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SKETCHES AND ANECDOTES.

My dear Nephews:

In accordance with the promise with which I concluded my last letter, I will give you, in this, narrated in my homely way, some anecdotes, illustrative of the opinions I have expressed upon the subject of DRESS.

Liking, sometimes, to amuse myself by a study of the masses, in holyday attire and holyday humor—to see the bone and sinew of our great country, the people who make our laws, and for whose good they are administered by their servants, enjoying a jubilee, and wishing also to meet some old friends who were to be there (among others, Gen. Wool, who, though politicians accused him of going to lay pipe for the presidency, is a right good fellow, and the very soul of old-fashioned hospitality), I went on one occasion to a little city in western New York, to attend a State Fair.

On the night of the fête that concluded the affair, your cousins, Grace and Gerté, to whom you all say I can refuse nothing, however unreasonable, insisted that I should be their escort, and protested warmly against my remonstrances upon the absurdity of an old fellow like me being kept up until after midnight to watch, like a griffin guarding his treasures, while two silly girls danced with some "whiskered Pandoor," or some "fierce huzzar," who would be as much puzzled to tell where he won his epaulettes as was our (militia) Gen. ——, of whom, when he was presented to that sovereign, on the occasion of a court levee, Louis Philippe asked, "where he had served!"

It would not become me to repeat half the flattering things by which their elegant chaperon, Mrs. B. seconded the coaxing declarations of your cousins, that they would be "enough more proud to go with Uncle Hal than with all the half-dozen beaux together," whose services had been formally tendered and accepted for the occasion.

"Yes, indeed," cried Gerté, "for Uncle Hal is a real soldier!" And I believe the wheedling rogue actually pressed her velvety lips to the ugly sabre scar that helps to mar my time-worn visage.

"Col. Lunettes is too gallant not to lay down his arms when ladies are his assailants!" said Mrs. B. with one of her conquering smiles. "Well, ladies," said I, "I cry you mercy—

"'Was ever colonel by such sirens wooed,

Was ever colonel by such sirens won!'"

I have no intention to inflict upon you a long description of the festivities of the evening. Suffice it to say upon that point, that the "beauty and fashion," as the newspapers phrase it, not only of the Empire State, but of the Old Dominion, and others of the fair sisterhood of our Union, were brilliantly represented.

When our little party entered the dancing-room, which we did at rather a late hour, for we had been listening to some good speaking in another apartment—the ladies declared that they preferred to do so, as they could dance at any time, but rarely had an opportunity of hearing distinguished men speak in public—the "observed of all observers," among the fairer part of the assembly, and the envy, of course, of all the male candidates for admiration, was young "General——," one of the aids-de-camp of the Governor of the State. In attendance upon his superior officer, who was present with the rest of his staff, our juvenile Mars was in full military dress, and made up, as the ladies say, in the most elaborate and accepted style of love-locks (I have no idea what their modern name may be), whiskers and moustaches. The glow that mantled the cheeks of the triumphant Boanerges could not have been deeper dyed had his "modesty," like that of Washington, when overpowered by the first public tribute rendered to him by Congress, "been equalled only by his bravery!"

"He above the rest in shape and gesture,

Proudly eminent."

but apparently, wholly unconscious of the attention of which he was the subject, was smilingly engrossed by his devotion to the changes of the dance, and to his fair partner; and the last object that attracted my eye, as we retired from the field of his glory, were the well-padded military coat, the curling moustaches and sparkling eyes of "Adjutant-Gen. ——!"

True to my old-fashioned notions of propriety, I went the next morning to pay my respects to Mrs. B., and to look after your cousins—especially that witch Gerté, whom her father had requested me to "keep an eye upon," when placing her under my care for the journey to the Fair.

I found the whole fair bevy assembled in the drawing-room, and in high spirits.

After the usual inquiries put and answered, Grace cried out, "Oh! Uncle Hal, I must tell you! Gen. ——has been here this morning! He was wearing such a beautiful coat!—his dress last night was nothing to it!—it fairly took all our hearts by storm!"

At these words, a merry twinkle, as bright and harmless as sheet lightning, darted round the circle.

