"Only think, Charlotte," said Marianne Glanvil, on entering the chamber where her sister was endeavouring to get through a warm afternoon in August, by lolling on the bed in a loose gown,—"Susan Davison has just been here with an invitation for us."

Charlotte.—And pray, who is Susan Davison?

Marianne.—The daughter of farmer Davison up the creek. We met her at Trenchard's the day we were obliged to drink tea there.

Charlotte.—I wonder how you can remember their names, or theirselves either: I am sure I do not know one of these people from another, and I never wish to know.

Marianne.—But this Susan Davison is really not so bad. She is diffident enough, to be sure, but is rather less awkward and uncouth than the generality of country girls.

Charlotte.—To me they are all alike; I do not profess to understand the varieties of the species.

Marianne.—Well, I was going to tell you, that after a sitting of half an hour, Susan Davison, as she rose to depart, uttered an invitation to her quilting to-morrow.

Charlotte.—And what is a quilting?

Marianne.—Now, I am sure you must have heard of quiltings. It is an assemblage of all the females in the neighbourhood, for the purpose of quilting, in one afternoon, a whole patch-work bed-cover.

Charlotte.—I shall certainly not go. I never quilted any thing in my life, and I hate the sight of a patch-work bed-cover.

Marianne.—But my father and mother were in the parlour, and promised at once that we should both go.

Charlotte.—How vexatious! Was it not enough, after being educated at the most genteel boarding school in the city, and accustomed only to polished society, to be brought to live at this remote place, where my father has thought proper to purchase an iron-foundry, but we are required also to be civil to the country people, and interchange visits with them? I almost think my father intends being a candidate for the assembly next election, or he never would take the trouble to make himself agreeable to the farmers and their families.

Marianne.—You know, he thinks it is always desirable to be popular with our neighbours.

Charlotte.—That is what I shall never be, unless my neighbours are popular with me.

Marianne.—Now, for my part, I like very well to astonish them by the elegance of my dress, and by my various accomplishments. I am going to put my lace sleeves in my new palmyrene frock, purposely to wear at this quilting.

Charlotte.—It is well worth your while to take that trouble, when the worst dress you have is too good for such company. I shall do quite the contrary, to let them see how little I care for them.

Marianne.—Then you will displease my father.

Charlotte.—Is it necessary that he should know it? I am sure my mother will never tell him, and for her own part, she never opposes us in any thing. However, if I must be at this quilting, I shall take care to make the time as short as possible, for I will go late and come away early.

Marianne.—Susan Davison said, she hoped we would be there by two o'clock, which I suppose will be the usual hour of assembling.

Charlotte.—Two o'clock! Go to a party at two o'clock! Why the wild Indians could not be more uncouth on such an occasion!

Marianne.—I doubt whether the wild Indians have any quiltings. But go we must, as my father and mother at once accepted the invitation for us.

Charlotte.—How unlucky that they happened to be present!

The next day, between one and two o'clock, the Miss Glanvils saw numerous young girls ride by on horseback, on their way to Andrew Davison's which was about two miles from the iron works. "Now," remarked Marianne, "these poor girls must have hurried to get their dinners over before twelve, that they might have time to be drest and mounted by one o'clock."

"But why," asked Charlotte, "do they all wear striped linen skirts with silk bodies and sleeves?"

"Oh!" replied Marianne, "you surely know that those are their riding-skirts; a sort of petticoat made of thick homespun linen, which they tie on over the skirts of their silk frocks to keep them clean while riding."

"You seem to be well versed in all their ways," said Charlotte, contemptuously.

It was five o'clock, however, before the Miss Glanvils were ready to set out for the quilting, as Charlotte took her usual afternoon's nap, and Marianne occupied two hours in dressing; arraying herself in her straw-coloured palmyrene with lace sleeves, and ornamenting her hair (which was a mass of curls) with a profusion of yellow flowers and gauze ribbon. She put on all her jewels, and sewed her white kid gloves to her lace sleeves, which were confined at the wrists with three bracelets each. She had embroidered silk stockings, and white satin shoes, and threw over her shoulders a splendid scarf of various colours. This dress she had worn at a boarding school ball, shortly before the family removed into the country. Nothing could be a greater contrast than the appearance of the two sisters as they got into the carriage; for Charlotte persevered in going to the quilting in a pink gingham, her hair merely tucked behind her ears with two side combs.

Their mother slightly disapproved of both their dresses, but as soon as they were gone thought of something else.

