ns of whiskey were swallowed
in the groceries, and a great variety of drinks, some of which bore
very ambitious names, shared the same fate in the taverns.

Mademoiselle Viefville had been told that this was the great American
_fete_; the festival of the nation; and she appeared that morning in
gay ribands, and with her bright, animated face, covered with smiles
for the occasion. To her surprise, however, no one seemed to respond
to her feelings; and as the party rose from the breakfast-table, she
took an opportunity to ask an explanation of Eve, in a little
'aside.'

"_Est-ce que je me suis trompee, ma chere_?" demanded the lively
Frenchwoman. "Is not this _la celebration de votre independance_?"

"You are not mistaken, my dear Mademoiselle Viefville, and great
preparations are made to do it honour. I understand there is to be a
military parade, an oration, a dinner, and fire-works."

"_Monsieur votre pere----?_"

"_Monsieur mon pere_ is not much given to rejoicings, and he takes
this annual joy, much as a valetudinarian takes his morning draught."

"_Et Monsieur Jean Effingham----?_"

"Is always a philosopher; you are to expect no antics from him."

"_Mais ces jeunes gens, Monsieur Bragg, Monsieur Dodge, et Monsieur
Powis, meme!_"

"_Se rejouissent en Americains._ I presume you are aware that Mr.
Powis has declared himself to be an American?"

Mademoiselle Viefville looked towards the streets, along which divers
tall, sombre-looking countrymen, with faces more lugubrious than
those of the mutes of a funeral, were sauntering, with a desperate
air of enjoyment; and she shrugged her shoulders, as she muttered to
herself, "_que ces Americains sont droles!_"

At a later hour, however, Eve surprised her father, and indeed most
of the Americans of the party, by proposing that the ladies should
walk out into the street, and witness the fete.

"My child, this is a strange proposition to come from a young lady of
twenty," said her father.

"Why strange, dear sir?--We always mingled in the village fetes in
Europe."

"_Certainement_" cried the delighted Mademoiselle Viefville; "_c'est
de rigueur, meme_"

"And it is _de rigueur_, here, Mademoiselle, for young ladies to keep
out of them," put in John Effingham. "I should be very sorry to see
either of you three ladies in the streets of Templeton to-day."

Why so, cousin Jack? Have we any thing to fear from the rudeness of
our countrymen? I have always understoo