We were thus settled in our suburban residence, with which, by the way, we were not quite content. It was too small, too exposed to the rays of the sun, the dust of the road and the eyes of the passengers; it was too new also, and the shrubs and flowers had not had time to grow, and then—we had been disappointed of Willow Cottage.
In addition to these drawbacks, and even worse than these, was the fact that we were annoyed all day long and every day by the troops of visitors, on foot and on horseback, in sulkies and buggies, all bound for the Willow Cottage.
And, worst of all, we were disturbed all night by the noisy passage of these revelers returning home.
On Sundays and Sunday nights this was insufferable. It seemed as if ten times as many revelers went out in the day and came back ten times as much intoxicated and as noisy in the night! Our poor old Cassandra vowed that when we changed the farm for the city house it was bad enough, but when we changed the city house for the suburban cottage, "we jest did it—jumped right out'n de fryin' pan inter de fire!"
However, a terrible event soon occurred at the Willow Cottage that crowded everything else out of our heads.
It was the night of the Fourth of July. All day long crowd after crowd had passed our house on their way out there. From early in the morning until late at night the road was kept clouded with the dust, that settled upon everything in and around our house. We were glad when, late at night, the revelry seemed to cease, and we were permitted to be at peace.
We retired, and, exhausted by the exciting annoyances of the day, I fell asleep. I know not how long I had slept, when I was suddenly aroused by the noise of many persons hurrying past the house in apparently a state of great excitement. In another moment I perceived that all the family had been aroused as well as myself. They hurried into my room, which was the front chamber of the second floor, and thus from a secure point commanded the street. We all crowded to the two windows, left the candles unlighted that we might not be seen, and remained as mute as mice that we might not be heard.
The stars were very bright, and we could distinctly see the hurrying crowd in the road below. Some were running in the direction of the Willow Cottage, while others were hastening thence. These opposite parties, meeting, would exchange a few vehement words and gestures, and then speed upon their several ways.
At last a man, running against another immediately under the window, inquired:
"For Heaven's sake, what is the matter at the Willow Cottage?"