In a short time the Miss Glanvils arrived at Andrew Davison's, and found the quilting going on in the vast stone barn, which had been put in order for the purpose. They were conducted to the barn by young Davison, the farmer's eldest son, who had assisted them out of the carriage, and were met at the entrance by Susan, who received them with much respect, as being the two greatest strangers of the party. The guests were all sitting round the quilting frame busily at work. They looked with some surprise at the two sisters so very differently habited, but no remark was made, even in a whisper.

Charlotte declined taking a chair at the frame, saying, she knew nothing about quilting, and seated herself in a most inconvenient place at the head of the quilt, very much in the way of a young girl that could not draw out her arm in consequence of the vicinity of Miss Glanvil, who saw that she incommoded her, but made no offer to move. Marianne, however, advanced to the frame, and dislodging three or four girls, who rose to make room for her and her immense frock, which was flounced far above her knees, she took out of her reticule an elegant little ivory work box, and laying down beside it a perfumed and embroidered cambric handkerchief, and a tortoise-shell fan, she most pompously set to work with her gloves on. She found this way of quilting very inconvenient, and as her gloves could only be taken off by ripping them from her sleeves, she begged, with an air of the most condescending affability, to be excused from the quilting; and then removed to a seat beside her sister. Charlotte threw herself back in her chair, and putting her feet on the bars of another, sat drumming with her fingers on the quilt and humming a French song.

The other guests, though they all had too much civility to stare as steadily as the Miss Glanvils expected, stole occasional glances of surprise and curiosity at the sisters; one so overdrest and affecting so much condescension, the other insulting them by coming in dishabille, and setting at defiance even the most common rules of politeness.

There sat at the quilt a very pretty young girl, with her dark hair curling on her temples in natural ringlets. She wore a white muslin frock, with a worked cape, and a broad pink ribbon on her neck, which was beautifully white. Her figure was very good, though rather plump than otherwise, and her cheeks had the bloom of roses. She seemed to be acquainted with all the company, and talked pleasantly and sensibly to every one, without any air of superiority, or any affectation of graciousness. She quilted assiduously and neatly, and assisted with great skill in the various operations of rolling, stretching, and pinning the quilt. The sisters did not distinguish and did not ask her surname, but they heard every one call her Fanny.

Shortly after the arrival of the Miss Glanvils, the two younger daughters of farmer Davison, on a signal from their sister Susan, went to a table which stood in a corner of the barn, and removing a cloth which had been lightly thrown over it, disclosed several large custards and three sorts of fruit pies, peach, plum, and apple. The pastry being already cut up, was very soon transferred to as many plates as there were guests, every plate containing a piece of custard and three slices of pie, one of each sort.

These plates were handed to the company on small waiters, by Jane and Mary Davison, while Susan remained near the quilt and invited her guests to eat; every one being expected to taste all the varieties on their plate. The Glanvils exchanged significant looks.

"Is it puff-paste?" said Charlotte, speaking for the first time, and touching a piece of pie with the point of her knife.

"I believe not," replied Susan, colouring, "none of our family understand making puff-paste; but I know mother did her best to have this as short and crisp as possible. Please to try some of it."

"I thank you," answered Charlotte, coldly, "I am very careful of my teeth, and I am afraid to risk their coming in contact with hard substances."

She commenced on a piece of the plum pie, but pointedly avoided the paste, eating out all the fruit, and conspicuously laying aside the crust. Marianne, however, found the pastry so palatable, that she could scarcely refrain from eating the whole that was on her plate, and she was not surprised to overhear the young girl they called Fanny, praising it to another who sat next to her.

The presence of the Miss Glanvils evidently threw a restraint on the whole company, except Fanny, who, to the great surprise of the sisters, appeared perfectly at her ease all the time, and not in the least awed by their superiority.

"Who can that girl be?" whispered Marianne to Charlotte.

"Some vulgar thing like the rest," answered Charlotte.

"I do not think her vulgar," said Marianne.

"I know no reason for supposing her otherwise," rejoined Charlotte. "You know the proverb, 'Birds of a feather flock together.' See how familiar she is with all of them. She knows every one of their names. She must have been born and brought up with them. By their talk she has been here since two o'clock."

About sunset the quilt was completed. The chalk-marks, and the clippings of thread, were then carefully brushed off; a dozen scissors were employed in ripping it from the frame, and two dozen hands afterwards spread it to the full size, and shook it till the lofty roof of the barn echoed the sound; which sound brought in near twenty young men who had been lingering about the barn-door for the last half hour, none of them having courage to venture within, except Susan Davison's two brothers. They were all clean shaved, and in their best clothes; some even had their hair curled, and the Miss Glanvils now found occasion to whisper and titter at the costume of the country beaux, particularly at their very fine waistcoats.

