Chapter 7

  "Oh! forget not the hour, when through forest and vale
  We returned with our chief to his dear native halls!
  Through the woody Sierra there sigh'd not a gale,
  And the moonbeam was bright on his battlement walls;
  And nature lay sleeping in calmness and light,
  Round the house of the _truants_, that rose on our sight."
  MRS. HEMANS.

We had fallen on board an eastern coaster, called the Martha
Wallis. bound from James' River to Boston, intending to cross the
shoals. Her watch had seen us, because the coasters generally keep
better look-outs than Indiamen; the latter, accustomed to good
offings, having a trick of letting their people go to sleep in the
night-watches. I made a calculation of the turns on board the Tigris,
and knew it was Mr. Marble's watch when we passed the ship; and I make
no question he was, at that very moment, nodding on the hencoops--a
sort of trick he had. I cannot even now understand, however, why the
man at the wheel did not hear the outcry we made. To me it appeared
loud enough to reach the land.

Sailors ordinarily receive wrecked mariners kindly. Our treatment on
board the Martha Wallis was all I could have desired, and the captain
promised to put us on board the first coaster she should fall in with,
bound to New York. He was as good as his word, though not until more
than a week had elapsed. It fell calm as soon as the north-wester blew
its pipe out, and we did not get into the Vineyard Sound for nine
days. Here we met a craft the skipper knew, and, being a regular
Boston and New York coaster, we were put on board her, with a
recommendation to good treatment The people of the Lovely Lass
received us just as we had been received on board the Martha Wallis;
all hands of us living aft, and eating codfish, good beef and pork,
with duff (dough) and molasses, almost _ad libitum_. From this
last vessel we learned all the latest news of the French war, and how
things were going on in the country. The fourth day after we were put
on board this craft, Rupert and I landed near Peck's Slip, New York,
with nothing on earth in our possession, but just in what we
stood. This, however, gave us but little concern--I had abundance at
home, and Rupert was certain of being free from want, both through me
and through his father.

I had never parted with the gold given me by Lucy, however. When we
got into the boat to land at the cape, I had put on the belt in which
I kept this little treasure, and it was still round my body. I had
kept it as a sort of memorial of the dear girl who had given it to me;
but I now saw the means of making it useful, without disposing of it
altogether. I knew that the wisest course, in all difficulties, was
to go at once to head-quarters. I asked the address of the firm that
owned, or rather _had_ owned the John, and proceeded to the
counting-house forthwith. I told my story, but found that Kite had
been before me. It seems that the Tigris got a fair wind, three days
after the blow, that carried her up to the very wharves of
Philadelphia, when most of the John's people had come on to New York
without delay. By communications with the shore at the cape, the pilot
had learned that his boat had never returned, and our loss was
supposed to have inevitably occurred. The accounts of all this were in
the papers, and I began to fear that the distressing tidings might
have reached Clawbonny. Indeed, there were little obituary notices of
Rupert and myself in the journals, inserted by some hand piously
employed, I should think, by Mr. Kite. We were tenderly treated,
considering our _escapade_; and _my_ fortune and prospects
were dwelt on with some touches of eloquence that might have been
spared.

In that day, however, a newspaper was a very different thing from what
it has since become. Then, journals were created merely to meet the
demand, and news was given as it actually occurred; whereas, now, the
competition has produced a change that any one can appreciate, when it
is remembered to what a _competition in news_ must infallibly
lead. In that day, our own journals had not taken to imitating the
worst features of the English newspapers--talents and education are
not yet cheap enough in America to enable them to imitate the
best--and the citizen was supposed to have some rights, as put in
opposition to the press. The public sense of right had not become
blunted by familiarity with abuses, and the miserable and craven
apology was never heard for not enforcing the laws, that nobody cares
for what the newspapers say. Owing to these causes, I escaped a
thousand lies about myself, my history, my disposition, character and
acts. Still, I was in print; and I confess it half-frightened me to
see my death announced in such obvious letters, although I had
physical evidence of being alive and well.

