"And on what have these dainty minds been nurtured, and who have been their intellectual mentors? Lela has been bred within a cloister's walls, and foreign travel has polished both mind and manners.

"In no school has Majoli's mind been formed, nor is she greatly indebted to learned professors for her mental attainments. A mother's love has quickened the budding intellect, a mother's intelligence has trained and directed the unfolding powers. The grace of foreign speech is on her tongue, and scenes and pictures of distant lands are enshrined in her memory. Ancient lore has for her a peculiar charm; history is her delight; Plutarch, Josephus, Gibbon, Macaulay, she has conned well. Poesy she loves much. The poetry of the Bible, Dante, Schiller, Herbert, Browning, are her favorites. In sacred books she finds sweet enjoyment. The Fathers of the Church afford her great pleasure; St. Augustine, St. Basil, Thomas a Kempis, etc. She has the grace of devotion, but her love of the Church is affected more by its aesthetical qualities than its theological dogmas.

"Lela is a pa.s.sionate book-lover. There are few modern writers that have not furnished entertainment to her accomplished mind, and she is not unacquainted with the best Latin and Greek authors. English, German, and French literature are alike open to her. Biography, essays, dramas, poetry, with more serious reading, occupy her time.

Virgil and Horace, Bacon, Shakespeare, Racine, Victor Hugo, Heine and George Eliot may be mentioned as among her preferences.

"But while we are attempting to portray some noticeable characteristics in Lela and Majoli, how are Celina and Guerrabella occupied? You see Guerrabella has a pencil in her hand. She is sketching a head; if we look closely, we shall probably recognize our own, grotesquely drawn, for there is no denying that our young genius is fond of caricaturing her friends. Celina sits by a table; her large, open eyes have a distant, dreamy expression. Her pen moves rapidly across the page; she is writing a Musical Recollection, we may presume.

"Guerrabella is the youngest of the group. She is tall, picturesque, imposing. Her face is radiant with blushes, dimples, and smiles. She looks so fresh and beautiful that she might have set for Greuze's picture of 'Sweet Sixteen.' A sense of thorough enjoyment flashes from the bright, blue-gray eyes, and is indicated by the rose-bloom on cheek and lips. There is an air of strength and courage perceptible, and a certain dash in her manner that a.s.sociates her with Scott's favorite heroine, Di Vernon. She has great mimic powers, and might adorn the histrionic stage. Towards art and literature she seems equally attracted, and what she will eventually decide to follow we cannot now predict. She will fail in nothing for want of talent.

"Celina's height scarce reaches to Guerrabella's shoulder; her figure is fragile and dainty; and though her cheek lacks bloom, the lines are soft and graceful, and the face pensive and poetic. The mouth is small and well curved, and the air of repose that rests upon the imaginative brow resembles the Muse of Meditation. The serenity that is uniformly spread over her unique countenance is in strong contrast to the animated, vivacious features of her cousin. Celina's head is fashioned after a cla.s.sic model, and the ma.s.s of amber-hued hair which crowns it might be taken for an aureola. Her pansy-like eyes are full of sweet, poetic vision. The brow is marked by delicately defined eyebrows, and the eyelashes are long and silken. 'Tis a melodic countenance, foreshadowing that dream-world from which our young heroine has never for a moment awakened. Too _pet.i.te_, some might deem her, for womanly perfection; but physical symmetry, ease, and a dignified bearing elevate the fairy figure to the true standard. She moves about with an airy grace, and nothing earthly is lighter than her footfall. Her small, delicate hands grace the keyboard, and music in her has an enchanting interpreter.

"Guerrabella partic.i.p.ates in the family pa.s.sion for literature. She possesses great intellectual independence, and her preferences are decided, usually inclining to the bold and strong. She is fond of Macaulay's 'Heroic Lays of Many Lands;' she rejoices in Becky Sharp; and there is a tradition that she learned to read in the works of Thackeray, spelling out the words of that magnificent novel, Henry Esmond.

