_Harrington_ to _Worthy_.
_Boston._
I CANNOT but laugh at your dull sermons, and yet I find
something in them altogether displeasing; for this reason I permit you
to prate on. “Weigh matters maturely!” Ha! ha! why art thou not arrayed
in canonicals? “What do I design to do with her?” Upon my word, my
sententious friend, you ask mighty odd questions. I see you aim a stroke
at the foundation upon which the pillar of my new system is reared—and
will you strive to batter down that pillar? If you entertain any idea of
executing such talk, I foresee it will never succeed, and advise you
timely to desist. What! dost thou think to topple down my scheme of
pleasure? Thou mightest as well topple down the pike of _Teneriffe_.
I SUPPOSE you will be ready to ask, why, if I love _Harriot_, I do not
marry her—Your monitorial correspondence has so accustomed me to
reproof, that I easily anticipate this piece of impertinence—But who
shall I marry? That is the question. _Harriot_ has no father—no
mother—neither is there aunt, cousin, or kindred of any degree who claim
any kind of relationship to her. She is companion to Mrs. _Francis_,
and, as I understand, totally dependent on that lady. Now, Mr. _Worthy_,
I must take the liberty to acquaint you, that I am not so much of a
republican as formally to wed any person of this class. How laughable
would my conduct appear, were I to trace over the same ground marked out
by thy immaculate footsteps—To be heard openly acknowledged for my bosom
companion, my daughter of the democratick empire of virtue!
TO suppose a smart, beautiful girl, would continue as companion to the
best lady in Christendom, when she could raise herself to a more
eligible situation, is to suppose a solecism—She might as well be
immured in a nunnery. Now, _Jack_, I will shew you my benevolent scheme;
it is to take this beautiful sprig, and transplant it to a more
favorable soil, where it shall flourish and blossom under my own
auspices. In a word, I mean to remove this fine girl into an elegant
apartment, of which she herself is to be the sole mistress. Is this not
a proof of my humanity and goodness of heart? But I know the purport of
your answer—So pray thee keep thy comments to thyself, and be sparing of
your compliments on this part of my conduct—for I do not love flattery.
A month has elapsed since my arrival in town. What will the revolution
of another moon bring forth?
Your &c.