“Oh! forget not the hour, when through forest and vale
We returned with our chief to his dear native halls!
Through the woody Sierra there sigh'd not a gale,
And the moonbeam was bright on his battlement walls;
And nature lay sleeping in calmness and light,
Round the house of the _truants_, that rose on our sight.”
MRS. HEMANS.
We had fallen on board an eastern coaster, called the Martha Wallis,
bound from James' River to Boston, intending to cross the shoals. Her
watch had seen us, because the coasters generally keep better look-outs
than Indiamen; the latter, accustomed to good offings, having a trick
of letting their people go to sleep in the night-watches. I made a
calculation of the turns on board the Tigris, and knew it was Mr.
Marble's watch when we passed the ship; and I make no question he was,
at that very moment, nodding on the hencoops--a sort of trick he had.
I cannot even now understand, however, why the man at the wheel did
not hear the outcry we made. To me it appeared loud enough to reach the
land.
Sailors ordinarily receive wrecked mariners kindly. Our treatment on
board the Martha Wallis was all I could have desired, and the captain
promised to put us on board the first coaster she should fall in with,
bound to New York. He was as good as his word, though not until more
than a week had elapsed. It fell calm as soon as the north-wester blew
its pipe out, and we did not get into the Vineyard Sound for nine days.
Here we met a craft the skipper knew, and, being a regular Boston and
New York coaster, we were put on board her, with a recommendation to
good treatment The people of the Lovely Lass received us just as we had
been received on board the Martha Wallis; all hands of us living aft,
and eating codfish, good beef and pork, with duff (dough) and molasses,
almost _ad libitum_. From this last vessel we learned all the latest
news of the French war, and how things were going on in the country. The
fourth day after we were put on board this craft, Rupert and I landed
near Peck's Slip, New York, with nothing on earth in our possession, but
just in what we stood. This, however, gave us but little concern--I had
abundance at home, and Rupert was certain of being free from want, both
through me and through his father.
I had never parted with the gold given me by Lucy, however. When we got
into the boat to land at the cape, I had put on the belt in which I kept
this little treasure, and it was still round my body. I had kept it as a
sort of memorial of the dear girl who had given it to me; but I now saw
the means of making it useful, without disposing of it altogether. I
knew that the wisest course, in all difficulties, was to go at once to
head-quarters. I asked the address of the firm that owned, or rather
_had_ owned the John, and proceeded to the counting-house forthwith. I
told my story, but found that Kite had been before me. It seems that the
Tigris got a fair wind, three days after the blow, that carried her up
to the very wharves of Philadelphia, when most of the John's people had
come on to New York without delay. By communications with the shore at
the cape, the pilot had learned that his boat had never returned, and
our loss was supposed to have inevitably occurred. The accounts of
all this were in the papers, and I began to fear that the distressing
tidings might have reached Clawbonny. Indeed, there were little obituary
notices of Rupert and myself in the journals, inserted by some hand
piously employed, I should think, by Mr. Kite. We were tenderly treated,
considering our _escapade_; and _my_ fortune and prospects were dwelt on
with some touches of eloquence that might have been spared.
In that day, however, a newspaper was a very different thing from what
it has since become. Then, journals were created merely to meet the
demand, and news was given as it actually occurred; whereas, now, the
competition has produced a change that any one can appreciate, when it
is remembered to what a _competition in news_ must infallibly lead. In
that day, our own journals had not taken to imitating the worst features
of the English newspapers--talents and education are not yet cheap
enough in America to enable them to imitate the best--and the citizen
was supposed to have some rights, as put in opposition to the press. The
public sense of right had not become blunted by familiarity with abuses,
and the miserable and craven apology was never heard for not enforcing
the laws, that nobody cares for what the newspapers say. Owing to
these causes, I escaped a thousand lies about myself, my history, my
disposition, character and acts. Still, I was in print; and I confess
it half-frightened me to see my death announced in such obvious letters,
although I had physical evidence of being alive and well.
The owners questioned me closely about the manner in which the John
was lost, and expressed themselves satisfied with my answers. I then
produced my half-joes, and asked to borrow something less than their
amount on their security. To the latter part of the proposition,
however, these gentlemen would not listen, forcing a check for a
hundred dollars on me, desiring that the money might be paid at my own
convenience. Knowing I had Clawbonny, and a very comfortable income
under my lee, I made no scruples about accepting the sum, and took my
leave.
Rupert and I had now the means of equipping ourselves neatly, though
always in sailor guise. After this was done, we proceeded to the Albany
basin, in order to ascertain whether the Wallingford were down or not.
At the basin we learned that the sloop had gone out that very forenoon,
having on board a black with his young master's effects; a lad who was
said to have been out to Canton with young Mr. Wallingford, and who was
now on his way home, to report all the sad occurrences to the family in
Ulster. This, then, was Neb, who had got thus far back in charge of our
chests, and was about to return to slavery.
We had been in hopes that we might possibly reach Clawbonny before
the tidings of our loss. This intelligence was likely to defeat the
expectation; but, luckily, one of the fastest sloops on the river, a
Hudson packet, was on the point of sailing, and, though the wind held
well to the northward, her master thought he should be able to turn
up with the tides, as high as our creek, in the course of the next
eight-and-forty hours. This was quite as much as the Wallingford could
do, I felt well persuaded; and, making a bargain to be landed on the
western shore, Rupert and I put our things on board this packet, and
were under way in half an hour's time.
So strong was my own anxiety, I could not keep off the deck until we had
anchored on account of the flood; and much did I envy Rupert, who had
coolly turned in as soon as it was dark, and went to sleep. When the
anchor was down, I endeavoured to imitate his example. On turning out
next morning, I found the vessel in Newburgh Bay, with a fair wind.
About twelve o'clock I could see the mouth of the creek, and the
Wallingford fairly entering it, her sails disappearing behind the trees,
just as I caught sight of them. As no other craft of her size ever went
up to that landing, I could not be mistaken in the vessel.
By getting ashore half a mile above the creek, there was a farm-road
that would lead to the house by a cut so short, as nearly to bring us
there as soon as Neb could possibly arrive with his dire, but false
intelligence. The place was pointed out to the captain, who had
extracted our secret from us, and who good-naturedly consented to do all
we asked of him. I do think he would have gone into the creek itself,
had it been required. But we were landed, with our bag of clothes--one
answered very well for both--at the place I have mentioned, and, taking
turn about to shoulder the wardrobe, away we went, as fast as legs could
carry us. Even Rupert seemed to feel on this occasion, and I do think he
had a good deal of contrition, as he must have recollected the pain he
had occasioned his excellent father, and dear, good sister.
Clawbonny never looked more beautiful than when I first cast eyes on
it, that afternoon. There lay the house in the secure retirement of its
smiling vale, the orchards just beginning to lose their blossoms; the
broad, rich meadows, with the grass waving in the south wind, resembling
velvet; the fields of corn of all sorts; and the cattle, as they stood
ruminating, or enjoying their existence in motionless self-indulgence
beneath the shade of trees, seemed to speak of abundance and considerate
treatment. Everything denoted peace, plenty and happiness. Yet this
place, with all its blessings and security, had I wilfully deserted to
encounter pirates in the Straits of Sunda, shipwreck on the shores
of Madagascar, jeopardy in an open boat off the Isle of France, and a
miraculous preservation from a horrible death on my own coast!
At no great distance from the house was a dense grove, in which Rupert
and I had, with our own hands, constructed a rude summer-house, fit to
be enjoyed on just such an afternoon as this on which we had returned.
When distant from it only two hundred yards, we saw the girls enter the
wood, evidently taking the direction of the seat. At the same moment I
caught a glimpse of Neb moving up the road from the landing at a snail's
pace, as if the poor fellow dreaded to encounter the task before him.
After a moment's consultation, we determined to proceed at once to the
grove, and thus anticipate the account of Neb, who must pass so near the
summer-house as to be seen and recognised. We met with more obstacles
than we had foreseen or remembered, and when we got to a thicket close
in the rear of the bench, we found that the black was already in the
presence of his two “young mistresses.”
The appearance of the three, when I first caught a near view of them,
was such as almost to terrify me. Even Neb, whose face was usually as
shining as a black bottle, was almost of the colour of ashes. The poor
fellow could not speak, and, though Lucy was actually shaking him to
extract an explanation, the only answer she could get was tears. These
flowed from Neb's eyes in streams, and at length the fellow threw
himself on the ground, and fairly began to groan.
“Can this be shame at having run away?” exclaimed Lucy, “or does it
foretell evil to the boys?”
“He knows nothing of _them_, not having been with them--yet, I am
terrified.”
“Not on my account, dearest sister,” I cried aloud; “here are Rupert and
I, God be praised, both in good health, and safe.”
I took care to remain hid, as I uttered this, not to alarm more than one
sense at a time; but both the girls shrieked, and held out their arms.
Rupert and I hesitated no longer, but sprang forward. I know not how it
happened, though I found, on recovering my self-possession, that I was
folding Lucy to my heart, while Rupert was doing the same to Grace. This
little mistake, however, was soon rectified, each man embracing his
own sister, as in duty bound, and as was most decorous. The girls shed
torrents of tears, and assured us, again and again, that this was the
only really happy moment they had known since the parting on the
wharf, nearly a twelvemonth before. Then followed looks at each other,
exclamations of surprise and pleasure at the changes that had taken
place in the appearance of all parties, and kisses and tears again, in
abundance.
As for Neb, the poor fellow was seen in the road, whither he had fled
at the sound of my voice, looking at us like one in awe and doubt. Being
satisfied, in the end, of our identity, as well as of our being in the
flesh, the negro again threw himself on the ground, rolling over and
over, and fairly yelling with delight. After going through this process
of negro excitement, he leaped up on his feel, and started for the
house, shouting at the top of his voice, as if certain the good
intelligence he brought would secure his own pardon--“Master Miles come
home!--Master Miles come home!”
In a few minutes, quiet was sufficiently restored among us four,
who remained at the seat, to ask questions, and receive intelligible
answers. Glad was I to ascertain that the girls had been spared the news
of our loss. As for Mr. Hardinge, he was well, and busied, as usual, in
discharging the duties of his holy office. He had told Grace and Lucy
the name of the vessel in which we had shipped, but said nothing of the
painful glimpse he had obtained of us, just as we lifted our anchor, to
quit the port. Grace, in a solemn manner, then demanded an outline
of our adventures. As Rupert was the spokesman on this occasion,
the question having been in a manner put to him as oldest, I had an
opportunity of watching the sweet countenances of the two painfully
interested listeners. Rupert affected modesty in his narration, if he
did not feel it, though I remarked that he dwelt a little particularly
on the shot which had lodged so near him, in the head of the Tigris's
foremast. He spoke of the whistling it made as it approached, and the
violence of the blow when it struck. He had the impudence, too, to speak
of my good-luck in being on the other side of the top, when the shot
passed through my station; whereas I do believe that the shot passed
nearer to me than it did to himself. It barely missed me, and by all
I could learn Rupert was leaning over by the top-mast rigging when it
lodged. The fellow told his story in his own way, however, and with so
much unction that I observed it made Grace look pale. The effect on Lucy
was different. This excellent creature perceived my uneasiness, I half
suspected, for she laughed, and, interrupting her brother, told
him, “There--that's enough about the cannon-ball; now let us hear of
something else.” Rupert coloured, for he had frequently had such frank
hints from his sister, in the course of his childhood; but he had too
much address to betray the vexation I knew he felt.
To own the truth, my attachment for Rupert had materially lessened with
the falling off of my respect. He had manifested so much selfishness
during the voyage--had shirked so much duty, most of which had fallen on
poor Neb--and had been so little of the man, in practice, whom he used
so well to describe with his tongue--that I could no longer shut my eyes
to some of his deficiencies of character. I still liked him; but it was
from habit, and perhaps because he was my guardian's son, and Lucy's
brother. Then I could not conceal from myself that Rupert was not, in a
rigid sense, a lad of truth. He coloured, exaggerated, glossed over and
embellished, if he did not absolutely invent. I was not old enough then
to understand that most of the statements that float about the world
are nothing but truths distorted, and that nothing is more rare than
unadulterated fact; that truths and lies travel in company, as described
by Pope in his Temple of Fame, until--
“This or that unmixed, no mortal e'er shall find.”
In this very narration of our voyage, Rupert had left false impressions
on the minds of his listeners, in fifty things. He had made far more
of both our little skirmishes, than the truth would warrant, and he had
neglected to do justice to Neb in his account of each of the affairs.
Then he commended Captain Robbins's conduct in connection with the loss
of the John, on points that could not be sustained, and censured him for
measures that deserved praise. I knew Rupert was no seaman--was pretty
well satisfied, by this time, he never would make one--but I could not
explain all his obliquities by referring them to ignorance. The manner,
moreover, in which he represented himself as the principal actor, on all
occasions, denoted so much address, that, while I felt the falsity of
the impressions he left, I did not exactly see the means necessary to
counteract them. So ingenious, indeed, was his manner of stringing facts
and inferences together, or what _seemed_ to be facts and inferences,
that I more than once caught myself actually believing that which, in
sober reality, I knew to be false. I was still too young, not quite
eighteen, to feel any apprehensions on the subject of Grace; and was too
much accustomed to both Rupert and his sister, to regard either with any
feelings very widely different from those which I entertained for Grace
herself.
As soon as the history of our adventures and exploits was concluded, we
all had leisure to observe and comment on the alterations that time had
made in our several persons. Rupert, being the oldest, was the least
changed in this particular. He had got his growth early, and was only
a little spread. He had cultivated a pair of whiskers at sea, which
rendered his face a little more manly--an improvement, by the way--but,
the effects of exposure and of the sun excepted, there was no very
material change in his exterior. Perhaps, on the whole, he was improved
in appearance. I think both the girls fancied this, though Grace did not
say it, and Lucy only half admitted it, and that with many reservations.
As for myself, I was also full-grown, standing exactly six feet in my
stockings, which was pretty well for eighteen. But I had also spread; a
fact that is not common for lads at that age. Grace said I had lost all
delicacy of appearance; and as for Lucy, though she laughed and blushed
she protested I began to look like a great bear. To confess the truth,
I was well satisfied with my own appearance, did not envy Rupert a jot,
and knew I could toss him over my shoulder whenever I chose. I stood the
strictures on my appearance, therefore, very well; and, though no
one was so much derided and laughed at as myself, in that critical
discussion, no one cared less for it all. Just as I was permitted to
escape, Lucy said, in an under tone--
“You should have staid at home, Miles, and then the changes would have
come so gradually, no one would have noticed them, and you would have
escaped being told how much you are altered, and that you are a _bear_.”
I looked eagerly round at the speaker, and eyed her intently. A look of
regret passed over the dear creature's face, her eyes looked as penitent
as they did soft, and the flush that suffused her countenance rendered
this last expression almost bewitching. At the same instant she
whispered--“I did not really mean _that_.”
But it was Grace's turn, and my attention was drawn to my sister. A year
had made great improvements in Grace. Young as she was, she had lost
much of the girlish air, in the sedateness and propriety of the young
woman. Grace had always something more of these last than is common; but
they had now completely removed every appearance of childish, I might
almost say of girlish, frivolity. In person, her improvement was great;
though an air of exceeding delicacy rather left an impression that such
a being was more intended for another world, than this. There was ever
an air of fragility and of pure intellectuality about my poor sister,
that half disposed one to fancy that she would one day be translated to
a better sphere in the body, precisely as she stood before human eyes.
Lucy bore the examination well. She was all woman, there being nothing
about _her_ to create any miraculous expectations, or fanciful pictures;
but she was evidently fast getting to be a very lovely woman. Honest,
sincere, full of heart, overflowing with the feelings of her sex, gentle
yet spirited, buoyant though melting with the charities; her changeful,
but natural and yet constant feelings in her, kept me incessantly
in pursuit of her playful mind and varying humours. Still, a more
high-principled being, a firmer or more consistent friend, or a more
accurate thinker on all subjects that suited her years and became her
situation, than Lucy Hardinge, never existed. Even Grace was influenced
by her judgment, though I did not then know how much my sister's mind
was guided by her simple and less pretending friend's capacity to
foresee things, and to reason on their consequences.
We were more than an hour uninterruptedly together, before we thought
of repairing to the house. Lucy then reminded Rupert that he had not yet
seen his father, whom she had just before observed alighting from his
horse at the door of his own study. That he had been apprised of the
return of the runaways, if not prodigals, was evident, she thought, by
his manner; and it was disrespectful to delay seeking his forgiveness
and blessing. Mr. Hardinge received us both without surprise, and
totally without any show of resentment. It was about the time
he expected our return, and no surprise was felt at finding this
expectation realized, as a matter of course, while resentment was almost
a stranger to his nature. We all shed tears, the girls sobbing aloud;
and we were both solemnly blessed. Nor am I ashamed to say I knelt
to receive that blessing, in an age when the cant of a pretending
irreligion--there is as much cant in self-sufficiency as in hypocrisy,
and they very often go together--is disposed to turn into ridicule the
humbling of the person, while asking for the blessing of the Almighty
through the ministers of his altars; for kneel I did, and weep I did,
and, I trust, the one in humility and the other in contrition.
When we had all become a little calm, and a substantial meal was placed
before us adventurers, Mr. Hardinge demanded an account of all that had
passed. He applied to me to give it, and I was compelled to discharge
the office of an historian, somewhat against my inclination. There was
no remedy, however, and I told the story in my own simple manner, and
certainly in a way to leave very different impressions from many of
those made by the narrative of Rupert. I thought once or twice, as I
proceeded, that Lucy looked sorrowful, and Grace looked surprised. I do
not think I coloured in the least, as regarded myself, and I know I did
Neb no more than justice. My tale was soon told, for I felt the whole
time as if I were contradicting Rupert, who, by the way, appeared
perfectly unconcerned--perfectly unconscious, indeed--on the subject of
the discrepancies in the two accounts. I have since met with men who
did not know the truth when it was even placed very fairly before their
eyes.
Mr. Hardinge expressed his heartfelt happiness at having us back again,
and, soon after, he ventured to ask if we were satisfied with what we
had seen of the world. This was a home question, but I thought it best
to meet it manfully. So far from being satisfied, I told him it was my
ardent desire to get on board one of the letters-of-marque, of which
so many were then fitting out in the country, and to make a voyage to
Europe. Rupert, however, confessed he had mistaken his vocation, and
that he thought he could do no better than to enter a lawyer's office.
I was thunderstruck at this quiet admission of my friend, of his
incapacity to make a sailor, for it was the first intimation I heard
of his intention. I had remarked a certain want of energy, in various
situations that required action, in Rupert, but no want of courage; and
I had ascribed some portion of his lassitude to the change of condition,
and, possibly, of food; for, after all, that godlike creature, man, is
nothing but an animal, and is just as much influenced by his stomach and
digestion as a sheep, or a horse.
Mr. Hardinge received his son's intimation of a preference of
intellectual labours to a more physical state of existence, with a
gratification my own wishes did not afford him. Still, he made no
particular remark to either at the time, permitting us both to enjoy our
return to Clawbonny, without any of the drawbacks of advice or lectures.
The evening passed delightfully, the girls beginning to laugh heartily
at our own ludicrous accounts of the mode of living on board ship, and
of our various scenes in China, the Isle of Bourbon, and elsewhere.
Rupert had a great deal of humour, and a very dry way of exhibiting it;
in short, he was almost a genius in the mere superficialities of life;
and even Grace rewarded his efforts to entertain us, with laughter to
tears. Neb was introduced after supper, and the fellow was both censured
and commended; censured for having abandoned the household gods, and
commended for not having deserted their master. His droll descriptions
of the Chinese, their dress, pigtails, shoes and broken English,
diverted even Mr. Hardinge, who, I believe, felt as much like a boy on
this occasion, as any of the party. A happier evening than that which
followed in the little _tea_-parlour, as my dear mother used to call it,
was never passed in the century that the roof had covered the old walls
of Clawbonny.
