Part 20 (1/2)

CHAPTER XXII.

The Friends' Seminary--The Princ.i.p.al Chappaqua Residences--Reminiscences of Paris during the War--An Accomplished Lady--Her Voice--Festivities--A Drive to Rye Lake--Making Tea on the Beach--A Sail at Sunset--Fortune-telling by Firelight--The Drive Home--Sunday Morning--A Row on the Pond--Dramatic Representations in the Barn--A Drive to Lake Wampas--Starlight Row.

_August 24_.

A visit last night from Mr. Collins, the Princ.i.p.al of Chappaqua Inst.i.tute. This gentleman is one of our neighbors; so when the duties of school hours are over, he frequently calls in to play a game of croquet, or to join in the evening rubber of whist, of which Marguerite and Gabrielle are so fond. I had often heard his name before he was introduced to us, and imagined, from his responsible position, that he must be some staid, gray-haired Quaker; but, upon meeting him, I was surprised to discover that, although Princ.i.p.al of the ”Friends'

Seminary,” he belonged to the ”world's people”; and was quite young enough to impress the more susceptible among his young lady pupils.

_August 27_.

In speaking of the handsome residences about and near Chappaqua, I have unintentionally overlooked one of the finest among them. It is situated about half-way between Chappaqua and Mount Kisco; and so far as I can judge by a view from the road, the grounds are both extensive and well cultivated. The house stands back from the road, and is quite imbedded in trees, and the lawn and flower-beds are very prettily laid out.

Upon asking Bernard one day, as we were driving to Mount Kisco, to whom this place belonged, he said that he had forgotten the owner's name, but believed he was now in Europe; and it was not until quite recently that I ascertained it was the property of Mr. Elliott O. Cowdin, of New York City, Paris, or Westchester County. I really do not know which place to accredit to him as his residence.

Yesterday Mr. Cowdin dined with us, and we had quite a merry time recalling our adventures upon leaving Paris in 1870. It was only three days before the battle of Sedan, when every one was rus.h.i.+ng away from the doomed city, that we also decided to leave; and Mr. Cowdin was very kind in helping us off. We had many tribulations and delays in procuring our tickets, and having our luggage registered, for thousands were waiting in the Gare St. Lazare to escape from the range of Prussian sh.e.l.ls; but between the energy of Mr. Cowdin and his servant Harry, and the talismanic name of Washburne (for our amba.s.sador had kindly given us his card to present at the ticket and freight offices), we succeeded in running the blockade much easier than we had antic.i.p.ated. Once in the waiting-room, we seated ourselves upon our bags, for every chair had been taken hours before, and waited for the twelve o'clock train. We sat patiently for an hour, and were then informed it would not start until six, for what reason we could not learn; for French officials can never be induced to give you any information.

At the close of another hour, we were not only white with alarm, supposing the Prussians were at the city gates, but were also in a starving condition, having eaten nothing since our eight o'clock breakfast of chocolate and rolls. What to do we did not know; the doors of the waiting-room were closed, and despite the shrieks and frantic kicks of the terrified and penned-up pa.s.sengers, no egress was permitted. Finally, our party of five helpless women decided to appeal to Mr. Cowdin, feeling confident that he would devise some means to relieve our forlorn condition. A piteous note was accordingly written, informing him that we should be prisoners until six o'clock, and appealing to his American chivalry to come and share our confinement with us, and to fetch some bread and b.u.t.ter, of which we stood sorely in need.

Among the employees of the station a messenger was found, and in less than an hour Mr. Cowdin's friendly face was seen, as he made his way through the crowd, followed by the invaluable Harry with a basket. An impromptu table-cloth, consisting of newspapers, was spread upon the floor, and we gathered about our feast, the other pa.s.sengers meantime eying us hungrily, as roast chicken, Bordeaux, and a four-pound loaf appeared from the basket.

That was my last meal in Paris, and although the circ.u.mstances appeared very amusing as we talked them over with Mr. Cowdin yesterday, they were anything but entertaining at that time, expecting momentarily as we did that a sh.e.l.l would explode among us.

_August 31_.

I have just returned from a walk to the station to meet our friend, Mrs. George Gilman, whom we expected would spend the day with us, but found instead a note from her saying that ill-health would prevent her from visiting us at present.

Mrs. Gilman is a dear friend of ours, and a charming and accomplished woman. Her elegant drawing-rooms upon Lexington Avenue are a resort for not only the fas.h.i.+onable world, but a favorite rendezvous for the princ.i.p.al vocalists and pianists of the city, for Mrs. Gilman is perhaps the only amateur in New York society whose voice equals Carlotta Patti's in extent, and the ease with which her flute-like tones reach G in alt. Her voice has been carefully trained by many of the great New York masters, and has also had the advantage of Paris instruction. Therefore we may congratulate ourselves that we possess in private life, one who would make so admirable a prima donna.

_September 6_.

My journal, about which I am usually so conscientious, has been neglected for nearly a week, for we have had a succession of visitors, and my time has been entirely taken up with drives, games of croquet, and starlight walks.

On Sat.u.r.day, several friends came up with papa in the morning train; some merely to pa.s.s the day, and others to make a longer stay with us.

Mr. James Parton, the well-known author, had not visited dear Chappaqua in twenty years, and was desirous of seeing the changes that time had effected in this lovely spot. Others, too, were visiting us for the first time, and preferred to see the wild, picturesque beauties of the place, rather than to drive, ride, or play croquet; consequently the company soon divided. One party strolled off through the woods, and followed the course of the brook up to our tiny cascade--now, however, swollen by the heavy rains we have recently had into quite a noisy and impetuous waterfall, while others who had earlier in the season spent long mornings with us under the pines and beneath the oaks on the side-hill, now enrolled themselves in Gabrielle's regiment, confident that she would lead them to a glorious victory on the field of croquet.

We did not a.s.semble again until our two o'clock dinner, and as soon as that meal was over, we started upon the long-contemplated picnic to Rye Lake. A large six-seated carriage and a pair of stout horses had been hired, and Ida's own phaeton and ponies were also at the door to convey our party to that most romantic sheet of water.

Every seat in the two conveyances was occupied, and all the available corners were filled with tightly packed baskets, containing charcoal and pine-cones to kindle a fire upon the smooth beach, tea-kettles and teapots, table linen, dishes and provisions. The drive was one of the most delightful that we have yet had, and was heightened by the dreamy haze of autumn, that is now faintly perceptible.

The lake is private property, and picnics are frowned upon; however, the most attractive gentleman in our party was sent to ask permission for us to pa.s.s the afternoon there, and a cordial a.s.sent was quickly granted.

A well-trimmed sward, shaded by fine old oaks, was selected as the most suitable place to lay the cloth, and then, to pa.s.s away the time until six o'clock, several of the party went out in a row-boat.

”We were absent an hour or more, playing cards, singing, and drifting about; now and then grazing a rock, or narrowly escaping an upset, owing to the disproportion of weight among the pa.s.sengers, and at sunset returned to our encampment. Here we found a blazing fire, and the tea-kettle singing joyously. An extensive meal was spread upon a neat white cloth, and we grouped about it upon our bright carriage rugs, so like leopard skins with their black spots upon a yellow ground. Hot tea was a very agreeable subst.i.tute for the lemonade that generally forms the beverage at picnics, and as we all had excellent appet.i.tes, the meal pa.s.sed off very pleasantly.

”What are we to do now!” inquired one restless being, as we walked down to the beach, leaving Bernard to consume the _debris_ of the feast and collect the dishes.