. 
 
 
 
 
 -
 
 CHRONICLES 
 
 OF 
 
 THE CITY OF GOTHAM, 
 
 
 
 1830.
 
 
 ALSO 
 
 BY THE SAME AUTHOR, 
 
 THE NEW MIRROR FOR TRAVELLERS, 
 
 AND 
 
 GUIDE TO THE SPJUNGS, 
 
 BY AIS* AMATEUR. 
 
 THE MERRY TALES OF 
 THE THREE WISE MEN OF GOTHAM, 
 
 EDITED BY THE AUTHOR OF 
 
 JOHN BULL IN AMERICA. 
 
 TALES OF THE GOOD WOMAN, 
 
 BY A 
 
 DOUBTFUL GENTLEMAN. 

 
 CHRONICLES 
 
 THE CITY OF GOTHAM, 
 
 FROM TH PAPERS OF 
 
 A RETIRED COMMON COUNCILMAN. 
 
 
 V 
 
 CONTAINING 
 
 THE AZURE HOPE. 
 THE POLITICIAN. 
 THE DUMB GIRL. 
 
 EDITED BY THB AUTHOR OF 
 
 The Backwoodsman," " Konigsmarke," "John Bull 
 in America," &c. &c. 
 
 NEW YORK : 
 G. & C. & H. CARVILL. 
 
 1830. 

 
 >/' 
 
 txnUhern Uistrict of New York, to wit. 
 
 deposited in this office the title of a book, the right whereof they 
 claim aa proprietors, in the words following, to wit : 
 
 " Chronicles of the City of Gotham, from the papers of A Retired 
 Common Council Man. Containing, The Azure Hose. The Poli 
 tician. The Dumb Girl. Edited by the Author of ' The Rack- 
 woodsman,' ' Konigsmarke,' ' John Bull in America,' &c. &c." 
 
 In conformity to the Act of the Congress of the United States, 
 entitled," An Act for the encouragement of learning, by securing 
 the copies of Maps, Charts, and Books, to the authors and proprie 
 tors of such copies, during the time therein mentioned." And also, 
 to an Act, entitled, " An Act, supplementary to an Act, entitled, An 
 Act for the encouragement of learning, by securing the copies of 
 .Maps, Charts, and Books, to the authors and proprietors of such 
 copies, during the time therein mentioned, and extending the be 
 nefits thereof to the arts of designing, engraving, and etching hi* 
 torical and othei prints." 
 
 FREDERICK J. BETTS. 
 Clerk of the Southern District of New Yerk 
 
 Sleight & Robinson, Printers, New York. 
 
 

 
 
 CHI 
 
 *-*- 
 
 TO THE HIGHT WORSHIPFUL THE 
 
 - 
 
 MAYOR, ALDERMEN, AND COMMON COUNCIL 
 
 ANCIENT CITY OF GOTHAM. 
 
 
 
 RIGHT WORSHIPFUL : 
 
 IT hath been from time immemorial 
 a subject of contention among the learned, whether 
 Osiris, Confucius, Zoroaster, Solon, Lycurgus, Draco, 
 Numa Pompilius, Mahomet, Peter the Great, Napoleon 
 Bonaparte, Jeremy Bentham, or the author ot the New 
 Charter of Gotham, was, or is the greatest lawgiver. 
 Without diving into the abstruse profundity of this 
 knotty question, I myself am of opinion that it may be 
 easily settled, by putting them all out of sight at once, 
 as bearing no sort of comparison in the art of concoct- 
 <tf ing numerous laws, and multifarious enactments, with 
 {Q your Honours of the Common Council. What consti 
 tutes greatness, but bulk, numbers, and dimensions? 
 
 > And who of all legislators, ancient or modern, can com- 
 u. 
 
 pare, or as the vulgar say, hold a candle to your Ho- 
 
 1201549
 
 IV 
 
 nours, in the length, breadth, profundity, and multiplicity 
 of your laws ? I am credibly informed, and do believe, 
 that, provided all the enactments of your Honourable 
 Body (which, like the king, never dieth) were carefully 
 collected in good substantial volumes, bound in calf, they 
 would build another tower of Babel, and cause a se 
 cond confusion of tongues, to the utter discomfiture and 
 dispersion of the worthy citizens of Gotham. 
 
 It hath moreover been another question, which hath 
 from time to time sorely puzzled the learned, to wit, 
 whether offences do not multiply, exactly in propor 
 tion to the multiplication of the laws. I myself, with 
 due submission, am inclined to believe that such is ac- 
 y the case ; seeing all experience teaches us that 
 there is a pestilent itching in the blood towards the 
 practice of disobedience. To forbid children to go 
 ont of their bounds, is peradventure the most powerful 
 incitement thereto ; and to caution them against dan 
 gers, is the most infallible way of making them run 
 their heads into them. Even so with men and women, 
 who are morally certain to be put in im'nd of the plea 
 sure of transgressing, by the anticipation of punish 
 ment. They actually persuade themselves there must 
 be something vastly delectable in the offence, to make 
 it necessary to denounce such severe penalties against 
 it. I do modestly assure your Honours, that no longer 
 ago than yesterday, I saw a child burn its fingers with 
 paper, for no other reason that I could perceive, than
 
 because the mother had threatened to punish it if it did 
 so. As a further illustration, I will, with your Ho 
 nours' permission, instance the example of a decent, 
 well-behaved, and indeed exemplary horse I once 
 knew, who had been for years accustomed to pasture 
 at will, in a common appertaining to our township, 
 open on all sides to his excursions. Beyond this he 
 was never known to stray one step. But in process of 
 time, our little corporation, impelled by the ever busy 
 spirit of improvement, unluckily passed a law for 
 enclosing this common ; and from that fatal era, 
 this horse seemed possessed with an invincible and 
 wicked propensity to trespass and go astray. From 
 being an example to all the animals of the town, he 
 degenerated into all sorts of irregularities ; was pound 
 ed three or four times a week ; threshed out of other 
 people's enclosures ; cudgelled from their barn-yards, 
 and finally, as T believe, wilfully drowned himself in a 
 swamp, where he never dreamed of going till this un 
 fortunate ordinance for enclosing the common. Having 
 thus illustrated my position by the example of both 
 reason and instinct, I will proceed to the prime ob 
 jects of this my humble Epistle Dedicatory, and Pe 
 tition. 
 
 And firstly, my request is, that although, as I cannot 
 deny, there is a great plenty, not to say superabun 
 dance of most valuable works, such as tracts, tales, ro 
 mances, improved grammars, spelling-books, class- 
 
 i*
 
 
 VI 
 
 books, and all that sort of thing, coming out every hour 
 of the day ; yet is there a certain class of works, to 
 wit, those that nobody buys or reads, that lack legisla 
 tive encouragement and protection. Besides, your 
 Honours, even if this were not the case, your Honours 
 must be fully aware, that there are certain good things 
 of which the world cannot have too many, such as laws, 
 colleges, paper money, and paper books. If one 
 law is not sufficient, the spirit of the age requires an 
 other exactly opposite in its provisions, so that approach 
 ing as they do both before and behind, it is next to 
 impossible for a criminal to escape. So if there is not 
 sufficient liberality in the public, or sufficient love of 
 learned lore, to afford encouragement to one univer 
 sity, the only remedy for such sore evils is to establish 
 another, inasmuch as that between two stools we may 
 certainly fall to the earth, which every body knows is 
 the most solid foundation after all for learning. In 
 respect to paper money, it is quite a sufficient indica 
 tion of the necessity of having plenty of that invalua 
 ble commodity, to instance the avidity of every body 
 for more. Besides, if it were not for the establishment 
 of new banks, in a little while we should have no paper 
 money at all, seeing the number of old ones that be 
 come bankrupt every day. The wear and tear of 
 these useful manufactories of paper, is such as to re 
 quire perpetual repairs. So in like manner with books, 
 which being for the most part forgot in a few weeks.
 
 vu 
 
 in consequence of the perpetual supplies of novelty, 
 it necessarily becomes proper to apply new stimu 
 lants to the spirit of the age, and developement of the 
 human mind. The insects that live but for a day, are 
 as the sands of the sea in number, and are succeeded 
 hour after hour, by new generations of insects who 
 glitter in the noontide sun, and perish in the first dews 
 of the evening. 
 
 Yet forasmuch as this multiplication and quick suc 
 cession of new books, is calculated to interfere with, and 
 circumscribe the circulation of this my work, which I 
 now lay at the feet of your Honours' munificence, I 
 therefore humbly beseech your Honours to afford it 
 your special protection, in the manner and form fol 
 lowing, to wit : 
 
 First. That you will cause the finance committee to 
 subscribe for a thousand or (not to be particular) two 
 thousand copies, and direct a warrant to be issued in 
 favour of your petitioner for the amount. Professing 
 himself a reasonable man, he hereby relinquishes all 
 right of demanding that your Honours should read 
 them. 
 
 Secondly. That your Honours will refer the tale, 
 entitled and called " The Azure Hose," in this my 
 hook, 'to the water committee, with directions to report 
 definitively a favourable criticism on its merits, some 
 time in the course of the present century, or as soon 
 thereafter as possible.
 
 VU1 
 
 Thirdly. That your Honours will be pleased to refer 
 the tale, called " The Politician," being the second of 
 the said book, unto the committee on applications for 
 office, with peremptory directions to nominate your pe 
 titioner to some goot fat place, with a liberal salary and 
 nothing to do. Your humble petitioner, being by pro 
 fession an anti-busybody, will engage to neglect his 
 duties equal to any man living, except perhaps certain 
 of the street inspectors. 
 
 Fourthly. That your munificent, patriotic, and law- 
 giving Honours, will in like manner refer the tale of 
 " The Dumb Girl," to a special committee of silence, 
 with instructions to say nothing on the subject. If a 
 sufficient number of silent members cannot be detect 
 ed, in your Honourable Body, your Honours will find 
 plenty in Congress. 
 
 Fifthly. That your Honourable Body will graciously 
 instruct the committee of arrangements for the fourth 
 of July, and other masticatory celebrations, not to for 
 get to invite your petitioner to the aforesaid jolly an 
 niversaries, as hath been the case ever since he had 
 the misfortune to empty a bottle of champaigne int 
 the right worshipful pocket of the late worthy and la 
 mented Alderman Quackenbush, of immortal memory. 
 
 Sixthly. That your munificent Honours, being as 
 you are the patrons of literature, the fine arts, and the 
 like thereof, will, as an honourable testimony to the be 
 nefits this my work is likely to shower on the present
 
 
 IX 
 
 age and posterity, confer immortality on your humble 
 petitioner, by voting him the freedom of the city in a 
 gold box, taking especial care that it be not too large 
 to be converted into a convenient snuff-box. 
 
 Lastly. That your munificent Honours will take com 
 passion on all idle and useful citizens and strangers, who 
 having like your petitioner nothing to do, are very apt 
 to get tired ; and in due time cause to be constructed a 
 suitable number of jolly, comfortable seats on the Bat 
 tery, well lined and stuffed, with seemly high backs, for 
 our special and exclusive accommodation. If your illus 
 trious and industrious Honours only knew how idle 
 your petitioner is, and what a horror he hath of a hard 
 bench without a back, you would shed tears at behold 
 ing him luxuriating in agony on the Battery in the 
 beautiful summer twilight. Many a worthy citizen, as 
 he verily believes, hath been driven to the most enor 
 mous excesses of tippling and debauchery, by the utter 
 impossibility of obtaining a moment's ease and relaxa 
 tion, upon those instruments of torture, miscalled 
 benches, and in a paroxysm of impatience cast him 
 self utterly away upon the quicksands of Castle Gar 
 den, or the Battery Hotel. 
 
 And your petitioner shall ever vote, &c,
 
 XL & ,Z? 
 
 * & 
 
 
 THE AZURE HOSE. 
 
 ;: Sure he has a drum in his mouth !" 
 : Clap an old drum head to his feet, 
 "And dra.iv the thunder downwards." 
 
 BEAUMONT AKD FLETCHER. 
 
 THE PROLOGUE. 
 
 There is reason in the boiling 1 of eggs, as well as in roasting them. 
 
 IT was one of those charming spring mornings, so 
 peculiar to our western clime, when the light, cheer 
 ing sunshine invites abroad to taste the balmy air, 
 but when, if you chance to accept the invitation, you 
 will be saluted by a killing, piercing, sea monster 
 of a breeze, which chills the genial current of the 
 soul, and drives you shivering to the fire-side to 
 warm your fingers, and complain for the hundredth 
 time of the backwardness of the season. In short, 
 it was a non-descript day, too hot for a great coat, 
 and too cool to go without one ; when one side of 
 the street was broiling in the sun, the other freezing- 
 in the shade.
 
 
 
 12 THE AZURE HOSE. 
 
 Mr. Lightfoot Lee was seated at the breakfast 
 table, with his only daughter, Miss Lucia Light- 
 foot Lee, one of the prettiest alliterations ever seen. 
 She was making up her opinions for the day, from 
 the latest number of the London Literary Gazette, 
 and marking with a gold self-sharpening pencil a list 
 of books approved by that infallible oracle, for 
 the circulating library. Mr. Lee was occupied with 
 matters of more importance. He held his watch in 
 one hand, a newspaper in the other. By the way, 
 if 1 wished to identify a North American beyond all 
 question, I would exhibit him reading a newspaper. 
 But at present Mr. Lee seemed employed in study 
 ing his watch, rather than the paper. He had good 
 reasons for it. 
 
 Mr. Lightfoot Lee was exceedingly particular in 
 boiling his eggs, which he waS accustomed to say 
 required more discretion than any other branch of 
 the great art of cookery. The preparations for 
 this critical affair were always made with due so 
 lemnity. First, Mr. Lee sat with his watch in his 
 hand, and the parlour door, as well as all the other 
 doors down to the kitchen, wide open. At the par 
 lour door stood Juba, his oldest, most confidential 
 servant. At the end of the hall leading to the 
 kitchen, stood Pomp, the coachman ; at the foot of 
 the kitchen stairs stood Benjamin, the footman ; 
 and Dolly, the cook, was watching the skillet. " It 
 boils," cried Dolly : " It boils," said Benjamin : 
 " It boils," said Pompey the great : and " It boils;"
 
 
 THE AZURE HOSE. 
 
 13 
 
 echoed Juba, Prince of Numidia. " Put them in," 
 said Mr. Lee : " Put them in," said Juba : " Put 
 them in," said Pomp ; and " Put them in," cries 
 Dolly, as she dropt the eggs into the skillet. Ex 
 actly a minute and a half afterwards, by his stop 
 watch, Mr. Lee called out " Done ;" and done was 
 repeated from mouth to mouth as before. The per 
 fection of the whole process consisted in Dolly's 
 whipping out the eggs in half a second, from the 
 last echo of the critical " done." 
 
 The eggs were boiled to his satisfaction, and Mr. 
 Lee ate and pondered over the newspaper by turns. 
 At length, all at once he started up in a violent com 
 motion, and stumped about the room, exclaiming in 
 an under tone to himself, " Too bad ; too bad." 
 
 " What is the matter, father ?" said Lucia ; " is 
 your egg overdone, or are you suffering the excru 
 ciating pangs of the gout, or enduring the deadly 
 infliction of a hepatic paroxysm?" 
 
 " Hepatic fiddlestick ! I wish to heaven you 
 would talk English, Lucia." 
 
 " My dear sir, you know English now is very 
 different from what it it was when you learned it." 
 
 " I know it, I know it," said he ; " it is as different 
 as a quaker bonnet and a French hat. I see I mus 
 go to school again. You and Mr. Goshawk talk 
 Greek to me." 
 
 " Mr. Goshawk is a poet, sir." 
 
 ' Well, there is no particular reasop why a poet 
 2
 
 14 THE AZITHE HOSE. 
 
 should not talk like other people, at least on com 
 mon subjects." 
 
 " Ah ! sir, the poet's eye is always in a fine frenzy 
 rolling. He sees differently from other people to 
 him the sky is peopled with airy beings." 
 
 " Ay ; gnats, flies, and devil's darning-needles," 
 said Mr. Lee, pettishly. Lucia was half angry, and 
 put up a lip as red as a cherry. 
 
 " Ah ! too bad, too bad," continued Mr. Lee. 
 stumping about again with his hands behind him. 
 
 " What is too bad, sir ?" said Lucia, anxiously. 
 
 " What is too bad ?" cried he, furiously advancing 
 towards her with his fist doubled ; " that puppy, High- 
 field, has not got the first honour after all, I see by 
 the paper. The blockhead! I had set my heart 
 upon it, and see here ! he is at the tail of his class." 
 
 " Is that all ? why father I am glad to hear it, 
 Mr. Goshawk assures me that genius despises the 
 trammels of scholastic rust, and soars on wings of 
 polish'd" 
 
 " Wings of a goose," cried the old gentleman. 
 He had a provoking way of interrupting Lucia in 
 her flights ; and, had she not been one of the best 
 natured of the azure tribe, she would have some 
 times lost her temper. 
 
 " He'll be home to-morrow I've a great mind to 
 kick him out of doors." 
 
 " Who, dear father ?" 
 
 ;( Why, Highfield, to be sure."
 
 THE AZURE HOSK. JU 
 
 "For what, sir?" 
 
 "For not getting the first honour ; the puppy, 1 
 wouldn't care a stiver, if I hadn't set my heart upon 
 it? And away the good man stumped, again ejacu 
 lating, " Too bad, too bad, I shall certainly turn 
 him out of doors." 
 
 "Ah! but if you do, sir, I shall certainly let him 
 in again. I shall be glad to see my dear, good na- 
 tured cousin Charles once more, though he has not 
 got the first honour," said Lucia, smiling. 
 
 What more might have been said on this subject 
 was cut short, by the entrance, without ceremony, 
 of Mr. Diodorus Fairweather, a neighbour, and 
 most particular friend and associate of Mr. Lee. 
 These two gentlemen had a sincere regard for each 
 other, kept up in all its pristine vigour, by the force 
 of contrast. One took every thing seriously ; the 
 other considered the world, and all things in it a 
 jest. One worshipped the ancients ; the other main 
 tained they were not worthy of tying the shoe-strings 
 of the moderns. One insisted that the world was go 
 ing backwards ; the other, that it was rolling onwards 
 in the path of improvement, beyond all former ex 
 ample. One was a violent federalist ; the other a 
 raging democrat. They never opened their mouths 
 without disagreeing, and this was the cement of 
 their friendship. The mind of Mr. Lee was not 
 fruitful, and that of Mr. Fairweather was some 
 what sluggish in suggesting topics of conversation. 
 Had they agreed in every thing they must have re-
 
 16 THE AZURE HOSE. 
 
 quired a succession of subjects ; but uniformly differ 
 ing, as they did on all occasions, it was only necesa- 
 ry to say a single word, whether it conveyed a pro 
 position or not, and there was matter at once, for the 
 day. 
 
 " A glorious morning," said Mr. Fairweather, 
 rubbing his hands. 
 
 "I differ with you," said Mr. Lee. 
 
 " It is a beautiful sunshine." 
 
 "But, my good sir, if you observe, there is a 
 cold, wet, damp, hazy, opake sky, through which 
 the sun cannot penetrate ; 'tis as cold as December." 
 
 " 'Tis as warm as June," said Mr. Fairweather, 
 Jaughing. 
 
 " Pish !" said Mr. Lee, taking up his hat mechani 
 cally, and following his friend to the door. They 
 salh'ed forth without saying a word. At every 
 corner, however, they halted, to renew the discus 
 sion ; they disputed their way through a dozen dif 
 ferent streets, and finally returned home, the best 
 friends in the world, for they had assisted each other 
 in getting through the morning. Mr. Lee invited 
 Mr. Fairweather to return to dinner, and he ac 
 cepted. 
 
 " Well, it does not signify," said Mr. Lee, bob 
 bing his chin up and down, as was his custom when 
 uttering what he considered an infallible dictum. " It 
 does not signify, that Fairweather is enough to pro 
 voke a saint. I never saw such an absurd, obsti 
 nate, illnatured, passionate"
 
 THE AZURE HOSE. 1? 
 
 "O father" said Lucia, "every body says Mr. 
 b'airweather was never in a passion in his life." 
 
 " Well, but he is the cause of passion in others, 
 and that is the worst kind of illnature." 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 Necessary to understanding the first . 
 
 Lightfoot Lee, Esq. was a gentleman of an ho 
 nourable family ; honourable, not only from its an 
 tiquity, but from the talents, worth, and services of 
 its deceased members, and its present representative. 
 He possessed a large estate in one of the southern 
 states, but preferred living in the city during the 
 period in which his daughter Lucia, who was his 
 only child, was acquiring the accomplishments of a 
 fashionable education. He was a good scholar, and 
 had seen enough of the frippery of life to relish the 
 beauties of an unaffected simplicity in speech and 
 action. He could not endure to hear a person talk 
 ing for effect, or disturbing the pleasant, unstudied 
 chit-chat of a social party, by full mouthed decla 
 mations, and inflated nothings, delivered with all 
 the pomp of an oracle. Grimace and affectation of 
 all kind, he despised ; and among all the affectations 
 of the day, that which is vulgarly called a blue 
 2*
 
 
 18' THE AZURE HOSE. 
 
 * V "*vjf ^ 
 
 stocking made him the most impatient. Among the 
 admirers, which the beauty and fortune of Lucia at 
 tracted around her, his most favourite aversion was 
 a Mr. Fitzgiles Goshawk, who wrote doggrel rhymes 
 almost equal to Lord Byron ; and whose conversa 
 tion perpetually reminded him, as he said, of a fall 
 ing meteor, which, when handled, proves nothing 
 but a jelly a cold, dull mass, that glitters only while 
 it is shooting. 
 
 Lucia, on the contrary, though naturally a fine, 
 sensible girl, full of artless simplicity, and free from 
 all pretence or affectation, admired Mr. Goshawk 
 excessively. He had written much, thought little, 
 and spoken a great deal. He had been admired by 
 unquestionable judges, as the best imitator extant ; 
 and had passed the ordeal of the London Literary 
 Gazette. He was the greatest prodigal on eartli in 
 words ; and it was impossible for him to say the 
 simplest thing without rising into a certain lofty en 
 thusiasm, flinging his metaphors about like sky rock 
 ets, and serpentining around and around his sub 
 ject, like an enamoured cock pigeon. 
 
 Our heroine for such is Lucia, was, we grieve 
 to say it, a little of the azure tint. She was not 
 exactly blue, but she certainly inhabited that circle 
 of the rainbow ; and, when reflected on by the bright 
 rays of Mr. Fitzgiles Goshawk, was sometimes of 
 the deepest shade of indigo. Then her words were 
 mighty; her criticisms positive ; her tones decisive ; 
 and her enthusiasm, though it might not be without
 
 THE AZURE HOSE. 19 
 
 effect, was certainly without cause. At times, how 
 ever, when not excited by the immediate contact of 
 a congenial spirit, she would become simple, natural, 
 touching, affecting, and lovely. Instead of standing 
 on stilts, striving at wit, and challenging admira 
 tion, she would remind one of Allworthy's descrip 
 tion of Sophia Western. "I never," says that good 
 man, " heard any thing of pertness, or what is called 
 repartee, out of her mouth; no pretence to wit, 
 much less to that kind of wisdom which is the re 
 sult of great learning and experience, the affecta 
 tion of which, in a young woman, is as absurd as 
 any of the affectations of an ape." Truth obliges us 
 to say, that Lucia only realized this fine sketch of a 
 young woman, when acting from the unstudied im 
 pulses of nature, among her familiar domestic asso 
 ciates, where she did not think it worth her while to 
 glitter. Among the azure hose of the fashionable 
 world, she strove to shine, the sun of the magic cir 
 cle, until, like the sun, the eye turned away, not in 
 admiration of its blurting mid-day splendours, but 
 to seek relief in the more inviting twilight of an or 
 dinary intellect. In short, our heroine was an 
 heiress, a belle, a beauty ; and, would it were not so, 
 a blue stocking or in the exalted phraseology of 
 the day, an azure hose. 
 
 The morning after the conversation recorded iu 
 our first chapter, Highfield arrived. The old gen 
 tleman did not kick him out of doors as he threaten 
 ed ; and Lucia, though she did not therefore sig-
 
 ^ * ^ 
 
 VJO THE AZURE HOSE. 
 
 nalize herself by letting him in, received him with a 
 smile and a hand of gentle welcome one as bright 
 as the sunbeam, the other as soft as a ray of the 
 moon. The old gentleman was stiff very stiff; 
 Charles was his favourite nephew ; he had brought 
 him up, and intended, as he said, to make a man 
 of him. 
 
 "Well, uncle," said Charles, "I hope 1 did not 
 disappoint you. I promise you I studied night and 
 day." 
 
 " Mischief, I suppose," said the other, gruffly. 
 
 " A little sometimes, uncle ; but I minded the 
 main chance. I hope you are satisfied." 
 
 " No, sir I'm not satisfied, sir dammee, sir, if I 
 will be satisfied, and dammee if I ever forgive you !" 
 and the good gentleman stumped about according 
 to custom. 
 
 Charles looked at Lucia, as if to inquire the mean 
 ing of this explosion ; and Lucia looked most mis 
 chievously mysterious, but said nothing. 
 
 " Pray, sir," said Highfield, who on some occa 
 sions was as proud as Lucifer, "pray, sir, how 
 have I merited this reception from my benefactor ?" 
 
 " I've a great mind to turn you out of my 
 doors." 
 
 " I can go without turning, sir." And he took 
 up his hat. 
 
 "Answer me, sir are you not a great block 
 head ?" 
 
 " If I am, uncle, nature made me so/'
 
 
 THK AZURE HOSE. 'J t 
 
 " I've a great mind to send you back to college, 
 and make you go all over your studies again." 
 
 " What ! the Greek alphabet the Pons Asino- 
 rum the plus and the minus the labour of all la 
 bours, a composition upon nothing and the wor 
 ry of all worries, the examination ? Spare me, uncle, 
 this time." 
 
 "You deserve it, you blockhead." 
 
 " My excellent friend and benefactor," said 
 Charles, approaching and taking his uncle's hand, 
 " if I have offended you, I most solemnly declare it 
 was without intention. If I have done any thing 
 unworthy of myself, or displeasing to you ; or if I 
 have omitted any act of duty, gratitude, or affection, 
 tell me of it frankly, and frankly will I offer excuse 
 and make atonement. What have I done, or left un 
 done ?" 
 
 I declare, thought Lucia* that puts me in mind of 
 Mr. Goshawk how eloquent ! 
 
 The tears came into the old gentleman's eyes at 
 this appeal of his nephew. 
 
 " You've missed the first honour," exclaimed he, 
 with a burst of indignation, mingled with affection ; 
 "O Charles! Charles!" 
 
 " Indeed, uncle, I have not. I gained it honestly 
 and fairly, against one of the finest fellows in the 
 world, though I say it." 
 
 " What ! you did gain it ?" 
 
 " Ay, uncle." 
 
 " And you spoke the valedictory !"
 
 22 THE AZURE HOSE. 
 
 1 %. ; 
 
 "I did, sir. The newspapers, I perceive, made 
 a mistake, owing to a similarity between my name 
 and that of the head dunce of the class. I should 
 have written to let you know, but I wanted to have 
 the pleasure of telling it myself." 
 
 " My dear Charles !" cried the old gentleman, 
 " give me your hand ; I ought to have known you 
 inherited the first honour from your mother. There 
 never was a Lee that did not carry away the first ho 
 nour every where. But these blundering newspapers. 
 The other day they put my name to an advertisement 
 of a three-story horse, with folding doors and marble 
 mantel-pieces. Lucia, come here, you baggage, 
 and wish me joy." 
 
 "I can't, father, I'm jealous." 
 
 " Pooh ! you shall love him as well as I do, be 
 fore you are as old as I am." 
 
 Hum, thought Lucia, that is more than you 
 know, father. When Lucia retired, she could not 
 help thinking of this prophecy of the old gentleman. 
 " He is certainly handsome ; but then what is beau 
 ty in a man ? It is intellect, genius, enthusiasm 
 mind, mind alone bear witness earth and heaven ! 
 that constitutes the divinity of man. Certainly his 
 
 eyes are as bright as and his person tall, straight, 
 
 and elegant. But then what are these to the loftj 7 
 aspirations of Genius ? I wonder if he can waltz. 
 He must be clever, for he gained the first honour. 
 But then Mr. Goshawk says that none but dull boys 
 make a figure at college. And then he talks just
 
 j 
 
 TUB AZURE HOSE. 23 
 
 like a common person. I wonder if he can write 
 poetry ; for I am determined never to marry a man 
 that is not inspired. He is certainly much hand 
 somer than Mr. Goshawk ; but then Mr. Goshawk 
 uses such beautiful language ! I declare I some 
 times hardly know what he is saying. My cousin 
 is certainly handsome, but his coat don't fit him half 
 so well as Mr. Goshawk's." 
 
 How much longer this cogitation might have con 
 tinued, is a mystery, had not the young lady at this 
 moment been called away to accompany her relative, 
 Mrs. Coates, one of the smallest of small ladies, and 
 for that reason sometimes called by her mischievous 
 particular friends, in her absence, Mrs. Petticoats. 
 Mrs. Coates was educated in England, as was the 
 fashion of the better sort of colonists before the Re 
 volution, and is so still among ignorant upstart peo 
 ple, who have not got over the colonial feeling. She- 
 had in early life married an English officer, connected 
 with the skirts of one or two titled families, with whose 
 names the good lady was perfectly familiar. Her 
 conversation, when not literary, or liquorary as she 
 termed it, was all restrospective, and she talked won 
 derfully of Sir Cloudesley Shovel, and Sir Richard 
 Gammon, together with divers lords and ladies of 
 the court calendar. Her toryism was invincible, and 
 if there was any body in the world she hated past 
 all human understanding, it was ' that Bonaparte,' 
 as she called him. Her favourite topics were the 
 developement, which she was pleased to call devil-
 
 *24 THE AZURE HOSE, 
 
 opement of the infant mind ; the progress of the 
 age ; the march of intellect, and the wonderful pro 
 perties of the^steam engine, which she considered 
 altogether superior to any man machine of her ac 
 quaintance, except Mr. Fitzgiles Goshawk. Though 
 in the main a well principled woman, there was a 
 cold, English selfishness in her character, and a mi 
 nute attention to her own comfort and accommoda 
 tion, to the neglect of other people, that effectually 
 prevented her ever being admired or beloved. It 
 was a favourite boast with her, that no nation un 
 derstood the meaning of the word comfort but the 
 English ; to which her cousin, Mr. Lee, would 
 sometimes retort, by affirming " it was no wonder, 
 since no people were ever more remarkable for at 
 tending to their own wants, at the expense of 
 others." 
 
 Mrs. Coates sent to invite Lucia to go out with 
 her, to assist in the selection of a riband, which was 
 always a matter of great delicacy and circumspec 
 tion with Mrs. Petticoats. She admired Mr. Gos 
 hawk beyond all other human beings, because he 
 wrote so like Lord Byron, and spoke like a whirl 
 wind. " Ah, Lucy," would she say, " he will makf 
 an extinguished man, will that Mr. Goosehawk,"
 
 'HE AZURE TIOSE. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 '. , An Azure Morning 1 . 
 
 AFTER visiting three hundred and sixty-five 
 stores, Mrs. Coates at length selected a riband ot 
 >ixteen colours, and, finding the morning was not ye< 
 altogether wasted, proposed a visit to Miss Appleby, 
 at whose house one was always sure of hearing all. 
 the news of the literary world. They fonnd tha? 
 lady surrounded by Mr. Goshawk and two or three 
 azures, all talking high matters. Mr. Goshawk wa 
 not only a very ' extinguished ' but a very extraordi 
 nary man : he was always either trotting up and 
 down the streets, or visiting ladies and talking at . 
 corners. He never seemed to study, nor did it 
 appear how he got his knowledge ; but certain it is, 
 he knew almost every thing. He could tell how 
 many rings Miss Edgeworth wore on the forefinger 
 of her left hand, and how many panes of glass there 
 were in the great Gothic window of Sir Walter's-' 
 study. He knew the name of the author of PelhaiL 
 the writer of every article in the Edinburgh and 
 Quarterly and the editor of the London Literan 
 Gazette was not a more infallible judge of the meri< 
 of books. Indeed, as Mrs. Coates used to say, 
 3
 
 26 THE AZURE HOSE.' 
 
 " His knowledge seemed absolutely inchewative, and 
 I wonder how he finds time to digest it." Besides 
 Mr. Goshawk, there was Mr. Puddingham, a solid 
 gentleman, who had so overcultivated a thin-soiled 
 intellect, that he prematurely turned it into a pine- 
 barren, Mr. Paddleford, Mr. Prosser, Mr. Roth, a 
 grumbling sententiarian critic, and Miss Overend s 
 secretary to a charitable fund, and member of an 
 executive committee of Greek ladies. 
 
 I wish my dearly beloved readers could have 
 been present at this congeries of stars ; for it is 
 impossible to do justice to the nights of fancy, the 
 vast, incomprehensible nothings, the arrogant com 
 mon-places, and the hard words, sported by our 
 azure coterie. Here was a dwarfish thought dressed 
 in vast, gigantic words, and there a little toad of an 
 idea swelled to the size of an ox, and ready to burst 
 with its own importance ; here a deplorable mixture 
 of false metaphor and true nonsense, and there a 
 little embryo of meaning, gasping for life and groan 
 ing under a heap of rubbish. No little sparks of 
 innocent, unstudied vivacity ; no easy chit-chat, 
 such as relaxes and unbends the bow ; no rambling 
 interchange of mind or meaning ; no gentle whispers, 
 or musical, good humoured responses. All were 
 talking for effect, all striving for the palm of elo 
 quent declamation, and bending their little, stubborn 
 bows, as if, like Sagittarius, they were going to 
 bring down a constellation at the first shot.
 
 
 THE AZURE HOSE. Vt 
 
 But though I feel the impossibility of doing justice 
 to this superfine palaver, yet will I attempt a sketch, 
 a shadow, a mere outline, of some portion, if it be 
 only for the benefit of the unlettered spinsters who 
 as yet, perchance, may not know what is meant by 
 ' powerful talking.' I confess the task is appalling 
 as it is unpleasant ; for I do honestly and openly 
 profess myself to have a holy horror of loud, con 
 tentious discussions, affected enthusiasm, and osten 
 tatious display either of wealth or talents. It is 
 offensive in man ; but in woman, dear woman, whose 
 office is to soothe, not irritate whose voice should 
 be soft as an echo of the mountain vales whose wit 
 should be accidental whose enthusiasm, silent 
 expression, and whose empire, resides in her graces, 
 her smiles, her tears, her gentleness, and her virtues, 
 it makes me mad. It is laying down the cestus of 
 Venus, to brandish the club of Hercules. 
 
 " I insist upon it, Pelham is an immoral book," 
 said Miss Appleby : " No man that cherishes the 
 sacred principle, the vestal fire on which depended 
 the existence of the Roman state, and all the social 
 affinities that bind man and man together, could 
 speak as the author does of his mother." 
 
 " Bnt my dear Miss Appleby," said Mr. Gos 
 hawk, " the author is not accountable for every 
 thing in his- book, any more than a father can be 
 made* to answer for the crimes of his children. The 
 argument I would superinduce upon this predication 
 is this,"
 
 . 
 
 ~0 XHE AZUBE HOSE. 
 
 " But ( &ir-r-r," said the Johnsonian Puddinghani. 
 cutting in " sir, the author of a bad book is guilty 
 of a crime against society. Society, sir, is a conge- 
 ries of certain people, whose various inflections, de 
 flections, and" 
 
 "My dear Puddingham," roared Mr. Roth, "the 
 book is immoral in the perception, conception, exe 
 cution, and catastrophe ; sir" 
 
 " Sir Cloudesley Shovel," said Mrs. Coates, but 
 what more she would have said is in the womb of 
 fate. Mr. Goshawk again took flight, and overshot 
 her. 
 
 " Sir Francis Bacon" said he 
 
 " Sir Richard Gammon" said Mrs. Coates 
 
 " Dr. Johnson affirms" 
 
 " The Edinburgh Review says" 
 
 11 The London Quarterly lays it down" 
 
 " The London Literary Gazette" screamed Lu 
 cia 
 
 " Blackwood's Bombazine" cried Mrs. Coates,, 
 yet louder. Here Highfield happened to be pass 
 ing by, and Lucia called him in by tapping at the 
 window ; for she was anxious to have a little display 
 before him. Highfieid had known them all, having 
 visited with Lucia, during his vacations. He held 
 them, however, in so little respect, that he did not 
 mind quizzing them now and then. His entrance 
 put an end to the literary disscussion about Pemam, 
 and the torrent took another course.
 
 THE AZURE HOSE. 29 
 
 " What do you think of Goldsmith ?" asked Miss 
 Appleby, after the compliments. 
 
 " Goldsmid ?" said he, " why really I think he- 
 was a great fool to shoot himself." 
 
 " Shoot himself!" screamed Mrs. Coates, " what, 
 is he dead ?" 
 
 " Yes, madam his affairs fell into confusion, and 
 he shot himself ; I thought you had seen it in the pa 
 pers, by your asking my opinion." 
 
 It is my opinion Highfield did not think any such 
 thing ; hut of that no more. 
 
 " Lord !" said Miss Appleby, '* I don't mean 
 Goldsmid, the broker, but Goldsmith, the poet and 
 novelist ; what is your opinion of him ?"' 
 
 "Why really, the question comes upon me by sur 
 prise; but I think him, upon the whole, one of the 
 most agreeable, tender, and sprightly writers in the 
 language." 
 
 "He wants power, sir," said Puddingham ; "there 
 is not a powerful passage in all his writings." 
 
 " He wants force, sir," thundered Mr. Goshawk : 
 "there is nothing forcible in his works ; no effort ; 
 no struggle ; no swelling of the tempest ; no pelt 
 ing of the pitiless storm against the indurated feel 
 ings of the heart; no fighting with the angry ele 
 ments of those deep buried passions, which, waken 
 ed at the magic touch of the Byrons, and the great 
 unknowns of this precocious age ; for my part, I 
 would not give a pinch of snuff for writings that did 
 not awaken the passions; Lord Byron is all passion." 
 3*
 
 30 THE AZURE HOSE. 
 
 " Lord Byron was a distant connexion of a rela 
 tion of my husband," said Mrs. Coates. 
 
 " Oh all passion," cried Miss Appleby. 
 
 " All passion," cried Mrs. Overend. 
 
 " All passion," cried Paddleford. 
 
 And " all passion," echoed Lucia, Mr. Prosser. 
 and the rest of the party. 
 
 " Well, but," said Highfield, " I don't see why a 
 writer should be always in a passion, any more than 
 another man. I, for my part, should not like to be 
 always in company with a fellow who was for ever 
 cursing his stars, beating his breast, and talking of 
 shooting himself ; nor do I much relish books that 
 address themselves to nothing but our most turbu 
 lent feelings. It is the best and purest office of 
 works of imagination, to soothe and mitigate those 
 malignant passions which the collisions of the world 
 blow into a flame ;" and, added he with, a smile. 
 " it is the business of a young man, like me, to listen 
 rather than preach. I beg pardon for my long 
 speech." 
 
 Goshawk shrugged his shoulders, and looked at 
 Lucia, as if to say, her cousin Charles was an every 
 day sort of person. Lucia thought his sentiments- 
 tolerable enough ; but what superior man ever talk 
 ed such plain, English ? Goshawk was determined 
 to put down this new pretender at once. 
 
 " Sir," said he, pompously, " do you mean to 
 deny that passion is the soul of eloquence ; the mar- 
 row of poetry; the rainbow which connects the 

 
 M 
 
 ' 
 
 THE AZURE HOSE. 31 
 
 overarching skies of fancy, feeling, and imagina 
 tion ; the star that flashes conviction ; sprinkles the 
 dews of heaven on the head of the thirsty traveller ; 
 refines, delights, invigorates, and entrances ; gives 
 to the scimitar of the poet its brightness ; the dagger 
 of the orator its point ; the ardour of love its pur 
 ple blossoms ; and the fire of revenge its blushing 
 fruits ?" 
 
 "Beautiful! beautiful!" sighed Lucia, what a 
 flow of language ! What a torrent of redundant 
 ideas ! what a congeries of metaphors !" and she 
 sighed again. The fact is, that Goshawk rolled out 
 these incomprehensible nothings with such an -im 
 posing enthusiasm, such a rapidity of utterance, that 
 it is hardly a reflection on Lucia's good sense that 
 she admired them. It is only on paper that non 
 sense never escapes detection. 
 
 "Goshawk." said Highfield, " I hate argument ; 
 It is as bad as fighting before ladies." 
 
 "Hate argument!" cried they all together, and 
 little Lucia among the loudest " hate argument!'' 
 
 " I confess it ; I'd rather talk nonsense by the 
 month, than argue by the hour." 
 
 " Hate argument!" cried Mr. Goshawk, " why it 
 is the hone on which the imagination is brought to 
 its brightest edge." 
 
 "What a beautiful figure," said Lucia; "ho 
 talks like a rainbow." 
 
 " Hate argument !" cried the illustrious Pudding- 
 ham ; "let me tell you, sir, the great Johnson con-
 
 32 THE AZURE HOSE. 
 
 sidered argument as a cudgel, with which every man 
 should be furnished, to defend himself and knock 
 down his adversaries." 
 
 " What a charming metaphor !" said Lucia, with 
 cnthusiam. 
 
 "Metaphor!" said Mrs. Coates, "can you see 
 it in the daytime f Do show me where it is, I should 
 like to see its tail in the daytime." 
 
 " My dear aunt," said Lucia, excessively morti 
 fied, " my dear aunt you mean the meteor." 
 
 "Child," said the other, " don't irrigate me. I 
 know the difference between a metaphor .and a me 
 teor, as well as you do, ' the Liquorary Gazette' could 
 tell me that." 
 
 "Pray, sir," said Goshawk to Highfield, pom 
 pously, " what do they learn at college r" 
 
 " Why, a little logic, and" 
 
 " And what is logic but argument f" said the 
 other. 
 
 " My good sir, no two things can be more dis 
 tinct ; I have heard thousands of arguments in 
 which there was no more logic than in the couplet 
 of the primer 
 
 " Xerxes the great did die, 
 " And so must you and I." 
 
 " And do you mean to deny the conclusion," said 
 the other, with his usual enthusiasm. 
 
 "Not I," said Highfield, carelessly; "I have not 
 the least doubt of it. I only deny that you and I 
 "hall die because Xerxes the great ' did die.' "
 
 
 THE A/CRE HOSE. 
 
 To an enthusiastic, declamatory person by pro 
 fession, there is nothing so difficult to parry, as a 
 little plain, direct common sense, conveyed in simple 
 and brief words. Mr. Goshawk was actually puz 
 zled ; so he contented himsslf with asking, rather 
 contemptuously, 
 
 " And is this all they teach at college ?" 
 
 " By no means ; I learnt exactly how may nuts 
 and apples Tityrus had for his supper." 
 
 Mr. Goshawk, it is believed, never heard of but 
 four poets the Great Unknown, Lord Byron, 
 Mr. Moore, and himself. He neither understood 
 who Tityrus was, nor comprehended the sly rebuke 
 of the reply. The indispensable armour of affecta 
 tion is an absolute insensibility to ridicule. 
 
 "Oh! what a beautiful alliteration," exclaimed 
 Lucia, who was dipping into Mr. Thomas Moore. 
 
 " A heart that was humble might hope for it here." 
 
 "Charming! charming!" added ehe, repeating 
 it to Highfield, who insisted that he could make a 
 finer alliteration extempore. 
 
 " If you do, I'll net you a silk purse;" said Lucia, 
 
 "Done," said Highfield : 
 
 " May mild meridian moonlight mantle me." 
 
 " Only make a rhyme to it, and I will add a watch 
 chain," said the young lady. 
 
 " Lovely, lively, lisping-, laughing Lucia Lightfoot Lee." 
 
 " Nonsense !" said Lucia, blushing a little.
 
 34 THE AZURE HOSE. 
 
 " You asked for rhyme, not reason. I insist upon 
 it I've won." The company was called upon to decide. 
 
 " There's no sublimity," said Goshawk. 
 
 "No powerful pathos," said Miss Overend. 
 
 " No exquisite tenderness," said Paddleford. 
 
 "No romantic feeling," said Miss Appleby. 
 
 " No meaning," said Mr. Roth, pompously. 
 
 " No connexion of sense," said Puddingham. 
 
 "It finds no He Cotti* in my feelings," said Mrs. 
 Coates. 
 
 Highfield was proceeding to prove that his two 
 lines contained all the essentials of first rate 
 poetry, when, luckily for his fame, a young lady- 
 came in with a new hat, of the latest Paris fashion. 
 The force of nature overcame the force of affecta 
 tion; and the ladies all flocked round the new bon 
 net; leaving the reputation of our hero, as a bard 
 to its fate. 
 
 After this the conversation turned on more sublu 
 nary things. 
 
 " Do you know," said Miss Traddle, the young 
 lady in the fashionable bonnet, " Do you know that 
 the Briars have hired a splendid hotel, in Paris ?" 
 
 "What!" said little Mrs. Coates, "do they keep 
 tavern ? Well, for my part, I never thought them as 
 rich as some people did. I'm sorry for poor, dear 
 Mrs. Briar." 
 
 * The intelligent reader need hardly be told, that he cow is the 
 fashionable pronunciation of echo, in England,
 
 OSE. 
 
 THE AZURE HOSE. 35 
 
 "They have been presented at court!" said Miss 
 Traddle. "What, tavern keepers presented at 
 court ! O, but its only a French court," quoth Mrs. 
 Coates, quite satisfied. 
 
 The information, however, stirred up, amongst 
 the azures, a violent degree of envy, at the good 
 fortune of the happy Briars. 
 
 " For my part," said Miss Appleby, who had 
 been abroad, but was never presented; "for my 
 part, I always declined going to court. Every body 
 told me it was a stupid business ;" and she sighed at 
 the good fortune of the Briars. 
 
 "What a delightful thing it must be to get into 
 the first society, abroad," said Miss Traddle. 
 
 " Why so ?" asked Highfield. 
 
 " Why, why because it is of such high rank so 
 refined so literary so genteel so much superior 
 to the society here." 
 
 " Who told you so, Miss Traddle ?" 
 
 "Why, Mrs. Vincent; you know she was at 
 court." 
 
 "What, hin Hingland ?" said Mrs. Coates, in as 
 tonishment. 
 
 " Yes indeed ; and at the sheepshearing, at Hoik- 
 ham; and the lord mayor's ball ; and Almacks." 
 
 " What, Almacks !" cried Aiiss Appleby, and 
 fainted. 
 
 " At Almanack's," exclaimed Mrs. Coates; "J 
 dont believe a word of it. Why I could never get 
 there myself, though Sir Cloudesley Shovel, and Sir
 
 36 STHE AZURE HOSE. 
 
 Richard Gammon both made interest for me. Mrs. 
 Vincent, indeed ! the daughter of a shaver, and wife 
 of a 1 don't believe a word on't." 
 
 Poor Mrs. Vincent ! how they all hated her for 
 being at Almacks. 
 
 "And why not?" Said Highfield. 
 
 "Because,", said Mrs. Coates, "they would'nt 
 admit the goddess Dinah, if she was to rise from the 
 dead. Were you ever abroad, Mr. Highfield ?" 
 
 " No, but I intend it one of these days. I wish 
 to go there to undeceive myself; and get rid of 
 those ignoble ideas of the superiority of every thing 
 abroad inculcated by books, and by every thing we 
 see and hear, from our youth upwards. "Tis worth 
 while to go, if for no other purpose than getting rid 
 of this monstrous bugbear." 
 
 "What," said they all, with one voice, "you 
 don't believe in the superiority of foreign literature ?" 
 
 " Not of the present day." 
 
 " Nor foreign manners ?" 
 
 " No, nor morals either." 
 
 " Nor of French cookery ?" quoth Puddingham. 
 
 " Nor of English poetry ?" quoth Goshawk. 
 
 " Nor of Italian skies ?" quoth Miss Overend, 
 enthusiastically. 
 
 "Nor of London Porter?" exclaimed Mrs. 
 Coates. 
 
 " No, no, no, no," replied Highfield, good hu- 
 mouredly, yet earnestly ; " as to your Italian skies, 
 a friend of mine assured me he was three months in
 
 THE AZURE HOSE. 37 
 
 Italy, and never saw a clear sky. The truth is, we 
 take our ideas of Italian skies from English- poets, 
 who, not having an opportunity of seeing the sun 
 at home, above once or twice a year, vault into rap 
 tures, with the delight of sunshine on the continent. 
 Those of our countrymen, who judge for themselves, 
 have assured me, that in no part of Europe, have 
 they ever seen such beautiful blue skies, such starry 
 fiamaments, and such a pure transparent air, as our 
 summer and autumns present almost every day, and 
 every night. And as to their Venus de Medicis, I 
 need not go out of the room, to satisfy myself that 
 there is no necessity for a voyage to Europe, to 
 meet goddesses that shame all the beauties of anti 
 quity ;" and he bowed all round, to the ladies, who 
 each took the compliment herself, and pardoned his 
 numerous heresies, on the score of his orthodoxy in 
 one particular. 
 
 " I am exactly the. height o/ the Vjenus de Medi 
 cine," said little Mrs. Coates ; and forgot the slan 
 der on the English skies. "You mean to go to 
 Europe, and visit -Almanacks." 
 
 " For what, madam to see a company of well 
 dressed men and women, who look exactly like our 
 selves; only the ladies are not half so handsome ; 
 nor do they dance half so well? No, if I go abroad 
 at all, it will be to learn properly to estimate the 
 happiness of my own country." 
 
 The ladies, though they could not get over 
 the silly, and vulgar notion of the superiority of
 
 THE AZURE HOSE. 
 
 society abroad, all thought Highfield a very polite,, 
 agreeable young fellow ; and Lucia found herself 
 on the very threshold of relishing a little common 
 sense. The party soon after separated ; having 
 spent a most improving morning. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 Showing the great benefits arising 1 from having a discreet Irieiid 
 
 THOUGH years bring with them wisdom, yet there 
 is one lesson the aged seldom learn, namely, the 
 management of youthful feelings. Age is all head, 
 youth all heart ; age reasons, youth feels ; age acts 
 under the influence of disappointment, youth under 
 the dominion of hope. What wonder, then, that 
 they so seldom should agree ? Mr. Lee had, for 
 more than half a score of years, been pondering on 
 the beautiful congruity of a match between hi? 
 daughter and his nephew. He had enough for both ; 
 they were of a corresponding age ; both handsome, 
 amiable, and intelligent ; and they had been brought 
 up together, until within the last few years that 
 Highfield remained at college. It was the most 
 reasonable, the most likely, and the most natural, 
 that they should fall in love, marry, and be happy.
 
 THE AZURE HOSE. 
 
 Therefore, he had long since determined in his own 
 mind, that they should fall in love, marry, and be 
 happy. A.las ! poor gentleman ; even experience 
 had failed in teaching him, that the most likely 
 things in the world are the least likely to come to 
 pass ! He communicated his plans to his friend, Mr. 
 F airweather : 
 
 " I intend Highfield shall live with us," said he, 
 " and thus he will have every opportunity to make 
 himself agreeable." 
 
 " You had better forbid him the house," said the 
 other. 
 
 "Forbid him the I shall do no such thing," 
 
 said Mr. Lee, somewhat nettled ; " but you are not 
 serious ?" 
 
 " Faith am I." 
 
 ."How so?" 
 
 Mr. Fairweather was of the Socratic school, 
 without knowing much of Socrates ; for he held the 
 ancients in little respect. 
 
 "Have you not observed, my good friend," said 
 he, " that matrimony does not in general answer the 
 great end of human happiness ?" 
 
 " Now I tell you what, Mr. Fairweather, I know 
 what you are after ; you want to catch me in your 
 confounded, crooked interrogatives ; but it wont do, 
 tell you it wont do, sir," said Mr. Lee, chafing. 
 
 " No, no, upon honour, I have no such intention; 
 only answer me frankly. Have you not made the 
 observation ?"
 
 40 THE AZUKE HOSE. 
 
 " Well, then, I have," answered Mr. Lee, whit 
 =ome hesitation, and feeling exactly like a fly in the 
 anticipation of being caught in a cobweb. 
 
 " Very well : don't you think this arises from 
 their seeing too much of each other becoming too 
 intimate and thus losing the guard which the little, 
 salutary restraints of the constitution of society 
 interpose before marriage, giving way, in con 
 sequence, to a display of temper and habits, that 
 \veakens if not destroys affection ?" 
 
 " Certainly certainly I do," quoth the other. 
 
 "Very well: do not two young people, living 
 together in the same house, associating on terms of 
 the most perfect intimacy, also see a great deal of 
 each other, calculated to unveil the mysteries ia 
 which love delights to shroud his glorious de 
 ceptions ? The young lady comes down to 
 breakfast, with her hair in papers an old, faded, 
 black silk or calico frock a shoe out at the sides, 
 and a hole in her stocking she scolds the servant, 
 and gets into a passion ; for it is impossible to be 
 always a hypocrite and ten to one they become so 
 easy together, that they will not scruple at last to 
 contradict, quarrel, and at length care no more for 
 each other, than people generally do who have had 
 a free opportunity of seeing all their faults at full 
 length. 
 
 "All this is very true ; but then but go on, sir." 
 
 " Very well the case stands thus : Marriages 
 *re seldom very happy why? because the parties
 
 
 THE AZURE HOSE. 41 
 
 are too much together why ? because they live in 
 the same house, and see all each other's faults. 
 Ergo, if you want two young persons to become 
 attached, and marry, you should take a course di 
 rectly opposite to that of matrimony. Instead of 
 shutting your daughter and nephew up together, 
 your best way will be, as I said before, to turn him 
 out of doors." 
 
 " There ! there ! I knew you'd have me at last : 
 I felt you were all the time drawing your infernal 
 cobwebs round me. Sir, you're enough to provoke 
 a saint, with your Socratics." 
 
 " I never meddle with Socrates, or Socratics, my 
 good friend ; but Socrates, notwithstanding his 
 ignorance of steamboats, spinning jennies, railroads, 
 and chemistry, is upon the whole good authority in 
 cases of the kind we are discussing. He certainly 
 saw too much of his lady." 
 
 " Then you seriously advise me to turn my ne 
 phew out of doors, to bring about a union ? Why 
 I did threaten it the other day, and Lucia told me 
 if I did, she would certainly let him in again." 
 
 " Why, my dear friend, here you have the whole 
 secret of the matter. Only persuade the young lady 
 that you don't approve of the young gentleman for a 
 son-in-law, and the business is done." 
 
 " Confound it ; be serious, can't you ? I want 
 your advice as a friend." 
 
 " Well, I have given it, and you don't like it. I 
 
 ink it best then that you try the other extreme, 
 4*
 
 4ii fBE AZURE HOSE. 
 
 and shut them up together all day in the same room. 
 Don't you think, my good friend, that upon the 
 \vhole much of the misery of married life arises 
 from young people not being sufficiently acquainted 
 with the habits and tempers of each other before 
 hand?" 
 
 " Certainly, certainly." 
 
 " Very well : and don't you think the best way ol 
 obviating that evil, is to let them see as much of one 
 another as possible ?" 
 
 Here Mr. Lee made his friend a most profound 
 and reverential bow. "I remember," said he,. 
 ' having read, in Monsieur Rabelais, that the great 
 Panurge, being inclined to marry, consulted divers 
 philosophers without success, when the thought 
 came across him to ask the opinion of a fool, who 
 soon satisfied his doubts on the subject : I shall 
 follow his example." Whereupon he seized his hat 
 and stumped out of the room, followed by his friend. 
 But they did not separate ; they stuck together like 
 a pair of wool-cards with the teeth standing opposite 
 ways, and finished the morning, the best friends its. 
 the world.
 
 m 
 ' -'-v^J 
 
 THE AZURE HOSE.' - < 48 
 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 Pure Azure. 
 
 MR. LEE, after troubling himself exceedingly in 
 concocting and maturing a plan to bring about a 
 speedy union between his daughter and nephew, at 
 length in despair hit upon the best in the world, 
 which was to let matters take their own course, and 
 leave the event to Providence. Had he persevered 
 in this, it had been all the better ; but I profess to 
 have heard a vast many people talk of trusting to 
 Providence, who still would be meddling and putting 
 in their oar, and spoiling every thing. However, 
 it is necessary to the happiness of mankind, that they 
 should fancy themselves the spiders that weave the 
 web, instead of the flies that are caught in it. 
 
 In the meantime, Lucia and Highfield were much 
 together. Lucia liked him extremely; she liked 
 his good humour, his vivacity, his spirit, and his 
 generous forgetfulness of himself; she even thought 
 him rather handsome, and quite a sensible young 
 man. But her ideas of men had been formed from 
 the declamations of the azure club, with which she 
 had been intimately associated for the last few years. 
 Tt was here that she learned to consider words of
 
 44 THE AZURE HOSK. 
 
 much more consequence than actions, talents than 
 temper, enthusiasm than common sense, and an titter 
 incapacity for usefulness as the best test of genius. 
 She was often struck with the manly sense and 
 unpretending beauty of Highfield's sentiments ; but 
 then they were expressed with such a nakedness, 
 such a poverty of words, such a natural simplicity, 
 that all the azures pronounced him a very common 
 place sort of a person, that would never set the 
 world crying about nothing, or be himself miserable 
 without cause. 
 
 "For my part," said Goshawk, "I like subli 
 mity, obscurity, grandeur, mistiness I hate a 
 speech, or a passage, that I can comprehend at the 
 first glance. Give me, to grope in the whirlwind ; 
 mount into the depths of the multitudinous ocean 
 dive into the evanescent fleecy clouds, that gallop 
 on the midnight sunbeams, that sparkle in yon star- 
 spangled attic story and grapple with the chaos of 
 the mind." And he sank on the sofa, overpowered 
 with his emotions. 
 
 "And I," exclaimed Miss Appleby, holding a 
 smelling bottle to his inspired nose, " I delight to 
 fling " here she flourished a pinch of snuff she 
 held between her thumb and finger right into the 
 expanded nostrils of the great Puddingham, who 
 began to sneeze like ten tom-cats ; " I delight to 
 toss back the curtains of night and darkness to 
 climb those unfathomable abysses where lurk the trea 
 sures of inspired thought, glittering like the eternal
 
 THE AZURE HOSE. 45 
 
 snows of the inaccessible Andes. 1 love to rise on 
 the wings of the moonbeam sink under the weight 
 of the zephyr and lose myself in the impenetrable 
 brightness of transcendant genius, giving to the 
 winds their whistle, the waves their roar, the stars 
 their brightness, and the sun its fires." 
 
 " And I," cried little Mrs. Coates, " as Sir Ri 
 chard Gammon used to say, prefer those soul-inr 
 fusing alligators, that stir the mountain spirit up to 
 the dromedary of fever heat " 
 
 " The dromedary of fever heat!" said Roth, 
 " what sort of a dromedary is that ?" 
 
 Lucia whispered Mrs. Coates, who replied in some 
 agitation, 
 
 " I mean allegory and thermometer. How could 
 I make such a mistake ? But I was carried away 
 by the intensity of my feelings. I like " 
 
 Each one of the party was now so anxious to tell 
 what they liked, that there was no one but High- 
 field to listen. Even Lucia mingled her tuneful 
 nonsense with the incomprehensible olio. There was 
 not one of these good people that would not have made 
 a decent figure in life, in their proper sphere, as in 
 deed all persons do, had they only been content 
 to keep within it, and talk common sense on or 
 dinary occasions, refraining from afiecting enthusi 
 asm when there was nothing to excite it. A pause 
 at length ensuing, Miss Appleby turned suddenly 
 to Highfield, and asked him,
 
 40 THE AZURE HOSE. 
 
 "O Mr. Highfield, I hope you admire those 
 beautiful historical romances, and romantic histo 
 ries, that come out every day now-a-days ? What 
 a charming thing it is to read novels, and study 
 history at the same time !" 
 
 " Why in truth, madam," said Highfield, " I don't 
 pretend to criticism, and hardly ever read reviews, 
 when I can find any thing else to read." 
 
 " Not read reviews !" 
 
 " Not read the Edinburgh !" cried Mr. Rotfc, 
 who never uttered an opinion that he did not get 
 from that renowned Scottish oracle. 
 
 "Not read the Quarterly!" exclaimed Pudding- 
 ham, who was a believer in the infallibility of the 
 English oracle. 
 
 "Not read the Westminster!" screamed Miss 
 Overend, who worshipped at that shrine. 
 
 " Nor the Liquorary Gazette !" quoth little Mrs. 
 Coates. 
 
 " Well then, let us hear your opinion, sir," at 
 length said Puddingham, with a supercilious air, 
 implying that it was not worth hearing. 
 
 " Such as it is, you are welcome to it. I confess 
 I do not agree with those who believe that a know 
 ledge of history may be obtained by studying ro 
 mances. The very name of romance presuppose? 
 fiction ; and how is the reader, unless already cri 
 tically versed in history, to distinguish between what 
 is fact and what is fiction ? The probability is, that 
 he will jumble them together, and thus lose all per-
 
 f 
 
 THE AZURE HOSE. 
 
 ception of what is history, and what romance. He 
 may come in time to mistake one for the other, and 
 confound a Waverly novel with Hume, or the Tales 
 of my Landlord with Plutarch's Lives." 
 
 " Ah ! that Plutarch's Lives is a delightful ro 
 mance," exclaimed Mrs. Coates. 
 
 "Romance!" said Highfield ; "my dear ma 
 dam, I am afraid you are already in the state of 
 doubt I hinted at. Plutarch's Lives compose one 
 of the best authenticated memorials of history 
 every word is true." 
 
 " Well," cried Mrs. Coates, " did ever any 
 body hear of such an imposition ! Every thing 
 is so perfectly natural, I took it for a historical 
 romance. I am resolved never to read another word 
 of it." 
 
 " Many besides yourself, madam," said Highfield, 
 smiling, " have lost their relish for truth, by a habit 
 of reading little else than the daily succession of 
 half-truth, half-fiction productions, perpetually issu 
 ing from the press. I think I could give a receipt, 
 which would enable any person of ordinary intellect 
 to concoct one of these at least twice a year, without 
 any extraordinary exertion." 
 
 " Oh let us hear it by all means," said Pudding- 
 ham, superciliously. 
 
 " Aliens," said the other. " Take a smattering 
 of history ; a little knowledge of old costumes and 
 phraseology; a little superstition, consisting of a
 
 48 THE AZtTRE HOSE. 
 
 belief in clouds^ dreams, and omens ; a very little 
 invention, just enough to disguise the truth of his 
 tory ; a very little vein of a story, with very little 
 connection ; a mighty hero, and a very little heroine. 
 With these, compound a couple of volumes of actions 
 without motive, and motives with or without action ; 
 adventures that have no agency in producing the 
 catastrophe, and a catastrophe without any connec 
 tion with the adventures. Put all these in a book, 
 cement them together, with plenty of high-sounding 
 declamations, and get a certificate from an English 
 review, or newspaper, and you have a romance, of 
 which more copies will be sold in a fortnight, than 
 of the best history in the world in a year." 
 
 " By the by," said Miss Appleby, " have you 
 read Moore's Life of Byron, and heard that Mur 
 ray, the great London bookseller, has purchased 
 the copy-right of his minor poems, for three thou 
 sand seven hundred guineas ?" 
 
 " What a proof of the prodigious superiority of 
 his genius!" cried Miss Overend. "I have read 
 that Milton sold his Paradise Lost for twelve 
 pounds." 
 
 " What a noble testimony to the wonderful deve- 
 lopement of mind!" cried Puddingham. "But I 
 believe, Mr. Highfield, you don't believe in the vast 
 improvement of the age ?" added he, in his usual 
 pompous vein. 
 
 "Not much," replied the other; "I think lin 
 age of Milton was quite as learned and wise as the
 
 THE AZURE HOSE. 49 
 
 present. If Milton were now living, an obscure 
 author, or obnoxious politician, I doubt whether 
 Murray would give him twelve pounds for his Pa 
 radise Lost, at a venture, unless indeed he could 
 secure a favourable review.' ' 
 
 " What a divine misanthrope was Lord Byron ?" 
 exclaimed Miss Appleby ; " how I should glory in 
 being loved by a man that hated all the rest of the 
 world!" 
 
 "My dear madam," said Highfield, "wouldn't 
 you be afraid he might kill you with kindness ?" 
 
 "I wouldn't care to die such a glorious death." 
 
 " And so uncommon too. You would be immor 
 talized, if only on account of its rarity." 
 
 " Oh, he was a jewel of a man ! Such an inspired 
 contempt for his fellow-creatures ! Don't you think 
 this a certain sign of his superiority over the rest 
 of the world?" 
 
 " And don't you think his utter disregard of the 
 customs and prejudices of society a proof of his lofty 
 genius ?" added Miss Overend. 
 
 " Why no, I can't say I do. But I have no dis 
 position to find fault with the dead it is against an 
 old maxim I learned at college." 
 
 " It is much easier to give an opinion than to sup 
 port it," said the sententious Puddingh am. "Pray 
 give us your reasons, Mr. Highfield." 
 
 " I had rather not,'.' said he ; " I am somewhat tired 
 of his Lordship, and heartily wish his cruel biogra- 
 i
 
 50 THE AZURE HOSE. 
 
 pliers would let his memory rest in peace." 
 they all insisted. 
 
 " Well then, since I can't get off with honour, I 
 must not disgrace myself before this good company. 
 In the first place, I don't believe his Lordship de 
 spised the world, whose applause and admiration 
 he was continually seeking. His contempt was sheer 
 affectation. But if he had really despised it, I 
 should have a worse opinion of him." 
 
 " As how, my good sir ?" said Puddingham. 
 
 " Because I consider misanthropy a proof of either 
 weakness or wickedness. One may become justly 
 indifferent to this world, but to hate it seems to me 
 only a proof that a man is bad himself, and wants an 
 excuse for indulging his wicked propensities, by 
 robbing his fellow-creatures of all claim to the exer 
 cise of justice and benevolence. He is like the pi 
 rate, who throws away his allegiance, only that he 
 may make war on all the world. To divest man 
 kind of all the virtues, as does the misanthrope, is to 
 free ourselves virtually from all moral obligations 
 towards them." 
 
 Here the great Puddingham took an emphatic 
 pinch of snuff; and after sneezing violently, said, 
 " Go on, sir ; go on." 
 
 "Neither do I believe that a disregard to the 
 common maxims of life, is proof of a superior 
 mind. Men of great genius, indeed, very often pay 
 little attention to mere fashions, and fashionable opi 
 nions, because these have nothing to do with the set-
 
 THE AZURE HOSE. 51 
 
 tied principles of religion or morality. But so far 
 as respects my own reading, or experience, I never 
 met with a man of very extraordinary powers of 
 mind, who despised or disregarded those ordinary 
 maxims of life, which are essential to the very exist 
 ence of society ; much less have I met one of this 
 class who prostituted his genius to the injury of mo 
 rals and religion, or devoted himself exclusively to 
 low, grovelling, mischievous attempts to weaken 
 their influence on mankind. I have never found such 
 men, for ever wallowing in the mire of sensuality, or 
 indulging a malicious misanthropy, by sarcasms and 
 reasonings against social ties and duties. Shall I 
 go on ?" said Highfield, after a pause. 
 
 " Oh, by all means," said Puddingham, conde 
 scendingly. 
 
 " The world of fashion has been pleased to place 
 Lord Byron by the side, if not on a level, with the great 
 names of ancient and modern literature ; and what 
 ever may be my own opinion, I am to estimate him 
 by that standard if I please. But 1 don't please 
 to do so. He will not bear a comparison with any 
 of these. A great genius always devotes himself to 
 great subjects ; or if he sometimes condescends to 
 trifle, it is only by way of a little relaxation. We 
 do not find Homer, Virgil, Dante, Tasso, Milton, 
 and others of the great * heirs of immortality,' at 
 tempting to reach the highest summit of fame 
 through the dirty, winding paths of ribaldry and 
 .sensuality -converting their muse into a pander to
 
 52c, THE AZURE HOSE. 
 
 vice, or tilting against society and morals, and, 
 both by example and precept, inciting to the 
 violation of the highest duties of man to man, and 
 man to woman. Their genius was nobly exercised 
 in celebrating the glories of their country the tri 
 umphs of their religion the renown of virtuous he 
 roes and the beauties of fortitude, disinterestedness, 
 magnanimity, justice, and patriotism. We never find 
 the highest gift of Heaven, coupled with the lowest 
 propensities to profligacy and vice. It is only your 
 second or third rate men, who are found pleading 
 an exemption from the duties and obligations of mo 
 rality, on the score of their superior genius. To 
 my taste, Lord Byron is, besides all this, infinitely 
 below the first rank of poets, in sublimity, inven 
 tion, pathos, and especially in the power of express 
 ing his ideas and feelings with that happy force and 
 richness, combined with that clearness and simpli 
 city, for which they are so pre-eminently distinguish 
 ed. There is, to my mind, more genius in Milton's 
 Comus, than in all his Lordship's poetry put to 
 gether. As a dramatic writer, he cannot compare 
 with I put Shakspeare, Otway, Corneille, Racine, 
 and Voltaire, out of the question but with Beau 
 mont and Fletcher, Southern, Dryden, and a dozen 
 others. Childe Harold, though containing many 
 passages of great beauty, is without plot or inven 
 tion the mere unpurposed wanderings of a splenetic 
 misanthrope, kindled into occasional wrath, or en 
 thusiasm, by the sight of things at the road side.
 
 THE AZURE HOSE. 
 
 and apparently incapable of any other inspiration 
 but what is derived from sensible objects. The 
 Corsair, The Giaour, and Don Juan, are nothing 
 more than the abstracted, contemplative Childe Ha 
 rold, carrying his feelings and principles into prac 
 tical application. The Childe merely thinks as a 
 profligate the others act the character; the two 
 first in heroics, the latter in doggrel and buffoonery. 
 They are the same person, in a different mask and 
 that person"seems to be Lord Byron himself. As a 
 satirist, he is far behind Dry den, Pope, and even 
 Churchill ; and as a writer of quaint doggrel, he 
 is inferior to Peter Pindar, in humour, waggish- 
 ness, and satirical drollery. And now, after utter 
 ing this shocking blasphemy, I humbly take my 
 leave." So saying, he seized his hat, and retreated 
 with great precipitation. 
 
 This was' the longest speech onr hero ever utter 
 ed ; and if he should take it into his head to make 
 such another in the course of this history, he must 
 get one of the reporters to congress to record it, for 
 I demur to undertake the task in future. Never 
 man met with so little applause for attempting to en 
 lighten people against their will, as did our friend 
 Highfield on this occasion. The whole coterie, Lucia 
 among the rest, was scandalized at this atrocious 
 criticism, and separated in confusion. Mr. Fitz- 
 giles Goshawk escorted Lucia home, and discoursed 
 as seldom man in his senses, talking to a woman in 
 hers, ever discoursed before. 
 5*
 
 54 THE AZUKE HOSE. 
 
 He spoke of being sick of the world ; disgusted 
 with the Iieartlessness of mankind ; depressed and 
 worn out with the intensity of his feelings, and de 
 voured by a secret grief, which must never be known 
 until he had gained a refuge from care and sorrow,, 
 in the quiet grave. All this he uttered in language 
 I confess myself inadequate to record ; and with an 
 affectation that must have been apparent to any one 
 but an inexperienced girl. On going away he gave 
 into Lucia's hand a paper, accompanied by a look 
 that went straight to her heart. She retired to her 
 chamber, and unfolding it with trembling hands, 
 found the following exquisite effusion : 
 
 TO LUCIA. 
 
 I've seen the rose-bud glittering on its stalk, 
 And morning' sunbeams blushing round its head. 
 
 And many a wild flower greeting my lone walk. 
 And many a wither 5 d wanderer lying dead ; 
 
 And I have sigh'd, and yet I knew not why, 
 
 And listen'd to sweet nature's lulling lullaby. 
 
 And I have heard the woodman's mellow eong, 
 And sober herds winding their pensive way, 
 
 And echoing cow bells, tinkling forth ding-dong, ' 
 And plowman whistling forth his roundelay 
 
 And wept to think, ah ! luckless, loveless I, 
 
 I could not die to live, nor live to die ! 
 
 And I have dwelt on beauty's angel smile, 
 
 And smiling beauty in its winsome glee, 
 
 \nd ponder'd on my weary way the while ; 
 
 And my heart sunk, and panted sore, ah me : 
 i And my full breast did swell, and sorely sigh ; 
 \nd shudder to its core, alas ! I know not why
 
 ,* * 
 
 THE AZURE HOSE. 55 
 
 -Ah ! lady list thee to my pensive lays, 
 
 And give a sigh to my sad, sighing fate ; 
 And ponder o'er life's wild mysterious maze ; 
 
 And pity him who feels its stifling weight, 
 And sighs to think, and thinks to sigh again ; 
 And finds pain pleasure, pleasure pining pain ! 
 
 How delightful, thought Lucia, wiping her eyes; 
 how delightful it must be to be unhappy, without 
 kno wing -exactly why ! To be able to gather the 
 honey of sweet melancholy, from the flowers, the 
 fruits, the smiles, and the beauties of nature ! To 
 weep, where vulgar souls would sport and laugh ! 
 To complain without reason ; and to banquet on the 
 lonely musings of a heart overfraught with the ex 
 quisite sensibilities of genius! And she sighed over 
 the fate of this interesting man, who was thus pining 
 away, under some secret grief. She put the inspir 
 ed morceau into her bosom ; and that day, at least, 
 the genius of Goshawk triumphed over the good 
 sense, the manliness, and the wholesome, healthful 
 vivacit} 7 of Highfield. 
 
 I feel I ought, in justice, to apologize for my he 
 roine, who had sense enough from nature to have 
 detected the mawkish folly, incomprehensible non 
 sense, and silly affectation of this poetical grief of 
 Mr. Fitzgiles Goshawk. All I can say in her de 
 fence is, that she had been brought up in the midst 
 of the azure coterie, all the members of which, were 
 considerably older than herself ; had been every day 
 accustomed to hear them praise Mr. Goshawk, and 
 to hear Mr. Goshawk's poetry. She had grown up
 
 56 THE AZUEE HOSE. 
 
 in habitual veneration for them all ; and even the no 
 torious blunders of her aunt, were hallowed, by 
 coming from the sister of her mother. Those who 
 know the spell, which wrong precepts and early bad 
 examples wind about the finest understanding, and 
 how slowly and with what labour it emancipates itself, 
 will, I hope, excuse my heroine. Such as she is, I 
 shall endeavour to exhibit her, hoping, that time and 
 experience will yet make her what she was intended 
 to be by nature. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 The story hastens slowly. 
 
 TUB father of Lucia, though he had not become 
 quite a sage had yet derived considerable benefit 
 from experience. Time is as much the friend, as the 
 enemy of man ; and while he plants the wrinkles on 
 our foreheads, makes some amends, by sowing the 
 seeds of wisdom in the mind. Mr. Lee had come 
 to the conclusion, that the best way of bringing 
 about a union of hearts, was to keep the secret of 
 his wishes to himself; and let Lucia and Highfield 
 follow the guidance of dame nature. There is 
 something in the stubborn heart of man, and woman,
 
 . 
 
 THE AZUBE HOSE. 57 
 
 that revolts at becoming the dupe of a plan, even if 
 it be one for bringing about exactly what it wishes 
 above all things. I have seen an over anxious mo 
 ther drive a young man from her house, only by dis 
 covering a vehement desire to forward a match be 
 tween him, and the very daughter he would have se 
 lected, if left to himself. In truth, we overdo things 
 in this world, quite as often as we neglect what is 
 necessary to be done. The parent, who is perpetu 
 ally watching the little child, and cautioning it 
 against harm, for the most part, only excites a curi 
 ous longing, to try the experiment, and judge for it 
 self; and so it is with grown-up children, who, like 
 infants, are only to be warned by their own experi 
 ence ; and whom perpetual cautions, recommenda 
 tions, and supervision, too often only incite to mis 
 chiefs, of which they might otherwise never have 
 dreamed. If there ever was a period of the world, 
 in which these maxims were exemplified, it is doubt 
 less the present ; when, if the truth must be told, so 
 much pains have been taken, by well meaning peo 
 ple, with better hearts than heads, to improve man 
 kind, that they have at length, become, as it were, 
 little better than good for nothing. But let us re 
 turn to our story. 
 
 Both Highfield and Lucia, it is believed, re 
 mained quite unconscious of the intentions of the 
 old gentleman towards them. The former, was eve 
 ry day hinting, in the most delicate manner, his wish 
 to enter upon some honourable pursuit, by which he
 
 58 THE AZUBE HOSE. 
 
 might attain to independence, if not distinction. 
 But the old gentleman always put him off, with 
 " Time enough, Charles time enough ; look round 
 a little, and consider a good deal, before you make 
 your choice." Highfield was in a situation of peculiar 
 delicacy, for a high spirited, honourable man ; and he 
 refrained from further importunity. Yet still he did 
 not feel satisfied ; he was dependent ; and if I 
 were to mark out the dividing line, that separates 
 man from other men, it should be here. On one 
 side I would place those, whose manhood rises above 
 the degradation of a dependence on any thing but 
 their own heads, hands, and hearts ; and on the 
 other, those inferior beings, who are content to be 
 a burthen upon their fathers, or their friends, rather 
 than launch into the ocean of life, and buffet the 
 billows. 
 
 Highfield belonged to the former class. He 
 longed to make himself a useful and honourable 
 citizen, by the exercise of his talents and indus 
 try. He had also another motive. It is quite 
 impossible for two persons, especially of different 
 sexes, to live together, in the same house, and pre 
 serve a perfect indifference towards each other. 
 They will either take a liking, or a decided dis 
 like. If they are very young, this will probably 
 ripen into love, or antipathy. Lucia was a little too 
 much of the azure ; but I have seen the time, not 
 quite half a century ago, when such a woman, would 
 have wakened, in my heart a hundred sleeping cu-
 
 THE AZURE HOSE. 59 
 
 pids. There was that about her, which, for want of 
 some other phrase, we call attractive a charm, 
 which, so far as I have ever analyzed it, consists in a 
 well made figure not tall ; a face of mild gentle 
 ness mingled with vivacity ; not always laughing, 
 nor ever gloomy ; always neat, yet never over-dress 
 ed, for no woman can ever touch the heart, though 
 she may overpower the senses by her splendours ; a 
 graceful quiet motion ; a soft, melting, mello\v 
 voice ; and a heart, and an understanding, the one, 
 all nature, the other nature embellished not spoil 
 ed, by culture and accomplishments. Such a wo 
 man, though she may not dazzle or mislead the 
 imagination, carries with her, the true, moral, mag 
 netic influence, which lurks as it were unseen ; 
 emits no gaudy splendours, but with a mysterious 
 inscrutable power attracts, and fixes every kindred 
 sympathy with which it comes in contact. Such, in 
 her natural state, was Lucia Lightfoot Lee, a love 
 ly maiden, but alas ! a little too much of the azure. 
 Highfield had not been long an inmate of his un 
 cle's house, before he began to feel the force of that 
 magnetic influence I have just described ; and, the 
 moment he became conscious of it, his anxiety to 
 leave his uncle, and pursue some mode of indepen 
 dent existence, became stronger. 
 
 His sense of honour was not only nice, but punc 
 tilious. He was poor and dependent ; Lucia was 
 an heiress. Had he believed it in his power to gain 
 the affections pf his cousin, he would have despised
 
 60 THE AZURE HOSE. 
 
 himself for the attempt. But he saw that her ima 
 gination, if not her heart, was captivated by the 
 empty but showy accomplishments of Mr. Goshawk ; 
 and the hope of success was not strong enough to 
 blind him to the meanness of the attempt. He 
 began to be much from home ; and when at home, 
 absent and inattentive ; though his natural spirits 
 kept him from being gloomy or unsocial. Lucia 
 was too much occupied with Mr. Fitzgiles Goshawk 
 and his mysterious sorrows, to notice this ; but the 
 old gentleman began to be fidgety and impatient 
 at the unpromising prospect of his favourite plan. 
 
 " What is the matter with you and Lucia r" said 
 he one day. 
 
 "Nothing, sir," replied Highfield, "we are very 
 good friends." 
 
 " Friends ! hum ha but you don't seem to like 
 each other as well as you did hey ? 
 
 " Like, sir uncle I am sure I have a great 
 friendship for Miss Lee." 
 
 "Ah ! hum ha friendship but don't you think 
 her a d d fine girl hey, boy ?" 
 
 " I do, indeed, sir. I think her a sensible, dis 
 creet, well behaved, promising young lady as you 
 will see." 
 
 "Ah ! yes sixteen hands high star iu the fore 
 head trots well canters easy full blooded and 
 three years old last grass hey ? one would think 
 you were praising a horse, instead of my daughter/' 
 said the old gentleman, getting into a passion apace.
 
 THE AZURE HOSE. 
 
 61 
 
 *' My dear uncle, excuse me. It does not become 
 me to speak of my cousin in such terms of admira 
 tion as I would do under different circumstances." 
 
 " Circumstances ! sir is there any circumstance 
 that ought to prevent your seeing like other young 
 men, and feeling and expressing yourself as they 
 da?" 
 
 " Pardon me, sir ; but I am jus^t now thinking of 
 quite a different matter." 
 
 "You don't say so, sir ! upon my word, my 
 daughter is very much obliged to you. But what 
 is the mighty affair ?" 
 
 " My excellent friend, don't be angry. If you 
 knew all, perhaps you would pity me. But I must 
 leave you, and seek my fortune indeed, I must. 1 
 urn wasting the best portion of my life in idleness." 
 
 "And suppose you are, what is that to you, sir, if 
 it is my pleasure ?" 
 
 " You have been a father to me, sir, and I owe 
 you both gratitude and obedience. But there are 
 duties to ourselves, which ought to be attended to. 
 I am but a dependent on your bounty, after all a 
 beggar" 
 
 "A beggar ! 'tis false, sir, you're not a beggar. 
 But I see how it is ; you want to be made inde 
 pendent ; you want me to make a settlement on 
 you ; you are not content to wait till an old man 
 closes his eyes you" 
 
 " Uncle," said Highfield, with his cheek burning 
 6
 
 62 THE AZUBE HOSE. 
 
 and bis eye glistening, "do you really believe me 
 such a despicable scoundrel ?" 
 
 " Why no I believe you are only a fool, that 
 is all. But I'll never forgive you ; you have de 
 ranged all my plans ; you have rejected the happi 
 ness I had in store for you ; you. will bring my gray 
 hairs with sorrow to the grave. Yes, yes, yes, I 
 see it, I see it I am doomed to be a miserable, 
 disappointed, heart-broken old man." 
 
 " For Heaven's sake, uncle, what is the matter?" 
 
 " Matter ! why the matter is, you are a block 
 head; you are dumb, deaf, blind; you haven't one 
 of the five senses in perfection, or you might have 
 known." 
 
 " Known what, sir ?" 
 
 "Why," roared the old gentleman, in a transport 
 of rage, "you might have seen that I intended you 
 for my son-in-law you blockhead ; that I meant to 
 leave you and Lucia all my estate you fool ; that 
 I had set my heart on it you you ungrateful 
 villain. But I'll be even with I'll disinherit you 
 
 I'll disown you I'll send you to the d 1, 
 
 sir, for your bare ingratitude I will." 
 
 Highfield stood a moment or two overpowered by 
 this unexpected disclosure of his uncle. He actually 
 trembled at the. prospect it opened before him. At 
 length he exclaimed : 
 
 " My best of friends, I never dreamed that such 
 WAS your intention." 
 
 " Why, sir, I have cherished it, lived upon it,
 
 THE AZURE HOSE. 03 
 
 ever since Lucia was born. Not know it? why 
 what a blind fool you must be !" 
 
 " But you never communicated it, 'sir, and how 
 could I know-it?" 
 
 " Why, ay, that is true indeed. When I think of 
 it, there is some excuse for you, as I never hinted my 
 intention. But it is all over now ; you want to ;* 1 
 leave us ^ and you think Lucia ' a sensible, discreet, 
 well behaved, promising young woman,' sixteen 
 hands high ;" mimicking poor Highfield, as he 
 repeated these panegyrics. 
 
 "I think her," said Highfield, "for noW I dare 
 speak what 1 think I thipk her all that a father 
 could wish ; all that a lover coul'd desire, in his 
 moments of most glowing anticipation. I think her 
 the loveliest, the best, the most accomplished, the 
 most angelic, the most divine !" 
 
 "Ah! that will do, that will do, boy; you talk 
 like a hero tol-de-rol-lol !" and the old gentleman 
 cut a most unprecedented caper. " Give me your 
 hand boy ; it's a bargain we'll have the wedding 
 next week." 
 
 "Ah, sir!" said the young man, with a sigh, *'I 
 doubt you know there is another person to be con 
 sulted." 
 
 "Another person! who do you mean, sir?" 
 
 " Your daughter, sir." 
 
 " Bless me ! that is true, kideed. I had forgot 
 that. But I'll soon bring the matter about. I'll 
 tell her it is the first wish of my heart : if she re-
 
 04 i'HE AZUBE HOSE. 
 
 uses, I'll talk reason to her. If she wont listen to 
 reason, I will talk to her like a father I'll let her 
 know who is master in this house, I warrant you. 
 I'll go this instant, and settle the matter." And the 
 old gentleman was proceeding to make good his 
 words. 
 
 " For Heaven's sake, sir, don't be in such a 
 hurry," cried Highfield eagerly ; " you will ruin me 
 and my hopes, if you proceed in such a hurry. 
 Alas ! sir, I fear it is too late now." 
 
 " What does the puppy mean ?" 
 
 " I fear my cousin's affections are already en 
 gaged." 
 
 "To whom, sir? tell me quick, quick, sir; to 
 whom ? I'll engage her, the baggage ; I'll let her 
 know who is who ; I'll teach her to throw away her 
 affections without consulting me I'll shut the door 
 in the scoundrel's face, and shut my daughter up in 
 
 her chamber I'll why the d 1, sir, don't you 
 
 answer me ; what do you stand there for, playing 
 dummy ? Tell me, sir, who is the villain that has 
 stolen my daughter's affections. ?" 
 
 " I do not say positively, sir, and I have no right 
 to betray the young lady's secrets ; but I fear Mr. 
 Goshawk has made a deep impression on her heart." 
 
 Mr. Lee was never in so great a passion before : 
 not even with his man, Juba, of whom I could never 
 make up my mind to my satisfaction, whether he 
 was his master's master, or which was the better 
 man of the two. Juba was of the blood royal of 
 Monomotapa, a mighty African kingdom. He had 

 
 THE AZURE HOSE. 65 
 
 been in the family long enough to outlive three 
 generations, and thus fairly acquired a right to be 
 as crusty as his master, who, if the truth must be 
 told, was terribly henpecked by the royal exile. The 
 old gentleman once had a dispute at his own table 
 with one of his neighbours at the south, and some 
 words passed between them. 
 
 " Massa," said Juba, when .the company had 
 retired, " massa, we can't put up wid dat must call 
 um out." 
 
 The good gentleman quietly submitted, and 
 called oiit his neighbour, who fortunately apolo 
 gized. 
 
 " Icod, massa," said Juba, " we brought um to 
 de bull-ring, didn't we ?" 
 
 But to return from this commemoration of our old 
 friend, Juba., 
 
 Mr. Lee was in a towering passion. Of all the 
 men he had ever seen, known, or read of, Mr. 
 Goshawk was the one for whom he cherished the 
 most special and particular antipathy. He consi 
 dered him an empty, idle, shallow, affected coxcomb, 
 without heart or intellect; a pretender to literary 
 taste and acquirements ; a contemner of useful 
 knowledge and pursuits, whose sole business was to 
 exhibit feelings to which he was a stranger ; to ex 
 cite sympathy for affected sorrows ; and to impose 
 upon the susceptible follies of ancient spinsters or 
 inexperienced girls. " The fellow carries a drum 
 in his head," would he say, " and is for ever sound- 
 6*
 
 tki Tin; AZUKE UOSK. ^ 
 
 ing false alarms. You think he is going to play a 
 grand march, but it is nothing but rub-a-dub rub- 
 ^ a-dub, over and over again." 
 
 " Goshawk !" at length he cried, " I'll disinherit 
 her, as sure. as I am alive. What! that starved 
 epitome of a wind-dried rhymester ; that shadow of 
 a shadow of a shadow of a stringer of doggrel ; 
 that imitator of an imitator in the sixteenth degree 
 of consanguinity to an original ; that blower of the 
 bellows to the last spark of an expiring fancy ! Con 
 found me, if I had not rather have heard she had 
 fallen in love with the trumpeter to a puppet show." 
 
 " My dear uncle, I don't say my cousin is actually 
 in love with Mr. Goshawk; but I think she has a 
 preference ; a a at least, I am pretty sure, her 
 imagination is full of his genius, eloquence, and 
 beautiful poetry." 
 
 " Genius, eloquence, poetry pish ! I could make 
 a better poem out of a confectioner's mottos, than 
 he will ever write. But she shall either renounce 
 him this minute, or I will renounce her." 
 
 Highfield begged his uncle to pause, before he 
 proceeded to such extremities. He reasoned with 
 him on the bad policy of rousing into opposition, a 
 feeling, which was perhaps only latent, and giving 
 it the stimulus of anger, by assailing it too roughly. 
 He cautioned him against the common error of sup 
 posing, that to forbid a thing, was the best possible 
 way of preventing its coming to pass ; or that love 
 \vas to be quelled by a puff of opposition. He con-
 
 & 
 
 ;* m 
 
 67 
 
 jured him to say nothing on the subject; to look on 
 without interfering ; to appear as if he neither saw, 
 or participated in any thing going forward. 
 
 "If," said he, " I am not deceived in my love 
 ly and sensible cousin, it is only necessary to leave 
 her good sense and growing experience to operate, 
 and before long they will, of themselves, indicate 
 to her the error of tier taste and imagination. But 
 if I should be deceived in this rational anticipation," 
 added he, proudly and firmly ; " if I find that her 
 heart is seriously and permanently attached, I give 
 you my honour, I pledge my unalterable determina 
 tion, that I will not permit myself to be either the 
 motive or the instrument, for forcing her inclina- j| 
 tions. If I cannot win her fairly, and against the 
 field, so help me Heaven, I will never wear her." 
 
 " You talk like a professor, and a blockhead to 
 
 df' ' 
 
 boot," said Mr. Lee, half pleased and -half offend 
 ed " But hark ye, Mr. Highfield, if I take your ad 
 vice, and it turns out badly, I'll disinherit you both." 
 
 " With all my heart, uncle, so far as respects my 
 self. Only say nothing ; do nothing ; and let matters 
 take iheir course. We often make things crooked 
 by taking too much pains to straighten them. * Let 
 us alone,' as the anti-tariff folks say." 
 
