"O, sir! we has no barber, nor Bagdab segars neither; but we has plenty of the real Baltimores,—real good ones, too,—as I knows very well, for I smokes the old sodgers what the gentlemen throws on the bar-room floor."
"It is one of the most amusing scenes imaginable," said Victor Chevillere to Augustus Lamar, as they sat witnessing this scene, "when the waiter and the master pro tempore are both fools. The fawning, bowing, cringing waiter, with his big lips upon the qui vive, his head and shoulders constantly in motion, and rubbing his hands one over the other after the most approved fashion of the men of business. In such a case as that which we have just witnessed, where puppyism comes in contact with the kindred monkey-tricks of the waiter, I can enjoy it. But when it happens, as I have more than once seen, that the waiter is a manly, sensible, and dignified old negro of the loftier sort, such as old Cato,—then you can soon detect the curl of contempt upon his lip,—and he is not long thereafter in selecting the real gentlemen of the party,—always choosing to wait most upon those who least demand it."
"I would bet my horse Talleyrand against an old field scrub, that that fellow is a Yankee," answered Lamar.
"He may be a Yankee," continued Victor Chevillere, "but you have travelled too much and reflected too long upon the nature of man, to ascribe every thing disgusting to a Yankee origin. For my part, I make the character of every man I meet in some measure my study during my travels, and as we have agreed to exchange opinions upon men and things, I will tell you freely what I think of that fellow who has just retreated from our laughter. I have found it not at all uncommon, to see the most undisguised hatred arise between two such persons as he of the stage-coach,—the one from the north, and the other from the south,—when in truth, the actuating impulse was precisely the same in both, but had taken a different direction, and was differently developed by different exciting causes.
"The puppyism of Charleston and that of Boston are only different shades of the same character, yet these kindred spirits can in nowise tolerate each other. As is universally the case, those are most intolerant to others who have most need of forgiveness themselves. The mutual jealousy of the north and south is a decided evidence of littleness in both regions, and ample cause for shame to the educated gentlemen of all parties of this happy country. If pecuniary interest had not been mixed up with this provincial rivalry, the feeling could easily have been so held up to the broad light of intelligence, as to be a fertile source of amusement, and furnish many a subject for comedy and farce in after-times."
This specimen was by no means the only one among the arrivals by the stage-coach. Every waiter in the house was pressed into the service of these coxcombs,—some smoked,—some swaggered through the private rooms,—others adjusted their frizzled locks at the mirrors with brushes carried for the purpose,—and all together created a vast commotion in the quiet country inn.
As our two young southerns sat in the long piazza, eying these stage-coach travellers and waiting for breakfast, the same equipage which they had passed on the road, and containing our northern party, drew up to the door.
Not many minutes had elapsed before a black servant stood in the entry between the double suite of apartments, and briskly swung a small bell to and fro, which seemed to announce breakfast, from the precipitate haste with which the gentlemen of the stage-coach found their way into the long breakfasting-hall of the establishment. Our southerns followed their example, but more quietly, and by the invitation of the host. At the upper end of the table stood the hostess, who, like most of her kind in America, was the wife of a wealthy landholder and farmer, as well as tavern-keeper. She was a genteel and modest-looking woman, and did the honours of the table like a lady at her own hospitable board, and among selected guests. It is owing to a mistake in the character of the host and hostess, that so many foreigners give and take offence at these establishments. They often contumaciously demand as a right, what would have been offered to them in all courtesy after the established usages of the country.
On the right of the hostess sat the youthful lady who had spent such an unhappy night at the ferry,—in the hearing of Victor Chevillere,—and whom they had passed on the road. She was still so enveloped in her travelling dress and veil as to be but partially seen. On the same side, unfortunately, as he no doubt thought, sat Chevillere with Lamar. The grave-looking old gentleman, the companion of the youthful lady mentioned, sat immediately opposite to her. The gentlemen of extreme ton (as they wished to be thought), were ranged along the table, already mangling the dishes, cracking and replacing the eggs, and apparently much dissatisfied with the number of seconds they had remained in heated water. Nor were they long in striking up a conversation, as loud and full of slang as their previous displays had been. During this unseemly and boisterous conduct, some more tender chord seemed to be touched within the bosom of the lovely young female, than would have been supposed from the character of the assailants. Victor Chevillere turned his head in that direction, and saw that her face had become more deadly pale; at the same moment he heard her say, in an under-tone, to the old gentleman her companion, "My dear sir, assist me from this room,—my head grows dizzy, and I feel a deathlike sickness."
Chevillere was upon his feet in an instant, and assisted the lady to rise; by this time, the old gentleman having taken her other arm, they carried rather than led her into one of the adjoining apartments, where, after depositing their beautiful burden upon a sofa, Chevillere left her to the care of the hostess, who had followed, and returned to the breakfast-table.