"May it not be," asked Mr. Hubbard, "that monarchies, up to the present day, have been much more frequent than republics?"
"Perhaps so," I answered; "yet it is very strange that we find no poet of mark actually springing from a pure republic. Where is the Swiss poet? although every accessory of country, history, climate, and natural phenomena seems to render the very air redolent of poetry." Bessy Davenport sprang up from the table, shaking her head at me, with a laugh, and saying,--
"I abominate your theory. You are worse than an abolitionist; and if you preach such doctrines here, we will have you tried for high treason." As soon as she was gone, and Mr. Alsiger had trotted home on his pony, which was brought up shortly afterwards, Mr. Hubbard, Mr. Thornton, and myself fell into secret conclave, and debated what was next to be done.
"I think," said my host, "the best thing we can do, before the day becomes too hot, will be to ride over to Beavors, take a look at the plantation, see the house, which is vacant just now, and, after having got some dinner at the little village hard by, return in the evening by my worthy and respected cousin's house, just to let him know that we have an eye upon his motions. I dare say some of the girls will accompany us on horseback; and their presence will make our visitation of the old place less formal and less business-like. There are two or three things worth seeing by the way; and we may as well spend the day after this fashion as any other."
"You will find no dinner there that you can eat," said Mr. Hubbard.
"Leave that to me--leave that to me," returned Mr. Thornton, with a nod of his head. "I will cater for you; and if you do not like so long a ride, you can come in the carriage."
"Perhaps that will be better," said Mr. Hubbard; "and, I suppose, it would be as well to have me with you, in case of your needing legal advice." Thus was it soon settled; and while Mr. Thornton went to order horses and carriages, and a great many things besides, I mounted to my own room to make some change in my dress, and to give my good friend Zed a hearty scolding for babbling about my affairs in a strange house. I might as well have left it alone; for though he promised and vowed all manner of things, and assured me, with many a grin, that he had not an idea he was doing any harm in what he had said, I have since found that the propensity to gossip is too strong in the negro composition to be curbed by any reasoning or by any fear. Indeed, I am inclined to believe it is part and parcel of the original sin; for certainly, if Eve had not got gossiping with the serpent, she would not have made such a fool of herself as she did.
[CHAPTER VII.]
When I came down from my room, I found Miss Thornton and Miss Davenport already in riding costume, Mr. Byles preparing to accompany us, and Mrs. Thornton and Mr. Hubbard settling that they would drive over in the carriage, tête-à-tête; while before the door were a number of horses of various descriptions, some bearing ladies' saddles, and some equipped for men. Behind the train was a good large, roomy vehicle, of a very comfortable but old-fashioned form, into which sundry servants of various hues were placing those baskets and packages by the agency of which, I doubted not, Mr. Thornton intended to insure a comfortable dinner wherever we might stop. Having seated the ladies, the gentlemen were soon in the saddle; and away we went at full speed, as if there had been a fox before us, across the little bridge, and up the road towards the highway. As long as we had anything like green herbs beneath our feet, this was all very well; but when we came upon the public road, the dust soon compelled us to slacken our pace and proceed more leisurely. The party fell speedily into what I suppose was its natural arrangement: Mr. Byles riding beside Miss Thornton; I accompanying her fair cousin; and Mr. Thornton himself falling behind to give some directions to his eldest boy, who accompanied us on a beautiful dark chestnut pony--which, by the way, had an awkward habit of throwing out her hoofs at anything which might come behind her, and was consequently quite as well in the rear. Miss Davenport, as we went, was as gay as a lark; and, in the spirit of light badinage with which she had begun the day, contrived to tease me very heartily all the way that we went. I found that she was exceedingly well read, especially in modern history, and she managed to twist and turn a great many of the acts and deeds of Old England in such a manner as more than once to put me on the defensive somewhat warmly; and then she would laugh till her eyes almost ran over, and declare that Englishmen never could bear to hear a word said against their country. Positively, I was not certain, in the end, whether I did not hate her mortally. On the whole, however, I was not sorry to hear what Americans really thought of many of our doings; and I doubted not in the least that Miss Davenport's views were but the reflex of those most generally entertained. In them there was much of prejudice undoubtedly; many of her facts were wrong; many of the inferences unjust; and, almost always, the motives were, I may say, ridiculously distorted. Purposes and objects which never entered into the head of any one Briton from the Land's End to John O'Groat's House, were ascribed to the whole nation as coolly and positively as if they were demonstrated certainties. Still, her free-spoken comments gave me an insight into the feelings with which a great part of the American people regard my countrymen, and which is politely concealed from us in ordinary society. The scenery through which we passed was rather flat and monotonous, and the forest in general shut out all distant prospects. Nothing of any very great interest struck me by the way, except, indeed, the profusion and beautiful variety of the wild flowers, still in bloom, and the occasional gush of some delicious odour from the woods as we rode along. Birds of gorgeous plumage, too, were flitting amongst the trees; but, oh! how I longed for the delightful spring sounds of England--the voice of the thrush, the blackbird, and the lark. I would have given all the gay feathers of the birds in sight for even one song of the robin. There was a bird, indeed, which did, now and then, utter one or two solitary notes, as if he would fain have sung if he had known how; and Miss Davenport praised his voice as if he had been a nightingale.
"You do not call that singing?" I said; and when I tried to give her some idea of the music of our woods, she declared it was all prejudice, and that I was determined not to like anything in America. I had an account to settle with her, however, and I resolved not to lose any opportunity. Shortly after, a small bird of rather graceful form flew from one branch of a tree to another, mewing like a cat as it went, and I quietly asked her if that was a singing bird also.