CHAPTER IV
A WEDDING
There was a very fine noisy Fourth of July, and shortly after that camevacation. The Jaspers were going to Lebanon Springs, and then toSaratoga. Hanny came near to envying Daisy. She and Margaret had tovisit both grandmothers, and go over to Tarrytown, for the Morgans hadinsisted upon it.
Hanny and her father had been reading some of Washington Irving'sstories, beside his famous history. He was abroad now; he had been sentas Minister to the Court of Madrid, that wonderful Spanish city with itsCourt so full of interest and beauty. She had been learning about it inher history. But this old house was not grand, only in its splendid elmsand maples and lindens and tall arbor-vitaes. Wolfert's Roost was almosthidden by them; but you could catch glimpses of its curious roof, fullof quaint corners and projections, and the old-fashioned stone mansionsaid to be modelled after the cocked hat of Peter the Headstrong. Itslow stories were full of nooks and angles. There were roses andhollyhocks like rows of sentinels, and sweet brier clambering about.The little girl thought of it many a time afterward, when it had becomemuch more famous, as Sunnyside. Indeed, she was to sit on the old piazzaoverlooking the river and listen to the pleasant voice that had charmedso many people, and study the drawings of Rip Van Winkle and SleepyHollow, to hear about Katrina Van Tassel, and the churn full of waterthat Fammetie Van Blarcom brought over from Holland because she was surethere could be no water good to drink in the new country.
Already she was coming to have a great interest in people who wrotebooks and stories. It seemed such a wonderful gift.
Dr. Hoffman paid the cousins the compliment of a visit. Afterward therewere mysterious communings between the sisters.
Wedding presents were gifts of real preference and affection in thosedays. A girl had her "setting out" from home, and perhaps some one gaveher an heirloom for her name, or because she was an especial favourite.
"Dr. Hoffman's well-to-do," said Joanna; "and Margaret's folks won't lether go empty-handed. But I'd like to have some of our things go wherethey would be appreciated. We've no one of our very own to leave themto," and Miss Morgan sighed. "Margaret doesn't consider store articlesso much better than those made long ago. Let's each give her a pair oflinen sheets. I've a dozen good ones now, and, land sakes! we sha'n'twear out half our bedding. And my tablecloth of the basket pattern, andtwo towels. And--let me see--that white wool blanket of Aunt Hetty's. Itwas spun and woven in 1800; and the sheep were raised here on the oldfarm. Some peculiar kind they were, with long, soft fleece."
"Well," said Famie, slowly, "there's my snowball tablecloth and twotowels. 'Rastus's wife won't ever care for them with her fine Paristhings. But we won't give away the silver, nor the old pewter flagon,nor the basin and cups. They've the crown mark on them, 1710 for a date.Deary me, they'll outlast us," and she sighed also.
Roseann agreed. Six sheets and pillow-cases, three tablecloths andhalf-a-dozen towels, and two blankets, one spun and woven by their ownmother. The initials and date were marked on them in old-fashionedcross-stitch, which was a little more ornate than regularsampler-stitch.
Aunt Hetty's blanket had been made from the wool of an especial cossetlamb that had lost its mother and been brought up by hand. The littlegirl was very much interested.
"Did it follow her about?" she asked.
"Dear sakes!" and Aunt Famie laughed. "I just guess it did. It grew verytroublesome, I've heard tell, and was quite quality, always wanting tocome into the sitting-room. And it would curl down at Aunt Hetty's feetlike a dog. She saved the wool every year, and spun it, and laid it awayuntil she had enough. But I don't believe it went to school, althoughit could spell one word."
"One word!" cried the little girl, in amaze. "What was that?"
"Why b-a ba, of course. They said it could spell through the wholelesson, and I don't see why not. I've heard lambs make a dozen differentsounds."
The little girl laughed. She was very fond of listening to what AuntFamie did when she was little; and they went to call upon some curiousold people who kept to the Dutch ways and wore the old costume. Some ofthem had wooden clogs for rainy weather. When they talked real Dutch,Hanny found it was quite different from German. They had a picture ofsome old ancestor's house with the windmill in the front yard.
The drives about were beautiful then, and so many places had queer oldlegends. Dr. Hoffman was very much interested, and it seemed to Hanny asif she had strayed over into Holland. She resolved when she went home toask Ben to get her a history of Holland, so she and her father mightread it together. Her mother never had any time.
