUS FASHION. 831 Robert Murray, who was just throwing himself from his horse. " Why, Robert — Robert Murray," said Berlha with unfeigned cordiality, " can it be you back so soon ? Welcome, a thousand times welcome !" Poor Robert — his first impulse was to clasp Ber- tha to his heart, in the blissful illusion of her evi- dent joy on seeing bim, but, alas ! a moment — half a moment, recalled to his mind the saddening thought that it was only as a sister he was to regard her, and with a sigh that went to Bertha's heart, he took her hand and raised it respectfully to his lips, then dropped it as though it were lead, and turned to greet her mother, who had just made her ap- pearance. " Why, Robert, my dear fellow !" said Madam Von Wiegel with heart-warm kindness, " how glad I am to see you ! — but how did you manage to get back so soon ?'' " On business, Madam Von Wiegel ! on businef^s for the Colonel. He would have had to come him- self, and asked me if I had any objection to come in his place. Oh! he's a. glorious old fellow ! — like a father to us youngsters, and I do believe he studies to anticipate our wishes !" - " lie has anticipated ours as well, Robert — on tliis occasion," said the old lady, regarding the young •oldier through her glasses with a beaming smile, ivhile Bertha murmured to herself: "Oh! beautiful enthusiasm of youth, how pure, i .'. ■->•■•' ' ' »• ' t * * >' ,; 'i< ."■, »« .. 1- , '.. ■;■ • ■■\*'i'.k'-: ; V! • ^ -:•#■ 1, . •" -.i •-* ■■'! t •<■ 'j ■• • "■I V *-^ . J. , , ^ .- , - - • - '*-,-''' '*v •■ ■- - •■ '■'*■ y ■*■ ■ ' ■';■ <^".,-f. 833 OLD AND NEW ; OR, how fresh, how fervid ! May no cloud ever darken that bright spirit — no blight ever fall on that loving young heart !" ^ " When did you arrive, Robert?" asked Madam Von Wiegel, as they entered the parlor together. " Something less than an hour ago" — he stopped »nd looked at Bertha, then quickly added : " I have but twenty-four hours to remain, so you know I have to make the most of my opportunity." " You are just in time to see Major Montague and Captain Bellew before they leave." " They are not gone yet, then ?" said Robert with a sudden change of countenance. " No, but they must leave in a day or two — they are to join their regiment at Malta to proceed direct to India." " To India ! — ha !" Robert turned as if uncon- Bciously to look at Bertha, but Bertha was looking at the Japanese missionary on the mantel-piece, and seemed as though her faculties were absorbed in the study of that venerable figure. *' So Don Bellianus is going to war," said Robert good-naturedly, " and that fine-hearted fellow, Bel- lew. Well ! God save them for the hearts that lov« them !" His voice trembled, but he mastered his emotion, and added : " I pity the soldier who has no girl to leave behind him when the voice of duty calls him to the post of danger." Bertha was not so deeply engrossed in the cor- templation of the sculptured image before her, but :i % TASTE VERSUS FASHION. 833 she beard these words and felt the sorrowful mean- iDg that did not meet the ear. She turned and looked at Robert with a smile that was not cheering. "Why, Robert ISIurray," said she, "how can yoii ■ay so ? — I think be is much more to be pitied who has such ties to bind him, when the hour of danger comes !" Robert shook his head sadly, and turned to answer Madam Von Wiegel, who had just asked whether he meant to spend the evening with them. " I believe not," said Robert with some hesitation, " having but the one evening to be at home, I am commissioned rather to ask you and Bertha to spend it with us. My father is to send the carriage bye- and-bye.'* " I am sorry it will not be in our power to go," said Madam Von Wiegel, " for I asked Major Mon- tague and Captain Bellew to spend the evening here, and they promised, if possible, to do so. I will send immediately to ask your father and Alice to join our party." To this Robert agreed with a sort of good-hu- mored desperation that amused, while it pained Bertha. It was as if he had said in her ear, " Yes, let them come ! when Greek meets Greek then is the tug of war !" The hour that passed before the arrival of Mr. Murray and Alice was anything but pleasant to Bertha. Restless and anxious as she was, she would have given anything u the world to be raone. v<»* p' '■ * i i,. . , .. . 'iLiifei •7 ■■ H ■Vii- ;^, '¥ 1 W! ^1 ■-**-,■ '■^^WSi ir~.^ I-"> n**^ .^■ 834 OLD AND NEW ; OR, there was Robert Murray, of all people the one whose presence was the least desirable at that par- ticular time. She felt that he saw and fancied ho understood the nervous anxiety to which she was a prey, and when she did happen to meet his eyes, their expression was so sad and so reproachful that she could hardly keep from bursting into tears. At length the old gentleman and Alice came, and con- versation flowed more freely, but still there was a cloud over all, and Bertha felt that she was partly the cause. More than once Mr. Murray, in his good- humored way, alluded, as he was wont, to the pos- sibility of an alliance between the houses, but none of the others seemed desirous of continuing the subject, and it was easy to see that it gave pain both to Robert and Bertha. The old man was himself more dejected than usual, and his eyes would fill with tears as they rested on the altered face of his darling son, and marked how the sunny brightness ©f youth was already obscured, and melancholy sat enthroned on the so lately boyish brow — melancholy " Wilh leaden eye that loves the grouod." " And all this," he thought, " is Bertha's work- God forgive herl I would hate her if I could, but I can't." Alice experienced much the same feelings, with, perhaps, a keener sense of her brother's disappoint- ment, but in her case the sympathy was almost equally divided between Robert and Bertha — whoso sebret struggles she saw, though without under- TASTE VERSUS FASHION. 335 standing their nature or extent. As for Madam Vou Wiegel she shared to a painful degree her daugh- ter's anxiety, increased, if possible, in her case, by the mystery that overhung its source. Her best wishes were with Robert Murray, whom slie loved almost as a son, but she had only too much reason to suspect that her daughter's rejection of his suit was, and must be, final. Like Bertha, and perhaps each of the others in a lesser degree, she watched with intense anxiety for the appearance of the two officers, but hour after hour pasised and still they came not. It was very obvious, to her mother, at least, and not a little surprising, that their non-ap- pearance was a positive relief to Bertha, whose spirits seemed to rise as the evening wore away. There was a hollow ring, however, in the tones of her mirth and a strange light in her eyes, that her mother was not slow to observe, and even Robert as he took his place beside her at supper whispered, " Bertha, you are ill at ease — would that your peace were in my keeping!" *' It is safer in my own," responded Bertha with a smile that was bright enough to deceive most peo- ple, but it did not deceive Robert. lie exerted himself, however, to dispel the gloo'^n thnt was again creeping over the little party, remarking at the same time that as two places were vacant at the board, it devolved on those present to make up for the deficiency — as far as possible, he pointedly added. , " Confound them I" rnutt-ered the old gentleman, i , ^'* ^M rl:\ '^^*'* 1> 336 OLD AND NEW OR, ' ) ;• < ■ ■ : 1 '''t* • y ^ J* '4' ■ ':fm:::. ■ who had carefully abstained from any allusion to tlio expected guests, "I wish people wouldn't make promises unless they mean to keep them. I'm soi ly Bellow isn't here, though, but as for his Excellency Major Montague, I must say his absence is a cordial. The sight of him makes me feel as if I were so mnch cream in a freezer — it actually does." " Father !" said Alice somewhat too earnestly Bertha thought, " Father I how can you speak so of Major Montague? — cold and reserved as he is— ^ proud even, if you will — there is something about him that makes you love him — or at le^st makes you feel as if you could love him, oh ! very dearly — would he but let you !" Though Bertha's cheek flushed at the tone of feeling in which Alice spoke, she thanked her by a smile that made the gentle girl happy. Perhaps Bertha's superior intelligence penetrated the kindly motive that underlay her praise of the absent, sincere though that praise was. ' Robert was silent. He was far too generous and high-minded to attempt underrating a man whose vast superiority he could not conceal from himself, merely because he was not present. But in this instance he was also restrained by a motive of deli- cacy that was fully appreciated by her whose good opinion was dearer to him than the breath of life. The supper was soon over, and the Murrays did not remain long after, but they would not go with- out a promisB from the ladies to dine with them «b wmm TASTK VERars FASHION. 337 the following day, as Robert had to leave by the evening train for Washington. Wiien they were gone Madam Von Wiegel thre\< Dack the heavy damask curtains from one of the windows, and the soft moonlight streamed in, " What a lovely night, Bertha !" she said, after a moment's silence. "Lovely, indeed, mother! it is like a dream of peace !" and they both were silent as they stood together with Bertha's arm resting lightly on her mother's. " I wonder our military friends did not come," said the mother, at length, perhaps divining her daughter's thought. " So do not T, mother," was Bertha's answer, " I hardly thought they would." " And why, my dearest daughter ?" " That I cannot tell you, my own dear mother, but their absence to-night renews a settled convic- tion on my mind, and throws me back where I was three months ago, with a barbed arrow in my heart, and no earthly hope to cheer me except your precious love." Madim Yon Wiegel turned quickly, and was fihockec. to see the pallid hopeless dejection too plainly \ 'sible on Bertha's face. " Bertha ! my heart's one treasure !" said she, drawing her to a seat on a Bofa near, " this ignorance — this suspense — must not, cannot continue ! tell me, I beseech you, what this trouble is that weighs so heavy on your heart ! — who ao fit to share your sorrows, if sorrows you have, as '* * "il^',-. ■'■■ *< ' I OT-D ANT) NKW ; OR, V,; the mother who nursed vou at her breast — who lovof » you more than herself?" " I know it — I feel it, mother !" said Bortlia with forced composure, " and 1 mean to tell you all this very night — ay, even now you shall see the dark shadow that overhangs my life. It will not take long to raise tho curtain !" Turning her back to the gaslight and her face to the mild beams from the window, she paused a while to collect her scattered tht)ughc8, then began as fol- lows : '* My life at Castle Mahon was, I need not tell you, a happy one — too happy, indeed, for this probationary world of ours. Pleasant it is to look back upon— ay, pleasant as a dream of hope. To you I need not say that there " * All is flow'ry, wild and sweet,' And love is not wanting. Love, the tenderest and most sincere, surrounded me, as you well know, from the earliest dawn of infancy, and at Castle Mahon, after my dear grandmother prevailed on you and my father to leave me with hei, the genial in uence increased rather than diminished, for whereas I had only you and my dear, dear father to love and cherish me in my childhood's home by the Rhine, I had many hearts as warm, and true friends as kind and as indulgent in my girlhood's home by the lovely Lee. My grandmother, indeed, went far to spoi' Eveleon and myself by her excessive kindness, but in justice to her precious memory I muat say that '. ' fix TA8TR VERSUS FASHION. 339 her judicious and enlightened teachings made us proof against the otherwise injurious effects of her more than maternal tenderness. Oh ! slie was a woman of many, many gifts, my ever-dear * grand* mamma,' as we fondly used to call her." " Heaven rest her soul in mercy !" murmured Madam Von tViegel as she wiped away the tears that Bertha's heart-warm praise of her mother had called forth ; " Heaven rest her soul in peace, she teas, indeed, all that you say, my daughter ! but pray go on !" " You know my grandmother would not hear o! us girls being sent to a boarding-school, though Uncle Gerald and Aunt Helen were most anxious to have us go to the Ursuline Convent in Cork — a go- verness was accordingly brought into the house for Eveleen*8 education and mine, and this lady, Mrs. Kilally, remained with us till I was twenty and Eve- leen eighteen. She was a widow — a woman of su- perior attainments, with talents of a high order, and tastes the most refined. She had travelled much in her earlier years, for her husband had inherited a considerable property, which he unfortunately squandered away at the gaming-table, then drank himself to death, and left his *■ Idow to her own resources — a tjood riddance for her, all things con- flidered,and I believe she thought so herself, for she always seemed to me contented if not happy. Well I it was just about the time that Mrs. Kilally left us that we ^]\ went one dav to visit Dunmore Castle 5^' : ■ ♦. < '!#?Si^^\. - «' :.< ►^ ' ;■■■ ..; t 840 OLD AND NEW ; OR, and its far-famed demesne. You know the cool- ness that existed between the Montagues and our family- " " Of course I do, Bertha ! and it dated from the breaking off of my engagement with Lord Dunmore, of which I told you a few weeks since." "Well! I never knew, and to say the truth, T never cared to know, why it was that the intercourse between the families had been so suddenly and en- tirely broken off. But we young people had heard so much of the fine old mansion and the picture- gallery and the grand old woods and sylvan glades of the noble park where the red-deer strayed at will, that we persuaded Uncle Walter to take us there to see the sights, and as Lord Dunmore was then dead. Uncle Gerald did not oppose our wishes. It was on that occasion, my dear mother," added Bertha after a pause, " that I first saw Edgar Mon- tague. He was in deep mourning for his father, and when he rose on oar entrance into the library, where he had been writing, 1 thought it was some illusion of my poetic fancy, for I had seen such visions in my dreams, but never before in duli reality. You see him as he is now, mother, but Btriking as his toute enscmb/c is, you can form no idea of the fascination that hung around him under tlio SI )rt cuing influence of his recent heavy sorrow — tho • Icop melancholy impressed on every perfect foi- Lure — the touching sadness of his finely-modulatetl voice, aud the listlesf, hopeless despondency of hl^ TASTE VERSUS FASHION. 341 whole demeanor. Oh ! Edgar 1" she said with a passionate burst of sorrow, burying her face in her hands, " Oh Edgar Montague ! how I pitied you then, — how " "How you loved him afterwards!" said hei mother, drawing her to her. " Mother, I did not say I loved him," said Bertha, struggling to recover her composure, "surely you do not think I would unsought be won." " No, Bertha ! I could not possibly think that-* but were you unsought ?" " I know not that I could say so with truth, my dear mother, but it is quite certain that although Edgar seemed from the first to take a particular pleasure in my society, he never spoke directly of love^ in the ordinary sense of the term. He did the honors of his house to us that first day of our ac- quaintance with that stately grace which you see is natural to him, and seemed half to forget his sorrow in the pleasure of showing us all that he judged worthy of our attention. "X'ou have no idea how delightful a companion he is when he chooses to lay aside the mantle of reserve and unbend from that aristocratic lut/uteur which is apt ♦o prejudice people against him. He has seen much, and read much, and thought a great deal more, and his mind has a range altogether beyond the common run of every-day mortals, and there is, .above all, under ihat calm, cold exterior, a depth of feeling that fprings in part from his poetic temprriTeixt Tn ■■^':}K\::.\i <■: d. ff ■!■:■ ':«i}t.^^^:>:t^,; i> 342 OLD AND NEW 1 0?., ' ".*>.■ tl- •* ■ ll -/;• >•,•»'•' >^;. : '^ ■P k ■O' ■ S 'f^l^ :» ;■•; vv>^;% i'l v^ ' It? • ^ ■■ short, my dear mother, I saw in Edgar Montague, the nearest approach I had ever seen to that Sir -:*;-''J»- ; Jt. i :■ ^ • t ■ ':.• '■^ . ''*? <«, ^iy-J'J-V ■"►.■5 r 1% 844 OLD AND NEW ; OR, of House married a Mr. Bellew in the countv Dublin or Kildare, or somewhere there — a branch, if I remember right, of the Bellews of Louth." *' Precisely, mother ! — how clear your memory is ! — and our lively friend Gerald is the son of that Rhoda Sullivan to whom you have referred. Well with this agreeable addition to our society, we ex- tended our sphere of pleasure and made excursions to various parts of the Island — we even journeyed to the Giant's Causeway, and saw the Atlantic wave wrestling with those pillared rocks that form the northern barrier of the Emerald Isle — we visited) too, the Balbec of Ireland, the city of the dead amongst the Wicklow Mountains; we mused on the nothingness of fame and grandeur amid the desert scenes of classic Clonmacnoise, and drank in poetry from the fairy beauty of Killarney's lakes and ' In- nisfallen's lovely isle.' Ah ! there, indeed, it is that " * Lost in the future, the soul wanders on, And all of t* is life but its sweetness is gone.' " Our party had not long returned from this visit to the world-famous Lakes when death settled down on the towers of Castle-Mahon, pnd my dear, dear grandmother was called hence to receive the reward of a well-spent life, leaving a void in our circle that the youngest of us keenly felt for many a dreary month. " As if with a view to divert our minds from the heavy loss we had sustained, and enliven the gloom of our heartfelt mourning, Mr. Montague aekcd WM TASTE VERSUS FASHION. 845 and received permission to bring his brother's in- tended br'de to see us." Here Bertl\a paused again, and leaning back on her seat pressed her hands on her eyes as though to shut out some un- welcome object. It was some moments before she resumed her story, and her mother made no attempt to hurry her. *' Our new acquaintance, Lady Susan Blackwood, was the third daughter of a Cromwellian earl whose name you must remember, — Lord Milhaven " " Remember it ! — yes, indeed, I do — and a bad breed they were, those Blackwoods — I knew that same Earl of Milhaven when he was Viscount Brere- ton, long before his father's death, and, by-the-bye 1 he and Harry Montague were great friends. They had been at Cambridge together, and were, I believe, fellow-graduates — their friendship, though, could only be accounted for by the axiom that extremes meet, for no two could be more unlike, /could never bear Brereton, who always gave me the im- pression of a splendid but venomous snake. He was so smooth, so insidious, and so designing, yet graceful and exceedingly handsome withal. Attrac- tive he was, undoubtedly, most dangerously attrac- tive, as, I fear, many found to their cost." " Why, mother," exclaimed Bertha with intewise eagerness, " one would think it was hh daughter — I mean Lady Susan's — portrait you were drawing. She was about two-and-twenty when I first saw her., and I oonfess she dazzled me at first with her bright, , f. . I -.'•^ >o ^■■•'' 'f. /■ ', ;: ■'■'■',' \*ifi':- ' ■ ; "r: ■ .-iH'- •,-'•■■■■•'. ' • 'A ■''-' ■■■**^-;t.* - '■" » IS ■«.'! ,' ,\ • ►■•.■,,-'.' ' ■ 846 OLD AND NEW ; OR, gazelle-like beauty, her pretty airs of coquetry, and the sparkling wit that dropped from her tongue and flashed from her black eyes whenever she chose to make a display, and that was pretty often, especially when gentlemen were present. She could languish, too, with the prettiest grace imaginable, and her simplicity was at times entirely captivating — fancy Kate Kearney and Nora Creina wrapped in one, and their playful charms and artless graces wielded by a well-tutored, highly-educated young damsel with the prestige of noble blood to crown all her potent attractions. It pleased her lively ladyship to cultivate our acquaintance, for what purpose I never then thought of considering, never doubting the sincerity of iier professions. Lady Susan's de- meanor towards Mr. Montague was characterized by that easy familiarity which became their relative positions, quite sisterly, m fact, and yet, it seemed to me that the connecting link between them was not kept in sight as one might reasonably expect. Lord Dunmore was seldom mentioned, and his return rarely alluded to. This early excited my attention, and I could by no means understand it, nor neither could Aunt Helen when we talked the matter over, till one day, being all at Dunmore Castle, Lady Harriet Blackwood, one of Lady Susan's elder sis- ters, asked me if I had ever seen Lord Dunmorc's portrait, and on my answering in the negative, she took me to a rather obscure corner in the picture- gallery and said laughingly, * There he is ! — what do •aft' s er SIS- .1, TASTE VERSUS FASHION. 