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parishes ; and then a lively overture from the violin in the pas
sage-way silenced the piano for the rest of the night, signalizing
a general and very animating hustle. There were two violins,
one of them, as usual upon large plantations in the South, being
a negro —a fellow of infinite excellence in drawing the bow. The
other was an amiable young gentleman of the neighbourhood,
whose good nature and real merits as a musician, led him fre
quently to perform at the friendly reunions in the Parish. Be
tween the two we had really first rate fiddling; and the carpets
soon disappeared from the hall and the opposite apartment to the
parlour, affording ample room and verge enough for our pur
poses ; and to it we went with a merry bound, and a perfect ex
hilaration of the soul, wheeling about in all the subdued graces
of the quadrille, and forgetting phlegm and philosophy in a
moment. The dancers were surrounded by the spectators, and,
with Beatrice Mazyck as my partner, I confess to being as little
disposed for grave thoughts and sober fancies, as any of my
neighbours.
\ our country ball is quite a different sort of thing from that of
the fashionable city. It is more distinguished by abandon. There
is a less feeling of restraint in the one situation than the other.
Nobody is critical, there are few r or no strangers, not sufficient to
check mirth or irritate self-esteem, and the heels fairly take entire
possession of the head. I had not been in such a glow for months.
I had not conjectured the extent of my own agility, and Beatrice
swam through the circle, proudly and gracefully, as the Queen of
Sheba, over the mirrored avenues (according to the Rabbinical
tradition) of Solomon.
u 011 are a lucky dog, Dick,” whispered the Major in my ears.
\ our partner is worthy to be an Empress. That scamp of a
son of mine, he has possessed himself of that little French devil,
in spite of all I could say. Just look at her, what a little, insig
nificant thing she is—yet she can dance —but that is French, of
course. See how she whirls—egad ! she can dance—she goes
through the circle like a bird. But to dance well, Dick, don’t
make the fine woman ! No! no! Deuce take the fellow that
has no eyes for a proper object.”
I was whirled away at this moment, but when I got back to
my place, he was there still, continuing his running commentary.
Look at Mrs. Methuselah, there—the stiff embodiment of
Gallic dignity in the days of Louis le Grand—l mean, Madame
Agnes-Theresa. Oh ! she’s a beauty. See how she smiles and
simpers, as if she thought so herself. I suppose, however, it’s
only her pride that’s delighted at the fine evolutions of her little
French apology for a woman. And see, Ned, the rascal lie sees
nobody but her. He does not dream that lam watching him all
the while. I fancy, by the way, he does not greatly care! But
I’ll astonish him yet, Dick, you shall see! If he vexes me Til
marry again, by all that’s beautiful!”
Well might the soul of Ned Buhner be ravished out of his
eyes. Paula Bonneau is certainly the most exquisite little fairy
on the wing in a ball-room, that ever eye-sight strove in vain to
follow. Never sylph wandered or floated along the sands under
the hallowing moon-light and the breathing spells of the sweet
south, with a more witchlike or bewitching motion. She was the
observed of all observers; and it was a perfect study itself, ap
pealing to the gentle and amiable heart, to behold the rapt de-1
light in her stiff old grand dame’s eyes, as she followed her little ‘
SUPPLEMENT TO SOUTHERN LITERARY GAZETTE.
‘figure everywhere through the mazes of the dance. At that n lO .
ment, the old lady’s heart was in good humour with all the world
She even smiled t>n Major Bulmer as lie approached, though the
instant after, meeting with a profound and stately bow from him
she drew herself up to her full height, lifted her fan slowly, with
measured evolutions before her face, and seemed to be counting
the number of lustres in the chandelier.
“ What a conceited, consequential old fool!” muttered the Ma
jor, as he passed onward. “ Strange ! that poor old French wo
man actually persuades herself that she is a human beintr and of
reallv the fairest sort of material.”
Had he heard the unspoken comment of Madame Girardin at the
same moment upon himself!
y . “ iat you can never make a gentle
man of an Englishman. Physically, they are certainly well made
people, next to the French. Mentally, they are capable in sundry
departments. They are undoubtedly brave, and, if the French
were extinct, might be accounted the bravest of living races. They
have wealth and numerous old families, but all derived from the
Norman French. Still, there is a something wanting, without
which there can be no grace or refinement. They have the man
ners of oxen, —Bulls, —hence the name of John Bull, the propriety
of which they themselves acknowledge. You cannot make them
gentlemen by any process.”
But these mutual snarlers and satirists did not disturb the pro
gress of the ball. My next partner was Paula Bonneau. I looked
to see with whom Ned Bulmer had united his dancing destinies,
curious to ascertain how far he was disposed to comply with the
wishes of his father; but he was no where that I could see, while
Beatrice might be beheld floating away like a swan with my friend,
Gourdin. The Major came up to me in one of the pauses of the
drama.
“ That cub of mine,” say's he, “ has let the game escape him
again. 1 could wring his neck for him. He is now’ hopping it
with Monimia Porcher, —dancing with every body’ but the person
with whom I wish him to dance. What he not deserve !
And so the time passed till the short hours wore towards; and
then between 12 and 1, the supper signal was given, when we all
marched into the basement. I had secured the arm of Beatrice
Mazy’ck in the procession ; and when I entered the supper saloon,
conspicuous near the head of the table was Ned Bulmer, supplying
the plate of Paula Bonneau. The Major saw’ him at the same mo
ment, and was evidently no longer able to control his chagrin. Ik
looked all sorts of terrors. Mars never wore fiercer visage on a
frosty* night. His fury* lost him his supper, but he drank like a
lurk in secret. Beaker after beaker of rosy champagne was filled
and emptied, and when I returned up stairs with my fair compan
ion, I left him with the young men still busy below at the bottle.
AN hen he came above, which was some half an hour aftei, he
abruptly strode across the parlour to the spot where Ned was dill
in attendance upon Paula.
“Come, sir, said he, “if you mean to drive me home io-night.
lam ready—and your buggy Is ready, sir, —I have ahead} or
dered it.”
Ned was disquieted at the summons, but he quickly saw that
the old man’s nerves were disordered by the wine, and the b k
duty of the son became instantly active, prompting him to take