a man about forty years old, of excellent education, polished manners,
and a fine military deportment. He was accompanied by his family, and
they excited much sympathy among the ladies and gentlemen of the cabin.
He had a wife, a handsome, modest, and intelligent looking woman, and
five very pretty children, three boys and two girls. Being reduced to
half-pay, seeing no chance of promotion, and weary of living on "hope
deferred that maketh the heart sick," Lieutenant Lynford had resolved to
emigrate, and settle on a grant of land accorded to him in Canada in
consequence of his having been in service there during our last war. He
believed that the new world would offer better prospects to his
children, and that he could there support his family at less expense
than in Europe. Unable to afford the cost of their passage in the cabin,
he was under the painful necessity of bringing them over in the
steerage, amidst all its unimaginable and revolting inconveniences.
It was impossible to regard this unfortunate and misplaced family
without emotions of deep interest and sincere commiseration; they were
so evidently out of their proper sphere, and it must have been so
painful to the feelings of a gentleman and lady to live in almost
immediate contact with the coarse and vulgar tenants of that crowded and
comfortless part of the vessel.
Mr. Fenton, and others of the gentlemen, took great pleasure in
conversing with Lieutenant Lynford; though, according to rule, the poor
officer was not permitted, as a steerage passenger, to come aft the
mainmast. Therefore, their conversations had to take place at the
extreme limits of the boundary line, which the lieutenant was scrupulous
in never overstepping.
His wife, a lady both in appearance and manner, was seldom seen on deck,
except when her husband prevailed on her to come up with him to look at
something that made a spectacle, or an event, in the monotony of our
usual sea-view. We understood that they had surrounded the narrow space
allotted to their beds with a sort of partition, made by suspending a
screen of quilts and blankets, so as to interpose a slight barrier
between themselves and the disgusting scenes, and frequently disgusting
people with whom it was their hard fate to be associated during the
voyage; and whose jealousy and ill-will would have been immediately
excited by any attempt on the part of the captain or the cabin
passengers, to alleviate the discomforts to which the unfortunate
Lynfords were subjected.
The regulation that no light shall be allowed in the steerage, except on
some extraordinary occasion (and which originates in the danger of the
ship being carelessly set on fire), must have been an almost intolerable
grievance to Lieutenant Lynford, and his wife and children. I often
thought of them while we were spending our evenings so agreeably in
various amusements and occupations round the cabin tables, brightly
illuminated by the elegant lamps that were suspended from the ceiling. I
felt how long and how dismally _their_ evenings must have passed,
capable as they were in mind, in taste, and in education, of the same
enjoyments as ourselves; and therefore feeling with double intensity the
severe pressure of their hard and unmerited condition.
After crossing the Banks we seemed to feel ourselves on American ground,
or rather on American sea. As our interest increased on approaching the
land of our destination, that gentleman was proportionably overlooked
and forgotten. He "kept the even tenor of his way," and we had become
scarcely conscious that he was still among us: till one day, when there
was rather a hard gale, and the waves were running high, we were
startled, as we surrounded the luncheon table, by a tremendous noise on
the cabin staircase, and the sudden bursting open of the door at its
foot. We all looked up, and saw that gentleman falling down stairs, with
both arms extended, as he held in one hand a tall cane stool, and in
the other the captain's barometer, which had hung just within the upper
door; he having involuntarily caught hold of both these articles with a
view of saving himself. "While his head, as he tumbled, went nicketty
nock," his countenance, for once, assumed a new expression, and the
change from its usual unvarying sameness was so striking, that, combined
with his ludicrous attitude, it set us all to laughing. The waiters ran
forward and assisted him to rise; and it was then found that the stool
and the barometer had been the greatest sufferers; one having lost a
leg, and the other being so shattered that the stair-carpet was covered
with globules of quicksilver. However, he retired to his state-room, and
whether or not he was seen again before next morning, I cannot
positively undertake to say.
