The Choir Invisible

"We shall soon put him beyond the reach of his law," said a member of the

Transylvania Library Committee. "As soon as his school is out, we are going

to send him to ask subscriptions from the President, the Vice-President, and

others, and then on to Philadelphia to buy the books."

A shadow fell upon the face of another officer, and in a lowered tone he

said, with cold emphasis:

"I am sorry that the citizens of this town should stoop to ask anything from

such a man as George Washington."

The schoolmaster scarcely realized what he had done when he consented to act

as a secret emissary of the Jacobin Club of Lexington to the club in

Philadelphia during the summer.

The political talk ended at last, the gentlemen returned to the ladies. He

found himself standing in a doorway beside an elderly man of the most

polished hearing and graceful manners, who was watching a minuet.

"Ah!" he said, waving his hand with delight toward the scene. "This is

Virginia and Maryland brought into the West! It reminds me of the days when

I danced with Martha Custis and Dolly Madison. Some day, with a beginning

like this, Kentucky will be celebrated for its beautiful women. The

daughters and the grand-daughters and the great-granddaughters of such

mothers as these--"

"And of fathers like these!" interposed one of the town trustees who came up

at that moment. "But for the sake of these ladies isn't it time we were

passing a law against the keeping of pet panthers? I heard the cry of one as

I came here to-night. What can we do with these young backwoods hunters?

Will civilization ever make pets of them--ever tame them?"

John felt some one touch his arm; it was Kitty with Horatio. Her cheeks were

like poppies; her good kind eyes welcomed him sincerely.

"You here! I'm so glad. Haven't you seen Amy? She is in the other room with

Joseph. Have they explained everything? But we will loose our place--"she

cried, and with a sweet smile of adieu to him, and of warning to her

partner, she glided away.

"We are entered for this horse race," remarked Mr. Turpin, lingering a

moment longer. "Weight for age, agreeable to the rules of New Market. Each

subscriber to pay one guinea, etc., etc., etc." He was known as the rising

young turfman of the town, having first run his horses down Water Street;

but future member of the first Jockey Club; so that in the full blossom of

his power he could name all the horses of his day with the pedigree of each:

beginning with Tiger by Tiger, and on through Sea Serpent by Shylock, and

Diamond by Brilliant, and Black Snake by Sky Lark: a type of man whom long

association with the refined and noble nature of the horse only vulgarizes

and disennobles.