“Why, gentlemen, listen to me in this particular. If”—
“Your oysters are getting cold, George,” interrupted a blood at his left, rather facetiously.
“I claim the respect due a gentleman, sir! A South Carolinian will transgress no rules of etiquette,” said George, grasping his tumbler in a passionate manner and smashing it upon the marble slab, causing a sudden emeute in the camp. “Order! order! order!” was sounded from every tongue. “You mustn't be afeard, Captain,” said one of the party. “This is perfectly South Carolinian-just the oscillating of the champagne; it won't last long.”
The noise was more loud than ordinary, and brought a score of people around to hear the trouble. George had got in high dudgeon, and it took several persons to hold him, while the remainder, not excepting the Captain, were engaged in a pacification. The scene was very extravagant in folly; and through the kind interposition of friends, the matter was settled to the honorable satisfaction of both parties-the question was called for-the Captain called for a legitimate, rubbed his eyes, and little George proceeded. “If my friend Thomas Y. Simmons, Jr., had been elected to the legislature he'd altered the position of things in South Carolina. All these corruptions would have been exposed, and the disparity of party would have dwindled into obscurity. Every true Carolinian voted for him to the hilt, but how was he defeated? Gentlemen, can you answer? it will be a favor highly gratifying to me to hear your opinions!” A voice answered, “Because he wasn't big enough!” “No, sir,” said George, “it was because there was intrigue in the party, and the Yankee influence went to put him down. The world'll hear from him yet. He's my particular friend, and will stand in the halls of Congress as great a statesman as ever lisped a political sentiment.”
George's account of his particular friend, Thomas Y. S—, Jr., was so extravagant, and not having heard of him before, the Captain's curiosity was aroused to know who he was and where he resided. We will not tax the reader with George's wonderful memoir of his friend, but merely inform him that “little Tommy Simmons,” as he is usually styled in Charleston, is an exact pattern of Master George, with the exception of his mouth, which is straight and regular; and if we may be allowed to condescend to the extremes, we should say that the cordwainer had done more for his heels. Otherwise, no daguerreotype could give a counterpart more correct. Tommy is a very small member of the Charleston bar, who, though he can seldom be seen when the court is crowded, makes a great deal of noise without displaying power of elucidation or legal abilities, yet always acquitting himself cleverly. Tommy was little George in two particulars-he had studied law, and was a great secessionist; and if George had never practised, it was only from inclination, which he asserted arose from a humane feeling which he never could overcome-that he never wished to oppress anybody. But the greatest contrast that the reader can picture to himself between mental and physical objects existed between Tommy's aspirations and the physical man. His mind was big enough, and so was his self-confidence, to have led the Assyrian and Chaldean army against the Hebrews. To this end, and to further the formula of his statesmanship, no sooner was he twenty-one, and the corner just turned, than he sounded his war-trumpet-secession or death!—mounted the rostrum and “stump'd it,” to sound the goodness and greatness of South Carolina, and total annihilation to all unbelievers in nullification. It was like Jonah and the whale, except the swallowing, which spunky Tommy promised should be his office, if the Federal Government didn't toe the mark. Yes, Tommy was a candidate for the legislature, and for the Southern Congress, (which latter was exclusively chivalrous;) and the reader must not be surprised when we tell him that he lacked but a few votes of being elected to the former. Such was the voice of the Charleston district.
Supper had been discussed down to the fragments, and all expressed their satisfaction of the quantity and declined any more; but George called on another bottle of champagne, and insisted that the party should take a parting glass. The servant had begun to extinguish the lights-a sure sign that the success of the bar was ended for the night. George reprimanded the negro-the sparkling beverage was brought, glasses filled up, touched, and drunk with the standing toast of South Carolina. A motion to adjourn was made and seconded, and the party, feeling satisfied with their evening's recreation, moved off accordingly.
CHAPTER VIII. A FEW POINTS OF THE LAW.
IN Charleston, such an adjournment at a bar-room or an eating-house, when parties are enjoying what is termed a “pleasant occasion,” does not mean an adjournment to the domestic fireside; nor are the distinctions between married and single men regarded, though domestic attachments may be considered as governing the thoughts and feelings. The practical definition of such an adjournment means to some place where beauty secludes itself to waste in shame.
The party descended into the lower bar-room, which, though rather thinned, presented a picture of characters stimulated to the tottering point. A motion had been made and strongly seconded to visit the voluptuous house of a certain lady, which it is considered a stranger has not seen Charleston until he has visited. The Captain remonstrated against this, assuring the party that he must go to the ship and needed rest. Again and again they insisted, setting forth the charms and beauty of the denizens, but he as often declined in the most positive manner. Unable to move him in his resolution, one by one began to give him a hearty shake of the hand and bid him good-night, leaving little Master George to the exclusive honor of seeing him home.