On the edge of the Gulf Stream, we had a day of entire calm, when "there
was not a breath the blue wave to curl." A thin veil of haziness
somewhat softened the fires of the American sun (as it was now called by
the European passengers), and we passed the whole day on deck, in a
delightful state of idle enjoyment; gazing on the inhabitants of the
deep, that, like ourselves, seemed to be taking a holiday. Dolphins,
horse-mackerel, and porpoises were sporting round the vessel, and the
flying-fish, "with brine still dropping from its wings," was darting up
into the sun-light; while flocks of petrels, their black plumage tinged
with flame-colour, seemed to rest on the surface of the water; and the
nautilus, "the native pilot of his little bark," glided gayly along the
dimpling mirror that reflected his tiny oars and gauzy sail. We fished
up large clusters of sea-weed, among which were some beautiful specimens
of a delicate purple colour, which, when viewed through a microscope,
glittered like silver, and were covered with little shell-fish so minute
as to be invisible to the naked eye.
It was a lovely day. The lieutenant and his family were all on deck, and
looked happy. That gentleman looked as usual. Towards evening, a breeze
sprung up directly fair, and filled the sails, which all day had been
clinging idly to the masts; and before midnight we were wafted along at
the rate of nine knots an hour, "while round the waves phosphoric
brightness broke," the ship seeming, as she cleaved the foam, to draw
after her in her wake a long train of stars.
Next day, we continued to proceed rapidly, with a fair wind, which we
knew would soon bring us to the end of our voyage. The ladies' cabin was
now littered with trunks and boxes, brought from the baggage-room that
we might select from them such articles as we thought we should require
when we went on shore.
But we were soon attracted to the deck, to see the always interesting
experiment of sounding with the deep-sea lead. To our great joy, it came
up (though from almost immeasurable depth) with a little sand adhering
to the cake of tallow at the bottom of the plummet. The breeze was
increasing, and Mr. Overslaugh, whose pretensions to nautical knowledge
were considered very shallow by his fellow amateurs, remarked to my
husband: "If this wind holds, I should not wonder if we are aground in
less than two hour."
Before Mr. Fenton could reply, Mrs. Cummings exclaimed: "Aground, did
you say!"--And she scuttled away with greater alacrity than we had ever
seen her evince on any former occasion. Some time after, on entering the
ladies' cabin, I found that the old dame, with her usual misconstruction
of sea-phrases, had rejoicingly dressed herself in a very showy suit
prepared for her first landing in America, and was now in the act of
buttoning at the ankles a pair of frilled leggings to "go aground in,"
as she informed me.
I explained to her her mistake, at which she was wofully disappointed,
and proportionately alarmed, ejaculating--"Oh! if I was only back
again--anywhere at all--even in the very out-scouts of London--rather
than stay another night in this dreadful ship!--To think, that after all
my sufferings at sea, I may be blown headforemost ashore, and drowned on
dry land at last!"
However, I succeeded in calming her terrors; and seeing her engaged in
taking off her finery to resume the black silk she had worn during the
voyage, I left Mrs. Cummings, and returned to my husband. The wind,
though still fair, had decreased towards the close of the day, and was
now mild and balmy. When I saw the white wings of a flight of curlews
glancing against the bright crimson glories of the sunset sky, I could
not help saying, "those birds will reach their nests at twilight, and
their nests are in America."
We remained on deck the whole evening, believing it probably the last we
should spend together; and the close companionship of four weeks in the
very circumscribed limits of a ship, had made us seem like one family.
We talked of the morrow, and I forgot that that gentleman was among us,
till I saw him leave the deck to retire for the night. The thought then
struck me, that another day, and we should cease perhaps to remember his
existence.
I laid my head on my pillow with the understanding that land would be
discovered before morning, and I found it impossible to sleep. Mr.
Fenton went on deck about midnight, and remained there till dawn. What
American, when returning to his native country, and almost in view of
its shores, is not reminded of that night, when Columbus stood on the
prow of the Santa Maria, and watched in breathless silence with his
impatient companions, for the first glimpse of the long wished-for
land--that memorable night, which gave a new impulse to the world
already known, and to that which was about to be discovered!