 "Your most humble servant, sir," quoth Mr. 
 Lee, with a profound bow " I am to play Mr. No 
 body then, in this trifling affair of the disposal of 
 my only child ?"
 
 I is THE AZURE HOSE. 
 
 " Only for a little while sir, when you shall re 
 sume the sceptre again." 
 
 * "And with which, I shall certainly break thy 
 head, if thy wise plan should happen to fail.". 
 
 " Agreed, Uncle. I shall then be broken headed, 
 as well as broken hrarted. For, by heaven, I love 
 my cousin, well enough to" 
 
 "To resign her to an empty, heartless, brainless 
 coxcomb. But come, I give up the reins to my wise 
 Phaeton, who, if he don't burn up the world, I dare 
 swear will set the North river on fire. Here comes 
 Fairweather, I will consult him, though I know the 
 old blockhead will be of a contrary opinion, as he 
 always is. Go, and make a bow to Lucia ; play 
 Mr. Goshawk, and talk as much like a madman as 
 possible." 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 More pure azure. 
 
 HIGHFIELD sought Lucia, and found her sitting at 
 u window, which looked out upon the beautiful bay, 
 where the fair and noble Hudson basks its beauties 
 for awhile in the sun, before it loses itself for ever 
 in the vast solitudes of the pathless sea. It was an
 
 V. 
 
 , >r- ' "% "* "** 
 
 THE A/IKE HOSE. 69 
 
 April morning, such as sometimes appears in the dis 
 guise of sunshine and zephyrs, to cheat us into a be 
 lief, that laughing jolly spring is come again. The 
 bay was one wide waveless mirror, along whose 
 surface lay here and there a little lazy mist lolling 
 in the warm sunbeams, or sometimes scudding along 
 before a frolic breeeze that rose in playful vigour, 
 and then died away in a moment. In some places, 
 the vessels appeared as if becalmed among the 
 clouds, their proportions looming in imposing 
 magnitude through the deceptive mists ; ~and in 
 others, you might see them exhaling the damps and 
 fogs condensed on their sails and decks, in clouds of 
 snow-white vapour. Here and there, you could 
 trace the course of a steamboat to the Kills, or the 
 Quarantine, by a long pennon of dark smoke, slow 
 ly expanding in the dampness of the circumambient 
 air, and anon see her shoot, as if by magic from 
 the distant obscurity. The grass had just begun to 
 put forth its spires of tender green ; the trees to as 
 sume an almost imperceptible purple tint, from the 
 expansion of the buds ; the noisy city lads were 
 spinning tops, flying kites, or shooting marbles, in 
 the walks ; and now and then, a little feathered 
 stranger, cheated by the genial hour into a belief 
 that spring was come, chirped merrily among the 
 leafless branches. 
 
 Lucia was at the open window her rosy cheek 
 leaning pensively on her snowy hand. She had just . 
 finished reading, for the twentieth time, the pathetic
 
 , . < 
 
 70 THE AZURE HOSE. 
 
 and interesting effusion of Mr. Goshawk. All thai 
 she could understand from it was, that he was very, 
 very miserable, about something, she knew not what ; 
 and the very mystery of his sorrows invested them 
 with an indescribable, indefinable interest. Notbut 
 what our heroine had her suspicions, and those very 
 suspicions increased her sympathy a hundred fold. 
 "Unfortunate man!" would she say to herself, "he 
 is consuming in the secret fires kindled in his bosom 
 by the intense ardour of his genius, the acute sensi 
 bilities of his heart !" 
 
 Highfield was one of the most amiable of lovers, 
 who I must be allowed to say, nine out of ten de 
 serve to be turned out of doors by the fair objects 
 of their persecutions, once a day at least. If they 
 are in doubt, they are either stupidly silent Dr per 
 versely disagreeable ; if they are jealous, they look 
 and act just like fools ; and if successful, there is 
 an insulting security, a triumphant self-conceit, that, 
 to a woman gifted with the becoming pride of the 
 sex is altogether insufferable. I can tell a success 
 ful wooer as far off as I can see him. He does nothing 
 but admire his leg, as he trips along; and you would 
 fancy he saw his mistress in every looking-glass. 
 But Highfield was gay, good humoured, and sen 
 sible. He did not think it worth while to make 
 himself hated because he was in love; nor to in 
 crease the preference of his mistress for another, by 
 treating her with neglect or ill manners. True, 
 these things are considered the best evidence of sin-
 
 s/* ' v-^K^^,-. 
 
 THE AZURE 11OSK. 71 
 
 jslM&f' 
 
 cere passion ; but I would advise young women to 
 beware of a man whom love makes unamiable ; a> 
 I myself would beware of one, whom the intoxica 
 tion of wine made turbulent and quarrelsome. Both 
 love and wine draw forth the inmost nature of man. 
 
 "Well, Lucia," said Highfield, with a familiar 
 frankness, which his intimacy and near relationship 
 warranted " Well, Lucia, have you begun ray 
 watch chain yet ?" 
 
 " No," said she, sighing. 
 
 " Well, my coz, when do you mean to begin it r" 
 
 "I don't know," replied she languidly " one of 
 these days I believe." 
 
 " What ails you, Lucia are you not well ?" 
 
 "Not, not very I have got a sort of oppres 
 sion, a heaviness, a disposition to sigh ; something 
 here," pressing her hand on her bosom, from whence 
 peeped forth a little corner of Goshawk's effusion. 
 Highfield saw it, and the blood rushed into his 
 cheeks ; but he quelled the rising fiend of jealousy, 
 and asked, in a tone of deep interest, if she would 
 not take a walk with him on the Battery. She de- 
 'lined, in a tone of a quiet indifference. 
 
 " Shall we go, and call on Miss Appleby ?" Lu 
 cia was all life and animation. She put on her hat, 
 her shawl, and the thousand et-ceteras, that go to 
 the constitution of a fashionable lady ; and tripped 
 away like a little fairy. She expects to meet Gos 
 hawk there, thought Highfield ; but he neither pout 
 ed, or was rude to his cousin on the way. Nay, he
 
 
 exerted all his wit and pleasantry, and before thej 
 arrived, Lucia thought to herself she would begin 
 to net the watch chain that very evening. They 
 found all the azures, except Mr. Goshawk, assembled 
 at one of the drawing room windows, Mrs. Petti 
 coats and all, clamourously reading, and clamour- 
 ously applauding, some verses, written on a pane of 
 glass, with a diamond pencil. The reader shall not 
 miss them. They ran as follows : 
 
 Curs'd be the sun 'tis but a heavenly hell ! 
 
 Curs'd be the moon, false woman's planet pale ; 
 Curs'd the bright stars, that man's wild fortunes tell 
 
 And curs' d the elements ! Oh ! I could rail 
 At power, and potentates, and paltry pelf, 
 And, most of all, at that vile wretch, myself ! 
 
 What arc the bonds of life, but halters tied 7 
 
 What love, but luxury of bitter woe 7 
 What man, but misery personified 1 
 
 What woman, but an angel falFn below 1 
 What hell but heaven what heav'n but hell above .' 
 What love, but hate what hate, but curdled love ? 
 
 What's wedlock, but community of ill 1 
 
 What single blessedness, but double pain ? 
 What life's best sweets, but a vile doctor's pill I 
 
 What life itself, but dying, o'er and o'er again ? 
 And what this earth, the vilest, and the last, 
 On which the planets, all their offals cast ? 
 
 f 
 
 "Oh! doubly curs'd . 
 
 T**- ^ . 
 
 **&' " '' '**' 
 
 Here, it would seem, the bard stopped to takt j 
 breath ; overcome, either by his own exertions, or 
 finding there was nothing left for him to curse.
 
 THE AZURE HOSE. 73 
 
 "I never heard such delightful swearing,'' cried 
 Miss Appleby. 
 
 "What charming curses!" cried Miss Overend- 
 
 " What touching misanthropy !" cried Mr. Pad- 
 dleford. 
 
 " What powerful writing !" cried Puddingham. 
 
 " What glowing meteors !" cried Mrs. Coates, 
 determined not mistake meteors for metaphors, this 
 time. 
 
 Lucia said nothing ; but the tumults of her bosom 
 told her nobody could write such heart-rending lines 
 but Mr. Goshawk. 
 
 "Don't you think them equal to Lord Byron ?" 
 said Miss Appleby, to Highfield. 
 
 " Very likely, madam, Lord Byron wrote a vast 
 deal of heartless fustian." 
 
 "Heartless fustian!" screamed Miss Appleby, 
 and "heartless fustian!" echoed the rest of the 
 azures, with the exception of Lucia, who determined 
 not to commence the watch-chain that evening, if 
 ever. 
 
 " Fustian ! do you call such poetry fustian ; so 
 full of powerful writing, and affording such delicious 
 excitement? For my part, I can't live without 
 excitement of some kind or other," said Miss 
 Overend. 
 
 " What kind of excitement do you mean, ma 
 dam," said Highfield, mischievously, " the Morgan 
 excitement or the Stephenson excitement ?" 
 
 "Phsaw, Mr. Highfield, you are always ridi- 
 7
 
 74 THE AZURE HOSE. 
 
 culing sentiment. I mean the excitement of pow 
 erful writing, powerful feeling, powerful passion, 
 grief, joy, rage, despair, madness, misanthropy, 
 pain, pleasure, anticipation, retrospection, disap 
 pointment, hope, and and every thing that creates 
 excitement. By the by, they say the author of 
 Redwood is coming out with a new novel. I wonder 
 what it is about." 
 
 " I don't know," answered Highfield ; " but I 
 will venture to predict it will be all that is becoming 
 in a sensible, well bred, well educated, delicate 
 woman, neither misled by a false taste nor affected 
 sentiment." 
 
 " Pooh !" said the great Puddingham, " there is 
 no fire in her works." 
 
 " Nor brimstone either," said Highfield. 
 
 " Nor murder," said Miss Appleby. 
 
 "Nor powerful writing," said Miss Overend. 
 
 " Nothing to make the heart burst like a barrel 
 of gunpowder," said little Mrs. Petticoats. 
 
 " Perhaps so," replied Highfield, " but a book 
 may be worth something, without either fire, murder, 
 or gunpowder in it." 
 
 Here the discussion was cut short by the entrance 
 of Mr. Goshawk, who bowed languidly to the com 
 pany, walked languidly to a sofa, and, flinging 
 himself listlessly down, leaned pensively upon his 
 head, and sighed most piteously. Mr. Goshawk 
 was one of the most extraordinary men living. He 
 hated the world, yet could not live a day without
 
 THE' AZTTRE HOSE. 75 
 
 attracting its notice in some way or other ; he sighed 
 for solitude, yet took every opportunity of being in 
 a crowd ; and though confessedly the most miserable 
 of mortals, was never so happy as when every body 
 was admiring his secret sorrows. He had thrown 
 himself accidentally by the side of Lucia. 
 
 "Ah ! Mr. Goshawk," said she, " we've found 
 you out !" 
 
 Goshawk knew as well what she meant as she did 
 herself; but he looked at her with the most absent, 
 vacant, ignorant wonder it was possible for any man 
 to assume, as he answered, 
 
 " Found me out, Miss Lee?" 
 
 " Yes, yes ; the verses the beautiful verses, writ 
 ten with a diamond pencil, on the pane of glass : 
 you need not deny it ; nobody but yourself could 
 have written such powerful poetry." 
 
 "No, no; you can't deny it, Mr. Goshawk; 
 the foot of Hercules is in it," cried Miss Appleby ; 
 and the opinion was echoed by all present. Where 
 upon Mr. Goshawk acknowledged that, being that 
 morning depressed by a dead weight of insupport 
 able melancholy, he had walked forth into Miss 
 Appleby's drawing room, and, finding no one there, 
 had relieved his overfraught heart, in those unpre 
 meditated strains. The azures applied their cambric 
 handkerchiefs to their eyes, and pitied poor Mr. 
 Goshawk, for labouring under such a troublesome 
 excess of sentimental sadness. 
 
 The conversation then took a different turn ; ill-
 
 76 THE AZURE HOSE. 
 
 terrupted occasionally by the assurances of Mr. 
 Goshawk, that his verses were all written on the 
 spur, and under the impress, of the moment ; though 
 we, as authors knowing the secrets of all our breth 
 ren, are ready to make affidavit, that he never wrote 
 a line, without cudgelling his poor brains into 
 mummy, and spurring his Pegasus till his sides ran 
 blood. 
 
 " So there is a new Waverly coming out," 
 quoth Puddingham, who was deep in booksellers' 
 secrets, " I am told, one of the principal characters 
 is Charles the fifth." 
 
 " What he that was beheaded at Whitehall slip?" 
 asked Mrs. Coates. 
 
 " No, my dear madam," said Highfield, " he that 
 resigned his crown before he lost his head." 
 
 " How I delight to read novels in which there is 
 plenty of kings and queens ; 'tis so refined and 
 genteel, to be in such good society," said Miss 
 Overend. 
 
 " I never get tired of kings and queens, let them 
 be ever so stupid," said Miss Appleby ; " every 
 thing they say is so clever, and every thing they do, 
 so dignified." 
 
 "Well, for my part," said Highfield, "to me 
 nothing is so vulgar an expedient of authorship, as 
 that of introducing the reader into the society of 
 great names, and making them talk, not like them 
 selves, but like the author. In this manner, Rochester 
 becomes a dull debauchee ; Bolingbroke, a prosing
 
 THE AZURE 1IOSE. 77 
 
 blockhead ; and the greatest wits of the age, as 
 stupid as the writer. For my part, I am tired of 
 seeing this vulgar parade of regal and titled realities 
 introduced as shadows to our acquaintance ; and 
 have it in serious contemplation, unless I should 
 happen to fall into a cureless, causeless melancholy, 
 to write a novel, in which the principal actors shall 
 be gods, and the common people, kings and queens : 
 Queen Elizabeth shall lace Juno's corsets ; Alexan 
 der the great trim Jupiter's whiskers ; Mary queen 
 of Scots enact a beautiful bar-maid ; and Charle 
 magne, a crier of Carolina potatoes." 
 
 " Then you don't mean to recognise any distinc 
 tions in mere mortal society ?" asked Lucia, amused 
 in spite of herself with this banter. 
 
 " Why, I don't know. I have some thoughts of 
 a sort of geological, instead of genealogical arrange 
 ment, to consist of the primitive, the secondary, and 
 the alluvial. The fashionable primitives shall be 
 those who carry their pedigrees back into oblivion ; 
 whose origin is entirely unknown ; the secondary 
 will consist of such as have not had time to forget 
 their honoured ancestors ; and the alluvial, com 
 posed of the rich washings of the other two, which 
 have so lately made their appearance above water, 
 that there has been no time for them to become bar 
 ren and good for nothing." Highfield was now 
 called off by Miss Appleby. 
 
 Lucia appeared so much amused with this whim 
 sical arrangement, that Goshawk, who, though the 
 7*
 
 te*A .* 
 
 ^ TIIE AZUKE liOSE. 
 
 r *' *^ 
 
 ** *Ji to- 
 
 most abstracted of human beings, never for a 
 
 moment forgot himself or his vanity, thought it high 
 time to interfere. 
 
 "A clever young man that a very clever young 
 man," drawled he, " quite pleasant, but superficial ; 
 no energy, no pathos, no powerful passion, no 
 enthusiasm, without which there can be no such 
 thing as genius. Give me the man," cried he, with 
 a fat and greasy flow of sonorous words, " give me 
 the man to whom the croaking of a cricket is the 
 signal for lofty meditation, and the fall of a leaf, a 
 text for lone and melancholy abstraction ; one who 
 is alone in the midst of a crowd, and surrounded 
 when alone by myriads of sparkling imps of thought, 
 millions of beings without being, and thoughts 
 without outline or dimensions ; one to whom sha 
 dows are substances, and substances, shadows 
 to whom the present is always absent, the future 
 always past who lives, and moves, and has his 
 being, in an airy creation of his own, and circulates 
 in his own peculiar orb who rejoices without joy, 
 and is wretched without wretchedness ; one, in 
 short, who never laughs but in misery, or weeps 
 except for very excess of joy who lives in the 
 world, a miserable yet splendid example of the 
 sufferings endured by a superior being, when con 
 demned to associate with an inferior race, and to 
 derive his enjoyments from the same, mean, misera 
 ble, five senses." Here he sunk back on the sofa, 
 overpowered by his emotions.
 
 THE A/I IM: HOS 
 
 .. 
 
 Tl 
 
 L- 4 
 
 " What a being !" thought Lucia, and fell into 
 a painful doubt, whether such a being would ever 
 condescend to think of her a moment, present or 
 absent. " He is above this world !" said she, and 
 sighed a hundred times, to think of a man being so 
 much superior to his fellow-creatures. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 A great falling 1 off. 
 
 gg,.- % - - ^fc* 
 
 RETURNING home, our heroine threw herself on 
 *i sofa be pleased to take notice she did not sit 
 down, for that would have been unworthy a heroine 
 she threw herself on a sofa, and passed some time 
 in sympathizing with the sufferings of Mr. Goshawk. 
 She sighed for an opportunity of communing with 
 him on the fathomless abyss of his mysterious mise 
 ries, and wished Oh ! how devoutly wished her 
 self the privileged being, destined at last to be the 
 soother of his sorrows, the sharer of his thoughts, 
 the companion of his reveries, and the better half 
 of his abstract, inexplicable mystifications. " Would 
 that I knew, that I could comprehend, what it is 
 that makes him so wretched," thought Lucia, little 
 suspecting that the poor gentleman would have been 
 puzzled himself to tell her. 
 
 J**
 
 A 
 80 THE AZTJHE HOSE. 
 
 She was roused from this painfully pleasing reve 
 rie, by something which attracted her attention on 
 the sofa. She looked at it and rubbed her eyes 
 and rubbed her eyes and looked at it again. The 
 thing was too plain, she could not possibly be de 
 ceived. She started up and rang the bell furiously, 
 and the servant not coming sooner than it was pos 
 sible for him to come, she rang it again still more 
 emphatically. At length Juba made his appearance, 
 with his usual deliberation. An African gentleman 
 of colour seldom indulges himself by being in a 
 hurry. 
 
 "Who did that?" asked Lucia, pointing to the 
 sofa. 
 
 Juba advanced, looked at the spot, and began to 
 grin with that mortal display of ivory peculiar to his 
 race. 
 
 "Ah ! Massa Fairwedder, Massa Fairwedder, he 
 droll man, he." 
 
 " What ! had Mr. Fairweather the impudence" 
 
 " Ees, ees, he here dis morning," replied Juba, 
 grinning more than ever. 
 
 Lucia immediately summoned the whole house 
 hold, consisting of a troop of coloured ladies and 
 gentlemen, whose principal business was to make 
 work for each other. Ever since Lucia became 
 azure, they had been pretty much suffered to do as 
 they pleased, and it was their pleasure to do nothing 
 but copy their young mistress in dress and behaviour 
 as much as possible. They had a dancing master
 
 THE AZURE HOSE. 81 
 
 in the kitchen, to teach them waltzing:, and talked 
 seriously of a masquerade, or a fancy ball at least. 
 The black cook was something of an azure herself, 
 read all those useful little tracts which teach servants 
 the duties of masters and mistresses, wore prunelle 
 shoes, and cooked dinner in an undress of black silk ; 
 the coachman, almost as sentimentally miserable as 
 Mr. Goshawk ; and Lucia's maid, a great admirer 
 of Miss Wright. The kitchen, as Dolly cook said, 
 was quite a literary emporium, and there was always 
 a greasy Waverly lying on the mantel-piece, with 
 which Dolly occasionally regaled herself, while 
 boning a turkey. The consequence of all this was, 
 that Mr. Lee's house was at sixes and sevens. 
 There was neither master nor mistress ; the ceilings 
 of the parlour and drawing room were festooned 
 with cobwebs ; the curtains got the jaundice ; the 
 rats overrun the kitchen, and performed feats worthy 
 of rational beings, if you could believe Dolly; and 
 it was impossible to sit down on a chair or sofa, 
 without leaving the print of the body in the dust 
 which covered them. Poor Mr. Fairweather, who 
 knew the value of neatness, and prided himself on 
 his unspotted, unsullied black coat, had often carried 
 off a tribute from the parlour, and that morning 
 determined to give Lucia a broad hint. Accordingly 
 he took his forefinger in his hand, and wrote in the 
 dust that embellished the sofa, four large letters, 
 almost six inches long, that being put together con- 
 tittite an abominable word, than which there is none
 
 
 82 THE AZUHE HOSE. 
 
 more horrible and unseemly to the ear and eye of 
 womanhood. It was the sight of this that inter 
 rupted the deliciously perplexing reverie of our fair 
 heroine ; that caused her to ring the bell with such 
 emphasis ; to call up the men-servants and maid 
 servants ; to set the brooms, brushes, mops, and 
 pope's heads going ; and finally to declare war 
 against rats, spiders, dust, and cobwebs, and to turn 
 the whole house upside down. The servants wished 
 Mr. Fairweather in Guinea, as soon as they traced 
 the origin of this tremendous reform ; the cook 
 talked about the black skin and white skin being 
 equal in the eyes of the blind ; the coachman sighed 
 forth the unutterable agonies of a life of dependence ; 
 and the little jet black waiting maid talked elegantly 
 about the rights of women. Old Juba insisted on 
 his massa calling out Mr. Fairweather ; but on this 
 occasion, the old gentleman demurred. 
 
 " Mr. Fairweather is my best friend, you block 
 head." 
 
 " Guy, massa! dat any reason why you should'nt 
 blow he brain out ?" 
 
 From that time forward, Mr. Lee's house became 
 exemplary for its neatness, such is the magic influ 
 ence of a word to the wise ! There was such a re 
 form in the whole establishment, as hath never yet 
 been brought about in the state, by any change of 
 administration, since the establishment of the repub 
 lic. 
 
 And here, I feel it incumbent on me to offer to 
 my azure and fashionable readers, something like an
 
 THE AZTWE HOSE. 83 
 
 apology, for the falling off, in the high tone of my 
 narrative, they will not fail to observe in this chap 
 ter. I feel I ought to solicit their pardon, for hav 
 ing thus descended abruptly to such low and vul 
 gar matters as housekeeping; which ought to be 
 for ever beneath the attention of all true lovers of 
 literature and intellectual developement. It is true, 
 the goddess of wisdom once disputed with Arachne 
 the management of the needle; but this was in 
 times long past, and never to return, before the pre 
 ternatural developement of the mind, the invention 
 of flounces, or the supremacy of dancing-masters. 
 I am aware, also, of the happy influence of a neat, 
 well arranged, and well conducted household, in 
 rendering home agreeable, and luring us from a too 
 zealous pursuit of the pleasures of the world ; and I 
 am not ignorant how important it is for the mis 
 tress of a family to know when things are well done, 
 though it may not be necessary or becoming, to do 
 them herself. But I know, what is of far more con 
 sequence than all this, that if I prose any longer, 
 on such low subjects, the young gentlemen professors 
 of nothing will inquire into my pedigree ; and the 
 azure angels, who preside over the decisions of all 
 the gallant, fashionable critics, will pronounce me a 
 horrid bore a bore ! better were it to be convicted 
 of robbing a church, or swindling to the amount of 
 a few millions. I should then create a great public 
 excitement; and rally round me, not only all the an 
 ti-masons, but an army of sympathetic pettifoggers 
 besides.
 
 THE AZURE HOSE. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 An adventure, being the only one in all our history. 
 
 As the spring advanced, and the flowers, zephyrs, 
 and warbling birds, invited out into the country for 
 air and exercise, our heroine was accustomed to ride 
 on horseback, than which there is nothing more 
 healthful, graceful, and becoming in a woman, pro 
 vided always she will only ride like a gentlewoman ; 
 that is moderately. On the contrary, there is no 
 thing which gives me more heartfelt discomposure, 
 as a gallant bachelor, than to see a woman gallop 
 ing through the streets, like a trooper her feathers 
 flying, her ribands streaming to the wind, her riding 
 habit disordered, and herself bouncing up and down, 
 as if she had a cork saddle under her. It is not 
 only unseemly and unfeminine, but dangerous, in our 
 crowded streets; and nothing has preserved them 
 from the most fatal accidents, but the sagacity of 
 their horses, which doubtless, knowing the precious 
 burthens they carry, are particularly careful neither 
 to be frightened, or to make a false step. Were I to 
 assume the office of mentor to the young fellows of 
 the day, I would strenuously advise them to beware 
 of a woman that always rides on a full gallop. 
 Depend upon it, she will have her way in every
 
 THE AZTJRE HOSE. S6 
 
 thing ; and that though she may not actually lost 
 the bit, she will be apt to take it between her teeth : 
 which is almost as bad. 
 
 On these occasions Lucia was generally accom 
 panied by Miss Appleby, .Miss Overend, or sonru 
 one of her female friends, and escorted by High- 
 field and Goshawk, with the latter o whom our he 
 roine generally fell into a tete-a-tete in the course of 
 the ride. It was the third of May I recollect ii 
 perfectly when the little party of equestrians set 
 forth on a morning ride, all gay and hopeful ex 
 cept Mr. Goshawk, to whom the smiles of nature 
 were a disquiet, and the music of spring a discord. 
 He was more than commonly miserable that day. 
 having observed that Lucia began to sympathize 
 deeply in his sorrows. 
 
 They navigated their course safely through the 
 various perils of Broadway for some distance. Thej 
 met a company of militia with more drums than 
 privates, and commanded by three brigadier gene 
 rals; they encountered the great ox Columbus 
 dressed in ribbons 1 ; they stood the brunt of kites, 
 carts, bakers' wagons, Broadway accommodations, 
 charcoal merchants, orange-men and ash-men, and 
 beggar-women. In short, they escaped unhurt amid 
 the war of sights, the eternal clatter and confusion of 
 sounds, the unexampled concatenation of things, ani 
 mate and inanimate, natural and unnatural. The 
 horses, indeed, sometimes pricked up their ears, and 
 wondered, but displayed no decided symptoms of 
 8
 
 * ' 
 86 THE AZURE HOSE. 
 
 affright, until, as ill luck would have it, just as they 
 came to the corner of Chamber street, a little woman 
 about four feet high issued suddenly forth from a 
 shop, with a bonnet, of such alarming dimensions, 
 and singular incongruity of shape and decoration, 
 that Lucia's horse, who had never been at a fancy 
 ball, could stand it no longer. He wheeled sudden 
 ly round, against Mr. Goshawk's steed, and reared. 
 Mr. Goshawk was partly in a brown study, and part 
 ly so miserable that he did not, as he afterwards af 
 firmed, exactly recollect where he was, or what was 
 the matter. At length, he cried out, " Whoa !" 
 with such a lofty and poetical fervour that he fright 
 ened the horse still more. He now reared worse than 
 ever, and Lucia, must have lost her seat in a few 
 moments, when Highfield who was a little in ad 
 vance with the other ladies, being roused by Gos 
 hawk's exclamation, looked round, and was at the 
 horse's head, on foot, in an instant. " Keep your 
 seat if you can/' said he as he seized the bridle. 
 A desperate contest now commenced between him 
 and the horse, who continued rearing and plunging, 
 now galling Highfield' s body and limbs with his 
 sharp hoofs, and wrenching him violently about from 
 side to side. Lucia still kept her seat though al 
 most insensible to where she was, or what was going 
 forward. It was a struggle between an enraged un 
 ruly beast, and a cool determined man. Highfield 
 still clung to the bridle, close to the horse's head, 
 until watching his opportunity, he seized the animal
 
 THE AZURE HOSE. 
 
 by the nostrils, with so firm a gripe, as to arrest his 
 roarings for a moment, during which he seemed 
 tremblingly to own a master. At the same instant 
 a gentleman assisted Lucia to dismount, which she 
 had scarcely done, when the animal, as if recovered 
 from his astonishment made one plunge, struck his 
 hoofs into Highfield's breast, threw him on his back 
 insensible, and dashed away full speed. At the 
 same moment Mr. Goshawk, whohad been exceed 
 ingly active in protesting against the inhumanity of 
 the crowd, which stood looking on without being 
 able to render any assistance, was likewise so over 
 come by his exertions that he lost his memory, for a 
 little while, after which he poured forth so eloquent 
 a felicitation on Lucia's escape from a danger, which, 
 however slight, had harrowed up his very soul, thai 
 she remembered it long after, when she ought to 
 have been remembering something else. 
 
 Highfield was brought to himself, after some con 
 siderable delay, and, with the young lady, conveyed 
 home, in a hackney coach. Goshawk did not ac 
 company them ; his senses were so shattered, and his 
 feelings had so completely overpowered him, that he 
 was incapable of any thing, but the indulgence of 
 high wrought sentiment,
 
 THE AZUBE HOST- 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 The two Cupids. 
 
 THE warm hearted Mr. Lee, when he came to 
 learn the particulars of the transaction recorded in 
 our last chapter, hugged Highfield in his arms, call 
 ed him his son ; and came very near letting out the 
 secret of his long cherished intentions to his daugh 
 ter. He then fell upon the corporation, that unfor 
 tunate pack-horse, on whose back is saddled all the 
 abominations which petulance conjures into exist 
 ence, or the itch for scribbling, lays before the 
 public. 
 
 "Confound the stupid blockheads!" exclaimed 
 he. "They make laws against flying kites, explod 
 ing crackers, sticking up elephants over people'^ 
 heads for signs, and cumbering the streets with empty 
 boxes and barrels ; and yet, they allow the women 
 to wear bonnets that frighten horses out of their dis 
 cretion ! For my part, I don't see the distinction. 
 not I." 
 
 " But my good friend," said Mr. Fairweather. 
 who had called in to make his friendly inquiries 
 " I differ with you I think there is a marked dis 
 tinction between a fine lady, and an empty barrel."
 
 THE AZURE HOSE. 89 
 
 -Oh well, if we differ, there is an end of the ar 
 gument," quoth the other. 
 
 "An end of the argument! why it is generally 
 the beginning." 
 
 "Very well very well I have no time to argue 
 the question now." 
 
 Mr. Fairweather took up his hat, and went away 
 by himself, pondering in his mind, what could have 
 come over his old friend. It was the first time, since 
 he knew him, that he had declined an argument. 
 
 Lucia and Highfield met the next morning ; the 
 former languid with her fright, the latter pale, and 
 stiff with his bruises. Lucia was netting a purse. 
 She thanked him, in simple, unaffected, heartfelt 
 terms ; for it is only affectation that deals in pom 
 pous phrases. The tears came into her eyes, as she 
 noticed his wounded hands, and perceived, by the 
 slight variations that passed over his countenance, 
 that every motion was acccompanied with acute 
 pain. 
 
 "I shall never forget," said she, " that you saved 
 my life." 
 
 " Nor I," said Highfield, and these two simple 
 words were all he uttered on the subject. 
 
 Lucia was mortified that he should have missed so 
 good an opportunity of being eloquent. She had 
 been brought up with people who considered words ot 
 more consequence than actions ; and a fine speech, 
 in celebration of an exploit of heroism far superior 
 to the act itself. Lucia threw the purse carelessly
 
 * i ' ,-, 
 
 00 THE AZTTBE HOSE. 
 
 into her work basket; and just then, Mr. Goshawk 
 entered, to inquire how she did, after the accident. 
 Then it was, that our heroine, was lifted off her feet. 
 by a flow of inspired eloquence, which cast into the 
 hade, the manly simplicity of poor Highfield' s cou 
 rage and self-possession. He spoke of his horror 
 at her danger the overpowering feelings that abso 
 lutely bewildered his mind, and prevented his think 
 ing of any thing but himself, and his intense suffer 
 ings. He detailed his waking thoughts on coming 
 home ; and his terrible dreams, in which he saw her 
 struggle with indiscribable dangers, and performed 
 acts in her behalf, that no waking man ever dreamed 
 of. In short, he made himself out the hero of the 
 affair, and before he had finished, actually persuaded 
 Lucia, that honest Highfield was but a secondary 
 person in the business. 
 
 " Behold," said he, "howl employed the melan 
 choly, soul subduing hours of the last night ; for 
 you may suppose, I did not close my eyes." 
 
 " Oh, then I suppose you dreamed with your eyes- 
 open," said Highfield, smiling. 
 
 " A man need not shut his eyes to dream, Mr. 
 Highfield," quoth Goshawk, pompously. At the 
 same time presenting Lucia with a perfumed sheet 
 of paper. She opened it, and read, with sparkling 
 oves 
 
 
 '' The wings of my heart are far o'er the blue sea" 
 
 : If the wings of his heart are far o'er the blue se?. 
 i; Permit me to ask where its legs ought to be."
 
 THE AZTTOE HO3E. . 91 
 
 hummed Highfield, as he sauntered out of the 
 room. 
 
 " He has no more sentiment, nor feeling, enthusi 
 asm, or genius, than than" Lucia could not hit 
 upon a comparison expressive of her indignation. 
 
 "Alas! the more happy he!" sighed Fitzgiles 
 Goshawk. " He knows not what it is to eat the bit 
 ter aloes of disappointed hopes, to dream of impos 
 sible attainments, to stand on tiptoe, catching at in 
 comprehensible chimeras; to place his heart on 
 what it dares not contemplate, except at an unap 
 proachable distance that mocks even the imagina 
 tion to despair ; to die of disappointments, in what, 
 from first to last, he knew was out of his reach ; to 
 pass from the sight of men, the light of the sun, and 
 the perplexities of the world, and leave nothing be 
 hind him but an empty name. Oh! Lucia, pity 
 me," cried he, taking her hand. 
 
 " I do, indeed I do," cried Lucia, overpowered 
 by this picture of mysterious griefs. " I pity, and 
 would relieve you if I knew how. Only tell me 
 what is the matter ? 
 
 " I love, and I despair !" 
 
 "Whom?" said Lucia, with a palpitating heart. 
 
 " One throned in yon galaxy of stars, brighter 
 than Venus, and purer than the milky way one, of 
 whom I wake only to dream, and dream only to 
 awake in astonishment at my presumptuous visions. 
 One so far above the sphere of my aspiring hopes, 
 that like the glorious sun, I only live in the consum-
 
 
 92 THE AZURE HOSE. 
 
 ing rays of her beauty, without daring to look in 
 the full face of her brightness, lest I should be struck 
 blind." 
 
 " Why this must be a queen at least," said Lucia, 
 blushing with a whispering consciousness. 
 
 " The queen of love and beauty," replied Gos 
 hawk, delighted at his happy rejoinder. They 
 remained silent a few moments, it being impossible 
 to descend from the heights of sentimental twaddle 
 to the level of ordinary matters, without stopping to 
 take breath by the way. 
 
 " Tell me, Miss Lee, tell me what is love," said 
 Goshawk at length, with a languishing air. 
 
 " I don't know," replied Lucia, blushing. 
 
 " Shall I answer for you ?" said Highfield, who 
 entered at that moment. Lucia started a little, and 
 Goshawk looked rather foolish. 
 
 " Love is a fantastic assemblage of the follies of 
 childhood and the passions of age. A little, scoun 
 drel hypocrite, who, while rolling his hoop or chasing 
 u butterfly, disguises under the innocent sports of a 
 boy, the most selfish and dishonourable intentions. 
 He is the deity of professions, disguises, affectation, 
 and selfishness ; is never satisfied unless acting in 
 opposition to reason, propriety, and duty ; and is 
 pictured a child, because he studies only his own 
 gratification, and never keeps his promises." 
 
 Goshawk seemed not to admire this sketch, but 
 for some reason or other, he was not so ready with 
 a flight as usual. Lucia took up the defence of the 
 little godhead.
 
 THE AZURE HOSE. 93 
 
 " Oh, what a monster you have made of him!" 
 said she. 
 
 " But there is another and a nobler love," re 
 sumed Highfield, with more enthusiasm than he had 
 ever before displayed in the presence of his cousin, 
 "there is another and a nobler love, the divinity of 
 rational and virtuous man. A grown up, finished 
 being", that knows no other wish than the happiness 
 of its object ; that neither lies, nor feigns, nor flat 
 ters, nor deceives ; that is neither degraded by 
 disappointment, nor presumptuous with success; 
 that, while it respects itself, still pays a willing ho 
 mage, and offers at the feet of its mistress what it 
 never sacrificed to fear or favour, to the claims of 
 man, the temptations of interest, or the tyranny of 
 the passions ; its own free will and its power of 
 independent action." 
 
 The tones of Highfield's voice were such as I 
 have sometimes, but rarely heard, in my pilgrimage 
 through this world of jarring discords ; they were 
 those that give to nonsense the charm of music, and 
 to precept the magic of persuasion. He spoke with 
 a manly simplicity, a chastened feeling, a firm and 
 settled earnestness, which hypocrisy always over 
 leaps, and affectation only caricatures. Even child 
 hood comprehends it, and the votaries of bad taste 
 at once recognise it for truth. The exertion of 
 speaking, or it may be the glow of his smothered 
 feelings, had banished for a moment his ashy pale 
 ness, and brought a fire into his cheek that added to
 
 94 THE AZUBE HOSE. 
 
 his natural attractions. He stood with one arm in 
 a sling, partly leaning against the mantel-piece, and 
 there was in his whole appearance an evident strug 
 gle between the weakness of his body and the 
 strength of his feelings. 
 
 Neither Mr. Goshawk nor Lucia made any reply. 
 The former was cowed by the majesty of honest, 
 unaffected manhood, giving utterance to its feelings 
 with the simple energy of deep conviction ; the latter 
 felt as she had never felt while Mr. Goshawk was 
 pouring out his sentimental flummery. She knew 
 she was listening to one in earnest, who was either 
 describing what he felt at the moment or was capable 
 of feeling. " He certainly must be in love with 
 somebody. Some little red-cheeked, scrub-nosed, 
 country damsel, I dare say ;" and she turned up her 
 pretty Grecian nose at the poor girl. The perplex 
 ity of guessing who this somebody was, occupied her 
 some time, insomuch that she entirely forgot Mr. 
 Goshawk's piece of poetry and his beautiful lan 
 guage, 
 
 " I beg your pardon," said Highfield, " for 
 coming here to interrupt you and make speeches. 
 Your father requested me to say he wishes to speak 
 with you, cousin." 
 
 Goshawk took his leave ; Lucia sought her 
 lather, and Highfield his bed ; for he was really 
 much indisposed with his bruises.
 
 1'HE AZURE HOSE. 9f 
 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 V ' ' A 
 
 Sounding 1 without bottom. 
 
 MR. LEE was a man of great courage and little 
 patience. He considered the heart of a woman like 
 one of his eggs, that could be boiled in a minute 
 and a half ; and took it for granted, Lucia must be 
 deeply in love with Highfield since the adventure oi 
 the fashionable bonnet. Accordingly he determined 
 to sound her forthwith, that no time might be lost. 
 He might as well have sounded the bottomless 
 abysses of lake Superior ; for the heart of a city 
 belle in love is as unfathomable, if not as pure, as 
 they. 
 
 " Well, Lucia," said he, as she entered his library, 
 ' how do you feel after your fright ?" 
 
 " Oh, quite well, sir." 
 
 " Hem I wish I could say as much for High- 
 tield. The doctor says he has some fever, and talks 
 of bleeding the blockhead why didn't he do it 
 before?" 
 
 "Bleeding!" cried Lucia, and her heart beat a 
 little, " I hope it will not be necessary." 
 
 " Hem yes. Ah ! girl, you owe much to that 
 excellent young man hey ?"
 
 96 THE AZUKB HOSE. 
 
 "I am sensible of it, sir, and feel it at the bottoui 
 of my heart." 
 
 "Do you? do you? my dearest girl, at the 
 bottom of your heart ?" 
 
 "Indeed I do, sir; I shall never cease to be 
 grateful, as long as I live." 
 
 " Grateful ! pish pooh gratitude!" 
 
 " My father has often told me, gratitude was the 
 rarest of our feelings, and the most short-lived ; but 
 I shall carry mine to my grave." 
 
 " Ay yes yes ; gratitude is a very good thing 
 in its way ; but but there are so many ways of 
 showing it. Now how will you show yours hey ?" 
 
 "Why, I haven't studied my part yet," said she, 
 smiling ; "I must trust to the honest dictates of my 
 heart, to time, and circumstance, to show me the 
 way." 
 
 " Pshaw ! time and circumstance ! I believe the 
 d 1 is in you this morning, Lucia." 
 
 "I believe the deuce is in you this morning, 
 father," said Lucia, smiling ; "for I can't under 
 stand you." 
 
 " Very well, very well ; but I want to know how 
 you will go about showing your gratitude hey ?" 
 
 "Why, father," said Lucia, "if he is sad. I will 
 play him merry tunes ; if he is cheerful, I will laugh 
 with him ; if he is cross, I will bear with him. 1 
 will sympathize in his misfortunes, rejoice in his 
 happiness, nurse him if he should be sick ; if you 
 turn him out of dofcrs, as you once threatened, I will
 
 . 
 
 4 * 
 
 THE AZURE HOSE. ^97 
 
 * <ts 
 
 certainly let him in again ; and if he should ever . 
 chance to want (what I trust in God he never will) 
 your favour and protection, I will try and be to him 
 your humble representative." If Lucia meant to 
 say more, she was stopped by an unaccountable 
 huskiness in her throat, that took away her breath. 
 
 "Ah ! that will do that will do !" cried the old 
 gentleman, highly delighted, " and so you will love 
 him hey, girl ? none of your wishy-washy grati 
 tude love him with all your heart hey ?" 
 
 " With all my heart, and as an only and beloved 
 brother." 
 
 " Brother ! did you say ? a fiddlestick ; I I 
 don't want you to love him as a brother, I tell you." 
 
 "As a cousin then, sir." 
 
 " No ; nor as a cousin, nor a second cousin, 
 nor an uncle, nor grandfather, nor grandmother 
 either," cried Mr. Lee, in wrath, and gradually 
 raising his voice till he came to the climax of a roar. 
 
 "Ah ! is it so ?" thought our heroine, as at length 
 she began to comprehend the drift of the impatient 
 old gentleman ; and she drew the impenetrable 
 cldak of; hypocrisy closely around her, at the same 
 time conjuring up to her aid the guardian pride of 
 female delicacy, which shrinks from the first avowal 
 of love, and more than shrinks from owning it with 
 out the surety of answering love. 
 
 " May I go, sir ?" said she, after a pause, " I 
 promised to walk out this morning, with my aunt 
 and Mr. Goshawk." 
 
 9
 
 98 TUB AZURE HOSE. 
 
 " Confound Mr. Goshawk ! may ten thousand of 
 his bad verses fly away with him to chaos and old 
 night, where they came from !" 
 
 " Well, father,, then I will make an apology and 
 stay at home." .^. 
 
 " No ; go where you please, and do what you 
 please ; I shall never be able to make any thing of 
 you.;' 
 
 " Nothing, dear sir, but what I am your dutiful 
 and affectionate daughter;" and she bowed, and left 
 Mr. Lee to congratulate himself on the progress he 
 had made. , 
 
 The reader will doubtless have observed, that 
 during the whole of the foregoing dialogue, Lucia 
 spoke in simple, natural language, without a single 
 touch of azure. The reason is at hand. She felt 
 what she was saying; and true feeling never de 
 claims. What it has to say, it says with a simple, 
 brief directness ; as a man who is earnest in the race 
 never stops to gather flowers by the way. 
 
 Our heroine retired to her chamber, to think. A 
 new futurity was opened before her ; for until this 
 interview with her father, she never dreamed of 'his 
 wishes or intentions in favour of her cousin. The 
 truth is, her imagination was occupied with Gos 
 hawk. But now it was necessary to determine on 
 some line of conduct, in her future intercourse with 
 Highfield. A very convenient, proper, family match ! 
 thought she ; I am rich, and he poor. I have no
 
 I HP, AZURE HUM.. 
 
 *' *'" .ft -W 
 
 doubt he is very much in love with me*; for I never 
 heard of a young gentleman that was deficient in 
 duty and affection on such occasions ! And then 
 her heart smote her with a pang, for such a thought. 
 No, no ; I will say that for my cousin, I do believe 
 he would not marry, if he did not love me, to gain 
 my fortune or please my father. But then every 
 body will say be only married me for my money ; 
 and the mortification of such a suspicion would be 
 intolerable. I dare say this plan has been in agita 
 tion ever since I was. born; and what a business 
 kind of business ! he is to open his mouth, and I 
 am to fall plump into it, like ** great overripe apple, 
 without even being shaken a little. No, no, my 
 dainty cousin, that wont do. And besides, what 
 will Miss Appleby and all the rest say, if I throw 
 oiyself away on a man of no literary reputation ; 
 who never figured in albums, or wrote verses on 
 Passaic falls ; who does nothing common like an 
 uncommon man ; and who, I confess, though he acts 
 sometimes like a hero, talks just like every body. 
 Ah ! said she, sighing, I wish my money bags were 
 in the Red sea, and then I could teM whether I was 
 beloved for myself or them. This was a very foolish 
 wish of our heroine ; for notwithstanding her beauty, 
 her charming temper, and her natural good sense, 
 if her money bags had been in the Red sea, ten to 
 one her admirers would have gone there to fish for 
 them, instead of adoring her beauty and good qua
 
 100 THE AZURE HOSE. 
 
 lities. After a vast many pros and cons, Lucia 
 determined, in the true spirit of a woman with more 
 than one admirer, to play them off against each 
 other ; to put to the test the ardour and stability of 
 their passion, by trying what the patience of mortal 
 man is capable of enduring. Mr. Goshawk was still 
 paramount in her imagination ; though since the 
 adventure of the ride, her feelings were somewhat 
 enlisted on the side of Highfield. She was satisfied 
 in her own mind, that the former was deeply ena- 
 mpured of her, else, why should he be so eloquent 
 on all occasions, on the subject of hopeless affec 
 tion ? With regard to the other, she was somewhat, 
 or rather indeed altogether, uncertain ; for Highfield 
 had too much pride, as well'as delicacy, to thrust his 
 feelings in the face of the world on all occasions. 
 I will try him, thought she. If he is only seeking 
 me for my fortune, there will be no harm in making 
 him a little miserable ; and if he really loves me for 
 myself alone, I can always make him amends for his 
 .sufferings. She had an appointment with Mr. Gos 
 hawk for a walk, and was expecting him ever) 7 
 moment, when the servant came in with an apology, 
 that he was so indisposed as not to be able' to wait 
 on her. 
 
