"I have described your Aunt Mary as beautiful, and perhaps you would infer that she was also over-fond of dress. She was no devotee to fashion, and her toilet was, even at that period, characterized by great simplicity, but was noted, at the same time, for picturesqueness."

Ida showed me, the other day, a very interesting letter written to her father by a friend, Mr. Yancey, who was present at his marriage, and as it confirms what mamma has said of Aunt Mary's beauty, I will make some extracts from it. Mr. Yancey was the son-in-law of Squire Bragg, at whose house Aunt Mary resided while teaching school in North Carolina.

"GERMANTOWN, TENNESSEE, _July 6, 1847_.

"MR. GREELEY:

"DEAR SIR:--Sitting to-night 'all solitary and alone,' my mind has wandered back upon scenes that have past eleven years ago, though vivid now even as yesterday. It was about that time that I saw you first, and indeed saw you last.

"Little did I then dream that I beheld in that modest personage one who is now acknowledged as the 'distinguished and accomplished Horace Greeley.'

"You well remember your first visit to the South, I dare say. You cannot have forgotten many incidents that occurred at a little village of North Carolina, called Warrenton? No, there is _one_ circ.u.mstance I feel a.s.sured you never can forget while memory lasts, and there are others to which I claim the right to call your attention: for instance, do you remember your first meeting with a certain Miss Cheney at the house of Squire Bragg, the father of Capt. Bragg, who lately distinguished himself at Monterey and Buena Vista? Do you now remember to whom you related the secret of your visit, who procured the parson, and what persons accompanied you to church, and then with your beautiful bride returned to breakfast? We saw you take the solemn vows, we witnessed the plighted betrothal, and when you bore away from us this prize, you also carried our best wishes that you might be ever blessed, and she be made always happy. May it not have been otherwise."

. . . . "I would, my dear sir, be pleased to hear from you, and to learn something of the results and changes which time has brought about in your own family.

"Be pleased to remember me to your sweet wife, and if there be any, or many little G------s, my kind regards to them also.

"Very respectfully,

"A. L. YANCEY."

CHAPTER VI.

Visitors--Our Neighbors--The Chappaqua Croquet Club--Gabrielle's Letter--A Hiding Party--Summer Heat--The Music-room--Friends from the City.

_June 18_.

While out on the croquet ground this afternoon, a lady and gentleman alighted from a carriage, and walked up to join us. They proved to be our friends, Mr. and Mrs. Charles E. Wilbour, of New York, who had driven over from White Plains to make us an afternoon call. Mrs.

Wilbour is a charming, intellectual woman, the president of Sorosis, and a friend of many years of both mamma and Aunt Mary. In appearance she is tall, handsome, and queenly, dressing in perfect taste, and a graceful hostess. Her pretty daughter Linny is a school friend of Gabrielle's at St. Mary's.

Mr. and Mrs. Wilbour spend much time during the summer, driving about from one town to another; certainly the most comfortable and agreeable mode of travelling that one could adopt.

We have some agreeable neighbors here, who contribute somewhat to the general entertainment. The aristocracy of Chappaqua are chiefly Quaker families who have lived here since the days of the Indians, and who look down quite doubtfully upon the New York families who come out here for the summer only, and of whose ancestry they know nothing. The fathers and mothers wear the Quaker dress, and use the "Friends"

phraseology, which I think very pretty and caressing, but the young people depart somewhat from the way of grace, in speech, costume, and habits. The young girls wear whatever color of the rainbow best suits their fresh complexions, are skilled in flirting, and with the a.s.sistance of the young gentlemen, have organized a club for weekly croquet parties and private theatricals at the residences of the different members, whilst picnics and riding-parties to Croton and Rye Lakes, and other pretty points of interest, are of frequent occurrence.

But of the riding-parties Gabrielle has just written a sprightly description to a school friend, and before the letter goes to the post, I will transcribe it.

CHAPPAQUA, _June 18_.

"DEAR MOLLIE: I received your charming letter and photograph last week.

Many thanks for both. You ask me how do I pa.s.s my time, and what is the latest excitement?

"Well, to begin with, you must know that we have just started a club in Chappaqua for mutual amus.e.m.e.nt, but as I have been indisposed for some time, I certainly have not yet derived much benefit from it, but spend most of my time reading.

"Last Sat.u.r.day I was just longing for something to happen, and apostrophizing the world as a hollow sham, when Minna came up to say that we had all been invited to an equestrian party, to start after tea. You would have imagined I had been offered several kingdoms by my delight. I gave two or three screams of condensed joy, while dancing wildly around the room, much to Aunt Esther's surprise.

