Since leaving Isaac in the preceding chapter, after his important announcement, as therein recorded, he had been by no means idle. The two days immediately following had been spent by him in riding post-haste through the surrounding country, to inform his friends that he was on the point of becoming a married man, and require their presence at the appointed hour and place of ceremony. The rest of the time (Sunday of course exempted) had been carefully husbanded by him in making all due preparation; and he now stood before his expected guests with the air one, to use a common phrase, who has not been caught napping. For each, as they rode up, he had a friendly salutation and familiar word; and inviting them to dismount and enter, until the whole number should be arrived, he led away and secured their horses to the neighboring trees.
In due time the last couple made their appearance; and having partaken of some refreshment, which was highly recommended and presented by Mrs. Younker herself—whose tongue, by the way, had seen no rest for at least two hours—the whole party, in gleeful spirits, prepared to mount and set forth on their journey. Even Algernon, as he assisted the graceful Ella into her saddle, and then sprung lightly himself upon the back of a high mettled, beautiful steed by her side, could not avoid exhibiting a look of cheerfulness, almost gaiety, in striking contrast to his habitual gloom. And this too produced a like effect upon Ella; who, mounted upon a fine spirited, noble animal, and displaying all the ease and grace of an accomplished rider, with her flushed cheek and sparkling eyes, seemed the personification of loveliness. Her dress was exceedingly neat, of the fashion and quality worn in the east—being one she had brought with her on her removal hither. A neat hood, to which was attached a green veil, now thrown carelessly back and floating down behind, covered her head and partially concealed a profusion of beautiful ringlets.
The company at length being all mounted, Isaac took it upon himself to lead the way; for the reason, as he alleged, that having traveled the ground oftener than either of the others, he of course knew the best and nearest path to the abode of Peggy Wilson. Algernon as groomsman rode next with Ella; followed in turn by the father and mother of the groom; and then in double file by the whole company—talking, laughing and full of glee—to the number of some fifteen couples. Turning the corner of the house, they forded the streamlet previously mentioned, crossed the valley, and ascended by a narrow horse-path the opposite hill, leaving the canebrake some distance away to the left.
In those days a road—or at least such a highway as we of the present so denominate—was a something unknown; a few horse-paths, so termed, traversing the country in various directions—narrow, oftentimes obstructed, and sometimes dangerous. Over one of this latter class, as before said, our wedding party now wended their way, in high spirits; sometimes riding at a brisk trot or gallop, where their course lay open and clear, sometimes walking their horses very slow, in single file, where the path, winding across craggy bluffs, among rocks and trees, became very narrow and unsafe. Twice, on this latter account, did the gentlemen of the company dismount and lead the horses of their partners for some considerable distance past the stony and dangerous defile, by which means all accidents were avoided. When they had reached within a mile of their destination, Isaac drew rein and all came to a halt. Turning upon his saddle, with the air of a commander of some important expedition, he sang out in a loud, shrill voice;
"Well, boys and gals, here we ar—this here's the spot—who's agoing to run for the bottle?"
"Whoop! yaho! give way thar!" was the answer from a couple of voices in the rear; and at the same instant, two young men, separating from their partners, came bounding forward, on two blood horses, at break-neck speed.
"Stop!" thundered Isaac, as they came tearing up to where he was sitting astride his beast; and obedient to his command, the two individuals in question reined in their impatient steeds, hard abreast, close by his side. "Well, ef you arn't a couple o' beauties, then jest put it down that I don't know," continued Isaac, eying them coolly from head to heel, with a quizzical, comical look. "You'd both on ye average two decent looking fellars—for whar Seth Stokes is too long, Sam Switcher arn't long enough; and whar Sam Switcher's got too much, Seth Stokes han't got nothing."
A roar of laughter, in which both Seth and Sam joined, followed Isaac's closing remarks; for besides partaking of the ludicrous, none could deny that his description was correct. The two worthies in question were certainly two very singular looking beings to be brought together for a race, and presented a most laughable appearance. The one bearing the poetical appellation of Seth Stokes, was long, thin and bony, with sharp features, and legs that reminded one of a carpenter's compass; while his companion, Sam Switcher, was round-favored, short in limbs and stature, and fat almost to corpulency—thus forming a contrast to the other of the most striking kind.
As soon as the laugh at their expense had subsided, Isaac again sang out: "Squar your hosses' heads thar—get ready, boys—now clippet, and don't keep us long waiting the bottle! for I reckon as how some on us is gitting dry. Yehep! yahoa!" and ere the sound of his voice had died away, down came the switches, accompanied by a terrible yell, and off went horses and bottle-riders—over stumps, logs and rocks—past trees and brush, and whatever obstacle might lie in their course—with a speed that threatened them with death at every moment; while the others remained quietly seated on their ponies, enjoying the sport, and sometimes shouting after them such words of encouragement as, "Go it, Seth!" "Up to him, Sammy!" "Pull up, legs!" "Jump it, fatty!" so long as the racers were in sight.
This race for the bottle, as it was called, was a peculiar feature for displaying the horsemanship and hardy recklessness of the early settlers; as a more dangerous one, to both horse and rider, could not well be imagined. That the reader may form a clear conception of what it was in reality—and also to destroy the idea if any such may have been formed, that it existed only in our imagination—we shall take the liberty of giving a short extract from the author already quoted. In speaking of the foregoing, he says: