"Dejection pales thy rosy cheek,
And steals the lustre from thine eye;
The minutes of each tedious hour,
Are mark'd by sad anxiety:
"And all thy soft, endearing smiles,
That spoke with such expressive grace,
Alas! are fled, and only care
Is seen upon that pensive face."
[_NY Weekly_: On the recovery of an Only Child from the Small-pox,
lines 1-8:
When sickness pal'd thy rosy cheek,
And stole the lustre from thine eye,
The minutes of each tedious hour
Were mark'd by sad anxiety.
For all thy soft endearing smiles,
Which spoke with such expressive grace,
Alas! were fled, and only pain
Was trac'd upon thy cherub face.]
The sublime works of nature had shed abroad their cheering influences,
and the mild and salubrious breezes of spring had succeeded to the
blustering gales of winter. The parents of Alida made preparation to
return to the country. Alida's father was declining in health. He had
imparted to his son his wish for him to close and settle his mercantile
affairs in the city, (as the times were dreary,) and return to the
paternal estate. In the meantime, Albert's assistance was necessary to
alleviate his father, as he was now advanced in years, and had
principally relinquished all public business, except attending to its
calls only when requested in cases of emergency.
[_Alida_ page 153 (chapter XX):
He had long wished him to close his affairs of business in the city,
and settle himself on the paternal estate.]
[_Alida_ page 206 (chapter XXIX):
It had long been the wish of his parent, that he should close his
business in New-York, and settle himself on the paternal estate.]
[_Lives of Signers_: Thornton of New Hampshire:
Being advanced in years, he principally relinquished the business of
his medical profession, attending to its calls only when requested
in cases of special urgency.]
Mr. Bolton had been with the family several days, and attended them on
board the steamboat. One would scarcely suppose that so interesting an
exterior as his, blended with highly polished manners, should not have
made some impression on the mind of Alida if her heart had been
disengaged. Besides, he was a person too amiable not to be esteemed. His
ideas with regard to Alida were altogether sanguine. He believed, as
soon as he should ask the consent of her parents, he would easily obtain
his wishes. He considered his own fortune already sufficient, without
seeking more in the din of business. And he possessed many other
advantages which pleaded in his favour. With these hopes of assured
success, he made proposals to her father. The manner in which her father
replied to him was altogether discouraging, which excluded the hope of
his ever gaining the hand of his daughter by his consent. This denial
was a sensible cause of chagrin to Mr. Bolton, but yet it did not
discourage him.
The impatience sometimes of obtaining a thing which is refused to us,
renders it still more desirable, and the heart is never in a greater
flutter than when it is agitated with the fear of losing the object it
most wishes to gain. Moreover, he believed that Alida was already
interested in his favour, and he determined to suggest to her, the first
opportunity, the plan to elope with him, and thus put it out of the
power of her father to impede their happiness.
The day was calm and serene, and the air invigorating. The steam-boat
floated slowly upon the waters in monotonous movement. There was music
on board. A company of militia were going to the village of ----, where
they usually paraded the town for several hours, took dinner at the
hotel, and then returned again to the city.
Alida remained on deck nearly the whole way, to be a spectator of the
various, beautiful landscapes that presented themselves on the river,
particularly at this season of the year. A gentle breeze sprung up as
they passed the little islands at the entrance of the bay, on whose
glassy surface the sun shone with meridian splendour, illustrating the
peculiar beauty of the diversified scenery. In the course of a few hours
they arrived at the village of ----, where they obtained a conveyance to
take them on to their family residence, where they arrived some time in
the afternoon.
[[The phrase "shone with meridian splendour" is widely quoted
from Boswell's _Life of Johnson_.]]
Although all nature was smiling around, and the variegated landscape
never appeared more enchanting, birds of every description were seen
chirping on the spray, and the trees resounded with their sportive
melody, and Alida might still have been happy if she had never become
acquainted with Theodore; yet while she had the appearance of serenity,
she still cherished a secret uneasiness. She had never received any
intelligence concerning him since they had last parted. She imagined
herself altogether forgotten, as Bonville had frequently suggested.
Besides, he had represented Theodore as worthless. Harrassed and
oppressed by a thousand different conjectures, she could scarcely
support herself under them with any degree of resignation.
In this frame of mind, in serious meditation, she took a seat by the
window. The sun was declining slowly beneath the horizon to gladden
other regions. The spire of the village church was tipped with gold, and
the resplendent rays reflected from the window dazzled the eye. Above
was the azure vault variegated with fleecy clouds; beneath was nature's
verdant carpet. The little songsters of the adjoining grove were paying
their tribute of praise in melodious strains. The bleating of the lambs,
and the lowing of the milky train, re-echoed from the fields and
valleys; while the gentle murmuring of the water-fall at the mill, with
its rumbling cadence over the dam, was heard at a little distance.