"Celina has explored the treasures of cla.s.sic lore in music and literature. Homer, Herodotus, Plato, she has read, with Ta.s.so and his chivalrous lays, and Spenser and his stately verse. In music, Gluck and Gretry, Beethoven and Boieldieu's dulcet tones have helped to fashion her musical mind.

"But we must not dismiss our heroines without indicating the toilettes that most become them. Velvets and rich brocade befit the Lady Lela's superb figure. Scarlet is her color, and diamonds her essential ornament. The moss-rose should be her favorite flower.

"Soft gray or pale azure of light fabrics do best agree with Majoli's sylph-like form. Pearls and feathers are consonant to her artistic taste. Her emblematic flower is the lily, of sacred and legendary lore.

"All shades and fabrics of whatever texture harmonize with Guerrabella's style. Ample should be the folds that habit her majestic figure, and brilliant the gems that are to rival her flashing, sparkling eyes: yet we might indicate _couleur de rose_ as best blending with her own exquisite tints, and the opal with its mysterious light as in some way prefiguring her genius and high destiny.

"And how shall we vest our _mignonne_--Celina? Gossamer tissues, fabrics of airy texture--a magic web for the daintiest Lady in our Land. No color of human invention; their dyes would oppress her.

_White_ with a gleam of moonlight upon it; a reflection of the aura of her hair, or the first pale beams of the morning. Other gems would I not but those wondrous starlike eyes, to light up a face radiant with thought and sensibility."

[1] For Lilian, Ida's second name.

CHAPTER XIII.

Biography of Mr. Greeley--Gabrielle's Questions--Mrs. Cleveland's Corrections--The Boy Horace not Gawky, Clownish, or a Tow-head--His Parents not in Abject Want--Mr. Greeley's Letter about his Former Playmates--Young Horace and his Girl Friends--He Corrects their Grammar and Lectures them upon Hygiene--He disapproves of Corsets.

_July 10_.

"Auntie, is it possible," said Gabrielle, indignantly running into mamma's room with an open volume in her hand, "that papa was as homely and awkward when a boy and young man as this writer describes him?

'Tow-head,' 'gawky,' 'plain,' and 'clownish,' are some of the most uncomplimentary epithets applied to him. He is described as having 'white hair with a tinge of orange at the ends,' and as 'eating as if for a wager;' while grandpapa, the writer says, was so poor that papa had to walk barefooted over the thistles, without a jacket, and in trousers cut with an utter disregard of elegance or fit, and it was remarked that they were _always_ short in the legs, while one was invariably shorter than the other. Was it possible that grandpapa could not afford an inch more of cloth to make poor papa's trousers of equal length, and was it true that papa never had but two shirts at a time until he came to New York, and that he never had any gloves? When he was an apprentice in Portland every one used to pity him, Mr. ------ says, as he walked shivering to the _Spectator_ office on cold winter days, thinly clad, and with his gloveless hands thrust into his pockets to protect them from being frost-bitten!"

"My child, you overwhelm me with your questions," said mamma. "Let me take them singly, and I will do my best to refute this writer's unpleasant statements.

"First as to personal appearance. You say he styles your papa 'plain'

as a boy. That is absurd, for his features, like mother's, were as perfect as a piece of Grecian sculpture. 'Tow-head' is also a mis-statement. Brother's hair never was at any time tow-color, and the tinge of orange at the ends existed only in the author's imagination.

Tow-color, you know, is a sort of dirty white or gray; whereas brother's hair, until he was thirty years old, was like Raffie's, pure white. After that time, it commenced to change to a pale gold-color, which never, however, deepened into orange. What was your next question, my dear?"

"About papa's wardrobe," said Gabrielle, her cheeks still flushed with excitement; "were you indeed so miserably poor, auntie?"

"We were certainly very poor after father failed," said mamma firmly, "but we were by no means reduced to abjectness. I can never remember the time, in our poorest days, when the boys had not, besides their brown linen work-day shirts, cotton shirts for Sunday, and father his 'fine shirt' to wear to church and for visiting. Your papa was dressed suitably for our station in life--neither better nor worse than the sons of neighbors in our circ.u.mstances. As for going barefoot, all country boys at that time did so during the summer months; your papa was not an exception.

