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to feel high aspirations on such subjects, in a

provincial town, than to succeed; for merely calling a place an

Emporium, is very far from giving it the independence, high tone,

condensed intelligence and tastes of a capital. Poor Mrs. Legend,

desirous of having all the tongues duly represented, was obliged to

invite certain dealers in gin from Holland, a German linen merchant

from Saxony, an Italian _Cavaliero_, who amused himself in selling

beads, and a Spanish master, who was born in Portugal, all of whom

had just one requisite for conversation in their respective

languages, and no more. But such assemblies were convened in Paris,

and why not in New-York?

 

We shall not stop to dwell on the awful sensations with which Mrs.

Legend heard the first ring at her door, on the eventful night in

question. It was the precursor of the entrance of Miss Annual, as

regular a devotee of letters as ever conned a primer. The meeting was

sentimental and affectionate. Before either had time, however, to

disburthen her mind of one half of its prepared phrases, ring upon

ring proclaimed more company, and the rooms were soon as much

sprinkled with talent, as a modern novel with jests. Among those who

came first, appeared all the foreign corps, for the refreshments

entered as something into the account with them; every blue of the

place, whose social position in the least entitled her to be seen in

such a house, Mrs. Legend belonging quite positively to good society.

 

The scene that succeeded was very characteristic. A professed genius

does nothing like other people, except in cases that require a

display of talents. In all minor matters he, or she, is _sui

generis_; for sentiment is in constant ebullition in their souls;

this being what is meant by the flow of that part of the human

system.

 

We might here very well adopt the Homeric method, and call the roll

of heroes and heroines, in what the French would term a _catalogue

raisonnee_; but our limits compel us to be less ambitions, and to

adopt a simpler mode of communicating facts. Among the ladies who now

figured in the drawing-room of Mrs. Legend, besides Miss Annual, were

Miss Monthly, Mrs. Economy, S.R.P., Marion, Longinus, Julietta,

Herodotus, D.O.V.E., and Mrs. Demonstration; besides many others of

less note; together with at least a dozen female Hajjis, whose claims

to appear in such society were pretty much dependent on the fact,

that having seen pictures and statues abroad, they necessarily must

have the means of talking of them at home. The list of men was still

more formidable in numbers, if not in talents. At its head stood

Steadfast Dodge, Esquire, whose fame as a male Hajji had so far

swollen since Mrs Jarvis's _reunion_, that, for the first time in his

life, he now entered one of the better houses of his own country.

Then there were the authors of "Lapis Lazuli," "The Aunts," "The

Reformed," "The Conformed," "The Transformed," and "The Deformed;"

with the editors of "The Hebdomad," "The Night Cap," "The Chrysalis,"

"The Real Maggot," and "The Seek no Further;" as also, "Junius,"

"Junius Brutus," "Lucius Junius Brutus," "Captain Kant," "Florio,"

the 'Author of the History of Billy Linkum Tweedle', the celebrated

Pottawattamie Prophet, "Single Rhyme," a genius who had prudently

rested his fame in verse, on a couplet composed of one line; besides

divers _amateurs_ and _connoisseurs_, Hajjis, who _must_ be men of

talents, as they had acquired all they knew, very much as American

Eclipse gained his laurels on the turf; that is to say, by a free use

of the whip and spur.

 

As Mrs. Legend sailed about her rooms amid such a circle, her mind

expanded, her thoughts diffused themselves among her guests on the

principle of Animal Magnetism, and her heart was melting with the

tender sympathies of congenial tastes. She felt herself to be at the

head of American talents, and, in the secret recesses of her reason,

she determined that, did even the fate of Sodom and Gomorrah menace

her native town, as some evil disposed persons had dared to insinuate

might one day be the case, here was enough to save it from

destruction.

 

It was just as the mistress of the mansion had come to this consoling

conclusion, that the party from Hudson Square rang. As few of her

guests came in carriages, Mrs. Legend, who heard the rolling of

wheels, felt persuaded that the lion of the night was now indeed at

hand; and with a view to a proper reception, she requested the

company to divide itself into two lines, in order that he might

enter, as it were, between lanes of genius.

 

It may be necessary to explain, at this point of our narrative, that

John Effingham was perfectly aware of the error which existed in

relation to the real character of Captain Truck, wherein he thought

great injustice had been done the honest seaman; and, the old man

intending to sail for London next morning, had persuaded him to

accept this invitation, in order that the public mind might be

disabused in a matter of so much importance. With a view that this

might be done naturally and without fuss, however, he did not explain

the mistake to his nautical friend, believing it most probable that

this could be better done incidentally, as it were, in the course of

the evening; and feeling certain of the force of that wholesome

apothegm, which says that "truth is powerful and must prevail" "If

this be so," added John Effingham, in his explanations to Eve, "there

can be no place where the sacred quality will be so likely to assert

itself, as in a galaxy of geniuses, whose distinctive characteristic

is 'an intuitive perception of things in their real colours."

 

When the door of Mrs. Legend's drawing-room opened, in the usual

noiseless manner, Mademoiselle Viefville, who led the way, was

startled at finding herself in the precise situation of one who is

condemned to run the gauntlet. Fortunately, she caught a glimpse of

Mrs. Legend, posted at the other end of the proud array, inviting

her, with smiles, to approach. The invitation had been to a

"_literary fete_," and Mademoiselle Viefville was too much of a

Frenchwoman to be totally disconcerted at a little scenic effect on

the occasion of a _fete_ of any sort. Supposing she was now a witness

of an American ceremony for the first time, for the want of

_representation_ in the country had been rather a subject of

animadversion with her, she advanced steadily towards the mistress of

the house, bestowing smile for smile, this being a part of the

_programme_ at which a _Parisienne_ was not easily outdone. Eve

followed, as usual, _sola_; Grace came next; then Sir George; then

John Effingham; the captain bringing up the rear. There had been a

friendly contest, for the precedency, between the two last, each

desiring to yield it to the other on the score of merit; but the

captain prevailed, by declaring "that he was navigating an unknown

sea, and that he could do nothing wiser than to sail in the wake of

so good a pilot as Mr. John Effingham."