Near one o'clock, I heard a voice announcing the light on the highlands
of Neversink, and in a short time all the gentlemen were on deck. At
day-break Mr. Fenton came to ask me if I would rise, and see the morning
dawn upon our own country. We had taken a pilot on board at two o'clock,
had a fine fair breeze to carry us into the bay of New York, and there
was every probability of our being on shore in a few hours. When I
reached the deck, tears came into my eyes as I leaned on my husband's
arm, and saw the light of Sandy Hook shining brilliantly in the dimness
of the closing night, and emulating the morning star as it sparkled
above the rosy streak that was brightening in the eastern horizon. We
gazed till the rising sun sent up his first rays from behind the
kindling and empurpled ocean, and our native shore lay clear and
distinct before us.
Soon after sunrise we were visited by a news-boat, when there was an
exchange of papers, and much to inquire and much to tell.
We were going rapidly through the Narrows, when the bell rung for
breakfast, which Captain Santlow had ordered at an early hour, as we had
all been up before daylight. Chancing to look towards his accustomed
seat, I missed that gentleman, and inquired after him of the
captain.--"Oh!" he replied, "that gentleman went on shore in the
news-boat; did you not see him depart? He bowed all round, before he
went down the side."
"No," was the general reply; "we did not see him go." In truth, we had
all been too much interested in hearing, reading, and talking of the
news brought by the boat.
"Then he is gone for ever," exclaimed Mrs. Cummings--"and we shall never
know his name."
"Come, Captain Santlow," said Mr. Fenton, "try to recollect it.--'Let it
not,' as Grumio says, 'die in oblivion, while we return to our graves
inexperienced in it.'"
Captain Santlow smiled, and remained silent. "Now, captain," said Miss
Audley, "I will not quit the ship till you tell me that gentleman's
name.--I cannot hold out a greater threat to you, as I know you have had
a weary time of it since I have been under your charge. Come, I set not
my foot on shore till I know the name of that gentleman, and also why
you cannot refrain from smiling whenever you are asked about it."
"Well, then," replied Captain Santlow, "though his name is a very pretty
one when you get it said, there is a little awkwardness in speaking it.
So I thought I would save myself and my passengers the trouble. And
partly for that reason, and partly to tease you all, I have withheld it
from your knowledge during the voyage. But I can assure you he is a
baronet."
"A baronet!" cried Miss Audley; "I wish I had known that before, I
should certainly have made a dead set at him. A baronet would have been
far better worth the trouble of a flirtation, than you, Mr. Williams, or
you, Mr. Sutton, or you, Mr. Belfield, or any of the other gentlemen
that I have been amusing myself with during the voyage."
"A baronet!" exclaimed Mrs. Cummings; "well, really--and have I been
four weeks in the same ship with a baronet--and sitting at the same
table with him,--and often talking to him face to face?--I wonder what
Mrs. Thimbleby of Threadneedle street would say if she knew that I am
now acquainted with a baronet!"
"But what is his name, captain?" said Mr. Fenton; "still you do not tell
us."
"His name," answered the captain, "is Sir St. John St. Leger."
"Sir St. John St. Leger!" was repeated by each of the company.
"Yes," resumed Captain Santlow--"and you see how difficult it is to say
it smoothly. There is more sibilation in it than in any name I
know.--Was I not right in keeping it from you till the voyage was over,
and thus sparing you the trouble of articulating it, and myself the
annoyance of hearing it? See, here it is in writing."
The captain took his manifest out of his pocket-book, and showed us the
words, "Sir St. John St. Leger, of Sevenoaks, Kent."
"Pho!" said Mrs. Cummings. "Where's the trouble in speaking that name,
if you only knew the right way--I have heard it a hundred times--and
even seen it in the newspapers. This must be the very gentleman that my
cousin George's wife is always talking about. She has a brother that
lives near his estate, a topping apothecary. Why, 'tis easy enough to
say his name, if you say it as we do in England."
"And how is that?" asked the captain; "what can you make of Sir St. John
St. Leger?"
"Why, Sir Singeon Sillinger, to be sure," replied Mrs. Cummings; "I am
confident he would have answered to that name. Sir Singeon Sillinger of
Sunnock--cousin George's wife's brother lives close by Sunnock in a
yellow house with a red door."
