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and this

portion of his demeanour, if it did not escape undetected, passed

away unnoticed. Not so, however, with the peculiarity already

mentioned as an exception. This touch of deportment, (or management,

perhaps, is the better word,) being characteristic of the man, it

deserves to be mentioned a little in detail.

 

The service at Mr. Effingham's table was made in the quiet, but

thorough manner that distinguishes a French dinner. Every dish was

removed, carved by the domestics, and handed in turn to each guest.

But there were a delay and a finish in this arrangement that

suited neither Aristabulus's go-a-head-ism, nor his organ of

acquisitiveness. Instead of waiting, therefore, for the more

graduated movements of the domestics, he began to take care of

himself, an office that he performed with a certain dexterity that he

had acquired by frequenting ordinaries--a school, by the way, in

which he had obtained most of his notions of the proprieties of the

table. One or two slices were obtained in the usual manner, or by

means of the regular service; and, then, like one who had laid the

foundation of a fortune, by some lucky windfall in the commencement

of his career, he began to make accessions, right and left, as

opportunity offered. Sundry _entremets_, or light dishes that had a

peculiarly tempting appearance, came first under his grasp. Of these

he soon accumulated all within his reach, by taxing his neighbours,

when he ventured to send his plate, here and there, or wherever he

saw a dish that promised to reward his trouble. By such means, which

were resorted to, however, with a quiet and unobtrusive assiduity

that escaped much observation, Mr. Bragg contrived to make his own

plate a sample epitome of the first course. It contained in the

centre, fish, beef, and ham; and around these staple articles, he had

arranged _croquettes, rognons, ragouts_, vegetables, and other light

things, until not only was the plate completely covered, but it was

actually covered in double and triple layers; mustard, cold butter,

salt, and even pepper, garnishing its edges. These different

accumulations were the work of time and address, and most of the

company had repeatedly changed their plates before Aristabulus had

eaten a mouthful, the soup excepted. The happy moment when his

ingenuity was to be rewarded, had now arrived, and the land agent was

about to commence the process of mastication, or of deglutition

rather, for he troubled himself very little with the first operation,

when the report of a cork drew his attention towards the chaimpaigne.

To Aristabulus this wine never came amiss, for, relishing its

piquancy, he had never gone far enough into the science of the table

to learn which were the proper moments for using it. As respected all

the others at table, this moment had in truth arrived, though, as

respected himself, he was no nearer to it, according to a regulated

taste, than when he first took his seat. Perceiving that Pierre was

serving it, however, he offered his own glass, and enjoyed a

delicious instant, as he swallowed a beverage that much surpassed any

thing he had ever known to issue out of the waxed and leaded nozles

that, pointed like so many enemies' batteries, loaded with headaches

and disordered stomachs, garnished sundry village bars of his

acquaintance.

 

Aristabulus finished his glass at a draught, and when he took breath,

he fairly smacked his lips. That was an unlucky instant, his plate,

burthened with all its treasures, being removed, at this unguarded

moment; the man who performed the unkind office, fancying that a

dislike to the dishes could alone have given rise to such an omnium-

gatherum.

 

It was necessary to commence _de novo_, but this could no longer be

done with the first course, which was removed, and Aristabulus set-

to, with zeal, forthwith, on the game. Necessity compelled him to

eat, as the different dishes were offered; and, such was his ordinary

assiduity with the knife and fork, that, at the end of the second

remove, he had actually disposed of more food than any other person

at table. He now began to converse, and we shall open the

conversation at the precise point in the dinner, when it was in the

power of Aristabulus to make one of the interlocutors.

 

Unlike Mr. Dodge, he had betrayed no peculiar interest in the

baronet, being a man too shrewd and worldly to set his heart on

trifles of any sort; and Mr. Bragg no more hesitated about replying

to Sir George Templemore, or Mr. Effingham, than he would have

hesitated about answering one of his own nearest associates. With him

age and experience formed no particular claims to be heard, and, as

to rank, it is true he had some vague ideas about there being such a

thing in the militia, but as it was unsalaried rank, he attached no

great importance to it. Sir George Templemore was inquiring

concerning the recording of deeds, a regulation that had recently

attracted attention in England; and one of Mr. Effingham's replies

contained some immaterial inaccuracy, which Aristabulus took occasion

to correct, as his first appearance in the general discourse.

 

"I ask pardon, sir," he concluded his explanations by saying, "but I

ought to know these little niceties, having served a short part of a

term as a county clerk, to fill a vacancy occasioned by a death."

 

"You mean, Mr. Bragg, that you were employed to _write_ in a county

clerk's office," observed John Effingham, who so much disliked

untruth, that he did not hesitate much about refuting it; or what he

now fancied to be an untruth.

 

"As county clerk, sir. Major Pippin died a year before his time was

out, and I got the appointment. As regular a county clerk, sir, as

there is in the fifty-six counties of New-York."

 

"When I had the honour to engage you as Mr. Effingham's agent, sir,"

returned the other, a little sternly, for he felt his own character

for veracity involved in that of the subject of his selection, "I

believe, indeed, that you were writing in the office, but I did not

understand it was as _the_ clerk."

 

"Very true, Mr. John," returned Aristabulus, without discovering the

least concern, "I was _then_ engaged by my successor as _a_ clerk;

but a few months earlier, I filled the office myself."

 

"Had you gone on, in the regular line of promotion, my dear sir,"

pithily inquired Captain Truck, "to what preferment would you have

risen by this time?"

