"You shock me!" said Arthur, with a shudder.
"Just what every young prig from the North is sure to say at first, but they get to be one of the 'fast ones' at last. I was quite sober myself when I first came here. I was from the land of steady habits, ye see-the only son of my mother, and she was a widder; but she died, and nobody cared for me here, so I just joined the b'hoys, and learned how to enjoy myself."
"I'll tell you what we'll do!" exclaimed Quirk, after another short pause, "we'll just take the cars, and go to Carrolton. That's a fine place, and it can't hurt your conscience any to visit it. Even the ministers ride up there on Sundays sometimes."
"How soon could we return? By the time church is out?"
"Oh, we can come back any minute we like. Hurrah! Now hop in, or we'll be left."
The cars were just on the point of leaving, and they were obliged to run in order to catch their chance. The moment of reflection did not come to Arthur till he had taken his seat, and was rapidly moving away. If there came any pangs of conscience then, they were, from a dread of ridicule, studiously concealed from his companion, and consoling himself with the thought that it now was too late to repent, he gave himself up to the full enjoyment of his ride.
After leaving the city, as the charming suburban retreats, one by one, came out upon his view, Arthur eagerly regarded each one, appreciating its brightness and freshness all the more from his recent confinement in the city. The clear sloping meadows, the rural cottages, the fresh air, all served to enliven and cheer him; and, as the cars were crowded with pleasure-seekers, like himself, he forgot it was Sunday, and was happy in his forgetfulness.
Near Carrolton a beautiful wood burst upon his sight, skirting either side of the track, and casting soft deep shadows on the bright green sward beneath the branches. The trees were of noble growth, and from every limb hung pendant the tattered sheets of long gray moss, so common in the South, and so solemn and sombre in their effect.
"Was there ever anything more beautiful, even on the banks of my own Hudson!" exclaimed Arthur, enraptured at the scene. "Can we not persuade the conductor to stop, and let us down? I would enjoy a stroll there."
"Nonsense!" returned his companion. "I can't go with you if you go there. I have a horror of that swinging moss, and can't bear to be near it. Those trees always make me think of ghosts, with rotten shrouds on 'em."
"That's a fine comparison, Charley," said a clear, sarcastic voice near them; and a young man, bearing the unmistakable stamp of the genteel loafer about him, stretched out a small white hand, with a large diamond glittering on the little finger, and shook Charley's over the back of the seat.
He was quite a youth, apparently not over twenty years of age; but there was an expression in his eye which would lead one to believe him older. It was an eye old in cunning, old in craft, and old in sin. It was small, deep-set, and of piercing blackness. His hair was of a soft chestnut, and curled slightly at the ends. His lips were thin, and his complexion sallow. His dress, in every article, was of the finest material, but arranged with a decidedly foppish taste; and, somehow or other, his whole appearance reminded one of those large bills, stuck up in depots, with "Beware of Pickpockets" on them.
Charley leaned back, after shaking hands with him, and whispered something in his ear; then, nodding to Arthur, said:
"Mr. Pratt, I'll make you acquainted with Mr. Clinton. Mr. Clinton, Mr. Pratt."
Arthur bowed, and accepted the hand cordially extended to him, and politely expressed his pleasure at the acquaintance.
"Well, just consider me one of you from this hour," said Clinton, rising, and turning his seat so that he might face his friends. "Just confide to me your intentions for to-day, and you'll find I'm with you, heart and hand."
Charley tipped a sly wink at him, unperceived by Arthur, and answered:
"We're only going to Carrolton, to stroll through the gardens; that's all."
"Ah, yes; going to contemplate the beauties of nature. I understand. Just so. Glad to hear it; for, of all things in the world, it's just what will suit me best. Just consider me one of you."
Arthur eyed his new friend with considerable curiosity, as he let off these little explosive sentences, and withdrew his eyes with an unsatisfied look, as the other ceased speaking.
"He evidently," thought he, "wants to seem a gentleman, and don't know how."
"Here we are!" cried Clinton, as the train stopped. "Now, my dear friends, let's hasten to leave these clattering cars, where I scarcely can breathe. Ah! you perceive this beautiful scenery has already inspired me. I s'pose, Mr. Pratt, you didn't know I was a poet before, did you?"
"I was certainly not previously aware of your poetical talents, Mr. Clinton," returned Arthur, laughing, "but I shall never doubt it again."
"That's right, my boy. Like your candor. You're excusable for not noticing before that I was a genius. It was no doubt merely because you didn't look closely in my face. Any one can see it who does. There's the pretty Miss Julia Tippet, she declares she'd know me for one through a pair of green spectacles."
So saying, Mr. Clinton sprang to the ground, and being a little taller than the other two, he familiarly passed an arm over their shoulders as he stepped between them, and so passed on through the garden gate.
As they trod the neat shell walks, and inhaled the fragrance of the many blooming flowers, Arthur enthusiastically expressed his delight; and Mr. Clinton, suddenly drew in a long breath through his nostrils, and exclaimed, at the same time striking an attitude:-
"Delightful spot! I know not what could e'er draw hence my willing feet,
Unless it be a chance I see, for some kind friend to stand a treat."
"There!" bringing down his right hand, with a hearty whack upon his knee, "if I haven't been off again into one of my spontaneous bursts of poetical effusion! Who ever saw that beat?"
"Ha! ha! ha!" roared Charley. "I take the hint; what'll you have; mint-juleps for three, or three for old Cogniac?"
"Thank you," said Arthur, as he met Charley's inquiring glance. "Nothing for me. I never indulge."
"Oh, you must have something, if it's nothing more than lemonade with a stick in it," returned Charley.
"Hurry up your pegs there, Charley!" cried Clinton, at the top of his voice. "Pratt's getting faint, and wants something to strengthen him!"
This was said in such a good humored hope-I-don't-offend manner, that Arthur could not repress a smile; and while the smile was on his lips the drinks arrived, and he received his with a bow. That he considered it good, was very evident from the manner in which he drank it, an act which Quirk and Clinton watched narrowly, over the brims of their glasses.
Arthur experienced no more pangs of conscience that day; neither did he recall his intended return by the time church was out. After drinking, his companions used every effort to make themselves agreeable, and showed him over the extensive grounds, strolled through the shady avenue on the Levee with him, and then, as the day was warm, declared themselves thirsty, and proposed that Arthur should treat them.
He eagerly assented, and for the first time in his life marched boldly into the bar-room, and ordered three strong drinks, all of the same description.
Then a military company arrived, and the excitement of the drill, the sound of the martial music, and the fresh uniform of the soldiers, combined with the noise and bustle of railroad travel, and the crowd of lookers on, seemed to dispel all remembrance of Sunday, and the whole afternoon passed in this way, in what then seemed real enjoyment.