Margaret was much surprised at her gifts, and thanked the cousins withwarmest gratitude. Even Grandmother Van Kortlandt had hinted "that shewasn't going to save up everything for Haneran." But the elder people inthose days were fond of holding on to their possessions until the verylast.
Uncle David came up for them and took them to White Plains, where theyhad a nice visit; and grandmother selected some articles from her storefor the prospective bride.
Hanny remembered what Cousin Archer had said about the mittens, andasked Uncle David. He found his hook, and, sure enough, it was somethinglike a crochet-needle. He took what the little girls called singlestitch. But he admitted that Hanny's pretty edgings and tidies werequite wonderful.
"I thought the Germans must have brought the knowledge to the country,"she said. "How long have you known it?"
"Oh, since my boyhood," and he gave a smile. "I heard a very old man sayonce that Noah set his sons to work in the Ark making fishing-nets.Perhaps Mrs. Noah set her daughter-in-laws to crocheting, as you callit. Forty days was a pretty long spell of rainy weather, when they hadno books or papers to read, and couldn't go out to work in the garden."
"Didn't they have any books?" Hanny's eyes opened wide.
"All their writing was done on stone tablets, and very little of that."
"I think I wouldn't have liked living then. Books are so splendid. Andyou get to know about so many people. But there was the Bible," and thechild's voice dropped to a reverent tone.
"Still, if Moses wrote the first books, that was a long while after theFlood."
Hanny's vague idea was that the Bible had been created in the beginning,like Adam and Eve.
Cousin Ann and Aunt Eunice were as much in love with the little girl asever, but were tremendously surprised at her stock of knowledge. Itdidn't seem possible that one little girl could know so much. That shecould play tunes on the piano, and repeat ever so many French words,then explain what they meant in English, was a marvel. But the childnever seemed spoiled by the admiration.
They had to come down to Yonkers, for Uncle Faid and Aunt Crete wouldhave been hurt and jealous. Only it did not seem now to Hanny as if shehad ever lived there. The old kitchen, the creek that went purlingalong, bearing fleets of ducks and geese, and the wide old porch lookednatural, but the daily living was so changed! Old black Aunt Mary wasdead. Some of the neighbours had gone away. Cousin Retty had a new baby,a little girl; but she said it was the crossest thing alive, and it didseem to cry a good deal. It couldn't compare with Stephen's baby, whowas always laughing and jolly.
They had to stop at Fordham to see some cousins. When people live acentury or so in one place and intermarry, they get related to a goodmany people. And there was a sweet little grandmother here, who, in hergirlhood, had the same name as the little visitor--Hannah Underhill.There was no Ann in it to be sure. And now her name was Hannah Horton.
There were lots of gay, rollicking cousins. The little girl felt almostafraid of the big boys, and she was used to boys, too.
Her mother had said she might make a visit with the Odell girls. Theyhad grown and changed; and Hanny felt quite as if she were undersized.Mr. Odell had been building a new part to the house; and oh, what alovely garden they had! It made the little girl almost envious.
Margaret left her there for several days. At least, Dr. Hoffman drove upone afternoon and took Margaret home, as Hanny's visit wasn't
nearfinished. They had to talk about their schools and the girls they knew.Polly and Janey wanted to hear about the First Street girls and DaisyJasper, who was getting well, and Nora, who had moved away, and thequaint old ladies in Beach Street.
There was a splendid big cat at the Odell's who liked nothing betterthan being nursed, and two kittens that Hanny never tired of watching,they were so utterly funny in their antics, and seemed to do so muchactual reasoning, as to cause and effect, that it amazed her. And, oh,the beautiful country ways and wild flowers on every hand!
It does not look so now. One wonders where all the people have come fromto fill the rows and rows of houses, and to keep busy about the millsand factories. But then the great city had only about five hundredthousand inhabitants, and did not need to overflow into suburbandistricts.
It seemed strange for the little girl to come home to a city street. Itlooked narrow and bare, with its cobblestones and paved sidewalks. And,oh, what a racket the waggons made! and she was amazed at the crowds ofpeople, as she thought there were then.
But inside everything was homelike and delightful. She was so glad tosee her mother and father and the boys. Ben looked like a young man. Jimwas to go to a preparatory school for a year, and then enter ColumbiaCollege. Mrs. Craven had sold her house, and gone up to Seventh Street,and was to have quite a young ladies' school. Josie Dean had decided tostudy for a teacher. That made her seem quite grown up.