"And have I," said the captain, laughing, "so carefully kept his name to
myself, during the whole passage, for fear we should have had to call
him Sir St. John St. Leger, when all the while we might have said Sir
Singeon Sillinger?"
"To be sure you might," replied Mrs. Cummings, looking proud of the
opportunity of displaying her superior knowledge of something. "With all
your striving after sense you Americans are a very ignorant people,
particularly of the right way of speaking English. Since I have been on
board, I have heard you all say the oddest things--though I thought
there would be no use in trying to set you right. The other day there
was Mr. Williams talking of the church of St. Mary le bon--instead of
saying Marrow bone. Then Mr. Belfield says, Lord Cholmondeley, instead
of Lord Chumley, and Col. Sinclair, instead of Col. Sinkler; and Mr.
Sutton says Lady Beauchamp, instead of Lady Beachum; and you all say
Birmingham, instead of Brummagem. The truth is, you know nothing about
English names. Now that name, Trollope, that you all sneer at so much,
and think so very low, why Trollope is quite genteel in England, and so
is Hussey. The Trollopes and Husseys belong to great families. But I
have no doubt of finding many things that are very elegant in England,
counted quite vulgar in America, owing to the ignorance of your people.
For my part, I was particularly brought up to despise all manner of
ignorance."
In a short time a steamboat came alongside into which we removed
ourselves, accompanied by the captain and the letter bags; and we
proceeded up to the city, where Mr. Fenton and myself were met on the
wharf, I need not tell how, and by whom.
Captain Santlow informed us during our little trip in the boat, that
soon after breakfast, the steward had brought him a letter which he had
just found on the pillow in that gentleman's birth. It was directed to
Lieutenant Lynford. The captain immediately went forward and presented
it to him, and the poor officer was so overcome after opening it, that
he could not forbear making known to Captain Santlow that it contained a
draft for five hundred dollars on a house in New York, and a few lines
signed St. John St. Leger, requesting Lieutenant Lynford to oblige the
writer by making use of that sum to assist in settling his family in
Canada.
We were now all warm in our praise of that gentleman's generosity. And
Mrs. Cummings recollected that she had heard from her cousin George's
wife that her brother of Sunnock often said that, though he never spoke
if he could help it, nobody did kinder things in his own quiet way than
Sir Singeon Sillinger.
THE SERENADES.
"Sleep you, or wake you, lady bright?"--LEWIS.
"And now tell me the reason of your giving us the slip on Tuesday
night," said Charles Cavender to Frederick Merrill, as they came out of
court together, and walked into the shade of the beautiful double row of
linden trees that interlace their branches in front of the Philadelphia
State House, perfuming the atmosphere of early summer with the fragrance
of their delicate yellow blossoms.
"To tell you the truth," replied Merrill, "I never had much fancy for
these regular serenading parties. And as, on Tuesday night, I had a
presentiment that the course of ours was not going to run smoothly, and
as I found it impossible to play with such a second as Dick
Doubletongue, I resigned my flute to Walton, and went home for my
guitar, being very much in the notion of taking a ramble on my own
account, and giving a little unpretending music to several pretty girls
of my own acquaintance."
"Ah! that guitar!" exclaimed Cavender: "Since you first heard Segura, no
Spaniard can be more completely fascinated with the instrument. And, to
do Segura justice, he has made an excellent guitar player of you, and
cultivated your voice with great success."
"But how did you proceed after I left you?" asked Merrill.
"Oh! very well!" replied Cavender; "only that infernal piano, that Harry
Fingerley insisted on being brought along with us, was pretty
considerable of a bore."
"So I thought," responded Merrill; "to me there appeared something too
absurd in conveying through the streets at night so cumbrous an
instrument--carrying it on a hand-barrow, like porters."
"Well," observed Cavender, "there were, however, enough of us to relieve
each other every square. By-the-bye, I suspect that your true reason for
deserting was to avoid taking your turn in carrying the piano."
"You are not far wrong," replied Merrill, smiling.
