A Little Girl in Old New York Part 24

Josie Dean found out presently who she was. She had come to one of the houses that had the pretty gardens in front. She had been very ill, and she couldn't walk a step. And her name was Daisy Jasper.

Such a beautiful name, and not to be able to run and play! Oh, how pitiful it was!

The little girl had her new spring and summer clothes made. They were very nice, but somehow she did not feel as proud of them as she had last summer. Her father took her to Aunt Nancy's church one Sunday. It was very large and plain and full of people. Aunt Nancy sat pretty well up, but they found her. There seemed a good many old men and women, Hanny thought, but the young people were up in the galleries. She thought the singing was splendid, it really went up with a shout. People sang in earnest then.

When they came out everybody shook hands so cordially. Aunt Nancy waited a little while and then beckoned a tall, kindly looking man, who was about as old as her father, though there was something quite different about him. He shook hands with Sister Archer, and she introduced him. He said he was very glad to see Mr. Underhill among them, and smiled down at the little girl as he took her small hand. She came home quite delighted that she had shaken hands with the mayor. Then one day Steve took her and Ben down to Cliff Street, through the wonderful printing-house, small in comparison to what it is to-day. They met the mayor again and had a nice chat.

The next great thing to Hanny was Margaret's graduation. She had been studying very hard to pa.s.s this year, for she was past eighteen, and she was very successful. Even Joe found time to go down. She wore her pretty white dress, but she had a white sash, and her bodice had been turned in round the neck to make it low, as girls wore them then. Hanny thought her the prettiest girl there. She had an exquisite basket of flowers sent her, beside some lovely bouquets. Annette Beekman graduated too, and all the Beekman family were out in force.

There were some very pretty closing exercises in the little girl's school, and at Houston Street Jim was one of the orators of the day, and distinguished himself in "Marco Bozzaris," one of the great poems of that period.

After that people went hither and thither, and when schools opened and business started up the Presidential campaign was in full blast. There was Clay and Frelinghuysen, Polk and Dallas, and at the last moment the Nationals, a new party, had put up candidates, which was considered bad for the Whigs. Still they shouted and sang with great gusto:

"Hurrah, hurrah, the country's risin'

For Harry Clay and Frelinghuysen!"

The Democrats, Loco-Focos, as they were often called in derision, were very sure of their victory. So were the Whigs. The other party did not really expect success. There were parades of some kind nearly every night. Even the boys turned out and marched up and down with fife and drum. There was no end of spirited campaign songs, and rhymes of every degree. The Loco Foco Club at school used to sing:

"Oh, poor old Harry Clay!

Oh, poor old Harry Clay!

You never can be President For Polk stands in the way."

Nora Whitney used to rock in the big chair with kitty in her arms, and this was her version:

"Oh, poor old p.u.s.s.y gray!

Oh, poor old p.u.s.s.y gray!

You never can be President For Polk stands in the way."

This didn't tease the little girl nearly so much, for she knew no matter how sweet and lovely and good a cat might be, it could only aspire to that honor in catland. She did so hate to hear Mr. Clay called old and poor when he was neither. To her he was brave Harry of the West, the hero of battle-fields.

Jim had a rather hard time as well. He thought, with a boy's loyalty, his people must be right. But there was Lily, who, with all _her_ people, was a rabid Democrat. He quite made up his mind he wouldn't keep in with her, but the two girls he liked next best had Democratic affiliations also.

Then the Whigs had a grand procession. Perhaps it would have been the part of wisdom to wait until the victory was a.s.sured, but the leaders thought it best to arouse enthusiasm to the highest pitch.

Stephen had joined with some friends and hired a window down Broadway.

The little girl thought it a very magnificent display. Such bands of strikingly dressed men marching to inspiriting music, their torches flaring about in vivid rays, such carriage loads, such wagons representing different industries, and there was the grand Ship of State, drawn by white horses, four abreast, and gayly attired, in which Henry Clay was to sail successfully into the White House. After that imposing display the little girl had no fear at all. Jim was very toploftical to Miss Lily for several days.

Then came the fatal day. There were no telegraphs to flash the news all over the country before midnight. A small one connected Baltimore and Washington, but long distance was considered chimerical.

So they had to wait and wait. Fortunes varied. At last reliable accounts came, and Polk had stood in the way, or perhaps Mr. Binney, the third candidate, had taken too many votes. Anyhow, the day was lost to brave Harry of the West.

The little girl was bitterly disappointed. She would have liked all the family to tie a black c.r.a.pe around their arms, as Joe had once when he went to a great doctor's funeral. Dele teased her a good deal, and Nora sang:

"Hurrah, old p.u.s.s.y gray!

Hurrah, old p.u.s.s.y gray!

We've got the President and all, And Polk has won the day."

Then the Democrats had _their_ grand procession. The houses were illuminated, the streets were full of shouting children. Even the boys had a small brigade that marched up and down the street. And oh, grief, Jim marched with them!

"I wouldn't be such a turn-coat!" declared the little girl angrily. "I'm ashamed of you, James Underhill. I shall always feel as if you wasn't my brother any more."

"Sho!" returned Jim. "Half the boys turning out have Whig fathers! There wouldn't have been enough for any sort of procession without us. And they promised to cry quits if we would turn out. It don't mean anything but fun!"

She took her trouble to her father. "You are sorry we have been beaten?"

she said excitedly.

"Yes, p.u.s.s.y, very sorry. I still think we shall be sorry that Clay isn't President."

"I'm sorry all the time. And when he was so good and splendid, why didn't they put him in?"

"Well, a great many people think Mr. Polk just as splendid."

"Oh, the Democrats!" she commented disdainfully.

"More than half the votes of the country went against our Harry of the West. One side always has to be beaten. It's hard not to belong to the winning side. But we won four years ago, and we did a big lot of crowing, I remember. We shouted ourselves hoa.r.s.e over the announcement that:

'Tippecanoe and Tyler too!

Were bound to rule the country through.'

We drove our enemies out of sight and erected Log Cabins on their ruins.

We had a grand, good time. And then our brave and loyal Tippecanoe died, and some of us have been rather disappointed in Mr. Tyler. We will all hope for the best. There are a good many excellent men on both sides. I guess the country will come out all right."

There really were tears in her eyes.

"You see, my little girl, we must make up our minds to occasional defeat, especially when we go into politics," and there was the shrewd laughing twinkle in his eye. "It is supposed to be better for the country to have the parties about evenly divided. They stand more on their good behavior. And we will hope for better luck next time."

"But _you_ couldn't turn round and be a Democrat, could you?" she asked, with a sad entreaty.

"No, dear," he replied gravely.

"I'm glad we have Mayor Harper left. Can the new President put him out?"

"No, my dear."

They kissed each other in half-sorrowful consolation. But alas! next year even Mayor Harper had to go out.

CHAPTER XII

A REAL PARTY

The little girl would have felt a great deal better if Lily Ludlow had not been on the other side. Lily was growing into a very pretty girl.

They were wearing pantalets shorter now, and she noticed that Lily wore hers very short. Then ap.r.o.ns were made without bibs or shoulder bands, and had ruffles on the bottom. They were beginning to go farther around, almost like another skirt. Lily had two white ones. She walked up and down the block with a very grand air. Then Miss Chrissy met Margaret at the house of a mutual acquaintance, and invited her very cordially to call on her, and Margaret did the same. Miss Chrissy lost no time, but came card-case in hand, and made herself very agreeable.

"Would you like to go down and call on Jim's girl?" Margaret asked smilingly. Ben always called her that.