The American Gentleman's Guide to Politeness and Fashion Part 22

"I hope"----began the dove-like murmur of a fair invalid: she ceased, and her dewy eyes told all she would have said.

"G.o.d grant us good news!" said our venerable _compagnon de voyage_, fervently, a shade of anxiety clouding his usually benignant countenance.

"Ladies, excuse me! I beg you to remember that they may not bring anything--let me prepare you for a disappointment!" These words were uttered, with apparent reluctance, by a young man, whose pale face and dark melancholy eyes seemed to lend almost prophetic emphasis to his warning tones.

Nettie ceased to clap her little hands; "Jovial James" looked as grave as his usually rollicking, fun-twinkling eyes permitted; the stately Mary could only look fixedly towards the approaching Arabs, the serenity of our patriarchal friend was more than ever disturbed; sweet Isidore grew marble pale, and leaned heavily back upon the sculptured pillar against which we had secured her camp-seat, and your uncle Hal--well!

he is a "proverbial philosopher," you know!

There we were, amid the solemn magnificence of the ruined palaces and temples of once-mighty Thebes.

Our little party was gathered in front of the great Propylon of the famous Temple of Luxor, whose mysterious grandeur we had come many thousands of miles to behold. Ma.s.sive pillars, covered with minutely-finished picture-writing and mystic hieroglyphics, sufficient for the life-long study of the curious student; enormous architraves, half-buried colossi, far-reaching colonnades, "grand, gloomy and peculiar;" the world-famed Memnon; the grim, tomb-hallowed mountains--all the wonders of the Nile, of _El Uksorein_, of Karnac, surrounded us!

But humiliating reflections upon the mutability of human greatness and human power, the eager speculations of the disciples of Champollion, sarcophagi and sculptured ceilings, and scarabaei and Sesostris, alike sunk into matters of insignificance and indifference when compared with the expectation of _Letters from Home_!

That most amiable and hospitable of Mussulmans, Mustapha Aga, _the traveller's friend_, had engaged the Sheik (heaven spare the mark!) of one of the squalid Arab villages, whose mud walls cl.u.s.ter upon the roofs of the grand halls and porticoes of ancient Thebes--reminding one of _animalculoe_ by comparison--to accompany my servant and one or two of our dusky satellites to a point in the vicinity, to which the American and English consuls at Cairo had engaged to forward our letters, etc.

Our motley band of couriers was now seen advancing along the low bank of the river, and all was eager antic.i.p.ation and impatience.

The ceremony of distribution was speedily accomplished, and an observer of the scene, like our calm, silent host, the kindly Mustapha, might almost read the contents of the different letters of the several members of our little group reflected in the faces of each.

"Jovial James" sunk down at once at the feet of the fair Nettie, who had sacrilegiously seated herself upon the edge of an open sarcophagus, with a lap full of treasures, before which her h.o.a.rded antiques--and she was the most indefatigable _collector_ of our corps--relapsed again into the nothingness from which her admiration had, for a time, redeemed them.

Something very much like a tear glistened in the bright eyes of the frolicksome youth as he murmured, half-unconsciously "Mother," and sunshine and shadow played in quick succession over the mirroring features of the fair girl.

The usually placid Mary Marston fairly turning her back upon us, beat a retreat towards a prostrate column and half-concealed herself among its crumbling fragments; and our sweet, fast-fading flower, for whose comfort each vied with the other, the beautiful Isidore, clasped her triple prizes between her slight palms, and folding them to her meek bosom, lifted her soft eyes toward the heaven that looked alike on Egypt and on her native land, and whispered "_Home!_ Oh, father take me _Home_!"

"Not one word does Frank say about _remittances_--the most important of all subjects!" cried James, with his elbows on his knees, and a half-filled sheet held out before him in both hands. "He is the most provoking fellow!--just look, Nettie, how much blank paper, too, sent all the way from Manhattan Island to Upper Egypt," he added, with a serio-comic tap on the paper.

"Good enough for you!" retorted his frequent tormentor; "you wouldn't write from Rome to him, as I begged you to"----

"But, most amiable Miss _Consolation 'on a monument_, smiling at grief,'

don't you recollect that _you_ favored him with three 'great big'

sheets, crammed, crossed, and kissed"----

"Do go away, James Wilson! you are a regular _squatter_, as they say at home; really, if you are not established on my skirt!" laughed his merry companion, reddening, however, at his skillful sally.

James, well used to repulses, made not even a pretence of removing his quarters; but, tracing with his forefinger in the sand, began to tease his pretty neighbor for news from home, protesting that _men_ were the poorest letter-writers, and that _his_ correspondents in particular, _never said anything_!

