A Little Girl in Old New York by Amanda Minnie Douglas (epub ebook reader txt) 📖

/> "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 pussy gray!
Oh, poor old pussy 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 assured, 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 crape 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 pussy gray!
Hurrah, old pussy 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, pussy, 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 hoarse 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 aprons 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.

"No," replied Hanny, with much dignity. "I don't like her. She called me 'queer' the first time she saw me, and I shouldn't think of calling Nora queer, no matter how she looked. If Jim wants her he may have her, but I _do_ hope they won't live in New York."

The temper was so unusual and so funny that Margaret let it go without a word.

Everything came back to its normal state. Mr. Theodore and her father and Steve remained the same good friends. The party transparencies and emblems were taken down. It seemed to her that people had not been as deeply disappointed as they ought to be. She was very loyal and faithful in her attachments, and no doubt you think quite obstinate in her dislikes.

But something else happened that aroused her interest. Indeed, there were things happening all the time. Miss Jane Underhill, up at Harlem, was dead and buried, and Margaret had taken a great interest in Miss Lois. Cousins had been going and coming. Mrs. Retty Finch had a little son, and Aunt Crete had come down and spent a week with her sister-in-law. But this distanced them all--Steve and Dolly Beekman were going to be married! The Beekmans had been staying up in the country house. All the girls had been married there.

There were to be five bridesmaids. Annette and Margaret were among them. Joe was to be best man and stand with Miss Annette. Doctor Hoffman was to stand with Margaret. There was a Gessner cousin, a Vandam cousin, and Dolly's dear friend, Miss Stuyvesant. All the bridesmaids were to be gowned in white India mull, and Dolly was to have a white brocaded silk, and a long veil that her grandmother had worn. Hosts and hosts of friends were invited. The house would be big enough to take them all in.

Miss Cynthia made the little girl a lovely dress. First she took her pink merino for a slip. Then there were lace puffs divided by insertion, a short baby waist, short sleeves, pink satin bows on her shoulders, with the long ends floating almost like wings, and a narrow pink ribbon around her waist with a great cluster of bows and ends. She was to have her hair curled all around, and to stand and hold Dolly's bouquet while she was being married. I suppose now we would call her a maid of honor.

No one could say that Mr. Peter Beekman had ever given a mean wedding. He liked Stephen very much, and Dolly could almost have wheedled the moon out of him if she had tried. He teased Annette by telling her she would have to be an old maid, and stay home to take care of her father and mother.

Grandmother Van Kortlandt came down. She laid off her mourning and wore her black velvet gown with its English crown point lace. Grandmother Underhill came too, but she wore black silk with her pretty fine lace fichu that she had been married in herself. Uncle David, and Aunt Eunice, who wore a gray satin that had been made for her eldest son's wedding. There were Underhill cousins by the score, some Bounetts from New Rochelle, some Vermilyeas, for no one really worth while was to be slighted.

The day had been very fine and sunny. That was a sign the bride would be merry and happy and pleasant to live with. And when the evening fell the great lawn was all alight with Chinese lanterns that a second cousin in the tea trade had sent Dolly. All the front of the big old house was illuminated. It was square, with a great cupola on top of the second story, and that was in a blaze of light as well.

The Underhills all went up early. Steve was very proud of his mother, who had a pretty changeable silk, lilac and gray, and Joe had given her a collar and cuffs of Honiton lace, to wear at his wedding, he said.

They went in to see the bride when she was dressed. Of course she was beautiful, a pretty girl couldn't look otherwise in her wedding gear. Her veil was put on with orange blossoms and buds, and delicately scented. There was a wreath of the same over one shoulder and across her bosom. Her hair was done in a marvellous fashion, and looked like a golden crown.

How the carriages rolled around and the silks rustled up and down the stairs. There were gay voices and soft laughs, and presently word was sent that the Reverend Dr. De Witt had arrived. Then the immediate family went down. Dolly stooped and kissed Hanny and told her she must not feel a mite afraid. The young men filed out. Stephen took Dolly, just putting her white-gloved hand on his arm as if it was the most precious thing in the world. Joe, smiling and really much handsomer than Stephen, though you couldn't persuade Dolly to any such heresy; then Doctor Hoffman and the others. They seemed to float down the broad stairs. The rooms were very large, but oh, how full they were! The procession walked through the back parlor; Stephen and Dolly and the little girl went straight up