he sought Mrs. Greyson, told
her it was impossible for her to stay among so many elegantly dressed
ladies, and that she preferred keeping her room. Next day, she told her
that she was entirely too attentive to us, and rather than be neglected
in that way for other people, would leave the house, which she did
instantly.

There was a singular assembly of odd characters in the parlor Saturday
night, six of whom looked as though they were but so many reflections
of the same individual in different glasses, and the seventh differed
from the rest only in playing exquisitely on the banjo--"Too well to be
a gentleman," I fear. These were soldiers, come to "call" on us. Half
an hour after we arrived, a dozen of them took possession of the bench
on the bank of the river, one with his banjo who played and sang
delightfully. Old Mrs. Greyson, who is rather eccentric, called, "Ah,
Mr. J----! Have you heard already of the arrival of the young ladies?
You never serenaded _me_!" The young man naturally looked foolish; so
she went out and asked him to come around after dark and play for the
young ladies. So after a while he came, "bringing six devils yet worse
than himself," as the old Scriptural phrase has it, all of whom sat on
the same side of the room, and looked at us steadily when they thought
we were not looking. All had the same voice, the same bow, the same
manner--that is to say none at all of the latter; one introduced an
agreeable variety, saying as he bowed to each separately, "Happy to
make your acquaintance, ma'am." Mr. Halsey just managed to keep his
face straight, while I longed for a Dickens to put them all together
and make one amusing picture out of the seven. I troubled myself very
little about them, preferring Mr. Halsey's company, not knowing when we
would meet again. It would not have been quite fair to leave him to
himself after he had ridden such a distance for us; so I generously
left the seven to Miriam, content with one, and rather think I had the
best of the bargain. The one with the banjo suggested that we should
sing for them before he played for us, so Miriam played on the piano,
and sang with me on the guitar half a dozen songs, and then the other
commenced. I don't know when I have been more amused. There was an odd,
piney-woods dash about him that was exceedingly diverting, and he went
through comic, sentimental, and original songs with an air that showed
his whole heart was in it. Judging from the nu