But what had become of the thoughtful friend whose warning voice had checked too eager expectation in his companions, whilst

----"thou, oh Hope, with eyes so fair,"

made wild tumult in each eager breast? I marked his face, as he stood apart from the excited group gathered about the bearer of our dispatches. It was almost as immobile and coldly calm as those of the polished colossi around us, save for the burning eyes that seemed actually to devour the several directions that were glanced over, or read aloud by others. His hands, too, were tightly clutched, as though he were thus self-sustained.--Poor fellow! I had frequently noticed his manner before, where the happiness of others arrested attention; it indicated, to me, a serenity like that of the expiring hero who waved his life-draught to another, hiding, with a smile, the outward signs of tortured nature! Almost before the last package was unfolded, he was advancing with rapid strides along the majestic avenue leading from our stand-point towards the ruins of Karnac, and was soon lost to sight amid its ma.s.sive ornaments. How easily might some friendly hand have shed balm upon his sad and solitary spirit, on that memorable day in far-off Nile-Land, when so many hearts were gladdened with the sweet sunlight enkindled by _letters_!--so many faces illumined with smiles reflected from the ever-glowing altars of COUNTRY and HOME!

Sir Walter Scott, as his son-in-law informed me, despite the vast amount of intellectual labor he otherwise imposed upon himself, with as little flinching, apparently, as though his mind were a powerful self-regulating steam-engine, had the habit of _always answering letters on the day of their reception_! Mr. Lockhart told me that, during the researches he made among the private papers of his immortal friend, while preparing materials for his biography, he almost invariably remarked, from the careful notations upon them, that when any delay had occurred in replying to a letter, it arose from the necessity of some previous investigation, or the like. My astonishment upon perusing the long, elaborately-written epistles that Mr. Lockhart subsequently gave to the world, was augmented by my knowledge of this fact, and by my remembrance of the innumerable demands made upon his time by social and public duties. But "we ne'er shall look on his like again!" Well might his pen be styled the wand of the mighty Wizard of the North.

A gentle tap at the library-door interrupted the after-dinner chat of my old friend and myself. A fair young face presented itself in answer to the bidding of my host, and, upon seeing me was quickly withdrawn.

"Come in, my daughter, come--what will you have?"

I rose immediately to withdraw, as the young lady, thus encouraged, somewhat timidly advanced towards her father.

"Pray, do not disturb yourself, Colonel Lunettes," said she; "I only want to speak to pa one moment; don't think of going away, I beg"----

My host, too, interposed to prevent my leaving the room, and I, therefore, took up a book and re-seated myself.

"Excuse me for interrupting you, pa, but may I"--here a whisper, and then so audibly that I could not help overhearing--"do please, dear pa!"

"Well, we'll see about it--when is the concert?" rang out the clear voice of the father.

"But, pa, I ought to answer the note to-night or very early to-morrow morning--it would not be polite to keep Mr. Blakeman"----

"A note, eh?" interrupted the old gentleman, "let me see it--go bring it to me."

I thought I could not be mistaken in the indication of reluctance to obey this direction evinced by the slow step of my usually sprightly-motioned young favorite.

"Come, f.a.n.n.y, come," said her father, when she re-entered, "you have no objection to showing _me_"----

"Oh, no, indeed, pa,--but you are so critical," the young lady began to protest.

"Critical! am I though!" exclaimed the parent, with some vivacity, "perhaps so--at least I judge somewhat, of a man's claims to the acquaintance of my daughter by these things." And, adjusting his spectacles, he opened the note his daughter offered. "Bless my soul!" he cried, at the first glance, "what bright-colored paper, and how many grand flourishes--really, my dear!" There was a brief silence and then the father said mildly, but firmly, "f.a.n.n.y, I prefer that you should not accept this invitation."

"Will you tell me why, pa?"

"Because the writer is not a _gentleman_! No man of taste and refinement would write such a note as this to a lady, with whom he has only the ceremonious acquaintance that this young man has with you. He is evidently _illiterate_, too,--his note is not only inelegantly expressed, but it is mis-spelled"----

"Oh, pa"----

"I a.s.sure you it is so. Your own education is more defective than it should be with the advantages you have had, if you cannot perceive this--read it again, and tell me what word is mis-spelled," said her father, returning the production under discussion to f.a.n.n.y.

The young lady sat down by the lamp to con the task a.s.signed her, and my host said to me--"It is unpardonable, now-a-days, for a young man to be ignorant in such matters as these. When _we_ were young, Hal, the means of acquiring knowledge generally, were limited by circ.u.mstances; but who that wishes, lacks them at present?--Well, my daughter"----

"Yes, pa, I see,--of course it was a mere slip of the pen"----

"A slip of the pen!" retorted the father, "and is that a sufficient excuse? Proper respect will teach a young man of right feelings towards your s.e.x, to take good care that no such carelessness retains a place in his first billet to a lady--it is an _indication of character_, my child! Depend upon it, that the man who writes in this way,--encircling some of his words with a flourish, abbreviating others, mis-spelling, and all upon mottled paper, with a highly _ornate_ border, does not understand himself, and will be guilty of other solecisms in good manners and good taste, that will be very likely to embarra.s.s and shock a young lady accustomed to"----

"The society of _gentlemen of the old school_, like pa and Col.

Lunettes!" exclaimed f.a.n.n.y, in her usual laughing manner, s.n.a.t.c.hing up the condemned missive, and flying out of the room.

In the course of the evening, my old friend and I joined the ladies in the drawing-room.

A merry group around a centre-table, attracted me, and as the fair f.a.n.n.y made a place beside her agreeable little self for me, I was soon settled to my satisfaction in the midst of the fair bevy.

"What are you all so busy about?" I inquired, as I seated myself.

"Oh, criticising!" cried one.