“Does your head ache?”

“Yes, my head,” said Jacqueline, and went into the house.

CHAPTER IV

THE TWO CANDIDATES

The town, established forty years before this April morning, had been named for a Princess of Mecklenburg-Strelitz, lately become Queen of England.  During the Revolution it had been the scene of a raid of Tarleton’s and a camp of detention for British prisoners.  It was the county seat to which three successive presidents of the United States must travel to cast their votes; and somewhat later than the period of this story it was to rub elbows with a great institution of learning.  No city even in our own time, it was, a hundred years ago, slight enough in size to suit the genius for tempered solitude characteristic of a tobacco-growing State.

A few dwelling-houses of frame and brick rose from an emerald mist of gardens, and there were taverns, much at the service of all who came to town with money in their purse.  The Swan allured the gentlefolk of the county, the coach-and-four people, Jehus of light curricles, and riders of blooded horses.  The Eagle had the stage-coach patronage, and thrice a week blew a lusty horn.  Besides the inns and the dwelling-houses there were stores and a half-built church, the Court House, and the shady Court House yard.

For a great part of the time, the Court House, the centre of gravity for the county, appeared to doze in the sunshine.  At stated intervals, however, it awoke, and the drowsy town with it.  Once awake, both became very wide awake indeed.  Court days doubled the population; an election made a beehive of the place.

It was the fourth Wednesday in April, and election day.  A man was to be sent to the House of Delegates at Richmond.  All likelihood was upon the side of the candidate of the Democrat-Republicans, but the Federalists had a fighting chance.  There were reasons why this especial election was of great interest to the county, and the motto of both parties was “No malingering!” Early in the morning, by the Three-Notched Road, the Barracks Road, and the Secretary’s Road, through the shady Thoroughfare, over the misty Rivanna, the Hardware, and the Rapidan, the county began to pour electors into Charlottesville.  They came upon wheels, on horseback, and afoot; the strong and the weak, the halt and the blind, the sick and the well, the old and the young, all the free men of Albemarle, all alert, all pleasurably excited over the prospect of the fight.

Without the Court House yard, under the locust trees to the right of the open gate, were placed long tables, and on them three mighty punch-bowls, flanked by drinking-cups and guarded by house servants of venerable appearance and stately manners.  Here good Federalists refreshed themselves.  To the left of the gate, upon the trampled grass beneath a mulberry, appeared other punch-bowls, and in addition a barrel of whiskey, ready broached for all good Democrat-Republicans.  The sunny street was filled with horses, vehicles, and servants; the broad path between the trees, the turf on either hand, and the Court House steps were crowded with riotous voters.  All ranks of society, all ages, occupations, and opinions, met in the genial weather, beneath the trees where sang every bird of spring.