Soon after, one of the little girls came to announce that supper was ready, which intelligence was repeated by Susan to the Miss Glanvils; and her two brothers now came forward, each with a low bow, and offered their arms to conduct the young ladies to the house, as they had been previously tutored by their sister. The Miss Glanvils, however, took no notice of the offered arms, and the young men, much abashed, walked silently beside them. Fanny, escorted by the old farmer, who had accosted her at the barn-door with great cordiality, joined about midway in the procession, and they all walked to the house, where supper was set out in the largest room.

The table was of immense size, with at each end a waiter, containing an equipage for tea and coffee; Mrs. Davison presiding at one and Susan at the other. The centre ornament was a roast pig, flanked by dishes of stewed fowls, and the rest of the table was covered with plates of pound cake, gingerbread, short cakes, doughnuts, rusk, preserves, apple-sauce, fried ham, cream-cheese, and sage-cheese; there being always four plates of each particular article, that a share of all the various good things might be within the reach of every one at table. William and Thomas Davison, assisted by several others of the least bashful and most alert of the young men, stood behind the chairs with waiters in their hands, and helped the females; their father being the only man that took a seat at the table.

The Miss Glanvils sat together in solemn state; Marianne carefully employed in defending her finery from the expected inroads of the various things that were handed about in her neighbourhood; but very much inclined to eat heartily of many of the tempting viands that were before her, had she not been checked by the disapproving looks of her sister.

It was with difficulty that Charlotte consented to be helped to any thing, and uniformly after tasting it laid each article on the side of her plate, as if unfit to eat. After she had taken a sip of tea she drew back with a look of horror, and declaring it to be green tea, and that she would not drink a cup of it for the world, she pushed it away from her as far as possible.

She then requested some black tea, but unluckily there was none in the house; and Mrs. Davison, much disconcerted, apologized in great confusion, saying, that as black tea was not used in the neighbourhood, she did not believe there was any to be had at the store, or she would send and get some. She then asked if Miss Glanvil would take a cup of coffee, but Charlotte replied that though extravagantly fond of coffee in the morning, (always drinking three cups,) she could not possibly touch it at night.

"Did you never drink green tea?" asked the farmer. "Certainly," she replied in a disdainful tone, "I drank it always till black tea became fashionable."

"Then," said the farmer, smiling, "if you have been drinking it all your life till very lately, perhaps you might, if you were to try, make out once more to swallow a cup of it on a pinch, and be none the worse for it."

Charlotte looked much displeased, and sat back in her chair, obstinately determined not to touch the green tea. Of course all the Davison family felt and looked extremely uncomfortable, and they would have been glad when the Miss Glanvils finally rose from table, which they did shortly after, only that the rest of the company thought it necessary to follow their example, and the feast prepared with so much care and trouble was concluded in half the usual time. The female guests were conducted to an adjoining room, while the supper table was cleared away and then re-set exactly as before for the young men.

Singing being proposed, Fanny was invited "to favour them with a song." She consented at once, and inquired which of her songs they would have. The simple and beautiful Scotch air of the Bonnie Boat was named, and she sung it with a sweet clear voice and excellent taste, though no attempt at ornament. The Miss Glanvils exchanged glances and whispers.

The two young ladies were then respectfully requested to sing. Charlotte refused at once, declaring that it was impossible to sing without an instrument: but Marianne, eager to display her knowledge of fashionable music, complied readily, and gave "Una voce poco fa," with what she considered wonderful execution. As soon as she had finished, Charlotte perceiving that the company, though greatly amazed at first, had become much fatigued by this unseasonable exhibition of Italian singing, and that it had not given the least pleasure to any one, ill-naturedly proposed to her sister to try "Di piacer," which she also got through, to the great annoyance of the young men who had long before come in from the supper room, and who were certainly not of a class to relish such songs as are unintelligible to all but the initiated.

A black man now appeared with a fiddle, and took his seat in one of the windows; there was a reinforcement of beaux, and the Miss Glanvils found that a dance was to be the next amusement. Marianne remarked, in a group of young men that had just entered the room, one of remarkably genteel appearance and extremely handsome. "Charlotte," said she, "look at that young gentleman in black, talking to Tom Davison."

"I see no gentleman in the room," replied Charlotte, "and I do not know Tom Davison from the other clowns."

"Oh! but this, I am certain, is really a gentleman," said Marianne, "I wish he would ask me to dance."

"What!" exclaimed Charlotte, "would you actually join in a dance with these people? Could you stand up with them and give them your hand? And above all things, would you make one in a country-dance, for of course they know nothing about cotillions?"