The owners questioned me closely about the manner in which the John
was lost, and expressed themselves satisfied with my answers. I then
produced my half-joes, and asked to borrow something less than their
amount on their security. To the latter part of the proposition,
however, these gentlemen would not listen, forcing a check for a
hundred dollars on me, desiring that the money might be paid at my own
convenience. Knowing I had Clawbonny, and a very comfortable income
under my lee, I made no scruples about accepting the sum, and took my
leave.

Rupert and I had now the means of equipping ourselves neatly, though
always in sailor guise. After this was done, we proceeded to the
Albany basin, in order to ascertain whether the Wallingford were down
or not. At the basin we learned that the sloop had gone out that very
forenoon, having on board a black with his young master's effects; a
lad who was said to have been out to Canton with young Mr.
Wallingford, and who was now on his way home, to report all the sad
occurrences to the family in Ulster. This, then, was Neb, who had got
thus far back in charge of our chests, and was about to return to
slavery.

We had been in hopes that we might possibly reach Clawbonny before the
tidings of our loss. This intelligence was likely to defeat the
expectation; but, luckily, one of the fastest sloops on the river, a
Hudson packet, was on the point of sailing, and, though the wind held
well to the northward, her master thought he should be able to turn up
with the tides, as high as our creek, in the course of the next
eight-and-forty hours. This was quite as much as the Wallingford could
do, I felt well persuaded; and, making a bargain to be landed on the
western shore, Rupert and I put our things on board this packet, and
were under way in half an hour's time.

So strong was my own anxiety, I could not keep off the deck until we
had anchored on account of the flood; and much did I envy Rupert, who
had coolly turned in as soon as it was dark, and went to sleep. When
the anchor was down, I endeavoured to imitate his example. On turning
out next morning, I found the vessel in Newburgh Bay, with a fair
wind. About twelve o'clock I could see the mouth of the creek, and the
Wallingford fairly entering it, her sails disappearing behind the
trees, just as I caught sight of them. As no other craft of her size
ever went up to that landing, I could not be mistaken in the vessel.

By getting ashore half a mile above the creek, there was a farm-road
that would lead to the house by a cut so short, as nearly to bring us
there as soon as Neb could possibly arrive with his dire, but false
intelligence. The place was pointed out to the captain, who had
extracted our secret from us, and who good-naturedly consented to do
all we asked of him. I do think he would have gone into the creek
itself, had it been required. But we were landed, with our bag of
clothes--one answered very well for both--at the place I have
mentioned, and, taking turn about to shoulder the wardrobe, away we
went, as fast as legs could carry us. Even Rupert seemed to feel on
this occasion, and I do think he had a good deal of contrition, as he
must have recollected the pain he had occasioned his excellent father,
and dear, good sister.

Clawbonny never looked more beautiful than when I first cast eyes on
it, that afternoon. There lay the house in the secure retirement of
its smiling vale, the orchards just beginning to lose their blossoms;
the broad, rich meadows, with the grass waving in the south wind,
resembling velvet; the fields of corn of all sorts; and the cattle, as
they stood ruminating, or enjoying their existence in motionless
self-indulgence beneath the shade of trees, seemed to speak of
abundance and considerate treatment. Everything denoted peace, plenty
and happiness. Yet this place, with all its blessings and security,
had I wilfully deserted to encounter pirates in the Straits of Sunda,
shipwreck on the shores of Madagascar, jeopardy in an open boat off
the Isle of France, and a miraculous preservation from a horrible
death on my own coast!

At no great distance from the house was a dense grove, in which Rupert
and I had, with our own hands, constructed a rude summer-house, fit to
be enjoyed on just such an afternoon as this on which we had
returned. When distant from it only two hundred yards, we saw the
girls enter the wood, evidently taking the direction of the seat. At
the same moment I caught a glimpse of Neb moving up the road from the
landing at a snail's pace, as if the poor fellow dreaded to encounter
the task before him. After a moment's consultation, we determined to
proceed at once to the grove, and thus anticipate the account of Neb,
who must pass so near the summer-house as to be seen and
recognised. We met with more obstacles than we had foreseen or
remembered, and when we got to a thicket close in the rear of the
bench, we found that the black was already in the presence of his two
"young mistresses."