 " Poor man," thought Lucia, " his mind is prey 
 ing on his delicate frame ! the light is too intense 
 for the lamp that contains it. What a misfortune it 
 is to be born with too much sensibility !
 
 THE AZt'KE HOSE. 101 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 
 
 In which the history is perfectly becalmed. 
 
 OUR heroine remained in a state of mind requiring 
 motion. She felt a sort of fidgeting impatience of 
 repose which almost always accompanies the little 
 perplexities and uncertainties of life. She took out 
 the silk purse to net ; but the thought struck her that 
 Highfield might be too much elated if he sa,w her 
 thus employed. She took up a book, and though 
 it was one of the very latest fashionable works, she 
 actually yawned over the first chapter. She then 
 as a last resort took iip a new garment, that had 
 just been sent home by the mantua maker; which 
 fortunately gave a new turn to her ideas. The 
 sleeves were exactly the thing. She retired to her 
 mysterious boudoir, and arrayed herself like King 
 Solomon in all his glory. She put on a pink hat 
 with a black velvet lining, and a feather that swept 
 the ground; she put on her white satin cloak that 
 hid her pretty figure as effectually as a sack ; and she 
 adorned her pretty ancles with spatterdashes. She 
 arrayed herself with the Foulard silk ; the Foulard 
 damasce ; the gros des Indes ; the embroidered col 
 lar, cape, Fichu, Alavielle and Fiorelle ; the Blonde 
 
 9* 
 .
 
 102 THE AZURE HOSE. 
 
 gauze, and the Deooupe gauze, the fancy ribands, 
 trimmings, &c. &tc. &c. ; in short she made herself 
 one of the most beautiful fancy articles ever import 
 ed, before she had done. She then looked into a 
 full lengh mirror and saw that all was good ; for 
 her hat was mighty to behold ; her shoulders broad 
 er than those of Sampson with the gates of Gaza on 
 his back ; and not the African Venus herself but 
 hush my muse nor meddle too deeply with myste 
 ries unknown to the sacred nine ! 
 
 Highfield met her just as she was going forth into 
 the Aceldama, the-field of blood, the Flanders of the 
 new world BROADWAY where more whiskered 
 dandies have been slain outright by stout broad 
 shouldered ladies, and the empire of more hearts 
 contested than in all the universe besides. He stood 
 in speechless admiration, for his cousin was really 
 so beautiful, that it was out of the power of milli 
 ner or mantua maker to make her look ugly. 
 
 " Will you take me with you ?" said he. 
 
 Lucia felt like the ox-eyed Juno, in her glorious 
 paraphernalia. 
 
 The most unpropitious moment for approaching 
 a belle is doubtless when she is full dressed for 
 Broadway. . She treads on air ; she sees herself re 
 flected in the mirror of her imagination at full 
 length ; the rustling of silks* whispers an alarum to 
 her vanity ; and the waving of feathers is the signal 
 for conquering the world.
 
 AZURE IIOSE. 103 
 
 "Will you take me with you ?" repeated High- 
 field. 
 
 How handsome and interesting he is, thought our 
 heroine as she looked at herself in the glass. If he 
 only had whiskers he would be irresistible. 
 
 " I am afraid," said she, " the weather is too keen 
 for you this morning ; you look pale, and don't 
 seem well;" and nature forced her voice into a tune 
 ful sympathy. ,'.',; 
 
 " Oh, I never was better in my life." 
 
 " Well, it is not my business," said she, again as 
 suming the woman " If you choose to risk it, 'tis 
 nothing' to me." And the father of hypocrisy him 
 self could not have put on a more freezing indiffer 
 ence. " I am going to cajl on Miss Appleby ; my 
 aunt promised to meet me there." 
 
 "I'd rather go any where else with you." 
 
 "Oh, yes, I know vou don't like literary people." 
 
 "I don't like pretenders to literature." 
 
 "Then let me go by myself," said she abruptly. 
 
 "No I'll go, and take the mighty Goshawk by 
 the beard, e'en though he were a metaphor, as saith 
 our azure aunt." 
 
 This sally made Lucia smile, and restored her 
 good humour, which indeed was never long away. 
 Her anger was never chronic, and so much the bet 
 ter. An unforgiving woman is worse than a man 
 that forgives every body. Lucia put her arm with- 
 iu Highfield's, and they went away as gay as bob- 
 lincons in a clover meadow. Lucia forgot for a
 
 *- 
 
 ,n.i } 
 
 104 THE AZURE HOSE. 
 
 moment her plan of making him jealous ; but there 
 was a little imp of mischief at her elbow that soon 
 put her in mind of it again. 
 
 The gentle reader need not expect to find our lit 
 tle history a Newgate chronicle of bloody, remorse 
 less crimes; or a chaotic congeries as an azure 
 would call it of accidents and incidents, piled one 
 upon the other with a profusion and confusion, mock 
 ing both art and nature to arrange into order, pro 
 priety, or probability. He will we hope take our 
 word, when we assure him upon our honour, that no 
 thing in the whole art and mystery of works of ima 
 gination, is more vulgarly easy than to weave adven 
 tures without probability ; to paint characters with 
 out nature or consistency ; to elevate into astonish 
 ment by incidents entirely unexpected because there 
 is nothing to render them credible ; to delineate the 
 excesses of unbridled and ferocious depravity; the 
 crimes of unqualified wickedness ; and the daring 
 pranks of lawless savages, as little restrained by the 
 behests of the law, as is the author by the canons of 
 taste and criticism. Such indeed is the utter reck 
 lessness with which the truly fashionable and intel 
 lectual writers and readers in this age of develope- 
 ment, plunge into seas of blood, and revel in sights 
 and scenes that even the case hardened sympathies of 
 vulgar ignorance, would shrink from contemplating 
 in real life ; such, in short, the rage for mere excite 
 ment in the prevailing taste for literature, that- it
 
 THE AZURE HOSE. 105 
 
 would give us little surprise to see a writer adminis 
 tering to this ravenous appetite, by introducing a 
 sentimental Caliban, or a Sycorax dying for the love 
 of a well dressed dandy. Adventures and incidents, 
 unconnected and without motive, have taken place 
 of delineations of the windings of the human heart, 
 the intricacies and vagaries of passion, and the 
 nice and wary caution, with which the authors of a 
 better period, traced every effect to its cause, every 
 cause to its effects. They introduced no incidentto 
 excite a mere vulgar surprise, nor any adventure," 
 but what was a spoke in the wheel of the story, ac 
 celerating its progress, and rendering the denouement 
 more probable. They delighted not in the naked, 
 unadorned, unmitigated personification of crimes. 
 They found human nature a mixture of good and 
 evil ; human actions springing from the like mixture 
 of motives, aud so they endeavoured to delineate 
 them. Their design was to paint men, not mon 
 sters ; and such we confess at humble distance is 
 ours. The enlightened reader must therefore, not 
 expect to find in our story, either the excitement of 
 blood, murder, adultery, and crime, nor to detect us 
 wallowing in the very mire of sentimental sensuality. 
 Such feasts as these are not we confess to our taste, 
 and what we do not relish ourselves we disdain to 
 palm upon others, even though it mip;ht peradveture 
 be for our temporary advantage. We close these 
 remarks, by cautioning the reader against believing
 
 106 THE AZVRE HOSE. 
 
 for a single instant that they have the most remote 
 reference to the excellent Sir Walter, whose, genius 
 is almost sufficient to atone for the crying offences 
 of a thousand bad imitators. 
 
 CHAPTER XIIL 
 
 More Azure. 
 
 HlGHFlELD and our heroine dropped in upon the 
 whole azure coterie, at Miss Appleby's, with the ex 
 ception of Mr. Fitzgiles Goshawk, whose absence 
 afforded an excellent subject for declamation ; espe 
 cially when Lucia informed the company he was in 
 disposed. 
 
 " Poor fellow, his sensibilities will be the death of 
 him at last," cried Miss Appleby. 
 
 " Unfortunate youtli," said Miss Overend, " his 
 wretchedness is mysteriously affecting ; by the by, 
 can any body tell what makes him so unhappy?" 
 
 " I daresay he is suffering the pangs of disappoint 
 ment," said Puddingham. 
 
 " Disappointment in what ?" said she briskly. 
 
 " Oh, why you know genius is always hoping im 
 possible things, and chasing the rainbows of imagi 
 nation ever anticipating unreal joys, and reaping
 
 'HIE AZURE HOSE. 107 
 
 real sorrows. I knew a man of genius, once, a 
 great poet, who pined himself into a decline, be 
 cause he could not get his whiskers to grow." 
 
 "La!" said Miss Overend, "I dare say that is 
 the cause of Mr. Goshawk's interesting melancholy, 
 you know he has no whiskers." 
 
 " I dare -say," quoth Paddlefbrd, a sighing, whin 
 ing, cork-hearted pretender to sentimental roueism ; 
 "I dare say the poor fellow is in love with a married 
 woman." 
 
 "Has he been to Italy?" said Miss Overend, 
 "if he has, I could almost swear he had fallen in 
 love with a beautiful nun he saw through the grates 
 of a convent!" 
 
 "I shouldn't be surprised," said Mrs. Coates, "If 
 he had committed murder." 
 
 "Murder !" screamed the other ladies. 
 
 "I mean an innocent, disinterested, sentimental 
 murder, committed in a moment of irrigation, with 
 out any intention what do you think, nephew ?" 
 
 "I rather think it must be the whiskers, as my 
 friend Puddingham suggested. I feel myself in the 
 same predicament, and am sentimentally dead, for 
 want of a muzzle a la mode de bison." 
 
 Lucia privately resolved that Master Highfield 
 should pay for making sport of the hallowed and 
 mysterious sorrows of Mr. Goshawk. She knew 
 or thought she knew their origin ; and to have the 
 perplexities of pining, speechless, inexpressible pas 
 sion associated with a bison's whiskers ! It was too
 
 108 TUB AZURE HOSE. 
 
 bad ; and her cousin should pay for it dearly, it' he 
 possessed the least spark of feeling. Highfield took 
 his leave soon after, excusing himself on the score ot 
 some business. But the truth was, he felt himself 
 somewhat indisposed. 
 
 "Well, Lucia," said Miss Appleby, " I suppose 
 you bad a delightfully affecting interview with your 
 cousin, after the affair. What did he say ?" 
 
 " Nothing," said Lucia. 
 
 "Nothing; what a stupid man! Why Mr. 
 Goshawk talked of his excruciating feelings on the 
 occasion a whole hour, till he brought tears into my 
 eyes. Oh, such a beautiful flow of language, such 
 powerful delineations of passion ! I wish you had 
 heard him." 
 
 " Mr. Highfield is a very common-place man,' 7 
 said Puddingham, pompously. " You might stand 
 under a gateway a whole day in a shower, without 
 hearing him say any thing remarkable." 
 
 " What is a chance act of gallantry and presence 
 of mind, compared with the genius that immortalize* 
 it in words that burn and thoughts that freeze ? For 
 my part, give me the man that talks eloquently/' 
 said Mr. Paddleford. 
 
 " Yes," said Miss Overend ; " mere physical 
 courage and animal strength may do great things ; 
 but to say great things, requires the aid of a lofty? 
 inaccessible genius, which nine times in ten is so 
 immersed in its own sublime chrysalis, that it can't 
 get out in time to do any thing in a case of emer 
 gency." 

 
 THE AZURE HOSE. 
 
 " To be sure," said Mrs. Coates ; " a great 
 action is often frustificated by a splendid chaotic 
 congeries of intellectual vapours, that produce n 
 deflection of the mind from the object before it." 
 
 Lucia, though a little affronted with Highfield, 
 was too generous to suffer him to be undervalued in 
 this manner, especially in his absence. 
 
 "And so, my good friends," said she, "you 
 would persuade me that I am more indebted to Mr. 
 Goshawk, for his elegant description of my danger, 
 than to my cousin, who rescued me from if. I 
 might have been in my grave by this time, but for 
 my cousin." 
 
 " But then what a beautiful elegy Mr. Goshawk 
 would have written, my dear. You would have 
 been immortalized. Only think of that !" said Miss 
 \ppleby. 
 
 "Yes," replied Mrs. Coates ; " what is the trum 
 pery pain of anneeheelation to the eternal immor 
 tality of living in immortal verse of floating down 
 upon the stream of oblivion, into the regions of 
 never dying brightness !" Mrs. Coates waxed 
 more azure every day. 
 
 "My dear aunt," cried Lucia, interrupting the 
 good lady, who was losing herself in a Dismal 
 Swamp of meteors, as she called them; "my dear 
 aunt, I am aware of the superiority of words over 
 deeds, in an age of developement like the present, 
 and that he who performs a great action is but an 
 instrument in the hands of the man of genius who 
 10
 
 110 THE AZUKB HOSE. 
 
 celebrates it in never dying verse. I know too thaf 
 it is mere selfishness on our part, to feel grateful for 
 an action done in our own behalf, instinctively per 
 haps, and without one single good feeling on the 
 part of him who performs it ; but still there is some 
 thing in the gift of life that seems to deserve at 
 least our gratitude." This was the most azure 
 speech our heroine had made since her accident. 
 
 " The gift of life !" cried Paddleford ; "what is 
 life, that we should be grateful for it ? A scene of 
 disappointment without hope, and hope without 
 disappointment ; a chapter whose beginning is tears, 
 whose last verse is written in blood ; a mirror, which 
 presents to us every day a new wretch in the same 
 person ; a spectral shadow, ever changing, yet still 
 the same ; a long lane, whose windings end where 
 they began, and begin where they end ; a rope 
 twisted with our heart-strings, embalmed in our tears, 
 and having at one end a slipping noose, with which 
 all mankind are at last tucked up!" 
 
 " Oh !" groaned the whole azure coterie, horror- 
 stricken at this soul-harrowing picture. 
 
 "What language!" 
 
 "What sentiment!" 
 
 "What feeling!" 
 
 " What soul-subjewing retrospections!" exclaim 
 ed Mrs. Coates. "What a happy devil-opement 
 of mind !" 
 
 Lucia was overawed and silenced by the elo 
 quence of Paddleford, and the suffrages of all the
 
 THE AZURE HOSE. Ill 
 
 company. She became doubtful, to say the least, 
 as to the propriety of feeling gratitude for such a 
 worthless gift as that of life, and relapsed into a 
 decided preference of the gift of speech over the 
 capacity for action. She looked on the great Pad- 
 dleford as a most sublime mortal ; for such indeed 
 is the intrinsic dignity of that courage which defies 
 death in a good cause, that even the affectation of 
 contempt of life imposes a feeling of respect upon 
 the inexperienced. Lucia never dreamed that Pad- 
 dleford came near breaking his neck a few nights 
 before, by jumping out of a second story window on 
 a false alarm of fire ; or that while he affected a 
 contempt for life, he never met a luneral or heard a 
 bell tolling, without a fit of the blue devils. 
 
 "What a beautiful dress you've got!" said Miss 
 Overend to Lucia. 
 
 The sublime contempt of this life now suddenly 
 gave place to an admiration of the things of this 
 life. The whole party gathered round our heroine ; 
 and " where did you get this ?" and " la ! how 
 cheap !" and dissertations on the relative excellence 
 of gros de Naples, gros des Indes, cotepaly, foulard 
 Damasce, and Palmerienne. gradually restored them 
 to a proper feeling of resignation to the evils of this 
 world.
 
 112 TIIE AZURE HOSE. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 A visit and its consequences. 
 
 WHEN Lucia came home, she found Highfield 
 had been obliged to lie down ; and learned from Mr. 
 Lee, that the doctor was under great apprehension 
 that he had received some serious injury internally, 
 from the violence of his exertions or the kicks of 
 the horse, in the adventure of the ride. 
 
 "I am sorry to hear it," said our heroine, and 
 her heart echoed the sentiment. 
 
 The old gentleman was of that order of human 
 beings whom sorrow always makes angry and fret 
 ful, instead of gentle and submissive. He had a 
 most confirmed and obstinate impatience of grief. 
 He was angry with Highfield for being sick ; he 
 was angry with the doctor for not having foreseen 
 he would be sick ; and he was enraged with Mr. 
 Fairweather, first because he made light of the mat 
 ter, and then, to please his friend, hinted about a 
 rapid decline. Now, he could not scold Highfield 
 for being sick ; nor the doctor, for he was absent ; 
 nor Mr. Fairweather, because he was not present : 
 so he set to work, and scolded Lucia. Nine times 
 out of ten we are not angry at the thing we pretend
 
 THE AZURE HOSE. 113 
 
 y f 
 
 to be ; we attack the substance under covert of the 
 shadow. 
 
 " Oh yes !" said he in reply to Lucia's gentle yet 
 sincere expression of sorrow, " Oh yes ! you are 
 very sorry, I dare say. You take him into a cold 
 northeast wind ; you drag him about to milliners' 
 shops, from one end of the town to the other ; and 
 then yon are very sorry he is sick, when you your 
 self have made him so." 
 
 " Dear father, how cross you are to day ! I am 
 sure I did not take him out. I wanted him to stay 
 at home ; but he said he was perfectly well, and 
 would go with me. 1 am sure I couldn't help his 
 going." 
 
 " Not help his going 1" 
 
 " No, sir ; how could I ?" 
 
 "Why you might have knocked the puppy down." 
 
 Lucia made it a point never to laugh at her father ; 
 but it must be owned he sometimes put her to hard 
 trials. 
 
 "If my father had taught me to box, instead of 
 play the piano, I might have made the attempt," 
 said she, smiling. 
 
 " Very well, very well ; you have made him sick, 
 now try if you can't cure him. Go and make him 
 >ome barley-broth." 
 
 " I ? why, my dear father, I don't know how te 
 make barley-broth." 
 
 " Well then, go and make him some caudle." 
 10*
 
 1 11 THE AZURE HOSE. 
 
 Lucia had never heard of caudle, except in asso 
 ciation with certain matters, and blushed like a rose. 
 
 "But I don't know how to make caudle, an} 
 more than barley-broth." 
 
 "Ay, yes ; women know nothing worth knowing, 
 now-a-days. They can dance, and play the harp, 
 and criticise books, and talk about what they don't 
 understand ; but if you want them to do a little 
 thing for the comfort of a man's life, or the assuaging 
 of his pains, oh ! then it is, my dear sir, I don't know 
 how to do it. I wish I had sent you to a pastry 
 cook's, instead of a boarding school. I dare say, if 
 it was Mr. Goshawk, you could talk him well 
 directly. Go in then and talk to your cousin a 
 little." 
 
 " My dear sir, you know" and she stopped 
 short, in a flutter. 
 
 "What, you wont go and see the youth who is 
 lying perhaps on his death-bed, of wounds received 
 in your service ?" 
 
 '* The customs of society, sir," 
 
 "Ah ! the customs of society there is another 
 wooden god to bow down to! You can twine 
 your arms in a waltz with some bewhiskered foreign 
 puppy ; you can go to a masquerade, or mix in 
 midnight revels, with a thousand promiscuous 
 sweepings of the universe, and yet oh, the custom? 
 of the world! they make it a crime to visit the sick 
 in their melancholy chambers, and pronounce it
 
 If * v ' 
 
 THE AZURE HOSE. 115 
 
 ungenteel to know how to administer relief to their 
 sufferings !" 
 
 " Dear father, I would do any thing for the relief 
 of my cousin ; but " 
 
 " Oh, ay any thing. You can't do what the 
 customs of society permit, and you wont do what 
 they do not sanction. And yet it is but the other 
 day you made such a fine speech : ' If he is sad, I 
 will play him merry tunes ; I will sympathize in his 
 sorrows, and rejoice in his happiness ; 1 will nurse 
 him when he is sick ; and if, as you once threatened, 
 you should turn him out of doors, I will certainly 
 let him in again.' " And the old gentleman carica 
 tured her tone and manner most unmercifully. 
 " You know every thing but what you ought to 
 know," said he, reproachingly. 
 
 " There is at least one thing I do know," replied 
 the daughter; " that it is my duty to obey the wishes 
 of my father, when no positive duty forbids it. I 
 will go with you, sir." And together they went 
 into the sick man's room. 
 
 My friend, Mr. Lee for there once lived such 
 a man, and he was my friend my friend, Mr. Lee, 
 knew no more how to manage a love affair than his 
 daughter did of the manufacturing of caudle. Had 
 the romance of Highfield and Lucia been in the 
 best possible progress, he would have gone nigh to 
 throw it back a hundred years. The old gentleman 
 had yet to learn, that to make a woman do a thing 
 against her will, is like shoving a boat against a
 
 116 THE AZURE HOSE. 
 
 . 1 
 
 strong current ; she will move a foot or two slawly 
 while the impulse lasts, and come back like a race 
 horse, a hundred yards beyond the starting pole. 
 And yet he ought to have known it ; for his wife had 
 verified its truth often enough to impress it on his 
 memory. 
 
 Lucia entered the chamber of the invalid, some 
 what against her will, and consequently but little dis 
 posed to sympathize with him. Indeed she felt ex 
 tremely awkward ; and this was another reason why 
 she was not in the best possible humour. Not that 
 she wanted a proper feeling of the benefit conferred 
 by her cousin, but the truth is, the indiscreet disclo 
 sure the old gentleman had made of his intentions, 
 caused her to shrink from an act, which might be 
 considered as amounting to a sanction of his wishes 
 on her part. \dd to this, I believe if the truth 
 were known, she felt some little apprehension that 
 Mr. Goshawk might not approve of the procedure. 
 
 The conduct of Highfield contributed to render 
 her still more ungracious. He was no knight er 
 rant, yet the sight of our heroine on this occasion 
 threw him into something of a paroxysm, not un 
 worthy of Amadis de Gaul. He ascribed the visit 
 in the first place to her own free will, and augured 
 the most favourable results, from the sympathy which 
 a sight of his weakness, would create. He was 
 wrong in both cases ; for in love matters the imagi 
 nation is every thing ; and seeing is not believing. 
 But his great error was in discovering so much gra-
 
 THE AZURE HOSE. 11 < 
 
 titude for the visit, that Lucia became alarmed at her 
 own condescension, and determined to retrieve her 
 error by behaving as ungraciously as her conscience 
 would permit. In pursuance of this truly womanly 
 resolution, she conducted herself with a most admi 
 rable indifference, inasmuch that the good gentle 
 man her father, who had hardly patience to wait the 
 boiling of an egg, became exceedingly restive. He 
 gave his daughter divers significant looks ; favoured 
 her with abundance of frowns ; and held up his fin 
 ger from time to time so emphatically, that Highfield 
 soon comprehended the whole affair. He perceived 
 that Lucia had come unwillingly, and from that mo 
 ment felt nothing but mortification at her having 
 come at all. The whole affair ended in making Lu 
 cia dissatisfied with herself; Highfield worse than 
 before; and Mr. Lightfoot Lee most intolerably 
 angry. So much for obliging a young lady to do 
 what she has no inclination for. Our heroine, hav 
 ing paid a short visit, retired, leaving the uncle and 
 nephew together. 
 
 The old gentleman sat with his nether lip petu 
 lantly protruded over the upper one ; his eyebrows 
 raised, and his forehead wrinkled. The young man 
 reclining on his bed supported by pillows. 
 
 " My dear uncle," said he, "why did you bring 
 my cousin here against her will?" 
 
 "'Sblood sir," cried the other in a fury "I sup 
 pose you mean to cut my throat for trying to do you 
 a favour."
 
 118 THE AZURE HOSE. 
 
 " I am sensible of your kindness, but, my dear sir, 
 you don't go the right way to work to serve me." 
 
 "O no, not I truly ; I am an old blockhead; I am 
 always in the wrong ; I do nothing but mischief, 
 and merit nothing but reproaches and ingratitude!" 
 
 " Ah ! sir, if you only knew my heart !" 
 
 " Plague on your heart, I don't believe you have 
 any, with your infernal coolness and patience. 
 When I fell in love, I mounted my horse, rode one 
 night forty miles to visit your aunt ; came to an un 
 derstanding the very first visit ; and went home irre 
 vocably engaged. I hate suspense ; I always did 
 hate it and always shall. But you, sir damme, you 
 sir ! you and Lucia will make a hard frost between 
 you. She is all affectation, and you all patience. A 
 patient lover pooh !" 
 
 " But, my dear sir, why don't you let matters take 
 their course, as you promised?" 
 
 " O certainly, sir, certainly wait patiently, until 
 I see my daughter runaway with Mr. Fitzg-iles Gos 
 hawk, because he has such a flow of words, and uses 
 such beautiful language ; or 'till I die of old age, 
 and Lucia becomes a pedantic old maid. I dare 
 say if I only have patience and live till I am four 
 score and upwards, 1 may have the particular satis 
 faction of seeing either the world or your love af 
 fair come to an end." 
 
 " But my dear uncle " 
 
 " Yes, yes I am an old blockhead, that's certain. 
 *Tis true I was educated at the university ; I travel-
 
 - .- -'JL^* * 
 
 TIIE AZUBE HOSE. 
 
 led over half Europe ; I have been a justice of the 
 peace ; a common councilman ; secretary to a litera 
 ry society; judge of a race-course; and chairman 
 of a committee in congress. I am not quite three 
 score, to be sure ; but I have had some little experi 
 ence ; know a B from a bull's foot, and a hawk 
 from a handsaw. But I am an old blockhead for all 
 that, and must go to school to a conceited graduate 
 from a country college, and a sage young lady just 
 from the boarding school ; yes, yes, yes " and the 
 good gentleman walked about the room with his 
 head down and hands behind him. 
 "Oh, sir, I entreat you to spare me." 
 "1 wonder," continued Mr. Lee communing with 
 himself, ." I wonder how people managed to live sixty 
 years ago. No steamboats, nor spinning jennies, 
 nor railroads, nor canals, nor anthracite coal, nor 
 houses of refuge, nor societies for making the world 
 perfect in every thing, nor silver forks, nor self- 
 sharpening pencils, nor metallic corn cutters, nor 
 japan blacking, nor gros de Naples, nor gros des 
 Indes, nor Cotepaly, nor any of the indispensable 
 requisites to a comfortable existence. What a set of 
 miserable sinners they must have been ! I don't won 
 der for my part that children govern their parents ; 
 the young the old ; seeing the world is so much 
 wiser, better and happier than it was sixty years 
 ago." Thus the good gentleman ran on, as was his 
 custom, until he finally lost sight of his subject and 
 cooled in the pursuit.
 
 120 THE AZURE HOSE. 
 
 "Well my dear uncle, if you wont listen to me " 
 
 " But I will listen, who told you sir I would'nt 
 listen I suppose you want me to do nothing else 
 hey!" 
 
 "I wanted to tell you, sir, that I see plainly, my 
 self and my concerns are destined to give you great 
 and I fear unavailing trouble, and have come to a 
 resolution " 
 
 "Well, sir, and what is it?" 
 
 "I intend as soon as I am well enough, to leave 
 you, my dear uncle." 
 
 " Well, sir" 
 
 "I have been too long a dependent on your kind 
 ness, and I cannot but perceive my remaining here 
 will be a source of contention between you and my 
 cousin. I fear I shall never be able to touch her 
 heart, and without the free, uninfluenced gift of her 
 affections, I would not receive her as my wife, 
 were she descended from heaven and with an angel's 
 dower." 
 
 "Well, sir," said Mr. Lee, in breathless impa 
 tience and anger. 
 
 " I have little more to say, uncle. When I am 
 well enough, I will endeavour to do justice to my 
 feelings of gratitude for all that I owe you." 
 
 " And so and so, sir, you mean to leave me, now 
 that you have got out of the egg-shell, and can walk 
 alone. If you do, by all that is sacred, I'll disin 
 herit you." 
 
 "I have no claim to your inheritance, sir. I would
 
 fHE AZURE HOSK. 
 
 iy 
 
 consent to share it with my cousin, did her heart go 
 with your bounty ; but I will starve sooner than rob 
 her of a shilling." 
 
 " Will nothing move you to stay with me till I am 
 dead ?" said Mr. Lee, overpowered by his feelings. 
 
 " One thing, and one only, sir I will remain with 
 you and be to you as a son, if you will promise on 
 your honour, that my cousin shall neither be worried 
 or urged, or entreated in any way against her incli 
 nations ; and that I myself may be left to the direc 
 tion of my own sense of honour and propriety in thi^ 
 business. To make my cousin uneasy, is not the 
 way to win her heart, and even if it were, it is nol 
 the mode to which I would descend." 
 
 " WeH then I do promise I pledge my word, 
 that you shall do as you please in this affair> and 
 that Lucia shall have her own way in every thing bat 
 in marrying that puppy sentimental, master Fitzgiles 
 Goshawk." 
 
 " And I pledge myself, that living or dying, so far 
 as my actions are concerned, you shall never havr 
 reason to repent your kindness to me." 
 
 Here the conversation ended. Mr. Lee retired, 
 and Highfield stretched himself on his bed, over, 
 come with a weakness, and perplexity of heart.
 
 THE AZtIRE HOSE. 
 
 CHAPTER XV. ^ 
 
 Mutual mistakes and deceptions. Mr. Lee meditates a inostdarina. 
 exploit. 
 
 THE exertions and emotions of Highfield, encoun 
 tering with his pains and weakness of body, in the 
 preceding conversation, brought on a dangerous 
 fever, which confined him several weeks. During 
 this period Lucia entirely intermitted her intercourse 
 with the azure coterie, and saw Mr. Goshawk but 
 once, when he came in a long beard, dishevelled locks, 
 neglected costume, and various other insignia of a 
 despairing lover. He talked of himself, his depres 
 sion of mind, his distress at the danger in which he 
 saw her at the time her horse was rearing and plung 
 ing. But Lucia just now was deeply touched with 
 the danger of Highfield, and remembered while 
 Goshawk had only felt, the other was suffering for 
 his exertions to preserve her life. True feeling, and 
 real sorrows, open our eyes to the full detection of 
 those that are the spurious product of ennui or af 
 fectation, and enable us to see distinctly into the hy 
 pocrisy of others' hearts, by putting them to the test 
 of a comparison with our own. What Lucia felf 
 now, satisfied her that her former feelings were rather
 
 1UE AZURE HOSE. 1^3 
 
 reflected from the society to which she was accus 
 tomed, and the false colouring in which their false 
 sentiment was enveloped, than from her own heart. 
 The subjection of her excellent understanding to a 
 long habit of associating with caricatures of litera 
 ry taste, and mawkish imitations of genius and sen 
 sibility, was gradually undermined, by an estrange 
 ment of some weeks, and a communion with those 
 who felt as nature dictated, and expressed their feel 
 ings in the language of truth. 
 
 In addition to this, we hold it to be utterly impos 
 sible for any woman, that ever claimed descent from 
 simple, tender hearted mother Eve, to behold a man 
 suffering pain and sickness, without feeling that sym 
 pathy which renders woman, savage and civilized, 
 wherever and in whatever circumstances she may be 
 found, the assuager of sorrows ; the nurse of cala 
 mity; the angel spirit that watches over the dying 
 and the dead. If perchance it happens that this 
 heaven descended sympathy with suffering, is coupled 
 with a feeling of gratitude for some great benefit, 
 and a consciousness that their suffering is in conse 
 quence of exertions made in her behalf, we confess 
 we can hardly believe it possible that this natural 
 tenderness of heart, and this feeling of gratitude, 
 should not in the end combine to- produce a still 
 stronger sentiment, more especially in favour of a 
 young, handsome, and amiable man. We should 
 for these reasons, be inclined to discard our heroine 
 entirely and for ever from our good graces, had not
 
 14 THE AZURE HOSE. 
 
 the present crisis of affairs, awakened her better sell ', 
 and recalled her in some degree back to the desthvy 
 for which nature had intended her. 
 
 It was more than four weeks before Highfield 
 was decidedly convalescent. During this period 
 he had endured much, and nature occasionally took 
 refuge in that blessed delirium which, however pain 
 ful to the observer, is a heaven of oblivion to the 
 weary sufferer. It was at these times, when he 
 knew nobody, and could interpret nothing which 
 he saw or heard, that the pride and delicacy of 
 Lucia would yield to the impulses of her heart, and 
 she would watch for hours at his bedside, moisten 
 his parched lips, smooth his pillow, dispose his ach 
 ing head in easy postures, and once, only once, she 
 kissed his damp cold forehead. There was nothing 
 violent in his delirium ; his wanderings were low 
 and disjointed murmurs, connected as far as they 
 could be understood, with the recollections of his 
 cousin. Sometimes he would pause and fix his un 
 steady wandering eyes upon her, as if some remote 
 consciousness crossed his mind ; but it was only a 
 momentary effort of memory, and died away in thp 
 wild wanderings of a diseased imagination. 
 
 The crisis of the fever passed over, leaving High- 
 field a wreck, just without the gates of death. But 
 youth and a good constitution at length triumphed, 
 and he became convalescent. As he recovered pos 
 session of his reason, Lucia discontinued her watch- 
 ings and confined herself within the limit? of ordi- 
 
 5
 
 THE AZUKE HOSE. > 
 
 nary attentions. Highfield sometimes thought of a 
 confused dream, a vision of a distempered mind, re 
 presenting an angel hanging over his couch and 
 administering to his wants ; but the impression gra 
 dually passed away, and he remained ignorant of 
 the truth until long afterwards. Mr. Lee had been 
 in a passion during the whole period of Highfield's 
 danger, and the doctor had no peace day or night. 
 If he talked about bleeding or a warm bath, Mr. 
 Lee called him a Sangrado ; if he suggested any of 
 the ordinary remedies, he was an empiric, and if he 
 thought of any experiment, he was a quack. In 
 short, the poor man led a terrible life, until his pa 
 tient got better, when the old gentleman grew into 
 vast good humour, and nothing could equal his con 
 viction of the Doctor's skill. Juba indeed insisted, 
 that he himself had a principal hand in the cure, by 
 concocting an African Obi of the most sovereign 
 virtue ; but his master only called him an old block 
 head, and sent him about his business ; whereupoit 
 old Ebony went his way, muttering something that 
 sounded something like ' calling massa out.' 
 
 It was now the beginning of June, when the 
 infamous easterly winds, that spoil the genial breath 
 of spring with chilling vapours, generally give place 
 to the southern airs of summer. Lucia and High- 
 field had resumed their intercourse, but with no 
 great appearance of cordiality. Highfield remained 
 ignorant of the cares she had lavished and the tears 
 >he had shed while he was unconscious of every 
 11*
 
 THE AZURE HOSE. 
 
 thing, and Lucia, fearful that he might possibly 
 know it, shrunk with a timid consciousness from 
 all appearance or indication of that deep feeling 
 which late events had wakened in her bosom. He 
 resolved, in the recesses of his mind, to refrain in 
 future from every attention to his cousin, but such 
 as their relationship demanded ; and she secretly 
 determined to hide the strong preference she now 
 felt, under the impenetrable mask of cool indiffer 
 ence. I will not, said Highfield mentally, I will 
 not appeal to her gratitude or pity, for what her 
 love denies ; and I, thought Lucia, scorn to repay 
 with love a debt of gratitude to one who seems to 
 think that alone sufficient. Neither of them suspected 
 the other's feelings, and pride stepped in to complete 
 iheir blindness. 
 
 The consequence was, that, finding each other'? 
 society mutually irksome and unsatisfactory, they 
 avoided all intercourse but such as was indispensable. 
 Highfield sought every opportunity of being from 
 home ; and Lucia was more than ever in the com 
 pany of Mr. Goshawk, who became every day more 
 miserable and incomprehensible. He talked oi 
 smothered feelings in a voice of thunder, and sighed 
 '.vith such emphasis, that he on one occasion dis 
 lodged a geranium pot from a front window, and 
 came very near breaking the head of a little chim 
 ney-sweep who was sunning himself below. But 
 Lucia, though she encouraged his affectations, from 
 i mysterious, indefinite desire to be revenged on
 
 THE AZURE HOSE. 127 
 
 Highfield for she knew not what, began to sicken a 
 little at his superlative azure. Of late she had 
 become too well acquainted with the substance of 
 feeling and passion to be deluded by the shadow, 
 and sometimes, amid the depression of her mind, 
 felt a great inclination to laugh at the mighty Gos 
 hawk and his mighty verbosity. This heartless 
 intimacy contributed still more to estrange Highfield 
 from home and her society ; for, unacquainted as 
 he was with her real feelings, he believed in his 
 heart that his cousin had a decided prepossession 
 for the empty sentimentalist. He had never alto 
 gether recovered his strength or his colour ; there 
 was a paleness in his face, a lassitude about his frame, 
 and a slow languor of motion, which gave to his 
 appearance a touching interest ; and Lucia, as she 
 sometimes watched him without being seen, felt the 
 tears on her eyelashes, as she noticed the wreck of 
 his youth, and recalled to mind to what it was owing. 
 Thus matters remained ; Highfield was only waiting 
 the return of his strength, to make a final effort to 
 disengage himself from the family and pursue his 
 fortune ; Goshawk was daily meditating whether he 
 should sell the old gentleman's lands and buy stock 
 when he married Lucia and succeeded to the estate: 
 and Lucia was daily losing her vivacity in the des 
 perate attempt to be gay. 
 
 But what became of Mr. Lightfoot Lee all thi> 
 while ? The old gentleman was in the finest quan 
 dary imaginable. He grew so impatient there wa>
 
 128 THE AZUKE HOSE. 
 
 no living with, him, and quarrelled with Juba fort) 
 times a day. There was nobody else he could quar 
 rel with. Mrs. Coates had gone to pay a visit to 
 Hold Hingland, and renew her acquaintance with 
 Sir Richard Gammon and Sir Cloudesley Shovel ; 
 Mr. Fairweather had gone to see the Grand Canal; 
 and to Highfield, he was bound by a solemn pro 
 mise not to say any thing on the subject nearest his 
 heart. Never was man so encumbered to the very 
 throat with vexations, that almost choaked him for 
 want of a vent ; notwithstanding he had a most in- 
 genius way of letting off a little high steam now and 
 then. If he happened to encounter a beggar wo 
 man at the door, he sent her about her business, with 
 a most edifying lecture on idleness, unthrift and in 
 temperance ; if a dog came in his way he was pretty 
 sure of a kick ; if a door interposed it might fairly 
 calculate upon a slam ; and if the weather was any 
 way deserving of reproof, it mierht not hope to 
 escape a phillippic. Unfortunately for Mr. Lee he 
 had no wife, to become the residuary legatee of his 
 splenetic humours ; but then he made himself amends 
 by falling upon the corporation for suffering the 
 swine to follow their instinct of wallowing in the 
 mud, and for furnishing mud for them to wallow in ; 
 for not taking up the beggars, and for taking up so 
 much time in passing laws instead of seeing to the 
 execution of those already passed ; for allowing the 
 little boys to fly kites in the street ; for spending 
 money in monuments and canal celebrations, and
 
 
 THE AZURE nosii. 129 
 
 lr every thing that ever occurred to the imagina 
 tion of a worthy old gentleman, who made amends 
 for his mouth being shut on one subject, by declaim 
 ing upon a thousand others, about which he did not 
 care a fig. 
 
 PC could not help seeing that his favourite pro 
 ject was in a most backsliding condition, and that 
 every day Lucia was less with Highfield and more 
 with Goshawk. Whereupon he gathered himself to 
 gether, and uttered a tremendous libel upon literary 
 pretenders, rhyming fops, empty declaimers, and sen 
 timental puppies. Nay he spared not the axures them 
 selves, but pronounced their condemnation in words 
 of such horrible atrocity, that I will not dare the re 
 sponsibility even of putting them on record. I will 
 not deny, however, that in the midst of his blasphe 
 mies he said some things carrying with them a remote 
 affinity with common sense. He affirmed that there 
 was among the women of the present fashionable 
 world, a hollow affectation of literature ; an admira 
 tion of affected sentiment and overstrained hyper 
 bole ; that they placed too little value on morals, 
 and too much on manners ; that an amiable dispo 
 sition, together with all the qualities essential to 
 honourable action, were held in little consideration, 
 while they paid their court to the most diminutive 
 dwarf of a genius, and listened with exclusive de 
 light to frothy declamations, the product of empty 
 heads and hollow hearts, alike devoid of manly 
 firmness or the capacity to be uselful in any honour-
 
 130 THE AZURE UOSK. 
 
 able rank or situation. He reproached them in hi? 
 heart, with being the dupes of false sentiment and 
 affected sorrow ; and finally concluded his blasphe 
 mies by giving it as his settled opinion, that the pre 
 sent system of female education was admirably cal 
 culated to make daughters extravagant, wives ridicu 
 lous, and mothers incapable of fulfilling their duties. 
 But I entreat my beloved female readers to recollect, 
 that all this was soliloquized in a passion by an el 
 derly gentleman, born long before the invention of 
 steam engines and spinning jennies, and that I only 
 place it on record for the purpose of showing what 
 a prodigious " developement of mind," has taken 
 place in the world, since Mr. Lee received his early 
 impressions. 
 
 The good gentleman sat himself down in his li 
 brary, and fell into a deep contemplation on the 
 course proper to be pursued in this perplexing state 
 of his domestic affairs ; which lasted at least hah an 
 hour. At length he started up with almost youthful 
 alacrity and rung the bell. In due time, that is, in 
 no very great haste, king Juba made his appearance. 
 
 " Juba," said Mr. Lee, "bring out my besi blue 
 coat, buff waistcoat, and snuff coloured breeches. I 
 am going to dress." 
 
 " No time yet, massa, to dress for dinner " said 
 Juba. 
 
 " I tell you bring out my best suit, you obstinate 
 old snowball I am going to pay a visit to a lady." 
 
 ' A lady sir, massa !"
 
 1'HE AZURE HOSE 131 
 
 k Ay, a lady is there any thing to grin at, hi 
 ray visiting a lady, you blockhead ?" 
 
 " Juba," quoth Mr. Lee while dressing himself, 
 " Juba, how old am I ?" 
 
 "Massa, fifty-eight, last grass." 
 
 "No such thing, sir, I'm just fifty-five, not a da^ 
 older. How should you know any thing about it ?" 
 
 " Why I only saw massa, de berry day he born 
 dat was ay let me see, was twenty-rsecond day 
 of" 
 
 " Hold your peace, sir you've lost your memory, 
 as well as all the five senses, I believe." 
 
 "Well, well, no great matter if massa, two, tree 
 year older or younger all de same a hundred year? 
 hence." 
 
 . " But it is matter I tell you, sir I'm going to be 
 married." 
 
 "Married!" echoed Juba, his white eyes almost 
 starting out of his ebony head " married !" He 
 saw at a glance such a resolution would be fatal to 
 his supremacy. 
 
 u Ay, married ; is there any thing so extraordina 
 ry in that ?" 
 
 " But what Miss Lucy say to dat, massa ?" 
 
 " I mean to disinherit her." 
 
 Juba's eyes opened wider than ever, and In- 
 thought to himself the debil was in his massa. 
 
 " What young massa Highfield say to dat?" 
 
 "I don't care what he says ; I mean to disinherit 
 him too."
 
 132 THK AZVEK HOSE. 
 
 " Whew whew !" was the reply of old ebom . 
 " Massa tell me what lady he hab in he eye ?" 
 
 " Miss Appleby." 
 
 " Miss Applepie too young for old raassa." 
 
 Juba had been long accustomed to call Mr. Lee 
 " old massa," without giving offence, but now the 
 phrase was taken in high dudgeon. 
 
 " Old master you blockhead, who gave you the 
 liberty of calling me old ? I'm only fifty-five, and 
 Miss Appleby is twenty-two ; the difference is not 
 great." 
 
 " Yes, but when Miss Applepie fifty-five, where 
 old massa be den ?" quoth Juba. 
 
 This was a home question. Mr. Lee dismissed 
 Juba, and sat down to calculate where he should be 
 when Miss Appleby attained to the age of fifty-five. 
 The result was altogether unsatisfactory. He again 
 rung for Juba, and directed him to put up his best 
 suit again. 
 
 " I have put off my visit till to-morrow." 
 
 "Massa better put him off till doomday." quoth 
 Juba to himself; and so massa did.
 
 
 AZURE HOSE. 
 
 HAPTER XVI. 
 
 Our hero determines on a voyage. 
 
 THERE never was a man, or woman either, that 
 found such difficulty in keeping silence on what was 
 uppermost in their hearts, as Mr. Lee, or who had 
 more ingenious ways of giving side hits, and utter 
 ing wicked inuendos. He never on any occasion 
 missed an opportunity of launching out against addk' 
 pated rhymesters; boys that thought themselves 
 wiser than their betters ; and girls who talked senti 
 ment and forgot their duty. If Goshawk uttered a 
 word of azure, he cried "Pish!" if Lucia talked 
 sentiment, he ejaculated some other epithet of mortal 
 contempt ; and if Highfield said any thing about 
 honour or independence, he called him a puppy. 
 
