HOME-COMING
Even Polly was satisfied with our young people before we entered New
York Bay. If anything in their "left pulmonaries" had remained
unsoftened during the voyage out and the comradery of the Netherlands,
it was melted into non-resistance by the homeward trip. I could not long
hold out against the evidence of happiness that surrounded me, and I
gave a half-grudging consent that Jarvis and Jane might play together
for the next three or four years, if they would not ask to play "for
keeps" until those years had passed. They readily gave the promise, but
every one knows how such promises are kept. The children wore me out in
time, as all children do in all kinds of ways, and got their own ways in
less than half the contract period. I cannot put my finger on any
punishment that has befallen them for this lack of filial consideration,
and I am fifteen-sixteenths reconciled.
I was downright glad that Jack "made good" with Jessie Gordon. She was
the sort of girl to get out the best that was in him, and I was glad to
have her begin early. Try as I might, I could not feel unhappy that
beautiful September morning as we steamed up the finest waterway to the
finest city in the world. Deny it who will, I claim that our Empire City
and its environments make the most impressive human show. There is more
life, vigor, utility, gorgeousness about it than can be found anywhere
else; and it has the snap and elasticity of youth, which are so
attractive. No man who claims the privilege of American citizenship can
sail up New York Bay without feeling pride in his country and
satisfaction in his birthright. One doesn't disparage other cities and
other countries when he claims that his own is the best.
We were not specially badly treated at the custom-house,--no worse,
indeed, than smugglers, thieves, or pirates would have been; and we
escaped, after some hours of confinement, without loss of life or
baggage, but with considerable loss of dignity. How can a
self-respecting, middle-aged man (to be polite to myself) stand for
hours in a crowded shed, or lean against a dirty post, or sit on the
sharp edge of his open trunk, waiting for a Superior Being with a gilt
band around his hat, without losing some modicum of dignity? And how,
when this Superior Being calls his number and kicks his trunk, is he to
know that he is a free-born American citizen and a lineal descendant of
Roger Williams? The evidence is entirely from within. How is he to
support a countenance and mien of dignity while the secrets of his
chest are laid bare and the contents of his trunk dumped on the dirty
floor? And how must his eyes droop and his face take on a hang-dog look
when his second-best coat is searched for diamonds, and his favorite
(though worn) pajamas punched for pearls.
There are concessions to be made for one's great and glorious country,
and the custom-house is one of them. Perhaps we will do better sometime,
and perhaps, though this is unlikely, the customs inspectors of the
future will disguise themselves as gentlemen. We finally passed the
inquisition, and, with stuffed trunks and ruffled spirits, took cabs for
the station, and were presently within the protecting walls at Four
Oaks, there to forget lost dignities in the cultivation of land and new
ones.