The appearance of the three, when I first caught a near view of them,
was such as almost to terrify me. Even Neb, whose face was usually as
shining as a black bottle, was almost of the colour of ashes. The poor
fellow could not speak, and, though Lucy was actually shaking him to
extract an explanation, the only answer she could get was tears. These
flowed from Neb's eyes in streams, and at length the fellow threw
himself on the ground, and fairly began to groan.

"Can this be shame at having run away?" exclaimed Lucy, "or does it
foretell evil to the boys?"

"He knows nothing of _them_, not having been with them--yet, I
am terrified."

"Not on my account, dearest sister," I cried aloud; "here are Rupert
and I, God be praised, both in good health, and safe."

I took care to remain hid, as I uttered this, not to alarm more than
one sense at a time; but both the girls shrieked, and held out their
arms. Rupert and I hesitated no longer, but sprang forward. I know not
how it happened, though I found, on recovering my self-possession,
that I was folding Lucy to my heart, while Rupert was doing the same
to Grace. This little mistake, however, was soon rectified, each man
embracing his own sister, as in duty bound, and as was most decorous.
The girls shed torrents of tears, and assured us, again and again,
that this was the only really happy moment they had known since the
parting on the wharf, nearly a twelvemonth before. Then followed looks
at each other, exclamations of surprise and pleasure at the changes
that had taken place in the appearance of all parties, and kisses and
tears again, in abundance.

As for Neb, the poor fellow was seen in the road, whither he had fled
at the sound of my voice, looking at us like one in awe and
doubt. Being satisfied, in the end, of our identity, as well as of our
being in the flesh, the negro again threw himself on the ground,
rolling over and over, and fairly yelling with delight. After going
through this process of negro excitement, he leaped up on his feel,
and started for the house, shouting at the top of his voice, as if
certain the good intelligence he brought would secure his own pardon--
"Master Miles come home!--Master Miles come home!"

In a few minutes, quiet was sufficiently restored among us four, who
remained at the seat, to ask questions, and receive intelligible
answers. Glad was I to ascertain that the girls had been spared the
news of our loss. As for Mr. Hardinge, he was well, and busied, as
usual, in discharging the duties of his holy office. He had told Grace
and Lucy the name of the vessel in which we had shipped, but said
nothing of the painful glimpse he had obtained of us, just as we
lifted our anchor, to quit the port. Grace, in a solemn manner, then
demanded an outline of our adventures. As Rupert was the spokesman on
this occasion, the question having been in a manner put to him as
oldest, I had an opportunity of watching the sweet countenances of the
two painfully interested listeners. Rupert affected modesty in his
narration, if he did not feel it, though I remarked that he dwelt a
little particularly on the shot which had lodged so near him, in the
head of the Tigris's foremast. He spoke of the whistling it made as it
approached, and the violence of the blow when it struck. He had the
impudence, too, to speak of my good-luck in being on the other side of
the top, when the shot passed through my station; whereas I do believe
that the shot passed nearer to me than it did to himself. It barely
missed me, and by all I could learn Rupert was leaning over by the
top-mast rigging when it lodged. The fellow told his story in his own
way, however, and with so much unction that I observed it made Grace
look pale. The effect on Lucy was different. This excellent creature
perceived my uneasiness, I half suspected, for she laughed, and,
interrupting her brother, told him, "There--that's enough about the
cannon-ball; now let us hear of something else." Rupert coloured, for
he had frequently had such frank hints from his sister, in the course
of his childhood; but he had too much address to betray the vexation I
knew he felt.

To own the truth, my attachment for Rupert had materially lessened
with the falling off of my respect. He had manifested so much
selfishness during the voyage--had shirked so much duty, most of which
had fallen on poor Neb--and had been so little of the man, in
practice, whom he used so well to describe with his tongue--that I
could no longer shut my eyes to some of his deficiencies of character.
I still liked him; but it was from habit, and perhaps because he was
my guardian's son, and Lucy's brother. Then I could not conceal from
myself that Rupert was not, in a rigid sense, a lad of truth. He
coloured, exaggerated, glossed over and embellished, if he did not
absolutely invent. I was not old enough then to understand that most
of the statements that float about the world are nothing but truths
distorted, and that nothing is more rare than unadulterated fact; that
truths and lies travel in company, as described by Pope in his Temple
of Fame, until--

"This or that unmixed, no mortal e'er shall find."

