Bressant

On the evening of the 4th of July, Professor Valeyon and Cornelia got

into the wagon, and drove off, behind Dolly, to the boarding-house. It

was a warm, breathless night, and the stars looked brighter and more

numerous than usual.

The boarding-house was one of the largest buildings in town--an

accidental sort of structure, painted white, green-blinded, and

protected, from the two roads at whose intersection it stood, by a

white-washed board-fence, deficient in several places. The house

expanded into no less than four large bay-windows, affording an outlook

to three small rooms upon the ground-floor. The four or five other

larger apartments were forced to pass a gloomy existence behind a

loop-hole or two apiece, which could not have measured over three feet

in any direction.

The two largest rooms lay corner to corner, at right angles to one

another, and communicating by a passage-way through their point of

contact. Who the original genius was who discovered the admirable

facilities this else preposterous arrangement afforded for dances will

remain forever unknown; but the experiment once tried became an

institution as permanent as Abbie herself.

The small triangle of space between the two rooms, which to utilize had

theretofore been an unsolved problem, served admirably as a station for

the band; they could be heard in either apartment equally well. The

small boudoirs, nooks, and corners, which were scattered here and there

with lavish hand, did excellent duty as flirtation-boxes for those of

the dancers who needed that refreshment; the only drawback being that

one was never quite sure of privacy, on account of the complicated

system of doors and entries that prevailed.

But, in spite of all objections, a dance at Abbie's was the rallying-cry

of the community. All the respectable people in town put on their newest

clothes--and if they were new it did not so much matter what the style

might be--and thronged, on foot or in wagon, to the boarding-house door.

They came to have a good time, and they always succeeded in their

object. What pigeon-wings were performed! what polkas perpetrated! what

waltzes wrecked! How the long lines of the Virginia Reel, or "On the

Road to Boston," extended through the hall from end to end, and how the

couples twisted, whirled, and scooted between them! How the call-man,

with his violin under his chin, stopped playing to vociferate his

orders, or anathematize some bewildered pair! How the old folks, sitting

on chairs and benches along the walls, nodded and smiled and mumbled to

one another as the ruddy faces of their descendants passed and repassed

before them, and spoke to one another of like scenes thirty, or forty,

or fifty years ago! How happy everybody was, and what a jolly noise they

made!

As Cornelia and her papa approached the house, every window was alight,

above and below. The door was thrown hospitably open, and the lamplight

streamed forth and ran down the steps, and lay in a long rectangular

pool upon the road. Abbie stood near the entrance, directing the ladies

one way and the gentlemen another. Punctuality at an affair of this kind

being among the village virtues, the whole company was present within a

surprisingly short time of the appointed hour.