 In the mean time matters were growing worse and 
 worse e^ery day. Goshawk ventured to hint pretty 
 distinctly the nature and object of his mysterious 
 sorrows ; Lucia treated her cousin with increasing 
 coolness and Highfield looked paler and paler. 
 Unable to bear his situation any longer, he one 
 morning it was the day after Lucia had given the, 
 watch chain, she had promised him, to Goshawk, 
 before his very eyes he one morning took the op 
 12
 
 
 HtE AZURE HOSE. 
 
 portunity of being left alone with his uncle, to an 
 nounce to him, that being now sufficiently recovered 
 from his indisposition, it was his intention to visit his 
 I'elativesin the south, and spend some time with them. 
 " Perhaps indeed I may not return at all," said be. 
 
 Mr. Lee was struck dumb for a moment ; but 
 whenever this happens to people, it is pretty certain 
 they will make themselves ample amends for their 
 silence, as soon after as possible. 
 
 " Not come back at all !" at length roared the 
 old gentleman ; " did you say that, boy ?" 
 
 "I did, sir," said Highfield, firmly; "my situa 
 tion here is becoming intolerable. I am harassed 
 with anxieties ; depressed by a sense of degrading 
 dependence ; and cut to the soul by perceiving 
 every day new reasons to believe my cousin knows 
 and despises my presumption." 
 
 "May. I speak?" cried Mr. Lee, gasping for 
 breath. 
 
 " Hear me out first, my dear and honoured sir," 
 said the other. " When you first proposed this 
 union to me, I considered the subject deeply. I 
 reflected that though poor and dependent on your 
 bounty, still, next to your daughter^,! was your 
 nearest relative ; my cousin was rich enough to 
 make it immaterial that I was poor ; she was lovely, 
 amiable, and intelligent, such' a being as, when held 
 up to the hopes and wishes of youth, could not but 
 prove irresistible. I therefore consented to try my 
 chance for this glorious prize by every means be-
 
 s 
 
 THE AZURE HOSE. 135 
 
 * -oiiiing a man of spirit and honour placed in such a 
 delicate situation. You see the result, sir. Lucia 
 not only feels indifferent to me, but there is every 
 appearance that she prefers another. I am too poor 
 and too proud to persecute or see her persecuted ; 
 and, let me add, too much attached to my cousin to 
 remain and see her united to another man. It is 
 therefore my settled determination, to leave you the 
 day after to-morrow. My passage is taken." 
 
 Mr. Lee was struck dumb again ; but the fit did 
 not last long. 
 
 " May I speak now do you release me from my 
 promise ?" cried he, his eyes starting almost out of 
 his head. 
 
 As respects myself, sir, say what you wiin but 
 for my cousin, I claim your promise that she shall 
 suffer no persecution on my account." 
 
 "And so, sir, I must not speak to my own child?" 
 
 " I claim your promise, sir. Let her remain for 
 ever ignorant of my motives for leaving you." 
 
 " Charles," said the old man, taking his hand 
 with tears in his eyes, " are you determined to aban 
 don me in my old age ?" 
 
 ' " My dear uncle, my benefactor, any thing but 
 this ! I cannot stay to be murdered by inches, and 
 stand in the way of my cousin's happiness. 1 must 
 go. But wherever 1 do go, whatever my lot may 
 be, my last breath of life will be all gratitude for 
 your past kindness. I wish it were otherwise ; but, 
 for some time at least, we must part."
 
 136 TH AZURE HOSE. 
 
 "Charles! Charles! my boy!" cried the warm 
 hearted old man, as he put liis arms about his neck 
 and wept on his shoulder. At this moment Lucia 
 entered, and inquired anxiously what was the matter:" 
 
 " The matter ! you, you are the matter," ex 
 claimed Mr. Lee in a fury. 
 
 " Recollect your word of honour, sir," whispered 
 Highfield to his uncle, as he left the room. The old 
 gentleman cast a most terrible look at his daughter, 
 and followed. Lucia remained pondering for some 
 time on the scene that had just passed ; and it was 
 not till she learned that Highfield was on the point 
 of leaving home for a long while, that her perplexity 
 became absorbed in another and more powerful 
 feeling. 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 Highfield enters on a voyage. 
 
 JUBA was assisting Ins young master, or ratber 
 delaying hina, in packing up his things, for the old 
 man made a sad business of it ; Lucia was in her 
 chamber, netting a purse as fast as her eyes would 
 let her; and Mr. Lee was in his library, writinc 
 with all his might.
 
 THE AZURE HUSK. 
 
 'Ah, Massa Highfield!" said Juba at length. 
 *' what Miss Lucia say when you go away ?" 
 
 " Miss Lucia say !" quoth the other, somewhat 
 surprised, " why nothing." 
 
 "Ah, Massa Highfield ! if you only know what I 
 know, icod ! massa wouldn't stir a peg, I reckon." 
 
 " What are you talking about, Juba, and what 
 are you doing ? You've put rny old boots up with 
 my clean cravats." 
 
 "Ah, massa ! I know what I say, but I don't 
 know what I do now, much ; but if Massa High- 
 field only know what I do dat's all." 
 
 "Well what do you know, Juba: 1 " said Highfield, 
 hardly knowing what he was saying at the moment. 
 
 " I know Miss Lucia break her heart when you 
 ijone." 
 
 " Pooh ! Miss Lucia don't care whether I go or 
 slay." 
 
 "Ah, Massa Highfield ! if you only see her set 
 by your bed-side when you light-headed, and cry 
 so, and say prayers, and wipe your forehead, and 
 kiss it " 
 
 " What what are you talking about, you old 
 tool ?" cried Highfield, almost gasping for breath. 
 k! If you say another word, I'll turn you out of the 
 room." 
 
 "Ah, Juba always old fool no young fools now- 
 a-days ; all true dough, by jingo, I swear. 1 seed 
 her wid my own eyes dat's all." And he went on 
 with his packing slower than ever, while Highfield 
 
 <2
 
 138 THE AZURE HOSE. 
 
 sunk into a deep reverie, the subject of which the 
 reader must know little of his own heart if he re 
 quires me to unfold. 
 
 The next morning was the last they were to spend 
 together, and the little party met at breakfast. 
 Lucia at first had determined to have a headach, 
 and stay in her room ; but her conscious heart whis 
 pered her this might excite a suspicion that she 
 could not bear the parting with her cousin. Ac 
 cordingly she summoned all the allies of woman to 
 her assistance. She called up maidenly pride, and 
 womanly deceit, and love's hypocrisy, to her aid, and 
 they obeyed the summons. She entered the break 
 fast room with a pale face, but with a self-possession 
 which I have never since reflected upon without 
 wonder. Little was said and less eaten by the party. 
 A summons arrived for Highfield's baggage, and a 
 message for him to be on board in half an hour. Mr. 
 Lee rose, and taking, from his pocket a paper, gave 
 it to Highfield with a-fequest not to look at it till he 
 was outside the hook. Highfield suspected its pur 
 port, and replied : 
 
 " Excuse me, dear uncle, this once ;" and he 
 opened the paper, which was nothing less than the 
 deed of a fine estate Mr. Lee held in qne of the 
 southern states. 
 
 " I cannot accept this, sir," said the young man. 
 " I cannot consent to rob mv cousin of what is her> 
 
 it 
 
 by nature and the laws." And his voice became 
 
 t 
 
 choked with emotion.
 
 THE AZURE HOSE. 139 
 
 . " I insist," said the old man ; " it is all I can give 
 you now. Once I thought to give you all." 
 
 "And I too," said Lucia, but she could get no 
 farther; 
 
 " I declare, on my soul," said Highfield, " I will 
 not, I cannot accept it, uncle. You at least know 
 my feelings and can comprehend my reasons, though 
 others may not. I had rather starve than rob my 
 cousin, and her I have nothing to give either of 
 you in return." He pulled out his watch ; " I must 
 go now," said he ; and his voice sunk into nothing. 
 Lucia had been fumbling, with a trembling har.d, in 
 her work-bag. 
 
 " My cousin is determined, I see," said she, ral 
 lying herself, " not to accept any favours from us ; 
 but but I hope he will not refuse this purse, empty 
 as it is. I have been a long while in keeping my 
 promise ; but better late, they say, than never." 
 And she burst into a torrent of uncontrollable emo 
 tion. Highfield took it and put it in his bosom. 
 
 "And now, my dear uncle, farewell ! may God 
 bless you." 
 
 " Stop ! one moment," cried Mr. Lee earnestly, 
 and looking at Lucia, who was weeping in her 
 rhair. 
 
 " Lucia," said he solemnly, " my nephew love> 
 you, and is going from us that he may not see you 
 throw yourself away on a puppy with a heart a- 
 hollow as his head." 
 
 "Uncle!" said Highfield.
 
 
 140 THE AZURE HOSE. 
 
 "Nay, sir, I will speak; the truth shall out, 
 though I travel barefoot to Rome for absolution. 
 Yes, daughter, my nephew loves you, and with my 
 entire and perfect approbation. And now, madam, 
 I am going to ask you some questions, which I trust 
 at this parting hour you will answer, not as a foolish, 
 frivolous girl who thinks it proper to play the hypo 
 crite with her father, but as a reasonable woman 
 and an obedient child. Will you promise ? The 
 happiness of more than one depends on your reply." 
 
 Lucia uncovered her face, and, having mastered 
 her emotions, firmly replied, 
 
 " I will, father." 
 
 "Have you given your affections to Mr. Gos 
 hawk ?" 
 
 " I have not, sir." 
 
 " Do you mean to bestow them on him ?'' 
 
 " Never, sir." 
 
 " Are your affections engaged elsewhere ?" 
 
 Lucia answered not ; she could not speak for her 
 life. 
 
 " Yes, yes, I see how it is," said Mr. Lee ; " you 
 are deceiving your father again. You have given 
 away you heart to some whiskered puppy you 
 waltzed with at a fancy ball, who can write a string 
 of disjointed nonsense about nothing in jingling 
 rhyme, or criticise a book according to the latest 
 Edinburgh or Quarterly ; and yet look at me, 
 Lucia, and answer me too did you not while your 
 cousin was delirious visit his bed-side f '*
 
 THE AZURE IIOSK. 141 
 
 "I did, sir." 
 
 " And weep and wring your hands; and watch 
 iiis slumbers ; and minister to his comforts ; and 
 did I not once when I came into the room suddenly, 
 detect you hovering over him and kissing his fore- 
 he,ad ? Answer me, as you hope for mine and Hea 
 ven's forgiveness for playing the hypocrite at the price 
 of others health and hopes ; is it not so ?" 
 
 "It is, sir," said the daughter faintly; and sink 
 ing back on her chair she again covered her face 
 with her hands. 
 
 " What am I to understand from all that I saw?" 
 
 "For Heaven's sake sir; for my sake; for the 
 sake of your daughter, stop " cried Highfield, 
 whose feelings on this occasion we will not attempt 
 to describe. 
 
 "Silence !" cried the old man ; " too much has 
 been risked, too much is at stake, nd too much may 
 be sacrificed by stopping short at this moment. 
 Answer me, daughter of my soul," added he kindly 
 yet solemnly. 
 
 " You are to understand, sir, from all this, that 
 that, though I would not shut my heart to to grati 
 tude, I was too proud to force it on one who did not 
 value it when himself. He could not insult me with 
 indifference when unconscious of my presence. 
 
 "Oh Lucia, how unjust you have been to me ! 
 You kn,ew not my feelings, when I seemed most in 
 different."
 
 THE AZURE HOSE. 
 
 " There were two of us in the like error," replied 
 she, with a heavy sigh. 
 
 "The pride of conscious dependence," said High- 
 field. 
 
 " The pride of woman," said Lucia. 
 
 " I loved you from the moment I felt the first im 
 pulses of manhood. Oh Lucia, my dear cousin, 
 daughter of my benefactor, companion of my child 
 hood, will you, can you fulfil his wishes and my 
 hopes without forfeiting your own happiness ? Do 
 you not despise my poverty and presumption ? Do 
 you not hate me tor being a party, at least in appear 
 ance, in thus severely probing your feelings ? Ah ! 
 had I known of your kindness and attentions when 
 I was not myself, 1 should not when myself have for 
 got the deep heart piercing obligation ; I should 
 have been grateful " Mr. Lee could not bear the 
 word 
 
 '*JF 
 
 " Grateful, pooh, nonsense The lady is grate 
 ful for past favours ; and the gentleman is grateful 
 for past sympathy. Look ye, most grateful lady, 
 and most grateful gentleman, I have not quite so 
 many years to live and make a fool of myself as you 
 have, perhaps; now, Lucia, will you take your old 
 father's word when he tells you solemnly that Charles 
 has loved you ever since he came from college?" 
 fc "Long before, sir!" cried Highfield, warmly. 
 
 " Hold your tongue, sir, if you please Lucia, an- 
 x;ver for yourself."
 
 iUK AZUKE HOSE. 148 
 
 "i will believe any thing my father says, even 
 were it ten times more improbable," replied she, with 
 one of her long absent smiles. 
 
 "And how think you he ought to be rewarded?" 
 
 "My gratitude will" 
 
 "Now Lucia you are at your old tricks again ; 1 
 tell you I wont hear a word about that infernal grati 
 tude." 
 
 "What shall I say, sir?" 
 
 "Say what your heart prompts, and do what 
 never mortal woman did before speak the truth, 
 even though it rrake your old father happy." 
 
 '' Lucia," said Charles. 
 
 " Daughter," said Mr. Lee. 
 
 " Charles," said Lucia, and gave him her hand 
 " You shall know my feelings when it will be m\ 
 duty to disguise nothing from you." 
 
 Highfield lost his passage ; the ship sailed with 
 out him, taking with her all his wardrobe. 
 
 Goshawk called that morning as early as fashion 
 able hours would permit, to take the first opportuni 
 ty .of enforcing his attractions on Lucia, in High- 
 field's absence. 
 
 " She no see any body," said Juba. 
 
 Mr. Goshawk said he had particular business. 
 Juba demurred 
 
 "She busy wid young Massa Highfield. v 
 
 " What, is not Mr. Highfield gone ?" 
 
 " No sir,- he going another voyage soon.'' 
 
 " Not gone! why what prevented him?"
 
 144 THE AZURE HOSE. 
 
 ^f 
 
 fuba grinned mortally " Miss Lucia prevent 
 him. Icod, Massa Goosehawk bill out of joint, I 
 reckon," quoth Ebony, half aside. 
 
 Goshawk soon got to the bottom of the matter ; 
 which he forthwith communicated to the azure coterie 
 at Miss Appleby's, each of whom made a famous 
 speech on the occasion, and voted Lucia a Goth. 
 
 " To fall in love with a man of no genius !" cried 
 Miss Overend. 
 
 " Who can't write a line of poetry !" cried Miss 
 Appleby. 
 
 " Who hates argument !" cried the great Pud- 
 dingham. 
 
 " Who places actions before words!" cried Pacl- 
 dleford. 
 
 "Who never made a set speech in his life!" cried 
 Prosser. 
 
 " Who hates passion " 
 
 " Despises criticism " 
 
 " And never reads a review " cried they all to 
 gether. 
 
 Every member of the azure tribe, to whom Gos 
 hawk's despairing passion had been long known, 
 took it for granted, that having so excellent an apolo 
 gy, he would now certainly die of despair, or sud 
 denly make away with himself, after writing his own 
 elegy. He did neither ; but he became if possible 
 ten times more miserable than ever. He railed at 
 this world, and the things of this world ; he tied a 
 black riband round his neck, drank gin and water,
 
 THE AZURE HOSE. 145 
 
 and ate fish every day. One day he talked of join 
 ing the Greeks, and the next the Cherokees ; some 
 times he sighed away his very soul in wishes for 
 speed}' annihilation, and then he sighed away 
 his soul again, in pining for the delights of Italy, 
 lamenting that he was not rich enough to go thither, 
 occupy a palace, and hire a nobleman's wife to come 
 and be his housekeeper, like my Lord Byron. Man 
 delighted not him, or woman either ; he sucked 
 melancholy as the bee sucks honey out of every 
 flower ; the sunshine saddened, the clouds made him 
 melancholy, and the light of the moon threw him in 
 to paroxysms of despair. Finally he announced 
 his determination to retire from this busy, noisy, heart 
 less, naughty, good for nothing world, and spend the 
 remainder of a life of disappointment and misery, in 
 the great mammoth cave in Kentucky. But what was 
 very remarkable, and shows the strange inconsis 
 tencies of genius, there was no public place, no party, 
 no exhibition of any kind, at which this unhap 
 py gentleman did not make his appearance, notwith 
 standing his contempt of the world, and its empty 
 pleasures. 
 
 In process of time, there was a great dispersion 
 from the tower of Babel at Miss Appleby's. That 
 azure and sublime lady, descended at last, as she 
 said, "to link her fate, chain down her destiny, and 
 trammel her genius, with an honest grocer from 
 Coenties slip, who, not being able to speak English 
 himself, had a great veneration for high and lofty de- 
 13
 
 146 THE AZUKE ItGZC. 
 
 clamation. Miss Overend got tired of the exeeuthr 
 Greek committee, and paired off with a little broker, 
 who had got rich by speculating in the bills of bro 
 ken banks, and drank champaigne instead of small 
 beer at dinner. Paddleford married an heiress from 
 somewhere near the -Five Points; and the great 
 Puddingham became a member of the city corpora 
 tion, where he served on divers important commit 
 tees, drew up divers laws, that puzzled wiser men 
 than himself to expound, and became a sore perse 
 cutor of mad dogs, and wallowing swine, insomuch 
 that if a dog in his sober senses, or a swine of ordi 
 nary discretion, saw him coming afar off, he would 
 incontinently flee away like unto the wind. He be 
 came moreover, a great philanthropist, and it was 
 observed that he never, in the capacity of assistant 
 justice at the quarter sessions, pronounced sentence 
 on an offender, without first making him a low bow, 
 and begging his pardon for the liberty he was about 
 to take. 
 
 Poor Mr. Goshawk, being thus as it were left 
 alone howling in the wilderness of the city, continued 
 to nourish his despair at all public places. He was 
 a constant attendant at the Italian opera, where he 
 kept himself awake by nodding and bobbing his ad 
 miration ; beating time with his chin upon his little 
 ivory headed switch, and now and then crying 
 " Bravo" to the Signorina. Every body said what 
 an enthusiast was Mr. Goshawk, and what a soul he 
 had for music, until one night he mistook Yankee
 
 THE AZURE HOSE. 
 
 11? 
 
 Doodle for " Di Tanti," which ruined his reputa 
 tion for ever as a connoiseur. By slow, impercepti 
 ble, yet inevitabje degrees, he at length sunk to his 
 proper level; for the most stupid at last will become 
 tired of affectation, and the most ignorant detect 
 their kindred ignorance. His loud pompous no 
 things ; ihis affected contempt of the world and dis 
 taste for life ; his disjointed, silly, and unpurposed 
 poetical effusions ; and his mysterious sorrows, all 
 combined, failed in the end to sustain his claim to 
 genius. The admiration of his associates dwindled 
 into indifference, and even the young ladies tittered 
 at his approach. He tried the pretender's last stake 
 the society'of strangers. He went to the Springs, 
 where it was his good fortune to encounter the rich 
 and sentimental widow of a rich lumber merchant, 
 from the neighbourhood of the great Dismal Swamp. 
 She was simplicity itself; she adored poetry, idol 
 ized genius, .and the routine of her reading had 
 prepared her to mistake, high sounding words for 
 lofty ideas, and namby-pamby twaddle for genuine 
 feeling. Goshawk thundered away at the innocent 
 widow, and finally soon melted her heart, by de 
 claiming about the worthlessness of this world, and 
 the heartlessness of mankind. The poor lady came 
 to think it the greatest^condescension possible, for 
 him to select her from this mighty mass of worthless- 
 ness. Finally, he declared his enthusiastic love. 
 " La ! Mr. Goshawk," said the widow, " I
 
 ... -4 
 
 ; _-.x , 
 148 THE AZV11E HOSE. 
 
 thought you despised the world, and the people iu 
 it." 
 
 " Divine widow," cried the poet, "you belong to 
 another world, and a higher order of beings." 
 
 Goshawk is now the happy husband of the widow, 
 and lords it over a wide tract of the great Dismal. 
 He orders his gentleman of colour to cut down pine 
 trees like Cicero declaiming against Verres ; reads 
 Lord Byron under the shade of a bark hut; and 
 makes poetry extempore riding to church over a log 
 causeway in a one horse wagon with wooden springs. 
 The widow has already discovered that her husband 
 is no witch, for nothing makes people more clear 
 sighted than marriage ; and the man of genius has 
 found out that his lady has a will of her own. 
 
 Our heroine remains the happy, rational, lovely 
 wife of Highfield, and talks just like other well- 
 bred sensible people. She prefers Milton to Byron, 
 and the Vicar of Wakefield to an entire new Wa- 
 verly. She admires her husband, though he can't 
 write poetry; and is a sincere convert to the opinion, 
 that high moral principles, gentlemanly manners, 
 amiable dispositions, a well constituted intellect, and 
 the talents to be useful in society, are a thousand 
 times more important ingredients in the character oi 
 a husband, than affected sensibility, or the capacity 
 to disguise empty nothings ill pompous words, and 
 jingling rhymes. 
 
 My worthy friend Mr. Lightfoot Lee is so happy, 
 that he begins seriously to doubt whether the world
 
 THE AZUKE 1IOSE. 141) 
 
 is really going forwards or backwards. There is 
 reason to apprehend that he and Mr. Fairweather 
 will soon agree on this great question, and then .there 
 will certainly be an end to their long friendship. 
 
 " Ah massa," said King Jnba one day to Mr. Lee, 
 who was apt to boast of his excellent management 
 in bringing about this happy state of things "Ah 
 massa, icod, if I no tell massa Highfield about dem 
 dare visit to lie bedside, when he light headed, he 
 no marry Miss Lucia arter all." 
 
 " Pooh, you old blockhead, dton'tyou know mar 
 riages are made in heaven ?" 
 
 " May be so, massa, but old nigger hab something 
 to do wid um for all dat guy !" 
 
 " Get away you stupid old ninny !" 
 
 " Massa wouldn't dare call me ninny, if I was a 
 white man," quoth Juba, as he strutted away with 
 the air of a descendent of a hundred ebony kings. 
 
 
 13*
 
 1 
 
 THE POLITICIAN. 

 
 THE POLITICIAN. 
 
 Toys called honours 
 
 Make men on whom they are bestowed no better 
 Than glorious slaves, the servant* of the vulgar. 
 Men sweat at helm as well as at the oar. 
 Here is a glass within shall show you, sir, 
 The vanity of these silkworms that do think 
 They toil not, 'cause they spin their thread so Sue. 
 
 RANDOLPH. 
 
 ONE of the most dangerous characters in the 
 world is a man who habitually sacrifices the eternal, 
 immutable obligations of truth and justice, and the 
 charities of social life, at the shrine of an abstract 
 principle, about which one half of mankind differs 
 from the other half. Whether this abstract princi 
 ple is connected with religion or politics, is of little 
 consequence ; since, after all, morals constitute the 
 essence of religion, and social duties, the foundation 
 of government. Whatever is essentially necessary 
 to the conduct of our lives, the performance of our 
 duties to our families, our neighbours, and our 
 country, is easy of comprehension ; and it requires 
 neither argument nor metaphysics to teach us what 
 is right or what is wrong. These are great funda 
 mental principles, modified indeed by the state of
 
 154 THE POLITICIAN. 
 
 society and the habits of different nations ; but their 
 nature and obligations are every where the same, 
 inflexible and universal in their application. A 
 close examination of the history of the world in 
 every age, will go far to convince us that a vast 
 portion of the crimes, and miseries, and oppressions 
 of mankind, has originated in a difference, not in 
 morals, but in abstract ideas ; not in fundamental 
 principles, but vague, indefinite abstractions, incom 
 prehensible to the great mass, and having not the 
 remotest connection with our moral and social duties. 
 When men come to assume these contested princi 
 ples, these metaphysical refinements, as indispensa 
 ble to the salvation of the soul or the preservation 
 of the state, and to substitute them in the place of 
 the everlasting pillars of truth and justice, they cast 
 themselves loose from their moorings, to drift at 
 random in the stream, the sport of every eddy, the 
 dupes of every bubble, the victims of every shoal and 
 quicksand. Instead of sailing by the bright star of 
 mariners, which sparkles for ever in the same pure 
 sphere, they shape their course by the fleeting va 
 pour which is never the same ; which rises in the 
 morning, a fog ; ascends a fantastic cloud ; and 
 vanishes in the splendours of the noontide sun. 
 
 The following sketch of my own history will serve 
 to illustrate the preceding observations, by showing 
 how near an adherence to certain vague, contested, 
 abstract principles in politics, brought me to a breach 
 of all the cardinal virtues,
 
 THE POLITICIAN. 
 
 I am a politician by inheritance. My guardian. 
 for I was early left an orphan, was the great man of 
 a little state that had more banks and great men 
 than any state of its inches in the universe. The 
 state was too small to accommodate more than one 
 great man at a time ; and the consequence was anr 
 incessant struggle to keep one another's heads under 
 water. Like the buckets of a well, as one rose the 
 other sunk ; and the filling of one was the emptying 
 of the other. These struggles for the helm of the 
 little vessel of state kept up a perpetual excitement. 
 The puddle of our politics was ever in a mighty 
 storm, and like Pope's sylph, our illustrious great 
 men were continually in danger of perishing in the 
 foam of a cup of hot chocolate. Then, our political 
 barque was so small that the veriest zephyr was 
 enough to upset her, and Gulliver's frog would havo 
 shipwrecked us outright. 
 
 From my earliest years I heard nothing but poli 
 tics. Our family circle were all politicians ; men, 
 women, and children. The wife of my guardian 
 made it a point of faith, never to believe any thing 
 good of the females of the opposite party ; and 
 though she was too conscientious to invent scandals 
 herself, she religiously believed the slanders of 
 others. Her candour never went beyond acknow 
 ledging that she believed ignorance and not wicked 
 ness was at the bottom of their want of political 
 principle. The only daughter, naturally an amia 
 ble girl, publicly gave out she would never mam
 
 156 THE POLITICIAN. 
 
 any one who did not believe her father to be a 
 greater man than the Honourable Dibble Dibblee, 
 innkeeper at Dibbleesville, his most formidable rival. 
 Love however proved at last too potent for politics, 
 and she relented in favour of a handsome and rich 
 Dibbleeite. 
 
 For my part, I was nurtured at the breast ot 
 politics, and imbibed a nutriment gloriously con 
 cocted of a hundred absurd, ridiculous, unneigh- 
 bourly, and unchristian- prejudices and antipathies. 
 With me the world was divided, not into the good 
 and the bad, the wise and the foolish, but into the 
 adherents of the Honourable Dibble Dibblee, inn 
 keeper at Dibbleesville, and those of the Honourable 
 Peleg Peshelt, cash-store keeper at Peshellville. 
 At school I signalized my devotion to principle, by 
 refusing to share my good will or my gingerbread 
 with boys of the opposite party ; and many are the 
 battles I fought in vindication of the wisdom, purity, 
 and consistency of the Honourable Peleg, my wor 
 thy guardian, who, I verily believe even to this day, 
 was an honest politician till the age of forty. 
 After that, I will not answer for any man, not even 
 my own guardian. The prime object of my anti 
 pathy was a lad of the name of Redfield, a gay, 
 careless, sprightly, mercurial genius,who always pro 
 fessed to belong to no party, and whom I for that 
 reason considered utterly destitute of all principle. 
 Several times I attempted to beat principle into him ; 
 hut he had the obstinacy of a puritan ond the bold-
 
 
 THE POLITICIAN. 151 
 
 ness of a lion. I always got worsted, but my conso 
 lation was that I was the champion of principle, and 
 must not be discouraged. 
 
 At the time I am speaking of, parties were at the 
 height of contention, and the demons of discord, in 
 the disguise of two editors of party newspapers, 
 flapped their sooty wings over the little state. There 
 was a great contest of principle, on the decision of 
 which depended the very existence of the liberties, 
 not only of our little state, but of the whole union. 
 * I never could find out what this principle was ex 
 actly ; but it turned on the question, whether a cer 
 tain bridge about to be built should be a free bridge 
 or a toll bridge. The whole state divided on this 
 great question of principle. The Honourable Pe- 
 leg Peshell was at the head of the free bridge, on 
 which depended the great arch of our political union ; 
 and the, Honourable Dibble Dibblee, whose princi 
 ples were always exactly .opposite, forthwith took the 
 field as leader of the toll bridge party. The Ho 
 nourable Peleg declared it was against his principles 
 to pay toll ; and the Honourable Dibble Dibbler 
 found it equally against his principles to apply any 
 part of his money to building a bridge which was to 
 bring him nothing in return. Both sides accused 
 the other of being governed by interested motives. 
 Such is the injustice of party feelings ! There was 
 a Tertium quid party, growling in an undertone, 
 which was opposed to having any bridge at all, upon 
 the principle, that as it would be no advantagf 
 
 14
 
 158 jj"^ THE POLITICIAN, 
 
 to them, and at the same time cost them money, it 
 wag their interest to oppose the whole affair. The 
 leader of this party was the Honourable Tobias 
 Dob, a ruling elder of the principal church in 
 Dobsboroughvilleton. 
 
 The fate of a pending election rested on this 
 bridge, and the fate of the bridge rested on the 
 election. The principle to be decided was one on 
 which the liberties of the whole confederation de 
 pended. Is it therefore to be wondered at, that die 
 good people of our patriotic state should consider 
 the destinies of the world and the future welfare of 
 all mankind as mainly depending on the decision of 
 this great question ? or can we be surprised, if, in a 
 contest for such momentous principles, affecting not 
 only the present age but all posterity, the passions of 
 men should be excited, and all the charities of life 
 forgotten, in this vital struggle for the human race, 
 present and to come ? Heavens ! how our political 
 puddle did foam, and swell, and lash its sides, and 
 blow up bubbles, and disturb the sleepy serenity of 
 the worms inhabiting its precincts ! 
 
 On the day of election, each party took the field, 
 under its own appropriate banner. The party of 
 the Honourable Peleg Peshell had for its motto, 
 "Principle not Interest;" that of the Honourable 
 Dibble Dibblee, "Interest not Principle;" and the 
 Honourable Tobias Dob paraded his Tertium quids 
 under that of " Principle and Interest." Here was 
 room enough, and reason enough too, in all con-
 
 ' 
 - * ' * 
 
 * *>' 1K 
 
 THE POLITICIAN. lot) 
 
 science, for the goddess of contention to act a most 
 splendid part ; and, accordingly, had the ancestors 
 of the different parties been fighting from the 
 creation of the world, their posterity could not have 
 hated each other as did my worthy fellow-citizens, 
 for the time being. They abused each other by 
 word of mouth ; they published handbills and cari 
 catures ; and such was the disruption of the social 
 principle, that the adherents of the Honourable 
 Peleg Peshell passed a unanimous resolution to 
 abstain from visiting the tavern of the Honourable 
 Dibble Dibblee, from that time forward. The friends 
 of the Honourable Dibble retorted upon those of the 
 Honourable Peleg, by passing a unanimous reso 
 lution, not to buy any thing at his cash-store ; and 
 the Tertium quids also passed a resolution, that 
 ""Whereas all men are born free and equal, and 
 whereas the liberty of speech and action is the una- 
 lienable right of all men, therefore resolved unani 
 mously, that the Honourable Peleg Peshell is a fool : 
 the Honourable Dibble Dibblee, a rogue; and the 
 Honourable Tobias Dob a man to whom the age has 
 produced few equals and no superior. 
 
 (Signed) "Upright Primm, Moderator" 
 The Honourable Peleg had unfortunately broken 
 the bridge of his nose in early life, and the 
 breach had never been properly repaired. His 
 adversary took advantage of him, by publishing 3 
 caricature of a man in that unlucky predicament.
 
 i60 I'HK POLITICIAN. 
 
 crying out " No bridge ; down with the bridges 1 >; 
 Whereupon the other party retorted, by a figure 
 standing under an old fashioned sign-post, (which 
 every body knows marvellously resembles a gallows,) 
 with a label bearing the following posey : " Hang 
 all republicans ! I'm for the publican party huzza ! 
 give us a sling." The Honourable Tobias would 
 have inflicted a caricature also upon his adversaries, 
 but as ill luck would "have it, the election fund gave 
 out just at the crisis. This incident gave rise to a 
 negotiation, in which the Honourable Dibble Dib- 
 blee intimated an offer to treat the Tertium quids 
 during the remainder of the election gratis, pro 
 vided they would promise to drink moderately, and 
 rote for him. The Honourable Tobias found his 
 principles inclining a little to one side, on this occa 
 sion ; but the Honourable Peleg, having got notice 
 of this intrigue, took measures to bolster him up 
 again, by proposing a coalition. He offered to 
 make the Honourable Tobias a judge of the supe 
 rior court, with a salary of sixty dollars, if he would 
 bring over his Tertium quids. Tobias I beg par 
 don the Honourable Tobias Dob balanced for a 
 moment between the vital principle of benefiting 
 his friends, and the vital principle of benefiting 
 himself. After a sore struggle, the latter prevailed, 
 and the Honourable Peleg Peshell was elected go 
 vernor. His friends pronounced it the greatest 
 triumph of principle that had ever been achieved 
 upon earth ; but truth obliges me to say, the friends
 
 ** 
 
 THE POLITICIAN. 101 
 
 flf the Honourable Dibble Dibblee slandered their 
 opponents with the opprobrium of a corrupt coali 
 tion. To be even with them, the friends of the 
 Honourable Peleg denounced the others as a cor 
 rupt combination. Thenceforward the question of 
 toll and no toll was swallowed up in the great prin 
 ciple involved in the question of coalition and com 
 bination. The Tertium quids, who still kept to 
 gether for the purpose of selling themselves again 
 to the highest bidder, insisted there was no differ 
 ence between a coalition and a combination, and 
 therefore they would join neither. " You are mis 
 taken," said my old schoolmate and antagonist, 
 Redfield, " you are mistaken ; there is all the dif 
 ference in the world. A coalition is a combination 
 of honest men, to get into office ; and a combination 
 is a coalition of honest men, to get them out. They 
 are no more alike than a salamander and a bull-frog ; 
 they inhabit the opposite elements." 
 
 It was in this contest that I first brought the 
 principles I had imbibed from the conversation and 
 example of my worthy guardian, into practical ope 
 ration. Young and inexperienced as I was, I most 
 firmly believed that the Honourable Peleg Peshell 
 was the most honest as well as capable man in the 
 state ; that it depended in a great measure on his 
 election, whether freedom or slavery should predo 
 minate in the world ; and consequently that those 
 who opposed him must be devoid of principle as well 
 as patriotism. It was one of the maxims of the 
 14*
 
 <*..*>._., 
 
 . 
 
 THE POLITICIAN. 
 
 , 
 
 Honourable Peleg, that all minor principles ought 
 to yield to one great principle, by which the life ol 
 every great man should be governed. Once con 
 vinced that the safety or welfare of a nation or a 
 community depended on the success of a party 
 struggle, it was not only justifiable, but an inflexible 
 duty, to sacrifice all other duties and obligations to 
 the attainment of the great object. If it happened 
 that our individual interest or advancement was 
 connected with, or dependent on, the triumph of the 
 great principle, so much the better ; we could kill 
 two birds with one stone, and not only save our 
 country, but provide for our families at the same 
 time. The Honourable Peleg was a great man, 
 and my guardian ; his opinions and example could 
 therefore hardly fail of having a vast influence on 
 mine. 
 
 When this vital struggle about toll or no toll, 
 which was to settle the great principle on which de 
 pended the liberties of ourselves and our posterity, 
 commenced, my guardian hinted to me that now 
 was the time to gain immortal glory, by assisting in 
 the salvation of my country. I begged to be put in 
 the way of achieving this great service. 
 
 " There is my neighbour Brookfield, whose in 
 fluence is considerable. He supports my enemies 
 and the enemies of the great principle on which the 
 salvation of the country depends. I want to destroy 
 that influence.''
 
 THE POLITIC! A N 163 
 
 " Very well, sir. Shall I attack his opinions in 
 the public papers ?" 
 
 " Attack his opinions I attack a fiddlestick, Oak- 
 ford. You may as well fight with a shadow. No, 
 no ; attack him personally, cut up his moral cha 
 racter; that is the way, boy. Even people that 
 have no morals themselves are very tenacious of the 
 morals of others." 
 
 " But, sir, I know nothing of the morals of Mr- 
 Brookfield, but what is greatly to his credit. I 
 can't in conscience publish or utter any thing against 
 his character. His opinions" 
 
 " Pish I opinions I opinions are nothing, unless 
 they grow into actions. You must make him out to 
 be a great rogue, or I shall lose my election." 
 
 " I can't, sir ; it goes against my conscience." 
 
 " Conscience ! what has conscience to do with 
 principle ? You would sacrifice the liberties of your 
 country and the happiness of unborn millions to a 
 scruple of conscience. Ah ! George, you will never 
 make a politician." 
 
 " But, sir, Mr. Brookfield is my friend ; I have 
 visited at his house almost every day for the last two 
 years ; and he and his family have treated me like 
 one of themselves. It would be ungrateful." 
 
 "And so," said the Honourable Peleg, with & 
 sneer, " and so you would place your own private, 
 and personal, and, let me say, selfish feelings in 
 opposition to a great principle, on which the salva 
 tion of your country depends."
 
 104 THE POLITICIAN. 
 
 - 
 
 " But, sir, by attacking the moral character oi 
 Mr. Brookfield, I should not only injure his own 
 feelings, but perhaps destroy the happiness of his 
 wife and daughter, who are innocent of all offence 
 against you." 
 
 "Ah ! George ; I see how it is ; you are smitten 
 with Miss Deliverance Brookfield, and would sacri 
 fice a great principle to a little selfish consideration 
 of your own. I must make a tailor of you ; you'll 
 never do for a politician." 
 
 The Honourable Peleg left me to consider of the 
 matter. It was a sore struggle, but at last principle 
 triumphed, and I determined most heroically to 
 sacrifice all petty, personal, and interested consi 
 derations to the salvation of my country. My 
 guardian furnished me with certain hints, on which 
 I exercised my genius, in the composition of a most 
 atrocious libel. 
 
 " It wont do,'' said the Honourable Peleg ; " it 
 will lay you open to a prosecution for a libel." 
 
 "Well, what of that, sir? I am willing to en 
 counter any peril for the salvation of my country." 
 
 " Yes," said my guardian, after some hesitation, 
 "yes ; but there is no occasion to risk your fortune 
 for the purpose. The salvation of the country don't 
 depend on money, but principle. You are about to 
 become a patriot; and a rich patriot has always 
 more influence than a poor one : you must therefore 
 keep your money for the salvation of the country." 
 
 My commerce with mankind has since taught me
 
 v . * . - 
 
 THE POLITICIAN. 165 
 
 v . 
 
 (hat the capacity of men for worldly affairs is almost 
 entirely founded on experience. Hence it is, that 
 so few men go right in the first affair they undertake. 
 It did not occur to me at the time, that, as I was 
 under age, 'the Honourable Peleg would have been 
 responsible for the libel, had it been published. Be 
 this as it may, I resigned my first literary offspring 
 into the hands of my guardian, who softened it down 
 into hints, inuendoes, and interrogations, and con 
 verted it into one of the most mischievous yet legally 
 innocent instruments of torment ever seen in or out 
 of the Inquisition. The article appeared in the 
 Banner of Truth, our paper ; and was followed up, 
 from time to time, with others still more cruelly 
 unintelligible, but at the same time calculated, by 
 their very mystery, to do the more mischief. There 
 was no direct charge ; of course there could be no 
 refutation. My conscience goaded me day and 
 night. I had not the face to visit our neighbour 
 any more, after thus wounding his feelings; and 
 this squeamishness, as the Honourable Peleg told 
 me, was another proof that I would never make a 
 great politician. I sometimes ventured to look at 
 the family at church, where the grave depression of 
 Mr. Brookfield, and the paleness of his wife and 
 daughter, went to my heart. But this feeling of 
 compunction subsided at length into one of lofty 
 triumph, that I had sacrificed my early feelings and 
 associations, my selfish considerations, to principle. 
 One day I met Deliverance Brookfield, by
 
 '.'', 
 
 I 60 THE POLITIC! A. V. 
 
 chance, in a spot where we had often played to 
 gether in childhood, and walked together in youth. 
 She turned her head the other way, and was passing 
 me without notice. The sense of offending guilt 
 overcame for a moment the sublime theory of the 
 Honourable Peleg, and I involuntarily exclaimed. 
 "MissBrookfield!" 
 
 She turned upon me a countenance at once pale 
 and beautiful, but tinged deeply with melancholy 
 reproach, as she looked steadily in my face without 
 speaking. 
 
 " Have you forgot me, Miss Brookfield ?" 
 
 " I believe I have," at length she replied in a sad 
 kind of languor. " I would never wish to remem 
 ber one who has repaid the friendship of my father f 
 and the kindness of my mother, by destroying our 
 happiness." 
 
 I felt like a scoundrel, but mustered hypocrisy 
 enough to answer in a gay tone, 
 
 "My dear Miss Brookfield, nobody thinks any 
 thing of such trifles in politics ; nothing but political 
 squibs forgot in a day they do no harm to any 
 one." 
 
 "None," she replied bitterly; "no harm except 
 murdering reputations and breaking hearts. My 
 father is dying." And she burst into tears. 
 
 "Dying !" cried I, " Heaven forbid! of what?" 
 
 " Of the wounds you have given him. O George, 
 
 George! continued she, "you should come to our 
 
 house, and receive a lesson of what a few slanders 
 
 T*
 
 THE POLITICIAN. 10*/ 
 
 can do in destroying the happiness of an innocent 
 family." 
 
 She passed on, and I had not courage to stop, or 
 to follow her. I went to the honourable Peleg, and 
 gave him notice, that it was my intention to retract 
 all I had said or insinuated against Mr. Brookfield, 
 in the next day's Banner of Truth. 
 
 " And lose me my election I mean sacrifice a great 
 principle, and jeopardize the happiness of millions to 
 a little private feeling of compunction ?" 
 
 " I cannot bear the stings of conscience." 
 
 "My dear George you, and such inexperienced 
 yeung fellows as yourself, are for ever mistaking the 
 painful efforts which are necessary to the attainment 
 of a high degree of public virtue, for the stings of 
 conscience. If the practice of virtue was not at 
 tained by great sacrifices of feeling and inclination, 
 there would be little merit in being virtuous. What 
 if you have destroyed the temporary happiness of 
 two or three .people, provided you have ensured the 
 triumph of a great principle, and the salvation of 
 your country ? It is the noble, the exalted, the disin 
 terested sacrifice of private inclinations, and social 
 feelings to public duty. Did not Brutus condemn 
 his only son ?" 
 
 "Yes, but he did not calumniate his mother and 
 sisters." 
 
 "The greater the sacrifice to public principles, 
 the greater the glory and reward. The election
 
 168 THE POLITICIAN-. 
 
 commences to-morrow, and you must strike one inorr 
 blow." 
 
 As it is my design to make my story as useful to 
 the rising generation of politicians as possible, I 
 mean to disclose myself without disguise or reserva 
 tion. I did let slip another shaft against poor Brook- 
 field, which probably accelerated his progress to the 
 grave, and deprived my kind friend and my pretty 
 playmate of a husband and a father. I would not 
 confess this hateful fact, could I not lay my hand at 
 this moment on my heart, look in the face of Heaven 
 and man, and say, that at the moment of inflicting 
 a death wound on the happiness of those who had 
 been to me as a mother, a father, and sister, I had 
 convinced myself I was sacrificing a narrow, selfish 
 feeling to an enlarged and universal principle of 
 virtuous patriotism. Poor Brookfield died a few 
 days after the election ; but the honourable Peleg 
 Peshell gained the victory ; and a domestic calami 
 ty was not, as he assured me,, to be weighed for a 
 moment against the triumph of a great principle, 
 and the salvation of millions of people yet unborn. 
 Brookfield was no more ; his family was destitute ; 
 his widow heart broken; his daughter without a 
 protector; and his little son, of about ten years old, 
 left upon the world. But what of that ? The great 
 principle had triumphed; the oppression of toll 
 bridges was prevented ; and the honourable PeJeg 
 Peshell was governor of a little state containing more 
 banks and more great men, than any state of it-
 
 THE POLITICIAN. 169 
 
 inches in the universe, with a salary of five hundred 
 dollars a year, and the power to do nothing, but con 
 sent to the acts of other people. 
 
 From this time forward, I became the confidential 
 friend and adviser of the great governor of the little 
 state, commander of an army and admiral of a navy 
 that had no existence ; who had "five hundred dol 
 lars a year, with the title of excellency, the privilege 
 of doing nothing of his own free will, and franking 
 letters. The Lord have mercy on a little man, who 
 becomes the confidential friend and adviser of a 
 great man. He will be obliged to do for him, what 
 he is ashamed to do for himself; to take all the blame 
 of giving bad, and relinquish all the credit of good 
 counsel ; to fetch, and carry, and say, and gainsay, 
 and unsay ; to prostitute his soul to unutterable mean 
 nesses, and turn the divinity of conscience into a 
 crouching spaniel, obeying every look, wagging his 
 tail in gratitude for kicks, and licking the hand that 
 lugs the ears from his head. I Speak from awful ex 
 perience, for never little man was rode and spurred, 
 over hill, dale, and common, through ditch, swamp, 
 and horsepond, as I was by that illustrious patriot 
 the Honourable Peleg PesheU I beg pardon his 
 Excellency, the Honourable Peleg Peshell, Esquire. 
 