In this very narration of our voyage, Rupert had left false
impressions on the minds of his listeners, in fifty things. He had
made far more of both our little skirmishes, than the truth would
warrant, and he had neglected to do justice to Neb in his account of
each of the affairs. Then he commended Captain Robbins's conduct in
connection with the loss of the John, on points that could not be
sustained, and censured him for measures that deserved praise. I knew
Rupert was no seaman--was pretty well satisfied, by this time, he
never would make one--but I could not explain all his obliquities by
referring them to ignorance. The manner, moreover, in which he
represented himself as the principal actor, on all occasions, denoted
so much address, that, while I felt the falsity of the impressions he
left, I did not exactly see the means necessary to counteract them. So
ingenious, indeed, was his manner of stringing facts and inferences
together, or what _seemed_ to be facts and inferences, that I
more than once caught myself actually believing that which, in sober
reality, I knew to be false. I was still too young, not quite
eighteen, to feel any apprehensions on the subject of Grace; and was
too much accustomed to both Rupert and his sister, to regard either
with any feelings very widely different from those which I entertained
for Grace herself.

As soon as the history of our adventures and exploits was concluded,
we all had leisure to observe and comment on the alterations that time
had made in our several persons. Rupert, being the oldest, was the
least changed in this particular. He had got his growth early, and
was only a little spread. He had cultivated a pair of whiskers at sea,
which rendered his face a little more manly--an improvement, by the
way--but, the effects of exposure and of the sun excepted, there was
no very material change in his exterior. Perhaps, on the whole, he
was improved in appearance. I think both the girls fancied this,
though Grace did not say it, and Lucy only half admitted it, and that
with many reservations. As for myself, I was also full-grown, standing
exactly six feet in my stockings, which was pretty well for eighteen.
But I had also spread; a fact that is not common for lads at that
age. Grace said I had lost all delicacy of appearance; and as for
Lucy, though she laughed and blushed she protested I began to look
like a great bear. To confess the truth, I was well satisfied with my
own appearance, did not envy Rupert a jot, and knew I could toss him
over my shoulder whenever I chose. I stood the strictures on my
appearance, therefore, very well; and, though no one was so much
derided and laughed at as myself, in that critical discussion, no one
cared less for it all. Just as I was permitted to escape, Lucy said,
in an under tone--

"You should have staid at home, Miles, and then the changes would have
come so gradually, no one would have noticed them, and you would have
escaped being told how much you are altered, and that you are a
_bear_."

I looked eagerly round at the speaker, and eyed her intently. A look
of regret passed over the dear creature's face, her eyes looked as
penitent as they did soft, and the flush that suffused her countenance
rendered this last expression almost bewitching. At the same instant
she whispered--"I did not really mean _that_."

But it was Grace's turn, and my attention was drawn to my sister. A
year had made great improvements in Grace. Young as she was, she had
lost much of the girlish air, in the sedateness and propriety of the
young woman. Grace had always something more of these last than is
common; but they had now completely removed every appearance of
childish, I might almost say of girlish, frivolity. In person, her
improvement was great; though an air of exceeding delicacy rather left
an impression that such a being was more intended for another world,
than this. There was ever an air of fragility and of pure
intellectuality about my poor sister, that half disposed one to fancy
that she would one day be translated to a better sphere in the body,
precisely as she stood before human eyes. Lucy bore the examination
well. She was all woman, there being nothing about _her_ to
create any miraculous expectations, or fanciful pictures; but she was
evidently fast getting to be a very lovely woman. Honest, sincere,
full of heart, overflowing with the feelings of her sex, gentle yet
spirited, buoyant though melting with the charities; her changeful,
but natural and yet constant feelings in her, kept me incessantly in
pursuit of her playful mind and varying humours. Still, a more
high-principled being, a firmer or more consistent friend, or a more
accurate thinker on all subjects that suited her years and became her
situation, than Lucy Hardinge, never existed. Even Grace was
influenced by her judgment, though I did not then know how much my
sister's mind was guided by her simple and less pretending friend's
capacity to foresee things, and to reason on their consequences.

