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in a few days afterwards beneath the caricature representations of hearts and doves, in the little village paper, was formally announced the marriage of Everard Malcolm, Esq. the rich stranger from the Lowlands, to the blooming

"ROSE OF THE ALLEGHANY."

THE

RAMBLES AND REVERIES

OF

FRANKLIN FANCIFUL,

BARRISTER.
(Continued.)

A CHRISTMAS IN JO TANK.

"Land of the Eagle fancy, bold and strong,
Land of the loyal heart and valiant arm,
Though high-born pride and luxury may wrong
Thy low-land honours; still my heart shall warm
At thy unquestioned worth and hospitable charm."

Who that has ever visited the little tract of country bordering upon Choptank Creek and the Potomac River, but that recollects the frolics and junketings, the balls and horse-races, the Fourths of July and Christmas festivities, which flourish with such luxuriance in that hospitable little region, naturally so productive of broom-corn and black-jack. And what Virginian has not heard of the far-famed oyster and crab dinners, the "roaring roystering blades" of Jo Tank, and of Ben Grimes and his swivel.

Nightfall had set in, and the rapidly descending hoar frost was glistening through the shadowy prospect around, as upon a Christmas Eve some years ago, Carmine Fanciful, the painter, and myself were

hurrying from Walker's Bridge to the residence of an old uncle upon the Potomac. The evening was very cool although clear, and the old pine trees around us sighed and waved beneath the pressure of a heavy gale; yet, as we were completely enveloped in large plaid cloaks, fur caps, wrappers, and the numberless other inconveniences necessary to a traveller, we jogged on rapidly and comfortably upon the smooth sandy road. We rode for some time in silence; my feelings were too much exhilarated with anticipated enjoyment to allow of my entering into conversation. I thought of my aged relative, the only brother of my father, and a hero of the revolution, with all the fondness which the recollections of relationship and a thousand kindnesses which he had rendered me when a child, could inspire. The many presents of cake and candy, his numberless intercessions to screen me from the chastisement which my pranks would bring upon me, even his long queue, and massy silver buckles and short knee'd breeches, all rushed upon my mind with delightful association. The painter seemed absorbed in other meditations; for, he frequently stopped short in the road and pointed out to my view some splendid sketch for the pencil, and annoyed me divers times with lengthy dissertations upon the perspective of some far distant tree, or the foreshortening of a stump near us in the road. Now and then he would edify me with the snatches of a catch, which he said he heard in the barrens of Kentucky. I recollect but few of the stanzas, and they were thus harmoniously arranged:

"Oh! he whistled in the parlour and he sung within the hall, Dear bless us cried the kitchen maid, he's come to court us all, Such a man was Scutter John.

Then the lady turned about, and she gave the cook a wink
To give the saucy pedlar good victuals and good drink,
Such a man was Scutter John.

A sudden turn of the road brought us upon the bank of the Potomac, when the moon, which had just arisen, gleamed through the tall masts and cordage of a frigate, which was lying at anchor in the river. Loud shouts of merriment from the ship broke now and then upon the tide, and gave unequivocal symptoms that the jolly crew were relieving the strictness of long continued discipline by a Christmas frolic. "What a glorious scene," exclaimed Carmine, just as we were arrested by the flash of a cannon which gleamed across the long line of light reflected from the moon, and presented the appearance of an immense cross of silver and gold.

We at length reached the low grounds of my uncle's farm, and upon a rising ground at their extremity, we saw the old-fashioned building, our point of destination, presenting a dark mass against the clear blue sky. Through the leafless branches of the large trees in the yard, we discovered lights flitting to and fro. To a lover of romance, one who had read Mrs. Radcliff and Monk Lewis, they would have been associated with those mysterious illuminations which so frequently appear in some ruined Castle or Church; and which often act as guides to one of the vagabond heroes who figures in the tale as a prodigy of cunning and valour, but

who in real life (at least amongst us) would be committed to the care of Mr. Henley, or the indefatigable Sam Bransford, as a lunatic or a vagrant. To my unsophisticated mind, these lights appeared as the beacons which invited us to good cheer and a. hearty welcome to my brother Carmine, however, they seemed to convey some other meaning; for, he commenced describing to me a new theory of his own discovery concerning light and shadow. We rode speedily through the large gate which stood invitingly open, and gave a loud hallo: it was responded by the cry of a legion of bull-dogs, pointers, hounds, terriers, and "dogs of a low degree," who made their appearance like Roderick Dhu's soldiery, from behind every bush and shrub in the yard. The voice of my uncle dispelled the unwelcome pack, and in a moment we were saluted with a hearty shake of the hand by the old gentleman. "Ah! Frank, Carmine, how are you my boys, how have you been. Bless me how you both have grown. I have looked out for you all day, as you wrote that you were coming." "Jim, you Jim." "Sir," echoed a voice far off from the kitchen. "Take these horses and attend to them well. Do you hear." "Yes master." "Come my boys, walk in."

We entered the parlour, and were introduced to our aunt and a host of cousins, male and female. "Come my boys," exclaimed my uncle after we were disencumbered of our cloaks, &c. "take a dram to keep out cold," (and at the same time he lugged out one of those curious, antique, long-sided square black bottles, so much in vogue in '76.)

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