Elinor Wyllys; Or, The Young Folk of Longbridge: A Tale. Volume 1Cooper, Susan Fenimore
General
Elinor Wyllys; Or, The Young Folk of Longbridge: A Tale. Volume 1
Cooper, Susan Fenimore
Frontier and pioneer life -- United States -- Fiction; Historical fiction
qualifications in that respect. His father, moreover, soon
discovered that he had become an adept in the art of spending
money; among his intimates, cards, and the billiard-table, with
other practices of that description, were hinted at, as the way
in which he got rid of his dollars. But as these were subjects
not mentioned in general society, it was as yet the initiated
only, who were aware of young Taylor's Paris habits of this kind.
{"Chateau Margaux and Rudesheimer" = two famous wines}
His father had, of late years, learned to set too high a value
upon the world, and everything worldly, not to be much gratified
by the change that had taken place in his son. As for Adeline,
she gloried in his six-feet and his black moustaches, his Paris
waistcoat and London boots; while his honest-hearted mother would
have loved him just as much under any other metamorphosis he had
chosen to assume. Such as he was, young Taylor soon became quite
a favourite beau with the New Yorkers, and was invited to most
houses. He proved himself quite a ladies' man; no lazy, grumbling
dandy, but a smiling, assiduous beau. He had not been in New York
a month, before he was known to have sent a number of bouquets to
different belles, and was supposed to have given more than one
serenade to his sister's friend, Miss Hunter.
The last day of December, all New York was set in motion by a
fall of snow, sufficient to allow of pretty good sleighing for
four-and-twenty hours. Like such occasions in general, it became
a sort of holiday. And really, the novelty, the general movement,
the bustle and gaiety, the eagerness to enjoy the pleasure while
it lasts, always render such scenes very enlivening. Every
vehicle with runners, and every animal bearing the name of a
horse, are put in requisition for the day. The dashing sleighs
crowded with gaily dressed people, the smiling faces and flying
feathers of the ladies, the rich cloths and furs, the bright
colours of the equipages, and the inspiriting music of the merry
bells, give to Broadway, at such times, quite a carnival look.
The clear, bracing air disposes people to be cheerful; even the
horses feel the spirit of the moment; they prance their heads
proudly, and shake the bells about their necks, as if delighted
with the ease and rapidity of their motion; sympathizing
foot-passengers stop to give their friends a nod, and follow
their rapid course with good-natured smiles. Young people and
children are collected for a frolic, and family parties hurry off
to drink coffee and mulled wine, to eat plum-cake and waffles at
the neighbouring country-houses. It is altogether a gay, cheerful
sight, enjoyed with all the more zest from its uncertainty.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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