[_NY Weekly_: A Fragment, after the manner of J. Y. (abbreviated
"Fragment JY"):
The sun was retiring behind a lofty ridge of mountains to gladden
other regions; the towering spires of the village churches were tipt
with gold; while the resplendent rays reflected from the windows
dazzled the eye. Above was the azure vault, variegated with fleecy
clouds; beneath was Nature's verdant carpet. The little songsters of
the grove were paying their tributes of praise in melodious strains;
the bleatings of the lambs, and the lowings of the milky mothers
re-echoed from the vallies.]
[_Alida_ page 166 (chapter XXIII):
The rumbling water-fall was again heard at the mill....]
"How still is nature," said Alida. "The sun has withdrawn his radiance,
yet the gleam from yonder western sky bespeaks him still at hand,
promising to return with his reviving warmth when nature is refreshed
with darkness. The bay is already beginning to be silvered over by the
mild rays of the queen of night. Gently she steals on the world, while
she bestows on us her borrowed splendour. She lights the wandering
traveller, she warms the earth with gentle heat. She dazzles not the eye
of the philosopher, but invites him to contemplate and admire. Scarcely
a breeze is stirring; the shadow of each tree remains undisturbed; the
unruffled bay and river glide smoothly on, reflecting nature's face.
Again the attention is drawn, and the eye wanders to yon vast concave,
where the mind follows in silent wonder, wandering among the planets,
till, struck with beauty of the whole, it acknowledges 'the Hand that
made it is divine.'
[_NY Weekly_: An Evening Meditation:
Now all is hushed, and nature seems to make a pause; the sun has
withdrawn his radiance, yet the gloom [_sic_] from yonder western
sky bespeaks him still at hand, promising to return with his
reviving warmth, when nature is refreshed with darkness.]
[_NY Weekly_: Fragment JY:
The waters of a gently murmuring stream, which ran by the foot of a
mountain, were silvered o'er by the mild rays of the queen of night.
The soothing sound of a distant cataract gently saluted the car. The
fragrant oders of flowers, watered by gentle zephyrs, breath'd a
delightful perfume.]
[_NY Weekly_: An Evening Meditation:
The moon borrows her light, and bestows it upon us; she arises in
silent majesty, humbly waiting to reign when he resigns his throne.
No chorus ushers in his reign, no rays pronounce her approach;
gently she steals on the world, and sits in silent majesty to view
the good she does. She lights the wandering traveller, she warms the
earth with gentle heat, she dazzles not the eye of the philosopher,
but invites him to view and to admire--How still is nature! not a
breeze! each tree enjoys its shadow undisturbed, the unruffled
rivers glide smoothly on reflecting nature's face ...
...
Oh see, by night, beauties transcendant and glorious; such as draw
up the eye to yon vast concave, where the mind's eye follows in
silent wonder, quickly passing from star to star, till struck with
the beauty of the whole, it feels "the hand that made it is
divine."]
"Surely," said Alida, "all nature conspires to calm the mind, to restore
tranquillity, to soften every care and corroding thought. But what can
ease the troubled mind, which, like the angry sea, after agitation by
blustering winds, 'tis still tumultuous?" Where now, thought she, is
Theodore? What sadness and difficulty may not his noble and generous
spirit have had to encounter! His tender sensibility, his serene and
pacific disposition, may have had numerous trials; and how unhappy he
may be, who was ever ardent in his endeavours to communicate peace and
happiness to others! When she reflected upon all his goodness, his
zealous piety, his religious sentiments the same as her own, and
recalled to her memory happier days, when she had listened with pleasure
to the powerful eloquence of a corresponding spirit. And her esteem for
him rose higher, while he commented on religious truths, and bade her
place a firm dependence on Divine Providence. Amid these uneasy
sensations, which filled the bosom of Alida with anxiety and grief, and
left her mind in a state of despondency, the period arrived for the
celebration of her father's birth-day, which brought with it, as usual,
much company from the city, from the neighbouring village, with the
parish minister and his family.
[_NY Weekly_: Fragment JY:
Surely, says Amelia, all nature conspires to calm the mind, to
restore tranquility, to soften every care. But what can ease the
torture of a love-sick soul; like the angry sea after agitation by
blustering winds, 'tis still tumultuous.]
After her several sisters had arrived, and nearly all the company had
collected, Alida entered the drawing-room with spirits somewhat
re-animated. Bonville was already there. He arose and handed her to a
seat. He accompanied the first salutations with many flattering
compliments, but with all his endeavours to win her favour, he could not
awaken even a temporary regard in the bosom of Alida. In the meantime,
she had full leisure to observe his singular behaviour, to listen to his
insinuating address, to hear him mention the name of Theodore, and when
he observed her feelings were excited, to hear him suddenly change the
subject. He sometimes appeared to regard her with an eye of pity, but it
arose from a consciousness of his own errors, bordering on baseness. He
felt unhappy at his own want of integrity, and his heart reproached him
with injustice and treachery.