Part 24 (1/2)

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 s.h.i.+p 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 Was.h.i.+ngton, 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.”