341 you think of Susan's taste ?' I did not say what I thought, but I felt the blood forsaking my check, and a tremor creeping over my frame. In the pale, sallow face before me, deeply marked with the small-pox, I could discover no trace — not even the slightest, of the manly beauty for which these Mon- tagues were, and are, as yor '-now, distinguished. The riddle was, in part, solved, out not quite, not to conviction. Meanwhile Mr. Montague's demeanor towards myself was such as might have flattered me into the belief that I had an interest in his heart ; he still seemed to take a certain [>leasure in discours- ing with me of things high and even holy, and I fancied at times that his lofty intellect had caught glimpses of Catholic truth. How fervently I prayed that he might be sruided to a knowlodr^e, which alone was wanting, it seemed to me, to make him all my highest aspirations would have desired. Vain dreams ! hopes too rudely shattered, the hour was at hand when the darkness of doubt,and the cold- ness of distrust took the place of b«>th. But I see you are weary, mother ! and as Jan and Betty must be waiting for the night-prayer, had we not better postpone the little that remains of my story till we have dismissed them for the night?" " I am glad you have reminded me of what T was inexcusably forgetting, Bertha !" her mother replied; " however anxious I may be to hear the sequel of your recital, we must get prayers over and let Jan and Betty get to rest." r, .;. 1." * ^If <- ^ ■> ■ ■■ ^. t. • > ■' ' ■■ ., ■t -J* .ir ■ < > liitfii- >: i ■ '.muim^f- I'llifiii;' '^'f^'.Y- •■ -. h- ;ii| •» ; ._, ■l!.'i-- . ; v-l . ; 1 - 848 OLD IND NEW ; OR, They then repaired to the oratory, and the worthy couple were summoned from below in no very good humor at being kept up so late, for it was eleven o'clock, and that was a very late hour in that quiet, well-ordered household. ■i^-"' \ -.n tAflfrS VERSUS FASHIOIf. 849 CHAPTER XVIII. THE DRUID's "UAIR. When the servants were dismissed for the night, Madam Von Wiegel and her daughter waited in the Oratory to perform their private devotions, and then Bertha attended her mother, as ufiual, to her apart- ment. " Now my dear ! will you finish your story ?'* said the elder lady, placing herself in a chair ; ' I am so anxious to hear the sequel that I am sure I could not sleep in this state of suspense." " I fear you will be none the better to-morrow, my dear mother, for such an unusually late vigil, but seeing that you are so desirous of hearing what is to come, I suppose we must extend it a little far- ther—it will be only a little, for there is not much to be told now." So saying, she seated herself on a tabouret at her mother's feet, and with her arm resting on her knee, resumed : " Things were as I told you, ma ckere maman when one day as we strolled through the grounds at Castle Mahon, Lady Susan with her arm in mine — for her ladyship seemed to have taken quite a fancy to my insignificant self — we found ourselves all at once in that pleasant lawn by the hazel copse where stands the Druid's Chair. Mr. Montague, *'f: XL P-IJIIII f I l,,J«l«ll i^-^' 850 OLD AND NEW 1 OR, '^ *^U' i ''., •' ■■- f, ' .;;,'./i'n J ^f.r^fl''/ -^■=f - ■,;<) - t --, L , • ' '' *\H :. 11 -■w-y--" Struck with the beauty of the scene far and near observed to me in rather a low tone : " ' What a taste for the beautiful those oKl-world people had, after all ! I have remarked, and doubt- less you have, too, Miss Von Wiegel, that these pagan remains are, in most instances, finely situated.' " The answer I was going to make was forestalled by Lady Susan : ' What a comical sight it must have been to see those queer old Druids in theii white robes, and mistletoe-crowns, with a cowled cloak by way of promenade-dress when they jour neyed abroad from their ancient woods.' " * Comical indeed 1' said Uncle Walter who was of the party, looking back over his shoulder— you know how precise he is in regard to the use of words, and withal so satirical. ' I know not huw comical the * queer old Druids' might, have appeared in their priestly garb, but I think your ladyship would have looked divine as a priestess of that old rite.* "* You flatter me, Mr. Walter!' said her ladyship affectedly. * You are really more than kind ! — what say you, Edgar V would I have made a tolerable priestess — or a vestal ?' she added, speaking across me to Mr. Montague with one of those arch glances which shot like an electric flash through her long eilken lashes. " ' Or a pythoness,' said Montague in a tone neither jest nor earnest. " * A pythoness ! — ha ! it is a good thought !' cried /I TASTE VRR31S FASHION. 351 La" fp^ hi .", ,» v rf, -V -«<'.;•■ ■;■> i- ;; .is?! . r ! 1 ■'.< V* ."^ .'-jAi :f 852 OLD AND NEW ; OK Brereton to-morrow — or this evening — I know th« girls will be most happy to corae, especially Harriet and Louisa, and I thiuk my father might posssibly come himself. You know he is home for the Easter recess.' " ' You know I am but a poor cavalicro servantc^^ was the reply, 'but, of course, if you ladies lay your joint commands on me T musi resign myself to the necessity.* " Lady Susan hastily withdrew her arm from mint and gliding round to Montague said something in a low voice, so low that it reached no ear but his own- She held up her taper finger with sportive grace, and Montague bowed his acquiescence, though I could see without actually looking at him that he changed color and bit his lip. Uncle Walter went heartily into our project and, as I expected, so did the other dear ones at home. Ah ! they were all easily per- suaded to go into anything that promised pleasure and amusement to the younger members of their house and their visitors." " But, Bertha, my dear 1" said her mother, " I wonder your uncles and your Aunt Helen agreed to have the Druid's Chair occupied in the way you mention. Tiiey, at least, knew well how many su- perstitions clung around that ancient seat. " Why, mother, you speak so gravely," said Ber- tha, " that one would be apt to think you a believer m those fiutastic superstitions." ** Believing or not," said Madam Von Wiegel TASTE VERSUS FASHION. 353 )m mint * VFhen I was a girl it would have been hard to per* Buadc rayself or any of ray young companions to sit ill the Druid's Chair. Tales of suddc^n death, or other mishap following on such rashness, were so common that in spitv^ of our reason we young peo- ple, at least, were kept in awe of the rud'ily -formed old chair. I wonder Helen didn't tell you." ** Why, of course, they all told us, mother, and what is more, most of us knew it as well as they did, but we only laughed at the idea of the old stone seat being ' unlucky' (as it was called), and I believe the ill-repute in which it stood served to excite our interest in the unsightly though venerable relic." '' Well ! the appointed evening came, and so did the Earl of Milhaven, and his three daughters, Lady Harriet, Lady Lucy and Lady Elizabeth. Lady Susan was, of course, cliez nous with us, and had been staying for weeks before at Castle Mahon. The Countess had died some three years before, and I believe the still handsome and attractive Earl would fain have installed one of us girls in that dis- tingaish^d position, but it so happened that neither of as had any ambition to wear a coronet or win a place in the next edition of the Peerage. His only son. Lord Brereton, was then at Cambridge, so the gay father of the family when at home — which he generally was when the House of Lords was not in session — (to do him justice, Lord Milhaven was never aL absentee from choice) — took upon himself, nothin loath, I fancy, the task of escorting his daughteni It n .*'., ■y ^' .•■1;' •• . ■^ ,;■;. ■•* i . : :.:j ■ - * ' . ; ,,- 'il ' •" '■'■' « :'..,»« > I S51 OLD AND NEW ; OR, whither they would — and especially, as I said, to Castle Mahon." " Can the leopard change his spots, or the camel his skin?" muttered the attentive listener. " But pray go on, Bertha !" Bertha did not go on, at least immediately; she sat with her eyes fixed on vacancy, and a strangely mournful smile parting her delicate lips. Her moiher re^m^' - -^'M < V. .'-..;^^if* 'J r ^^^ ■ '•'■ *■ 'i[^^'-' : ■*■•■. ''■■'■; .'•^''.^v, ■■■: •?:^- herself specially to me. It struck me as rather a eiugular thing to send the child to school all tho way to Madrid, but the unhappy circumstances of her birth in part accounted for the oddness of the choice, as Montague would, of course, be anxious to have her as far as possible out of the way. But oh! mother, how can I tell you the anguish, the ahame, the mortification which I endured for months after I had heard the dreary news. It was hard to think of htm — him so high-souled, so noble, so gene- rous — in such a connection as that, and, of course, as a Christian, I could nowise justify, or even extenu- ate such flagrant immorality. Even as the friend he had been, the agreeable companion, Edgar Mon- tague was no longer a fit associate for our circle, and yet how could I have hinted such a thing to the others who still believed him what his fair seemini; indicated. How happy I was, then, and what a weight was lifted from, my secret heart when he witl»drew himself, as I told you he did, from our circle, and finally left Ireland for Spain." " But Lady Susan — were she and Lord Dunmore married ?" " Married !" said Bertha, with keen irony ; " no, indeed, mother ! they were not. I believe the Vis- count found out by some means that Lady Susan was in the habit of ridiculing his disfigured coun- tenance to her confidential friends, and, of course, the Montague blood took fire, and he informed her jidyship by letter that having reason to suppose TASTE VERSUS FASHION. 3G1 fliat she repented of their engagement, self-respect H'ould not permit him to enforce his claim to her fair hand, which he, therefore, begged respectfully to resign in favor of some worthier and more at- tractive aspirant. Whatever Lady Susan's family might have thought of this apparently cavalier treatment, there were no public steps taken to show their displeasure, possibly because the politio earl deemed it the wiser course to submit in silence, rather than furnish a nine days' wonder for the fash- ionable world by sueing Lord Dunmore for breach of promise. Indeed, Lady Susan and the whole family contrived to impress the public mind with the idea that it was she, not Lord Dunmore, who had seceded from the contract, and to show how well pleased she was at its dissolution, she got up a very marked flirtation with a certain Scotch baro- net, widower of middle age, who liad lately pur- chased an estate in the neighborhood. Finding, I suppose, that he was somewhat dilatory in declaring his intentions, she accepted, probably, in despera- tion, the hand and fortune of Sir Henry Burke." " Sir Henry Burke !" exclaimed Madam Von Wie- gel, " why, he is as old as I am, if not older. It must be the same person, for I never heard of my old acquaintance being married — nor yet dying." " It is the same Sir Henry, mother ! I have heard Aunt Helen and my uncles speak many a time of his odd ways and his inextinguishable foppery." " Why, what a match for the young and beautiful 1 WW '■■■■".*'•'«' '■■■'. ^ ■•' ; , l«. 1 ' • '- ' ■I'-t. • ■» r,^ V'" -u ■■'* ■'^: i.- ■' ''».■■ * •• i-. ^ ^ •Vi-i' ■ '' 1"' /.<;■'*, V 1-. 'i; Vi ■■'■ rt4-^'^ '■^'■■; 3G2 OLD AND NEW OR, daughter of an earl !" said Madam Von Wiegel in surprise. " What could have induced her to marry /tewj— she, of all people, — so brilliant and so ad- mired ?" "As I have already intimated, my dear mother, he must have married him in a tit of spleen, and be- cause he wa-3 the first that asked her after her disap pointment." " Well ! and what has become of her since ? — how have she and Sir Henry agreed?" " Tolerably well, I believe ; indeed there is but one will between them, for Sir Henry would as soon think of taking Nelson's Pillar or the London Monu- ment on his back as opposing any wish or disputing any command of my Lady Paramount. They have been travelling most of the time since their mar- riage, now some four or five years ago, but what will you say when I tell you that they are now in this city ?" "In this city! is it possible?" and Madam Von Wiegel looked musingly down at the carpet. " It is not only possible but true ! — I saw their names on the list of arrivals by the Havre packet the day before yesterday. Now is it net a remarka- ble coincidence, to say the least of it, that Lady Susan should arrive in New York at this particular time — New York, of all places?" " I know not, my dear," said her mother still in the same thoughtful tone; "it certainly does look somewhat strange — but still it may be pure acci* TASTE VERSUS FASHION. 3r,3 dent — stranger things than that you kno^.v, do lia{)pen by chance." Bertha shook her head. " You see neither of the gentlemen came this evening, as they had promised." " The promise was only conditional, Bertha. Still I must own the whole aifair is rather suspicious. But, then, suppose, Major Montague and Captain Belle w did call on Ladv Susan — when they found she had arrived — it was nothing more than common courtesy and good feeling required, seeing that she is, after all, a very old acquaintance !" Madam Von Wiegel spoke in rather a hesitating tone, as if she were trying to combat even her own conviction. " Nothing in the world would be more natural oi more decorous," rejoined Bertha, " in an ordinary case — but this is not an ordinary case, my dear mother, but altogether eaj^ra-ordinary. Now I know not whether Major Montague may call on us again previous to his departure — although his high-bred courtesy would scarcely permit him to dispense with tliat act of common politeness — and if he should call, it is not very probable that he will give me an opportunity of alluding to this painful subject — and hence I shall have no alternative but believe him guilty — very, very guilty ! — and that, too, when I was almost daring to hope that he might not be so black as Lady Susan would have had me be- lieve. Now there is no hope — and 1 feel, 7ny dear- est mother, with that crushing conviction on my it- ' f I ■f;*> T-'- *■ 1 ■ ♦ H64 OT.n AND KEW ; OR, ^V' ?i^ aIw */l' .. ^y-*.', ',, ,-'''. -■■ ,-:.• ■■ V- . mind, as if I had seen with my own eyes another bright intelligence fall from the spheres above." "But, my dear Bertha!" said her mother tenderly smoothing back with her hand the rich mass of dark hair that shaded her daughter's queenly brow, " my dear Bertha ! you surely could not think of squan- dering your heart's affection on one whose moral character you have strong reason to doubt — one who, moreover" — she paused, and seemed at a loss how to continue. " I know what you would say, mother !" said Bertha with a mournful smile, " one who never said he loved. Well ! my dearest mother," and she rose as she spoke, " / do not say I love him — and be as- sured that even if I had loved him as never wo lau loved man, let me once be convinced of his depravity, and I would tear his image from my heart, though the heart should break in the effort." There was a dazzling light in Bertha's eyes, and a burning glow on her cheek as she spoke these em- phatic words, and the fond mother murmured to herself as she gazed through blinding tears at her daughter, " Were virtue incarnate in mortal form, the embodied spirit might bear such a semblance! God bless you, my sweet daughter!" she said aloud, " I have no fear but He will, and bring you unscathed through the trials and vicissitudes and temptations of this weary life! I think I may now prepare for bed." '''•*>ii TAST£ VERSUS FASHION. 8«5 **Do you feel better or worse, mother, now that you have heard all ?" inquired Bertha earnestly. " Neither better nor worse. Bertha !" was the reply, " but much surprised, and sorely puzzled. It is so strange that his father and 1 should have parted on the same grounds that— that induced you to — to shrink from further intercourse with him." Anotiier half, hour and the inmates of liheinfeldt House were, or, at least, seemed to be, sunk in calm repose. But there were two hearts there wakeful and un- quiet. Bertha was thinking of the little probability there was that the hopes nhe had once cherished wei« ever now to be realized ; dim and faint, as in a far off vision they appeared "to her mind, rather as belonging to the past than the present. She was echooling her mind into submission, and sought, but vainly, to realize what her feelings would be when even the last faint ray of hope had faded, and the brightest charm of life was gone. " Now that I have seen him," she said, communing with her own sad thoughts, " now that I have seen him again and again, moving amongst us like a being from some higher sphere, as far beyond ordinary mortals, in the endowments of mind as in the graces of person and manner — the possibility of his being what I had once been led to believe seemed to have diminished very Beuoibly — and then — there were moments when I almost thought ids feelings towards me were such as I had long ago wnlured to imagine, — but now thf 366 OLD AND NEW OK, >* -yvitv 9 .».': \*\1 ^ ligh<- of hope is well nigh gone, and scarcely the flxr ofl' speck remains for me that guided Sinbad through his dreary prison-cave. Perhaps I may see him no more — but if I do, it must be to-morrow or next day and then the die will be cast one way or the other. Her mother's thoughts were not much more sooth- ing. She had had her experience of the Mou tagues, and could not help fearing that Edgar had in- herited those dangerous propensities and that laxity of morals, the discovery of which in his father had turned her heart away from him, and changed the love of years into coldness and contempt. " How unfortunate, how very unfortunate it is !" was her mental soliloquy, "how very unfortunate it is that Bertha should have met him in her girlish years' under circumstances so favorable to the display of his uncommon attractions — and how still more un- fortunate that the acquaintance so abruptly broken off in Ireland was renewed here — here under my very eyes ! — God protect my child from evil ! God direct her for the best !" This was her last thought — her last prayer as her eyes closed in a troubled slumber, and then her sleep- ing fancy wandered away through the hazy scenes of dreamland, and forms from the past flitted befoie her ; the Ritter Von Wiegel was there regarding her with a look of anxious solicitude, and Henry Monta- gue was there, not the dignified peer of later years — • tis such she had hardly seen him in life — but the boy- ish companion of her earlier years, the first l<5vo of P TASTE VERSUS EASHIOV. 361 her young heart. Yes ! he was there in the bright- ness of " youth's early promise" as she had first seon and loved him when "the spririg-time of joy" was speed ng on, and " Hearts were light, And eyes were bright, Iq tde summer days v/hen they were voung." All at once, however, a dark shade flitfad over the fair scene — a change came over Montague's face and form — the thunder was heard growling in the dis- tance, the lightning flashed, and the dreamer felt a cold hand laid on her arm — she knew it was her husband's, though his features were but dimly seen as he drew her away, and other scenes opened be« fore her. . i i9|E ^^A,' 3^! 868 OLD AND NEW ; Ol^ CHAPTER XIX. DECIDEDLY HYMENEAL. The Gallaghers are still at Saratoga, but as w« have neither time nor inclination to follow them thither, we shall take the orportunity of paying a visit to the Fogarty mansion — indeed, we have neglected the fj^mily too long, and are only sorry we have not much time to devote to them now. Contrary to general expectation — for general ex- pectation is generally prone to rash judgment — tho advent of Mrs. Edward Fogarty had been produc- tive of no bad eifects in the way of disturbing the family peace. Indeed, things appeared to have gone on rather better than worse since Sarah Hackett '* went home" as Edward's wife. Mrs. Fogarly, senior, though a little rough or so, as our readers may remember, was really a good, kind-hearted woman, without any whims or vagaries to anr« «°»dition of me going got ticket, already- w!n:r!^ "s.Johu; but we'. e of the Excursion "and r , " ""' "f the managers the tickets. W^'ro lb,: 'r''^ '"''''••' '•o^^-» of though." " obhged.to you all the same, -l^^suS";'.::^;^.':";;;-■-^" -'^ e^-^' poor company for a g'e^t in Sv'k'^r^'' is but Deuce take Saratoga !» cried M n real vexation, "I ^^J ,^ wit T "r^'^ "''"' ahem ! the Imly witn it !'• J"'cho,~and-. 