have thus forgotten myself so far as to chastise on the spot a
contemptible villain. Let us convey Miss Bentley up the bank, for she
seems greatly agitated, and I will then explain to the gentlemen the
extraordinary scene they have just witnessed."
"Only hear Mr. Smith, how he's talking out!" exclaimed Aunt Quimby. "And
there's the baron-fellow putting up his coat collar and sneaking off
round the corner of the bank. I'm so glad he's turned out a scamp!"
Having reached the top of the bank, Matilda Bentley, who had nearly
fainted, was laid on a bench and consigned to the care of her mother and
sisters. A flood of tears came to her relief, and while she was
indulging in them, Mrs. Bentley joined the group who were assembled
round Mr. Smith and listening to his narrative.
Mr. Smith explained that he knew this _soi-disant_ Baron Von Klingenberg
to be an impostor and a swindler. That he had, some years since, under
another name, made his appearance in Paris, as an American gentleman of
German origin, and large fortune; but soon gambled away all his money.
That he afterwards, under different appellations, visited the principal
cities of the continent, but always left behind the reputation of a
swindler. That he had seen him last in London, in the capacity of valet
to the real Baron Von Klingenberg, who, intending a visit to the United
States, had hired him as being a native of America, and familiar with
the country and its customs. But an unforeseen circumstance having
induced that gentleman to relinquish this transatlantic voyage, his
American valet robbed him of a large sum of money and some valuable
jewels, stole also the letters of introduction which had been obtained
by the real Baron, and with them had evidently been enabled to pass
himself for his master. To this explanation, Mr. Smith added that while
wandering among the trees on the edge of the bank, he had seen the
impostor on the beach below, endeavouring to persuade Miss Bentley to an
elopement with him; proposing that they should repair immediately to a
place in the neighbourhood, where the railroad cars stopped on their way
to New York, and from thence proceed to that city, adding,--"You know
there is no overtaking a railroad car, so all pursuit of us will be in
vain; besides, when once married all will be safe, as you are of age and
mistress of your own fortune." "Finding," continued Mr. Smith, "that he
was likely to succeed in persuading Miss Bentley to accompany him, I
could no longer restrain my indignation, which prompted me to rush down
the bank and adopt summary measures in rescuing the young lady from the
hands of so infamous a scoundrel, whom nothing but my unwillingness to
disturb the company prevented me from exposing as soon as I saw him."
"Don't believe him," screamed Mrs. Blake Bentley; "Mr. Smith indeed! Who
is to take _his_ word? Who knows what Mr. Smith is?"
"I do," said a voice from the crowd; and there stepped forward a
gentlemen, who had arrived in a chaise with a friend about half an hour
before. "I had the pleasure of knowing him intimately in England, when I
was minister to the court of St. James's."
"May be you bought your tins at his shop," said Aunt Quimby.
The ex-ambassador in a low voice exchanged a few words with Mr. Smith;
and then taking his hand, presented him as the Earl of Huntingford,
adding, "The only tin he deals in is that produced by his extensive
mines in Cornwall."
The whole company were amazed into a silence of some moments: after
which there was a general buzz of favourable remark; Captain Cheston
shook hands with him, and all the gentlemen pressed forward to be more
particularly introduced to Lord Huntingford.
"Dear me!" said Aunt Quimby; "to think that I should have been so
sociable with a lord--and a real one too--and to think how he drank tea
at Billy Fairfowl's in the back parlour, and ate bread and butter just
like any other man--and how he saved Jane, and picked up Johnny--I
suppose I must not speak to you now, Mr. Smith, for I don't know how to
begin calling you my lord. And you don't seem like the same man, now
that you can look and talk like other people: and (excuse my saying so)
even your dress looks genteeler."
"Call me still Mr. Smith, if you choose," replied Lord Huntingford; and,
turning to Captain Cheston, he continued--"Under that name I have had
opportunities of obtaining much knowledge of your _unique_ and
interesting country:--knowledge that will be useful to me all the
remainder of my life, and that I could not so well have acquired in my
real character."