"You speak of his gloveless hands. I never saw a pair of kid gloves worn by farmers while we lived in Vermont or Pennsylvania; and certainly they would have been very inappropriate for a boy-farmer or a printer's apprentice to wear; but brother was always, both at home and at Poultney, supplied with warm woollen mittens of mother's knitting.

As for the cut of his trousers, I am surprised that any sensible author should use so unfit a word as 'elegance' in speaking of a poor farmer's clothing. I told you the other day that our wardrobe for every-day wear was spun, woven, and made by mother, and it is not to be expected that home-made coats and trousers should have the cut of a fashionable New York tailor; but they were, at all events, warm and comfortable.

That brother's trousers were always short, and especially in one leg, is an absurd fabrication. The story may perhaps have risen from some one who remembers his lameness in Poultney, when he acquired the habit of dragging one leg a little after the other, and that style of walking may have apparently shortened one of the trouser legs. Have you anything else to ask, little one?"

"Yes, auntie," said Gabrielle, smiling at mamma's methodical way of answering: "was papa an awkward boy, and did he eat vulgarly?"

"I have told you, dear," mamma replied, "how we were brought up. I never saw your papa eat ravenously while he was at home; for father was a despot at table, and any appearance of gluttony would have been quickly checked by the dreaded descent of his fork upon the table. I think it probable that later in life, when your papa became a distinguished man, and every moment was of value, that he did eat quicker than was consistent with the laws of etiquette, but not when he was a boy.

"As for his awkwardness, I can readily imagine that a boy so intensely preoccupied would not appear in so favorable a light to strangers as one who should seek the society of people rather than books, and a superficial observer might have mistaken his air of abstraction for rustic bashfulness. You know that he was always absorbed in a book from the time he was three years old. Father would often send him to do an errand--to fetch wood or the like; he would start very obediently, but with his eyes upon his book, and by the time he had reached the door he would have completely forgotten everything outside the page he was reading, and it was necessary to send some one after him to remind him of his errand. He certainly was very unlike every-day boys, not only in appearance, but in habits and moral qualities. Never did I hear a coa.r.s.e or profane word pa.s.s his lips; the purity of his soul was radiant in his beautiful modest countenance; while his slender, boyish figure, with the ponderous white head poised upon his long, slim neck, always reminded me of a lovely, swaying lily."

"I have seen recently in some book," said Marguerite, "that uncle was never at his ease in polite society. This I think very absurd. To be sure he had not the manners of a dancing-master, but--"

"Yes," interrupted mamma; "this statement is another of the usual exaggerations current about brother. As you say, he had not the manners of a dancing-master, and when importuned and annoyed by shallow people, may often have been abrupt with them; but when in society, I have always seen his company as much or more courted than that of any other person present, and have never known him to shrink or be embarra.s.sed in the presence of people of distinction or rank. Few men have, I think, been more misrepresented, though often with the kindest intentions, than my dear brother."

"You spoke of papa's lameness while at Poultney, Aunt Esther," said Ida, looking up from a letter that she was reading; "pray how did he become lame? Was it serious? I do not remember hearing him mention it."

"It occurred, I believe, in this way," said mamma. "Whilst your papa was in the _Spectator_ office, he chanced one day to step upon a rough box, which turned over, and hitting him upon the leg, inflicted a cut below his knee. At first, brother thought it a mere scratch not worth noticing; but when he subsequently took cold in it, he found it very troublesome, and although he then consulted several medical men, they were unable to cure it, I do not remember hearing that he was ever confined to the house with it--probably because he could not afford to give up his work long enough to have it properly treated; but for two or perhaps three years he limped to and from the office. When he went subsequently to Erie, Pennsylvania, to work as a journeyman printer, the wound, which had partially healed, had again opened, and was very painful. Some old woman residing there, however, gave him a simple remedy which soon cured it permanently."

"From whom is the letter that you are reading, Ida?" inquired Gabrielle, putting up her father's biography in a bookcase; "does it contain a request for a loan of $500, or is it an offer of a home in a Christian family?"