"Yes I would," answered Marianne, "with such a partner as that young gentleman in black. And then, when they see my French steps, how ashamed they will be of their own shuffling and prancing." Just then, Tom Davison, observing Marianne's eyes fixed with evident approbation on the stranger in black, brought him up and introduced him to her as Captain Selman; and on his requesting the pleasure of dancing with her, she immediately consented with great satisfaction. Tom Davison then, with a low bow and a look of much embarrassment, ventured to make the same request of Charlotte, who refused with an air of such unequivocal contempt, that the youth determined in his own mind to leave her to herself for the remainder of the evening.

The musician made three scrapes on his fiddle as a signal for every one to take their places. "Of course," said Marianne, "we go to the top," and Captain Selman led her to the head of the country dance that was forming, while she lamented to him the sad necessity of being obliged to join in such a dance, saying that she must depend on him to give her some idea of the figure; and adding that he would find her an apt scholar, as she was always considered very quick at learning every thing.

The musician gave a loud stamp with his foot, and then struck up New-Jersey; but observing that Charlotte stopped her ears in horror, Marianne begged of her partner to go and ask the man if he could not play something less barbarous. The man replied that New-Jersey was the dancing tune he was most used to, but that he could play the Morning Star and Fisher's Hornpipe quite as well. Marianne said that she had heard her mother speak of dancing these things when she was a girl, and therefore she was sure they must be abominable.

At last, after much sending of Captain Selman backwards and forwards, and proposing tunes which she knew the poor fiddler had never even heard of, it was ascertained that he thought he could play "The Campbells are coming," having catched it, as he said, the last time he was in town.

Captain Selman undertook to instruct the company in the figure, which he did with great good humour, and they actually learnt it with a quickness that surprised Marianne. She went down the dance exhibiting all her most difficult steps, and affecting a wonderful gracefulness in every motion. However, when she got to the bottom, suspecting that this display had not excited quite as much admiration as she had expected, she professed great fatigue, and threw herself into a chair, declaring she could not dance another step; and knowing that in consequence Captain Selman could do no less than stand by and converse with her till the set was over.

"I do not see Susan Davison dancing," said Marianne, "she has been sitting all the time beside my sister. She is rather a pretty girl; I wonder none of the young men have taken her out."

"I made my bow to her soon after I came in," replied the Captain, "but she declines dancing this evening, alleging that, being in her own house, she is unwilling to take a place that might be occupied by one of her friends."

"I suppose," said Marianne, abruptly, "your next partner will be the young person they call Fanny, as she is certainly rather well-looking. There she is, about the middle of the dance, with a broad pink ribbon round her neck. Indeed, though my sister is of a contrary opinion, I should be almost inclined to think this Fanny something of a lady, only that she is so sociable with these people. To be sure, I have tried myself to be affable this evening, but I find it such an irksome task that I believe it will be my last attempt. Now it seems quite natural to this said Fanny, which proves, as my sister Charlotte says, that she is in reality no better than the rest. We think she must be the daughter of one of these country store-keepers, and that she has now and then had the benefit of a fortnight's polishing in the city, while her father was buying his spring goods."

Captain Selman smiled, and was going to reply, when Charlotte joined them, saying in a most peevish voice, "Marianne, do you intend staying here all night? If you do, you must stay by yourself. I have just heard our carriage drive up, for I charged William to come for us early, and I am dying to get away."

Marianne, who would willingly have stayed longer, was about to remonstrate, but finding that the Captain had escaped from her side, she felt less reluctant to go. Charlotte made her exit without ceremony, but Marianne purposely loitered till the dance was over, that she might make her departure the more conspicuous, and produce a great effect by her elegant manner of taking leave. She then walked up to Mrs. Davison, and overwhelming the good woman with curtseyings, bowings, compliments and flourishes, she left the room, accompanied by Susan, to the chamber in which their shawls and calashes had been deposited.

They were put into the carriage by Tom Davison, as his last effort of civility. And it was resolved next day by the family in council, that the Miss Glanvils should on no future occasion be invited; for, as Mrs. Davison remarked, they held their heads quite too high, and their airs were unbearable.

As they drove home, Charlotte, in the most unqualified terms, expressed her disgust at the quilting-party, and every thing connected with it. Marianne acknowledged that the whole concern, as she called it, was very ungenteel, but still not quite so bad as she had expected. She said that in her opinion Captain Selman would be presentable even in good society, and expressed her surprise at finding an officer at a quilting.

"Pho," said Charlotte, "he is only a militia captain, of course."