He then explained, that being tired of travelling in Europe, and having
an earnest desire to see America thoroughly, and more particularly to
become acquainted with the state of society among the middle classes
(always the truest samples of national character), he had, on taking his
passage in one of the Liverpool packets, given his name as Smith, and
put on the appearance of a man in very common life, resolving to
preserve his incognito as long as he could. His object being to observe
and to listen, and fearing that if he talked much he might inadvertently
betray himself, he endeavoured to acquire a habit of taciturnity. As is
frequently the case, he rather overdid his assumed character: and was
much amused at perceiving himself rated somewhat below mediocrity, and
regarded as poor Mr. Smith.
"But where is that Baron fellow?" said Mrs. Quimby; "I dare say he has
sneaked off and taken the railroad himself, while we were all busy about
Lord Smith."
"He has--he has!" sobbed Miss Bentley; who in spite of her grief and
mortification, had joined the group that surrounded the English
nobleman; "and he has run away with my beautiful diamond ring."
"Did he steal it from your finger?" asked Aunt Quimby, eagerly; "because
if he did, you can send a constable after him."
"I shall do no such thing," replied Matilda, tartly; then turning to her
mother she added, "It was when we first went to walk by the river side.
He took my hand and kissed it, and proposed exchanging rings--and so I
let him have it--and he said he did not happen to have any ring of his
own about him, but he would give me a magnificent one that had been
presented to him by some emperor or king."
"Now I think of it," exclaimed Mrs. Bentley, "he never gave me back my
gold essence-bottle with the emerald stopper."
"Now I remember," said Miss Turretville, "he did not return me the
beautiful fan he took out of my hand the other evening at Mrs. De
Mingle's. And I doubt also if he restored her diamond opera glass to the
Princess of Saxe Blinkinberg."
"The Princess of Saxe Fiddlestick!" exclaimed Aunt Quimby; "do you
suppose he ever really had anything to do with such people? Between
ourselves, I thought it was all fudge the whole time he was trying to
make us believe he was hand and glove with women that had crowns on
their heads, and men with diamond coats, and kings that shot peach
stones. The more he talked, the more he looked like Jacob Stimbel--I'm
not apt to forget people, so it would be strange if I did not remember
our Jake; and I never saw a greater likeness."
"Well, for my part," said Miss Turretville, candidly, "I really _did_
think he had serfs, and a castle with ramparts, and I did believe in the
banditti, and the captain just like Charles De Moor. And I grieved, as I
often do, that here, in America, we had no such things."
"Pity we should!" remarked Aunt Quimby.
To be brief: the Bentleys, after what had passed, thought it best to
order their carriage and return to the city: and on their ride home
there was much recrimination between the lady and her eldest daughter;
Matilda declaring, that she would never have thought of encouraging the
addresses of such an ugly fellow as the baron, had not her mother first
put it into her head. And as to the projected elopement, she felt very
certain of being forgiven for that as soon as she came out a baroness.
After the departure of the Bentleys, and when the excitement, caused by
the events immediately preceding it, had somewhat subsided, it was
proposed that the dancing should be resumed, and Lord Huntingford opened
the ball with Mrs. Cheston, and proved that he could dance, and talk,
and look extremely well. As soon as she was disengaged, he solicited
Myrtilla's hand for the nest set, and she smilingly assented to his
request. Before they began, Aunt Quimby took an opportunity of saying to
her: "Well, Myrtilla; after all you are going to exhibit yourself, as
you call it, with Mr. Smith."
"Oh! Aunt Quimby, you must not remember anything that was said about him
while he was incog--"
"Yes, and now he's out of cog it's thought quite an honour to get a word
or a look from him. Well--well--whether as poor simple Mr. Smith, or a
great lord that owns whole tin mines, he'll always find _me_ exactly the
same; now I've got over the first flurry of his being found out."
"I have no doubt of that, Aunt Quimby," replied Myrtilla, giving her
hand to Lord Huntingford, who just then came up to lead her to the
dance.
The afternoon passed rapidly away, with infinite enjoyment to the whole
company; all of whom seemed to feel relieved by the absence of the Blake
Bentley party. Aunt Quimby was very assiduous in volunteering to
introduce ladies to Lord Smith, as she called him, and chaperoned him
more than ever.