Next day I had a private conversation with my guardian, who commenced
the discourse by rendering a sort of account of the proceeds of my
property during the past year. I listened respectfully, and with some
interest; for I saw the first gave Mr. Hardinge great satisfaction, and
I confess the last afforded some little pleasure to myself. I found that
things had gone on very prosperously. Ready money was accumulating, and
I saw that, by the time I came of age, sufficient cash would be on hand
to give me a ship of my own, should I choose to purchase one. From that
moment I was secretly determined to qualify myself to command her in the
intervening time. Little was said of the future, beyond an expression
of the hope, by my guardian, that I would take time to reflect before I
came to a final decision on the subject of my profession. To this I said
nothing beyond making a respectful inclination of the head.
For the next month, Clawbonny was a scene of uninterrupted merriment and
delight. We had few families to visit in our immediate neighbourhood,
it is true; and Mr. Hardinge proposed an excursion to the Springs--the
country was then too new, and the roads too bad, to think of
Niagara--but to this I would not listen. I cared not for the
Springs--knew little of, and cared less for fashion--and loved Clawbonny
to its stocks and stones. We remained at home, then, living principally
for each other. Rupert read a good deal to the girls, under the
direction of his father; while I passed no small portion of my time
in athletic exercises. The Grace & Lucy made one or two tolerably long
cruises in the river, and at length I conceived the idea of taking the
party down to town in the Wallingford. Neither of the girls had ever
seen New York, or much of the Hudson; nor had either ever seen a ship.
The sloops that passed up and down the Hudson, with an occasional
schooner, were the extent of their acquaintance with vessels; and I
began to feel it to be matter of reproach that those in whom I took so
deep an interest, should be so ignorant. As for the girls themselves,
they both admitted, now I was a sailor, that their desire to see a
regular, three-masted, full-rigged ship, was increased seven-fold.
Mr. Hardinge heard my proposition, at first, as a piece of pleasantry;
but Grace expressing a strong desire to see a large town, or what was
thought a large town in this country, in 1799, and Lucy looking wistful,
though she remained silent under an apprehension her father could not
afford the expense of such a journey, which her imagination rendered a
great deal more formidable than it actually proved to be, the excellent
divine finally acquiesced. The expense was disposed of in a very simple
manner. The journey, both ways, would be made in the Wallingford; and
Mr. Hardinge was not so unnecessarily scrupulous as to refuse passages
for himself and children in the sloop, which never exacted passage-money
from any who went to or from the farm. Food was so cheap, too, as to
be a matter of no consideration; and, being entitled legally to receive
that at Clawbonny, it made no great difference whether it were taken on
board the vessel, or in the house. Then there was a Mrs. Bradfort in
New York, a widow lady of easy fortune, who was a cousin-german of Mr.
Hardinge's--his father's sister's daughter--and with her he always staid
in his own annual visits to attend the convention of the Church--I beg
pardon, of the Protestant Episcopal Church, as it is now _de rigueur_
to say; I wonder some ultra does not introduce the manifest improvement
into the Apostles' Creed of saying, “I believe in the Holy Protestant
Episcopal Catholic Church, &c.”--but, the excellent divine, in his
annual attendance on the convention, was accustomed to stay with his
kinswoman, who often pressed him to bring both Lucy and Grace to
see her; her house in Wall street being abundantly large enough to
accommodate a much more numerous party. “Yes,” said Mr. Hardinge, “that
shall be the arrangement. The girls and I will stay with Mrs. Bradfort,
and the young men can live at a tavern. I dare say this new City Hotel,
which seems to be large enough to contain a regiment, will hold even
_them_. I will write this very evening to my cousin, so as not to take
her by surprise.”
In less than a week after this determination, an answer was received
from Mrs. Bradfort; and, the very next day, the whole party, Neb
included, embarked in the Wallingford. Very different was this passage
down the Hudson from that which had preceded it. Then I had the sense of
error about me, while my heart yearned towards the two dear girls we had
left on the wharf; but now everything was above-board sincere, and by
permission. It is scarcely necessary to say that Grace and Lucy were
enchanted with everything they saw. The Highlands, in particular, threw
them both into ecstasies, though I have since seen so much of the world
as to understand, with nearly all experienced tourists, that this is
_relatively_ the worst part of the scenery of this beautiful river. When
I say _relatively_, I mean as comparing the _bolder_ parts of our stream
with those of others--speaking of them as _high lands_--many other
portions of this good globe having a much superior _grandeur_, while
very few have so much lovely river scenery compressed into so small a
space as is to be found in the other parts of the Hudson.