The master of the house entered at that moment, and before the conversation he had interrupted was fairly renewed, invited me into the adjoining dining-room to "take a mouthful of lunch."

While my host and I sat at a side-table, sipping a little excellent old Cognac, with just a dash of ice water in it (a bad practice, a very bad practice, by the by, my boys, which I would strenuously counsel you not to fall into; but an inveterate habit acquired by an old soldier when no one thought of it being very wrong) the lively chit-chat in the drawing-room occasionally reached my ears.

"It was tissue, I am quite sure!" said Miss——.

"No matter about the material—the color would have redeemed anything!" cried Grace.

"Sea-green!" chimed in the flute notes of another of the gay junto, "what can equal the General's verdancy?"

"What?" (here I recognized the animated voice of the lady of the mansion); "why, only his mauvais ton, in 'congratulating' me upon having 'so many' at my reception for Governor and Mrs. ——, the other evening, and his equally flattering assurance that he had not seen so 'brilliant a military turn-out in a long time'—meaning, of course, his elegant self! You are mistaken, however, Laura, about his coat being of tissue, it was lawn, and had just come home from his lawn-dress, when he put it on. I distinctly saw the mark of the smoothing-iron on the cuff, as well as that his wristband was soiled considerably."

"He had only had time to 'change' his coat since he went 'home with the girls in the morning,'" chimed in some one, "and his hair, I noticed as he rose to make what he called his 'farewell bow of exit,' was filled with the dust of that dirty ball-room."

"Which couldn't be brushed out without taking out the curl, too, I suppose!" This last sally emanated I believe, from one of the most amiable, usually, of the group.

"Well," said the hostess, with a half-sigh of relief, "he seldom inflicts himself upon me! His grand entrée this morning, in the character of a katy-did, gotten up à la mode naturelle," (here there was a general clapping of hands, accompanied by bravos that would have rejoiced the heart of a prima donna), "was, no doubt, occasioned by his having heard some one say that, what vulgar people style a 'party call,' was incumbent upon him after my reception. What a pity his informant had not also enlightened him on another point of ettiquetty, as old Mr. Smith calls it, and so spared me the mortification, my dears, of presenting to you, as a specimen of the beaux of——, and one of the aids-de-camp of Governor——, a man making a visit of ceremony in a bright, pea-green, thin muslin shooting-jacket!"

Bulwer, the novelist, when I was last in London, some two or three years ago—and for aught I know he still continues the practice—used to appear in his seat in the English House of Commons one day in light-colored hair, eye-brows and whiskers, with an entire suit to correspond; and the next, perhaps, in black hair, etc., accompanied by a black coat, neckcloth, and so on throughout the catalogue. A proof of the admitted eccentricities of genius, I suppose.

D——, who is now a very respectable veteran lawyer, and well known in the courts of the Empire State, was originally a Green Mountain Boy—tall, a trifle ungainly, with a laugh that might have shaken his native hills, rather unmanageable hair, each individual member of the fraternity, instead of regarding the true democratic principle, often choosing to keep "Independence" on its own account, and a walk that required the whole breadth of an ordinary side-walk to bring out all its claims to admiration. Though D—— did not sacrifice to the graces, he really wrote very clever "Lines;" but his shrewd native sense taught him that a reputation as a magazine poet would not have a direct tendency to increase the number of his clients. So the sometime devotee of the Muse of Poetry, bravely eschewing the open use of a talent that, together with his ever-ready good-humor and quiet Yankee drollery, had brought him somewhat into favor in society, despite his natural disadvantages, entered into partnership with an old practitioner in A——, and bent himself to his career with sturdy energy of purpose.

"New Year" coming round again in the good old Dutch city where D—— had pitched his tent, some of his friends offered to take him with them in their round of calls, and introduce him to such of their fair friends as it was desirable to know; hinting, at the same time, that this would afford a suitable occasion for donning a suit of new and fashionable garments.

On the first of January, therefore, agreeable to appointment, his broad, pock-marked face—luminous as a colored lantern outside an oyster-saloon—and his gait more than usually diffusive, D—— was seen coming along from his lodgings, to meet his companions for the day's expedition, and evidently with sails full set. It soon became apparent to all beholders, not only that the grub had been transformed into a full-fledged butterfly of fashion, but—that he wore his long, wide, ample-caped, new cloak wrong side out!