We were more than an hour uninterruptedly together, before we thought
of repairing to the house. Lucy then reminded Rupert that he had not
yet seen his father, whom she had just before observed alighting from
his horse at the door of his own study. That he had been apprised of
the return of the runaways, if not prodigals, was evident, she
thought, by his manner; and it was disrespectful to delay seeking his
forgiveness and blessing. Mr. Hardinge received us both without
surprise, and totally without any show of resentment. It was about the
time he expected our return, and no surprise was felt at finding this
expectation realized, as a matter of course, while resentment was
almost a stranger to his nature. We all shed tears, the girls sobbing
aloud; and we were both solemnly blessed. Nor am I ashamed to say I
knelt to receive that blessing, in an age when the cant of a
pretending irreligion--there is as much cant in self-sufficiency as in
hypocrisy, and they very often go together--is disposed to turn into
ridicule the humbling of the person, while asking for the blessing of
the Almighty through the ministers of his altars; for kneel I did, and
weep I did, and, I trust, the one in humility and the other in
contrition.

When we had all become a little calm, and a substantial meal was
placed before us adventurers, Mr. Hardinge demanded an account of all
that had passed. He applied to me to give it, and I was compelled to
discharge the office of an historian, somewhat against my
inclination. There was no remedy, however, and I told the story in my
own simple manner, and certainly in a way to leave very different
impressions from many of those made by the narrative of Rupert. I
thought once or twice, as I proceeded, that Lucy looked sorrowful, and
Grace looked surprised. I do not think I coloured in the least, as
regarded myself, and I know I did Neb no more than justice. My tale
was soon told, for I felt the whole time as if I were contradicting
Rupert, who, by the way, appeared perfectly unconcerned--perfectly
unconscious, indeed--on the subject of the discrepancies in the two
accounts. I have since met with men who did not know the truth when it
was even placed very fairly before their eyes.

Mr. Hardinge expressed his heartfelt happiness at having us back
again, and, soon after, he ventured to ask if we were satisfied with
what we had seen of the world. This was a home question, but I thought
it best to meet it manfully. So far from being satisfied, I told him
it was my ardent desire to get on board one of the letters-of-marque,
of which so many were then fitting out in the country, and to make a
voyage to Europe. Rupert, however, confessed he had mistaken his
vocation, and that he thought he could do no better than to enter a
lawyer's office. I was thunderstruck at this quiet admission of my
friend, of his incapacity to make a sailor, for it was the first
intimation I heard of his intention. I had remarked a certain want of
energy, in various situations that required action, in Rupert, but no
want of courage; and I had ascribed some portion of his lassitude to
the change of condition, and, possibly, of food; for, after all, that
godlike creature, man, is nothing but an animal, and is just as much
influenced by his stomach and digestion as a sheep, or a horse.

Mr. Hardinge received his son's intimation of a preference of
intellectual labours to a more physical state of existence, with a
gratification my own wishes did not afford him. Still, he made no
particular remark to either at the time, permitting us both to enjoy
our return to Clawbonny, without any of the drawbacks of advice or
lectures. The evening passed delightfully, the girls beginning to
laugh heartily at our own ludicrous accounts of the mode of living on
board ship, and of our various scenes in China, the Isle of Bourbon,
and elsewhere. Rupert had a great deal of humour, and a very dry way
of exhibiting it; in short, he was almost a genius in the mere
superficialities of life; and even Grace rewarded his efforts to
entertain us, with laughter to tears. Neb was introduced after
supper, and the fellow was both censured and commended; censured for
having abandoned the household gods, and commended for not having
deserted their master. His droll descriptions of the Chinese, their
dress, pigtails, shoes and broken English, diverted even Mr.
Hardinge, who, I believe, felt as much like a boy on this occasion, as
any of the party. A happier evening than that which followed in the
little _tea_-parlour, as my dear mother used to call it, was
never passed in the century that the roof had covered the old walls of
Clawbonny.