In due time we arrived in New York, and I had the supreme happiness of
pointing out to the girls the State's Prison, the Bear Market, and the
steeples of St. Paul's and Trinity-_old_ Trinity, as it was so lately
the fashion to style a church that was built only a few years before,
and which, in my youth, was considered as magnificent as it was
venerable. That building has already disappeared; and another edifice,
which is now termed splendid, _vast_, and I know not what, has
been reared in its place. By the time this is gone, and one or two
generations of buildings have succeeded, each approaching nearer to the
high standard of church architecture in the old world, the Manhattanese
will get to understand something of the use of the degrees of comparison
on such subjects. When that day shall arrive, they will cease to be
provincial, and--not till then.
What a different thing was Wall street, in 1799, from what it is to-day?
Then, where so many Grecian temples are now reared to Plutus, were rows
of modest provincial dwellings; not a tittle more provincial, however,
than the thousand meretricious houses of bricks and marble that have
since started up in their neighbourhood, but far less pretending,
and insomuch the more creditable. Mrs. Bradfort lived in one of these
respectable abodes, and thither Mr. Hardinge led the way, with just as
much confidence as one would now walk into Bleeker street, or the Fifth
Avenue. Money-changers were then unknown, or, if known, were of so
little account that they had not sufficient force to form a colony and
a league by themselves. Even the banks did not deem it necessary to be
within a stone's throw of each other--I believe there were but two--as
it might be in self-defence. We have seen all sorts of expedients
adopted, in this sainted street, to protect the money-bags, from the
little temple that was intended to be so small as only to admit the
dollars and those who were to take care of them, up to the edifice that
might contain so many rogues, as to render things safe on the familiar
principle of setting a thief to catch a thief. All would not do. The
difficulty has been found to be unconquerable, except in those cases in
which the homely and almost worn-out expedient of employing honest men,
has been resorted to. But, to return from the gossipings of old age to
an agreeable widow, who was still under forty.
Mrs. Bradfort received Mr. Hardinge in a way to satisfy us all that she
was delighted to see him. She had prepared a room for Rupert and myself,
and no apologies or excuses would be received. We had to consent to
accept of her hospitalities. In an hour's time, all were established,
and I believe all were at home.
I shall not dwell on the happiness that succeeded. We were all too young
to go to parties, and, I might almost add, New York itself was too young
to have any; but in the last I should have been mistaken, though there
were not as many _children's_ balls in 1799, perhaps, after allowing for
the difference in population, as there are to-day. If too young to be
company, we were not too young to see sights. I sometimes laugh as I
remember what these were at that time. There was such a museum as would
now be thought lightly of in a western city of fifteen or twenty years'
growth--a circus kept by a man of the name of Ricketts--the theatre
in John street, a very modest Thespian edifice--and a lion, I mean
literally the beast, that was kept in a cage quite out of town, that
his roaring might not disturb people, somewhere near the spot where the
_triangle_ that is called Franklin _Square_ now is. All these we saw,
even to the theatre; good, indulgent Mr. Hardinge seeing no harm in
letting us go thither under the charge of Mrs. Bradfort. I shall never
forget the ecstasy of that night! The novelty was quite as great to
Rupert and myself as it was to the girls; for, though we had been to
China, we had never been to the play.
Well was it said, “Vanity, vanity--all is vanity!” He that lives as long
as I have lived, will have seen most of his opinions, and I think I
may add, _all_ his tastes, change. Nothing short of revelation has
a stronger tendency to convince us of the temporary character of our
probationary state in this world, than to note for how short a period,
and for what imperfect ends, all our hopes and success in life have been
buoying us up, and occupying our minds. After fifty, the delusion begins
to give way; and, though we may continue to live, and even to be happy,
blind indeed must be he who does not see the end of his road, and
foresee some of the great results to which it is to lead. But of all
this, our quartette thought little in the year 1799.