Old Mr. Beekman had died while the little girl was away; and Katschinahad grieved herself to death, and followed her master. Annette had alover, but of course she could not marry in some time. The old farm wasto be sold--at least, streets were to be cut through it, and theoutlying lots sold off. Mrs. Beekman was to keep the down-town house forher part.
And now it was considered that Stephen Underhill had done a grand thingfor himself in marrying Dolly Beekman. Mr. Beekman owned no end of realestate, was indeed much richer than people imagined. The girls wouldeach have a big slice. But Dolly was just as sweet and plain, and asmuch interested in everybody as before. She was so ready to help andadvise Margaret, and go out shopping with her. For was she not verywise and experienced, having been married two whole years!
Dr. Hoffman had bought his house up-town as well. Some people scoutedthe idea that the city could be crowded even in fifty years. But thelong-headed ones reasoned that it must go up, as it could not expand inbreadth, and "down-town" must be given over to business.
Hanny went up to see the new house one Saturday. The front basement wasto be the office, and was being fitted up with some shelves andcabinets. The back basement was the kitchen. There were two largeparlors and a third room, that was the dining-room. And one thinginterested the little girl greatly,--this was the "dumb waiter."
"Of course it can't talk," said she, laughingly. "And it can't hear; butyou can make it obey."
"It can creak and groan when it gets dry for a little oil. And it willbe like a camel if you put too heavy a load on it," returned the Doctor.
"Does the camel groan?"
"Horribly! And he won't stir an inch toward getting up until you lightenhis load."
There was a pretty pantry across the corner, with a basin to wash chinaand silver, so it would not need to go downstairs. Hanny thought shewould like to come sometime and wash the pretty dishes.
Upstairs there were three rooms and a bath, and beautiful closets, andon the third floor three rooms again.
"But what will you do with all of them?" asked Hanny.
Margaret had said the same thing to her lover. And Mrs. Underhill saidit was an awful extravagance to have such a great house for two people.But John Underhill declared Dr. Hoffman had done just the right thing,buying up-town. He would settle himself in a first-class practicepresently, as the well-to-do people kept moving thither.
There had been a good deal of discussion about the wedding. Dr. Hoffmanwanted to take Margaret to Baltimore, where his married sister resided,and an aunt, his mother's sister, who was too feeble to undertake ajourney. They would go on to Washington as well. Wedding journeys werenot imperative, but often taken. An evening party at home seemed toomuch for Mrs. Underhill; and Dolly, being in mourning, could not leadany gaieties.
She cut the Gordian knot, however,--a church wedding, with cards for allthe friends, and a reception at home. They would take the train at sixfrom Jersey City. Mr. Underhill was rather sorry not to have anold-fashioned festivity. But Miss Cynthia said this was just the thing.
So the marriage was at St. Thomas' church at two o'clock. A cousin ofDolly's and a school friend were bridesmaids, though Annette Beekman hadbeen chosen. The bride wore a fine India mull that flowed around herlike a fleecy cloud, Dolly's veil, and orange blossoms, for it was goodluck to be married in something borrowed. The little girl headed theprocession, carrying a basket of flowers, and looked daintily sweet.
The "Home Journal," the society paper of that day, spoke of thebeautiful young couple in quite extravagant terms. Mrs. Underhill saidrather tartly afterward, "That Margaret was well enough looking; but shehad never thought of setting her up for a beauty." Yet down in thedepths of her heart her mother love had a little ache because her lastborn would never be as beautiful. But Mr. Underhill considered they hadnot been praised a bit too much, and sent in a year's subscription tothe paper.
Miss Cynthia was in her glory. She seemed one of the people who nevergrow old, and though a great talker, was seldom sharp or severe.Everybody knew she could get married if she desired to, so she rathergloried in staying single.
Margaret cut her wedding-cake, and the piece with the ring fell toDolly's cousin, who turned scarlet, which brought out a general laugh.There was much wishing of joy, and presently Margaret went upstairs andput on her pretty grey silk with the "drawn" bonnet to match, and thegrey cloth _visite_, looking as handsome as she had in her wedding gown.