Next day I had a private conversation with my guardian, who commenced
the discourse by rendering a sort of account of the proceeds of my
property during the past year. I listened respectfully, and with some
interest; for I saw the first gave Mr. Hardinge great satisfaction,
and I confess the last afforded some little pleasure to myself. I
found that things had gone on very prosperously. Ready money was
accumulating, and I saw that, by the time I came of age, sufficient
cash would be on hand to give me a ship of my own, should I choose to
purchase one. From that moment I was secretly determined to qualify
myself to command her in the intervening time. Little was said of the
future, beyond an expression of the hope, by my guardian, that I would
take time to reflect before I came to a final decision on the subject
of my profession. To this I said nothing beyond making a respectful
inclination of the head.

For the next month, Clawbonny was a scene of uninterrupted merriment
and delight. We had few families to visit in our immediate
neighbourhood, it is true; and Mr. Hardinge proposed an excursion to
the Springs--the country was then too new, and the roads too bad, to
think of Niagara--but to this I would not listen. I cared not for the
Springs--knew little of, and cared less for fashion--and loved
Clawbonny to its stocks and stones. We remained at home, then, living
principally for each other. Rupert read a good deal to the girls,
under the direction of his father; while I passed no small portion of
my time in athletic exercises. The Grace & Lucy made one or two
tolerably long cruises in the river, and at length I conceived the
idea of taking the party down to town in the Wallingford. Neither of
the girls had ever seen New York, or much of the Hudson; nor had
either ever seen a ship. The sloops that passed up and down the
Hudson, with an occasional schooner, were the extent of their
acquaintance with vessels; and I began to feel it to be matter of
reproach that those in whom I took so deep an interest, should be so
ignorant. As for the girls themselves, they both admitted, now I was a
sailor, that their desire to see a regular, three-masted, full-rigged
ship, was increased seven-fold.

Mr. Hardinge heard my proposition, at first, as a piece of pleasantry;
but Grace expressing a strong desire to see a large town, or what was
thought a large town in this country, in 1799, and Lucy looking
wistful, though she remained silent under an apprehension her father
could not afford the expense of such a journey, which her imagination
rendered a great deal more formidable than it actually proved to be,
the excellent divine finally acquiesced. The expense was disposed of
in a very simple manner. The journey, both ways, would be made in the
Wallingford; and Mr. Hardinge was not so unnecessarily scrupulous as
to refuse passages for himself and children in the sloop, which never
exacted passage-money from any who went to or from the farm. Food was
so cheap, too, as to be a matter of no consideration; and, being
entitled legally to receive that at Clawbonny, it made no great
difference whether it were taken on board the vessel, or in the
house. Then there was a Mrs. Bradfort in New York, a widow lady of
easy fortune, who was a cousin-german of Mr. Hardinge's--his father's
sister's daughter--and with her he always staid in his own annual
visits to attend the convention of the Church--I beg pardon, of the
Protestant Episcopal Church, as it is now _de rigueur_ to say; I
wonder some ultra does not introduce the manifest improvement into the
Apostles' Creed of saying, "I believe in the Holy Protestant Episcopal
Catholic Church, &c."--but, the excellent divine, in his annual
attendance on the convention, was accustomed to stay with his
kinswoman, who often pressed him to bring both Lucy and Grace to see
her; her house in Wall street being abundantly large enough to
accommodate a much more numerous party. "Yes," said Mr. Hardinge,
"that shall be the arrangement. The girls and I will stay with
Mrs. Bradfort, and the young men can live at a tavern. I dare say this
new City Hotel, which seems to be large enough to contain a regiment,
will hold even _them_. I will write this very evening to my
cousin, so as not to take her by surprise."

In less than a week after this determination, an answer was received
from Mrs. Bradfort; and, the very next day, the whole party, Neb
included, embarked in the Wallingford. Very different was this
passage down the Hudson from that which had preceded it. Then I had
the sense of error about me, while my heart yearned towards the two
dear girls we had left on the wharf; but now everything was
above-board sincere, and by permission. It is scarcely necessary to
say that Grace and Lucy were enchanted with everything they saw. The
Highlands, in particular, threw them both into ecstasies, though I
have since seen so much of the world as to understand, with nearly all
experienced tourists, that this is _relatively_ the worst part of
the scenery of this beautiful river. When I say _relatively_, I
mean as comparing the _bolder_ parts of our stream with those of
others--speaking of them as _high lands_--many other portions of
this good globe having a much superior _grandeur_, while very few
have so much lovely river scenery compressed into so small a space as
is to be found in the other parts of the Hudson.

