Wlliam Gilmore Simms
The Cub of the Panther: A Hunter Legend of the ''Old North State'' >> Chapter Seven >> Page 37

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Novel (Romance) | The University of Arkansas Press | 1997
Transcription CHAPTER SEVEN 37
The new visitors, at the entrance, had described themselves as
exhausted with a protracted chase, which had carried them much fur-
ther than they designed, and found them at nightfall near the farm, and
some five miles distant from that of Mr. Bulkley, who was the son of a
well-known farmer of the precinct, but one who moved in very differ-
ent and somewhat foreign circles. He was a young man just from col-
lege, and about twenty years of age. He had been the spokesman on the
occasion.
What he had learned at college we need not say, but we regret to say
that some of his acquisitions were not creditable to his morals. Briefly,
in his explanations to the Squire, he had been guilty of down-right
lying. Their chase had ended by one o'clock that day. They had returned
to Bulkley's farm in good season for a drowse, and dinner after it, and
after smoking and drinking pretty freely, Bulkley had suddenly con-
ceived the idea that some amusement might be found by suddenly
breaking in upon the wedding party, the preparations for which had
been notorious throughout the neighborhood for weeks before.
"It will be rare fun," said he; "Old Blanton is quite a character an
amusing old cock, who manufactures the best peach and apple brandy
in all the country. He has a lot of bouncing girls; it will be a rare frolic,
no doubt. You will see a strange medley of all sorts of characters.""But how can we do it? We are uninvited, and ""Never you mind! We shall be none the less welcome. We should
have been invited, had the old squire thought we would come. If
invited, we certainly should not go. Now, you will see that he will be as
proud as Punch of his visitors, and receive us with all the honors."
Mr. Fairleigh's scruples were easily overcome, a fact which speaks
as little for his morals as for those of his companion. They had been
chums in college, and had graduated decently enough, but without any
distinction.
So much to put them fairly upon the scene. Their presence, as we
have shown, constituted one of the great sensations of the evening. The
buzz went round the circle.
"Don't you know," said Joe Scrymgeour, "he's the only son of the
rich Widow Fairleigh, who lives up on the French Broad, and owns the
biggest farm in all the county. She rides always in her big carriage,
sometimes with four greys; and she never wears nothing but black silk;
and she always carries her big gold watch at her side. She's mighty
rich and mighty proud, too, they do say."
This was the substance of the report of Joe Scrymgeour, that went