'Ho was .ooki„gi.;i::ri:: ,f':r^' ^' ^""- H'-";re„t;rtrCsn^'-^^---^^--^ amongst otheragreeable IhTnl Sfh '"'' ''"J"'' ""''' fidential tone, that he hadn'/r *■■ ""'"'t^aoofl- --t young woman uiS Fr'r"^"""-^''- credit to them that broulthe^, ^'"''^' ''''° ^"^ « "-ards added that Julia I a W.'" "'"' '"^ ""- ocoount of his mother, God restl m™' °- '"^' ">•* was Julia-Jnii, McBdde I/Tp'"- "'•'"'••"""<' course, highly pleased with th! ^' p ^''"^ "''''' of ^i '-u'X i M: C 314 OLD AND NEW ; OR, ehowed her satisfaction by making John McConoghy acquainted with sundry good oflers that Julia liad bad, but somehow she didn't seem to care for ac- cepting any of them — she (Mrs. Fogarty) couldn't tell wliat to make of her refusing such very good otfers, but she supposed her time wasn't come — or the right man hadn't made his appearance. To this latter possibility John acceded in perfect good faith, perhaps wondering whether he might have a chanco of being the right man, in case ho made his appear- ance. At all events, appear he did in the character of Julia's humble servant, dating from the day of the Excursion, on which occasion he had the honor of making one, and a prominent one, too, in the Fo- garty party — danced two sets of quadrilles with Julia " under the greenwood tree," and, what was still more desirable, for a gentleman wanting a house- keeper, had the honor of the same young lady's com- pany, and her arm within his, for a promenade (through the crowd) most part of the afternoon, to the agreeable surprise of some, the disagreeable sur- prise of others, and the setting in motion of a score or two of tongues. It must be acknowledged that Julia Fogarty, over and above other considerations of per^sonal ad- vantage, did estimate Mr. McConoghy's attentions as a triumph over Fanny Gallagher, excusing the uncharitable feeling to herself by the patent fact that said Fanny was the very lady that triuraphe-d ov«j tas-:e versus fashion. 315 every one else on the slightest possible opportunity. So Julia thought, and peiiiaps not unjustly, that ib was only fair to give her back tit for tat. The upshot of all this may be inferred. Justthre^ weeks after the Excursion to Jones' Wood, Julia Fogarty exchanged vows at the altar with John McC/ ^>s* Photographic Sciences Corporation 23 WEST MAIN STREET WEBSTER, NY. 14580 (716) 872-4503 \ I i : \ Ai mm. f ,^ •^'^^-^h^' cs^ 318 OLD AND NEW ; OR, " 'Way down in the Carolina States." Tom was very, very angry — for him — ou readmg this singular announcement — had he listened to the promptings of his vexed spirit he would have gone " right off to Saratoga" and taken the " womankind'' home bag and baggage. But, of course, he coul i not take any such important step without consulting his right-hand man, or rather his oracle, Atty Gar- rell, and, of course, Atty was not in such a passion as he was^ and consequently had his wits about him, so he reasoned Tom out of the proposed midnight excursion, and succeeded in proving to his satisfac- tion that a letter would answer the same purpose without taking him away from his business. The letter was to be written next day without fail, but when next day came it proved to be an extra-busy day, and when Tom went home at night he was too tired to sit down to the onerous task — always te- dious to him — of inditing a letter, so he put it off till the day after, and although it was written the day after, it was posted just half an hour too late to go that day, though Tom didn't know that it wah late, and naturally thought all was right. He and Atty smoked their cigara togethei that night witli great comfort, and, on the part of Tom, with great complacency, supposing, of course, that he had sent the Southern planters to the right about. "Southern planters, indeed 1" quoth he to Atty as he \^ atclied *' the smoke that so gracefully curled" from his fra- grant Havana, "I'd plant them if they'd go on with w TASTE VERSUS FASHION. 879 any such nonsense ! — at least I'd plant ray monej where them lads wouldn't get their hands on it !— and I think it's that they want, more than wives, the schemers ! Well, Atty, it's a folly to talk !— • women never ought to have their own way — now if I had had 7711/ way, they wouldn't have been a4 Saratoga at all — for, to tell you the truth, I think it's no place for the likes of them I Howsomever, Attyl I think we've forbid the bans in time, and that's the main point now !" " Of course it is," said Atty, " and I hope we're all right!" They weren't all right, however, for the very day the ladies were expected home again, instead of themselves came to Tom Gallagher tne Saratoga paper containing amongst ether items of news the following • *' Married, in the Catholic Church, Saratoga, on Tuesday morning, July 10th, by the Rev. Father , Jerome F. Winter, Esq., of Cucamberville, S. C, to Ellen T., third daughter, and on the same day, by the same Rev. gentleman, Ruben R.. W Frost, Esq., Lemonvale, S. C, to Margaret Ann, fourth daughter of Thomas Gallagher, Esq., of New York City.'* Now placid as our friend Tom was on ordinary occasions, he could be stirred up to honest, genuine anger, and, when he read the above precious " item," I tell you frankly he was angry and very angry. Too angry indeed for words, for his heart swelled 1- .it . .t . W •t^' •' i w '■• ..V, ■■'(, ?JWi, R^i m v> »«• 380 OLD AND NEW ; OR, within hirn till he thought it would burst, and he felt a choking sensation about the throat that stopped the words which rose to his lips. But it was not all anger tliat shook his strong frame as he leaned his elbows on the table and covered his face with his hands. Grief was heavy at his heart, and Atty Garrell knew that well, and applied himself to offer consolation in the best way he could. After leaving his patron for some moments to the indulgence of the several emotions that swelled within him, Atty approached in his quiet way and laid his hand on his shoulder. *' Mr. Gallagher !" said Atty, " I wouldn't take on so if I was you. I would not, sir ! It may all turn out for the best, and sure, at any rate, it isn't so bad but what it might be worse." " I tell you it's bad enough, Atty," was the dogged reply of Tom without raising his head. " I'd rather see them in their graves, the ungrateful hussies! for then I'd be done with the trouble of them, and besides I could grieve for them with all the love of a father's heart — but now, Atty! — oh God help me 1" " Why, my goodness ! matters can't be so bad as you think," said Atty; "sure Mrs. Gallagher is a sharp, sensible woman, and do you think she'd be the fool to give her consent to the two matches if she wasn't full sure of them being good ones ?" Hearing this, Tom raised his head so suddenly that Atty started back. " Mrs. Gallagher be hanged!** fV.1 TASTE VERSUS FASHION. 381 he exclaimed so fiercely that Atty drew still farther back, whereat Tom laughed, with all his anger " God forgive me for saying such a word 1" said he, but as true as God's in heaven, Atty Garrell ! that woman is enough to ruin any family of children, and she makes a fool of herself and fools of them girls of hers every day she rises out of her bed. It's hei and not them I blame for this, come of it what may." " There won*t come any bad of it," put in Atty very timidly, " you'll see there won't, Mr. Gallagher." " Don't tell me, Atty ! — I know there will — it's as plain to me as the nose on your face. They're a pair of sharpers — idle loafers, and nothing else. And just look at the names they've got." Referring again to the paper, he read aloud " Jerome F. Win- ter, of Cucumberville, no less, South Carolina — (that's what S. C. stands for, you know), and Ruben R. W. Frosty of Lemonvale, S. C. There's names for you ! Winter and Frost ! why Brown and Green wasn't half so bad as that ! Now, Atty Gar- rell ! there's two things to be said about that," pointing with his finger to the ominous paragraph in the Saratoga paper. " Well, sir ?" said Atty, seeing that his patron paused. " It's my opinion that them aren't the fellows* nrmes at all — now mark that " " I will, sir !" " Nonsense, man ! I didn't ask you whether you would or not. I told you to do it — but whether oi ;-,vv %t ^1 iii P^»*,>v*I iS-'i M i &; >*?> U'r". L^-f' i 882 OLD AND NEW ; OR, not, they'll turn out Winter and Frost for tlie fools they have got their grip on. They'll freeze theni^ I'll go bail for it — they will, and only it would be wrong to say it, I'd say for my part, so be it — but I'll not say it — no, no — no, no 1 tlieir bed will be hard enough without a father's curse lo i/he back of all! But oh! oh! what a foolish motLcr does! — God forgive Ellen ! she'll have a power to answer for! — and do you know, Atty!" he added with an anxious, thoughtful look, "I'm not sure but I'm to blame myself as well as her." " Ah then, why would you thitik that, Mr Gallagher?" " Why, because, Atty ! if I hadn't given her and the girls so much of the tether as I did all along they couldn't have got on with such vagaries. Now for instance, if I hadn't let them go to that unlucky Saratoga, Winter and Frost wouldn't have come — come in their way. Well ! I did it for the best, anyhow ! — it was for peace-sake I gave in, — and no- thing else. Ah! many another foolish thing I've let them do for the same reason ! I wnsh to God I hadn't ! However, there's no use in fretting now — what's done, I suppose, can't be wndone, and we must only bear the burden the best way we can ! But oh, Atty Garrell ! Atty Garrell ! it's a hard thing to see your family taking the reins out of your hands, and driving — to the devil! God pardon me ! I hope you'll never know what a sore heart 1 have this present hour!" — TASTE VERSUS FASHION 88b mm .*-./■ ^'i The agitated father then hurried away to tell hiliza of what had happened, and consult with her aiid her husband as to wliat was best to be done Samuel shook his head and looked grave, but Eliza was quite elated. "Two Southern planters! well! that was some* thing — not .il as one!" and she looked so meaningly at her husband that, '.le couldn't choose but take the Lint, »vhich he did with a smile peculiar to himself. " Well, pa!" went on Eliza, " what are we going to do P" " Whatever you think of doing, you may do your- self," said Tom, " for I wash my hands of the whole business — I had nothing to do with it first, and you may take my word for it, I'll have nothing to do with it last.'* •*Why, pa, that will never do! — you know they may be here to-morrow morning — in fact, any hour — of course, they'll all stay at 66, for some time, at least, till t\\fy can get houses to suit them?'* This was cpoken rather in a tone of inquiry, but Tom answered very quickly : " Of course they will 9wt stay at 66 — no, not for one night ! I suppose, my two damsels, and your mother to boot, counted on that, but if they did they'll find themselves under a mistake — Ila 1 ha ! ha ! I'll let them see that I can be master of my own house — when I take the notion. Yfi can ask them here if you like !" he added with a comical look at Samuel, who seemed ff^. iT •''i' »■! -", '*r^' f ' rthi 384 OLD AND NEW ; OR, to enjoy Eliza's trouble, though he did not care to say so. " Nonsense, pa ! how could / ask them ?" said Eliza tartly — " why, we've only one spare room in the house." « Very well, then, let them go to a hotel." And that was Tom's last word, as he left the house fol- lowed by Samuel. That night about eleven o'clock there was a loud and long-continued ringing at Tom Gallagher's door- bell. For some time it received no response, but at last Ally Brady put her head out of an upper win- dow, and asked " Who's there ?" " It's me. Ally," said the well-known voice of Mrs. Gallagher, " be quick and open tha door — why, I thought you were all dead." " I can't open the door, ma'am I the master told me not on any account to do it." " Come down this instant !" cried the excited Mrs. Gallagher ; do you mean to say I'm not to get into my own house ?" " Don't blame me, ma'am," expostulated Ally " you know I'd go on my head to let you in, but the master told me I rausn't do it — he said the door was not to be opened this night." Mrs. Gallagher was speechless with anger. Fanny laughed bitterly but said nothing, Annie and Janie began to cry, but the two brides, partly guessing bow matters stood, suggested to their mother that TASTE VERSUS TASIIION. S8ft It was better to go at once to a hotel, a proposal which '^'as warmly seconded by their respective lords and masters. " Go to a hotel !" repeated Mrs. Gallagher with a toss of her head, and a stamp of her foot, " I'll do no such a thing ! —I must and will get in ! — do you think I'm going to be turned away from my own door like a beggar ?" . ** For God's sake go quietly, ma'am !" said Ally from above, " you may as well do it soon as sudden !" The window was suddenly closed, evidently not by Ally Brady, and Mrs. Gallagher saw at once that no alternative remained — to a hotel the whole party went, trunks, bandboxes, packing-cases and all. Fanny laughed louder than politeness warranted— the Southern planters declared it a very strange pro- ceeding, and their wives apologized by saying that Pa was very queer at times, and did not like to b« c^isturbed in his night's rest. >,.i» 886 OU) AND NEW } OR, CHAPTER XX. LIGUT ON THE PICTURE. W {..-.Vlpr »,«». ^^- I ^mm '^^ "VvT^w M i .'ii* m m fyv.ft» j;*, 1^5^ '1 " Bertha, my dear !" said Madam Voii Wiegel on the morning after the echiircissejuent, " wliat are you going to do about Lady Susan ?" " As how, mother ?" and Bertha started at the name. " Why in regard to calling on her. Of course etiquette requires that you should, and yet " " Your yd anticipates my objections, mother," said Bertha; "I know it is my duty to call on her ladyship in consideration of our former acquaint- ance, and besides I have really no sufficient cause for cutting the connection — at least nothing tangible — still I own I cannot bring myself with any sort o4' good grace to associate with her on equal terms. It may be that she forgets all about my being in New York — if, indeed, she ever heard of it — and it may also be," she added after a moment's pause, *' that the renev/al of our acquaintance would be any- thing but agreeable to her. In any case I will wait a day or two longer." Her mother smiled. " The ides SLrecoine, Bertha ! and you would not see this formidable personage till ihey a.re gone? — have I guessrd aright?" " In part you have, my dear mother, but the TASIK VKRSUS FASHION. 387 reason I have already assigned is the principal one that deters me from doing in this case what common courtesy wouKl require. I presume Major Montague and Captain Belle w have heen to pay their devoirs yesterday evening." " It is quite probable," said Madam Von Wiegel thoughtfully ; then, as it" to change the subject, she suddenly added, " Poor Robert Murray 1 to-day he leaves again ! — I am almost sorry he came when his stay is necessarily so short. Of course, he will come to bid us good-bye.'' " I should think he wouW," said Bertha with a faint smile, and then the subject dropped. The hours of that day dragged heavily along. Mr. Murray called in the forenoon, and said that Robert would call on his way to the cars. " I be- lieve he almost shrinks from coming at all," said the old man with a serious and anxious look very dif- ferent from the vivacious cheerfulness of his wonted manner. " Bertha !" said he, as if by a sudden im- pulse, " is there no hope for Robert ? — must we all give up, once and for ever, the hopes we had so cherished ? — Madam Von Wiegel ! can you do no- thing in the way of bringing Bertha back to reason ?" " Back, Mr. Murray ?" repeated Bertha with emphasis. "Well! I didn't exactly mean that, you know, but — but — in short, I scarce know what I meant — and, by ray word. Bertha Von Wiegel! I don't know What you mean by your present course. You'll t \ ■'f. ■J*' 388 OLD AND NEW ; OR. B^l''*-' .■ Sft' ?s!ft;^ ;m1 ,^^^ f:^-! ■MB ^1= ■ never get one that Toves you better than Robert, and I think he is about as preseuvaole as most men— though, to be sure, he is not a — ahem! — a Spanish Don !" "My dear sir," said Madam Von Wiegel, "you do not see, but /see and know, that you are givini^ pain to my daughter by pursuing this subject. May I beg that you will spare her a little more," sho added smiling, " than you seem inclined to do ?" " Certainly, madam, certainly," said the old gen- tleman, his good humor being proof against almost every dart, *' but I'd like to know who spares my poor boy — eh. Bertha? Well! well! shake hands, at all events! — let us be friends all round, if nothing more ! I forgot to say that Alice sends her love — she would have been with me were it not for a bad headache she has got !— poor thing I she is moi o troubled about Robert than she cares to own, even to me I" • Madam Von Wiegel sighed and looked at her daughter, but said nothing. A hasty and silent shake-hands and Mr. Murray hurried away. Bertha looked for\Vc*.d with no very pleasurable teelings to Robert's farewell visit, and her mother delicately forbore any allusion to the subject, feel- ing, probably, that her interference could do no good to any of those concerned. When Robert did make his appearance he looked pale and haggard beyond Bertha's power to ima* glue. She was much distressed and inwardly TASTE VER.m-s TASniOIf gg^ «"tled her, ho.i: ,- ^ S:.' ?'"'''''■ ^« "'ord, whether Jlaior Mn„, °' ''^"""" '•'"' ""« '-«■ '.ae<-e. They have bu^ t ' T ' ,"■ '"'"""^ «•<"- «Poke, a.,d a crimsorfll '''' *■'" ^^^"^^ =« •"'« -;'t.oI. He starteci to hil Lf ''' "'^ ^°"S'" *» Bertha,"said he, " I asked you one . 'o . w.fe-you refused me_an,1 r , ""'''"'"'' ">? I 'vould «ever agat braH, ""'^" "'' "^ >"'■"<» ^"^t ""bject. I confess I half '' '"""^ '" ^^^ o" t'^e brief visit to br Ik tlou„h """^""^ ''"""? 'f"' -I A/ that the :es!^:fix:h:'''''''"-'"'' »"« I see farther iuto your hear ,1 ''""'• ^"^^''^ ' I see there is uot a Zrnl7„Tf "'" '""' ^""P'"'*- "yself to the stern u'ofnllX'V'lV ''''^'' "gam, as I told you once bpf? ^;, ' ^ '"" y"" come when you will th Tt / ' """ " ^^y »»? "» one whose loZe wa Lf .^?- ^°'"'' ^'^^^'i oharacter of a^; 'ZI , T, "« - ™-e in the you frankly I will do wha I T ^T""""' ^ '^" ""age from my hea^t ZTJ T '" "^""^ y" dreams ofdrea^y^rylTdin'r"" ''''■' ''«"''''' '-'■Vv , 'f • ^ _ f ■ w '*' Wfff^ w ■■ij .1'^ ;-t If: ,| I. TV' 'Mi.:: , ^ , i'* p y-': •t*' Bf^^'-' '^Sifr>2':: : i.^ J --4 ■* ■» t. -■? '■■^^ ■ ^ t ' -^ 3i', '1". -iStj^ ■ - 190 . OI.n AKT) VHW ; OR, " ' The light thai ne'er can Rhine again On lif«'H dull Blream I' Farewell ! mny i/ou be hapi)y !" lie raised her hand A moment to his lips, {jja/ed with soi'leiietl eyes on the pale lovely lace now drooping and bedewed ■with tears, then dropped the lair han«l, and bowed his head a moment wlnle Madatn Von Wiegel blessed him as she would a dear son, and shaking her hand "warnily hurried from the house, never once turnini; his head till lie reached the avenue gale. Ti>en, they wlio watched him from the windows could sou that he did ttirn and lake a long last gaze at the scene ol so many happy hours — the centre of many a brilliant dream ! Bertha was sad, very sad to think that Robert Murray should leave them in such a desponding frame of mind — she would have advised him as a sister to submit, as a Christian should, to the mani- fest decree of Providence, and not to allow his feel- ings and afTections to overcome his reason, but somehow the words had died away on her lips, and her tongue refused to utter them. But her own heart M'as weary, and she dared not analyze the various emotions that kept it in per- petual unrest all those long summer hours. Thouglilt^ many hued and changeful as an April sky Himd across her mind, and anxious fears would make themselves felt, whilst hope had all but vanishcil from her darkened mind and doubt-chilled heart. Her mother watched her with tender anxiety as she TASTK VERSUS FASIllOIf. 3Vl fliticd like a spirit tlirongh Uk? Bilent apfirtinontH in the cool (liin light that fouiiva.i noar llie lime of curfew h>'\[ — " that is to Ray, the time when in olden years " The curfew loIlM tli« knell of partinj; -**-,! Bertha saw him for the first time, and, forgetting for the moment the troubled years that had passed since then, she started to her feet and exclaimed some- what wildly : ''Edgar — Major Montague! how is this? I did not expect to see you now." i " In that case I owe you an apology,*' said Mon- tague dejectedly. "But are you — are you alone?" she asked, glanc- ing round. Strange ! in the spacious drawing-room there were but themselves. " Where is Captain Bellew? — and my mother was here but now?" Montague smiled as he answered: "If so, phe has vanished and Gerald with her." " Gerald !" said Bertha softly as if to herseh", " the name sounds familiar — it recals days long past." " And it is to recall those days to your mind, Miss Von Wiegel, that I am here now," said the musical voice at her side. She started — it was the tone she had so often heard in dreams — never before even from him. She was composing her thoughts, how- ever, to answer collectedly, when Montague, throw- mg open the glass door that led to a verandah over- looking the garden, pointed to the lovely scene without, and said : " Once more. Miss Von Wiegel, before we part, perhaps for ever, I would stand by your side for a few brief moments, as of old, and, with heaven's blue vault above us, and ity myriad Btars, aiid yon silver moon, and the stillness of tb« ■■-. : K ' 394 OLD AND NEW ; OR, night around, call up memories of the past, an'1 question the mysterious future. Will you grant me this one favor ?" He tooiv Bertha's hand, and drew her half uncon- sciously to herself, to the moonlit verandah, par- tially shaded by the overhanging branches of a spreading maple. " Major Montague !" said Bertha, when the sense of her position impressed itself on her mind, " Major Montague,*' and she drew herself up, " I confess I do not understand- »> " How I have taken such a liberty — asked such a favor," put in Montague. " Will you pardon me if I say that that is because you never understood my- self. There was a time when I thought you did, but that is long past." Both were silent a moment, then Montague added : " Do you remember. Bertha ! I mean Miss Von Wiegel ! when we stood on just such a night as this beneath the sepulchral yew in Mucruss Abbey — the others were trying to deciphCi* the Latin inscriptions on the tombs of the eld monks." " How well you remember!" said Bertha with a faint smile." " Remember I why should I not ?" he asked with emphasis. " But I was speaking of the conversation thai passed between us two that night on Innis- falien. I told you, then, that the star of my destiny was struggling through clouds like one that ] pointed out over the lofty brow of Mangerton," '^■•« fASTE VKRSUS FASHION. 