 

As Hajjis of approved experience, the persons who led the advance in

this little procession, were subjects of a proper attention and

respect; but as the admiration of mere vulgar travelling would in

itself be vulgar, care was taken to reserve the condensed feeling of

the company for the celebrated English writer and wit, who was known

to bring up the rear. This was not a common house, in which dollars

had place, or _belles_ rioted, but the temple of genius; and every

one felt an ardent desire to manifest a proper homage to the

abilities of the established foreign writer, that should be in exact

proportion to their indifference to the twenty thousand a year of

John Effingham, and to the nearly equal amount of Eve's expectations.

 

The personal appearance of the honest tar was well adapted to the

character he was thus called on so unexpectedly to support. His hair

had long been getting grey, but the intense anxiety of the chase, of

the wreck, and of his other recent adventures, had rapidly, but

effectually, increased this mark of time; and his head was now nearly

as white as snow. The hale, fresh, red of his features, which was in

truth the result of exposure, might very well pass for the tint of

port, and his tread, which had always a little of the quarterdeck

swing about it, might quite easily be mistaken by a tyro, for the

human frame staggering under a load of learning. Unfortunately for

those who dislike mystifications, the captain had consulted John

Effingham on the subject of the toilette, and that kind and indulgent

friend had suggested the propriety of appearing in black small-

clothes for the occasion, a costume that he often wore himself of an

evening. Reality, in this instance, then, did not disappoint

expectation, and the burst of applause with which the captain was

received, was accompanied by a general murmur in commendation of the

admirable manner in which he "looked the character."

 

"What a Byronic head," whispered the author of "The Transformed" to

D.O.V.E.; "and was there ever such a curl of the lip, before, to

mortal man!"

 

The truth is, the captain had thrust his tobacco into "an aside," as

a monkey is known to _empocher_ a spare nut, or a lump of sugar.

 

"Do you think him Byronic?--To my eye, the cast of his head is

Shaksperian, rather; though I confess there is a little of Milton

about the forehead!"

 

"Pray," said Miss Annual, to Lucius Junius Brutus, "which is commonly

thought to be the best of his works; that on a--a--a,--or that on e--

e--e?"

 

Now, so it happened, that not a soul in the room, but the lion

himself, had any idea what books he had written, and he knew only of

some fifteen or twenty log-books. It was generally understood, that

he was a great English writer, and this was more than sufficient.

 

"I believe the world generally prefers the a--a--a," said Lucius

Junius Brutus; "but the few give a decided preference to the e--e--

e----"

 

"Oh! out of all question preferable!" exclaimed half a dozen, in

hearing.

 

"With what a classical modesty he pays his compliments to Mrs.

Legend," observed "S. R. P."--"One can always tell a man of real

genius, by his _tenu_!"

 

"He is so English!" cried Florio. "Ah! _they_ are the only people,

after all!"

 

This Florio was one of those geniuses who sigh most for the things

that they least possess.

 

By this time Captain Truck had got through with listening to the

compliments of Mrs. Legend, when he, was seized upon by a circle of

rabid literati, who badgered him with questions concerning his

opinions, notions, inferences, experiences, associations, sensations,

sentiments and intentions, in a way that soon threw the old man into

a profuse perspiration. Fifty times did he wish, from the bottom of

his soul, that soul which the crowd around him fancied dwelt so nigh

in the clouds, that he was seated quietly by the side of Mrs. Hawker,

who, he mentally swore, was worth all the _literati_ in Christendom.

But fate had decreed otherwise, and we shall leave him to his

fortune, for a time, and return to our heroine and her party.

 

As soon as Mrs. Legend had got through with her introductory

compliments to the captain, she sought Eve and Grace, with a

consciousness that a few civilities were now their due.

 

"I fear, Miss Effingham, after the elaborate _soirees_ of the

literary circles in Paris, you will find our _reunions_ of the same

sort, a little dull; and yet I flatter myself with having assembled

most of the talents of New-York on this memorable occasion, to do

honour to your friend. Are you acquainted with many of the company?"

 

Now, Eve had never seen nor ever heard of a single being in the room,

with the exception of Mr. Dodge and her own party, before this night,

although most of them had been so laboriously employed in puffing

each other into celebrity, for many weary years; and, as for

elaborate _soirees_, she thought she had never seen one half as

elaborate as this of Mrs. Legend's. As it would not very well do,

however, to express all this in words, she civilly desired the lady

to point out to her some of the most distinguished of the company.

 

"With the greatest pleasure, Miss Effingham," Mrs. Legend taking

pride in dwelling on the merits of her guests.--"This heavy, grand-

looking personage, in whose air one sees refinement and modesty at a

glance, is Captain Kant, the editor of one of our most decidedly

pious newspapers. His mind is distinguished for its intuitive

perception of all that is delicate, reserved and finished in the

intellectual world, while, in opposition to this quality, which is

almost feminine, his character is just as remarkable for its

unflinching love of truth. He was never known to publish a