The door of the little cabin, whose hospitable threshold I had so often crossed, now opened, and Baptiste made his appearance,--the identical, lank, sallow, erect personage with whom I had parted several years before, with the same pipe in his mouth. His visage was as long and as melancholy as ever, except that there was a slight tinge of triumph in its expression, and a bashful casting down of the eye, reminding one of a conqueror, proud but modest in his glory. He gazed with an embarrassed air at the serenaders, bowed repeatedly, as if conscious that he was the hero of the night, and then exclaimed, “For what make you this charivary?” “Charivary!” shouted the mob; and the tin trumpets gave an exquisite flourish. “Gentlemen!” expostulated the bridegroom, “for why you make this charivary for me? I have never been marry before--and Mam’selle Jeannette has never been marry before!” Roll went the drum!--cow-horns, kettles, tin trumpets and fiddles poured forth volumes of sound, and the mob shouted in unison. “Gentlemen! pardonnez moi--” supplicated the distressed Baptiste. “If I understan dis custom, which have long prevail vid us, it is vat I say--ven a gentilman, who has been marry before, shall marry de second time--or ven a lady have de misfortune to lose her husban, and be so happy to marry some odder gentilman, den we make de charivary--but ’tis not so wid Mam’selle Duval and me. Upon my honor we have never been marry before dis time!” “Why, Baptiste,” said one, “you certainly have been married and have a daughter grown.” “Oh, excuse me sir! Madame Ste. Marie is my niece. I have never been so happy to be marry, until Mam’selle Duval have do me dis honneur.” “Well, well! it’s all one. If you have not been married, you ought to have been, long ago--and might have been, if you had said the word.” “Ah, gentilmen, you mistake.” “No, no! there’s no mistake about it. Mam’selle Jeanette would have had you ten years ago, if you had asked her.” “You flatter too much,” said Baptiste, shrugging his shoulders; and finding that there was no means of avoiding the charivary, he with great good humour accepted the serenade, and according to custom invited the whole party into his house. I retired to my former quarters, at the house of an old settler--a little shrivelled, facetious Frenchman, whom I found in his red flannel nightcap, smoking his pipe, and seated like Jupiter in the midst of clouds of his own creating. “Merry doings in the village!” said I, after we had shaken hands. “Eh, bien! Mons. Baptiste is marry to Mam’selle Jeannette.” “I see the boys are making merry on the occasion.” “Ah Sacré! de dem boy! they have play hell to-night.” “Indeed! how so?” “For make dis charivary--dat is how so, my friend. Dis come for have d’ Americain government to rule de countrie. Parbleu! they make charivary for de old maid, and de old bachelor!” * * * * * ALBERT PIKE 1809–1891