395 "Clouds, indeed," murmured Bertha, half abstract- edly, fixing her eyes on the pale planet that waa Bailing across the deep blue sky in lonely majesty. Montague looked at her a moment wiih that Strang?] f -sweet smile peculiar to him&clf, then re- sumed: "You do not seem much interesiad in what T arn Baying, Miss Von Wiegel,'' he said rather coldly, *' have I your permission to go on ?" Bertha bowed assent, and he continued : " I told you the clouds were darkening round me, and that there were times when I almost di'spaired of extri- cating myself. You told me in a voice I can never forget, and with a look that expressed more than the words, that there was One who could nnd would, if I only trusted in Him, have turned my heart from the evil way. I was utterly confounded by the sig- nificant tone in which you spoke those words, and as soon as I recovered the use of my faculties, I was about to ask for an explanaton, when one whom you cannot have forgotten — came and drew you away to look at something in another part of the ruins. Do you remember all that ?" he added in a softer tone. *' Remember ! yes, indeed I do I" said Bertha, so faintly that Montague, gently taking her hand, placed her on a rustic seat that was near, and remained standing by her side. " Did it ever strike you. Miss Yon Wiegel," he resumed, after a momentary pause, '* that our cod I' "■-.,.■ 896 OLD AND NEW ; OR, versations were frequently interrupted in a sirailai way, and by the same person ?" " Major Montague !" cried Bertha, starting to her feet, as if impelled by some new and overpowering impulse, " Major Montague ! let me ask, once for all, what is the object of these allusions to the past ? Is It to gather information from me touching persona with whom we were then connected ? If so, I warn you, I know nothing about those persons more than you do — perhaps not half so much !'' " My dear Miss Von Wiegel !" said Montague with unwonted eagerness, " you seem to forget that I am leaving New York on the day after to-morrow, and that now, if ever, I must reinstate myself in your good opinion — I say reinstate, for I flatter myself I once stood higher in your estimation than I have done of late." Oh ! the wild throbbing of Bertha's heart at that moment, but, exerting all her self-control, she forced herself to say with perfect composure : " Admitting it to be so — what then ?'* " Bertha !" — the young lady drew back a step, and Montague, correcting himself, went on : " Miss Von Wiegel ! permit me to ask you one question, and, in the presence of God, I demand a direct answer : Were you not told something very much to my disadvantage that night at the Druid's Chair ? — answer me, I charge you ! as you and I shall one d'xy answer to God for our thoughts, words and actions!" .\ , . TASTE VERSUS FASHION*. 397 "Adjured so solemnly, I may not refuse," said Bertha, with a pallid cheek and a quivering lip; " I was told such things then and there as I never expected to have heard — of you." "I knew it," he said with a cold bitter smile, *I knew the serpeni hissed potson in your ear thai night, and gave a deaih-blow, as she meant, to my hopes of happiness." A flush of joy passed over Bertha's face, but Mon- tague saw it notj he was so rapt in his own troubled thoughts. At length he turned to Bertha, and said almost sternly : "Pray, Miss Von Wiegel ! what was the nature of her ladyship's communication respecting me ?" "Major Montague!" said Bertha drawing herself up proudly, " I am not aware that you have acy right to demand such information from me " "Demand? assuredly not!" and Montague smiled as he caught the flashing glance that spoke a spirit lofty as his own. " I do but ask it as a favor — as a special favor !" and his voice grew soft as the zephyr's sigh that was breathing amongst the foliage. " But is it right for me to tell you ?" Bertha asked n a hesitating manner. " Right ! why shoi>ld it not be right ? Does not justice require that the criminal hear the charge on which life or death depends ?" " There was no resisting this, and Bertha repeated not without some embarrassment, the ominous words ipoken to her on that memorable night by Lady mmi. 'fail ^' 4 9 1 898 OLD AND NEW ; OB, Susan. Montague listened in breathless attention, while Bertha spoke in a broken and hesitating voice with a flushed cheek and downcast eyes. " It seemed strange that Lady Susan should ad- dress such words to vie^ and what her motive was I know not, but she told me — that Mr. Montague was not free — that he was pledged to some one whom she did not care to name " Montague vehemently broke in : " Did she say BO ? had she the hardihood to say so ?" " She did — she said those very words." "And what more did she say ? Dear Miss Von Wiegel, you will not refuse to tell me?" " She said — oh Major Montague ! can this be true ? She said there was some unlawful connection, and spoke — of a certain — Edith Montague " "Ha! and what of ^^r?" " She said," and Bertha's voice fell to a whisper, ** she said she was your child, born in shame." "My child! Edith Montague my child!" cried Montague with a look and tone that startled Bertha. " Did Lady Susan Blackwood say that?" " I have told you she did — why do you doubt it ?" "And did you believe her ? Bertha Von Wiegel ! look me in the face and say did you believe me so utterly vile as that ?" She did look up and met his passionate glance for a moment, but made no answer. Montague sighed deeply. " You did, thon, believe that monstrous calurany^i ■0W ■^•4.». TASTE VERSU3 FASHlbV. 399 Bertha I I will not — cannot blame you, but I am pained and surprised to think that you could accept such a picture of one whom you had honored with your friendship." For some moments both were silent; Bertha lon)i;ed, yet feared, to ask for a confirmation of her newly-conceived hopes, and Montague seemed as though he were debating with himselt as to what he should do. At last he turned, and seeing Bertha still standing, he said very gently: " You must be fatigued, Miss Von Wiegel — had you not better sit down ?" " Pray excuse me. Major Montague," said Bertha, scarce heeding the words, " am 1 to understand thai you are innocent ot^ — of " " or all the crimes and misdemeanors mentioned by your informant." "Of all?" repeated Bertha, suddenly raising her eyes to his face. " Yes, of all and every one of them — as truly as 1 hope for Heaven's mercy !" A smile of ideflfable joy shone in Bertha's eyes^ but she cast them down to hide it, and merely said: "The clouds, then, are disappearing." She seated herself on the rustic bench, and looked up at Montague who stood before her regarding her with an expression which she could not understand. " Miss Von Wiegel !" said he with some hesita* lion, " ii is not very agreeable, to me at least, to vpeak of oae's self There is one part of the expl^ ■ f ■ «. ^ '■.,fi 400 OLD AND XEW ; OR, ml »:^ w\ nM*l »- never <,..ite got over 't. t,,oet tr f 'T" very tenderly. Poor Ale.. , ,, " ' '"'^ ''^ '°^ed her "ia eye,, ■< L, ]Z Kd hh K 1"" "''^ ""'"^ '" «-".edly,tolose\et ;,,.:'■','''' '^'^^ •'«-' "r "' "And your father?" he",^o':;d7e::''ix-;j Tr"''-' --^ «>^ a time. If the fun^t^LL?' '^"^ <""^ a eon who mi^ht no.,;!?, u *''' "''even left '- nngor would ave endued " ',"'"'"""' ^"^ ''''«• I-sabella being goue, an ^ chiM ?? T.'': '""' ""' betiveea me and the famLT ''''*'^ '" """"e pacified. In ayear o, tToK ^?''' ''" ^^^^ ^'•^i'y - D"..more, a Lr:ht 'i, ^ t"" "f ^"«''' "Wk, but 1 did-and she was I h.r ?' '^"'"^ *» »"'ace of his last two ye.^of if 7'' "'* greatest gaging, and my dear la.: . . f"^"^ 7', '"'"^ ^"■ warm and loving heart " ' '" *"'"' '"><1 * I-o-'J Dunmore, and she f^Z """' '"^ "■« '"'<• «'at had spoiled so noble a! " ''* '^'"•'' «""■"' "Tl-erestiseasn; old'T'"-. '-ben my father died' Sj ^ve"' '"'^"'■^ v^risned very naturally f? 1 (, h. ,Vt, |Mi^.V^^ -S.- V «4 ^ ■ ^ iiifii.: Illi^.-'^ [f^ kt;-i->'':?>; .,.4 •:.\.r'. y^f> V i04 Ol.n AND NEW ; OR, to have the child near him, and at his request T took Iwjr myself to Madrid, where we placed her at school II) a convent not far from the residence of the Eng- lish Ambassador. Are you now satisfied, Miss Von Wiegel ! that my character was blackened to you for an evil purpose ?" " I am — fully satisfieu — may God forgive her who Bo maligned you, and so cruelly shook my faith in man ! But now that I have heard all, it is time to think of my mother and your friend. Do let us join them, or we shall have them coming in search ol ns!" She rose as she spoke — Montague rose, too, and they stood for a moment silent, looking out on the lovely scene. " If I am again Edgar Montagtie,^'' said the major in his most persuasive tones, " may I not hope that you are again the Bertha Von Wiegel of former days ? Shall we not forget the troubled years that have come between, and take up the chain of life from the blissful hours of our earlier acquaintance, before the dark shadow crossed our path ? Bertha !'* he added in a tone of such deep feeling that it reached her inmost heart, "Bertha! you know not how I have loved you even when the ocean lay between us ! From the first hour of our acquaint- ance I felt drawn to you by an irresistible impulse, — it seemed to me that our souls were assimilated to each other, and my highest and holiest aspirations were associated with you. Ji'orgive me if I sf eak too - .; * - .- * \ TA81E VERSUS FASHION. 406 boldly, but there was a time, Bertha, when I dared to think that we were formed for each other, and that you were destined by Providence to lead me to the temple of truth — but that dream of hope vanished all too soon — I saw that you had learned to doubt me, and could not help feeling that Lady Susan was in some way the cause — but, believe me, I had no idea of the depth to which I had fallen in your estima- tion. Even as it was, I was so hurt by your evi- dent distrust of me and the corresponding change in your manner, that I could not bring myself to seek an explanation. But oh ! the dreariness of those long, long years during which I saw you not, nor heard your voice I It was partly to combat the in- creasing melancholy that was preying on my heart that I purchased a commission, hoping that the bustle of military life, and its strict routine of duty, might break the spell that bound me, and banish the cold, statue-like image from my heart ^" " Statue-like," repeated Bertha, without raising her eyes ; " you are complimentary, are you not ?" " I speak the truth : — there was no love, no life in tho image that was shrined in my heart — it was cold as marble, yet there it stood — yes ! even when the revel was loudest, and laugh and song were gayest round the mess-table — when smiles were brightest in the lighted hall — and when the sound of prancing Bleeds and martial music made the life-pulse quicken — Btill that pale, cold, loveless image reigned supreme. Wherever I went you were there — I heard youi J, i; i, V ,4 1 \ ! .',''>■ * . t' , )j V l" '.. ■9 I. ■**' ■:f r-i'.: W''< I i06 OLD AND NEW ; OR, ?...> ■Vi voice in the whisperiug breeze and the murmuring ■water — I saw you in all that was fair and lovely, and I pined for the love of the one heart that I knew could beat responsive to my own. I moved through the dull routine of life as one in a dream — little heed- ing, perhaps little heeded — and no living soul knew aught of what was passing within me except GeraKl Belle w — my ever-fuithful friend. At length a burn- ing desire took possession of me to see you once more and learn from your own lips what cloud it was that had obscured the heaven of our friendshi[». You know how we gained admission here, and I need hardly tell you that although I found you still Estrange and cold as before, I could not teai myself iway, nor yet summon courage to seek an explana- tion, seeing that the result might be a final separa- tion and efface the last vestige of hope." Bertha could not trust her voice for some mo- ments, but as soon as she could venture to speak she said in a low subdued voice: "And how came Lady Susan here now?*' ■ " That I know not — I solemnly assure you I have neither seen nor spoken to her yet, although that drivelling dotard, her husband, called upon us at our hotel the very morning after their arrival, and wished us to call on Lady Susan. But now, Ber- tha! time presses — one word more and I have done. Are we friends a^ain i*" And he took her two handi m his. " Yea, Edgar I we are friends I*' Taste versus fashion. 407 His dark eyes flashed their light into her soul aa he whispered : " And nothing more ? Say, Bertha are we only friends ? Is there nothing due from you to me after years of unrequited love, and years, too, of unjust suspicion?" Bertha looked up into his face with a bright smile. " For the suspicion I owe you an apology, for the love — nothing." "And why, dearest?'* " Because" — and she drew her hands away, and receded towards the door — " because, Edgar Mon- tague ! the marble image of which you spoke h.id a throbbing heart when you thought it coldest — and Its every throb was yours !" She vanished through the doorway, but on the threshold met Gerald Bellew, who laughingly sa- luted her with — " When should lovers breathe their vows, When should ladies hear them, When the moon is on the boughs, And none el^e is near them." " Whither so fast, fair lady ?" She darted past him,, dnd threw herself into her mother's arms in the now lighted drawing-room, murmuring: " Oh, moV fl«r ! I am so happy !" v/t: 408 OLD AND NEW ; OB, CHAPTER XXI. TUB GALLAGHERS UNDER A CLOUD. ^*yA A' I W 'J. There was a scene in the Gallagher mansion on the day following the nocturnal arrival of the Sara- toga party. Mrs. Gallagher was home betimes in the morning, with Fanny and her two youngest daughters, and her voice was the first sound that reached her husband's ears when he started from a troubled dream a little before his usual hour of rising. She was evidently exercising her vocal organs on Ally Brady and her assistant, partly, as Tom supposed, in order to make up for lost time, and partly to " revenge her spite" on all the occu- pants of 66. It was something that Tom could not understand, and probably never did understand, why his angry spouse did not charge directly on the centre that morning instead of wasting her powerful energies on the wings of the domestic army. Now, as aut'iors have a decided advantage over the actors they place on the stage, as regards secret springs and motives, we may tell the reader in confidenoo that good Mrs. Gallagher was, for once in her life, a little afraid to face Tom, and was, therefore, by no means anxious to precipitate the moment of their meeting. So she employed herself, pending the moment of his appearance, in a general survey \^ «3 TASTE VERSUS FASHION. 409 ot ihe ptMtnises, accompanied by a running comment on what came under her observation, which com- ment wasi not very complimentary to Ally Brady's admlnistration/,ro tem,SLnd being delivered in a sharp falsetto voice, reached Tom's ears before mentioned, "When half awaking from fearful slumbers," but, alas ! Tom Gallagher hearing it did not " Think the full choir of heaven near." He arose, however, and descended as soon as might be, to the nether region of his domicile, following the direction of his wife's shrill voice, as herdsmen in forest wilds are guided to their missing sheep or cattle by the sound of their respective bells. The greeting between the husband and wife was neither kind nor cordial ; and Tom telling Ally to hurry in the breakfast, went into the front basement whc/e he found his three daughters. Before many words had passed — for even Fanny was a little abashed in her father's presence that memorable morning — Mrs. Gallagher bustled in in advance of the breakfast. *' Tom !" said she, as she took her wonted place at the table and began to arrange the cups and saucers en the trs^y, " Tom ! we must see and get them girls home to-day. The poor things feel dreadful bad on Hccount of what happened last night. I wonder at you, Tom. to act so and the two strangers to tha ibre !" '• Strangers I" said Tom with more acerbity thau 1-, ji. • A :m ;•- "^l.^ ■■ ^r v;--: »5.». » WW- m m IS .^?M'^ ^■•iS 410 OLD AND NEW ; OR, might be expected from that placid good nature that usually distinguished him, " strangers ! and is it to strangers you've married your two daughters, Ellen?'' *' Oh nonsense ! Tom, that's nothing — they'll not be long strangers, you know! I'm sure you'll be de- lighted with them when you come to know them — they're such nice, genteel young men — I tell you what, Tom!" she added confidentially, "if you knew but all it's a fine chance for Mag and EUie, and I can tell you half the young ladies at Saratoga were crazy after them. Weren't they, Fanny ?" Miss Fanny's corroboration of the evidence was not so hearty or yet so prompt as her mother expected, and that injured parent admonished her by a me- nacing gesture that she had "a crow to pluck with her" the first opportunity. "Nice, genteel young men!" repeated Tom, ''and what do /care about their genteelness? isn't every loafer about the hotels a * nice genteel young man ?' Brown and Green were very nice, and mighty gen- teel young men, entirely! but it wasn't for such genteel young men* that I educated my daughters and scraped money together to leave them inde- pendent. Don't talk to me about them — I wash my hands of the whole business, and I tell you once for all, Ellen ! that the girls must make the best of it now with their nice genteel husbands! My threshold they'll never cross, or a night they'll never sleep ander my roof— unless I find out that the fellows ■ '1 TASTR VERSUS FASHION. 411 ■re really what they say they are — and that's what Id on't expect." " Why, Lord bless me, Tom !" cried Mrs. Gal* lagher bristling up, " you don't mean to say that you'll deny your own daughters V" u If they had respected me as their father I would not, EL'en ! — God forbid ! but they didn't do that — and now I tell you again, as tkey brewed, so they must bake. Not a word more now ! Let them stick to Frost and Winter — Vm done with them !" Tom had by this time swallowed a cup of coffee, and he left the table without saying another word, leaving his wife in a state of consternation and dis- appointment that were hard to describe. Without loss of time, the anxious mother repaired to the hotel where the two brides awaited the sum- mons to go home, or perhaps, Pa himself to escort them. Alas! alas! for human expectations. The long morning past away, and Pa appeared not, nor yet any one from him. They had almost made up \heir minds to venture home, when their mother ar- rived with the rather unpleasant news that the pa- ternal doors were closed against them, and the pa- ternal roof was not then, at least, to cover their heads. Messrs. Winter and Frost looked very in- dignant, and threatened to take their departure (with their wives, of course) instantcr for ' the land of cotton." They had a great mind to do it, tiiey said — but they didn't, owing, doubtless, to the urgent solicitation of their wives, and the repeated "^ . 1 -.■■■.:"''!« 413 OLD AND NEW ) OR, , f •'. ?^\M4t'i'^ Assurance of their mother-in-law that Tom would soon get over it — s/ie knew his way — the first of him was always the worst — and after a week or two he'd come round again and be as good as pie. However " the gay bridegrooms" might feel, or what their opinions were they kept between them- selves, blandly informing Mrs. Gallagher that it was " all right.'* Meanwhile Eliza and her husband called on the young couples, and were so taken with their new brothers-in-law that they invited them all to stay at their house until such time as Pa had cooled do*yn and come to his senses again. The Fo- gartys and Hacketts were invited, with a few other friends, to meet Mr. and Mrs. Winter and Mr. and Mrs. Frost. By a strange coincidence the elders of the respective families absented themselves from " the party," but the young people were delighted with the ease and affability and what-not of the gentlemen from Dixie, who then and there an- nounced their intention of taking Mag and EUie off on a tour within the week, indicatiuj^, at the same time, their intention of shaking the Manhattan dust off their feet when they left New York with their charming brides. Whether this alarming threat, duly reported to him, ad addenda^ had roused Tom Gallagher's patar- nal affection from its nap or what, I am not prepared to say, but he returned home from his business next forenoon at an hour when no one droamed of seeing Liin. To the repeated inquiries of his wife and TASTE VERSUS FASHION. 