"Neither, for once," answered Ida. "It is from _The Tribune_ office, and contains a slip cut from the Omaha _Bee_, headed, 'Horace Greeley upon Girls.' It appears that a lady, Miss Hewes, who did not know papa personally, wrote to him to ask if he recollected his first school-house, and a former playmate of his, named Reuben Nichols, whose acquaintance Miss Hewes had just made. Here is papa's answer, dated Washington, 1856. Let me read it to you, Aunt Esther, and tell me if you think it is genuine."

"'MISS HEWES:--As I do not know you, and am little interested in any but a part of your letter, you will allow me, in my terrible hurry--having two days' work that ought to be done to-day, while I must leave at evening for a journey to our Pittsburg Convention--to speak only of that.

"'I very well remember the red school-house in which I first began to learn (the paint was worn off long since, and it was very far from red when I last saw it); I remember the Nichols children, who lived, just below the school-house, in a large house. But I was very young then, and I do not make out a clear mental picture of Reuben Nichols. I think he must have been considerably older than I. But I recollect one Aseneth Nichols, one of two girls not much older than I, whom I thought very pretty, so that while I was a very good speller, and so one of the two at the head of the first cla.s.s in spelling, who were ent.i.tled to "choose sides" for a spelling match; I used to begin by choosing these two pretty girls who couldn't spell hokee to save their souls. Well, this was found not to answer; I knew enough to spell but not to choose sides; so the _role_ had to be altered, and the two next to the one at the head had the honor of "choosing sides." Ask Mr. Nichols if he had a sister Aseneth, and if he remembers any such nonsense as this. My kind regards to him.

"'Yours,

"'HORACE GREELEY.'"

"I don't believe," said Gabrielle, "that papa ever wrote that letter."

"It does not sound much like him," rejoined Marguerite, "with the exception of 'Yours, Horace Greeley'; what do you think, mamma?"

"The letter is characteristic," was mamma's reply; "the style is his, but there are several words that I have never known him to use; however, they may have been illegible in the original, and their place supplied by the printer's ingenuity. I remember hearing father and mother often speak of Reuben Nichols who lived near grandfather in Londonderry, and I believe that he had a son named Reuben, and a daughter named Aseneth, so the letter must be genuine, I suppose."

"Was it true, mamma?" inquired Marguerite, "that uncle was fond of little girls? You know it has been said of him that he was as a man quite indifferent to women."

"Yes, he was very partial to little girls," was mamma's reply, "when they were pretty and gentle. Not, however, in the love-making way of the present precocious generation, but he liked to talk to them, and relate stories from the books he had read. Perhaps the secret of his preference lay in the fact that they made more attentive and sympathetic listeners than his rough boy-friends.

"I told you the other day that at the ball he attended when thirteen years old, he was the escort of Anne Bush, the prettiest girl in the village. She was perhaps a year younger than he, and as I remember her, extremely pretty--a slender figure, cheeks like roses, blue eyes, dark hair, and very gentle, ladylike ways. She had a sister Sophie, who was as plain as Anne was pretty; and a wild, mischievous girl, but my inseparable and dearest companion.

"There were two other girls of whom brother was very fond at that time; Cornelia Anne Smith and Rebecca Fish. Cornelia Anne was older than the other girls, about fourteen, I think, and was the fondest of learning of the trio. I remember that she often used to bring her school-books to brother when some difficulty had arisen in her lessons, and he would explain the hard points. I think that he always corresponded with these girls, and visited them occasionally after they became women, for you know with what tenacity he clung to his early a.s.sociations. He has often spoken to me of Rebecca Fish, who is now Mrs. Whipple, of Fairhaven.

"You would be amused if I were to tell you how he used to pa.s.s the time that he spent with these three girls. A city-bred boy of thirteen or fourteen would have been quite capable of arranging an elopement with the prettiest one, but brother's style of courtship was quite unique; he used to correct their grammar when they conversed, and gravely lecture them upon the folly of wearing stays!