"No," replied Marianne, "I am very sure he is no such thing. If he were a militia officer, he would undoubtedly have come to the party in full uniform, booted and spurred, with epaulette, and chapeau and feather, his sword at his side, and his sash spread out over his body as broad as possible, and pinned up in a peak before and behind, as I have heard my mother describe their costume. No, no; this officer is in the regular army, and from something he said, I know he was educated at West Point."

"Well," said Charlotte, "I doubt his being a man of fashion after all. I observed him, after he left you, speaking familiarly to that Fanny as if they were well acquainted. However, he did not seem to ask her to dance, but he paid that compliment to one that sat near the door, a poor bashful-looking girl, the worst dressed and least attractive in the room."

The next day but one was Sunday. The church, which was about three miles off, had been shut up, undergoing repairs ever since Mr. Glanvil had removed to the iron-works, but it was now again opened for worship, and the Glanvil family all repaired thither in their carriage. On this occasion, Charlotte was as elegantly drest as her sister; for having satisfied her perverseness by going in dishabille to the quilting, she determined now to astonish the congregation by a great display of finery at church.

As they passed up the middle aisle, the eyes of the Miss Glanvils were attracted immediately to a handsome pew near the pulpit; in which pew they saw Captain Selman, accompanied by Fanny, and an elderly gentleman and lady, both of remarkably genteel and dignified appearance. The two sisters, at the same moment, pulled each other's sleeves significantly. They thought the service very long, and as soon as church was over, Marianne asked her father if he knew the occupants of the pew that was lined with blue moreen. He replied, "They are the governor and his family. They have been travelling all summer, and only returned last week. I called yesterday to see them as I passed their house, which is about five miles from ours." "Is it possible," exclaimed Charlotte, "that Fanny can be the governor's daughter!" "Is Captain Selman the governor's son?" cried Marianne.

"No," replied Mr. Glanvil. "The governor's name, you know, is Milford. Captain Selman is the son of Mrs. Milford's first marriage, and Miss Fanny Milford is his half-sister."

At the church-gate the governor's carriage was waiting beside Mr. Glanvil's, and Mr. Milford stopped with his family to introduce them to Mrs. Glanvil and her daughters. The Miss Glanvils looked much embarrassed. Charlotte was ashamed that Miss Milford should have witnessed her unamiable behaviour at the quilting, and Marianne was shocked at recollecting the freedom with which she had talked to Captain Selman of his step-sister. Their confusion was so evident, that the Captain and Fanny, when introduced to the Miss Glanvils, avoided making any allusion to having met them at farmer Davison's.

But little was said on either side, and the disconcerted sisters were glad to take refuge in the carriage.

On their way home, Charlotte expressed her surprise at the condescension of the governor's family in deigning to be on visiting terms with the farmer's.

"And why not?" said Mr. Glanvil. "Andrew Davison is a good citizen, and a respectable, sensible and worthy man; and his children, though he has wisely forborne to make any attempt at giving them what is called a fashionable education, are by no means coarse. The old-fashioned plainness of decent country people is not vulgarity; and if they are ignorant of the conventional forms of city society, they generally make amends by having a large share of that natural civility which springs from good feeling; and it is easy in our intercourse with them to avoid imitating such of their habits and expressions as are at variance with our standard of refinement. As fellow-citizens, their rights are the same as ours, and, like us, they call no man master. Not one of them would bend his knee to any monarch upon earth.

"Governor Milford has lived in this part of the country nearly his whole life, and is, of course, acquainted with all the old settlers, of whom Andrew Davison is one. And he has very judiciously brought up his family in the mutual interchange of civilities with all his respectable neighbours, knowing that nothing is ever lost by cultivating the good opinion of those among whom our lot is cast."

"I suspect, after all," said Charlotte, ill-naturedly, "that the governor's affability, and that of his children, originate in the expectation of securing the votes of farmer Davison and his sons at the next election."

"You are entirely mistaken," replied Mr. Glanvil. "Governor Milford and the Davisons, though old friends, are of opposite parties. They did not vote for him at the last election, and he has declined being a candidate for the next."

Next day, the Glanvils were visited by the governor, with his wife and daughter. Captain Selman did not accompany them, having set out to return to his station. Mr. and Mrs. Glanvil were not at home, but the young ladies overwhelmed the Milford family with civilities; Charlotte, in particular, was absolutely obsequious in her attentions.

Upon farther acquaintance, they found that Fanny Milford had been educated in the city, and was quite as accomplished as either of themselves, though she had too much good sense to make any unseasonable display. Her example was not lost upon Marianne, who improved greatly by occasional intercourse with this amiable girl. We wish we could say the same of Charlotte; but pride is of all faults one of the most difficult to conquer, as it is seldom found except in persons of weak understanding. Sensible people are never offensively proud.

ELIZA LESLIE.