"It was a ridiculous business," resumed Cavender. "As Fingerley cannot
touch an instrument without his notes, and always chooses to show off in
difficult pieces, a lantern was brought along, which one of us was
obliged to hold for him whenever he played. Unluckily, a music stool had
been forgotten, and poor Harry, who, you know, is one of the tallest
striplings in town, was obliged to play kneeling: and he wore the knees
of his pantaloons threadbare, in getting through a long concerto of
Beethoven's, before Miss Flickwire's door."
"To what place did you go after I left you?" inquired Merrill.
"Oh! to serenade that saucy flirt, Miss Lawless, Frank Hazeldon's flame.
We ranged ourselves in front of the house, set down the piano and its
elegant supporter, the hand-barrow, upon the pavement, and all struck up
the Band March, with our eyes turned upwards, expecting that we should
see the shutters gently open, and the pretty faces of Lucy Lawless and
her two sisters slyly peeping down at us. But we looked in vain. No
shutters opened, and no faces peeped."
"Perhaps," said Merrill, "the family were all out of town?"
"No, no," replied Cavender; "a bright light shone through the fan-glass
over the door, which opened at last, just as we had concluded the Band
March, and out came Bogle, followed by two or three other waiters of
rather a more decided colour, who stood a little aloof. 'Gentlemen,'
said Bogle, 'Miss Lawless desires her respects and compliments to you
all, and wishes me to inquire if there is one Mr. Hazeldon among
you?'--'Yes; I am Mr. Hazeldon,' said Frank, stepping out.--'Then,'
resumed Bogle, with his usual flourish of hand, 'Miss Lawless presents
her further respects and compliments, and requests me to make you
acquainted that she has a party to-night, and as Frank Johnson was
pre-engaged, and could not come, she desires you will play a few
cotillions for the company to dance--and if there are any more
gentlemen-fiddlers present, she will thank them to play too.'
"There was a general burst of mingled indignation and laughter. Some of
the serenaders advanced to put Bogle into the gutter, but he very
naturally resisted, justly declaring that he ought not to be punished
for obeying the lady's orders, and delivering the message
systematically, as he termed it.
"The windows of the front parlour were now thrown open, and Miss Lawless
with her sisters appeared at them, dressed in lace and flowers. Both
parlours were lighted up with chandeliers, and filled with company.
"'Mr. Hazeldon,' said Miss Lawless, 'you and your friends have come
precisely at the right time. Nothing could be more apropos than your
arrival. We were all engaged with the ice-creams and jellies while you
were playing the Band March (which, to do you justice, you performed
very respectably), or we should have sent Bogle out to you before. Pray,
Mr. Hazeldon, give us "Love was once a little boy;"--it makes an
excellent cotillion--and we shall then be able to decide between the
merits of your band and that of Mr. Francis Johnson.'--'But we are all
gentlemen, madam,' said the simple Bob Midgely, 'and this is a
serenade.'--'The more convenient,' replied Miss Lawless, who is really a
very handsome girl; 'a serenade may thus be made to answer a double
purpose--killing two birds with one stone, in proverbial parlance.'
"Poor Frank Hazeldon was so much annoyed as to be incapable of reply,
being also vexed and mortified at having no invitation to his
lady-love's party.
"But I went forward, and said to Miss Lawless, that if she and her
friends would come out, and perform their cotillions on the pavement, we
would have much pleasure in playing for them. To this she replied, that
she now perceived we had no tambourine with us, and that a dance without
that enlivening instrument must always be a very spiritless affair.
Therefore she would excuse, for the present, the services of Mr.
Hazeldon and his musical friends.
"She then closed the window, and we bowed and moved off; resolved that
for the future we would take care to avoid the awkward _contre-tems_ of
serenading a lady when she is in the act of having a party. Frank
Hazeldon loudly protested against the insolence of his dulcinea, 'who,'
said he, 'would not dare to say and do such things, only that she knows
herself to be (as she certainly is), the most beautiful creature on the
face of the earth.' However, he averred that he had done with Miss
Lawless entirely, and would scrupulously avoid all further acquaintance
with her, now that she had not only affronted himself, but his friends.
We advised him to consider it not so deeply."
"He seems to have taken your advice," observed Merrill; "for there he
is, just turning the corner of Sixth street with her--she laughing at
him as usual, and he, as usual, thankful to be laughed at by her. But
where else did you go?"