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know what de young gentlemens do here at night, keeping me up
for make coffee for um, sometime mos’ tell to-morrow morning.”
“ It’s perfectly shocking, Tabitlia. She’ll never suffer it.”
“Nebber, Mass Ned.”
“ Then, Tabby, do you think she’d let these tables and chairs
be so dusty, that a gentleman can’t sit in them without cover
ing his garments with dust as from a meal bag.”
“ Sure, Mass Ned, I brush off de tables and chairs ebbry morn
ing.” And, saying this, the old woman began wiping off chairs
and tables with her apron.
“ But she’ll see it done after a different fashion, Tabitlia. She’ll
have you up at cock crow, old lady, putting the house to rights.”
“ Hem ! I ’spec she will hab for git young sarbant den, for you
see Mass Ned, dese old bones have de rheumatiz in dem.”
“Not a bit of it, old lady. A young wife has no pity on old
bones. She’ll make you stir your stumps, if you never did before.
She will never part with you, Tabitlia. She know r s your value.
She know r s how Dick values you. She w ill have no other servant
than you. Y ou’ll have to do everything, Tabby, even to nursing
the children. And, between you and her, the old house w ill grow r
young again. It will make you happy, I’m, sure, to see it full of
young people, and plenty of company, looking quite smart always ;
always full of bustle and pleasure ; every body busy; none idle;
not a moment of time, so that, when you lie down at midnight,
to rouse up at daylight, you’ll sleep as sound as if you were in
heaven.”
“I don’t tink, Mass Ned, I kin stand’ sich life as dat. De fac’
is, Mass Dick is berry comfortable jist now, as he stan’. He aint
got no trouble. He know me, and I knows him. I don’t see
wha’ for he want to get w ife. I nebber yer him say he’s oncom
fortable.”
“ Ha! ha! ha! The tune rather changes, Tabitlia. But this
house, as it is, is quite too dull for both you and your master.
When Beatrice Mazyck comes home, you’ll have music. She will
waken up the day with song, like a bird. She will put the day to
sleep with song. \ ou’ll have fine times, Tabby—music, and
dancing, and life and play.”
ha s people guine do for sleep 4 Mass Ned, all dis time.
People must hab sleep.”
The old woman spoke this sharply. Ned laughed gaily, beck
oned for another cup of coffee, and the ancient housekeeper was
for the moment dismissed.
have effectually cured her of any desire for a mistress,”
said I.
“See how opinion changes,” quoth Ned,—“yet Tabitha is no
bad sample of the world at large, white and black. Our opinions
shape themselves wonderfully to suit our selfishness.—Dick, pass
me those waffles.”
I suppose there is hardly any need to describe a bachelor’s
breakfast. Ours was not a bad one. Coffee and waffles, sardines
and boiled eggs, to say nothing of a bottle of Sauterne, to which
I confined myself, eschewing coffee in autumn—these were the
chief commodities. The table, I must do Tabitha the justice to
declare, was well spread, with a perfeatly white cloth, and the
edibles sei \ed up, w ell cooked and w ith a clean and neat arrange
ment. Edw r aul Bulmer soon satisfied his wolfish appetite, and,
when the things were removed, it was after nine o’clock. His
was akeady at the door. A\ e adjusted ourselves, and hav
SUPPLEMENT TO SOUTHERN LITERARY GAZETTE.
ing an hour to consume, went over all the affairs of the parish of
which he had recently informed himself. f Now r , as every body
knowrs, St. John’s is one of the most polished, hospitable, and in
telligent of all the parishes in the low’ country of South-Carolina •
and the subject, to one like myself who knew it well, and who had
not been thither for a long time, was a very attractive one. On
Ned’s account, also, I w r as desirous of being well informed in all
particulars, that none of the proper clues might be wanting to un
hands, while conversing with Paula’s granddame. The hour
passed rapidly, conning these and other matter’s, and ten o’clock
found us punctually at the entrance of the Mansion House. Our
cards were sent in, and, in a few 7 moments, we were in the parlour
of that establishment, and in the presence of the fair Paula, and
her stately, but excellent granddame, Mrs. , or, considering
the race, I should probably say, Madame Agnes-Theresa Girardin.
CHAPTER 111.
KING-STREET SHOPPING, AND SHARP SHOOTING.
Paula Bonneau was as lovely a little brunette as the eye ever
rested upon with satisfaction. Her cheek glowed with the warm
fires of Southern youth ; her eye flashed like our joyous sunlight;
her mouth inspired just the sort of emotion which one feels at
seeing a new’ and most delicious fruit imploring one to feed and
be happy ; while her brow, full and lofty, and contrasting with
voluminous masses of raven hair, indicated a noble and intellec
tual nature, which the general expression of her face did not con
tradict. That was a perfect oval, and of the most perfect sym
metry. The nose, by the way, w r as aquiline, a somewhat curious
feature in such a development, but perfectly consistent with the
bright eagle-darting glances of her eye. Paula was, indeed, a
beauty, but I frankly confess quite too petite for my taste. Still, I
could admire her, as a beautiful study, —nay, knowing the amia
ble and superior traits of her heart and character, I could love the
little creature also. She was, in truth, a most loveable little
being, and, though she did not inspire me with any ardent attach
ment —perhaps, for the sufficient reason that I had fixed my
glances on another object—still, I felt no surprise at the passion
with which she stirred the blood in the bosom of my friend.
Ihe contrast between herself, and her stately grand-dame, was
prodigious. One could hardly suppose that the two owed their
origin to a similar stock. Madame Girardin was tall beyond the
ordinary standards of woman, and very disproportionately slender
for her height. She was one of those gaunt and ghostly-looking
personages, who compel you to think of fierce birds of prey, such
as haunt the shores of unknown rivers or oceans, with enormous
long limbs, long beaks, red heads, and possibly yellow legs. Her
nose was long like her limbs, and tapered down to a point like a
spear head. Her lips were thin and compressed. She could not
well be said to show her teeth, whatever might be the fierceness
ot her looks in general. Her eyes were keen and black, her eye
brows thick, furzy and pretty well grizzled, while her locks weie
long, thin, grizzled also, and permitted rather snakily to hang
about her temples. The dear old grandmother was decidedly no
beauty ; but she was noble of spirit, high-toned, and of that ster-