413 ilaughters as to what brought him home, he scarcely vouchsafed an answer, but it was plain something unusual had happened, and Tom's unwonted silence left his female relatives all in the dark. At last Tom spoke, and his words were words of hope and joy to the troubled mind of his anxious helpmate. " Go for the girls !" said Tom in a magisterial tone, addressing his wife. " The girls ! dear me, Tom ! are you in earnest ?" " I am — go and bring them home !" "And — and their husbands?" " To be sure — I don't want to part husband and wife. Let Frost and Winter come — as they will 1" he added in an under tone. Each of the girls volunteered to go, but no ! their mother conld not let any one else go on so delight- ful an errand, so off she went. Many little arts were employed by the girls, but unsuccessfully, to coax their father to tell them the secret of this sud- den change — for they knew there was a secret — so they told him — but Tom was not to be coaxed on that occasion, and wrapped himself up in a mantle of reserve, which was proof against all manner of assailment. By and by a gentle ring came to the door — a very gentle ring, and Tom himself hastened to answer the summons. The girls ran to get a peep through the half-open door of the parlor, but la ! it was only Atty Garrell, and they heard their father Bay in a low voice, as he ushered him in : " You're just in time, Atty ! I expect them every minute, and ii?;'-i..'ft. •:•■/ ' rv-v vv,- SM' »VC!";v 414 OLD ANU NEW j OR, I wouldn't for all the time you'll lose have you miss It." " Miss what?" said the young ladies one to another, but alas ! there was none to answer the question. A little while and another ring came — a loud, im- perative ring, which could only be given by tlie hand of Mrs. Gallagher, and Mrs. Gallagher surely it was, and EHie and Mag and Jerome Winter and Ruben Frost, all of whom were duly ushered, or ushered themselves, into the parlor. Mag and El lie were seized with an extraordinary fit of filial atfec- tion at the sight of their dear Pa, whom they had not seen for a whole age, and their caresses were quite overpowering. But somehow Pa did not seem at all moved by this unusual display, and his cool, dry, matter-of-fact salutation was not very en- couraging to the young ladies whose hearts were so brimful of love and joy, and hope and expectation, and all manner of pleasant emotions. As for Messrs. Winter and Frost, Tom contented himself with a somewhat gruff nod to each, with the further addition of a curt "How d'ye do, sir?' Whereto the much-amazed Southerners responded with a rather hesitating assurance that they were respectively " Quite well." " God keep you so, gentlemen !" was Tom's very amicable reply, " Pm thinking you'll need both !iealth and strength to keep up these girls in an^ io* t of a decent way 1" < "t gl-$i!5 TASTE VERSU3 FASHIOy. 415 " Oh ! as for that, Mr. Gallagher !" said Winter in a very confident tone, " I guess there a'p.l much to apprehend." " Humph !" grunted Tom, half aloud, " I didn't know people guessed down South !" Hearing this Fanny coughed aiFectedly, and Atty Garrell drew his chair a little out from his usual station behind one of the doors. Mr. Fvost looked at Mr. Winter with a slight expression of dissatis- faction on his face — which, by the way, was decidedly a la corsair in its general character — but whether as regarded the nature of their reception or his choice of words that gentleman had no means of ascer- taming. Mrs. Gallagher was not quite satisfied with the aspect of affairs, and still less the two brides, but they all had to put the best face they could on the matter, and feign a contentment which they did not feel. And Tom sat looking at them all through his half-shut eyes, occasionally glancing at his friend, Atty, behind the door opposite him, with an expres- sion hard to define, but unmistakeablytroubled. At length Mrs Gallagher, tired of this strange uncertainty, and anxious to get to the bottom of the affair at once, said to Mag and Ellie : " Well, girls, I guess you may as well go up stairs and tak« off your things, now that you're come hack for good." She looked at Tom, and Tom looked at her, and then Tom delivered himself as follow* • M ♦ ' v. .« . •'■' ' ^!^ 4l« OLD AND NEW ) OR, " Well ! I don*t know they've come for good.^ Ellen, in regard to the room " " The room ! how ifl that ? I m sure there's room enough !" " There is now, Ellen ! but it won't be long fo. We must cut our coat, you know, accoroling to the cloth, and the cloth will be stinted enough, I can tell you." " Dear melhow you talk !" said Mag. *' Why, he's enough to frighten one, I declare !' affectedly sighed Ellie, whilst Fanny opened her eye€ very wide and fixed them on her father. " Tom Gallagher I" said the mother of the family, " what do you mean ? — out with it at once whatever it is — I'll engage it's some of your foolish tricks you're playing !" " It's a trick I wouldn't liko to play often, then," Baid Tom very much in earnest. *' Poor woman ! like many a one else in the world you don't know what you're talking about. Do you know the news I got this morning ?" Of course no one did know, but all were alarm- ingly anxious to know. " The Speculators' TJank has failed !'* said Tom in a voice which V v: cried hard to keep steady, but failed to do so, and the tears that filled his eyes Bhowed the depth and suicority of his emotion. " Good Lord, Tom ! you're not in earnest?" cried bifl wife, pale as a ghost, while the daughters gav« TA8TF VERSUS FASHlOIf. 417 vent to their consternation in sundry exclamations of terror and alarm. "I guoss I am in earnest!" said Tom dolorously " I oan tell you, Ellen, I never was in less humor of jesiing." " But, Tom dear ! are you sure it's true ?" " Sure enough, God help me !" and Tom drew from his pocket the official notification, and handed it to Atty Garrell to read, for the sight of it renewed his agitation so that he could hardly command bis voice. The letter being read, a chorus of lamenta- tion broke forth from the riother and daughters, tho former bemoaning the loss of their hard, honest earn- ing, the fruit of so many years of steady industry, the latter the probable loss of position and stylish living. EUie and Mag addressed themselves particu- larly to their respective consorts, but those gentle- men appeared to take the matter very coolly, — so coolly, indeed, that it went far to shake Tom's sus- picions as to the reality of their pretensions. Quite philosophical they both were, and made as little to do about the total loss of their father-in-law's moncv as though the event in no way affected tJieir pros- pects. Still they courteously offered their condolence on that very disagreeable occasion, and Mr. Frost went on to say with that " laughing devil in his sneer,'* that he should certainly lose no time in pre paring Lemon vale, S. C, for the family rec«^ption until such time as the affair had blown over in New York. .'I ^ I f. ■ y •..'* . ■!; mm ■■'a 418 OLD AND NEW ! OR. " Oh you dear Frost !" said his wife affectionately patting him on the cheek or rather on the whiskers, " how very kind you are ! — my, I'm so much obliged to you !" Tom, too, expressed his obligations, adding, how ever, somewhat drily, that South Carolina was along way off — and he*d sooner keep the family at home, whatever way they managed. " Of course I have my business still," said Tom, "and this house. Thank God Mr. O'Blarney hadn't them in his clutches, anyhow ! Oh ! the villain ! the villain !*' said poor Tom, rising and pacing the floor with hasty strides, " him of all men — him of all men to rob people that trusted their share in his hands ! Didn't he pass for all as one as a Saint, an out-and- out voteen, and to hear him talk, you'd think he had every other one's interest at heart more than his own ! The black hypocrite — the curse o^ no ! no ! I'll not curse him, bad as he is — the curse will fall on him heavy enough without me adding a stone to the heap ! — come away, Atty ! we'll have to work harder now !" beckoning to his faithful friend and confidant whose face was very considerably longer and lanker than usual, and the tears of sym- pathy standing in his dull eyes ; for Atty was almost as grieved as Tom by this sudden reverse of for- tune — and his guileless heart was troubled within him at the strange sight of his patron's sorrow, so very unexpected, too, after the apparent stoicism which be had previously manifested. Poor Atty knew lit- TVSTE VKRSL'S FASHIOM. 419 tie of the mysterious workings of that great mystery, the human heart ! " But my Lord ! what are we going to do?'' cried Mrs. Gallagher, fdUing into a chair in a state of consternation. " In the first place," said Tom, •' we must let oi pell this house." (A groan from Mrs. Gallagher and each of the young ladies.) "In the next place, we must get rid of the coach, coachman and horses 1" (Another groan from the " womankind.") " Also, the box at the Opera." ("Mercy on us! Pa!") " And lastly, we must take a small house in York- ville, or somewhere out of town where we can live cheaper than we do here.*' This was the climax of misfortune, and the ladies' voices suddenly failed them ; pale and wan, and en- tirely hopeless in their misery, they looked into each other's eyes and seemed at a loss whether to cry or not to cry. Meanwhile the two polar gentle- men were also exchanging looks, hut of a very dif- ferent signification. Presently they took up their nats and canos, and Mr. Winter spoke on behalf of self and friend. "Before you go, Mr. Gcillagher, it nay be well to havo an understanding with regard 't'.-;' 0. m ^W' '.'1 Mi .i«^ 426 OLD AND NEW ; OR, that Atty Garrell himself began to dress up quite a la mode, and to hohi his head some inches higher since the Gallaghers fell from their high estate. There was no accounting for that, anyhow — so the people said, — but then, you know, what the peop-e says ii not always true. TASTE VERSUS FASHION. 437 CHAPTER XXII A FKW moments sufficed to explain matters to Madam Von Wiegel, and Montague, with thought ful delicacy, detained Bdlev on the piazza. Madam Von Wiegel, having heard ill that was necessary of what had passed, tenderly embraced her daughter, and whispered} " I knew all would come right at last," then went herself to invite the gentlemen to join them in the drawing-room. Fiankly extending her hand to Montague she said in a voic^ faltering with emotion : " For the first time, Edgar Montague ! I bid you welcome ! — Son of Harry Montague ! welcome to my heart !" Major Montague took the offered hand and bowed over it, then raised it to his lips with filial respect and the grace that accompanied all his actions. " Madam Von Wiegel," said he, " you know not how many emotions are throbbing in my heart as you thus address me. Not least amongst them is the awakened remembrance of a loved though per- haps erring father, for I am not ignorant, my dear madam ! of the relations in which you once stood to each other, and I can bear willing testimony to the lender friendship, the profound respect with which my dear father regarded you to his last hour.*' " Upon my honor, Montague," broke in Bellew, 3'- '' ■ ; 1 * ■ !'■•'■ Ms**; mi. mm 428 OI,D AND NEW ; OR, " it's a singular coincidence to say the least of it, that you should do homage to the daughter's charms as your noble father did to the mother's ! I'm de- lighted to hear, however, that ' the course of true love* is beginning ' to run smooth' in your case, con- trary to the saying of the immortal Williams (as the French translator called the Bard of Avon), to wit, that said course never does run smooth." "Were you not an interested party, Belle w I" returned Montague laughingly, " I shoyiild thank you very sincerely — you may not be aware, Madam Von Wiegel ! that— shall I go on, Gerald ?" " A pretty question truly, when you have said enough already to excite the curiohity of a.iy daugh- ter of Eve!" " Well 1 then, madam," proceeded Montague, " be it known to you that Captain Gerald Bellew here present holds the promise of your fair niece, Miss Eveleen O'Donovan, to take him for better, for worse, — I quote his own words — on condition that- n " There now !'* said Gerald laughing merrily, " I knew you couldn't get through it — allow me to finish ! The condition alluded to, my dear madam, by my honorable and gallant friend, was that a proper understanding should first be effected be- tween — the Doge of Venice, there, as Robert Mur ray might say, and — the Adriatic yonder !"• point* * I presume our gay captain was referring just then to the lymbolical ceremoDj which annually took place in Venice 'M TASTE VERSUS FASHION. 429 tog over his shoulder. " It was Miss Eveleen'a pleasure to maintain all through that — ahem ! that there was no lave lost between the two — and she posi- tively declared that a ring should never be put ou her finger, by me at least, until Edgar and Bertha were ready to start with us on the high road to hap- piness." "And how do you know we are so now ?" " I don't know it, but I guess it, — albeit not much given to guessing." " My dear Captain Bellew !" said Madam Von Wiegel, " you give me very great pleasure, indeed 1 I am, then, to consider you as my nephew elect ?" And she held out her hand which Bellew warmly shook. " Undoubtedly, madam I always providing inat Edgar Montague be your son-in-law elect." Hearing this, Montague changed color, and was evidently discomposed, but he forced a smile and said, as they followed Madam Von Wiegel into the drawing-room, " Really, Gerald ! your good-nature outstrips your discretion. I must beg you to re- member that I am principal in this matter !" " There you are, my Lord High Constable ! or wha ■hall I call him. Miss Von Wiegel ?" ^ 'ressiug that young lady who was just re-entering the drawing- room after giving some brief orders in the kitchen. during her reign of t .osperity, viz., the dropping of a ring by Ihe Doge into the Adriatic Soa— aUegoricaliy considered tho Bride of Vemce. f^;.. 480 OLD AND NEW ; OR, rt^ m:j'- I'? .«.* » r' 1 i« 1-.. f^' " Call who ?" " Why, Edgar Montague, to be sure I" " For myself I cannot say," Bertha replied with that spiritual archness which at times gave ; \ncy to her manner ; " I have heard him mentiojied by divers names all suggestive of high mightiness." " Yes, yes," said Montague with his calm smile, " I know ihere are some hereabouts who hold me in extraordinary h?gh estimation — Lieutenant Murray, to wit !" " But, Bertha, my child ! I have news for you," said her mother; " would you believe it ? I have just learned that Captain Belle w is the accepted candi- date for our dear Eveleen's hand ?" "Remember the condition, madam!" put Bel lew with maWce prepense. " I am more pleased than surprised by that news, mother," said Bertha with a beaming smile j " 1 have long suspected as much." " Perhaps you suspected more," said Bellew with ely emphasis, "the trifling condition, namely, on which Eveleen gave her consent to assume the name and arms of Bellew ?" " Condition !" repeated Bertha in surprise, " wha condition ?" She looked at Montague, perhaps un consciously. " Shall 1 tell her. Madam Von Wiegel ?" asked Montague, " you see this loquacious friend of mine has got that word ' condition'' on his tongue, and must, tbrsootb! thrust it into everything! It is lite-?,?! TASTE TERSUS FASHIOK. 4 1 easily seen that my poor Gerald is a true Celt, and caijoot, if he would, keep a secret !" " Nay, that is hardly fair, major ! seeing that I have kept yours so long and faithfully !'* Availing himself of the old lady's kindly nod of assent, Montague drew Bertha's arm within his, and they walked out again on the piazza. A change had come over the fair scene since they saw it last, short as the time had been. Clouds were drifting at in- tervals over the blue sky, and the winds were aris- ing as if from eleep. shaking the branches with no gentle motion, and scattering their leaves, " the summer's pride," in all directions. " Were we inclined to be superstitious," said Mon- tague, raising his eyes to the dense cloud which just then obscured the queen of night, "we might augur ill from so sudden a change in the face of nature at this critical juncture of our afiairs! But I know you are as little influenced by such idle fears as I am myself." " But only think, Edgar ! if this rough weather should continue — at this particular time" — her voice failed her and she stopped. "I know what you mean. Bertha! and my heart t4ianks you for your tender foresight — but / have nc fears — will not He who has care over the birds of the air protect my life and our dear Gerald's, even for the sake of those who deign to feel interested in our welfare?" " Why, Edgar I you speak as a Ohristian I" It .f,, A. i i.< ■*.. '?■■ :ii- t ; t ^ F ■'■•■■ ■■'V 1',. * "t ^ If^iv'-;; [■■|)'h n'. I, ^n- c_jril*? 1^ ft- *' ^32 OLD AND NEW ; OR, Montague smiled and went on: ''I mast not de« tain you long liere, Bertha ! for the storm seema rather increasing " *' It is not cold,, though, and I love to look abroad on a storray lanrlscape, when the winds are at play, and the clouds sweep over the vault of heaven." " Even so It is with me, Bertha ! — it seems as tnough the passionate wailing of the winds and the wild commotion of the elements stir up the latent energies of our being, and raise us higher in the scale of creation. At such times we are brought, as it were, face to face with the Great Spirit of tlie Universe whose voice thunders in the storm. But," ne added in a softened tone, " we have little time to spare now for such sweet communings — a time will 'jome, I fondly hope, when our lives shall flow on together towards the ocean of eternity — now I meant but to tell you of the * condition' to which Gerald had reference." He told her, then added in a trt^mulous voice: "What think you, now. Bertha! of Gerald's chance — and mine .?" " Before I answer that question," said Bertha, *' you must answer another, on which, after all, our fate depends. You may probably remember what I once told you, that if I ever had a husband he must be a Catholie. In the days of our isweetest intercourse — forgive me, Edgar ! if I was wrong — I fancied that your mind and all your habits cf thought wero essentially Catholic — else had I never-- — '* *¥i';,'%- ''?; f^'f! ... I '\STE VERSUS FASHION. 439 *'Kever loved me i** said Montague very, v^ry loftly ; " v,'hy should you hesitate to say it niw?'''' *' Well ! — be it so — else had I never loved you. Say, Edgar ! did my heart deceive me ? — was I mistaken?" Siie suddenly turned towards him, and looked up into his face with an intensity that was almost pain- ful to behold. Edgar Montague smiled — oh ! how beautiful his smile v/as then — and he laid his hand on Bertha's pale brow, and tenderly smoothed down the dark tresses by which it was shaded, and lie said in his calm, full voice: "Bertha! you were not mistaken ! I have had the happiness of being a Catholic for the last two yearn. I was re- ceived into the Church by a Spanish priest in Ma- drid. Nay, I am even a child of Mary !" And he drew from his bosom the brown scapular of the Order of Mount Cavmel. " Once in the ruined chapel of St. Bernard, at Mellifont, when you spoke to me of the great Cistercian's love for Mary, I told you that if I had Bernard's faith, I, too, would be a ser- vant of that glorious queen, " Now Heaven be praised !" cried Bertha with a burst of joyful emotion ; " now — now, indeed, shall we be united — for eternity !" " But you forget. Bertha! that time is before eter- nity. Shall we not be united here first, that toge- ther we may win our way to the mansions of eter- nal bliss? hope?" Tell me, dear one l what have I to 1.' * u ■"i^" i ;* -i^r ,>•(< : :i*,l'r- 434 OLD AND NEW ; OR, B:m •i':*'' " Hope all things !" said Bertha with a blush and a Emile. " See ! the clouds are dispersing, and the winds subsiding — even so, Edgar ! shall the st.orm«» of life pass away for us — you will come back — per haps soon — from that Indian land — and then — this hand shall be yours as this V .rt is now !" Montague sighed, smiled sadly H' he drew Ber- tha's arm within his: "The chanc j of war are a dim uncertain medium through which ti> look for happiness. Your promise is much, Bertha, but it ij not enough! We must take your mother into our councils." " I was goir.g in search of you," said Madam Von Wiegel, meeting them at the door. " And I was beginning to fear," laughed Gerald Bellew, " that Master Boreas, blustering railer as he is, had taken you both bodily on his wings to the polar regions. How goes our suit, Edgar ?'* " Reasonably well — but our respective claims of happiness are still far distant. That is precisely what I wished to speak of now to Madam Von Wiegel." Hearing this Bertha retired to a window at the farther end of the room. There she stood for some moments apparently intent on the yet change- ful aspect of the heavens, but in reality trying to still the wild tumult of her emotions, and preserve at least a degree of outward composure. All at once slia heard Bellew's clear, ringing laugh, and his joyous " Hurrah! the day is ours !" and the next moment Montague's voice wbispercd at her side, as be took TASTE VERSUS FASHIOK. 