The puzzled expression of the old Judge completed the comedy of the occasion—we all laughed in a perfectly absurd and foolish way—and the rest of the evening passed in the most cheerful manner imaginable.
When I bade my friends good evening, I knew something I had not known before:—namely, that Mohun the woman-hater, had renewed his “friendly relations” with Miss Georgia Conway, at her home in Dinwiddie.
Exchanging a pressure of the hand with my host and his charming daughters, I bade them good evening, and returned homeward. As I went along, I thought of the happy circle I had left; and again I could not refrain from drawing the comparison between Judge Conway and Mr. Blocque.
At the fine house of the blockade-runner—champagne, rich viands, wax-lights, gold and silver, and profuse luxury.
At the poor lodgings of the great statesman,—a cup of tea and cold bread; stately courtesy from my host, charming smiles from his beautiful daughters, clad in calico, with worn-out shoes—and above the simple happy group, the crossed swords of the brave youths who had fallen at Manassas!
VIII. — MR. X——-.
It was past ten in the evening when I left Judge Conway. But I felt no disposition to retire; and determined to pay a visit to a singular character of my acquaintance.
The name of this gentleman was Mr. X——-.