At the recent Peace Convention in Paris, even those strenuous adherents to things as they were, the Turks, wore the usual dress of Europeans and Americans throughout, with the single exception of the fez, which, I believe, no adherent of Mahomet will renounce, except with his religion. Young Charles P—— told me that Count Orloff's sable-lined talma was of the most unexceptionable Parisian cut.

An agreeable young friend of mine, the Rev. Mr. H., contrives to support a family (Heaven only knows how!) upon the few hundred dollars a year that make the usual salary of a country clergyman. He indulges himself, at rare intervals, in a visit to his fashionable city relatives, by way of necessary relaxation, and to brush up a little in matters of taste, literature, etc. Perhaps, too, he thinks it well, occasionally, to return, with his wife and children, the long visits made every summer by a pretty fair representation of his numerous family circle at the pleasant little rectory, where refinement, industry, and the ingenuity of a practical housekeeper, create a charm often lacking in more pretentious establishments.

On one of these important occasions, it was decided that the handsome young rector should avail himself of his city jaunt to purchase a new suit of clothes, his best clerical coat, notwithstanding the most careful use and the neatest repairing, being no longer presentable for ceremonious purposes. (I make no doubt that the compatibility of the contemplated journey and the new clothes, both in the same year, was anxiously discussed in family council.)

As soon as possible after his arrival in town, my clerical friend broached the all-important subject of the tailor, to one of his brothers, a youth of unquestionable authority in such matters, and invoked his assistance.

"With all my heart, Will, we'll drop in at my own place, as we go down this morning; they get everything up there artistically." "And at artistic prices, I fear," soliloquized the new candidate for the honors of the cloth, with a slight quaking at heart, as a long-cherished plan for adding, without her previous knowledge, a shawl to the waning bridal outfit of his self-sacrificing wife, rose before his mental vision.

"But, I say, Will," inquired his modish brother, of our young clergyman, in a tone of good-humored banter, as they sauntered down Broadway together, after breakfast, "where did you buy your new chapeau?"

"At A——, before leaving home"——

"Excuse me, my dear fellow, but it's a nondescript! It will never do with your new suit, allow me to say, frankly."

"But the person of whom I bought it had just returned from New York, and he assured me it was the latest fashion! I gave him eight dollars for it, at any rate."

"Preposterous!" ejaculated the man of fashion, in a tone portentous as that which ushered in the "prodigious" of Dominie Sampson, when astounded by his discoveries in the mysteries of the toilet. "It first saw the light in the 'rural districts,' depend on't!"

The quizzical glances with which his companion ever and anon scrutinized the crowning glory of his neat morning attire, as he had previously thought it, gradually overpowered the philosophy of my friend—clergyman though he was—the admitted Adonis of his class in college, and the favorite of ladies, old and young. The church's

——"favorites are but men. And who e'er felt the stoic when First conscious of"——

wearing a "shocking bad hat!" The result was, that the condemned article was exchanged at a fashionable establishment for one fully meeting the approbation of the modish critic.

"What! another new hat?" cried the young wife, whose quick woman's eye at once caught the je ne sais quoi—the air of the thing, as her husband rejoined her later in the day.

The gentleman explained;—"And you thought the other so becoming too, Belle," he added, in a half-deprecatory tone; "but Chauncey was so strenuous about it, and I knew he would appeal to you, and that you would not be satisfied without"——

"But they allowed you really nothing for the other, though it was quite new, and certainly a nice hat. What a pity, now, that you did not travel in your old one, though it was a little worse for wear, or even in the cap you bought to fish in. There was Mr. ——in the same car with us, looking anything but elegant, I am sure, with the queerest-looking old 'Kossuth,' I believe they are called, on, and the roughest overcoat!"

"But, you know, Belle, dear, such a dress is not considered admissible for the clergy."

"No! well, whatever is sensible and convenient should be, I am convinced now, if I was not before."