The Chestons, perfectly aware that if Mrs. Quimby returned to
Philadelphia, and proceeded to Baltimore under the escort of Mr. Smith,
she would publish all along the road that he was a lord, and perhaps
convert into annoyance the amusement he seemed to find in her entire
want of tact, persuaded her to defer the Baltimore journey and pass a
few days with them; promising to provide her with an escort there, in
the person of an old gentleman of their neighbourhood, who was going to
the south early next week; and whom they knew to be one of the mildest
men in the world, and never incommoded by anything.
When the fête was over, Lord Huntingford returned to the city with his
friend, the ex-minister. At parting, he warmly expressed his delight at
having had an opportunity of becoming acquainted with Captain Cheston
and his ladies; and Aunt Quimby exclaimed, "It's all owing to me--if it
had not been for me you might never have known them; I always had the
character of bringing good luck to people: so it's no wonder I'm so
welcome everywhere."
On Captain Cheston's next visit to Philadelphia, he gathered that the
fictitious Baron Von Klingenberg was really the reprobate son of Jacob
Stimbel of Lancaster, and had been recognised as such by a gentleman
from that place. That he had many years before gone to seek his fortune
in Europe, with the wreck of some property left him by his father; where
(as Lord Huntingford had stated) he had last been seen in London in the
capacity of a valet to a German nobleman; and that now he had departed
for the west, with the design, as was supposed, of gambling his way to
New Orleans. Nothing could exceed the delight of Aunt Quimby on finding
her impression of him so well corroborated.
The old lady went to Baltimore, and found herself so happy with her dear
crony Mrs. Bagnell, that she concluded to take up her permanent
residence with her on the same terms on which she lived at her
son-in-law Billy Fairfowl's, whose large family of children had, to say
the truth, latterly caused her some inconvenience by their number and
their noise; particularly as one of the girls was growing up so like her
grandmother, as to out-talk her. Aunt Quimby's removal from Philadelphia
to Baltimore was, of course, a sensible relief to the Chestons.
Lord Huntingford (relinquishing the name and character of Mr. Smith)
devoted two years to making the tour of the United States, including a
visit to Canada; justly believing that he could not in less time
accomplish his object of becoming _well_ acquainted with the country and
the people. On his return through the Atlantic cities, he met with
Captain Cheston at Norfolk, where he had just brought in his ship from a
cruise in the Pacific. Both gentlemen were glad to renew their
acquaintance; and they travelled together to Philadelphia, where they
found Mrs. Cheston and Myrtilla waiting to meet the captain.
Lord Huntingford became a constant visitor at the house of the Chestons.
He found Myrtilla improved in beauty, and as he thought in everything
else, and he felt that in all his travels through Europe and America,
he had met with no woman so well calculated to insure his happiness in
married life. The sister of Captain Cheston was too good a republican to
marry a foreigner and a nobleman, merely on account of his rank and
title: but Lord Huntingford, as a man of sense, feeling, and unblemished
morality, was one of the best specimens of his class, and after an
intimate acquaintance of two months, she consented to become his
countess. They were married a few days before their departure for
England, where Captain and Mrs. Cheston promised to make them a visit
the ensuing spring.
Emily Atwood and Mr. Symmington were bridesmaid and groomsman, and were
themselves united the following month. Miss Turretville made a very
advantageous match, and has settled down into a rational woman and a
first-rate housewife. The Miss Bentleys are all single yet; but their
mother is married to an Italian singer, who is dissipating her property
as fast as he can, and treating her ill all the time.
While in Philadelphia, Lord Huntingford did not forget to visit
occasionally his early acquaintance, Mr. William Fairfowl (who always
received him as if he was still Mr. Smith), and on leaving the city he
presented an elegant little souvenir to Mrs. Fairfowl, and one to each
of her daughters.
At Lord Huntingford's desire, Mrs. Quimby was invited from Baltimore to
be present at his wedding (though the company was small and select), and
she did honour to the occasion by wearing an entirely new gown and cap,
telling the cost of them to every person in the room, but declaring she
did not grudge it in the least; and assuming to herself the entire
credit of the match, which she averred never would have taken place if
she had not happened to come up the river, instead of going down.
The events connected with the picnic day, had certainly one singular
effect on Aunt Quimby, who from that time protested that she always
thought of a nobleman whenever she heard the name of Smith.
Could all our readers give in their experience of the numerous Smiths
they must have known and heard of, would not many be found who, though
bearing that trite appellation, were noblemen of nature's own making?