 

"I believe I understand you, gentlemen," returned the unmoved

Aristabulus, who perceived a general smile. "I know that some people

are particular about keeping pretty much on the same level, as to

office: but I hold to no such doctrine. If one good thing cannot be

had, I do not see that it is a reason for rejecting another. I ran

that year for sheriff, and finding I was not strong enough to carry

the county, I accepted my successor's offer to write in the office,

until something better might turn up."

 

"You practised all this time, I believe, Mr. Bragg," observed John

Effingham.

 

"I did a little in that way, too, sir; or as much as I could. Law is

flat with us, of late, and many of the attorneys are turning their

attention to other callings."

 

"And pray, sir," asked Sir George, "what is the favourite pursuit

with most of them, just now?"

 

"Some our way have gone into the horse-line; but much the greater

portion are, just now, dealing in western cities.

 

"In western cities!" exclaimed the baronet, looking as if he

distrusted a mystification.

 

"In such articles, and in mill-seats, and rail-road lines, and other

expectations."

 

"Mr. Bragg means that they are buying and selling lands on which it

is hoped all these conveniences may exist, a century hence,"

explained John Effingham.

 

"The _hope_ is for next year, or next week, even, Mr. John," returned

Aristabulus, with a sly look, "though you may be very right as to the

_reality_. Great fortunes have been made on a capital of hopes,

lately, in this country."

 

"And have you been able, yourself, to resist these temptations?"

asked Mr. Effingham. "I feel doubly indebted to you, sir, that you

should have continued to devote your time to my interests, while so

many better things were offering."

 

"It was my duty, sir," said Aristabulus, bowing so much the lower,

from the consciousness that he had actually deserted his post for

some months, to embark in the western speculations that were then so

active in the country, "not to say my pleasure. There are many

profitable occupations in this country, Sir George, that have been

overlooked in the eagerness to embark in the town-trade--"

 

"Mr. Bragg does not mean trade in town, but trade in towns,"

explained John Effingham.

 

"Yes, sir, the traffic in cities. I never come this way, without

casting an eye about me, in order to see if there is any thing to be

done that is useful; and I confess that several available

opportunities have offered, if one had capital. Milk is a good

business."

 

"_Le lait!_" exclaimed Mademoiselle Viefville, involuntarily.

 

"Yes, ma'am, for ladies as well as gentlemen. Sweet potatoes I have

heard well spoken of, and peaches are really making some rich men's

fortunes."

 

"All of which are honester and better occupations than the traffic in

cities, that you have mentioned," quietly observed Mr. Effingham.

 

Aristabulus looked up in a little surprise, for with him every thing

was eligible that returned a good profit, and all things honest that

the law did not actually punish. Perceiving, however, that the

company was disposed to listen, and having, by this time, recovered

the lost ground, in the way of food, he cheerfully resumed his theme.

 

"Many families have left Otsego, this and the last summer, Mr.

Effingham, as emigrants for the west. The fever has spread far and

wide."

 

"The fever! Is _old_ Otsego," for so its inhabitants loved to call a

county of half a century's existence, it being venerable by

comparison, "is _old_ Otsego losing its well established character

for salubrity?"

 

"I do not allude to an animal fever, but to the western fever."

 

"_Ce pays de l'ouest, est-il bien malsain_?" whispered Mademoiselle

Viefville.

 

"_Apparemment, Mademoiselle, sur plusieurs rapports."_

 

"The western fever has seized old and young, and it has carried off

many active families from our part of the world," continued

Aristabulus, who did not understand the little aside just mentioned,

and who, of course, did not heed it; "most of the counties adjoining

our own have lost a considerable portion of their population."

 

"And they who have gone, do they belong to the permanent families, or

are they merely the floating inhabitants?" inquired Mr. Effingham.

 

"Most of them belong to the regular movers."

 

"Movers!" again exclaimed Sir George--"is there any material part of

your population who actually deserve this name?"

 

"As much so as the man who shoes a horse ought to be called a smith,

or the man who frames a house a carpenter," answered John Effingham.

 

"To be sure," continued Mr. Bragg, "we have a pretty considerable

leaven of them in our political dough, as well as in our active

business. I believe, Sir George, that in England, men are tolerably

stationary."

 

"We love to continue for generations on the same spot. We love the

tree that our forefathers planted, the roof that they built, the

fire-side by which they sat, the sods that cover their remains."

 

"Very poetical, and I dare say there are situations in life, in which

such feelings come in without much effort. It must be a great check

to business operations, however, in your part of the world, sir!"

 

"Business operations!--what is business, as you term it, sir, to the

affections, to the recollections of ancestry, and to the solemn

feelings connected with history and tradition?"

 

"Why, sir, in the way of history, one meets with but few incumbrances

in this country, but he may do very much as interest dictates, so far

as that is concerned, at least. A nation is much to be pitied that is

weighed down by the past, in this manner, since its industry and

enterprize are constantly impeded by obstacles that grow out of its

recollections. America may, indeed, be termed a happy and a free

country, Mr. John Effingham, in this, as well as in all other

things!"

 

Sir George Templemore was too well-bred to utter all he felt at that

moment, as it would unavoidably wound the feelings of his hosts, but

he was rewarded for his forbearance by intelligent smiles from Eve

and Grace, the latter of whom the young baronet fancied, just at that

moment, was quite as beautiful as her cousin, and if less finished in

manners, she had the most interesting _naivete_.

 

"I have been told that most old nations have to struggle with

difficulties that we escape," returned John Effingham, "though I

confess this is a superiority on our part, that never before

presented itself to my mind."

 

"The political economists, and even the geographers have overlooked

it, but practical men see and feel its advantages, every hour in the

day. I have been