 But I will do his Excellency the justice to say, that 
 he did every thing upon principle, and for the sal 
 vation of unborn millions. Life, would he say, is -a 
 warfare of conflicting duties, and opposing princi 
 ples ; a choice of evils, or a choice. of goods. Iti* 
 15
 
 170 THE fOXITICIAK. 
 
 the business of a wise man to decide, notbetween thf 
 nearest and' the most distant, but between the great 
 er and the Jesser obligation. 
 
 " But," said I modestly for by this time, such is 
 the magic of dependence on great men, I had come 
 to look upon his Excellency as an oracle irrefragable ; 
 " But," said I," suppose one man was holding a 
 red hot poker to your nose, while another was call 
 ing upon you to establish a great principle, would 
 not you attend to the poker before the principle?" 
 
 " Certainly I would, sir *' His Excellency never 
 of late called me sir, but when he was a little out of 
 humour " Certainly, sir ; but it would be only in 
 compliment to the weakness of human nature ; for 
 nothing is more certain than that it would be my 
 duty to let the poker burn up my nose, rather than 
 miss the opportunity of benefiting future ages, by 
 the establishment of a great political principle." 
 
 " But will your Excellency permit me to ask how 
 you ascertain to a certainty that a great political 
 principle is right, when perhaps one half of mankind 
 think it wrong ?" 
 
 "Why, sir, my own reason and experience teach 
 me." 
 
 " But another's man reason and experience teach 
 him directly the contrary." 
 
 " Then he must be either a great blockhead, or a 
 great knave," replied the Honourable I mean hi^ 
 Excellency the Honourable PelegPeshell. in atonr 
 that precluded farther questioning. 

 
 THE POLITICIAN. 171 
 
 It was many years afterwards that I perceived the 
 fallacy of thus raising- up an idol, which while one man 
 worshipped another abhorred, and sacrificing to it 
 the eternal and immutable attributes of justice and 
 truth, about which there can be no difference of 
 opinion. It was only long experience and reflection 
 that convinced me at last, that the sacrifice of moral 
 and social duties, to mere opinions, elevated to the 
 dignity of great and established principles, about 
 which all mankind differ, must be fatal in the end, 
 not only to the morals of mankind, but to that free 
 dom whose only foundation is based upon them. 1 
 received the responses of his Excellency with pro 
 found submission, and continued to act upon them in 
 a long series of political servitude. 
 
 About a year after the great triumph of principle, 
 which resulted in the choice of his Excellency the 
 Honourable Peleg Peshell for Governor of the little 
 state, with such a plenty of banks and great men, I 
 came of age, and it was proper for his Excellency 
 to give an account of the administration of my af 
 fairs. He put me off from day to day, month to 
 month, year to year, until my patience was quite 
 worn out. At length, finding it impossible any longer 
 to satisfy me with excuses, he one day addressed me 
 as follows : 
 
 " My dear young friend, it is not to be supposed, 
 that a man whose whole soul is taken up with his 
 public, can pay proper attention to his private duties. 
 Whenever these come in conflict with each other, it is
 
 J72 THE POLITICIAN. 
 
 ills pride and glory to sacrifice all for his country, and 
 beggar himself, for the salvation of unborn millions. 
 I cannot tell exactly how it happened, but your for 
 tune is gone ; either I have spent it myself, by mis 
 take, in the hurry of my public duties, or some one 
 else has spent it for me. However, this cannot be 
 of much consequence, since the great principle has 
 triumphed, and the salvation of the country is secured 
 beyond all future hazard. Remember how Brutus 
 the elder sacrificed His son, as an example to the Ro 
 man militia, and console yourself with the certainty 
 ihat you have devoted your fortune to the establish 
 ment of a great principle." 
 
 This reasoning, though it had always proved satis 
 factory when applied to the affairs of other people, 
 did not exactly relish to my understanding in the pre 
 sent case. It occurred to me that though a man 
 might honestly sacrifice his owo fortune to the estab 
 lishment of a great principle, he had no right to 
 take the same liberty with that of another, intrusted 
 to his management. I took the freedom to hinl 
 something of this sort. 
 
 " Pshaw ! George," replied his Excellency, " you 
 will never make a great patriot I'm afraid. Is noi 
 the major greater than the minor?" 
 
 " Certainly, sir." 
 
 " Is not a community greater than an indivi 
 dual?" 
 
 "Assuredly, suv'
 
 THE POLITICIAN. 
 
 ' Is not the good of the whole, the good of all its 
 parts ?" 
 
 "Clearly, sir." 
 
 '* Well sir ! is not the establishment of a great 
 principle, on which depends the happiness of mil 
 lions, of far more moment than the temporary in 
 convenience you will feel from the loss of your for 
 tune?" 
 
 " Certainly, sir," said I very faintly. 
 
 " Good I believe I shall make something of you 
 ut last. You are worthy of the confidence of your 
 fellow-citizens. Now listen to me. Another elec 
 tion is coming on, which involves another great 
 principle, on which depends the salvation of the 
 country, and the happiness of unborn millions. A 
 great state road is to be laid out by the next legisla 
 ture, and I have it from (he very best hand, that if we 
 do not exert ourselves, it will be carried over a part 
 of the country so distant from my property, and that 
 of my best friends, as- to do us rather an injury than 
 a benefit. Now, though I am interested in this busi 
 ness, that is my misfortune. It is the great princi 
 ple dependent upon the decision of the question that 
 I am solicitous to vindicate. My intention is to get 
 you into the legislature, provided you will pledge 
 yourself to stand in the breach, and prevent the de 
 struction of our liberties, which mainly depend upon 
 the great principle involved in this road bill. What say 
 you, will you pledge yourself to your constituents?'' 
 
 " Why sir if " 
 
 15*
 
 I 74 THE FOUTICI A > . 
 
 " O none of your ifs, George you'll never makr 
 a great politician if you stumble before an if." 
 
 " But my conscience, sir." 
 
 " Your conscience !" cried his Excellency the 
 Honourable Peleg "Conscience! who ever heard 
 of a representative of the people having a con- 
 ?cience ? Why sir, his conscience belongs to his con 
 stituents, who think for him, and decide for him. 
 One half the time it is his duty to act in the very 
 teeth of his conscience. He is only the whistle on 
 which the people blow any tune they please." 
 
 " It appears to me, sir, that this doctrine is rather 
 immoral." ^. 
 
 " Immoral !" cried his Excellency, throwing him 
 self back in his chair, and laughing; "immoral! 
 what has morality to do with the establishment of a 
 great principle ? I ought to have made a tailor oi 
 you, I see." 
 
 " Lookee, George," continued his Excellency, 
 after he had laughed himself out, " every young 
 man who devotes himself to political life, must in 
 the outset, if he wishes to be successful, surrender 
 liis opinions and feelings entirely to the establish 
 ment of certain great radical principles. He must 
 have neither morals nor conscience. All he has to 
 do is to inquire whether a thing is necessary to the 
 establishment of these principles, and do it as a mat 
 ter of course, although abstractedly and in itself it 
 may be in the teeth of law and gospel. For in- 
 ,-tance, George why, you are looking at that pretty
 
 TIII: POLITICIAN. 175 
 
 girl, Silent Parley, instead of listening to me. You 
 will never make a politician." 
 
 I begged his Excellency's pardon, and he pro 
 ceeded. 
 
 "For instance, suppose you were, like myself, in 
 a high official situation, and were solicited by two 
 persons to do two things directly opposite in their 
 nature and consequences ; what would you do ? 
 
 " I would inquire into the matter, ascertain, if 
 possible, which was right, and act accordingly." 
 
 " You would ! Then let me tell you, sir, yon 
 would soon be sent to raise cabbages and pumpkins 
 on your farm. No, sir, your duty would be to in 
 quire and ascertain whether the great principle on 
 which depended your remaining in office, would be 
 best sustained by complying with the wishes of one 
 or other of the persons soliciting your interest. 
 Having found this out, there would be no further 
 difficulty in the matter. You would of course de 
 cide upon principle." 
 
 " Principle, sir ! why really, excuse me, your Ex 
 cellency, but this is what the country farmers call 
 being governed by interest, not principle." 
 
 " Pooh, George ! your head is not longer than a 
 pin's ; can you comprehend a syllogism ?" 
 
 " I believe so, sir, if it has a sufficiency of legs." 
 
 "Very well," continued his Excellency, " certain 
 principles are essentially necessary to the salvation 
 of the state and the happiness of unborn millions. 
 I advocate these principles ; ergo, it is necessary to
 
 170 THE POLITICIAN. 
 
 the salvation of the state and the happiness of un 
 born millions, that I should be chosen governor, 
 and reward those who- chose me, as far as it may be 
 in my power. Now, sir, as to my own personal 
 interests; here is the point in which the talents of a 
 great man are most essentially tested; I mean in 
 making his interests and his principles harmonize 
 with each other. If he can do this he is fit to go 
 vern the whole universe ; if not, he is fit for nothing 
 but a mechanic ; for how can it be supposed that a 
 man can take care of the interests of other people 
 who neglects his own ?" 
 
 The logic of his Excellency the Honourable Peleg 
 Peshell, Esquire, was conclusive, and I agreed to 
 vote against my conscience, for the good of my 
 country, if necessary ; after which, I sallied forth 
 and overtook the pretty Silence Parley. It was a 
 delightful summer afternoon, or rather evening, for 
 the twilight had put on its cloak of gray obscurity, 
 and we walked along the hard white sand of the 
 quiet bay, arm in arm, sometimes talking and some 
 times looking at one another in luscious meditation. 
 She was worth a description ; but my story is one 
 of principle, and I shall dwell on such trifles as love 
 and woman, only so far as is necessary to my pur 
 pose. After I had sacrificed my kind friend and 
 neighbour Brookfield and his family on the altar of 
 principle, I never could bear to look Deliverance in 
 the face again. Indeed the mother soon after car 
 ried her family to her friends in a distant part of the
 
 THE rOLlTICIAX. 177 
 
 country, and I saw them no more. Next to De 
 liverance Brookfield, Miss Silence Parley was the 
 fairest of our maidens, who all were fair, if rosy 
 cheeks, round glowing figures, and sky clear eyes, 
 could make them so. She was likely to be an heir 
 ess too ; and the Honourable Peleg hinted to me 
 one day, that it would marvellously conduce to the 
 triumph of a great principle, if I could win and 
 wear her. 
 
 " For," said he, " her father is a man of a good 
 deal of political influence, which he does not choose 
 to exert, being one of those selfish blockheads who 
 prefer peace and quiet to the salvation of unborn 
 millions. If you could marry his daughter, I dare 
 say he would come out in favour of the great prin 
 ciple." 
 
 This time, for a great wonder, I think, for it is 
 the only time it ever happened to me in all my sub 
 sequent career, this time my principles chimed in 
 with my interests, and I determined, if possible, to 
 charm the fair Silence into speaking to the purpose. 
 We were often together alone in the modest, humble 
 twilight, walking and talking, or sitting and silent. 
 We exchanged looks and little civilities, that spoke 
 expressive meanings ; and, in short, it was not long 
 before I saw in the eyes of my pretty Silence the 
 signal of surrender. I had not actually offered my 
 self, but I had determined upon it ; when the election 
 approached near at hand, on which depended the 
 great principle, whether the great state road should
 
 178 THE POLITICIAN. 
 
 pass through the property of the Honourable Dibble 
 Dibblee, Esq. innkeeper of Dibbleeville, or of his 
 Excellency the Honourable Peleg Peshell, Esquire, 
 cash storekeeper at Peshellville, and consequently 
 the salvation of unborn millions. 
 
 His Excellency the Honourable Peleg one day 
 took occasion to hint to me, that it might be as well 
 to sound the Honourable Peabody Parley, Esquire, 
 the father of my pretty Silence, as to his using his 
 influence in my behalf in the coming struggle of 
 principle. 
 
 " I had better ask his consent to marry his daugh 
 ter first," said I. 
 
 " No, sir, you had better ask for his support first," 
 replied his Excellency, peremptorily. 
 
 Accordingly I went to the Honourable Peabody 
 Parley ; there were as many Honourables in our little 
 state as hidalgos in Spain ; I went and asked his 
 support in attaining the high honour of being elect 
 ed a member of the legislature in the coming con 
 test of principle. The Honourable Peabody told 
 me frankly he would do no such thing, unless 
 I pledged myself to vote and use all my influ 
 ence in getting the great state road laid out so as 
 to run through a part of his property, where he was 
 
 ing to found a great city. This was in direct 
 opposition to the great principle of the Honourable 
 Peleg Peshell, whose property lay in the other ex 
 treme of the state. I required time for considers-
 
 THE POLITICIJflT. 179 
 
 tion, and went to consult my guardian. He shook 
 his head and was angry. 
 
 "You must go and pay your addresses to Misfc 
 Welcome Hussey Bashaba, daughter to the Honour 
 able Jupiter Ammon Deodatus Bumstead, of Bum- 
 stead villeton, as soon as possible." 
 
 " But, sir, Miss Hussey Bashaba is as ugly as a 
 stone fence, with a flounce and fashionable bonnet 
 on it." 
 
 " No matter, the safety of the country and th*> 
 salvation of unborn millions depend on it." 
 
 " But, I am all but engaged to Miss Silence Par 
 ley; I have committed myself." 
 
 "No matter, the triumph of principle will be the 
 greater." 
 
 " How so, sir ?" replied I, rather perplexed at this 
 mystery. 
 
 " How so ; why the Honourable Mr. Bumstead 
 is the proprietor of a manufactory, which can turn 
 out votes enough to carry the election. You must 
 be off at once, for the great contest of principle ap 
 proaches." 
 
 I mounted my horse, after a sore struggle between 
 my heart and the great political principle, and pro 
 ceeded towards the stately shingle palace of my in 
 tended father-in-law, to visit my intended, the redoubt 
 able Miss Welcome Hussey Bashaba Bumstead, the 
 daughter, the onlv daughter of the Honourable Ju 
 piter Ammon Deodatus Bumstead, of Bumstead- 
 villeton, the best manufacturing seat in the state,
 
 180 THE POLITICIAN. 
 
 with a great power of water. My horse, being no 
 politician, and withal a most unprincipled quadru 
 ped, stopped stock still at the gate which led to the 
 abode of Miss Silence Parley. She was standing 
 on the piaxza, looking like a rosy sylph, expecting 
 me, for she had seen me afar off. My horse was 
 obstinate, and though I confess I pricked him on vio 
 lently with my spurs, I held the rein so tight that he 
 could do nothing but rear. This frightened my pretty 
 Silence, who screamed, and ran to open the gate. 
 
 She begged me to dismount and lead my horse in. 
 
 " I cannot just now," said I, in a sneaking, sni 
 velling tone ; " I am going on to Bumsteadvilleton 
 just now." 
 
 " To see Miss Hussey Bashaba?" said she, with 
 a mischievous smile of meaning, for Miss Hussey 
 was the reigning she-dragon of the whole county. 
 
 " No," said I, with the face of a robber of a hen 
 roost ; " no, I'm going to buy some cotton shirt- 
 ing." 
 
 I could stand it no longer ; I clapped spurs to my 
 horse :she waved her lily hand, whiter than snow, 
 and I was out of sight in a minute. It was the great 
 est triumph of principle I ever achieved. 
 
 The Honourable Jupiter Ammon Deodatus re 
 ceived me as he would one of his best customers ; 
 and Miss Hussey Bashaba smiled upon me like a 
 roaring lion. There is one great comfort in ad 
 dressing an exemplary ugly woman ; she don't re 
 quire much wooing, provided she is a reasonable
 
 THE POLITICIAN. 18J 
 
 creature. Neither are parents very impracticable 
 in cases of this kind. The Honourable Jupiter 
 Ammon promised me his support, and I promised to 
 take his daughter. We were married in a week. 
 The Honourable Jupiter Ammon brought out his 
 two hundred ragamuffins, all men of clear estate, it 
 not freeholders. I was elected by a handsome ma 
 jority ; and again the triumph of principle, on which 
 depended the salvation of unborn millions, was com 
 pleted, at the trifling expense of the mere sacrifice 
 of a few insignificant moralities, of no consequence 
 but to the owner. 
 
 The collected wisdom of the state, of which I 
 formed one twentieth part at least, met in good time. 
 His Excellency the Honourable Peleg Peshell de 
 livered a speech to both Houses, in which he took <i 
 rapid view of the creation of the world ; man in a 
 state of nature the want of principle in the oppo 
 sition the profligacy of certain leading politicians 
 recommended a loan, six canals, nine rail roads, 
 and seventeen banks and concluded with a touch 
 of piety, that brought tears into our eyes, as he 
 thanked Heaven for having achieved this last great 
 triumph of principle. 
 
 The whole Assembly was divided, as usual, on a 
 great principle different from that on which the fa 
 mous toll bridge rested. The great question on 
 which the great principle was based, on which the 
 salvation of unborn millions depended, was whethei 
 the great state road was to diverge fifteen degrees 
 16
 
 182 . THE POLITICIAN. 
 
 thirty-seven minutes west, or fifteen degrees thirty- 
 seven minutes east northeast. Such is the influence 
 of propinquity in questions of this sort, that it exer 
 cised complete sway on this occasion. In propor 
 tion as a member had a propinquity towards the 
 west line, or the east, precisely in the same degree 
 did the great fundamental principle which governed 
 his actions incline in that direction ; and so intimate 
 was the association between principle and interest, 
 that had I not actually known to the contrary by my 
 own experience, I should have supposed they were 
 one and the same thing. But there were little minor 
 principles operating in subordination to that of the 
 great state road. One member, for example, was 
 principled against voting for any state road at all, 
 unless the friends of the road would vote for his 
 canal. Another would not so far prostitute his prin 
 ciples as to vote for the canal, unless the friends of 
 the canal would support his application for a bank. 
 In the end, finding the principles of the members to 
 be absolutely incompatible, we hit upon an ar 
 rangement, which was perfectly satisfactory to the 
 most tender conscience, and came up to the great 
 principle by which every member was governed. 
 The proposition was moved by myself, at the sug 
 gestion of his Excellency the Honourable Peleg 
 Peshell, Esquire, Governor and Captain General of 
 die little state with so many banks and great men. 
 My plan was no other than to jumble roads, canals r 
 =md banks, all together in one bill, by which the prin-
 
 THH POLITICIA X. 1 83 
 
 ciples of all would be perfectly satisfied, and all scru 
 ples quieted forever. After amending the proposition, 
 at the instance of a philanthropist, by a donation of 
 five hundred dollars to the society for the prevention 
 of tippling, the whole was rolled through triumph 
 antly. Every body's principles were quieted, and 
 every man had lent a hand to the salvation of unborn 
 millions. Such is the magic of public virtue ! There 
 were scarcely half a dozen members agreeing in the 
 first instance, yet such was the spirit of friendly com 
 promise, that in the end every member without ex 
 ception, but one, voted for the bill solely on the 
 score of principle of doing as he would be done 
 unto. The only dissentient was a member, who so 
 far forgot his duty to his country as to come there 
 without a project for her benefit. Having nothing 
 to ask, he was unwilling to give any thing away, 
 and voted against my proposition. 
 
 It was on this occasion I delivered my maiden 
 speech. Public expectation was on tiptoe ; the boys 
 climbed up to the windows of the state house ; the 
 ladies of the Honourable Abel Rooney, the Ho 
 nourable Peartree Brombush, and of the Honourable 
 Roger Pegg, with their twenty-seven blooming and 
 marriageable daughters, seated themselves in front 
 of the gallery ; and the Speaker cried silence, and 
 rattled his hammer so that his tobacco box bounced 
 off the table. I was penetrated with the justice of 
 my cause, the great principle involved in the ques 
 tion, and the dignity of my auditory. I began :
 
 184 THE POLITICIAN. 
 
 " Sir-r-r ! 
 
 " If I possessed the power to flash couvic 
 tibn, as the lightning does upon the bosom of the 
 thunder cloud, redundant with fire and brimstone : 
 Sir-r-r, if I could wrest from the sceptre I mean, ii 
 I could wrest the sceptre from reason, and rob the 
 spheres of the music of their voices : Sir-r-r, if I 
 could, by any effort of this feeble hand and tremu 
 lous body, pour the tremendous and overwhelming 
 flood of conviction like a wall of adamant over your 
 souls, until they melted in the red hot embers of con 
 viction : Sir-r-r, if I could freeze your hearts till 
 they offered an icy barrier to the intrusion of all 
 selfish considerations, and reared the massy column 
 of their waters up to the topmost pinnacle of the 
 arching skies : Sir-r-r, if I could swallow up at a 
 single effort of my imagination, the possibility of 
 believing it possible that the cries of the orphan, 
 the bewailings of reckless and wretched poverty 
 the exhortations of the halt, the dumb, and the deaf 
 the mother's groans the weeping stones the 
 orphan's moans" 
 
 Here I was interrupted by a burst of hysterical 
 tears from the beautiful blue eyes of the widow of 
 the Honourble Roger Pegg, who was carried home 
 in a state of suppuration. This was the greatest 
 triumph of eloquence ever witnessed in our state. I 
 -:annot go through the whole of my speech. It 
 lasted eight hours and three quarters, and I should 
 ^*
 
 THE POLITICIAN. 
 
 have made it nine, had not all the candles gone out, 
 and left me and my subject in outer darkness. The 
 reader may judge of its length from the fact, that it 
 was ascertained by an industrious old person, who 
 could not bear to be idle, that the word " Sir," oc 
 curred three hundred, and the monosyllable " I," 
 five hundred times the word " principle," six hun 
 dred and thirty, and the word " interest," not once. 
 Can there be any higher proof of the purity of my 
 motives? The next day the Banner of Truth pub 
 lished my speech, of which I had given a copy 
 beforehand, pronouncing it at the same time su 
 perior to the best efforts of the three great orators of 
 antiquity, Marcus, Tullius, and Cicero. 
 
 I was now fairly launched upon the billows of 
 immortal glory so said the Banner of Truth. The 
 little state rung with my exploit, as if it had been a 
 second victory of New Orleans, and people began 
 to talk of me for Congress. The Honourable 
 George Gregory Oakford (for I too had become 
 Honourable) was the luminary of the age ; and his 
 rising importance was indicated by divers worthy 
 persons, such as men out of employ, or who 
 had made a bad bankruptcy for themselves ; and 
 young gentlemen, too idle for useful employment, 
 and too poor to figure without it, paying him most 
 particular devoirs, and hanging to his skirts, like so 
 many cockles. All these were impelled by an in 
 stinctive perception, such as animates the canine 
 16*
 
 180 THE I'OLITICIAIS". 
 
 race, to wag their tails and fawn, even upon the beg 
 gar who hath a bone to throw away. 
 
 But though a great man myself, there were still 
 greater men than I in 'our town.' I mean the 
 members- of the general committees ; the nomina 
 ting committees ; and greatest of all, the gentle 
 men who give the impulse, and govern the course of 
 the current by a certain mysterious influence, as in 
 scrutable as that which gives a direction to the 
 winds. Though the study and experience of a 
 whole life, has pretty well initiated me into the depths 
 of political alchymy, I confess I could never fa 
 thom the obscurity of this part of the science. I 
 oould never reach the head of the tide, though I 
 floated on its surface so long ; nor have I ever to 
 this day had a clear perception of the means, by 
 which certain dull, stupid men, often without a tole 
 rable reputation, and destitute of wealth, contrive 
 to lead the people as they do, and keep the great 
 leaders themselves, in most abject subjection. It 
 may be, that the majority of mankind are wise 
 onough to know that those who are most on a 
 par with them, and mix the most familiarly in their 
 daily concerns, whose interests are in fact identifi 
 ed with their own, are their best and safest counsel 
 lors, and that thus, after all, the popularity of a great 
 man is derived not so much from the splendour ot 
 his actions, as from the secret influence of very ordi 
 nary men, over their Iriends and neighbours.
 
 THE POLITICIAN. 187 
 
 As the triumph of a great principle and the sal 
 vation of unborn millions depended so materially 
 upon the predominancy of the party to which I had 
 become attached, 1 did not consider myself above 
 courting these masters of the people by every means 
 in my power. I sought them out at their employ 
 ments, talked politics with them, or rather heard 
 them talk, which is by much the more infallible 
 mode, and agreed with them whenever I could find 
 out what they meant. I brought one of these, an 
 honest shoemaker, nearly to the brink of starvation, 
 by causing him to neglect his business from day to 
 day, in discussing the eternal, invariable principles, 
 which governed toll bridges and turnpike roads. I 
 invited these worthy men, for worthy and well mean 
 ing men a great many of them were, to my house, 
 and hinted to Mrs. Hussey Bashaba Oakford the 
 propriety of drinking tea with their wives, socially, 
 and asking them in return. But Mrs. Hussey Ba 
 shaba was one of those unreasonable women that 
 boast of being mistress of their own houses. She 
 was to be sure no beauty, but she was an heiress, in 
 perspective at least, though as yet her only dowry 
 had been the two hundred votes of the ragamuffin 
 freeholders, a dozen table and tea spoons, and a look 
 ing-glass. But she had mighty expectations, and 
 acted accordingly. 
 
 My wife treated the committee men with sour 
 looks from one of the ugliest faces in the state, and 
 contrived so many ingenious ways to make them
 
 188 THE POLITICIA.N. 
 
 uneasy, that I was surprised at her talents. If one 
 of the honest gentlemen by accident spilled the ashes 
 from his pipe on the hearth, Mrs. Bashaba would 
 jump up extempore, seize the brush, and exercise it 
 . with a most significant and irritable vivacity. If 
 another chanced to bring in a small tribute from 
 mother Earth, upon his independent and sovereign 
 shoes, she would forthwith ask me, with a peculiar 
 emphasis, whether the scraper had been stolen from the 
 door. But woe to the committee man who dared, 
 by any lapsus lingua, to expectorate on the floor ! 
 Mrs. Hussey Bashaba would scream for the help to 
 come with a tub of water and a brush, and set her 
 scrubbing away before the good man's face. As to 
 the good wives of the committee, they came once, 
 andonceonly. Mrs. Bashaba talked all the time about 
 her papa's house, factory, work people, and all that, 
 and made such a display of importance that they never 
 came near us again. To one she said, "What a 
 pity it is you can't afford to put new panes of glass in 
 your broken windows !" To another, " How sorry I 
 am, my dear Mrs. Applepie, your husband is not 
 rich enough to build a new house ! Are you not 
 afraid it will fall down one of these days ? For my 
 part, I shouldn't be able to sleep a wink in it." 
 And to a third, " La, my dear Mrs. Birdseye, when 
 did you lose those two front teeth ? I declare it 
 makes you look twenty years older." The com 
 mittee men and their wives went home all in n 
 huff with myself and my better half.
 
 THE POLITICIAN. 189 
 
 ** My dear," said I, soothingly, " you have en 
 dangered the success of a great principle, and the 
 salvation of unborn millions." 
 
 " The salvation of a fiddlestick!" said Mrs. Ba 
 shaba, " I can't bear such vulgar people. Why 
 they eat out of trenchers, and use wooden spoons, 
 like pigs." 
 
 "I never heard that pigs used wooden spoons," 
 said I, innocently. 
 
 " You never heard ! Huh ! of what consequence 
 is it what you have heard ? People brought up 
 in a pigstye seldom have an ear for music," said 
 Mrs. Bashaba, as she proceeded to blow the dust 
 off the chairs and tables with her aromatic breath. 
 
 My wife was certainly right in valuing herself on 
 her breeding. 
 
 The untoward behaviour of Mrs. Bashaba had 
 well nigh jeopardized the great principle, and de 
 stroyed the hopes of posterity. A fortunate acci 
 dent, or perhaps a providential interposition, pre 
 vented the woful catastrophe. This was the stop 
 page of a bank in a remote corner of the state ; but 
 which, distant as it was, exercised a vast influence 
 on the affairs of distant people. This moneyed in 
 stitution, having no capital, had borrowed the stock 
 of another moneyed institution, in the like predica 
 ment, and secured the capital thus paid in by a simi 
 lar loan of its own stock. They then both fell to 
 issuing: bills like wildfire, and lending money-
 
 190 THE POLITICIAN. 
 
 paper money to any person who could offer them 
 the ghost of a security. My worthy father-in-law, 
 the Honourable Jupiter Arnmon Bumstead, was one 
 of these shadows, which became a substance by the 
 magic operation of modern financiering. He bor 
 rowed money, built a manufactory of coarse cottons, 
 and a town, which he called Bumsteadvilleton, to 
 gether with a shingle palace of infinite dimensions. 
 The twin sister banks got on very well for a time, 
 by redeeming the notes of one of the sisters with the 
 notes of the other. The Cow and Grass Company 
 paid the notes of the Wool and Comb Company, 
 like a good sister, and thus they mutually supported 
 each other in the journey of life. At last, however, 
 some malicious and unreasonable person made a 
 demand of three hundred dollars in silver. The 
 Cow and Grass offered the notes of the Wool and 
 Comb, but it would not do ; the Cow and Grass fell 
 against the Wool and Comb, the Wool and Comb 
 against the establishment of Bumsteadvilleton, and 
 the Honourable Mr. Bumstead returned to his ori 
 ginal shadow again. It was the old story of the 
 boy that bought the pig. ' The butcher began to 
 kill the ox, the ox began to drink the water, the 
 water to quench the fire, the fire to burn the stick, 
 the stick to lick the pig,' and the pig at last went to 
 school, but without being a whit the wiser. The 
 President of the Cow and Grass, who was a member 
 of the legislature, in a paroxysm of indignation, 
 moved that the bills of both these moneyed institu 
 tions should be burnt. Another member moved to
 
 THE POLITICIAN. 1U1 
 
 strike out the word " bills," and insert those of 
 " presidents, cashiers, and directors." Among all 
 the members of our Honourable body, there was but 
 one man the mover of the amendment that was 
 not either president or director of some bank. The 
 amendment was voted down unanimously ; the great 
 principle of banking triumphed, and the salvation of 
 unborn millions was placed upon the eternal basis of 
 paper money. On this occasion I made another 
 speech, which would have convinced every member 
 present, but one, had they not been convinced al 
 ready. If the reader is a tolerable politician he 
 will know that there are two kinds of speeches one 
 for the people within, the other for the people with 
 out. The latter are by far the most numerous. 
 
 This failure of the Cow and Grass, was the 
 luckiest incident of my life. Ninety-nine in a hun 
 dred of the people of our state, were dependent on 
 the banks in some way or other, either as debtors or 
 stockholders. My speech in favour of the great 
 principle of banking, gained all their hearts. .The 
 total ruin of my Honourable father-in-law, actually, 
 for a time, made a reasonable woman of my wife, 
 and caused her to treat the ladies of the committee 
 men with vast courtesy. The ladies of the commit 
 tee men, began to pity poor Mrs. Oakford and 
 pity is akin to forgiveness and finally the consum 
 mation of all was, that the general committee nomi 
 nated me as their candidate for congress by a majori 
 ty of one that is to say not being able to agree, 
 the two parties at length settled the great principle
 
 192 THE POLITICIAN. 
 
 by a throw of the dice. My opponents threw quatre. 
 my friends cinque, and the choice was announced as 
 a great triumph of principle over personal feelings 
 and private views. 
 
 Being thus triumphantly nominated by the gene 
 ral committee, and endorsed by the sub-committees, 
 it became the duty of the people to vote for me 
 upon principle, though it might happen to be 
 against their conscience, thus magnanimously sacri 
 ficing all private feelings and considerations to the 
 public good. In vain did the opposite party ex 
 claim against this attempt to dictate to the people ; 
 the people turned out lustily in my favour, and 
 voted me in a member of congress, against their 
 consciences, for the sake of the great principle. His 
 Excellency the Honourable Peleg Peshell, Esquire, 
 supported me with all his influence, and I him with 
 all mine ; not because it was our mutual interest to 
 do so, but because our interests were so dovetailed 
 into the great principle that it was next to impossible 
 to separate them. In the course of this contest, to 
 the best of my belief, I violated my conscience, and 
 forgot the obligations of truth, justice, honour, and 
 sincerity, more than a score of times; but the Ho 
 nourable Peleg, had convinced me it was my duty as 
 a patriot to sacrifice my duty as a man, on all occa 
 sions when they came in conflict with each other. 
 " The first duty of a true patriot is to offer up hi? 
 conscience on the altar of the public good" said 
 the Honourable Peleg, my mentor. I confess I winc 
 ed a little, for the idea sometimes came across me,
 
 THE POLITICIAN. 193 
 
 that as both parties might possibly think themselves 
 equally right in the great principle, and one of them 
 must be in error, a large portion of the people were 
 offering up their consciences in the wrong place. I 
 once propounded this doubt to the Honourable Pe- 
 leg " Pooh !" said he, " the opposite party hasno 
 conscience ; they are wrong in the great principle, 
 and can be right in nothing else. A person radi 
 cally wrong in political opinions, is like a man with 
 a broken back, he can't walk straight for the life of 
 him." I was satisfied. 
 
 I departed for the seat of government, with six 
 long stall-fed speeches in my portmanteau, for I was 
 determined to convince my constituents at least, that 
 they had not chosen a dummy to represent them. I 
 wanted to leave Mrs. Hussey Bashaba behind, but 
 she was a little inclined to the green-eyed monster, 
 and determined to share my honours. I repre 
 sented only some thirty or forty thousand citizens ; 
 but my wife represented the whole sex ; it was there 
 fore but just that the majority should have its way, 
 and she accompanied me to the scene of my future 
 glories. People who know nothing of the value of 
 a single unit, or even a single cipher, when placed in 
 a particular situation, can hardly conceive the im 
 portance of a member at the seat of government, 
 where a series of mutual dependence pervades the 
 whole social system. There is hardly a hack driver, 
 who is not in some measure dependent on some great 
 man; and even the poor horses, if they could speak, 
 - 17
 
 194 THE POLITICIAN. 
 
 would undoubtedly proclaim their adherence to cer 
 tain great fundamental principles. The first time 1 
 went with my Bashaba to visit one of the foreign 
 minister's ladies, the horses stuck in the mud, and re 
 fused to proceed. I scolded the hackman "Plase 
 your Honour," he was an Irishman, and all Irish 
 men are patriots " Plase your Honour, they wont 
 tir upon principle." 
 
 " What do you mean ?" said I. 
 
 "Plase you, they have just found out that they 
 are going to visit the British minister, and have made 
 up their minds never to pay him that honour, till the 
 Catholic question is settled to their satisfaction." 
 
 The horses stuck to their principles, and stuck in 
 the mud. There seemed some truth in what the 
 driver said, for the moment he turned their heads the 
 other way, they trotted off gallantly towards home. 
 The instinct of animals sometimes nearly approaches 
 to the reason of some men. I was obliged to send 
 for horses of a different party, or more accommodat 
 ing principles. 
 
 The first time we were invited to dinner, my wife 
 was delighted. She was the lady of a member, and 
 happened to take precedence of all the rest. She 
 was led into the dining room by a foreign minister, 
 with a gold laced coat; and consumed all the next 
 day in writing letters to the ladies of the general 
 committee. The next time she was not quite so well 
 pleased, for there was a senator's lady present, and 
 Mrs. Bashaba fell to the lot of an attache. Whm
 
 THE POLITICIAN. 195 
 
 made this the more provoking, was that the senator's 
 lady lived in the same hotel with us, and the pro 
 pinquity made the slight intolerable. The senator's 
 lady was the delighted one now, and declared the 
 seat of government was the most charming place in 
 the world. There was a great coolness for several 
 days, on the part of Mrs. Welcome Bashaba towards 
 the senator's lady. The third time matters were 
 still worse. There was a member of the cabinet's 
 lady present, to whom the ambassador was pledged 
 by the rules of etiquette; so that the senator's lady 
 fell to the attache, and Mrs. Bashaba to the lot of a 
 gentleman with no claim to distinction, but talents 
 and character. The senator's lady and the lady 
 of the member came home the best friends in the 
 world. But the latter began to be disgusted with 
 the seat of government, and became quite homesick. 
 It is an ill wind that blows nobody good. Mrs. 
 Bashaba having been handed into the supper room, 
 at a grand gala, given by a foreign minister, in 
 honour of his august sovereign's birth-day, by a 
 clerk in the land office, insisted on going home forth 
 with. Had it been a clerk in the office of the sec 
 retary of state, or even any one of the departments, it 
 might have been borne. But a clerk in the land office^ 
 it was impossible to get over the mortification. For 
 tunately an old neighbour of mine, nearly fourscore, 
 who had come to the seat of government, with some 
 two or three hundred more of my constituents to get 
 an appointment, was going home the very next day.
 
 J9G Tim POLITICIAN. 
 
 Accordingly I took Mrs. Bashaba in the vein, and 
 sent her off before she had another chance of being 
 handed to dinner by a foreign minister. Previous 
 to her departure she exacted of me a promise to op 
 pose the administration, and particularly the mea 
 sures of the secretary, whose wife had taken prece 
 dence of her at the grand supper, on all occasions. 
 I promised for I would have promised any thing to 
 get rid of Mrs. Bashaba for the season ; and I have 
 the gi eat consolation of knowing that both the ho 
 nourable senator and myself voted against the ad 
 ministration all the winter, upon the great principle 
 of etiquette, which is in fact the corner-stone of ty 
 ranny. Being now my own man, I commenced 
 gallant ; flirted desperately with the married dames ; 
 and still more desperately with the young ladies, who 
 were delighted with the attentions of a member. 
 Let me warn all my readers, who are, or expect to 
 be members, never to bring their wives to the seatoi 
 government. If they are handsome, they will have 
 all the attaches, and all the widowers pro tern, among 
 the members, in their train ; and if they are other 
 wise, unless they happen to be angels outright, their 
 curtain lectures will be terrible. But it is time to 
 return to my political career. 
 
 The first day the House met, and before a Speak 
 er was chosen, being resolved to lose no time in con 
 vincing the world I was somebody, I rose to make 
 a motion and a speech on the subject of reform. 
 >; Mister Speaker Sir-r-r" "Order!" cried the
 
 THE POLITICIAN. 197 
 
 clerk, rattling his wooden hammer. " Mister Speak 
 er Sir-r-r, I rise to" " Sit down the honourable 
 member is out of order, the house is not yet orga 
 nized." An old member on my left apprised me 
 that as there was yet no Speaker chosen, there could 
 be no question debated. When the persons were 
 nominated for that station, I rose again, for one 
 of my speeches I thought would come pat to the 
 purpose now. As soon as the Speaker was chosen 
 I rose again to make my great motion on the subject 
 of reform " Mister Speaker Sir-r-r-r, the repub 
 lics of Greece and Rome" " Mr. Speaker," said 
 an old grey headed member, I am sorry to interrupt 
 the honourable member from from somewhere 
 but I beg to make a motion that we proceed to ap 
 point a committee to wait on the President, with 
 information that the House is now organized, and 
 ready to receive any communication from him." 
 
 " Mister Speaker, sir-r-r, I feel myself under an 
 awful responsibility to myself, my constituents, my 
 country, and the world, to oppose that motion ;'' 
 for I was a little nettled at this interruption. 
 
 "The motion is not debateable," replied the 
 Speaker, mildly. 
 
 I sat down, provoked and mortified beyond mea 
 sure, for I was ready to overflow in a torrent of 
 eloquence. The reading of the message, and other 
 formalities, took up the whole morning; and' the 
 house adjourned without hearing my speech. Thus, 
 like Titus, I lost a day; but I made myself all the 
 17*
 
 198 THE POLITICIAN. 
 
 amends in my power, by speaking it that night in 
 my chamber to two chairs, a three-legged stool, and 
 a chalk bust of Cicero with a broken pedestal, which 
 at every gesticulation I made, nodded approbation. 
 
 My next attempt at a speech on reform was quite 
 unpremeditated. It happened that a party of ladies 
 carne into the gallery of the house ; among them 
 was one with whom I was engaged in a fashionable 
 flirtation for the season. I wished above all things 
 to dazzle her with a speech ; for, at the seat of go 
 vernment, a speech is equivalent to gaining a great 
 victory by sea or land. 
 
 The moment I saw my belle in the gallery, the 
 fervor of eloquence seized me. Luckily at that 
 blessed crisis a member sat down, after a speech 
 of three days, apologizing to the house that ex 
 haustion and fatigue prevented his going deeper into 
 the subject. In my haste, I unfortunately began 
 the one of my six stall-fed speeches which of all 
 others least applied to the question before the house, 
 which related to the Cumberland road, that would 
 be the very best road upon earth, if speeches could 
 keep it in repair. My speech, which was the first of 
 my budget I could lay hold on, was on the occupa 
 tion of the territory of Oregon. 
 
 I set out from the seat of government without 
 interruption, every now and then cocking my eye at 
 the divinity who inspired me in the gallery ; and 
 was puffing and blowing about half way up thr 

 
 THE POLITICIAN. 199 
 
 Rocky Mountains, when a member called me to 
 order. 
 
 " The Honourable gentleman is not speaking to 
 the question. The Cumberland road does not cross 
 the Rocky Mountains." 
 
 "Let the gentleman go on," exclaimed a soft, 
 clear, high-toned voice, in a wicked Cervantic tone, 
 " let the gentleman alone ; he is only making a 
 voyage round the world, and will certainly cross the 
 latitude or longitude of his subject, some time or 
 other." 
 
 This sally occasioned a good deal of merriment, 
 and I saw the loadstar of my eloquence showing her 
 ivory teeth on the occasion. I became confused ; 
 I struck in upon another of my six stall-fed speeches, 
 wandered from that into a third, and finally jumbled 
 them all together into a mass of incongruity, unut 
 terable and inextricable. Fortunately the Speaker, 
 not having above thrice the patience of Job, at 
 length called me to order, and I obeyed. Fortu 
 nately too for me, the reporter, who had made more 
 great orations than all the orators of ancient or 
 modern times, not being able to take down my 
 speech in short hand, substituted one of his own, 
 which was read by my constituents with infinite 
 satisfaction and improvement. Shortly after this, 
 I made a motion to exclude the ladies from the gal 
 lery ; being convinced, from my ovrti experience, 
 that they cause the effusion of more nonsense in the 
 house than nature ever intended men should utter.
 
 >JOO THE POLI1ICIAX. 
 
 I was at first exceedingly discouraged with my 
 excursion to the Rocky Mountains ; but finding it 
 made such a splendid figure in the newspapers, I 
 determined to take the earliest opportunity to get 
 rid of another of my six labours. The next torrent 
 of my eloquence was poured out from the summit- 
 level of a great canal, which, involving as it did a 
 great principle, excited a vast deal of interest in and 
 out of the house. Unfortunately for me, I did not 
 get a chance of speaking, until the subject had been 
 exhausted at least a score of times, in a score of 
 speeches. But for all this, I was resolved not to 
 lose my labours because others had forestalled them. 
 Accordingly, when every other orator had become 
 as exhausted as the summit-levels of some of our 
 canals, I rose in my might, and repeated, not only 
 all that had been said in the house, but all that had 
 been written out of it, for the last fifty years. I led 
 the house from the canal of the Red sea to the canal 
 of the Yellow river ; from the canal of Languedoc 
 to the canal of Caledonia ; from the canal of the 
 Duke of Bridgewater to that of Lake Erie : in 
 short I did what neither Sir Francis Drake, Ferdi 
 nand Magellan, Christopher Columbus, nor Captain 
 Cook ever achieved ; I sailed round the world on a 
 canal. Before I had finished one quarter of my 
 tour of inland navigation, more than three fourths 
 of the members were so fully convinced by my argu 
 ments, that one after the other left the house, 
 having, as they afterwards assured me, made np
 
 THE POLITICIAN. 
 
 their minds on the subject. This time I kept clear 
 of the Rocky Mountains, never quitting my canal 
 for a moment ; and there being no law against 
 repeating the same thing over again a hundred 
 thousand times, I might have spoken till doomsday, 
 had not Mr. Speaker at length waked up, and ob 
 served that he believed there was no quorum, and 
 proposed an adjournment. 
 
 " Never was there a more complete triumph of 
 argument and eloquence combined," said the Banner 
 of Truth ; " the friends of the canal were one and 
 all so convinced, that they did not think it worth 
 while to stay further argument; and its foes fell 
 away before the thunder of his eloquence as the 
 walls of Jericho did at the blowing of the rams 
 horns." I was at first a little mortified at the idea 
 of my speech not appearing with an end to it in the 
 report ; but the reporter comforted me with the 
 assurance, that so long as a speech had a beginning, 
 it was of little consequence whether it came to any 
 conclusion or not. 
 
 I now began to be talked of as a rising politician ; 
 for any man who can get on the back of a canal or 
 a railroad, is sur^ of immortality. I became the 
 Neptune of inland seas, a very " Triton of the min 
 nows ;" and already began to aspire to an embassy 
 to some one of the new republics without any govern 
 ment. " He has made the canal," said a great man. 
 " You are mistaken," said the member with the 
 Inneful voice and Cervantic tones, "you are mis-
 
 THE POLITICIAN . 
 
 taken, the canal has made him." To make an end 
 of my congressional register : I got rid of all my 
 speeches ; besides offering thirty-six resolutions, 
 calling for information which the several heads of 
 departments assured me would require the united 
 labours of six hundred men, six hours in the day for 
 six years, to collect and arrange. In addition to 
 all this, I made about a hundred little extempores ; 
 drafted a bill which was passed after all the sections 
 had Been amended so as to mean exactly the con 
 trary of what I intended, and which afterwards 
 became the father of six volumes of commentaries ; 
 and finally wound up triumphantly at the end of 
 the session, by striking out a " but," and inserting 
 an " except," in a bill for the relief of poor Amy 
 Dardin, after a long and animated debate, in which 
 great talents were displayed on both sides. 
 