They left so many people behind no one had a chance to feel lonesome.There were ever so many relations who were going to stay for a visit,and shop a little. People were given to hospitality in those days. Theconstricted living of flats had not come into existence. And your friendwould have felt insulted to be taken to a restaurant for dinner, insteadof at your own house.
Hanny had quite a girls' tea-party afterward. Martha spread a table forthem upstairs. And the funny thing was, that her father and the boysteased to come, and her mother really had to rush to the rescue. Butthey did let Doctor Joe remain, and they had a delightful time.
Josie and Tudie and Nora told how they would do when they were married.
"Now, Hanny!" Daisy Jasper had not spoken. It was not likely any onewould want to marry a lame girl, and the others were too kind to make ita matter of embarrassment.
"I don't believe I _can_ get married," said Hanny, with sweetseriousness. "I shouldn't like to leave father, and mother will wantsomebody, for the boys will be away."
Daisy stretched out her hand. "We'll just have a good time together,"she rejoined, smilingly. "And if Doctor Joe doesn't get married, we'llwork slippers for him and cigar cases, and if we could learn how, wemight make him a dressing-gown."
"If you will be as good as that, I don't think I will get married. Andwhen I drop in, you can give me a cup of tea, and we'll have the best oftimes. I hope I won't be very queer."
He said it so seriously, they all laughed.
Afterward he declared he was going to take all the girls home. That wasa bachelor's prerogative, and he would begin at once. He took the Deansfirst, then Nora, whom he put in the Bowery stage. Daisy and Hanny spentthat leisure admiring baby Stephen, who had six cunning white teeth andcurly hair, which the little girl doted on.
Daisy told the tea-party over to her aunt and her mother, and was veryhappy. And she felt someway as if she had settled her life, andshouldn't mind it very much. But husbands who were as tender as Dr.Hoffman, and babies like laughing, dimpled Stevie!
Were there some childish tears in her eyes? But the main thing for herwas to get strong and be courageous
, and take her share of the world'sknowledges and beautiful things. She wondered sometimes why the LordJesus, who was so wise and good and pitiful, should have let thismisfortune come upon her, or why, when all the doctors were so inearnest, they could not have made her straight and well. And when peoplesaid, "Oh, what a pity, with that lovely face!" she thought she couldhave borne it better if she had been plainer.
When the great love that thinks for its neighbour imbues us all, weshall cease to make personal comments, and endeavour to bear each othersburdens with silent, tender grace.
Doctor Joe was her comfort and inspiration. No one could ever estimatewhat his kindly interest had done for her. He was so cheerful and fullof fun and sunshine. Elderly women had begun to pet up the young doctor,in spite of his youth.
In fact there were many virtues ascribed to experience in those days;and now we have learned the truth is in the application, that livingthrough a great deal doesn't always bring wisdom.
Grandmother Van Kortlandt and Aunt Katrina had a fine time visitingStephen. They were quite stylish, old-fashioned style, that wore fineEnglish thread-laces with the scent of lavender, and had their silveryhair done up in puffs with side-combs. They were a little precise andformal, and would have been horrified if the children had not said "Yes,ma'am," and "No, ma'am." No free and easy manners for them!
The little girl was quite sure she loved Grandmother Underhill the best.Both called her Haneran, as if they were a little jealous of a fullshare in her name. Grandmother made quite a long visit, for she said,"She might never come again, she was getting rather feeble. She didn'texpect to live to see the little girl married."
Hanny's father declared, "She couldn't be married until she wastwenty-five, just in time to save her from being an old maid."
"But I won't be very old at twenty-five," she replied, smiling out ofher big innocent eyes. "And I thought I wouldn't get married at all."
They _did_ miss Margaret. But the little girl had to study hard, andwait on her mother, and practise her music, and visit. There were somany places clamouring for her.
The boys at Houston Street missed Jim Underhill also, though he oftencame up that way when he could get off, which meant when he did not haveto stay for a recitation. Though they were up to pranks, they were notcruel or malicious. If they could "make fun," and rhyme a fellow's nameridiculously, and ring door-bells now and then, or leave a nicelydone-up parcel on some one's stoop, wrapped and tied and directed,containing a box of ashes, or a brick, they were satisfied. They stillconsidered it fun to have Biddy Brady dance, and Limpy Dick, as theycalled the lame girl, run a race. She hopped along with her hand on herlame knee with surprising rapidity.
A Little Girl of Long Ago; Or, Hannah Ann Page 4