UNCLE PHILIP.
"Out spake that ancient mariner."--COLERIDGE.
We will not be particular in designating the exact site of the
flourishing village of Corinth; neither would we advise any of our
readers to take the trouble of seeking it on the map. It is sufficient
to tell them that they may consider it located on one of the banks of
the Hudson, somewhere above the city of New York, and somewhere below
that of Albany; and that, more than twenty years ago, the Clavering
family occupied one of the best houses at its southern extremity.
Mrs. Clavering was the widow of a storekeeper, who had always, by
courtesy, been called a merchant, according to a prevailing custom in
the provincial towns of America. Her husband had left her in affluent
circumstances, and to each of her five children he had bequeathed a
sufficient portion to furnish, when they came of age, an outfit for the
girls and a beginning for the boys. Added to this, they had considerable
expectations from an uncle of their mother's, a retired sea-captain, and
a confirmed old bachelor, who had long been in the practice of paying
the family an annual visit on returning from his India voyages. He had
become so much attached to the children, that when he quitted the sea
(which was soon after the death of Mr. Clavering) he had, at the request
of his niece, removed to Corinth, and taken up his residence in her
family.
Though so far from his beloved element, the ocean, Captain Kentledge
managed to pass his time very contentedly, taking occasional trips down
the river to New York (particularly when a new ship was to be launched),
and performing, every summer, an excursion to the eastward: keeping
closely along the coast, and visiting in turn every maritime town and
village from Newport to Portland; never omitting to diverge off to
Nantucket, which was his native place, and from whence, when a boy, he
had taken his first voyage in a whale ship.
Uncle Philip (for so Captain Kentledge was familiarly called by Mrs.
Clavering and her children) was a square-built man, with a broad
weather-beaten face, and features the reverse of classical. His head was
entirely bald, with the exception of two rough side-locks, and a long
thin gray tress of hair, gathered into a queue, and secured with black
ribbon. Uncle Philip was very tenacious of his queue.
Like most seamen when on shore, he was singularly neat in his dress. He
wore, all the year round, a huge blue coat, immense blue trowsers, and a
white waistcoat of ample dimensions, the whole suit being decorated with
gold buttons; for, as he observed, he had, in the course of his life,
worn enough of brass buttons to be heartily tired of them: gilt ones he
hated, because they were shams; and gold he could very well afford, and
therefore it was his pleasure to have them. His cravat was a large black
silk handkerchief, tied in front, with a spreading bow and long ends.
His shirt frill was particularly conspicuous and amazingly broad, and it
was fastened with a large oval-shaped brooch, containing under its glass
a handsome hair-coloured device of Hope leaning on an anchor. He never
wore boots, but always white stockings and well-blacked long-quartered
shoes. His hat had both a wide crown and a wide brim. Every part of his
dress was good in quality and large in quantity, denoting that he was
above economizing in the material.
Though "every inch a sailor," it must not be supposed that Captain
Kentledge was in the constant habit of interlarding his conversation
with sea-terms; a practice which, if it ever actually prevailed to the
extent that has been represented in fictitious delineations of "the sons
of the wild and warring wave," has long since been discontinued in real
life, by all nautical men who have any pretensions to the title of
gentlemen. A sea-captain, whose only phraseology was that of the
forecastle, and who could talk of nothing without reference to the
technical terms of his profession, would now be considered as obsolete a
character "as the Lieutenant Bowlings and Commodore Trunnions of the
last century."
Next to the children of his niece, the object most beloved by Uncle
Philip was an enormous Newfoundland dog, the companion of his last
voyages, and his constant attendant on land and on water, in doors and
out of doors. In the faces of Neptune and his master there was an
obvious resemblance, which a physiognomist would have deduced from the
similarity of their characters; and it was remarked by one of the wags
of the village that the two animals walked exactly alike, and held out
their paws to strangers precisely in the same manner.