Our young clergyman, as he turned the still-cherished plan of the new shawl anxiously in his mind, a "sadder and a wiser" man than before, determined never again to buy a new dress hat expressly to perform a journey in, especially when going directly from the "rural districts" to a large city; besides laying up for future use some other collateral resolutions and reflections of an equally wise and practical character.

"Why, Belle," said the "superb" Chauncey to his fair sister-in-law, drawing her little son nearer to him, as he leaned on his mother's lap after dinner, "this is really a magnificent boy, 'pon-my-word!—you should take him to 'Bradbrook's' and fit him up! Would you like a velvet jacket, eh, my fine fellow?"

The curly-headed child pointed his dimpled forefinger towards the pretty garment he was wearing, and said, timidly, "Pretty new coata, mamma made for him."

"I believe," responded the young mother, quietly, bending her beaming eyes upon the little face lovingly upturned to hers, "that Willie will have to do without a velvet jacket for the present; mamma intended to get one for him in New York, but"——the sentence was finished mentally with "papa's second new hat has taken the money." This will reveal the secretly-cherished plan of the young rector's wife, with which a faint sketch of a pretty cap to crown the shining curls of her darling, had dimly mingled, almost unconsciously to herself, until brought out by the power of that "tide in the affairs of men"—necessity!

Sitting in the same seat in a railroad car with ex-Chief-Justice——, than whom there is no more eminent jurist nor finished gentleman in the land, discoursing earnestly of old times and new, our conversation was suddenly interrupted, as we stopped to feed our iron steed, by the loud salutation of a youth who seemed to take more pains than the law requires under such circumstances, to enunciate the name of my companion. "Pleasant morning, Judge!—if I don't intrude" (a glance at me, and no introduction by the chief-justice), "is this seat unoccupied?" And down he sat vis-à-vis to us.

He had the talk pretty much to himself, for a while. By-and-by, our uninvited guest apologized for his gloves, half-worn fine black kid. They were "really too bad; must have taken them up by mistake, in the hurry of getting off," etc.

"I always keep an old pair expressly for these abominably dirty cars, but, I believe, I have forgotten to put them on this morning," said the venerable lawyer, in a peculiarly quiet tone, unfolding, as he spoke, the ample, old-fashioned, travel-worn camlet cloak, beneath which his arms had hitherto been crossed, and thus revealing his neat, simple dress, and the warm, clean lining of his outer garment. Taking a well-worn pair of soft beaver gloves from an inside pocket, the judge, with an air of peculiar deliberation, drew them upon hands, "small to a fault," as the novels say, and as white as those myths are supposed to be, and re-adjusted his arms and cloak with the same deliberation. A nice observer might note a slight gleam of the well-known smile, whose expressive sarcasm had so often withstood professional insolence and ignorance, as the chief justice turned his head, and cursorily surveyed his fellow-passengers.

"Who is that young man, sir?" I inquired, when we were, soon after, upon again stopping, relieved of the presence of this jackanapes.

"His name is——," replied the judge. "A scion of the law, I think now—a son of the——, who made a fortune, you may remember, by the sudden rise of West India molasses, some few years ago (a pause). I never rate a man by his antecedents, Colonel, but a little modesty is always suitable and becoming, in very young persons," added the chief-justice, somewhat sententiously.

You will, perhaps, remember the commotion created by the promulgation of Marcy's edict respecting the dress to be worn on state occasions, by our representatives abroad.

Our accomplished young countryman, Mr. H. S——, though nominally Secretary of Legation, was virtually our minister, at St. Cloud, when this order was published. In simple compliance with his instructions, the American secretary appeared at a court dinner in the suit of plain black, prescribed by his government. The premonitions of a revolution could scarcely have created more consternation among the officials of the Tuileries, and even the diplomatic dignitaries assembled, experienced a sensation. The Turkish ambassador was surprised out of the usually imperturbable stoicism of a devout follower of the mighty prophet of Moslemdom.

"What are you doing here," he growled, as the young republican arrested his attention, in language more remarkable for Oriental figurativeness than for Parisian elegance, "a raven among so many birds of gay plumage?"