"But on second thoughts, what _was_ I to do for a horse? My ponies had never been broken to the saddle, but having made up my mind to go, go I would, if I had to ride a wild buffalo; so I ordered Lady Alice around an hour before the time to start. When she arrived, the balcony was filled with a large and anxious audience, and rather than fail before so many, I was determined that either I should break the horse in, or she should break me. I sprang into the saddle, but before I could seat myself or put my foot in the stirrup, she jerked her head away from Bernard, and commenced a series of exciting manoeuvres, rearing, plunging, and kicking. For about five minutes I defied all the laws of gravitation. But when the coachman tried to seize her bridle, she shied so suddenly that I was surprised to find myself on terra firma.

I jumped up directly and a.s.sured every one that I had not hurt myself in the least, in fact had never felt better; but between you and me, I felt very like the dog that was tossed by the cow with the crumpled horn. I am afraid that by this time I had let my little angry pa.s.sions rise--in other words, I was decidedly angry.

"I got on splendidly this time, and was quite ready to start with my cousins when the time came, although my Lady Alice evinced serious objections to the gate, and preferred ambling gently along sideways up the hill. After a while I intimated kindly with my whip a desire to gallop. I fear that, like some of our friends, she is hard to take a hint, for she progressed by the most wonderful plunges, garnished with little kicks; but I kept her head well up, and clawed out several handfuls of her mane. When we came to the rendezvous, my cavalier proposed running her for two or three miles to take down her spirits a little, after which she went beautifully, and I never enjoyed a ride so much before.

"We rode to Lake Wampus, and everything looked so lovely, for the full moon lighted it up like a mirror, and we had singing and thrilling ghost stories.

"Dear me, how awfully long this letter is! Be sure you answer it soon.

"Yours lovingly,

"GABRIELLE."

_June 19_.

The heat and dust are becoming insufferable, for we have had no rain, save in very h.o.m.oeopathic doses, during the three weeks that we have been here. The shrubs and bushes by the roadside look so piteous under their weight of dust, that I feel half inclined to try the effect of a feather brush upon their drooping leaves; and Bernard, who is never p.r.o.ne to take cheerful views of anything, grows daily more gloomy when we inquire after the progress of the kitchen-garden. But, although we are sighing under the heat, it is nothing, we are told, to what the New Yorkers are now enduring, and our friends, Mrs. Acheson and Dr. Taylor, who came out yesterday from the city to spend the day with us, congratulated us upon the coolness of the temperature at Chappaqua.

The morning was pa.s.sed out of doors playing croquet and walking

"Sotto i pini del boschetto,"

to use the words of the coquettish Countess and her arch waiting-maid in the "Marriage of Figaro" (that Letter Duo contains, I think, some of the most delicious music that the joyous Mozart ever wrote).

The sun was too hot after our early dinner, for us to find much pleasure in croquet; so we sat in the music-room, and upon the piazza, and listened to a few songs from Marguerite, and watched the skill of papa and the handsome blond doctor in the "Magic Rings,"--a very easy game, to all appearance, but one which really requires much dexterity of hand.

The music-room is, I think, the coolest and pleasantest room in the house. It is one of the additions built by uncle after he had purchased this house--a large, square room on the ground floor, with curtained windows opening upon the balcony, and upon the old apple-tree. It is singularly favorable for music, for it contains no heavy furniture, and the floor is uncarpeted. We had intended to remove all the pictures from the walls, that they might not deaden the sound of the music, but we could not resist an exquisite "Mary in the Desert," purchased by uncle in Florence, in 1851; so this painting is now hung over the piano.

Our sprightly brunette friend with the merry black eyes, Mrs. Acheson, looked unusually pretty and charming yesterday. I love to describe stylish toilettes as well as any fashion-writer; so here is hers in all its details: steel-colored silk trimmed with turquoise blue, demi-traine, her hair beautifully dressed (or _coiffured_, to use the fashionable newspaper word) in puffs and rolls, and finished with a little blue feather; while an elegant fan attached to half a yard of gold chain depended from her belt.

When the 4.45 train was at hand, Ida and I walked down to the station with our friends. Quite luckily there was a drawing-room car attached to the train, although such luxury is generally confined to the express, which does not stop here. I learnt, however, from the station-master, that this car had borne some happy pair as far as Albany the day before, had stayed there over-night for repairs, and was now returning in a leisurely manner to New York.

CHAPTER VII.

Midsummer Day--An Artist's Visit--Ida's Letter--Moonlight on Croton Lake--Morning Readings--Plato and Kohlrausch.

_June 21_.

In honor of Midsummer Day, Marguerite and I have spent the morning at the piano, playing Mendelssohn's delicious fairy music from the Midsummer Night's Dream.

We have had little time to practise or read this week, for company has been of almost daily occurrence; Marguerite returned yesterday morning from a flying visit to the city, accompanied by our friends, Colonel Rogers and Mr. Hows, the artist, who is a neighbor of ours in our rural part of the city--Cottage Place. Colonel Rogers was dressed entirely in gray, a costume that looked delightfully cool, and was a perfect match for his eyes.

The morning was spent in playing croquet, and in showing our guests over the place, whose wild beauty delighted Mr. Hows' artistic eyes.