Mrs. Clavering, as is generally the case with mothers of the present
day, when they consider themselves very genteel, intended one of her
sons for the profession of physic, and the other for that of law. But in
the mean time, Uncle Philip had so deeply imbued Sam, the eldest, with a
predilection for the sea, that the boy's sole ambition was to unite
himself to that hardy race, "whose march is o'er the mountain-waves,
whose home is on the deep." And Dick, whom his mother designed for a
lawyer, intended himself for a carpenter: his genius pointing decidedly
to hand-work rather than to head-work. It was Uncle Philip's opinion
that boys should never be controlled in the choice of a profession. Yet
he found it difficult to convince Mrs. Clavering that there was little
chance of one of her sons filling a professor's chair at a medical
college, or of the other arriving at the rank of chief justice; but that
as the laws of nature and the decrees of fate were not to be reversed,
Dick would very probably build the ships that Sam would navigate.
About three months before the period at which our story commences, Uncle
Philip had set out on his usual summer excursion, and had taken with him
not only Neptune, but Sam also, leaving Dick very much engaged in making
a new kitchen-table with a drawer at each end. After the travellers had
gone as far as the State of Maine, and were supposed to be on their
return, Mrs. Clavering was surprised to receive a letter from Uncle
Philip, dated "Off Cape Cod, lat. 42, lon. 60, wind N.N.E." The
following were the words of this epistle:--
"DEAR NIECE KITTY CLAVERING: I take this opportunity of informing
you, by a fishing-boat that is just going into the harbour, that
being on Long Wharf, Boston, yesterday at 7 A. M., and finding
there the schooner Winthrop about to sail for Cuba, and the
schooner being commanded by a son of my old ship-mate, Ben
Binnacle, and thinking it quite time that Sam should begin to see
the world (as he was fifteen the first of last April), and that so
good an opportunity should not be lost, I concluded to let him have
a taste of the sea by giving him a run down to the West Indies. Sam
was naturally very glad, and so was Neptune; and Sam being under my
care, I, of course, felt in duty bound to go along with him. The
schooner Winthrop is as fine a sea-boat as ever swam, and young Ben
Binnacle is as clever a fellow as his father. We are very well off
for hands, the crew being young Ben's brother and three of his
cousins (all from Marblehead, and all part owners), besides Sam and
myself, and Neptune, and black Bob, the cabin-boy. So you have
nothing to fear. And even if we should have a long passage, there
is no danger of our starving, for most of the cargo is pork and
onions, and the rest is turkeys, potatoes, flour, butter, and
cheese.
"You may calculate on finding Sam greatly improved by the voyage.
Going to sea will cure him of all his awkward tricks, as you call
them, and give him an opportunity of showing what he really is. He
went out of Boston harbour perched on the end of the foresail boom,
and was at the mainmast head before we had cleared the light-house.
To-morrow I shall teach him to take an observation. Young Ben
Binnacle has an excellent quadrant that was his father's. We shall
be back in a few weeks, and bring you pine-apples and parrots.
Shall write from Havana, if I have time.
"Till then, yours,
"PHILIP KENTLEDGE.
"P. S. Neptune is very happy at finding himself at sea again. Give
our love to Dick and the girls.
"N. B. We took care to have our trunk brought on board before we
got under way. Though we have a stiff breeze, Sam is not yet
sea-sick, having set his face against it.
"2d P. S. Don't take advantage of my absence to put the girls in
corsets, as you did when I was away last summer.
"2d N. B. Remember to send old Tom Tarpaulin his weekly allowance
of tobacco all the time I am gone. You know I promised, when I
first found him at Corinth, to keep him in tobacco as long as he
lived; and if you forget to furnish it punctually, the poor fellow
will be obliged to take his own money to buy it with."
This elopement, as Mrs. Clavering called it, caused at first great
consternation in the family, but she soon consoled herself with the idea
that 'twas well it was no worse, for if Uncle Philip had found a vessel
going to China, commanded by an old ship-mate, or a ship-mate's son, he
would scarcely have hesitated to have acted as he had done in this
instance. The two younger girls grieved that in all probability Sam had
gone without gingerbread, which, they had heard, was a preventive to
sea-sickness; but Fanny, the elder, remarked that it was more probable
he had his pockets full, as, from Uncle Philip's account, he continued
perfectly well. "Whatever Uncle Philip may say," observed Fanny, very
judiciously, "Sam must, of course, have known that gingerbread is a more
certain remedy for sea-sickness than merely setting one's face against
it." Dick's chief regret was, that not knowing beforehand of their trip
to the West Indies, he had lost the opportunity of sending by them for
some mahogany.