The newspaper writers of the day, commenting upon this, said that the minister from Venezuela—the most insignificant government represented, was most bedizened with gold lace, stars, and trumpery of every sort. These letters, prepared for home perusal, were re-published in the Paris papers, and of course, met the eyes of all the parties alluded to!

S—— told one of my friends that among the annoyances to which the whole affair subjected him, was that of being subsequently constantly thrown in contact with the various personages with whose names his own had been, without his previous knowledge, unceremoniously, associated.

No doubt, however, his skillful diplomacy carried him as triumphantly through this difficulty as through others of vital importance.

Dining with this polished young diplomate, at the Tremont in Boston, where we met soon after his return home, the conversation turned upon the personal appearance of Louis Napoleon, and from his wire-drawn moustaches diverged to the subject of beards in general.

"The truth is, Col. Lunettes," said Mr. S——, in French—which by the way, he both speaks and writes, as he does his native tongue, with great purity and propriety, and this to our shame be it said, is far enough from being generally the case with our various officials abroad, "the truth is, Col. Lunettes, (I detected a just perceptible glance at my furrowed cheek, which was, however, smooth-shaven as his own) that a clean face is getting to be the distinctive mark of a gentleman!"

"My dear Miss——," said I to a charming woman, whose cordial smile of recognition drew me within the magic circle of her influence, at a ball, where I had been for some little time a 'quiet looker-on,' "will you pardon the temerity of an old friend in inquiring what induced your chilling reception of the handsome stranger whom I saw presented to you with such empressement by our host a little while ago? If you could have seen the admiration with which he long regarded you at a distance, 'his eye in a fine frenzy rolling,'—as he leaned against the—the corner of the big fiddle, there, while the music was at supper!—could you have seen this, as others saw it, and then the look of deep desperation with which he swallowed a bottle of champagne at a standing, when he fled from your frowns to the supper-room!—Really, Miss——, I have seldom had my sympathies so excited for a stranger"—

By this time her ringing laugh stirred the blood into quicker pulsations through my time-steeled heart; "Oh, Colonel, Colonel!" cried she, in tones, mirth-engendering as the silvery call of Dian, goddess of the dewy morn, (is that poetry, I wonder?) "I see you are just as delightfully quizzical as during our Alpine journey together. I have never quite forgiven the Fates for robbing our party of so inimitable a compagnon de voyage, and me of"—"so devout an admirer!" I chimed in: "and me of so devout an admirer," proceeded the lady, with a quick spirit-flash in her deep violet eyes, "and when we were just becoming so well acquainted, too! It was too provoking! Do you remember the amusement we had from recalling the various characteristic exclamations of the different members of our party, when the Italian plains burst upon our view, out-spread before us in the morning sunlight, after that horrid night in the shepherd's hut?"

"If I recollect, it was your avowed slave, 'gentleman John' as you called him, who shouted, 'O, ye Gods and little fishes!—nothing bad about that, by thunder?' That fellow carried the ladies, as he did everything else, by storm"—

"No, no, Colonel, not all the ladies; but I was going to tell you about this 'mysterious stranger,' or 'romantic stranger'—what sobriquet did you give him? Suppose we go nearer the door, it is so warm here," and she twined an arm that threw Powers into a rapture,[2] confidingly around the support proffered her by an old soldier, and we gradually escaped from the crowd (any one of the men would willingly have stillettoed me, I dare say!) into a cool corner of the hall.

"I am sorry you thought me rude, colonel," she began, a tint, soft as the shadow of a crimson rose flitting over her expressive face.

I entered a protest.

"I dare say my manner was peculiar," resumed my fair companion, "but I fear 'no rule of courtly grace to measured mood' will ever 'train' my face; and—the truth is, Colonel, that, though I love and honor my own countrymen beyond the men of all other lands, I do wish they would imitate well-bred foreigners in some respects. I hate coxcombs! I believe every woman does at heart. Now, here is this person, Colonel C——, I think, if I heard the name?"

"Wherefore Colonel, and of what?" thought I, but I only answered—"Really, I am not able to say."

