Chapter 8

"First, tell me, have you ever been at Pisa."

SHAKSPEARE.

The conflagration alluded to, rather than described, in the
proceeding chapter, threw a gloom over the gaieties of New-York, if
that ever could be properly called gay, which was little more than a
strife in prodigality and parade, and leaves us little more to say of
the events of the winter. Eve regretted very little the interruption
to scenes in which she had found no pleasure, however much she
lamented the cause; and she and Grace passed the remainder of the
season quietly, cultivating the friendship of such women as Mrs.
Hawker and Mrs. Bloomfield, and devoting hours to the improvement of
their minds and tastes, without ever again venturing however, within
the hallowed precincts of such rooms as those of Mrs. Legend.

One consequence of a state of rapacious infatuation, like that which
we have just related, is the intensity of selfishness which smothers
all recollection of the past, and all just anticipations of the
future, by condensing life, with its motives and enjoyments, into the
present moment. Captain Truck, therefore, was soon forgotten, and the
literati, as that worthy seaman had termed the associates of Mrs.
Legend, remained just as vapid, as conceited, as ignorant, as
imitative, as dependent, and as provincial as ever.

As the season advanced, our heroine began to look with longings
towards the country. The town life of an American offers little to
one accustomed to a town life in older and more permanently regulated
communities; and Eve was already heartily weary of crowded and noisy
balls, (for a few were still given;) _belles_, the struggles of an
uninstructed taste, and a representation in which extravagance was so
seldom relieved by the elegance and convenience of a condition of
society, in which more attention is paid to the fitness of things.

The American spring is the least pleasant of its four seasons, its
character being truly that of "winter lingering in the lap of May."
Mr. Effingham, who the reader will probably suspect, by this time, to
be a descendant of a family of the same name, that we have had
occasion to introduce into another work, had sent orders to have his
country residence prepared for the reception of our party; and it was
with a feeling of delight that Eve stepped on board a steam-boat to
escape from a town that, while it contains so much that is worthy of
any capital, contains so much more that is unfit for any place, in
order to breathe the pure air, and to enjoy the tranquil pleasare of
the country. Sir George Templemore had returned from his southern
journey, and made one of the party, by express arrangement.

"Now, Eve," said Grace Van Cortlandt,