Hecuba . They went for long hikes in the hilly woods. They did much target-shooting with Jimmyâs Colt Dragoon. The revolver was a graduation gift from his father, whoâd received it from Samuel Colt himself in appreciation for his contractual expertise in establishing the Colt factory in Hartford. It was an imposing weapon, weighing above four pounds and firing a .44-caliber ball that would make hash of a manâs heart. âPicture yourself a hundred years ago in command of a militia company armed with the only ones of these in existence,â Jimmy said. âYou wouldâve been the lords of the earth.â
Once a week they practiced their swordsmanship, usually with the foils they had competed with at Dartmouth, but sometimes with the cavalry sabers Jimmyâs great-grandfather had acquired in the Revolutionary War. The first time John Roger hefted a saber he at once felt its difference from a fencing foil. This was no instrument of sport but a weapon of war. Its very heft evoked mortal menace. Itwas made for slashing as well as thrusting and its blade was grooved to allow for easier passage through a torso, for the run of blood. A saber contest called for greater strength and stamina than did rapier fencing, and its proper art entailed fighting with a two-handed grip when necessary. It was easy to get caught up in the flailing zeal of a saber match, and during one heated exchange John Roger inadvertently nicked Jimmyâs arm. For a week after, his friend bore the bandaged wound as proudly as a war veteran.
SISTER OF FORTUNA
I n mid-summer they passed their bar examinations, John Roger with ease, Jimmy by the skin of his teethâa fact in which he seemed to take perverse prideâand they were hired as junior members at Fletcher, McIntosh & Bartlett. To mark the occasion, Sebastian Bartlett invited a host of friends to a Saturday picnic on his riverside lawn, to be followed by a ballroom dance that evening.
The day of the picnic was blessed with ideal weather, the turnout large and in festive spirit. A bandstand had been erected on the lawn and a brass ensemble played gaily through the afternoon. Jimmyâs sister, Elizabeth Anne, would not arrive until later in the day, coming by coach from Exeter, where she had been spending the past weeks with friends, following her graduation from the Athenian Female Seminary. Her oil portrait hung on the parlor wall of the Merrimack house and John Roger had often paused to admire it. As pictured, she was truly beautiful. Hair the color of polished copper in green-ribboned ringlets to her bare shoulders, the ribbons matching the color of her eyes. An elegant throat necklaced with pearls. Full lips in a small smile suggestive of some secret amusement. John Roger suspected that the artist may have gilded the lily in gratitude for Mr Bartlettâs no-doubt-hefty commission.
Jimmy told him the painting of Lizzieâas he and his father called her, while Mrs Bartlett referred to her by no name but Elizabethâhad been done less than a year before. âYouâd never know by that picture what a tomboy she was,â Jimmy said. All through girlhood she had been one for foot-racing, climbing trees, flying kites, chucking stones. She had badgered their father into teaching her to swim at a much younger age than Jimmy had learned, and then pestered Jimmy into instructing her how to sail his gaff-rigged pram. She was a constant fret to their mother, whowas ever upbraiding her to behave herself as a respectable young lady ought. Even though Jimmy and his friends refused to let her join their Adventurersâ Club, she persisted in swimming with them in the river. âWe all wanted to dunk her,â Jimmy said, âbut none of us could catch her. She swims like an otter. I donât care to say how many times she beat me in races. She could beat all of us.â
Their mother thought it unseemly that Lizzie was frisking in the river with the
Legs McNeil, Jennifer Osborne, Peter Pavia