"Well, at any rate, I identified the man, beyond a peradventure, as the same individual who sufficed for my entertainment during a little journey from home to G——, the other day. As papa, in his stately way, you know, committed me to the care of the conductor, saying that 'Miss——'s friends would receive her at G——,' I observed (luckily, my fastidious father did not) the broad stare with which a great bearded creature, at a little distance from us, turned round in his seat and surveyed us. When I withdrew from the window, from which I had looked to receive—to say good-bye, again, to papa"—

I would have given—I think I would have given—my Lundy-Lane sword, to have occasioned the momentary quiver in that musical voice, and the love-light in that half-averted eye! After a scarce perceptible pause, the lovely narrator proceeded:

"There was that huge moon-struck face—["sun-struck, perhaps?" I queried, receiving a slight fan-pass for my pains]—such a contrast to papa's! staring straight at me, still. I busied myself with a book behind my veil, and presently knew, without looking, that the gentleman had gradually returned to his former position. Now came my turn to scrutinize, though the 'game was scarcely worth the powder.'"

"Spoken like the true daughter of a gentleman-sportsman!" I exclaimed, and this time was rewarded with an irradiating smile.

"Well, such a rolling about of that alderman-like figure, such a buttoning and unbuttoning! But this was all nothing to his steam-engine industry in the use of the 'weed.' I turned sick as I observed part of the shawl of a lady sitting before the creature hanging over near him. After a while, he sallied forth, at one of the stopping-places, and soon returned with—(expressive hue!)—an immense green apple! It seemed for a time likely to prove the apple of discord, judging from the hungry glances cast at it by a long, lank, thinly-clad old man across the car. But now came the 'tug of war.' It scarce required my woman's wit to divine the motive that had prompted the tasteful selection of the alderman's lunch. A glove was pompously drawn off, and—behold! a great pâté of a ring on the smallest, I cannot truthfully say little-finger, set with a huge red cornelian, that looked for all the world like a cranberry-jam in a setting of puff-paste! As the big apple slowly diminished under the greedy eyes of the venerable spectator of this rich Tantalus-feast, my heart melted with pity."

A well-affected look of surprise on the part of her auditor, here claimed the attention of the fair speaker.

"Don't alarm yourself, Colonel! 'Pity 'tis, 'tis true,' my compassion was excited only towards the poor finger that, stout as it looked, must soon be worn to the bone, if often compelled to do duty at the speed with which it was worked that day. Imagine the poor thing stuck straight out with that heavy stone pâté upon it, while the proprietor plied his hand from his mouth to the car-window behind him, with the industrious regularity of a steam ferry-boat, professedly laden with little bits of apple-skin, but really intended—oh, most flattering tribute to my discriminating powers!—to captivate my fancy, through my eye!"

When my amusement had somewhat subsided, I said to my fair friend:

"I suppose the doughty alderman finished his repast, like Jack the Giant-killer, by eating up the famishing old man who had the insolence to watch him while breakfasting?"

"I am happy to be able to say," replied she, "that the long, lean, lanky representative of our fallen race, not only escaped being thoroughly masticated and thrown by little handfuls out of the car-window, but when Jack the Giant-killer, and almost every one else had gone out of the car, was presented by a lady with two nice large sandwiches that she happened not to need."

"And that benevolent lady was"——

A movement among the dancers here crowded several acquaintances into such close contact with us that we could not avoid overhearing their conversation.

"Do you know that large man, wearing so much beard, Mr. Jerome?"

"Know him? certainly I do, Miss Blakeman. That's C——, Col. C——, the rich New York grocer. He is one of the city aldermen—they talk of him for the legislature—quite a character, I assure you."

"He evidently thinks so himself," rejoined one of the group; "just notice him in that polka! I heard him telling a lady, a moment ago, that he had not missed a single set, and wouldn't for anything."

"They say," pursued a lady, "that he is paying his addresses to that pretty little Miss S——, who was so much admired here, last winter; she is an orphan, I think, and quite an heiress."

A perceptible shiver ran through the clinging arm that still graced my own, and as I moved away with my sweet charge, she murmured, in the musical tongue of the Beautiful Land, as she ever calls Italy, "the gentle dove for the vulture's mate!"

Will that do for this time, boys? Or do you require that, in imitation of the little Grecian Hunch-back, a moral shall be appended to each of his narratives, by your