In due time we arrived in New York, and I had the supreme happiness of
pointing out to the girls the State's Prison, the Bear Market, and the
steeples of St. Paul's and Trinity-_old_ Trinity, as it was so
lately the fashion to style a church that was built only a few years
before, and which, in my youth, was considered as magnificent as it
was venerable. That building has already disappeared; and another
edifice, which is now termed splendid, _vast_, and I know not
what, has been reared in its place. By the time this is gone, and one
or two generations of buildings have succeeded, each approaching
nearer to the high standard of church architecture in the old world,
the Manhattanese will get to understand something of the use of the
degrees of comparison on such subjects. When that day shall arrive,
they will cease to be provincial, and--not till then.

What a different thing was Wall street, in 1799, from what it is
to-day? Then, where so many Grecian temples are now reared to Plutus,
were rows of modest provincial dwellings; not a tittle more
provincial, however, than the thousand meretricious houses of bricks
and marble that have since started up in their neighbourhood, but far
less pretending, and insomuch the more creditable. Mrs. Bradfort lived
in one of these respectable abodes, and thither Mr. Hardinge led the
way, with just as much confidence as one would now walk into Bleeker
street, or the Fifth Avenue. Money-changers were then unknown, or, if
known, were of so little account that they had not sufficient force to
form a colony and a league by themselves. Even the banks did not deem
it necessary to be within a stone's throw of each other--I believe
there were but two--as it might be in self-defence. We have seen all
sorts of expedients adopted, in this sainted street, to protect the
money-bags, from the little temple that was intended to be so small as
only to admit the dollars and those who were to take care of them, up
to the edifice that might contain so many rogues, as to render things
safe on the familiar principle of setting a thief to catch a thief.
All would not do. The difficulty has been found to be unconquerable,
except in those cases in which the homely and almost worn-out
expedient of employing honest men, has been resorted to. But, to
return from the gossipings of old age to an agreeable widow, who was
still under forty.

Mrs. Bradfort received Mr. Hardinge in a way to satisfy us all that
she was delighted to see him. She had prepared a room for Rupert and
myself, and no apologies or excuses would be received. We had to
consent to accept of her hospitalities. In an hour's time, all were
established, and I believe all were at home.

I shall not dwell on the happiness that succeeded. We were all too
young to go to parties, and, I might almost add, New York itself was
too young to have any; but in the last I should have been mistaken,
though there were not as many _children's_ balls in 1799,
perhaps, after allowing for the difference in population, as there are
to-day. If too young to be company, we were not too young to see
sights. I sometimes laugh as I remember what these were at that
time. There was such a museum as would now be thought lightly of in a
western city of fifteen or twenty years' growth--a circus kept by a
man of the name of Ricketts--the theatre in John street, a very modest
Thespian edifice--and a lion, I mean literally the beast, that was
kept in a cage quite out of town, that his roaring might not disturb
people, somewhere near the spot where the _triangle_ that is
called Franklin _Square_ now is. All these we saw, even to the
theatre; good, indulgent Mr. Hardinge seeing no harm in letting us go
thither under the charge of Mrs. Bradfort. I shall never forget the
ecstasy of that night! The novelty was quite as great to Rupert and
myself as it was to the girls; for, though we had been to China, we
had never been to the play.

Well was it said, "Vanity, vanity--all is vanity!" He that lives as
long as I have lived, will have seen most of his opinions, and I think
I may add, _all_ his tastes, change. Nothing short of revelation
has a stronger tendency to convince us of the temporary character of
our probationary state in this world, than to note for how short a
period, and for what imperfect ends, all our hopes and success in life
have been buoying us up, and occupying our minds. After fifty, the
delusion begins to give way; and, though we may continue to live, and
even to be happy, blind indeed must be he who does not see the end of
his road, and foresee some of the great results to which it is to
lead. But of all this, our quartette thought little in the year 1799.