Chapter II

It was after dark when the Hon. Mr. Lumpkin arrived at Tiptop. The Lyceum Hall was already in a blaze of brilliancy, and the revellers were rapidly gathering to do honor to the man who had distinguished himself by holding his tongue.

Mr. Lumpkin, all unconscious of the honors that were in store for him, cordially grasped the hand of Squire Rogers, and entered the house. He drank several cups of particularly strong tea, and found himself fully refreshed from the fatigues of his journey.

“The hall was lighted as you passed, was it not?” asked the squire, thinking it time to broach the subject of the complimentary ball.

“The building on the hill?”

“Yes—next to the meeting house.”

“It was.”

“Something grand there to-night; we must go up.”

“Political?”

“No, nothing of the kind; your friends in this place, without distinction of party, propose to welcome you to Tiptop in a grand reception ball.”

“The deuse they do!”

“Fact!” and the squire grinned in sympathy with the Hon. Mr. Lumpkin.

“But, Rogers, it’s silly.”

“Public men must humor the follies of their constituency.”

“Not my constituents, thank my stars! I am not holden to them for my office; so I shall do them the honor to spend the evening with you, Rogers.”

“But my dear Lumpkin, the affair was got up wholly on your account.”

“Infernally silly of them—decidedly flat.”

“They will be disappointed;” and Squire Rogers looked sad, for he happened to think at that moment that he was a candidate for the legislature.

“No matter.”

“But the aristocracy—bah!—will be mortally offended with me.”

“The what?”

“The affair was got up by our fashionables.”

“So much the better. If they wish to make fools of themselves, they shall not do it at my expense.”

“But consider, my dear Lumpkin, what a terrible disappointment it will be to them. They are even now waiting your arrival. I have been appointed gentleman usher, to conduct you to the hall, and do the honors.”

“Good, Rogers!” and Mr. Lumpkin, being a jolly, good natured Congressman, laughed heartily, notwithstanding the consternation of his legal friend, who began to fear that his want of tact would insure the victory, at the approaching election, to his rival.

“But the ladies, Lumpkin.”

This was a fortunate hit on the part of Squire Rogers. Mr. Lumpkin was a bachelor, and like bachelors in general, he loved the ladies to distraction, while he kept them at a safe distance. The thought of being the centre of attraction, amid a galaxy of bright eyes and blushing cheeks, was rather inviting; but Mr. Lumpkin could not forgive the Tiptopites for making fools of themselves at his expense.

The honorable gentleman was a consistent man, and having before decided not to go, it was against his principles to change his mind. There was a villainous rumor in circulation that Mr. Lumpkin, having unhappily fallen asleep during the making of a certain motion, had suddenly woke up and voted “yea,” in opposition to his colleagues, and against the instructions of his constituents.

Having always been considered sound on the question at issue, every body was surprised at his vote. He did not discover his mistake until the following day; but, being a consistent man, he defended his course, and made the longest speech he was ever known to make, on the folly of instructing public men who are sent to Congress for the good of their country. He would have lost his subsequent election, only that a majority, admiring his manly independence, saw fit to give him their suffrages.

Mr. Lumpkin had said no, and it was an exceedingly difficult thing for him to reverse his sentiments, and say yes. But the ladies, being—as he eloquently expressed it, in his speech on the necessity of reducing the duty on Cashmere shawls, and making it specific, instead of ad valorem—the bright particular luminaries of a republican nation, seemed to beckon him to the ball—to be recreant to his principle of consistency.

But Mr. Lumpkin, in the true spirit of our glorious constitution, resolved to compromise the matter, and go. There was a codfish clique in Tiptop, and Mr. Lumpkin considered it his duty to punish them. After making some arrangements with his friend, whose urgent remonstrances were all unheeded, he left the house.