435 hsr hand to lead her to her mother : " Bertha! your mother consents " "Consents to what?" she asked like one in n dream. " To our union — think of that, Bertha ! — why, how is this ? — you are pale — you tremble !" *' To our union, Edgar ! when ! how ?" she gasped for breath. •'* Be calm, dearest ! or I shall begin to fear that you do not love me, after all — that you dread taking the irrevocable vow which will make you mine !" "Not 10 ve you!" she repeated with a strange smile, " oh no, Edgar Montague 1 you could not fear that ! — but the thought of being your wife ! — mo- ther I" she had now reached the fauteuU where her mother sat, " mother ! what has Edgar been asking of you !" " My consent to a certain life-contract between you two — that is all !" said the old lady repressing a sigh at the same time. " With the proximate result of another between your humble servant, and — you know who !" said Bellew with overflowing gaiety, quoting Bertha's own words on a former occasion. *' And I have ventured to ask for a further exten- sion of the favor, ^* said Montague ; " my dear madam, will you tell Bertha how far I have presumed on your maternal kindness to me ?" " M.ijor Montague has been trying to persuade me. Bertha !" said the old lady in a voice that trem* km!',. 436 OLD AND NEW ; OR, ■i *■'■ V.-J m > (3'- i 5 Jj;'- <■•,^i^T'■. . W¥--'' bled in spite of her efforts to keep it firm, " that— that it is expedient to have the marriage solemnized before he leaves here. He says he cannot bear >j leave you again without the security of the mar- riage-tie. He says, as your husband, he can brave every danger, and steer through every tempest, guided by the star of hope." " Do you, then, fear to trust my love, Edgar ?" eaid Bertha, regarding him with a mournful smile. " Assuredly not, after what has passed — but I cannot divest myself of a fear that my evil genius might again interpose between me and happiness." " Do you mean that I should go with you to India ?" she added in a low troubled voice. •* Heaven forbid !" cried Montague turning pale, •' the very love that fills my heart would prevent me from carrying selfishness so far as to take you from your mother's side to share my dangers and priva- tions on the burning plains of Asia ! Nay, dearest ! I asked not that, but only that you should become my wife before I leave New York, and remain with your mother until I return — if return I ever do !" Bertha shuddered, " Talk not so, I beseech you, Edgar ! I will have no t/i about it. Still," she added, starting from the ottoman vvhereon she had thrown herself beside her mother, and looking in nis face with passionate eagerness, " still — an tf cannot kill you, and if it were Heaven's will that you should fall — that I should never look upon your face again— I would be vours even in death — it were sometbmp TASTE VERSUS FASHION. 431 to bear your name, — Edgar ! I conseat — if my dear mother is willing." " Heaven bless you, my dearest child !'* said Madam Von Wiegel in a choking voice ; " I desire only your happiness, and I know — I fee! that this union will secure it. It may be as well — better on some accounts — that the marriage should take place before Major Montague's departure for India, and as we have had some thoughts of selling this place to a near relation of my husband's— a Von Wiegel, too — and going home to Castle Mahon, we shall lose no time in carrying out that intention, so that you can join us the sooner on your return from India." " A thousand thanks, my dear mada;u !" said Mon- tague shaking her hand warmly; "that, will, indeed, expedite our meeting !" " And we shall all be together," said Bo^rtha look- ing archly at Bellew, " for the grand affair to come off, on your return, at Castle Mahon, when dear Uncle Gerald will give Eveleen away at the altar, and the hearts of the O'Donovan tenantry will be made glad by the festivities of a wedding — a novel event now-a-days at Castle Mahon, my mother's be- ing the last that took place there." " Heigho!" sighed Bellew with mock gravity but real feeling, " Heaven only knows when that will come to pass. However," he added with assumed gaiety, " next to my own, I shall be best pleased to see Edgar's. Let us see — it must be to-morrow, you know I" -^-f ,. , ;>•■'■ f- T •>•■■ - [d^t.^' m 438 OLD AKD NEW ; OR, " Supper on the table, ma-dam !" cried Jan at the door, and Bellew was on his feet in an instant to make his bow to Madam Von Wiegel, leaviog Bertha thereby to Montague. As they descended the wide staircase, Bellew made a march for his own feet, humming in an audible voice, to Madam Yon Wiegel's great amusement : " Bow, brothers, row, for the pride of the Highlands, Honor'd and bless'd be the ever-green pine ! Boon may the rose-bud that graces yon islands, Be wreath'd in a garland around him to twine !" " I say, major ! couldn't we manage to slip a pme- tree anywhere into the Montague arms ?" " I fear not," said Montague laughing, " the pine is not indigenous to our Jield. But why this herald- ric conceit now, I pray you ?" " Why, I was just thinking that the dark-browed chief of Clan- Alpine might possibly have been a re- mote progenitor, and, by-the-bye, Edgar ! that French name of yours analyzed does savor of the mountains — MorU-ague — steep mountain — seriously Edgar ! did you ever observe that ?" " I cannot Si^y I did — many thanks for your infor- mation." They had now reached the table, and conversation was suspended till the business of the hour was happily commenced. . When the little party returned to the drawing' room the gentlemen would have taken their leave, but Bertha whispered a request that Montaguo TASTE VERSUS FA8HI0X. 439 would play some one of her old favorites before h« went. She handed him at the same time a small flute which he had left there some days before. " What shall I play ?" he asked, but without wait- ing for an answer he commenced " True Love can ne'er Forget." Bertha's eyes filled and her cheek flushed, remembering the last time she heard that touching strain. When the music ceased Madam Von Wiegel ex- claimed : " Bertha ! that was the third air I heard in that pleasant dream, and which I could not remem- ber. You know I told you of it next day — it wa$ a heart-soothing strain." " Something akin to the harmony of the spheres- was it not, mother?" said Bertha smiling through her tears, and looking archly at Montague. " Per- haps Edgar could enlighten you as to the unseen musician — but I forgot — he was up somewhere in the Hudson Highlands that memorable night — how was that, Edgar ?'* she asked, with a sudden change from gay to grave. " Were you, or were you not in our vicinity that night ?'* Montague smiled. " Possibly I might have been— - m a fit of somnambulism.'* "But I thought you said when we first saw yon here that you had been for the two weeks previous ambling through the Highlands?" " Yes, but he did not tell you," said Bellew, be- ginning to button up, " that we had arrived in town back again that very aflernoon. There is strong p^ ■■ *, l!>^ ,fV .... U 440 OLD AND NEW ; OR, J0M presumptive evidence against you, Edgar !" he gaily added nodding at his friend, " you had better let the case go by default, and us by rail." ** If you were at Castle Mahon to-night you would be in no such hurry, my good fellow ! — Lead on, however,! follow — waiving my military precedence !" " Nay, one song before you go !— it may be the last you will sing for us — here at least !" whispered Bertha, her hand on his arm. There was no resisting, no thought of resisting that pleading voice, and making a sign to Bellew to wait a few moments, Edgar took his seat at the piano, and, running his finger over the keys with a freedom and ease that showed him master of the instrument, he paused a moment, then began in a voice so rich, full and harmonious, and, at the same time, so expressive of deep feeling, that it sank into every heart, Mrs. Hemans^ beautiful Parting Song, let to a Eofl Italian air : " When will you think of me, my friends ! When will you think of me 1 When the last red light, the farewell of day, From the rock and the rirer is passing away, When the air with a deepening hush is fraught, And the heart grows burden'd with tender thought, Then let it be 1 " When wiH you think of me, kind friends ! When will you think of me 1 When the rose of the rich midsumraer-time Is ilird with the hues of its glorious prime, When ye gather its bloom, as in bright houn TA8TK VERSUS FASHION. 44i from the walks whore my footateps no more may tread, Then let it be i " When will ye think of me, sweet friends I When will ye think of me I When the sudden tears o'erflow your eye, At the sound of some olden melody, When ye bear the voice of a mountain stream, When ye =j1 the charm of a poet's dream. Then let it be!" "Tou will excuse me from singing the last stanza," said Montague rising, " you know its purport. Ber- tha ! and how far it is from being adapted to my peculiar circumstances.* Assuredly, it is not well for me ' to be fled and gone.' Good night !" And with one glance at Bertha's drooping face, he fol- lowed Belle vv from the room and the house, with an understanding that they were to return next morning for an early breakfast. The arrangements for the marriage were all made within half an hour after breakfast, and with the aid of the parish priest, a dispensation was obtained, and the ceremony took place the same evening ia the oratory of Rheinfeldt House, with no other wit- ♦ As our readers may not know it as well as Bertha, they may probab'y wish to see it. It is as follows : " Thus let my mem'ry be with ye, fr endal Thus ever think of me t Kindly and gently, but as of one, For whom it is well to be fled and gone, As of a bird from a cage unbound, As of a wand'rer whose home is foond, Thus let it be!" ■.:' «'■ il 443 OLD AND NEW ) OR, y^^ It lit' lU^i ' * '.>iiA nesses than Mr. Murray and Alice, who was, of course, bridesmaid, Captain Bellew and Madam Von Wiegel, with Jan and Betty in the distance. The news and the invitation had come on the Murrays that morning like a thunderbolt. It was, indeed, nothing more than they had expected, but now when expectation was becoming certainty, and poor Robert's chance of success was passing away forever their hearts were weighed down with a sad- ness which they tried in vain to combat by thinking and speaking of Bertha's happiness. Mr. Murray Bpoke his mind freely to Alice, and railed at Mon- tague to his heart's content, while dressing for the great occasion ; but Alice did not open her mind so freely to her father — at least, I fear she did not. There was a faint drooping of the eyelids and a touching tremor in the voice, at all times soft and low, that would have struck an acute observer; but such was nc' Mr. Murray, at least on that occasion, and well for him that it was so. When Alice arrived at Rheinfeldt House early in tho afternoon, her greeting to Bertha was as kind and sisterly as usual, and a smile lit up her sweet features as she whispered : " I knew you were made for each other — but it does seem so strange !" " You will not think so, dear Alice ! when I tell you all — for now — I mear when they are gone" — Bertha's voice faltered — " you shall know all !" When the hour appointed came, and the priest was at the altar, and Mr. Murray in waiting to givu TASTE VERSUS FASBIOK. 443 away the bride, and Madam Von Wicgel with a face half smiles half tears, seated in her large chair drawn up near the altar steps at one side, and Jan and Betty, looking very happy, seated on a bench side by b'de in the background of the picture, then Edgar Montague and Bertha Von Wiegel took their places in front of the little altar, with its lights and flowers surrounding the Cross and the Madonna, and Gerald Bellew beside his friend, and Alice Murray close to Bertha, it was a sight that would have rejoiced a painter's eye. " Yet 'Lis not in the blushing bride, all be,\uteoa3 as she seems, Like angel-forms thro' air that glide to bless a martyr's dreams, — Not in the bridegroom's stately mien, dark eye and daring brow, The sight that chains mine eye w seen, and fills my boeom now. Seest thou that pale yet lovely maid, companion of the bride, In robes of virgin- white array'd, and kneeling at her sidel Mark her dim eye and bloodless cheek— ah! wherefore doet thou start 1 Too well thou know'st that both bespeak the struggling of • the heart! In silence and in solitude a fatal flame was nurst, And now that flime, still uosubdued, thus must she brave the worst I" When the ceremony was ended, and the nuptial blessing pronounced, and Edgar Montague clasped his wife in a first embrace, Alice heard his impas- sioned whisper — " Mine — for ever mine !" and she Of U,M,. 444 OLD AND NEW ; OR, caught the glance that spoic©, more thai the words, the treasured love of years — the gushing, tremhling, exulting joy that the heart feels when its prize is won, and its hour of triumph come at last. Then as Edgar led Bertha to her mother, and smilingly 8:iid, " il/>-5. Montague P^ and both knelt to receive the maternal bleising, Alice Murray shrank tremb- ling back, whispering low to her own heart, "Who could think so much love was hidden beneath that cold, proud, passionless exterior ! oh Bertha, happy, indeed, is your lot ! — and his ! — may the future fulfil the bright promise of the present, and your lives be one long, long dream of joy !" " I'm glad poor Robert is not here I" was her next thought, as her anxious look turned on her father's unusually clouded brow. When the priest and all present, not excepting Jan and Betty, had oflfered their congratulations to the bride and groom, the company returned to the drawing-room, and Bertha and Alice retired together. During the half hour which they spent in friendly commune. Bertha saw, all unknown to Alice, far deeper into the poor girl's heart than was good for her own peace, for slie loved Alice as a younger sister, and she grieved to see the " silent sorrow" that was y ^y^ g on her young heart. Neither could she nsolatir^n, for the subject was one to whic he could not pnidently allude. Her diecovery, paii.ful ts it was to her, was only manifested outwardly by an increase oi tenderness in her tone and manner when address* TA8TK VKKSUS FASHIOK. 445 ing her young friend. But it placed a restraint on her natural candor, for she could not, or would not epeak of the happiness that filled her own heart, tha joy that pervaded her entire being, — certainly not to Alice Murray, dear and trusted as she was ! Betty had called in some assistance that day of a high professional character in the culinary line, and by ten o'clock, when Jan, after taking a last exulting look at the table he had been setting, went to the drawing-room door to announce supper, it was no wonder that his tone was more magisterial than usual, for the table his genius had decorated was lit for the banquet of a prince. The old family plat«, brought by the first American Von Wiegel to New Amsterdam, and still the wonder of garish, frippery, electro-plated New York, glittered that night on the Bupper-table amid fruit and flowers and flashing wines whose hues were as varied as their vintage, and all reflecting the flood of light streaming down from the massive, many-branched candelabra. It was a time and a scene to make hearts glad, and hearts were glad, for no sadness could with, stand the genial influence of the hour. Montague, enlivened by the sunshine of happiness, appeared in a different light altogether ; no cloud rested on his noble brow, no cold reserve shrouded the brilliant qualities of his mind, or the exquisite refinement of his feelings and sentiments. Gerald was delighted to see him talk and act in the old familiar way, and Mr. Murray, notwithstanding his prepossession :•'''■•' t ' i.''.' i'l W-ik I ;.,r y. iwR li^^BH^Bl VH>4 ^^■fe^E^^^Bi 'l . ijlHi^^K i*-: ^^W^H: ' V^'^^; I^^H i"'^9 ..'■I.' '« ^v n-'''\ ?'■ , 'i. ' l!v':.: >;: r.' *• .V' . ■ i 446 OLD ^K'D NEW ; OR, against him, could not resist the ineffable charm that hung around him. Little did the good old man suspect that every look and every word of Montague's, on that last night, were treasured all too deeply in one gentle heart whose peace was dearer to birn than his own life. So he only thought of Robert, and often that evening he murmured to hf.mself: "Poor Robert! small, in- deed, were your chances against him !" Madam Von Wiegel looked and 'istened with a smile now bright and happy, now sad and tender, on her placid countenance, as the charm of the present or the memory of the past filled her mind. And Bertha — oh ! it was hard to say ivhat Bertha felt, as her ear drank in Edgar's voice, and her eyes, often filled with tears, ran over the lineaments of that dear face that was soon to be a memory — a cherished dream. What a world of sad yet sweet intelligence was exchanged in their glance when their eyes met, and how many times that evening did the dark cold shade of the morrow's parting fall athwart the brightness of the present moment. Once Edgar Montague whisperedwhen he saw the tear that Ber- tha would fain have hidden : " Even so it is, dearest, " ' Life is made up of miserable hours ; Atid all of which we craved a brief possessing, For which v;e wassted wishes, hopes and powers, Comes wiih some fatal drawback on the blessing, We might have Iweu I' "♦ * MifisLanc^oD. TASTE VERSUS rASHION. 441 zence met, cold the dgar Bel- lies L *' How will it be to-morrow, Bertha ! when wa tome to part, ' it may be for years, and it may be for ever ?' " " Nay, when that moment comes," said Bertha proudly, " I shall not forget that I am a soldier's wire !" " There spoke my Bertha !" whispered Edgar again, his eyes sparkling with exultation. " Gentle and loving — high and noble, such did my fancy paint you in tlie dark days when I feared you were lost to me forever!" And Bertha kept her word. When they parted next day no outward sign betrayed the mighty grief that swelled her heart. Were it not for the deathly palor of her cheek and brow, dnd the tre- mulous motion of her bloodless lip, none could sus- pect the wordless, tearless anguish with which she returned his last fond greeting, and saw him leave her, perhaps forever, almost on their wedding-d&y. "V 448 OLD AKD NEW ; OB, CHAPTER XXIIT. iW; ;,£!:■■■■ , !ii» m&:''y MATTERS IN GENERAL. We will now for the last time pay our respects to the Gallaghers, Fogartys and FT ^cketts. The failure of the Speculators' Bank, as, perhaps, the shrewd reader may already have guessed, turned out no so V ery great misfortune after all. It is true, the family in falling from their high estate, had fallen to a cor- responding depth in the minds of all truly fashion- able people, but that was only natural, for when did misfortune or humiliation ever retain a place in the mind or heart of fashion — supposing it to have those useful appendages of humanity ? This gave Tom Gallagher little trouble, for Tom had (we say it under the rose) but a sorry opinion of '^ stylish people" in general, and was an incorrigible heretic in regard to the doctrines of fashion. The truth was that he seemed to feel far more at home in the country cottage than he ever did in the town man- sion, and were it anything shovt of his whole fortune he would gladly have purchased the compawUive ease and freedom he now enjoyed with regard to his wearing apparel. Good Mrs. Gallagher and even her daughters seemed to have got the lucky idea in their heads that nobody noticed poor pa, or the cut or condition of his ipper or lower garments TASTE VERSUS FASHION. 449 Since that oily individual Mr. O'Blarney of the Specu- lators' Bank had whisked away with his money. I regret to say that the ladies were not quite so philo- sophical with regard to themselves and they struggled hard — in fact desperately — to retain a foothold some- where on the verge of fashionable society, whence they might catch a view, however distant, of the glittering world from whose golden gates they were now as effectually debarred as was the Peri of the Eastern tale what time she " at the gate Of Eden stood, disconsolate; And as slie listened to the springs Of life within, like music flowing, And caught the light upon her wings, Thro' the half-opened portal glowing, She wept to think her recreant race Should e'er have lost that glorious place I" Mrs. Frost and Mrs. Winter were the most to be pitied of all the family, and yet somehow they managed, after a little while, to carry their heads as high as ever, and almost make people forget their Saratoga matches, made " in evil hour." Mag, es- pecially, throwing shame overboard sailed smoothly along in the bark of confidence, and stared the staring world out of countenance, till at last it went on its way and left her, and Ellie, too, in peace — if not " the world forgetting," at least by " the world forgot." It was a fortunate thing for both sisters that they were not troubled, either of them, with any painful degree of sensibility, and although theii V •« ♦:■ ■■v^ . I )!!;* 1^ '' '. ."l ■ 1* ■ i I'l'-s'i-. . ! 