Littlepage Manuscripts: Satanstoe, The Chainbearer & The Redskins (Complete Edition). James Fenimore Cooper
of those that were taken in our own woods. I had seen several of the small brown bears, and many a wolf, and one stuffed panther, in my time; but never supposed it within the range of possibilities, that I could be brought so near a living lion. Inquiry showed, nevertheless, that Mari was right, with the exception of the animal’s having been expressly caught for the occasion. It was the beast of a showman, who was also the proprietor of a very active and amusing monkey. The price of admission was a quarter of a dollar, for adult whites; children and negroes going in for half-price. These preliminaries understood, it was at once settled that all who could muster enough of money and courage, should go in a body, and gaze on the king of beasts. I say, of courage; for it required a good deal for a female novice to go near a living lion.
The lion was kept in a cage, of course, which was placed in a temporary building of boards, that had been erected for the Pinkster field. As we drew near the door, I saw that the cheeks of several of the pretty young creatures who belonged to the party of Anneke, began to turn pale; a sign of weakness that, singular as it may appear, very sensibly extended itself to most of their attendant negresses. Mari did not flinch, however; and, when it came to the trial, of that sex, she and her mistress were the only two who held out in the original resolution of entering. Some time was thrown away in endeavouring to persuade two or three of her older companions to go in with her; but, finding it useless, with a faint smile, Miss Mordaunt calmly said—
“Well, gentlemen, Mari and myself must compose the female portion of the party. I have never seen a lion, and would not, by any means, miss this opportunity. We shall find my friends waiting for such portions of us as shall not be eaten, on our return.”
We were now near the door, where stood the man who received the money, and gave the tickets. It happened that Dirck had been stopped by a gentleman of his acquaintance, who had just left the building, and who was laughingly relating some incident that had occurred within. I stood on one side of Anneke, Jason on the other, while Mari was close in the rear.
“A quarter for each gentleman and the lady,” said the door-keeper, “and a shilling for the wench.”
On this hint, Jason, to my great surprise, (for usually he was very backward on such occasions,) drew out a purse, and emptying some silver into his hand, he said with a flourish—
“Permit me, Miss—it is an honour I covet; a quarter for yourself, and a shilling for Mari.”
I saw Anneke colour, and her eye turn hastily towards Dirck. Before I had time to say anything, or to do anything in fact, she answered steadily—
“Give yourself no trouble, Mr. Newcome; Mr. Littlepage will do me the favour to obtain tickets for me.”
Jason had the money in his fingers, and I passed him and bought the tickets, while he was protesting—
“It gave him pleasure—he was proud of the occasion—another time her brother could do the same for his sisters and he had six,” and other matters of the sort.
I simply placed the tickets in Anneke’s hand, who received them with an expression of thanks, and we all passed; Dirck inquiring of his cousin, as he came up, if he should get her tickets. I mention this little incident as showing the tact of woman, and will relate all that pertains to it, before I proceed to other things. Anneke said nothing on the subject of her tickets until we had left the booth, when she approached me, and with that grace and simplicity which a well-bred woman knows how to use on such an occasion, and quietly observed—
“I am under obligations to you, Mr. Littlepage, for having paid for my tickets;—they cost three shillings, I believe.”
I bowed, and had the pleasure of almost touching Miss Mordaunt’s beautiful little hand, as she gave me the money. At this instant, a jerk at my elbow came near causing me to drop the silver. It was Jason, who had taken this liberty, and who now led me aside with a earnestness of manner it was not usual for him to exhibit. I saw by the portentous look of the pedagogue’s countenance, and his swelling manner, that something extraordinary was on his mind, and waited with some little curiosity to learn what it might be.
“Why, what in human natur’, Corny, do you mean?” he cried, almost angrily. “Did ever mortal man hear of a gentleman’s making a lady pay for a treat! Do you know you have made Miss Anneke pay for a treat!”
“A treat, Mr. Newcome!”
“Yes, a treat, Mr. Corny Littlepage! How often do you think young ladies will accompany you to shows, and balls, and other sights, if you make them pay!”
Then a laugh of derision added emphasis to Jason’s words.
“Pay!—could I presume to think Miss Mordaunt would suffer me to pay money for her, or for her servant?”
“You almost make me think you a nat’ral! Young men always pay for young women, and no questions asked. Did you not remark how smartly I offered to pay for this Miss, and how well she took it, until you stepped forward and cut me out;—I bore it, for it saved me three nine-pences.”
“I observed how Miss Mordaunt shrunk from the familiarity of being called Miss, and how unwilling she was to let you buy the tickets; and that I suspect was solely because she saw you had some notion of what you call a treat.”
I cannot enter into the philosophy of the thing, but certainly nothing is more vulgar in English, to address a young lady as Miss, without affixing a name, whereas I know it is the height of breeding to say Mademoiselle in French, and am told the Spaniards, Italians and Germans, use its synonyme in the same manner. I had been indignant at Jason’s familiarity when he called Anneke—the pretty Anneke!—Miss; and felt glad of an occasion to let him understand how I felt on the subject.
“What a child you be, a’ter all, Corny!” exclaimed the pedagogue, who was much too good-natured to take offence at a trifle. “You a bachelor of arts! But this matter must be set right, if it be only for the honour of my school. Folks”—Jason never blundered on the words ‘one’ or ‘people’ in this sense—“Folks may think that you have been in the school since it has been under my care, and I wouldn’t for the world have it get abroad that a youth from my school had neglected to treat a lady under such circumstances.”
Conceiving it useless to remonstrate with me any further, Jason proceeded forthwith to Anneke, with whom he begged permission to say a word in private. So eager was my companion to wipe out the stain, and so surprised was the young lady, who gently declined moving more than a step, that the conference took place immediately under my observation, neither of the parties being aware that I necessarily heard or saw all that passed.
“You must excuse Corny, Miss,” Jason commenced, producing his purse again, and beginning to hunt anew for a quarter and a shilling; “he is quite young, and knows nawthin’ worth speaking of, of the ways of mankind. Ah! here is just the money—three ninepennies, or three York shillings. Here, Miss, excuse Corny, and overlook it all; when he is older, he will not make such blunders.”
“I am not certain that I understand you, sir!” exclaimed Anneke, who had shrunk back a little at the ‘Miss,’ and who now saw Jason hold out the silver, with a surprise she took no pains to conceal.
“This is the price of the tickets—yes, that’s all. Naw-thin’ else, on honour. Corny, you remember, was so awful dumb as to let you pay, just as if you had been a gentleman.”
Anneke now smiled, and glancing at me at the same instant, a bright blush suffused her face, though the meaning of my eye, as I could easily see, strongly tempted her to laugh.
“It is very well as it is, Mr. Newcome, though I feel much indebted to your liberal intentions,” she said, turning to rejoin her friends; “it is customary in New York for ladies to pay, themselves, for everything of this nature. When I go to Connecticut, I shall feel infinitely indebted to you for another such offer.”
Jason did not know what to make of it! He long after insisted that the young lady was ‘huffed,’ as he called it, and that she had refused to take the money merely because she was thus