The Last of the Foresters Part 55

"And presumptuous!"

"Why?"

"Because, sir--"

"I call you 'my own' in advance? Eh?"

"Yes, sir!"

f.a.n.n.y had uttered the words without reflection--intending them as a reply to Mr. Ralph's sentence, the words "in advance," being omitted therefrom. Everybody saw her mistake at once, and a shout of laughter greeted the reply.

Ralph a.s.sumed a close and cautious expression, and said:

"Well--I will be more careful in future. The fact is, that people who are _to be_ married, should be as chary of their endearments, in public, as those who _are_ married."

General laughter and a.s.sent--except from f.a.n.n.y, who was blushing.

"Nothing is more disagreeable," continued Ralph, philosophically, "than these public evidences of affection; it is positively shocking to see and hear two married people exchanging their 'dears' and 'dearests,' 'loves' and 'darlings'--especially to bachelors; it is really insulting! Therefore, it is equally in bad taste with those who _are to be_ married;--logically, consequently, and in the third place--and lastly--it is not proper, between myself and you, my f.a.n.n.y--hum--Miss f.a.n.n.y!"

This syllogistic discourse was received by f.a.n.n.y with a mixture of blushes and satirical curls of the lip. "Hum!" more than once issued from her lips; and this expression always signified with the young lady in question--"indeed!"--"really!"--"you think that's mighty fine!"--or some other phrase indicative of scorn and defiance.

On the present occasion, after uttering a number of these "hums!"

f.a.n.n.y embodied her feelings in words, and replied:

"I think, Ralph, you are the most impudent gentleman I have ever known, and you wrong me. I wonder how you got such bad manners; at Williamsburg, I reckon. Hum! If you wait until _I_ marry you--!"

"I shall never repent the delay?" asked Ralph--"is that what you mean?

Well, I don't believe I shall. But a truce to jesting, my charming cousin. You spoke of Williamsburg, and my deterioration of manners, did you not?"

"Yes!"

"I can prove that I have not deteriorated."

"Try, then."

"No, I would have to read all this book, which is full of compliments, f.a.n.n.y; that would take all day. Besides, I am too modest."

"Oh!" laughed f.a.n.n.y, who had recovered her good humor.

"Let us hear, Mr. Ralph," said Redbud, smiling.

"Yes--let us see how the odious, college students write and talk,"

added f.a.n.n.y, laughing.

"Well, I'll select one from each branch," said Ralph: "the friendly, pathetic, poetical, and so forth. Lithe and listen, ladies, all!"

And while the company listened, even down to Longears, who lay at some distance, regarding Ralph with respectful and appreciative attention, as of a critic to whom a MS. is read, and who determines to be as favorable as he can, consistent with his reputation--while they listened, Ralph opened his book and read some verses.

We regret that only a portion of the alb.u.m of Mr. Ralph Ashley has come down to modern times--the rats having devoured a greater part of it, no doubt attracted by the flavor of the composition, or possibly the paste made use of in the binding. We cannot, therefore, present the reader with many of the beautiful tributes to the character of Ralph, recorded in the alb.u.m by his admiring friends.

One of these tributes, especially, was--we are informed by vague tradition--perfectly resplendent for its imagery and diction; contesting seriously, we are a.s.sured, the palm, with Homer, Virgil and our Milton; though unlike bright Patroclus and the peerless Lycidas, the subject of the eulogy had not suffered change when it was penned.

The eulogy in question compared Ralph to Demosthenes, and said that he must go on in his high course, and gripe the palm from Graecia's greatest son; and that from the obscure shades of private life, his devoted Tumles would watch the culmination of his genius, and rejoice to reflect that they had formerly partaken of lambs-wool together in the cla.s.sic shades of William and Mary; with much more to the same effect.

This is lost; but a few of the tributes, read aloud by Mr. Ralph, are here inserted.

The first was poetic and pathetic:

"MY DEAR ASHLEY:

"Reclining in my apartment this evening, and reflecting upon the pleasing scenes through which we have pa.s.sed together--alas! never to be renewed, since you are not going to return--those beautiful words of the Swan of Avon occurred to me:

'To be or not to be--that is the question; Whether 'tis better in this world to bear The slings and arrows of--'

"I don't remember the rest; but the whole of this handsome soliloquy expresses my sentiments, and the sincerity with which,

"My dear Ashley,

"I am yours,

"No names!" cried Ralph; "now for another: Good old Bantam!"

"Oh, Mr. Bantam writes this, does he?" cried f.a.n.n.y.

"Yes, Miss; for which reason I pa.s.s it--no remonstrances!--I am inflexible; here is another:

"DEAR RALPH:

"I need not say how sorry I am to part with you. We have seen a great deal of each other, and I trust that our friendship will continue through after life. The next session will be dull without you--I do not mean to flatter--as you go away. You carry with you the sincere friendship and kindest regards of,

"Dear Ralph, your attached friend,

"I like that very much, Mr. Ralph," said Redbud, smiling.

"You'd like the writer much more, Miss Redbud," said the young man; "really one of the finest fellows that I ever knew. I want him to pay me a visit--I have no other friend like Alfred."

"Oh, Alfred's his name, is it!" cried f.a.n.n.y; "what's the rest? I'll set my cap at him."

"Alfred Nothing, is his name," said Ralph, facetiously; "and I approve of your course. You would be Mrs. n.o.body, you know; but listen--here is the enthusiastic:

"MY DEAR ASHLEY:

"You are destined for great things--it is yours to scale the heights of song, and s.n.a.t.c.h the crown from Ossa's lofty brow. Fulfil your destiny, and make your country happy!"