450 OLD AND NEW ; OB, prospects were blighted, ats far ns matrimony was concerned, they cared comparatively little so long as they could keep up appearances in regard to dress — minus, however, the moire aiitiques, Avhich were now antique remembrances to the luckless Gsllagher belles. Miss Fanny tried hard to keep up the prestige of her greatness, when the greatness itself had departed for ever and aye, but somehow she didn't succeed. Let her put on ever such airs, she couldn't get peo- ple to look up to her as they used to do, or at least appear to do, when she was prime minister in the realm of No. 66, and ruled, as a queen, over all who crossed the threshold of that spendid mansion. Poor Fanny ! she found, to her cost, that lofty airs don't impress people — but, " quite the con~tra-ry, which is remarkable" — as Rory O'More, or some- body like him, says — when they figure in a two-story cottage with cane-bottomed chairs, and all such vul- gar appurtenances. ' The worst of it was that, what with the unlucky Saratoga matches, and the still more unlucky de- falcation of Mr. O'Blarney and the Speculators' Bank, together wnth another little reason which, though not to be told " in Gath," no, nor whispered '* in the streets of Ascalon," must needs be whis- pered in the reader's ear, viz. : that Miss Fanny'fi mirror no longer told a flattering tale, but actually began to warn her that if ever she meant to annex any oi Adam's male descendaats it mu^t be douQ l^l^:lJi^,^>, :»»•'(' ^M* TASTE VERSUS FASHION. 451 without loss of time, for alas ! that 1 should have to write it : " She look'd in the glass, and she thought she could trace. A sort of a wfinkle, or two !" But do you think Miss Fanny sat down under the grief of this alarming physiognomical discovery, and began to sing that dolorous ditty : " Nobody coming to marry me, Nobody coming to woo — Nobody coming to marry me, Oh dear ! what shall I do 1" N"ot she, indeed ; so craven a thought never could or never did enter Into Miss Gallagher's well-dressed head. She made up her mind that she would annex somebody, which she did in gallant style, and who does the reader think she annexed. Why who but Atty Garrell, — don't laugh, reader, pray don't ! for Atty was now Tom Gallagher's partner, and his name was represented by the two letters Co. on the newly-painted sign " Gallagher & Co.," which swayed to the breezes that found their way through Centre Market, in front of Tom's still well-furnished stall. It turned out in Tom's greatest need that his faithful friend and counsellor had a couple of thousand dollars of well-earned money in one of the City Savings' Banks, which money cheerfully and indeed beseech- ingly placed at Tom's disposal enabled that worthy man to weather the storm successfully. In the ful- ness of his gratitude he took Atty into partnership, a step which he never had cause to regret, nor Fanny t .>'; 452 OLD AND NEW : OR, a"*. • ' 1 t..." p. J'' i(? TASTE VERSUS TASHION. 453 Annie Gkillagber wrote in one of her letters to her sister Eliza : " I can now see, dear Eliza, what was the grand fault with us all in the days of our short- lived prosperity — we were too much given to dis- play, and straining after effect, and busied ourselves en- tirely about dress and all such things, to tlie exclu- sion of matters far more important — in a word, I can now see the difference that exists between TasU and Fashion — the Old and the New, in other words the quiet, easy, natural life of those to whom wealth and position are not new, when compared with the empty, artificial, make-believe life of people who are, as we were ourselves, wholly devoted to show. Since I came to live with dear Mrs. Montague and that sweet old lady, her mother, I have learned many, many things which will, I hope, be useful to you all if I live to return amongst you, which will not be for some time, though, as I am too happy here to wish t9 leave it at present. Tell father I went my- self with the money to his Aunt Biddy, but there was no Aunt Biddy there to give it to — she died six months before — so 1 gave the money to the parish priest to have Masses said for her soul, and I gave a pound or two of my own to the people she used to lodge with. So poor Aunt Biddy is gone at last. Heaven rest her soul !" A year or two after that, the youngest of the Miss Gallagher's, Janie by name, was chosen for a help, mate by Willy Fogarty, so that the alliance between the families was strengthened by a double bond, and, M. iff if.-'is HA m^. 1 I wa Sp-i' W^ jf^M^': i «jfe 454 OLD AND NEW ; OR, £ believe, this second union turned out no worse than the first, but rather a shade better, owinpf, per- haps, to the salutary depression of the family ther- mometer. So, with their daughters thus variously disposed of, Tom Gallagher and his thrifty spouse went jogging along their remaining path of life con- tentedly enough, considering all that had come and gone — the stall in Centre Market kept up its first- class reputation, and the cottage by the Third ave- nue gradually assumed a more tasteful and attractive appearance, pretty without, neat within, and as hos- pitable a house for the size of it as ever was seen about New York — so said all comers, or goers rather, and of course they were the best judges. If I thought it would never reach Mrs. Gallagher's ears, I would tell the reader in confidence what Tom used to say when he sat by moonlight, or gaslight, "the centre of the ring" — a smoky ring, too, it was — composed of Atty — I beg Mrs. GarreU's par- don — Arthur Garrell — though, by the way, with Tom he was still " Atty" and nothing else — William H. Fogarty, John McConoghy, now the father of a couple of promising juveniles — Henry Hackett and Samuel C, his favorite son-in-law*- — " I'll tell you what it is," Tom would say, glancing around to see that Ellen was not within earshot, " 1*11 tell you what it is — that villain O'Blarney done me the best turn that ever one man done another — small thanks to him, though, but, I declare I never knew what peace was till himself and the Old Boy flew away with my TASTE VERSUS FASHION. 455 money ! Now that's God's truth, whether you be- lieve it or not !" They did believe it, and, what ia more, they had all suspected as much before. The Fogartys were still, as their neighbors said, " at the top of the wheel," in worldly prosperity. They were, indeed, one of those highly-favored fami- lies with whom everything they undertake seems to succeed, — and that through all their branches. Every one who knows anything of the current affairs of the world around, must have observed at least one such family within the circle of their acquaint- ance. The fact is, the Fogartys were, in every sense of the word, a well-doing family; they had all just enough of ambition to urge them to laudable exer- tion, with a corresponding degree of self-respect that made them value independence, and kept them from stooping to mean actions. They all inherited, moreover, from their father, and in a lesser degree from their mother, a certain shrewdness and good Beose that contributed largely to their success in life, and kept them from exposing themselves to ridicule by any sort of exaggeration, or arrogant assumption of superiority over their own equals. They were, consequently, beloved and respected, for people are always willing to recognize merit in those who do not thrust themselves offensively forward, or demand deference as a right. As citizens, William H. Fo- garty and his sons — as they successively took their place on the stage of life, — were public-spirited, and ever willing to go into any movement having the •';: W' \f::&. ' T.rr 'iy- " fete 4aU OLD A VD NEW ; OR, good of the people in view : whilst as Christians, they were useful and active members of the congre- gation to which they belonged, with free hearts and open hands where public or private charity was in question. Then they were all, as might be expected, united amongst themselves by the tenderest bonds of affection, and it so happened that those who mar- ried into the family all fell into their* ways, some more, some less, and caught the benign influence of their public and private virtues. They were a happy and a prosperous family, the Fogartys, as they well deserved to be, and we can have little doubt that when human affliction came upon them, as come it must to all the children of Adam — they bore it as Christians calmly and submissively, as coming from the hand of God, and in accordance with the solemn decree pronounced at the beginning of the world. And now for Henry Hackett and his family, of whom our old-young favorite Michael, and the two younger sisters, remain to be accounted for. Things had gone well, I am proud to say, with the Hacketts, also, during the two or three years before we return to take a parting look at them. Ilackett's had come to be the best general grocery in that part of the ward, and there were now some three or four young men waiting on the customers; amongst them, however, you would look in vain for Michael, for Michael having made considerable pro- gress in his classical studies under the kind favor of the Von Wiegels, had, subsequently through their m ijS^v TASTE VERSUS FASHION. 4A Influence, obtained admission to one of out Ecclesi Bstical Seminaries, where he was preparing for IIolv Orders, and those who knew Michael Hackett's solid worth, and were able to appreciate his mental endowments, had high hopes of his future usefulness in the great work of the ministry. Those who meet him in after years in the venerated garb of the priesthood, will harrlly recognize him as the Michael Hackett of our earlier pages, for the precocious gra- vity of his demeanor, and his rather oldish little face, are now merged in the calm, collected mien, and the still thin but well-formed and highly-intel- lectual features of an earnest and devoted minister of the Gospel, a priest of the Most High, fully con- scious of His high prerogative, and prepared faith- fully to discharge its sacred duties. Yes. Michael Hackett has more than realized even his father's expectations. By the time Michael left College with the honorable prefix of Reverend to his name. Miss Ann -Wilhelmina had obtained an advantageous settlement for life, on condition of promising obedience to a certain con- tractor in good circumstances — a widower with one little girl of six for all encumbrance — and Ann would have thought the match in all respects desira- ble, had it not been for one unlucky fact — her spouse's name was McGurl:, with the no less odious prefix of Peter — "Peter McGurk! Good Lord! what a name!'* poor Ann -Wilhelmina used to ex- claim, with tears in her eyes. But thnt was only al •■ I? ... k ■ } 4 . ■a- I ,1.- I" II, .58 OLD AND NEW ; OR, M J .'i' , ',.■ ,V' . I'J'-, if.';). ^ i :..!/.,.. ''t!.'\7'i'4>'' first. After a few months the vulgarity of the nara« 'Viis eoon forgotten in the delightful whirl of th^ • iM.^r;iii<)n known as " cutting a dash," for it so hap- itfiied that Pef.er's mind was far more vulgar than liis name, and finding himself by a few years of extra ''good luck" in possession of more money than he ever expected to have called his own, he thought he could make no better use of it than to "cut a dash," and his wife being of the same mind, they both went to work with energy and determination cutting their dash right and left, in which profitable and honorable occupation we shall leave them, unable to say how long it continued, from the simple fact that we never had an opportunity o* sounding the depth of Poter McGurk's purse which was, of course, the measure of Peter McGurk's dash. It was not with Henry Hackett's good will, the reader may believe, that his burly new son-in-law whirled Ann-Wilheimina into the vortex of fashion and fashionable expense, but it was Peter McGurk's maxim that the man that made money knew best how to spend it, in which sage opinion be was con- firmed and supported by his bosom-friend and coun- sellor, Mrs. Ann-Wilhelmina McGurk. Both enter- tained a thorough contempt for Henry*s judgment, and made no scruple of telling their private friends confidentially that he was little better than a fool, or, at least, a fogie of the oldest description. So Henry Hackett was fain to let them " run theii rig/' and see how far it would carry them. His own TASTK VFRSU9 FASHION. 4b9 busIneBf was flourishing to his heart's content — hifi health was good and his peace of mind ruflled by but one ripple — tliat ripple his daughter Ann'a perverse folly. His youngest daughter, now plain Mary, was entirely devoted to him, and in conjunc- tion with Sarah and her husband, made it her study to promote his comfort and happiness. Indeed Mary had been knov/n to declare solemnly that she never would leave her father as long as God spared him to her ; now that he had but her, she'd see if she couldn't make up to him for the loss of all the rest. But what would she do, people used to ask, when her father was taken from her — why, then, she would go and keep house, for Michael. Henry, hearing of this affectionate resolution of Mary's, was in the habit of saying, in her absence, though, that Mary wouldn't be a burden to any one when he was gone, for, he thanked God, he'd be able to leave her what would keep her independent all her days, and then she'd be sure to have plenty of friends and a choice of homes every day of her life. Our readers must not suppose that I am losing sight of the Murrays. They are almost the last whom I would willingly overlook, and if I have not lacceeded in interesting the reader in that amiable family, I have only to say that I am sorry for It. It was a sad parting all round when the Von Wiegels and the Murrays came to part, after years of kindly, genial, and almost uninterrupted intercourse. Their life had been so much together that they could ::.fv(. mm. ;'-i ■'■'^a 460 OLD AND NEW ; OR scarcely realize living apart. This feeling was com inon to father and daughter, and they both missed the y on Wiegels quite as much as if they had formed the same family. Their social intercourse had been of the most agreeable nature, and even in their cha rities they were more or less associated. For long after Rheinfeldt House had passed into <:he hands of another branch of the Von Wiegels, a settled gloom appeared to have fallen on the household of Mr. Murray, and the old gentleman was so troubled himself that he was not surprised to see Alice sad and dejected, fading away, as it were, in loneliness. He very naturally supposed, too, that she, like him- self, mourned for Robert's disappointment as well as their own loss. Nothing, therefore, could be more natural, or more easily accounted for. There were extra demands on Alice's time, moreover, which kept her more than usual out of her father's sight. Neither did Mr. Murray object to this, for he knew that Bertha had left her old pensioners in Alice's care with a couple of hundred dollars as a re- serve fund for their use. So that this, with the care of her own poor, and her light but con- stant duties as housekeeper in their small menage were, he thought, quite sufticient to account for anything unusual in that way. Time rolled on, however, and just six months after Madam Von Wiegel and her daughter left New York, a letter came from Robert with the astounding intelligence that he had married the young and beautiful daugh> «<■ TASTE VERSUS FASHIOX. 461 ter of a wealthy Southern planter, who, if inferior to Bertha in many respects, had, as Robert said or wrote, rather, the very great merit of being vt y much in love with him, and from what he had seen of her, even in her paternal home, was, moreover, gentle and amiable, ^md liicely to make him a very dear good little wife. Of course, added Robert, my Stella is not Bertha — nobody ever was or can be like Bertha ("poor fellow! poor Robert!" sighed the father and sister, " he may find Stella to suit him better !") but then — she loves me — I know she does — and I am sure I am trying hard to love /ier— BO I dare say we shall be a very happy couple — by and by. Stella knows you both already, you can't think how well, and she wishf j of aH things to see you, here or there, she don't care which — though I rather think she would give there the preference naving never seen our great Gotham. You will be glad to hear — though I flatter myself you would htv.e g lessed it had I not told you — that Stella is a good Catholic of French descent — an old Vendeaa i'jviruly — connected by blood with the great Laroche- jacquelin, the hero of La Vendee! In luck, again! I hear you say — Stella ought to be good — and so nhe is, mon tres cher pere, ei ma be/'e et chere Alice, Stella is good, as good as she is pretty, and when you see her you will understand what that means. 1 w^- i4 P. S. — Have you heard lately from — from Madam Von Wiegel ? Has hie Excellency returned frotn •r i fn. 'U 462 OLD AND NKW ; OR, India yet ? Though T scarcely think he has — of will for months to come. God grant he may return safe — for the sake of one whom I Hhall not nam**,. It were hard, indeed, if he fell now — in the prime ^ hia noble manhood — and far away from her — hjA bride 1" " Poor Robert !" sighed the father again, and the sister echoed the sigh, but there was a deep sorrow in ber sigh, and a palor on her fair brow that her father happily for himself did not notice. Sweet Alice what a thrill of emotion did those last words of Robert's awake in your gentle heart — how deep the chord they struck there — how low and mournful the tone that vibrated through her heart-strings I But Alice Murray was a Christian in the tru sense of the word, and loving and gentle as she was, she knew how to fight, ay ! and to conquer the feelings of her heart when they came be tween her and " that peace which surpasseth all un- derstanding" — the peace of a pure heart and a self- denying spirit. Alice Murray was no lack-adaisical, sentimental damsel, pro'^d to pine away in hopeless love, " sighing like furnace" liA day long, and by uigut coiifidiug her miseries to the moon, for want of other auditors — no ! our sweet Alice was a Chris- tian maiden, strong in her sense of right, and brave to resist temptation. And she dirl resist it, nobly and successfully, by the practice of prayer and other good works, and before Bertha and Montague met again, she had learned to rejoice in the prospect of TASTE VERSUS FASHION. 46S tbelr re-UDion, and pray fervently, sincerely for theif happiness. Some modern lyrist has sung '• Who can school the heart's affections V But I answer fearlessly, the Christian can — the Catholic Christian — by the aid of supernatural graco and strength IVom above. No passion so strong) no feeling so potent but what may be overcome, by the power of prayer and the graces obtained through the Sacraments. And so it was with Alice Murray, and a blessing seemed visibly to rest on her heroic efforts, for her health improved so rapidly that her delighted father could scarcely believe the evidence of his senses, and it was not till the old family doctor — a valued friend, too — assured him on his professional honor that the alarming symptoms had actually disappeared, that the old gentleman could be at all convinced of the decided and permanent improvement which had taken place. Once tho- roughly convinced, however, his heart was so inun- dated with joy that the sunshine of his spirit came back in all its former brightness — superinduced, however, by the unexpected good news of Robert's nappy marriage, and Alice had the additional con- eolation of seeing her beloved father as blithe and merry as ever of old. This, in itself, would have been a sufficient reward for her heroic and success- ful struggle with her own heart. Let us now go back for a few brief moments to the day following Bertha's marriage. Early thai ::i I: M p-^^' 464 OLD AND NEW ; OB 'v . ■ i: ■-■< ■' .'■ ' • ->• ■■ fi I i ■;■■♦>',;• ■" forenoon a lady of rare and most voluptuous bcautj — the beauty of mature womanhood, entirely Soiuh- ern in its character — lay on a sofa in a private par- lor in the Astor House, her face buried in the cusli ions over which her dark curls lay in rich but wild profusion. A daily paper lay on her knee, and her jewelled finger still rested on the paragraph that had probably opened the flood-gates of her heart to this burst of passi'.- ^i ■a< i' sion, " but I had something so strange to tell you,* said he, " that I couldn*t possibly wait. Do you know, Lady Susan ! what I saw in the papers this morning ? — why, the marriage of Major Montague and Miss Von Wiegel — your ladyship's old friends — were they not ? Did you see the account ? There it is !" pointing to the paper in his hand. "Thank you!" said Lady Susan coldly, putting the paper aside with her hand, " I saw it. Do you suppose / take any interest in the affairs of either one or the other of those you have mentioned — if I had done so, I should certainly have seen them bo- fore now ! You would do me a favor, Sir Henry ! not to disturb me again when you have reason to think me asleep, whether Births, Deaths, or Mar- riages attract your attention in the papers — won- der as you will, but let me — rest in peace !" she added in an under tone. " Sir Henry !" raising her voice to reach his dulled ear, " we shall go this afternoon to West Point and some of those other places on the Hudson ! You will order a carriage *br one /'* " Certainly, Lady Susan, certainly !" and Sir Henry withdrew, well pleased with his commission, foj hitherto he had been trying in vain to urge Lady Susan to visit " the Lions*' of the Empire City, chiefest of which is its beautiful river with the old historic scenes that gird its margin. Left to herself Lady Susan sank again into her wild and troubled reverie, now flinging herself on a TASTE VERSUS FASHION. 