 Towards the latter end of the last session of my 
 term, a great crisis happened. The whole confede 
 ration was divided on a great question, which in 
 volved a great fundamental principle, and it fell to 
 the lot of congress to decide by states, each state 
 having a vote. It was now indeed that I felt myself 
 a great man, since a great question, involving a great 
 principle, on which depended the salvation of unborn 
 millions, rested upon my single voice. I was the 
 sole representative of my state, and while others had 
 only the fractional part of a vote, I had a voice po 
 tential. The other states were divided ; my state- 
 had the casting vote, and 1, 1 alone, became a second
 
 THE POLITICIAN. 
 
 Warwick, a king maker! Had Mrs. Welcome 
 Hussey Bashaba been now at the seat of government, 
 she would not have wanted great men to hand her 
 in to supper. It behooved me to reflect seriously, 
 and to delay my decision to the last moment, al 
 though at this distant period, I feel no hesitation in 
 confessing that I had made up my mind from the 
 first, with a proviso however that I saw no occasion 
 to alter it afterwards. As it was, I kept my opi 
 nions as secret as the sources of the Niger. In so 
 doing, I acted by the special advice of my master, 
 his Excellency the Honourable Peleg Peshell, Es 
 quire. 
 
 " I hold," said he, in one of his letters, marked 
 * private and confidential,' " I hold it a sound maxim 
 in politics as well as morals, that where a man is de 
 termined, upon principle, to pursue a certain line 
 of conduct, there is no obligation which ought 
 to restrain him from uniting his interests with his 
 principles, and making the most of the position in 
 which circumstances have placed him For this 
 purpose, it will be wise and patriotic in you to keep 
 your determination a profound secret, or even affect 
 to lean a little to the opposite side from that you 
 intend to unite with at last. When a vessel is at 
 anchor, nobody feels much solicitude about her ; 
 but a drifting boat always brings a reward for 
 securing it. A word to the wise, &c." 
 
 In pursuance of this advice, I affected to be unde 
 cided. I had not made up my mind ; I must con-
 
 204 THE POLITICIAN. 
 
 suit my constituents ; I should delay as long a:- 
 possible, and be governed by circumstances. Both 
 sides beset me with arguments ; but when a man 
 has made up his mind, mere arguments weigh no 
 thing. I preserved my incognito, and talked as 
 mysteriously as an oracle. 
 
 One day a confidential friend of one of the great 
 principles the reader must not confound principles 
 with principals came to me, to discuss the subject. 
 
 " My dear Mr. Oakford, there can be no compa 
 rison between the two principles. You must sup 
 port our principle." 
 
 " My dear sir," said I, "I have not the least 
 hesitation in saying I should support your princi 
 ple" Here my friend took my hand warmly. 
 
 and cried with fervor, " my dear-r-r sir-r-r" 
 
 " But " Here he dropped my hand suddenly 
 
 " But really, my dear friend, the question depends 
 so little on my single vote or my insignificant in 
 fluence, that though I mean, if I remain here, to 
 vote on your side, my family affairs are so press 
 ing at home, and my wife in such a bad state of 
 health, that I rather think I shall ask leave of 
 absence for the rest of the session." A confidential 
 conversation followed which I cannot disclose, being 
 under the most solemn pledge to the contrary. The 
 result was, that I agreed to remain and support the 
 great principle, being satisfied by the arguments of 
 my friend, that the salvation of the Union and the 
 welfare of unborn millions depended on my single
 
 THE POLITICIA.v. 
 
 vote. The triumph of principle was accordingly 
 achieved by my single arm, and I returned home to 
 await my reward. 
 
 In due time, I was invited to preside over a de 
 partment of the government, in consequence of 
 having so judiciously accommodated my princi 
 ple to my interest. It was now that I congratulated 
 myself on having sacrificed every thing to principle, 
 and that I expected to reap the reward of my pa 
 triotic labours in the cause of unborn millions. I 
 proceeded to the seat of government, and took pos 
 session of my honours. But alas! gentle reader, 
 from that time to the moment that I fell a sacrifice 
 to principle, I never knew a moment's ease. I was 
 a pillar of the state, and Samson with the gates of 
 Gaza on his back was but a type of me~ It was not 
 long before I discovered that a statesman exercises 
 power as an ass does, by carrying burthens; and 
 that to be one of the highest of the rulers, is only to 
 become one of the lowest of slaves. 
 
 The labours and mortifications I underwent in 
 the course of my career of greatness, are beyond my 
 power to describe. In the morning when I came 
 down stairs, I found people waiting to speak with 
 me ; I was stopped twenty times on the way to my 
 office, by people having important business ; and 
 on my return to dinner, by other people, who 
 only wanted to say a few words, and kept me till 
 my dinner was cold, and my Bashaba out of all 
 patience. If I dined out, I found a dozen letters to 
 18
 
 206 THE POLITICIAN. 
 
 read and answer before I went to bed, all on the 
 most important subjects ; that is to say, on subject 
 very important to others, and of not the least conse 
 quence to myself. The whole mass of the good 
 people of my state applied in a body for offices. 
 One was a cousin of 013- wife ; another had written 
 in my favour in the Banner of Truth ; a third had 
 his eye put out at the polls, in advocating my cause ; 
 a fourth was a grandson of a corporal of the revo 
 lution ; a fifth had once invited me to dinner ; and 
 the remaining thirty-odd thousand brought the 
 warmest letters of recommendation from his Excel 
 lency the Honourable Peleg Peshell, Esquire, who 
 was determined I should pay for his guardianship. 
 My whole official life furnished an exemplification of 
 the different light in which men view themselves, and 
 sure viewed by others. I scarcely met with a man 
 who was not seeking an office for which he was 
 particularly disqualified, or which his situation ought 
 not to have placed him above soliciting, or accepting 
 when offered. A parson wanted a commission in 
 the army ; a soldier, an appointment requiring spe 
 cial knowledge of the civil law ; a man who could 
 neither speak nor write his native language, a foreign 
 mission ; an independent country gentleman begged 
 a situation unworthy a broken feather merchant, 
 thinking perhaps, with Epaminondas, that he would 
 confer honour on his office, though his office might 
 confer none on him ; an honest gentleman from the 
 Emerald Isle, just naturalized, had great claims on
 
 THE POLITICIAN. 207 
 
 *". " 
 
 a rede republican administration, on the score of 
 having fought at Vinegar Hill ; another aspired to 
 a seat on die bench, having become exceedingly 
 well versed in criminal jurisprudence, by sustaining 
 several indictments with great gallantry, and coming 
 off with flying colours ; and ten thousand at least 
 claimed the gratitude of the executive power, on the 
 ground of having been chairmen or secretaries of 
 ward meetings, and brawling at election polls. 
 There was one fine fellow whose claims were irre 
 sistible ; he had gained the election fof an adminis 
 tration constable, by managing to make one man 
 vote six times at the same poll. There was anpther 
 fine fellow that quite delighted me ; he aspired to a 
 principal clerkship in one of the departments, and 
 his only disqualification was not being able to write. 
 " But then you know, sir, I can make my mark, 
 and the understrappers can do the writing for me." 
 
 " Well, but," said I, " what will you be doing all 
 the while others are performing your duties ?" 
 
 " Oh, I can give advice to the secretary. 1 am a 
 capital hand at giving advice." 
 
 Another still finer fellow, who had broke three 
 several times, never paid a debt in his life, and bor 
 rowed money from every body that would lend, 
 demanded a situation in which millions of the public 
 money would pass through his hands ; he brought 
 me recommendations from all his creditors, who saw 
 in his appointment to this office the only chance of 
 ever being paid. I ventured a delicate remon-
 
 208 THE POLITICIAN. 
 
 strance. "My good sir," said he, "you know 
 private character is not necessary in a public cha 
 racter." 
 
 I believe the only time I laughed, except at the 
 jokes of a greater man than myself, during the pe 
 riod I remained an object of envy to millions, was 
 on an occasion I shall never forget. I was called 
 out of my bed, early one cold winter morning, by a 
 person coming on business of the utmost conse 
 quence, and dressed myself in great haste, supposing 
 it might be a summons to a cabinet council. When 
 I came into my private office, I found a queer, 
 long-sided man, at least six feet high, with a little 
 apple head, a long queue, and a face, critically 
 round, as rosy as a ripe cheery. He handed me a 
 letter from his Excellency the Honourable Peleg, 
 recommending him particularly to my patronage. 
 I was a little inclined to be rude, but checked my 
 self, remembering that I was the servant of such men 
 as my visiter, and that I might get the reputation of 
 an aristocrat, if I made any distinction between 
 man and man. 
 
 " Well, my friend, what situation do you wish ?" 
 
 " Why-y-y I'm not very particular ; but some 
 how or other, I think I should like to be a minister. 
 I don't mean of the gospel, but one of them ministers 
 to foreign parts." 
 
 " I'm very sorry, very sorry indeed ; there is no 
 vacancy just now. Would not something else suit 
 YOU?"
 
 THE POLITICIAN. 209 
 
 " Why-y-y," answered the apple-headed man, " I 
 wouldn't much care if I took a situation in one of 
 the departments. I wouldn't much mind being a 
 comptroller, or an auditor, or some such thing." 
 
 " My dear sir, I'm sorry, very sorry, very sorry 
 indeed, but it happens unfortunately that all these 
 situations are at present filled. Would not you take 
 something else ?" 
 
 " My friend stroked his chin, and seemed strug 
 gling to bring down the soarings of his high ambi 
 tion to the present crisis. At last he answered, 
 
 " Why-y-y ye-s-s ; I don't care if I get a good 
 oollectorship, or inspectorship, or surveyorship, or 
 navy agency, or any thing of that sort." 
 
 "Really, my good Mr. Phippenny," said I, "I 
 regret exceedingly that not only all these places, 
 but every other place of consequence in the govern 
 ment, is at present occupied. Pray think of some 
 thing else." 
 
 He then, after some hesitation, asked for a clerk 
 ship, and finally the place of messenger to one of 
 the public offices. Finding no vacancy here, he 
 seemed in vast perplexity, and looked all round the 
 room, fixing his eye at length on me, and measuring 1 
 my height from head to foot. At last, putting on 
 one of the drollest looks that ever adorned the face 
 of man, he said, 
 
 " Mister, you and I seem to be built pretty much 
 alike, haven't you some old clothes you can spare ?** 
 
 "Oh, what a falling off was there!" from a 
 18*
 
 \ 
 
 * 
 
 -I10 THE POLITICIAN. 
 
 foreign mission to a suit of old clothes, which the . 
 reader may be assured I gave him with infinite plea 
 sure, in reward for the only honest laugh I enjoyed 
 for years afterwards. 
 
 Among others whose names were sent on to me 
 for office, was young Brookfield, son of the worthy 
 man whose hospitalities I had repaid by assisting at 
 least to lay him in his grave, a victim to the great 
 principle on wnich the salvation of unborn millions 
 depended. I had now an opportunity to atone for 
 an injury, and repay benefits ; but I received at the 
 same time a letter from his Excellency the Honour 
 able Peleg, recommending another person, and 
 warning me against young Brookfield, who be 
 longed to the party in opposition to the great Peleg, 
 as well as the great principle. " The great political 
 commandment," said the great Peleg, " is to re 
 ward your friends and punish your enemies. There 
 is nothing selfish in this principle, since you do not 
 reward your friends and punish your enemies because 
 they are your friends and enemies, but because they 
 are the friends and enemies of the great principle on 
 which the safety of the Union and the salvation of 
 unborn millions depend." What were the claims 
 of gratitude or the atonement of injuries to these 
 sublime considerations ? Poor Brookfield was passed 
 over, in favour of an adherent of the great Peleg 
 and the great principle. Brookfield turned his 
 attention to a better object, and in good time rose to 
 respectability and independence^ so that after all, I
 
 * 
 
 THE POLITICIAN, '211 
 
 Hatter myself I was the architect of his fortune. I 
 cannot say, however, that lie ever evinced ranch 
 gratitude for my forbearance in his favour. 
 
 I speak as if 1 were acting in these cases without 
 control. But a man living in society cannot do as 
 he pleases at all times ; a man in high station, 
 never. He is elbowed and restricted on all sides. 
 He has his equals, his superiors, his very de 
 pendents, to influence and control his own wishes 
 and resolves ; is sometimes the slave of his mas 
 ters, sometimes of his equals, and sometimes of 
 his slaves. There is but one greater slave than the 
 second man of a nation, and that is the first man of 
 a nation. I was no more master in my office than 
 in my own house, where Mrs. Bashaba managed the 
 home department entirely, and stood in the place of 
 the sovereign people. 
 
 My domestic affairs, and my domestic enjoyments 
 were, equally with my personal independence, sacri 
 ficed to the intense labours and anxieties of my pub 
 lic station. During the session of congress, I was 
 meted back some of my own measure, by certain 
 watchful and sagacious members, who moved resolu 
 tion after resolution, calling for information on cer 
 tain points, from the first organization of the govern 
 ment to the present time. Some of these resolu 
 tions took up the time of myself and my clerks, for 
 several weeks, and I took pride to myself for the 
 clear and able manner in which I drew up reports, 
 which were received, not read, laid on the table, and
 
 <J1 THE POLITICIAN. 
 
 forgotten. The object of the honourable member 
 had been gained. He had made a motion ; got his 
 name in the newspapers; and acquired among his 
 constituents, the reputation of a vigilant guardian of 
 the public interests. 
 
 I had various other mortifications which none can 
 feel or know unless, placed in my situation. Some 
 times a member would perhaps revenge the disap 
 pointment of some object, .or the refusal of some fa 
 vour, by attacking my official conduct. At another 
 time the edi f or of a newspaper, to whom 1 had per 
 haps neglected to send an advertisement, would 
 lauuch a random charge, or a thundering witticism, 
 at my head, and though as an individual, his good 
 or bad report was of no sort of consequence, still 
 his fiat editorial consecrated the inspirations of ig 
 norance and folly. In short, I sometimes had the 
 pleasure of suspecting that nearly one half my 
 countrymen believed me to be a blockhead or a 
 rogue. To say the truth, had it not been for my 
 perpetual recurrence to the first principles of the 
 great Peleg, I should sometimes have suspected that 
 I deserved the latter distinction, for I confess I often 
 broke my promises, and passed over merit and ser 
 vices, in favour of political influence, which the Ho 
 nourable Peleg considered synonymous with politi 
 cal principle. 
 
 My domestic was still less satisfactory than my 
 public life. The morning was a regular, " never end 
 ing, still beginning" routine of vexatious toil, t
 
 THE POLITICIAN. 213 
 
 was condemned to listen to applications it was out of 
 my power to comply with ; to express regrets which 
 I did not feel ; and hold out expectations which I 
 knew would never be realized. I made abundance 
 of enemies, and gained no friends ; I was condemned 
 to meet ingratitude from those on whom I conferred, 
 and enmity from those to whom I refused benefits. 
 In short I was a slave to official duties, that brought 
 neither the rewards of a good conscience, nor re 
 muneration for the reproaches of a wounded one. 
 From my office, where I sat in my chair five or six 
 hours, without any exercise but that of a perplexed 
 and irritated mind, I dragged myself home, to dress 
 for a dinner at six o'clock, to put on silk stockings, 
 sit in a cold room three or four hours, eat enormous 
 ly, and get the rheumatism or dyspepsy. From 
 thence it was my hard fate to go to a party with Mrs. 
 Bashaba, who entered furiously into the dissipations 
 of the capital, now that the station of her husband 
 ensured her being handed in to supper by a foreign 
 minister, or in default, by an attache at least. During 
 the daytime that good lady was perpetually driving 
 through the solitudes of the streets, paying visits to 
 ladies of distinction, at taverns, or trundling to 
 Georgetown, to ravage the milliners' shops. In one 
 season, she disabled three pair of horses, and two 
 coachmen; one of whom became a cripple with 
 rheumatism, the other fell into a decline, with a cold 
 caught in driving her to a party five miles off, in a 
 -now storm.
 
 J14 THE POLITICIAN'. 
 
 But this was not the worst. Mrs. Bashaba caught 
 the spirit of the place, and commenced the business 
 of flirtation, with an attache, whose face resembled 
 that of a Newfoundland dog. He was the very perso 
 nification of whiskers, and was held to be very hand 
 some, for he marvellously resembled Peter the wild 
 boy. It was now that I thanked my stars, my wife 
 was not a beauty ; for if she had been, I should have 
 become jealous, and she would have lost her reputa 
 tion to a certainty. As it was, I considered the de- 
 voirs'of Peter the wild boy, a homage paid to my 
 official dignity, rather than to the attractions of Mrs. 
 Bashaba ; and as nobody envied the attache, there 
 was no motive for taking away her reputation. The 
 happy result of these happy coincidences, was, that 
 I escaped the green eyed monster, and Mrs. Bashaba 
 scandal. 
 
 As I believe none of the writers on natural histo 
 ry have described the race of whiskered animals, 
 called Attache, it may be well to apprize my readers, 
 that they constitute the tail of the corps diploma 
 tique. They are the shadows of the minister, who is 
 the shadow of his august master, and are, of course, 
 the shadows of a shadow. They must be able to 
 cut up a dish at the ambassador's table; cut a 
 figure among the ladies ; and cut a caper at balls. 
 It is their important duty to fill up cards of invita 
 tion ; answer notes not diplomatic ; run about and 
 pick up news ; get at every body's secrets and keep 
 their own ; compliment the young ladies ; talk scan-
 
 THE POLITICIAN. 
 
 dal with the old ones ; trumpet forth every donation 
 of the minister to charitable societies ; and put on their 
 embroidered coats on all proper occasions. Above 
 all they must understand etiquette, and sacrifice 
 the whole decalogue to a point of precedence. Four 
 or five years practice in these profound mysteries 
 qualifies them for Secretary of Legation. 
 
 The unlearned reader must be careful not to con 
 found etiquette with good breeding, such as is prac 
 tised among private persons. No two things can 
 be more different, nay, opposite to each other. 
 Among ordinary people, for example, when a stran 
 ger, entitled to notice and hospitality, comes into 
 the place, it is considered well bred, to call on him 
 first, and invite him to your house. Etiquette how 
 ever, prescribes a different course. The stranger 
 must call on the resident, indirectly solicit his no 
 tice, and thrust himself, or herself, on the hospitali 
 ties of the person of distinction. Among well bred 
 people, if two persons happen to be going into a 
 dining room together, there will be a little contest of 
 courtesy, not who shall eret in first, but who shall give 
 precedence to the other. Among people of etiquette 
 it is exactly the reverse. The point of honour con 
 sists in maintaining certain imaginary rights of go 
 ing first, if it be only at a funeral ; and a gentleman 
 or lady, who should 1 jse their proper place, would 
 not be able to sleep for a week, without an anodyne. 
 When I was a member of congress, I came very 
 near occasioning a long and bloody war, between
 
 "216 THE POLITICIAN. 
 
 the United States and a foreign nation, by insulting 
 the king of the country, in taking the hand of a lady 
 who happened to stand next me, to lead her into the 
 supper room. She had been assigned to the minis 
 ter, who immediately ordered his carriage, went 
 home without his supper, and penned a furious de 
 spatch to his government, which he sent off express, 
 by an Attache of three whiskers. The lady never 
 forgave my presumption. Had I been a senator, it 
 might have passed, but a member of the lower 
 House ! it was too bad. Thus it will be perceived 
 that etiquette is the antipodes to good breeding. The 
 former consists in asserting, the latter in waiving, our 
 
 pretensions to precedence and superiority on all oc- 
 
 . 
 casions. 
 
 It was curious to see the independent representa 
 tives of a free people, paying homage to the supe 
 riority of men they took every occasion to slight in 
 their public speeches, and complying with such do 
 cility with the mandates of Monsieur Etiquette. The 
 first thing they did on arriving at the seat of govern 
 ment, was to hire a hack, and drive furiously round 
 to all the givers of balls and dinners, to leave a card. 
 This entitled them to an invitation to all the balls 
 and dinners, provided they sent in their adhesion in 
 this manner, after every ball and dinner ; otherwise 
 they only got an invitation to one ball and dinner, 
 for these things were too good to be had without 
 asking. For my part, while I was a member, I re 
 fused this act of homage, which I then considered
 
 THE POLITICIAN. '-1' 
 
 somewhat degrading, though when I became one of 
 the privileged few, I confess I did not find it alto 
 gether so unreasonable. The consequence of my 
 refusal was, that I was cut by the whole corps diplo 
 matique, attaches and all; dined at home everyday 
 by myself, and escaped dyspepsy for that session at 
 least. 
 
 At parties where I saw the same faces, and heard 
 the same speeches for a whole session, ray great 
 amusement was to observe the various struggles of 
 all classes, to obtain that species of distinction which 
 is dependent not on ourselves, but other people. I could 
 always tell where the principal person, the lion of 
 rank, was stationed, by the tide which was tending 
 that way; and had I not known a single person in 
 the room, I could have pointed him or her out by 
 that infallible indication. Such struggles to get 
 near enough for a speech or smile, a nod, or a shake 
 of the hand ! Such looks of triumph when the little 
 ones got side by side with the great ; and such burst 
 ings of self-importance when they had the honour o'f 
 walking arm in arm, with one on the next step of the 
 ladder above them! Every body seemed to live in 
 the sunshine of reflected honour, and none appeared 
 to found their claims to respect or consideration, on 
 the basis of conscious worth, or intrinsic merit. I 
 have seen the most insignificant beings on earth, 
 without character or talents, acquire a temporar} 
 importance from the mere circumstance of having 
 by dint of a degrading perseverance acquired thf 
 19
 
 218 THE POLITICIAN. 
 
 privilege of being toad-eater to a person of distinc 
 tion. Nobody could eat their supper with an appe 
 tite at the lower end of the table ; and Mrs. Wel 
 come Bashaba ,always scolded the servants for a 
 fortnight, when she missed the glory of being hand 
 ed in and out by a qualified hand. 
 
 Such was the life I led year after year. By the 
 time summer came, I was completely run down, and 
 it took me all the rest of the year to wind myself up 
 again. If I went to the Springs, I was bored to 
 death by prosing politicians, giving their advice on 
 the conduct of public officers, or slily insinuating 
 claims to honour and office. If I visited a city where 
 there was no such nuisance as a seat of government, 
 for the purpose of relaxing a little in the midst of 
 its gaieties, there loo I was beset by wise men and 
 wise women, talking nothing but eternal politics, and 
 reminding me that at such a time they had made ap 
 plication for such an office, for sons, nephews, and 
 second cousins. If I returned to my poor little farm, 
 there it was ten times worse ; every soul, far and near, 
 came to ask for something, for they all had assisted 
 in my elevation ; and like poor Acteon, I was in dan 
 ger of being torn to pieces by my own hounds. I was 
 obliged to bow and smile, and play the courtier, 
 while my very soul was fretting itself to shreds and 
 tatters ; for it is among the horrors of greatness, in 
 a free country at least, that it must be bought and 
 maintained at the awful, incalculable price of being 
 civil to all mankind. Yet still, such is the fascina-
 
 THE POLITICIAN. 219 
 
 tion of power, I clung to the glorious mischief, 
 though it was gnawing at my vitals, and destroying 
 me by inches. I was indeed fast declining, and it is 
 my firm belief that a very few years would have 
 brought me to that great inn, where all mankind 
 take up their last night's lodging, had not my life 
 been saved by a lucky change in the great funda 
 mental political principle, on which the salvation of 
 unborn millions depended. 
 
 The people have hi all times been stigmatized 
 with unsteadiness and ingratitude. But to do them 
 justice, I believe this versatility is only the conse 
 quence of their perpetual disappointments. They 
 are promised great things from new rulers, which 
 promises are never realized, and by a natural con 
 sequence, they change from admiration to indiffer 
 ence, from indifference to contempt or disgust. But, 
 however this may be tempora mutanter times 
 change, men change, and principles change, if I am 
 to judge from my own experience. Even the great 
 Peleg, my mentor, underwent a metamorphosis. 
 For some time a silent revolution had been prepar 
 ing and maturing in the public mind, turning on 
 certain great mechanical principles, connected with 
 rail roads, canals, locks, breakwaters, and cotton 
 machinery. Political principles now seemed fast 
 verging into mechanical principles, and the ma 
 chinery of state to be almost entirely governed by 
 spinning jennies, weaver's beams, and topographi 
 cal surveys. The revolution of principle in my na-
 
 THE POLITICIAN. 
 
 tive state was brought about by a great mill dam ; 
 others turned on improving the navigation of rivers ; 
 others on the auction system ; others on coarse wool 
 lens ; and others on prohibiting the importation of 
 vermicelli ; all fundamental political principles, on 
 which the existence of the union and the salvation of 
 unborn millions depended. But the most extraordi 
 nary change of all, was that of a great state an impe- 
 riumin imperio whose fundamental principle turned 
 altogether on the question, whether freemasons took 
 their degrees on a red-hot gridiron or not. This 
 point divided the whole state, and threw the body 
 politic into convulsions. Committees were appoint 
 ed ; inquisitors authorized to worry and harass whole 
 communities ; and constitutional principles set at 
 nought in the discussion of the great fundamental 
 principle of the gridiron. But what most strikingly 
 proved the purity of the motives which governed 
 all these revolutionary bodies, in all their argu 
 ments, contentions, and struggles, the word interest 
 \vas never once uttered. Nothing but conscience 
 and principle was appealed to, notwithstanding it 
 was the opinion of many honest people, that an ap 
 peal to the conscience and principles of the oppo 
 site party was like the lady Rosalind swearing by 
 her beard. 
 
 Somewhere about this period, the Honourable 
 Peleg, who watched the weathercock of politics as 
 a valetudinarian does the wind, all at once changed 
 his principles, having, as he wrote me, discovered
 
 THE POLITICIAN. 221 
 
 that the great fundamental principle, on which de 
 pended the existence of the union and the salvation 
 of unborn millions, was not what he took it to be. 
 He brought over the Banner of Truth to his side, 
 by sending the worthy editor a present of the largest 
 pumpkin that ever grew in the state ; and the Ban 
 ner of Truth began forthwith to unsay all that it 
 had been saying for the last ten years. Never man 
 or woman either, unravelled an old stocking so dex- 
 trously, and in as short a time, as the editor of the 
 Banner of Truth unravelled and turned inside out 
 all the arguments he had urged in support of the 
 old great fundamental principle. To be prepared 
 for the worst, however, he got a coat made, one half 
 homespun, the other half Regent's cloth, with a 
 jacket one side civil, the other military, which he 
 wore as occasion required. 
 
 For my part, though I saw the storm coming, I 
 determined to remain firm to my principles, know 
 ing, as I did full well, that it was now too late to 
 change to any good purpose, for my successor was 
 already designated. The denouement of the great 
 farce now approached ; the whole country was con 
 vulsed in the newspapers. I went out, and an 
 other came in ; one great principle triumphed on 
 which depended the salvation of unborn millions ; 
 and another great principle on which the salva 
 tion of unborn millions, in the opinion of millions 
 of living persons, equally depended, went out of 
 fashion, at least for the time being. Will my read- 
 19*
 
 ' THE POLITICIAN. 
 
 esr believe it ? I left the seat of government, where 
 [ had lost my health, sacrificed my domestic habits, 
 and laboured like a galley-slave at the oar, only to be 
 rewarded with abuse and obloquy, from at least one 
 half of my countrymen ; I left it with a regret, which I 
 can only account for upon the principle that man is 
 born unto trouble, and that it is in his nature to de 
 light to fish in troubled waters. As the City of the De 
 sert passed away from my backward view, I could 
 not help reflecting, that I had peradventure been 
 all my life fighting shadows, for shadows ; and that 
 I was now returning to the starting place, with 
 nothing saved from the wreck of departed years, 
 but a fund of experience, which I was now almost 
 too old to turn to advantage. As the great copper 
 kettle turned upside down, which deforms one ol 
 the finest structures of the age, disappeared behind 
 the forests of the city, I cast a rueful glance at Mrs. 
 Bashaba, who sat at my side, and there met the 
 comfortable assurance, that my retirement from the 
 turmoils of public life was not destined to be follow 
 ed by the calm of domestic repose. 
 
 One of the great delights of the seat of govern 
 ment, is the necessity a great man labours under of 
 spending his salary in treating the gentlemen, who 
 are every day finding fault with his official conduct, 
 to sumptuous dinners. The simplicity of our repub 
 lican institutions requires that these dinners should 
 be as splendid as possible, and the wines of the most 
 rare and expensive kind. Without these indispeiv
 
 THE POLITICIAN, 223 
 
 sable requisites, it would be almost impossible to 
 carry a measure, or do any thing for the benefit of 
 posterity. Every public functionary is expected to 
 come to the seat of government and go away, as we 
 come and go out of this world, without bringing 
 any thing with him or taking any thing away. I re 
 member once giving a vast dinner to twenty or thirty 
 members, one of whom was particularly devoted 
 to the wines and viands, and consumed nearly a 
 day's salary. The next day he made a famous 
 speech on republican simplicity, which he concluded 
 by moving to reduce the enormous salaries of the 
 great public functionaries, whose splendid dinners, 
 and silver forks, he described with most edifying 
 abhorrence. But notwithstanding the French wines, 
 the French cookery, and the silver forks, I had 
 saved a few solitary thousands, with which I intend 
 ed to improve my little box at home, and cultivate 
 a small farm I had purchased to please one of my 
 constituents, who had considerable political influ 
 ence. 
 
 The first tinie I saw the Honourable Peleg after 
 my return, we had a hot argument on the question, 
 whether he or I had deserted the great principle. 
 It ended, as most political discussions do, in con 
 tention and recrimination. We parted the worst 
 friends in the world. My farm was now my only 
 resource. At first the perfect ease, quiet, and self- 
 command I enjoyed was intolerable. I became me 
 lancholy for want of something to trouble me, and
 
 '224 THE POLITICIAN. 
 
 had it not been for Mrs. Bashaba, should have 
 perished for lack of contradiction. But fate seemed 
 determined to persecute me with a life of perfect 
 ease. I lost Mrs. Bashaba a few months after my 
 retirement. The whiskered Attache passed our door 
 without stopping, on his way to Boston, and she 
 never held up her head afterwards. Casting about 
 for something to do, it all at once occurred to me, 
 that I would call the Honourable Peleg to a reck 
 oning on the score of his. guardianship. I had the 
 cruelty to put him in chancery ; but I shared with 
 him the penalty -of this unchristian act. I had now 
 enough to occupy my mind, and vex my very soul ; 
 and I here record it as my firm opinion, that to be 
 in chancery is worse than to be the head of a de 
 partment. I several times saw the end of my suit, 
 but it was like a view of those high, snowy, per 
 pendicular summits we behold on approaching 
 the Andes, which the eye sees and the imagination 
 contemplates, but which are inaccessible to mortal 
 tread. When I began the suit, 1 was possessed of 
 three very good things ; 1 had money, patience, and 
 at great veneration for equity. Before my suit was 
 ended, I had neither one nor the other. But time 
 does wonders ; it can even bring a suit in chancery 
 to an end ; and at length 1 got a decision in my 
 ' favour for a few thousands. But the Honourable 
 Peleg was prepared for me ; he had assigned all his 
 property to a bank ; the bank had hypothecated it 
 to an insurance company; the insurance company
 
 THE rOlITICIAN. 225 
 
 had failed ; the officers, directors, &c., had divided 
 the spoil, and I might as well have looked for an 
 honest man among them as for my property. Yet, 
 strange to say, the Honourable Peleg, by sticking 
 close to the great political principle, still managed 
 to preserve the confidence of the people. He had 
 never held a public office where he was intrusted 
 with the public money, without being a defaulter ; 
 he had never been charged with the care of another's 
 property without there being a deficiency in the 
 end ; and he had never been president of a bank 
 that did not break and defraud the community. 
 Yet still his political principles were sound, though 
 his moral principles were rotten ; and he was at 
 length selected by the legislature to prepare a code 
 of criminal jurisprudence for the state, upon the 
 ground, I presume, that you set a thief to catch a 
 thief, and that no man can be better qualified to 
 make laws, than he who has been long in the habit 
 of breaking them. 
 
 There is a certain homely unobtrusive philosophy 
 which makes very little figure in the works of Bo- 
 lingbroke, Boethius, or any other unfortunate 
 statesman. It may be called philosophy perforce, 
 and is worth all other systems put together. I mean 
 the capacity of the human mind to accommodate it 
 self to inevitable circumstances ; to endure what 
 cannot be cured, and to make the best of a bad bar 
 gain. This was now my consolation. I had gradu 
 ally lost all hope of again coming forward in politi-
 
 226 THE POLITICIAN. 
 
 cal life ; for the moment one man steps out of the 
 shoes, another stands ready to step into them. If we 
 stop a moment in the great path, along which the 
 whole human race is pressing forward, we shall be 
 left behind, and can never again overtake the flood 
 that rolls on to success or ruin. By degrees, as this 
 conviction familiarized itself to my thoughts, I turned 
 from the past to the present, and gradually yielded 
 to the philosophy of necessity. I felt that my peace 
 of mind, my health, my subsistence, depended upon 
 exertion, and I began to exert myself. It was at first 
 loathsome and disagreeable for a man who had as 
 sisted in swaying the destinies of an empire, to assist 
 a labourer in planting pumpkins. But I remember 
 ed that Dioclesian planted cabbages ; that Joseph 
 the second was a great maker of red sealing wax ; 
 that Do4 Carlos of Naples employed his time in shoot 
 ing rabbits, and Don Ferdinand of Spain in em 
 broidering satin petticoats above all, I remember 
 ed the example of the great and perfect model of 
 Riders, and his virtuous successors, who, one after 
 another retired from the cares of state, to cultivate 
 their farms ; to give an example to the world, and 
 hear themselves every day blessed from afar off, by 
 the voices of millions. 
 
 I have now passed almost twenty years in my 
 humble retirement. The world has forgotten me, 
 and I am content to be forgotten. I can now look 
 calmly upon both worlds, that which I am leaving 
 behind, and that to which I am rapidly advancing.
 
 THE POLITICIAN. 227 
 
 The last spark of vanity expired in writing my his 
 tory, that I might peradventure be remembered a 
 little after I am gone. But to do myself justice, I 
 had other and higher motives. 
 
 I have long seen, with fearful and melancholy an 
 ticipations, the vast, and disproportioned space that 
 politics and party feelings occupy in the lives of my 
 fellow-citizens, to the exclusion of other, and let me 
 add, nobler pursuits. I have seen the country 
 thrown into a ferment; the charities of Hie, and the 
 bonds of benevolence, the obligations of truth, and 
 the ties of justice, all rent as burnt flax, and scatter 
 ed to the winds as nothing an offering on the altar 
 of political strife. I have seen the most frivolous 
 objects, and the most contemptible offices, assuming 
 a vast and fallacious magnitude, and exciting the 
 most violent outrageous struggle for their attain 
 ment, as if the parties were contending for the em 
 pire of the world. In short, I have seen, as I think, 
 the finger of time pointing to that period, not far 
 distant I fear, when the choice of a chief magistrate 
 will be considered an object of greater moment, than 
 the precepts of morality, the obligations of religion, 
 or the preservation of our liberties. It cannot be 
 disguised that the spark which lights these political 
 conflagrations is struck out by the violent collision of 
 office-holders and office-seekers ; and I am aware 
 that the experience of others weighs little with us in 
 balancing our own conduct and regulating our pur 
 suits. Still, perhaps a plain narrative of the unsa-
 
 228 THE POLITICIAN. 
 
 tisfactory results of so many sacrifices of moral prin 
 ciples, may serve to mitigate at least the violence of 
 those contests, which end at length in a momentary 
 triumph, followed by a lasting defeat. Men may 
 learn from my example, how mistaken is the idea, 
 that the possession of power leads to independence, 
 or enables them to pursue their own will. If there 
 is any station in life in which we can do as we please, 
 it will be found much nearer the extreme of the beg 
 gar, than that of the king. 
 
 All the honourable pursuits of life are salutary, 
 provided they are not sought with too great avidity, 
 and at the price of integrity and happiness. It is 
 moreover the bounden duty of every citizen to take a 
 strong interest in the conduct of public affairs, and the 
 prosperity of his country. But even patriotism as 
 well as religion has its limits, beyond which both be 
 come fanaticism. He who sacrifices those princi 
 ples of honour, justice, charity, and truth, which are 
 essential to the happiness of mankind here as well 
 as hereafter, which never change, and in which all 
 agree, to a political principle, which is ever varying, 
 and about which all mankind differ, must in the end 
 become a most mischievous and pernicious citizen. 
 Lastly ; I have preferred to make my drama a farce 
 rather than a tragedy. I pretend not to any other 
 authority than that of experience ; but I have seen 
 enough of the world, and of the people of the world, 
 to know by experience, that beautiful as wisdom is, 
 if she would only sometimes condescend to smilf. 
 she would be irresistible.
 
 THE DUMB GIRL. 

 

 
 THE DUMB GIRL. 
 
 Speak thou fair words, I'll answer with my eyes ; 
 Send thou sweet looks, I'll meet them with sweet looks ; 
 Tell me thy sorrows, I'll reply with tears ; 
 Thy joys, I'll sympathize with dallying- smiles ; 
 Thy love, and still I'll answer with mine eyes, 
 Using my lips only to kiss thee, love. 
 
 SOME thirty years ago there resided on a little 
 corner of a farm belonging to my uncle, an aged 
 man of the name of Angevine, an " old continen 
 tal," as he was called in the language of the times. 
 He had returned very poor, after having served 
 during the whole war, and bravely too, if his own 
 word might be taken for it, and was permitted by my 
 uncle to occupy a small tenement with a garden, on 
 a remote angle of his estate, rent free. Angevine 
 was a brave soldier, but rather an idle man. His 
 delight was to talk of the revolutionary war ; and 
 who has a better right to talk, than a man who has 
 lent a hand in giving liberty to his country ? 1 have 
 known Angevine stop on his way to mill, with a 
 bushel of corn on his shoulder, and talk a full hour 
 about the revolutionary war, without ever thinking 
 of putting down his bag. What was his origin I
 
 232 TIIE DUMB GIRL. 
 
 know not, it was probably French ; but I remember 
 whenever he got offended with my good uncle, who 
 in truth was of the family of Melchesideck he 
 used to be somewhat scurrilous on the subject of 
 ancestry. He held it as a maxim that a soldier was 
 always a gentleman ; and his conduct verified his 
 maxim, for he never worked when he could help it. 
 and passed most of his time hi telling stories of the 
 revolutionary war. His revenue was his good spirits, 
 which generally made him a welcome intruder in all 
 the neighbouring houses ; and when they failed in 
 that, served to reconcile him to his disappointment. 
 I believe he was never serious except when he read 
 his Bible, which he did every day. He would walk 
 fifteen miles to a training, for fun ; got his head fre 
 quently broken, in fun ; was run over by a wagon, in 
 fun ; was pitched down a high, bank, in wrestling, 
 for fun ; had his hip put out of joint and once 
 was put into jail, in fun. In short, it was said of 
 him that he talked more and worked less than any 
 man in the county ; his maxim being that all the 
 good people worked for him, and it ran against his 
 conscience to work for the wicked. He died as he 
 lived, in fun ; giving his pipe to one, his tobacco 
 box to another, his odd knee buckles to a third ; and 
 bequeathing his testament, which he knew by heart, 
 to my uncle, in payment of his rent. He was a libel 
 on all who possess the means of being happy, yet 
 are wretched ; for he enjoyed more pleasure, and 
 created more mirth, than any man I ever knew, at
 
 THE DUMB GIRL. 233 
 
 the very time that in the opinion of all reflecting 
 persons, he ought to have been miserable. In truth 
 he had enough to make him so, besides poverty. 
 He had but two children, a girl and a boy ; the 
 former was dumb, and the latter an idiot. 
 
 At the time of the old man's death, Ellee, as he 
 was called it was a contraction of some name I 
 have forgot was about fourteen, his sister Phoebe, 
 about sixteen years of age. The poor boy had a 
 heart, though he had no head ; his affections were 
 singularly strong ; his reason but a little beyond 
 instinct. He loved his mother because she fed and 
 clothed him ; he loved his sister, for she was his com 
 panion, and he seemed to have a full perception that 
 she laboured under some privation, which resembled 
 his own ; yet was not exactly the same. In all 
 times of danger, suffering, insult, or injury, he flew 
 to his sister for refuge, and she in time became a 
 young lioness in his defence. The boy was quite 
 tractable, and could do many little things, such as 
 bringing water, going of errands to the neighbours, 
 who understood his dumb show, and weeding the 
 garden ; until one day, whether in mischief, or from 
 not knowing better, he plucked up a bed of radishes 
 for weeds. He had a singular, wild note, which he 
 sometimes uttered when in violent agitation, which 
 was not unlike the low, distant whoop of the owl, 
 thougl 4 somewhat more plaintive. His chief delight 
 was to go every where with his sister. 
 
 Phoebe was not born dumb, but lost her speech 
 20*
 
 -J34 THE DUMB GIRL. 
 
 about the age of fourteen, as was supposed at the 
 time by a shock of lightning, which paralyzed the 
 organs of speech without affecting her hearing. 
 Before this happened, she had learned to read and 
 write, and her mind had been considerably im 
 proved at a school hard by, whither old Angevine 
 had sent her at his own cost, as he boasted ; though 
 truth obliges me to confess he never paid a shilling 
 for her schooling. At the same time, he scouted 
 the offers which were made to bring up his children 
 at the expense of the town. When Phoebe lost her 
 speech in this unaccountable and melancholy way, 
 it was affecting to see her impatience at first, her 
 succeeding despair, and the steps by which by de 
 grees she regained her spirits and resumed her useful 
 occupations. Ellee exhibited indications of a vague, 
 indefinite wonder and anxiety at first ; but in a few 
 days all traces of these wore away, and he seemed un 
 conscious that his sister had undergone any change. 
 Her mother, an honest, careful, industrious woman, 
 took it sadly to heart ; but after a time, the only effect 
 it was observed to have upon the good woman was that 
 she talked twice as much as ever, I suppose to make 
 up for the silence of Phoebe. Angevine took to 
 his Bible for days and weeks afterwards. Indeed I 
 believe he never fairly recovered the shock, although 
 the force of habit and constitution still caused him 
 to exhibit the usual indications of hilarity. lie died 
 about two years after the accident.
 
 THE DUMB GIRL. 235 
 
 At sixteen, Phoebe Angevine was the prettiest 
 girl in all the surrounding country, as well as the 
 most industrious. Indeed it was observed that Ellee 
 was better dressed, the garden in finer order, and 
 every thing about the house more tidy and comfort 
 able, since the death of the ' old continental.' The 
 overseers of the poor offered to take charge of poor 
 Ellee; but both mother and daughter declared that 
 so long as they could maintain him, he should 
 never be a burthen to others. This was before the 
 poor were coaxed to become paupers, and lured into 
 idleness and unthrift, by the mistaken benevolence of 
 morbid sensibility. I thought it necessary to pre 
 mise this, in order to render the anecdote credible. 
 I don't remember ever to have seen exactly such a 
 face and figure as those of Phoebe. Her hair was 
 amazingly long, luxuriant, and silky ; of a dark 
 brown colour, to match her eyes ; and what is very 
 rare with our country girls, out of New England, 
 her skin was excessively white ; but her face was all 
 lily ; there was not the slighest tinge of the rose, 
 eicept when the impulse of her heart drove the 
 blood into her cheeks. It is impossible to give any 
 idea of her features and expression ; the former 
 were rather sharp than oval, and the latter displayed 
 the character and impress of most intense passion, or 
 sensibility, or both. Never woman could better 
 afford to lose her tongue, for every feature of her 
 face supplied its place. The two poles are not 
 more distant than was the contrast between thr
 
 236 THE DUMB GIHL. 
 
 lowly, subdued, and dewy eye with which she 
 curtsied to my good old uncle, and the flashing 
 intensity of its rage, when any one played tricks 
 upon the simplicity of her brother, or laughed at his 
 infirmity; her eyes then did the errand of her 
 tongue, and their language was terrible. Every 
 body wondered how she always kept herself so neat, 
 for she was neatness itself. It was partly innate delica 
 cy, and partly personal vanity. It was impossible to 
 see Phoebe, without discovering at once that she 
 knew she was handsome, and that this was seldom 
 absent from her thoughts. She never passed a 
 looking-glass without casting a glance ; and doubt 
 less many are the crystal mirrors of the neighbour 
 hood that could murmur of her beauties, from the 
 frequent opportunities she afforded them for contem 
 plation. There was some excuse for her, since, 
 independently of the singular charms of her fate, 
 her person was very remarkable. It had no pre 
 tensions to resembling that of a fashionable lady, 
 for in my opinion she never wore corsets in her life ; 
 but it possessed that singular trimness and natural 
 grace, which the connoiseur will not fail to discover 
 and admire in an Indian warrior, fresh from the 
 hand of nature. It was as much superior to the 
 caricatures fabricated by fashionable milliners, as 
 the virgin Miranda was to the monster Caliban. 
 