461 iofa, now starting to her feet and pacing the room lu strong agitation, muttering strangely to herself in fits and starts. At last she composed herself in Bome degree with the promise sternly spoken : - I will see hun again, though it were but to die at hia leeL 1 ill then, farewell, Edgar Montague ! farew«U my hopes of happiness !" ii ii. •l.T' 1. I 468 OLD AND Nzie ; 01, p if •■•' ■• ■ ■•■*,', ,f Ml' ,'. :i' .'•<: '.: J' '*•.- .■' a' ' •'(;■'< 1... ,■ CHAPTER XXIY, SHORT AND SWEET. There was joy at Castle Mahon when Madan. Von Wiegel and her daughter returned thither after years of absence. Those at home were little changed. Uncle Gerald had grown somewhat stouter, Uncle Walter somewhat thinner, Aunt Helen's matronly form more imposing, and Eveleen's bright face had lost much of its lightsome gaiety, though her man- ner was just as usual, piquant, lively and attractive. In reply to her aunt and cousin's friendly reproaches for the silence observed in her letters regarding Bellew, she laughed merrily, and saucily replied : "I was only paying people back in their own coin. Aunt Lydia ! The confidence others" — she glanced at Bertha — " placed in me, I placed in them. Poor Gerald !" she added, and a shade of sadness fell on ner sunny face and the light faded from her laugh- ing eyes, *' poor Gerald ! if I had only seen him be- fore he left for India !" Choking with the sudden gush of feeling that welled up from her inmost heart, Eveleen darted from the room, leaving her sympathizing friends to discuss the subject with affectionate interest un- restrained by her presence. Amongst the first visitors who came to welcom« • *^ - it ii':^ »i\ TASTE VERSUS FASHION. 469 the new arrivals was Lord Dimmore, whose faihiig health had rendered it necessary for him to retire from diplomatic life, and seek a renewal of health and spirits amongst his native shades in the balmy air of green-valleyed Munster. Disfigured as Alfred'* face had been by the devastating sraall-pox, tht features were still regular, with so sweet an expres- sion pervading all that Bertha, disposed as she was to sympathize with him, regarded the young noble- man with sisterly interest from the first moment of their acquaintance. Though not quite so tall as Edgar, his form, too, was graceful and symmetrical, whilst the pensive tone of his voice and the extreme gentleness of his manner won insensibly on the heart. Different as the brothers were, and immeasurably superior as Edgar was in mind as well as in person, there was still something in and about one that re- minded you of the other, and that alone went far to establish Lord Dunmore in the warmest sisterly re- gard of Bertha. And he, on his part, loved Bertha for her own sake and that of his brother, to whom he was devotedly attached. He had been in Edgar's con- fidence long enough to know how strong and endur- ing was his love for Bertha Von Wiegel, and how entirely that love filled his heart. And now when he saw Bertha Montague with his own corporal eyei and heard her speak, and felt how tenderly she loved tlie brother of whom he was so proud, so fond, his pure, loving heart yearned towards her, and never brother loved a sister as he loved her. It was th« :r'l '% '1 n i !!''■ ivl^y- « , I 410 OLD AND NEW ; OR, ■■"■ .' r ■■'■■ '. 4-''.. .ly".' iLi:?' ' *. ' delight of both to sit and talk of him so far away— in the midst of danger — so dearly loved — so vividly remembered, and each, in turn, revived the other's drooping spirits by a fresh infusion of hope into the darkness of doubt and despondency. With a sort of hesitation and a quickening ofthe heart-pulse for which she could scarcely account, Bertha asked Lord Dun- more whether he had left his d.aughter in Madrid. A smile of arch intelligence lit up Alfred's face as he re- plied : " No, I could not bear to leave her behind — she is at Dunraove,where an aged lady of much experience in teaching has her education in charge. As my daughter — the living image of my lost Isabella — • I know you will like her, — though, perhaps, not quite so well," he added with a look that covered Bertha's face with blushes, ** as if she were only my niece, with the captivating likeness of the noblest of all the Montagues ! Ah Bertha ! how little you know of Edgar when you could be made to believe him guilty of a low, base amour. Forgive me, though, sweet sister mine, I meant not to reproach you ! I know how skilfully the web of calumny was woven, and as Edgar was but too happy to forgive your involuntary injustice, so am I, too! — let us think not of the past, but rather look to the future. When my brother returns " " But oh, Alfred ! if he should not return ?" " He will return — how can you doubt it. Bertha Montague? Have you not half the old women ground Castle Mahon praying for his safe return, TASTE VERSUS FASHIOV. 471 find are not your own hours chiefly spent in f rayei for the same intent ? Will not the angels have guard over hira, even for your dear sake ? — oh doubt It not !" Lord Dunmore began in a jesting tone, but before he ended his pale cheek glowed, and his voice quiv- ered with emotion. Bertha, much surprised, was about to ask him how he came to know all this, but her mother and Uncle Walter coming in at the moment she cared not to pursue the subject just then. It was true, nevertheless, what Alfred said, regard- ing her private devotions, and a few weeks after that conversation her Uncle Gerald had, at her request, a small chapel or oratory put up in the Druid Grove, within sight of the old Judgment- Seat, and on its little altar rnany a Mass was offered up for the temporal and spiritual welfare of Man- tague and Bellew — for they were ever associated in the pious prayers of the family. There, too, would Bertha spend whole hours, sometimes with her mother, aunt, or cousin, but ofte'ner alone, commun- ing with her own heart, and contemplating in silence and solitude the dear image that was ever before her eyes. But her thoughts were not sad ones- anxious and troubled as they were at times, there was hope glimmering through the darkness, and when she saw the evening star peep out through the golden mists of evening, she would say to her own heart, *' Even so shall the light of 4m presence beam ,1 Ml s H: mh Hi .'I liii y •If I f ■^^<> ^\.s% IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) i.O I.I !f iia iiiM '" IIIM 1112.2 m 2.0 1.8 1.25 1.4 1.6 <« 6" — ► i p>. ffi (?. VI o ^^ / /^ Photographic Sciences Corporation s. »^' ,\ « \\ ^9> .V ^> ^•^^^'^'^^ 6^ >> rv ?^>' 23 WEST MAIN STREET WEBSTER, N.Y 14580 (716) 872-4503 I 1^ fA \ 472 OLD AND NEW ; OB, «K< on my eyes !" and when the crescent moon monthly appeared in the heavens, Bertha would murmur, " Hail fair moon ! before you have gone your allot- ted round my Edgar may be here !" Yes, her Ufa was a life of hope, and a life of prayer. Letters came occasionally — as often, indeed, as the unsettled state of those Indian provinces would permit — from the loved and absent. Characteristic the letters were; Montague's deep, earnest, and impassioned — Bellew's (to Eveleen) half gay, half sad, sportive yet tender, always hopeful, never desponding. In the drawing-room at Castle Mahon a new and beautiful portrait graced the wall, close by the door of the conservatory. It was a copy of the picture of Edgar Montague which hung in the picture-gal- lery at Dunmore. This was a present to Bertha from Lord Dunmore, who had secretly employed an eminent artist to take the copy very soon after Mrs. Montague's arrival at Castle Mahon. This was an agreeable surprise for Bertha, but a far more agree- able one was not far distant. Twelve months had passed — and oh ! how long they seemed to Bertha, for, true it is that " Expectation elogs the wings of time With more thaa leaden weight." ^ ^ Battles had been fought in India, and lists of the '' killed and wounded" had been published, and some one of Bertha's tender friends had glanced over each mournful list before it was suffered to ■s- TASTE VERSUS FASHIOK. 473 meet her or Eveleen's eyes, but happily the name of Montague or Bellew was not on any of tliem — save once when Major Montague was reported aa " slightly wounded in the sword arm." Even that had filled Bertha with increased anxiety from which she was still suffering when one evening late in Sep- tember she sat alone and in tears in her little wood- land chapel. " The evening sun was sinking With a mild light calm and mellow/* but the golden beauty of the sunset, nor the varied sheen of the autumn woods could cheer the heart that was beginning to despond, or restore one tint of freshnes J to the cheek that was pale with long watching and that hope which " deferr'd raaketh the heart sick." ' All at once a quick light step crushed the with- ered leaves which already lay thick on the narrow pathway — a shadow darkened the sunlight at the door, and a voice sweeter than harp or lute — a voic« low and soft and tender as the sigh of the autumn breeze — spoke one word, " Bertha .'" Starting from hsr mournful reverie Bertha Mon- tague looked up and there stood Edgar, paler and thinner than when they parted, but still there in very deed. His eyes were smiling on her as of old, and when she sprang to his arms with a cry of joy he pressed her to his heart and held her there an though he feared to lose her again on the moment. " Wer« those tears for me ?" he fondly asked, ■■;! .•I *] 474 OLD AMD NEW : OR. ** but I know they were," and he kissed them away. " How pale you are, dear lovo ! Oh Bertha ! you have sufteredl" "And you, Edgar? — you are sadly altered. What of your wound?" " Think not of it. Bertha ! but for it I should not now be here and the bliss of this moment were worth fifty such wounds. If Gerald could only have come with me I should have been but too, too happy." " He is not with you, then ?" Montague shook his head. " As he had not the good fortune to be wounded, or put on the sick list, there was no possibility of his obtaining leave of absence — indeed, he could not think of asking it." " Poor Eveleen !" murmured Bertha, her eyes filling with tears of sympathy, " have you seen her yet?" "Just for a moment — when I heard you were here I rejoiced to know that I should find you alone, and scarcely waited to shake hands with your mother and the rest. What a charming little temple you have here, Bertha 1" ' " It is a temple of love, Edgar ! meant as a retreat where I could, unseen by mortal eye, weep and pray for my dearer self— exposed to danger, perhaps to death." "Take care, Bertha ! you will make me too proud !" whispered Montague ; " you forget that I am — Don Bellianus! apropos to that, I was glad to see by your TASTE VERSUS TASHIOK. 415 last letter that Robert Murray has been endeavor- ing to console himself for the loss he had sustained by taking to himself a wife. But, dearest ! I havQ had such a strange letter from Lady Susan, dated from New York a few days after my departure." " And what did she say, Edgar ?" cried Bertha, raising herself in his arras till she looked in his face. " She said, amongst many other wild and wicked things, that she would not leave our married life untroubled, at least, that she would raise a spirit which we should find more terrible than was the ghost of Samuel to Saul of old — and that" — he stopped. " Nay tell me, Edgar ! tell me all !" " She said, sweet love ! that she would dash the cup of joy from your lips when you least expected. But we can now defy her malice, else had I never told you of her dark threats." " Unhappy woman !" said Bertha In a tone half pity, half horror, " she can never now disturb our peace. Heard you not, dear Edgar ! of her sad fate?" " Surely no ! what was it ? — how ?'* " She and Sir Henry were both lost in the ill-fatefi Bteamer , whose mysterious disappearance on her passage from New York to Liverpool is still the wonder of the hour 1" " Groat God ! and she perished in her sins — her dark deadly sins !" "With pain I answer 'yes!' — it is even so — Sii !>' (ii fe 47« OLD AND NEW ; OR Henry and Lady Susan Burke were the first namci on the list of passengers lost !" " How wonderful are the ways of God I" said Edgar with solemn reverence, " how terrible His vengeance! — poor Lady Susan! now I can forgive her — before I found it hard to do so !" " Oh, Edgar 1" sighed Bertha, the tears streaming unheeded from her eyes, " I pitied even more than I blamed her at the worst of times — how could 1 but pity her ? she loved you — not wisely but too well — and none could feel like me what she roust have felt in losing you To her darkened mind it appeared that I had robbed her of your love.*' " She could not think so,*' said Montague sternly, " she knew she hever had my love — no, not for one brief moment — and she knew, moreover, that the more she strove to gain it the faithor she was from succeeding. No, no, Bertha ! even had she never been affianced to my brother, she never could have been my choice. You know it. Bertha! you know there was but otie — but one in all the world that ever could, or ever did, awaken love in me 1" "And that on& a marble image, with a stony heart — how hard your lot is, Edgar Montague I" " Very hard, indeed, Bertha MorUcigiie ! only thai I happen to have and to hold the marble image domi and I shall try if I have not power to soften it !* The rich glow that crimsoned Bertha's cheek had not yet died away when her mother and all ths family — Eveleen alone excepted — made their appear* TASTE VERSUS FASHION. 47T :vitzerland ? Have not valor and patriotism, and chivalrous de- votion, illumined the darkest pages of her history! If France has her Bayard and Du Guesclin, and Spain her Cid and her Alonzo d'Aguilar, and Switzerland her Tell and Hofer, and Scotland her Wallace and her Bruce, has not Ireland her Art McMurrogh, her Hugh O'Donnel, her Owen Roe, her Sarsfield ? If England has her Alfred, Ireland has her Brian Borohme, as wise a king, as brave a leader, and as skilful a diplomatist. If other nations have their poets and orators, and men of letters, their painters and their sculptors, Ire- land has hers as well. And where Christian fortitude and Christian faith are in question, what nation can show so bright a record, so fair a shield as long-suf- fering, much-enduring, eVer-faithful Ireland ? Is it because she is unfortunate — doubtless for the furtherance of God's views on men — that her de- scendants in other climes should despise her ? Shame on the degenerate spirit of Ireland's son or daugh- ter that would even tacitly co.. ive at so foul an in- justice ! They are unworthy of the race from which they spring — the " far-descended Gael" — they are a disgrace to tha country that sent th'^ir fathers forth to b' tt!d bravely with the world. One thing is certain — and our pseudo American- Taste vbrsus fashion. 489 lame lugh. In in- '^hich ire a forth [can- Irish may believe me when I say it — that intelligent, well-bred foreigners who hcA.r them deny the coun- try of their ancestors — the cradle of their race- will set them down in their own hearts as sorry specimens of a noble race,— displaying by their mean toadyism to those of different origins, the lowness of their own extraction. For it is to be observed — and has been invariably remarked — that Irish ladies and Irish gentlemen — or those who have had the advantage of reallv^oorf ^ ''ty in Ireland or elsewhere, are never ashamed of be;;.g Irish — never affect contempt for Ireland or t^e ir'sh, nev^r seem to suppose that then '.s anything disf/ractlul in beiitg Irish, and are, therefore, well conf nt to be Irish, without aping the manners or adopting the senti* ments of any other nation. If there be any one class of persons for whom I, individually, entertain a thorough contempt, it is those — and unfortunately they are here "neither few nor far between," who, with Irish blood in their veins, and Irish names for appellatives, take special delight on all occaeions, public and private, in ri- diculing "the Irish" and sneering at everything Irish, as though it were highly offensive to their olfactory nerve. The ".Pa and Ma^s Lish, but I can't help that^^^ is disgustingly prevalent in this country, and I would earnestly beg of all intelligent Irish parents, teachers, and, ;;bove all, priests, to set their faces against these ridiculous airs, and repress, by every means in theii* power, the growth of a liwtl 484 OI-D AND NEW ; OR, eentiinent «o unjust to an old and noble nation, bo degrading to the people themselves, so subversive of every lofty and chivalrous feeling. Let the young eons and daughters of the Irish race in America be taught — not to laugh at Ireland through the exag- gerated and unnatural caricatures drawn by her ene- mies for stage effect — not to encourage with their approbation the vulgar cant songs so common now a-days (and differing entirely from the good comic songs which really represent Irish humor), which tend so strongly to foster a contempt for Ireland in the minds of the young, — but rather to study what Ireland was, and is, to see what Ireland and the Irish race have done, and so to judge of her claims to a share of the world's respect. If they be Catholics it will be easy to make them love and honor Ireland, and if they do not love and honor her, the fault is with those who have the training of them. French and Austrian, Polish and Spanish Catholics, and Italian, too, if they still ha^e the faith of Christ, never men- tion Catholic Ireland without respect — they honor her as the mother of saints and martyrs, whose mis- sionaries brought Gospel-truth not seldom to their pagan fathers. They are proud to acknowledge their indebtedness to the Irish Church, and willingly yield precedence to Ireland as their senior in the faith, and " the oldest Catholic nation in Western Europe." It is reserved for American Catholics — too often the children of Irish parents — to look coldly and jealously on Ireland and frowu down her claiinai TASTE VERSUS FASHION. 485 tion, 80 versive B young 3i-ica be le exag- ber ene- ,h their )ii now i comic , which land iu y what le Irish ns to a itholics reland, is with toh and [talian, !!' men- honor se mis- o their wledge illingly ' in the ''estern olios — ; coldly DlaimaL These persons seem always desirous to place poor Ireland where Lord Mark Ker, a Governor of Ber- wick, in the olden time, would have placed the run- away General, Sir John Cope, what time he took French leave of his army, and left them to faoe the Highland host, as best they could for him : " I think you deserve the back o' the gate Get out o' my sight this mornin' !" Even so it is with our would-be somebody American-Irish Catholics ; they are forever sending Ireland to " the back o* the gate," and are mightily indignant because she will not go there, " and get out of their sight,'* like an obedient spaniel when they bid her. Cry them mercy, there is still room for dear Old Ireland on the world's stage, and she has true hearts to love her and minstrels to sing her prai&e, and orators to proclaim her rights, and a Church and an Altar on which the blight of heresy has never fallen. Why, then, should not the descendants of the Catholic Irish in America love and" honor the Old Land, when countless generations of their brave and pious ancestors calmly await the resurrection in the hallowed soil of Ireland ? Why should they lend themselves to the senseless folly, the un-Catludie prejudice that here makes the word Iri&h synony- mous with disgrace. Not that I would have them Uwe America less as the great and free and noble country of their birth, but I would have them res- ped Ireland more than they do— I would hav» ii \- 1 1 ■ I ■ i! il ! i 196 them OLD AND NEW ; 0«, t to be ashamed of their Irish ancestry, of join in holding up their fatherland to the ridicule and contempt of others who are bound to it by no ties other than that of our common humanity. I-et them only treat Ireland as the American French, or German, or Spanish, Swedes, Danes, or Norwegians, treat those several countries whsn they are men- tioned in their presence — let them cherish the name and fame of their fatherland as those other races, even in America, do theirs — we ask or claim no more. One word more and I leave Old and New to the tender mercies of the public. It is often said by in- telligent persons, not Irish, that we Irish claim too much at the hands of others. There may be soma truth in the remark, but if there be, the fact is easily accounted for. If too much be claimed for Ireland, it is because too little is given her. Were people on this side the Atlantic willing to give Ireland her feiir share of merit, they would hear less of Ireland's claims. By their affected contempt of a country and a people who, with all their faults, are entitled to respect, they make it incumbent on Irish writers and Irish orators to state the case in their own be- half. With these remarks I take my leave— for the present. :'f. •^. : . ' THl BNBw ;