 Phoebe was fond of dress ; it was her foible, nay 
 her fault ; for it was the mischievous minister to a 
 vanity already become one of the master passions of
 
 THE DUMB GIRL. 237 
 
 her bosom. At church she was always the beauty, 
 and the best dressed of all the country pirls ; and he 
 knows little of a country church that does not know 
 how many hearts throb with envy, how many tongues 
 overflow with gall, when the owners are outdressed 
 and outshone by one they consider beneath them. 
 These sometimes rudely assailed her with sneers and 
 inuendoes. Phoebe could not answer but with a 
 look that no eye that ever I have seen but hers 
 could give. The poor girl indeed was sadly envied 
 and hated by the young females of her acquaintance, 
 because she was not only handsomer and better 
 dressed, but on account of her triumphs over the 
 rustic beaus, and the speaking, taunting glance of 
 her eye, when she carried off the schoolmaster or 
 heard some stranger ask who was that neat, pretty 
 girl. Then her ear drank the delicious sounds, and 
 almost made amends for the loss of the power of 
 answering but with her eyes. Phoebe was indeed 
 the belle of all the neighbourhood a dangerous 
 pre-eminence! for her poverty, her idiot brother, 
 and her own misfortune, were so many bars to any 
 thing beyond the gratification of a passing hour. 
 She had many admirers ; but none that passed the 
 usual bounds of rustic gallantry, none that sought 
 her for a wife. All they did was to administer to 
 her dangerous vanity, and awaken thoughts and 
 anticipations dangerous to her future peace of mind. 
 I went to school with Phoebe, during a period of 
 three or four years that I sojourned with my good
 
 ' THE DUMB GIUL. 
 
 uncle. The schoolmaster was a gallant old bachelor, 
 whose house and barn had been burned by the 
 British, during the revolutionary war. Having 
 petitioned congress seventeen years in succession, 
 and cost the nation ten times the amount of his 
 losses in speeches, he at last got out of patience 
 and out of bread, and turned to the useful as well 
 as honourable office of teaching the young idea how 
 to shoot. He was a lazy, easy-tempered man, 
 grievously inclined to gallantry, and novels, in the 
 purchase of which he spent much of his superfluities. 
 These he lent to the young girls of the country 
 round, and scarcely ever visited one of them without a 
 love tale in his pocket, to make him welcome. I cannot 
 say whether these useful works had any thing to do 
 with the matter, but certain it is, there were a num 
 ber of odd accidents happened to the young damsels 
 of the neighbourhood about this time. The prettiest 
 girl in the school was always the greatest favourite, 
 and the prettiest girl was Phoebe, who always had 
 the first reading of his novels. I recollect perfectly 
 that such was her appetite for these high-seasoned 
 dishes, that she would read them in walking home 
 from school, and often came near being run over in 
 the road, so completely was she occupied with the dan 
 gers of some lone lover or imprisoned heroine. When 
 she lost her speech, of course she quitted school; 
 but the gallant teacher still continued to visit, and 
 bring her the newest novels. These indeed did not 
 make their appearance so frequently at that time as
 
 THE DUMB GIRL. 239 
 
 they do now, when, I am credibly informed, young 
 ladies take a new novel every Sunday to church, to 
 read during the sermon. Poor Ellee used to be 
 sometimes out of all patience with his sister, for sit 
 ting thus whole hours without taking notice of him, 
 and once threw a whole set of Pamela into the fire, to 
 the irreparable loss of poor Phoebe and the school 
 master. 
 
 At the age of eighteen, Phoebe had many ad 
 mirers besides the schoolmaster ; her beauty attracted 
 the young men, but the misfortunes of herself and 
 family restrained them within the bounds of idle 
 admiration and homely gallantry. But even if this 
 had not been the case, Phoebe was too well read in 
 novels, to relish the devoirs of these rustical and 
 barbarous Corydons. Thus she grew up in the 
 beauty of finished womanhood, her imagination 
 inflated with unreal pictures, and her passions sti 
 mulated by overwrought scenes of sentiment or 
 sensuality, for it is difficult to draw the line now. 
 
 About this time, the only son of a neighbouring 
 squire whose wealth outwent the modest means of 
 all his neighbours, not excepting my worthy uncle, 
 and was moreover enhanced by his official dignity, 
 returned home, like the prodigal son of holy writ, 
 poor and penitent. He had in early youth been 
 smitten with the romantic dangers of the seas, and, 
 being restrained in his inclinations by his parents, 
 especially his mother, had run away. He had been 
 absent six years without ever being heard of, and
 
 240 TUB DUMB GIRL. 
 
 the disconsolate parents long mourned him as dead. 
 His return was therefore hailed with tears of joy and 
 welcome : the father fell on his neck and wept ; 
 the mother first scolded him for running away, and 
 then kissed him, till he was ready to run away again. 
 All was joy, welcome, and curiosity ; and for several 
 days the prodigal had nothing to do but relate his 
 adventures. He had been to the Northwest Coast, 
 to the West Indies, and to the East ; he had har 
 pooned whales in the Frozen Ocean, and caught 
 seals in the South Sea ; he had been shipwrecked 
 on the coast of Patagonia, where he saw giants 
 eight feet high ; and stranded on the coast of Lab 
 rador, where he dined on raw fish, with pigmies of 
 not more than three ; he had gone overboard with 
 a broken yard, and was taken up ten days after 
 perfectly well, having lived all the while on rope- 
 yarns and canvass ; and he was carried down to the 
 bottom in six fathoms, by the anchor, and could tell 
 better than the gentlemen who have lately taken up 
 the biographies of dead men come to life, exactly 
 how a man felt when he was drowned. In short, he 
 had seen the Peak of Teneriffe ; Mount JEtna in an 
 eruption ; the Bay of Biscay in a storm ; and the 
 sea serpent off Nahant. Of all the heroes in a coun 
 try circle, the greatest is he who can tell the most 
 stories of wonders of his own creation. Accord 
 ingly our hero, for such he is, was the lion ol 
 the day, the wonder of the men, and the admiration 
 of the ladies, old and young. One day, after our
 
 THE DUMB GIRL. 241 
 
 Sindbad had been telling of the wonders he had 
 seen, and the perils he had encountered, the old 
 squire suddenly asked, 
 
 " But have you brought home any money, Wal 
 ter?" 
 
 " Not a sous, sir." 
 
 " Hum !" quoth the squire. 
 
 The first Sunday after his arrival, our hero went to 
 church, whither the fame of his adventures had already 
 preceded him. Every body looked at him during 
 the whole sermon. The old people observed how 
 much he had grown since he was a boy ; the young 
 ladies thought him very handsome ; and the young 
 fellows all envied him to a man. Walter in his 
 turn looked about, with the air of a man unconscious 
 of the notice he excited, and after making the cir 
 cuit of the church with his eyes, at length rested 
 them in evident admiration on Phoebe Angevine, 
 who was that day dressed in her best style, and 
 looked as neat as a new pin. Phoebe blushed up 
 to the eyes, and her proud heart swelled in her bo 
 som. She continued to steal occasional looks at 
 him, and always found his eyes fixed upon her, not 
 insolently, but with an air of entreaty to be forgiven 
 the liberty they were taking. Poor Ellee had come 
 that day to church with her, and for the first timp 
 perhaps in her life she felt ashamed of him, and 
 wished him away, although he always behaved him 
 self bettert han some people who think themselves 
 very wise. 
 
 21
 
 242 THE DUMB GIRL. 
 
 It was the custom of the country at the time 1 
 speak of, and I believe is so still, for the congrega 
 tion to remain during the interval between the two 
 services, most of them living too far off to go home 
 and return again in time. This interval is usually 
 spent by the good pastor, in making kind inquiries 
 about the health and prosperity of the good people; 
 by the old men, in talking of their crops and their 
 prospects ; by the old gossips, in talking scandal ; 
 and by the young folks, in strolling about under the 
 trees, or rambling through the church yard, reading 
 the epitaphs, and looking unutterable things. It is 
 here, amidst the records and memorials of mortality, 
 the precepts of religion, and the mouldering remains 
 of the departed, that human passions, even among 
 the best of us, still will exercise their irrepressible 
 influence. Vanity contemplates her Sunday suit with 
 glances of glowing admiration ; Love nourishes 
 his idle dreams ; Revenge studies modes of gratifi 
 cation ; and Avarice plans schemes requiring years 
 to realize, in the midst of a thousand breathless 
 whispers, that remind him of the woful uncertainty 
 of life that say to the aged, Your time is but a span ; 
 to the young children, There are shorter graves than 
 thine in the church yard, and smaller skulls in Gol 
 gotha. 
 
 During these various occupations and amuse 
 ments of the simple folks, Phoebe was strolling 
 about among the rest, with the gallant schoolmas 
 ter, and Ellee, of whom she felt more ashamed every
 
 THE DUMB GIRL. 
 
 243 
 
 Moment ; for she could not help observing, that is, 
 she could not help every now and then casting a sly 
 glance at our hero, and seeing that he was al 
 ways following her with his eyes. She wished poor 
 Ellee at home, and the schoolmaster in his school 
 teaching A, B, C. 
 
 " Well, what do you think of young Mr. Avery ?" 
 asked the schoolmaster ; " I don't admire him much 
 for my part." 
 
 "Nor I," said Phoebe, blushing to the eyes, 
 with that instinctive spirit of deception, which marks 
 the beginning, middle, end no, not the end of 
 love in the female bosom. There is not a greater 
 hypocrite in the world than a young and bashful 
 girl, learning the first rudiments of affection. 
 
 " Who is that beautiful girl, in the white muslin 
 gown ?" asked our hero of a covey of rural belles, 
 with whom he had become acquainted ; " she seems 
 very bashful, for I have not seen her open her 
 mouth." 
 
 The young damsels began to giggle, and titter, 
 and exchange significant looks, which excited the 
 curiosity of Walter to ask an explanation. 
 
 " She's dumb-," at length said one, with another 
 suppressed giggle, in which the others joined. They 
 were by no means ill-natured girls, but 1 know not 
 how it was, they did not like the curiosity of our 
 hero. Women can't bear curiosity in others, ex 
 cept it relates to their own particular affairs.
 
 THE DUMB GIKL. 
 
 "Dumb!" said Walter; "poor girl." Dumb, 
 thought he, a few minutes afterwards ; so much the 
 better ; and sinking into thought, he asked no more 
 questions. 
 
 The good Mrs. Angevine staid from church that 
 aabbath, on account of a rheumatism. When Phoebe 
 came home, she asked her, according to custom, 
 where the text was, bidding her seek it out in the 
 Bible. Phoebe shook her head, and looked con 
 fused. 
 
 " What ! you've forgot, you naughty girl ?" 
 
 Phoebe nodded. 
 
 ".I dare say you were asleep," said the mother. 
 
 Phoebe shook her head again. 
 
 " Then I dare say you were gaping at the young 
 fellows," said the mother, angrily. 
 
 Phoebe shook her head more emphatically, and 
 with a look of indignation. There was too much 
 truth in this last supposition. 
 
 " Well, well," quoth the mother, " I'm sure some 
 thing is going to happen, for you never forgot the 
 text before." 
 
 Dreams, clouds, gipseys, and ghosts, are all pro 
 phetic now-a-days, at least in fashionable novels; 
 and why may not this remark of the good woman 
 have been prophetic too ? Certain it is, that something 
 did happen before long. 
 
 It was two or three days after this memorable pre 
 diction, that young Walter Avery, being out shoot 
 ing, and finding himself thirsty, stopped at the house
 
 THE DUMB GIRL. 245 
 
 of the widow Angevine for a drink of water. The 
 good dame asked him in to rest himself, which invi 
 tation he accepted, and staid almost an hour, during 
 which time he talked to the mother, and looked at 
 the daughter. In going away, he shook poor Ellee 
 by the hand, as an excuse for doing the same to 
 Phoebe, which he did with a certain lingering, gen 
 tle, yet emphatic pressure, that made her blood come 
 and go on errands from her heart to her face. 
 Phoebe thought of this gentle pressure, with throb 
 bing pulses, and poor Ellee was as proud as a pea 
 cock at shaking hands with such a smart young gen 
 tleman. 
 
 From this time no one ever came to the house 
 without being obliged to shake hands with him half 
 a dozen times. With that strange sagacity and quick 
 ness of observation which frequently accompanies 
 the absence of reason, he had marked the expres 
 sion of Phoebe's face, when Walter Avery looked 
 at and took her hand ; and he made her blush often 
 afterwards by his grotesque imitation of his manner. 
 " Stop in again when you come this way," cried the 
 old dame, highly pleased with his particular notice 
 of every thing she said. Walter was highly flatter 
 ed, and assured her he would come that way often. 
 At parting, he gave Phoebe a look that kept her 
 awake half that night. 
 
 " Didn't I say something was going to happen 
 last Sunday, when you forgot the text ?" said Mrs. 
 Angevine. Phoebe was watching to see if Walter 
 21*
 
 THE DUMB GIRL. 
 
 turned to look back as he wound round an angle of 
 the road, and took no notice of what the good wo 
 man said ; so she continued talking on to herself, 
 for want of somebody else to listen. 
 
 " Something has happened," thought Phoebe, 
 -,vith a sigh, as Walter in turning the angle kissed 
 his hand to her, and disappeared. The rest of the 
 day she was so idle that her mother scolded her 
 roundly. The inertness of new-born passion was 
 gradually crawling over her, and she more than 
 ever regretted the destruction of Pamela, by the sa 
 crilegious hand of Ellee. From this time Walter 
 was out every day shooting, and what the old wo 
 man thought rather singular, he always grew thirsty 
 about the time of passing her door. "It is worth 
 while to go a mile out of the way to get a drink of 
 such wdter," would he say, though it tasted a little 
 of iron, and was not the coolest in the world. While 
 the mother was attending to household affairs, Walter 
 talked to Phoebe, and she answered him with her eyes. 
 But as there are certain little promises and engage 
 ments, requiring more specific replies than even the 
 brightest eyes can give, he one day made her a pre 
 sent of a silver pencil and pocket-book, in which she 
 sometimes made her responses in writing. Many 
 opportunities occurred for nourishing the growing 
 passion of the poor girl, notwithstanding the perpe 
 tual intrusions of Ellee, who had taken a great fancy 
 to Walter ever since he gave him the friendly 
 =hake of the hand, which went directly to his heart :
 
 THE DUMB GIUL. 247 
 
 he seldom received such an attention except from 
 my kind-hearted old uncle. After this, he never 
 met Walter without going up, making a strange, 
 grotesque bow, and shaking him by the hand most 
 emphatically. Walter sometimes wished him in the 
 Red sea, for he interfered with his designs, and un 
 knowingly often proved the guardian genius of his 
 sister. If they sometimes stole a march upon him, 
 and wandered along the little river Byram, which 
 skirted the foot of the neighbouring hills, it was sel 
 dom but Ellee found them out, with the instinct of 
 a pointer ; when he would comt running up, with a 
 chuckling laugh at his cleverness, and give master 
 Walter a cordial shake of the hand. Yet still they 
 had their moments of solitude and silence, such as 
 innocent lovers cherish as the brightest of their 
 lives, and deceivers seize upon for the attainment of 
 their objects. In the wicked twilight of the quiet 
 woods, the purest heart sometimes swells with the 
 boiling eddies of a youthful fancy; and it is there 
 that the purest person is won to the permission of 
 little freedoms and progressive endearments, which, 
 if not checked in time, are only atoned for by the 
 tears of a whole life. Phoebe became gradually 
 absorbed in the all-devouring passion. She could 
 not relieve her heart and express her feelings in 
 speech, and thus they preyed upon her almost to 
 suffocation. There is no reason to doubt her en 
 tire conviction that Walter intended her marriage, 
 for he had told her so a thousand times.
 
 248 THE DUMB GIHL. 
 
 Rumour, which like echo loves to abide among' 
 the rocks and dells, where she delights to blow her 
 horn, the signal of awakening to a thousand blab 
 bing tongues rumours and scandals now began to 
 circulate among the neighbours, all to the disadvan 
 tage of Phoebe. It was nonsense to suppose Walter 
 intended to marry a dumb girl, and one so poor as 
 her. His father was the richest man in the county, 
 and he was the only son. It was impossible. 
 
 " Nobody can believe it, in their right senses,'' 
 cried Mrs. Toosy. 
 
 " The girl must be a fool !" cried Mrs. Ratsbane, 
 "or something worse." 
 
 " I thought what would come of her fine clothes 
 and foolish books," cried Mrs. Dolan. 
 
 " And then the silver pencil," cried Mrs. Nolan. 
 
 " And the morocco pocket-book people don't 
 give these things for nothing," cried Mrs. Dol- 
 Unger. 
 
 " The mother must be mad to think of such a 
 thing," cried Mrs. Fadladdle. 
 
 " The girl is no better than she should be," cried 
 Mrs. Doorise. 
 
 " She is certainly a good for nothing cretur,'' 
 cried Mrs. Cackle. 
 
 " Lord have mercy upon us ! what is this world 
 coming to?" cried Mrs. Skimpey, with upturned 
 eyes, " it puts me in mind of I don't know what." 
 
 " Heigho !" cried Mrs. Fubsy, taking a pinch of
 
 THE DUMB GIRL. 249 
 
 suull', with a deep sigh, "it puts me in mind of 
 Joseph in Egypt." 
 
 " Well, after all, let as hope for the best," cried 
 Mrs. Daisy. 
 
 " Amen !" answered they all, and thereupon the 
 tea-party broke up, at five o'clock in the afternoon. 
 Women are in fact ill-natured toads, especially to 
 wards each other, but they make it up in kindness 
 to us bachelors. There is good reason why they 
 should be intolerant to certain transgressions of the 
 sex. Vice thrives apace where it carries with it no 
 other penalty but that denounced by the laws. It 
 is the inquest, the censure, the terrible verdict of the 
 society in which we live and move and have our very 
 being, that constitutes the severest punishment ; and 
 it behooves women to be inflexible in visiting sins, 
 that if they were to become common, would de 
 grade them from divinities into slaves from the 
 chosen companions of man to the abject minis 
 ters of his pleasures. As yet, however, the censures 
 of our tea-party were premature. Phoebe was in 
 nocent, though on the brink of a precipice. 
 
 At length Mrs. Ratsbane thought it her duty, as 
 a neighbour and a Christian, to open the whole 
 matter to the mother of our hero, who forthwith re 
 ported it to the Squire. Not that she thought or 
 meant he should take any steps in the affair ; 
 she was a remarkable, a very remarkable wo 
 man, such a woman as we doubt if the world ever 
 produced before or ever will again ; for it was her
 
 250 THE DUMB GIRL. 
 
 maxim, that as women could have no wills when 
 they died, it was but fair they should have their wills 
 all the rest of their lives. Never woman stuck 
 closer to her favourite maxim, as the Justice, were 
 he living, could testify. The name of this puissant 
 justice was H^zekiah Lord Avery, but his neigh 
 bours usually called him Lord Avery, a name which 
 I shall adopt in order to give dignity to my story. 
 It is very seldom one gets so good an opportunity of 
 ennobling one's pages. His lordship was a silent 
 man in the presence of his wife, but a great talker 
 every where else, especially when sitting as a magis 
 trate, at which times he would never suffer any 
 body to speak a word but himself; for such was his 
 astonishing sagacity that he always knew What a 
 client was going to say before he opened his mouth. 
 The only man that ever got the better of him, was a 
 little pestilent lawyer of the township, who once spoke 
 eight hours on a point of law, which, though it had 
 nothing to do with the case, involved a great prin 
 ciple ; whereupon the people sent him to Congress. 
 Lord Avery was a man of great substance ; partly 
 derived from his father, and partly of his own acqui 
 sition ; for he was what is called a lucky man. If 
 there happened a drought all over the country that 
 raised the price of wheat, Lord Avery was sure to 
 have a redundant harvest ; if apples were scarce, his 
 orchards groaned with their product ; if he sold any 
 thing it was sure to fall in price, and if he bought 
 it was as certain to rise. In short, he was the Midas
 
 THE DUMB GIRL. 251 
 
 of modern times, and even his blunders turned to 
 gold. He had a neighbour his exact opposite ; a 
 sensible, calculating man, who was always giving 
 his advice to his lordship, but without effect. This 
 worthy but unfortunate man never undertook any 
 thing without the most^mature deliberation and con 
 sulting every body. One year, observing all his 
 neighbours were planting a more than usual quan 
 tity of corn, he sagely concluded that there would 
 be a glut in the market, and planted great fields of 
 potatoes. About harvest time the news of a failure 
 of crops in Europe came, .and doubled the price of 
 corn, while the good man's potatoes stood stock 
 still. Lord Avery had gone on without caring a straw 
 about what his neighbours were doing, and reaped 
 a swinging harvest. The calculator was obliged 
 to buy corn of his lordship, who took occasion to 
 crack a joke on his foresight. 
 
 " An ounce of luck is worth a pound of under 
 standing," replied the long-headed man. 
 
 It is well it was, for his lordship had plenty of one 
 and very little of the other. 
 
 Lord Avery loved his son Walter for two espe 
 cial reasons ; he was his only son, and he told the 
 most entertaining stories in the world. Her lady 
 ship immediately, on receiving the information from 
 Mrs. Ratsbane, sought her lord, and poured it all 
 into his ear, with additions. 
 
 " I will" quoth Lord Avery in a passion.
 
 *252 THE DUMB GIIIL. 
 
 " You will !" cried her ladyship, contemptuously, 
 " your will is in the cherry-tree." 
 
 " Well, well, it is my opinion," said he, perfectly 
 cool. 
 
 " Your opinion ! how often have I told you, you 
 have no opinion of your own ?" 
 
 " No opinion of my own a justice have no 
 opinion of his own!" thought he. 
 
 " Well, then, I think" 
 
 " Think ! how often have I told you there is no 
 use in your thinking?" 
 
 " Not much !" thought his lordship adding, 
 
 " Well then, my dear, I say that is, I think 
 that is, I am of opinion my dear, what is your 
 opinion of the matter?" 
 
 " My opinion is, that you had better say nothing 
 on the subject." 
 
 " What did you come and tell me of it for ?" 
 asked his lordship, a little nettled. 
 
 There is a pleasant story, that the secret of Midas 
 having asses ears, was finally discovered by his bar 
 ber, who, unable to contain himself, at length com 
 municated it to the earth, whence soon after sprung 
 up certain reeds, that whispered it to the four winds, 
 which blabbed it all over the world. Her ladyship 
 had never heard this story, but told hers to his 
 lordship for the same reason the barber whispered 
 his to the earth. She wanted somebody to listen, 
 not talk to her.
 
 THE DUMB GIRL. 253 
 
 " What did I tell it to you for ;" at length replied 
 her ladyship, after a puzzling pause, " are you not 
 his father ?" 
 
 " I wish I was his mother !" quoth his lordship. 
 
 " If you were you'd be twice the man you are at 
 present," retorted her ladyship. " But what do 
 you mean to do ?" Her ladyship always asked his 
 advice, while she as invariably took by the rule of 
 contrary. 
 
 " Why, I mean to disinherit him, if" said his 
 lordship, pompously. 
 
 " You disinherit him ! you shall do no sucli 
 thing!" 
 
 " Why, then, I'll make him marry the girl." 
 
 " Marry her !" screamed her ladyship, " why tho 
 creature is dumb !" 
 
 "Hum!" said Lord Avery, "I don't think that 
 any mighty objection." 
 
 " Her brother is an idiot." 
 
 "iPoor fellow, I'm sorry for him." 
 
 " Her mother is a fool." 
 
 " There are plenty to keep her in countenance.'" 
 
 " You're enough to provoke a saint." 
 
 " How should you know ?" quoth Lord Avery, 
 whose mind was wandering a little from the subject. 
 Her ladyship insisted this was as much as telling 
 her she was no saint, and thereupon made her exit 
 in hysterics. And thus the consultation ended. 
 
 The next lime Lord Avery saw his son, he ques 
 tioned him on the subject of Phoebe, and received 
 22
 
 THE DUMB GIRL. 
 
 his solemn assurance of her innocence. The good 
 man believed him, but the lady maintained its im 
 possibility. 
 
 " Why, how do you know it is impossible ?" said 
 his lordship. 
 
 " By experience," answered the lady. 
 
 " Hum," quoth his lordship. 
 
 Her ladyship finding herself in a dilemma, made 
 her retreat, as usual, and fell into hysterics. 
 
 " Walter," said his lordship, who talked like an 
 orator, in the absence of his wife, " Walter, you must 
 not think of marrying this poor dumb girl." 
 
 "I don't mean to," said Walter, with a sly look. 
 
 "Ah! you wicked dog!" quoth his lordship 
 " but mind you don't make a fool of yourself." 
 
 " Never fear, I only mean to make a fool of the 
 girl." 
 
 " Ah ! Walter, you're a chip of the old block" 
 
 said his lordship, complacently. " But I'm elad to 
 
 
 
 find you don't mean to disgrace your family." 
 
 That worthy and gallant bachelor, the school 
 master, came to caution Phoebe, and spoke like an 
 oracle of the improbability that the only son of 
 Lord Avery, should marry, or be permitted to marry 
 the daughter of an ' old continental,' in her situ 
 ation. He then went away, but being moved by 
 her tears, left with her a new novel, in which the 
 rustic heroine becomes a duchess. Phoebe wept 
 for an hour after he went away, at the end of which
 
 THE DUMB GIRL. 255 
 
 she took up the book, and soon lost herself in the 
 extravagancies of sentiment and fiction. 
 
 Matters went forward for some time after this in 
 the usual way; the lovers took long walks together, 
 and the neighbourhood held long talks. Her lady 
 ship scolded, and his lordship very discreetly held 
 his peace at home, consoling himself by making as 
 much noise as possible abroad. All of a sudden 
 however, Phoebe became very sad ; and was ob 
 served to weep bitterly whenever Walter came to see 
 her, which was not now as often as usual. She re 
 fused any more to accompany Him in walks through 
 the wood, or along the banks of the Byram, and he 
 would go away in a passion, threatening never to see 
 her more. Poor Ellee watched her, as. a faithful 
 dog watches the look: of his master, and it was ap 
 parent that he could see she was unhappy, though he 
 onl\ remotely comprehended the cause. He no 
 longer however, shook hands with Walter, and when 
 he went away, leaving Phoebe in tears, would sit 
 down by her side, take Hold of her hand, kiss it, 
 and utter his mournful music. He never shed tears, 
 for nature, though she had given him feelings, had 
 denied him the means of expressing them except by 
 gestures and meanings. It vas an aching sight to 
 see these two poor bereaved beings, thus suffering 
 together, without the power of alleviating their sor 
 rows, except by the silent sympathy of expressive 
 actions and speaking looks. This sympathy was 
 not shared by the mother, whom age and toil had
 
 356 THE DUMB GIRL. 
 
 rendered callous to all the ills of life, except poverty 
 and sickness. If she took particular notice of 
 Phoebe, it was to flout her for her idleness, or sneer 
 at her grand lover ; for the hints and tales of the 
 neighbours had soured her mind towards her daugh 
 ter, and infected her with strange suspicions. 
 
 One day Phoebe received a little billet, and short 
 ly afterwards, having contrived to evade the notice 
 of Ellee, was seen to bend her course towards a little 
 retired spot, distant from any habitation. It was 
 here she had often met Walter, and while leaning 
 on his bosom tasted the joys of an innocent love, 
 ripening into an all devouring flame. A high rock 
 gloomed over the river's bank as it whirled violently 
 round a sharp angle, deep and turbid. Within the 
 angle, and close under the side of the rock, was a 
 little greensward, shadowed by lofty sycamores, and 
 shut in on all sides by the perpendicular rock, the 
 mountain in the rear, and the deep brawling torrent 
 in front. It was a scene made for love, and it might 
 easily be consecrated to a more malignant passion. 
 Ellee followed his sister, as usual when he found she 
 was gone, and after an absence of perhaps two 
 hours, came home without her, in a state of terrible 
 agitation. He motioned with his hands ; he ran to 
 and fro ; pointed to the spot I have described, and 
 attempted to drag his mother violently towards it, 
 gnashing his teeth and actually foaming at the 
 mouth all the while. At length he sat down in a 
 corner, and commenced that strange melancholy
 
 THE DUMB GIRL. 
 
 moaning, which was the only sound he ever uttered. 
 Labour and poverty harden the heart. The mother 
 thought strange of this behaviour at first ; but she 
 was busy at work, and her mind became gradu 
 ally drawn off from the poor boy. 
 
 My uncle and myself happened to come riding by 
 at this moment, and no sooner did Ellee perceive us, 
 than he darted out, seized my uncle's bridle, and 
 pointing first to the house, then to the river, with 
 convulsive rapidity, concluded his dumb show by 
 the customary moan. Assured that something un 
 common had taken place, we alighted, and went into 
 the house, where we found the old woman, so busily 
 at work that she had not been aware of our coming. 
 Ellee followed us in, hung upon our steps, watched 
 every movement, and fixed so intense an eye upon 
 the motion of our lips, that it seemed as if he in 
 tended to translate their very movements. On in 
 quiring what was the matter the good woman related 
 all she knew ; but did not seem to think any thing 
 extraordinary had happened. It was otherwise with 
 my uncle and myself, who determined to go under 
 the guidance of Ellee, and see what had become of 
 his sister. As soon as we mounted our horses, and 
 turned them towards the river, the idiot boy seemed 
 to understand our object. He again commenced his 
 furious gesticulations; gnashed his teeth, foamed at 
 the mouth, and sinking as usual into a low and plain 
 tive quaver, ran with all his might towards the river, 
 22*
 
 '258 THE DUMB GIRL. 
 
 only stopping at times to see if we were coming, and 
 beckoning us eagerly to follow. 
 
 It was now verging towards the sunset of a long 
 day in the month of June. Ellee led us to the 
 place where the river rolled rapidly around the sharp 
 angle of the rock, and there again began the most 
 violent course of gesticulation. He pointed to the 
 roots of an old branching sycamore, then twined his 
 arms about my body and kissed me, then wrung his 
 hands, and imitated weeping as well as he could, 
 and finally ran moaning to the river's bank, and 
 making as if he would cast himself in, howled most 
 piteously, while he pointed to the deep current roll 
 ing past. These significant actions naturally awa 
 kened in our minds the most unpleasant suspicions. 
 We examined the spot with the most minute atten 
 tion. On the bark of the old tree appeared the ini 
 tials P. A. and W. A. apparently but just cut, and 
 at the root, the grass seemed to us to exhibit trace? 
 of two persons having been sitting there very lately, 
 side by side. A little blood was sprinkled on one of 
 the projecting roots of the tree, and a piece of paper 
 was picked up crumpled together and stained with 
 blood. On examining it more particularly, there 
 were found upon it, written with a pencil, some 
 words in the handwriting as it aftewards appeared, of 
 Walter Avery, that seemed to form part of an invi 
 tation to meet him somewhere or other. While this 
 scrutiny was going on, poor Ellee accompanied r.~ 
 with the most intense interest, and watched our look=
 
 THE DUMB GIRL. 259 
 
 apparently to learn the impression made on our 
 minds by these circumstances. By this time it was 
 growing dark, and we quitted the place, notwith 
 standing the violent opposition of Ellee, with a de 
 termination to pursue the investigation next morn 
 ing, if on inquiry it was found Phoebe had not re 
 turned. She did not return that night, nor did she 
 make her appearance the next morning. We ac 
 cordingly again proceeded to the spot where Ellee 
 had before directed us, accompanied by several of 
 the neighbours, and continued our examination. No 
 thing more was observed that could throw light on 
 the affair, though the river was closely and particu 
 larly investigated for some miles below. The gene 
 ral conclusion was that she had been made away 
 with in someway or other, and suspicion fell strongly 
 upon Walter Avery. The notoriety of his court 
 ship to Phoebe, the circumstance of the fragment of 
 the note, and the fact that he had been seen going 
 towards the spot where the fragment was found, all 
 combined, seemed to bring the fact of murder, if not 
 home to him, yet close to his door. 
 
 The conduct of Ellee corroborated these suspi 
 cions. Whenever by any chance he encountered 
 Walter, his rage was ungovernable ; he would as- 
 sail him violently with stones, or when occasion of 
 fered, lay hold of him with all the violence of infu 
 riate madness, tearing his clothes, biting, scratching, 
 kicking, and foaming at the mouth, with a bitter 
 ness of rage and antipathy he never exhibited to-
 
 '260 THE DUMB GIRl. 
 
 wards any other person. Rumours gathered 
 strength every day ; each one compared notes, and 
 each had some circumstance of his own to commu 
 nicate, that added to the mass of presumptions. A 
 legal inquiry was at length instituted, but the dumb 
 testimony of Ellee was so vague and unsatisfactory 
 that the grand jury, while in their hearts they be 
 lieved Walter guilty, declined to find an indictment. 
 Yet in the eyes of all the neighbourhood, Walter 
 stood convicted as a murderer and seducer. He 
 escaped the judgment of the law, but the verdict of 
 society condemned him. He stood a marked man, 
 avoided by all, feared and hated by all ; in the midst 
 of society he was alone, and he sought to be alone. 
 It seemed as if he did not like to look in the face of 
 any human being, and the quick apprehension with 
 which he turned his eye, when it met the glance of 
 another appeared to indicate that he feared they might 
 behold the reflection of his crime in the mirror of 
 his soul. 
 
 Time passed on, carrying as usual on the bosom 
 of his mighty stream, the wrecks of men and things. 
 
 The old Lord, who never since the absence of 
 Phoebe, had once called Walter ' a chip of the old 
 block,' disappeared from this world in the fullness 
 of years. His good fortune followed him to the last, 
 for he sent for a physician who could not come, 
 and thereby escaped the persecutions of the seven 
 sciences, and died of the disease instead of the doc 
 tor. His wife soon followed ; for it would seem that
 
 THE 1>UMB GIRL. 261 
 
 the lives of old people who have lived together a 
 long while, become intertwined with each other. 
 Too weak, as it were, for self-support, they lean 
 upon each other in the down-hill course, and like 
 Jack and Gill, when one falls, the other comes ' tum 
 bling after.' About the same time, or shortly after, 
 for my memory is now grown somewhat indis 
 tinct, the mother of Phoebe likewise departed this 
 life, and poor Ellee was taken to my uncle's house, 
 where he remained the rest of his days, exhibiting 
 in his profound devotion to his benefactor, a libel 
 on huuian reason, which ought to hide its head in 
 shame, when told that dogs and idiots transcend it 
 in gratitude. He died of a sort of premature old 
 age about three years subsequently. 
 
 Walter ^very, the worthy young squire, after 
 the lapse of several years of gloomy retirement, 
 married a woman, who thought his wealth a coun 
 terpoise to all his other delinquencies. They both 
 lived to repent this union. He was a misanthrope, 
 and she a shrew. The days of Walter were days 
 of bitterness, his nights were nights of horror. It 
 seemed as if guilt had unmanned him entirely. He 
 was afraid to be alone in the dark ; the rattling of 
 the shutters made him start ; the howling of the 
 winds, the rolling of the thunder, every shooting 
 star, and every ordinary phenomenon of nature 
 seemed to him the menacings of heaven's wrath, the 
 forerunners of something dreadful. He became the 
 slave of conscience and superstition combined, and
 
 '62 THE DUMB GIRL. 
 
 never knew the blessings of a night of balmy rest. 
 Awake, he lay perspiring in vague indefinite horrors; 
 and sleeping, he rolled from side to side, muttering 
 unintelligible words, and moans that seemed to rend 
 his very vitals. Guilt and remorse are the parents of 
 superstition. Walter became a believer in dreams ; 
 as if the gracious Being, whose attribute is truth, 
 would condescend to convey his intimations through 
 what, ninety-nine times in a hundred, is only the 
 medium of irreconcilable falsehoods and contradic 
 tory absurdities. The impression uppermost in his 
 mind, was his crime ; the figure of Phoebe was ever 
 present to his waking hours ; what wonder then if it 
 haunted his dreams ? Some little coincidences 
 served to frighten him into a belief that they were 
 more than accidental ; and he gradually became a 
 victim to the most abject superstition. In the gloom 
 and silence of night, a thousand fantastic illusions 
 preyed upon his guilty soul ; and when he shut his 
 eyes, a perpetual phantasmagoria of shapeless mon 
 sters danced before him, grinning in horrid defor 
 mity unlike, to any human form, or wearing the well 
 remembered visage of Phoebe, sometimes pale, sad, 
 and deathlike, at others distorted by the most malig 
 nant and diabolical passions. By degrees, as his 
 mind and body became gradually weakened by 
 being thus perpetually assailed, a firm conviction 
 fastened itself on his imagination, that this besetting 
 phantasy was a malignant fiend, empowered by n 
 just Providence to assume the shape of his victim,
 
 THE DUMB GIRL. 263 
 
 to punish him for his crime. At length his wife 
 died ; he never had any children by her ; and that 
 night the figure of Phoebe appeared to him as usual, 
 pointing to a leaf in the pocket-book he had given 
 her, which bore these words : " You shall see me 
 once more." 
 
 Not long after this event, he was sitting on his 
 piazza in the summer twilight, drinking the very 
 dregs of misery, when he was roused by a little 
 boy, about six or eight years old, who stood weep 
 ing before him. 
 
 " What do you want, sir ?" cried Walter, with 
 the impatience common to his state of mind. 
 
 " I want my mother," answered the boy, weeping 
 bitterly. 
 
 " You fool ! I am not your mother. She is not 
 here." 
 
 " I know it, sir ; bui she sent me to you." 
 
 " For what, boy ?" 
 
 " To bring you a letter and some things, sir," 
 said the boy, handing him at the same time a soiled 
 note. 
 
 Walter opened the note. It contained only two 
 words : " Your son." And it was signed " Phoebe 
 Angevine." 
 
 Walter was half insensible for a moment. At 
 length seizing the boy's hand, he asked eagerly, 
 when and where he got that letter. 
 
 " My mother gave it me this morning," said the 
 child. '
 
 264 THE DUMB GIRL. 
 
 " Oh God !" cried Walter ; " I am not then a 
 murderer." And his hard heart melted for once into 
 gratitude to Heaven. His next impulse was to catch 
 the boy's hand, and study his face, where he saw, 
 as he thought, the sparkling eye and glossy ring 
 lets of his ruined mother ; and he hugged him in his 
 arms, and wept delicious tears. The boy did not 
 altogether decline these endearments, but seemed 
 hardly to understand them. 
 
 " I am thy father," said Walter, at length. 
 
 " What is a father ?" said the boy. " Is it any 
 thing like my mother f " 
 
 " Not much," answered the other, and hid his 
 face with his hands. 
 
 " No," said the boy, ' I might have known that ; 
 my mother never spoke to me she only kissed me; 
 but I knew what she meant. Oh, I had almost for 
 got ; she told me with her fingers to give you these." 
 And he handed a little bundle. 
 
 Walter opened it. It contained the silver pencil- 
 case and little pocket-book he had given to Phoebe. 
 
 " Enough," said he, " come in to thy father's 
 home ;" and he led him by the hand into his house. 
 
 That evening he questioned the boy closely as to 
 where and how he had lived, and where his mother 
 had left him in the morning ; for now he was deter 
 mined to seek her, bring her to his home, and make 
 her all the amends in his power. 
 
 " You will find it all there," answered the boy, 
 pointing to the pocket-book. On opening it, he
 
 THE DUMB GIRL. 265 
 
 found it was almost filled with writing, some of it 
 nearly illegible. 
 
 " I am hungry and sleepy," said the boy. 
 
 Walter had his supper brought him, which he ate 
 voraciously ; and being placed in Walter's bed, he 
 fell into such a sweet and balmy sleep as that bed 
 had not witnessed for many a year. 
 
 Walter then proceeded to make out, as well as he 
 could, the contents of the pocket-book. It was a 
 wretched scrawl, full of details of misery. Con 
 nected together, and in our own words, it was as 
 follows : 
 
 It seems that on the day Phoebe disappeared, she 
 had arrived at the place he appointed to meet her 
 some time before him, and had passed the interval 
 in carving their initials on the bark of the old syca 
 more. In doing this, she cut her finger, and wrap 
 ped up the wound in a piece of the note he had sent 
 her, requesting a meeting. When he came, she had, 
 in every way she could make herself understood, 
 pressed him to make her amends for the shame he 
 had brought upon her. To all these he had replied 
 only by lascivious toyings, and attempts to obtain 
 new favours. Indignant at this, the poor girl was 
 running away, when he seized her, just on the bor 
 ders of the rapid river. A struggle ensued ; and 
 Phoebe at length, through rage and despair, threw 
 herself into the stream, just as Ellee, who had as 
 usual followed her, came up, and forgetting in his 
 rage the situation of his sister, furiously assailed 
 23
 
 60 THE DUMB GIRL. 
 
 Walter, and prevented him from affording her any 
 assistance. She floated down the stream, kept up 
 by her clothes and the force of the current, till she 
 became entangled in the thick boughs of a tuft of 
 dwarf willows, that, as is usual with this kind of 
 tree, bent down and floated on the surface of the wa 
 ter. Seizing upon these, she drew herself to the 
 bank, got out of the water, and darted into the thick 
 wood without being perceived. It was then that, 
 smarting under the recollection of Walter's insulting 
 behaviour, and the anticipation of certain disgrace 
 and exposure, she formed the resolution never to re 
 turn home again. Accordingly, she crossed the 
 mountain, which bordered the river, and became an 
 outcast and a wanderer. 
 
 Her infirmity of speech proved her best friend 
 among the strangers at a distance with whom 
 she sojourned. She was treated with kindness, as 
 one on whom the hand of Providence had inflicted 
 the sorest evils ; and she made herself useful by her 
 habits of industry. At this time news did not travel 
 as fast as now ; for there were few readers, and fewer 
 newspapers to trumpet forth murders and accidents 
 of flood and field. She remained here accordingly 
 without seeing or hearing any inquirers or inquiries 
 after her, and without knowing what was passing 
 at home. When her child was born, they wished 
 to take it away, and place it at nurse in a poor- 
 house ; but she would not consent. She nursed 
 it and brought it up, without being a burthen to any
 
 THE DUMB GIRL* 207 
 
 living soul. Thus she continued on, till one day, 
 as chance would have it, a person came that way, 
 who lived in her neighbourhood, and knew her at 
 once. From him she learned all I have been re 
 lating, up to the period in which Walter's wile died. 
 She took her resolution at once, and departed from 
 her asylum with her child. On arriving in the vici 
 nity of Walter's habitation, she placed herself in a 
 situation where she would not be observed, and in 
 structing the boy what to do, embraced him with 
 tears, and forced him from her much against his 
 will. She waited to see her son received into his 
 father's arms, and taken to his home, and then dis 
 appeared from the knowledge of all, completely 
 eluding the inquiries of Walter. On the last page 
 of the pocket-book was written, "You shall see me 
 once morf." Strange, thought Walter, the very 
 words of my dream ! The coincidence was singu 
 lar ; but where is the wonder that one dream out of 
 a whole life should present some resemblance to a 
 reality ? 
 
 Walter Avery had paid the full penalty of his 
 crime, in the misery of seven long years. He now 
 enjoyed comparative ease, although he never, to the 
 latest period of his life, could cast on*" the terrors of 
 darkness and the leaden chains of superstition. 
 Time swept on, and the boy Walter grew up to 
 wards manhood, giving promise of becoming as 
 handsome as his mother, and a better man than his 
 father. At length Walter took sick, and lay on his
 
 '268 THE DUMB GIRL. 
 
 death-bed. It was just in the twilight of the evening, 
 when his son was alone with him in the room. A 
 female figure came quietly in, and sat down by the 
 bedside. 
 
 " Who's that ?" asked Walter, in a weak whisper. 
 
 " It is my mother !" cried the boy, starting up 
 and kissing her affectionately. 
 
 " She said she would come and see me once 
 more," thought Walter. "It is for the last time : 
 now I know that I shall die." And he lay for a 
 while almost insensible. At length he requested his 
 son to raise him. 
 
 " Phoebe," said ho, " can you forgive me ?" 
 
 Phoebe pointed to the boy ; then placed her hand 
 on her heart ; and raising her still beautiful eyes 
 towards heaven, leant down and kissed him. 
 
 Walter seemed endowed with new life. 
 
 " Send for Doctor Townley quick quick !'' 
 said he. 
 
 " You mean Doctor Barley," said his son. 
 
 " No, no ; I mean Parson Townley," answered 
 he; "run, run !" 
 
 " He wishes the doctor to pray with him," thought 
 Phoebe, and motioned her son to obey. In the 
 course of half an hour the clergyman arrived. 
 
 " Doctor," cried Walter, " I sent for you to mar 
 ry me." " He is delirious, poor man," observed the 
 clergyman ; " he will be wedded to none but the 
 winding-sheet and the worm, poor soul."
 
 THE DUMB GIRL. *w 
 
 " Come, come ; there is no time to be lost." 
 
 " Where is the bride ?" said the clergyman, will 
 ing to soothe him. 
 
 "There," answered Walter; "the mother of 
 that boy." 
 
 " Indeed !" cried the good man ; " then he is not 
 mad. I am ready, Mr. A very ; come hither, 
 Phoebe ; I did not know you ; give me your hand." 
 
 Phoebe hung back, and shook her head, with 
 determined opposition. 
 
 " For the sake of thy son." 
 
 Still she refused her hand. 
 
 " For the sake of the father, then. Would you 
 refuse him the opportunity of making his peace with 
 Heaven, by atoning his injuries to thee ?" 
 
 Phoebe bowed her head with reverence, and 
 gave the clergyman her hand. He placed it within 
 that of the sick man, and went through with the 
 ceremony. 
 
 "May God reward you for this act of justice,' 1 
 said the clergyman. 
 
 " May God forgive me," replied Walter. 
 
 Two weeks afterwards Phoebe was a widow. 
 
 " Well, for my part," said Mrs. Fubsy, " I sha'n't 
 visit her." 
 
 "Nor I," said Mrs. Cluckey. 
 
 "Nor I," said Mrs. Skimpey. 
 
 " Nor I," said Mrs. Ratsbane. 
 
 Yet they all went to see Phoebe in the course of a 
 fortnight, and all declared she was one of the most
 
 THE 1>UMB GIKL. 
 
 agreeable creatures in the world. The truth is, our 
 heroine was an excellent listener, which, in this 
 talking republic of ours, is better than the eloquence 
 of a Patrick Henry, a Randolph, or a Clay. 
 
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