Afloat and Ashore, James Fenimore Cooper [romantic story to read TXT] 📗

another cause. Rupert is entirely dependent on his sister, and I know Lucy so well as to feel certain--some extraordinary cause not interposing--that she wishes to bestow half her cousin's fortune on her brother. This cannot be done until she is of age, and she wants near two years of attaining her majority."

I made no answer; for I felt how likely this was to be true. Lucy was not a girl of professions, and she would be very apt to keep a resolution of this nature, a secret in her own breast, until ready to carry it into execution. No more passed between Mr. Hardinge and myself, on the subject of our recent conversation; though I could see my avowal had made him sad, and that it induced him to treat me with more affection, even, than had been his practice. Once or twice, in the course of the next day or two, I overheard him soliloquizing--a habit to which he was a good deal addicted--during which he would murmur, "What a pity!"--"How much to be regretted!"'--"I would rather have him for a son than any man on earth!" and other similar expressions. Of course, these involuntary disclosures did not weaken my regard for my late guardian.

About noon, the Grace & Lucy came in, and Neb reported that Dr. Bard was not at home. He had left my letter, however, and it would be delivered as soon as possible. He told me also that the wind had been favourable on the river, and that the Wallingford must reach town that day.

Nothing further occurred, worthy of notice. I passed the afternoon with Grace, in the little room; and we conversed much of the past, of our parents in particular, without adverting, however, to her situation, any further than to apprise her of what I had done. I thought she was not sorry to learn I had sent for Lucy, now that I was with her, and it was no longer possible her illness could be concealed. As for the physicians, when they were mentioned, I could see a look of tender concern in Grace's eyes, as if she regretted that I still clung to the delusion of hoping to see her health restored. Notwithstanding these little drawbacks, we passed a sweet eventide together. For more than an hour, Grace lay on my bosom, occasionally patting her hand on my cheeks, as the child caresses its mother. This was an old habit of hers, and it was one I was equally delighted and pained to have her resume, now we were of the age and stature of man and woman.

The next day was Sunday, and Grace insisted on my driving her to church. This was done, accordingly, in a very old-fashioned, but very easy Boston chaise, that had belonged to my mother, and with very careful driving. The congregation, like the church-edifice of St. Michael's, was very small, being confined, with some twenty or thirty exceptions, to the family and dependants of Clawbonny. Mr. Hardinge's little flock was hedged in by other denominations on every side, and it was not an easy matter to break through the barriers that surrounded it. Then he was not possessed with the spirit of proselytism, contenting himself with aiding in the spiritual advancement of those whom Providence had consigned to his care. On the present occasion, however, the little building was full, and that was as much as could have happened had it been as large as St. Peter's itself. The prayers were devoutly and fervently read, and the sermon was plain and filled with piety.

My sister professed herself in no manner wearied with the exertion. We dined with Mr. Hardinge, at the Rectory, which was quite near the church; and the irreverent, business-like, make-weight sort of look, of going in to one service almost as soon as the other was ended, as if to score off so much preaching and praying as available at the least trouble, being avoided, by having the evening service commence late, she was enabled to remain until the close of the day. Mr. Hardinge rarely preached but once of a Sunday. He considered the worship of God, and the offices of the church, as the proper duties of the day, and regarded his own wisdom as a matter of secondary importance. But one sermon cost him as much labour, and study, and anxiety, as most clergymen's two. His preaching, also, had the high qualification of being addressed to the affections of his flock, and not to its fears and interests. He constantly reminded us of God's love , and of the beauty of holiness; while I do not remember to have heard him allude half a dozen times in his life to the terrors of judgment and punishment, except as they were connected with that disappointed love. I suppose there are spirits that require these allusions, and the temptations of future happiness, to incite their feelings; but I like the preacher who is a Christian because he feels himself drawn to holiness, by a power that is of itself holy; and not those who appeal to their people, as if heaven and hell were a mere matter of preference and avoidance, on the ground of expediency. I cannot better characterize Mr. Hardinge's preaching, than by saying, that I do not remember ever to have left his church with a sense of fear towards the Creator; though I have often been impressed with a love that was as profound as the adoration that had been awakened.

Another calm and comparatively happy evening was passed, during which I conversed freely with Grace of my own intentions, endeavouring to revive in her an interest in life, by renewing old impressions, and making her participate in my feelings. Had I been with her from the hour spring opened, with its renewal of vegetation, and all the joys it confers on the innocent and happy, I have often thought since, I might have succeeded. As it was, she listened with attention, and apparently with pleasure, for she saw it served to relieve my mind. We did not separate until I insisted Grace should retire, and Chloe had made more than one remonstrance about her young mistress's exceeding the usual time. On leaving my sister's chamber, the negress followed me with a light, lest I should fall, among the intricate turnings, and the ups and downs of the old building.

"Well, Chloe," I said, as we proceeded together, "how do you find Neb? Does he improve by this running about on the ocean--especially do you think he is tanned?"

"De fel -ler!"

"Yes, he is a fellow, sure enough, and let me tell you, Chloe, a very capital fellow, too. If it can be of any advantage to him in your favour to know the truth, I will just say a more useful seaman does not sail the ocean than Neb, and that I consider him as of much importance as the main-mast?"

"What be dat , Masser Mile?"

"I see nothing, Chloe--there are no spooks at Clawbonny, you know."

"No, sah! What b'e t'ing Neb like, fel -ler?"

"Oh! I ask your pardon--the main-mast, you mean. It is the most important spar in the ship, and I meant that Neb was as useful as that mast. In battle, too, Neb is as brave as a lion."

Here Chloe could stand it no longer; she fairly laughed outright, in pure, natural admiration of her suitor's qualities. When this was performed, she ejaculated once more "De feller !"--dropped a curtsey, said "Good night, Masser Mile," and left me at my own door. Alas! alas!--Among the improvements of this age, we have entirely lost the breed of the careless, good-natured, affectionate, faithful, hard-working, and yet happy blacks, of whom more or less were to be found in every respectable and long-established family of the State, forty years ago.

The next day was one of great anxiety to me. I rose early, and the first thing was to ascertain the direction of the wind. In midsummer this was apt to be southerly, and so it proved on that occasion. Neb was sent to the point, as a look-out; he returned about ten, and reported a fleet of sloops, in sight. These vessels were still a long distance down the river, but they were advancing at a tolerable rate. Whether the Wallingford were among them, or not, was more than could yet be told. I sent him back to his station, as soon as he had eaten; and unable to remain quiet in the house, myself, I mounted my horse, and rode out into the fields. Here, as usual, I experienced the happiness of looking at objects my ancestors loved to regard, and which always have had a strong and near interest with me.

Perhaps no country that ever yet existed has been so little understood, or so much misrepresented, as this America of ours. It is as little understood, I was on the point of saying, at home as it is abroad, and almost as much misrepresented. Certainly its possessors are a good deal addicted to valuing themselves on distinctive advantages that, in reality, they do not enjoy, while their enemies declaim about vices and evils from which they are comparatively free. Facts are made to suit theories, and thus it is that we see well-intentioned, and otherwise respectable writers, constantly running into extravagances, in order to adapt the circumstances to the supposed logical or moral inference. This reasoning backwards, has caused Alison, with all his knowledge and fair-mindedness, to fall into several egregious errors, as I have discovered while recently reading his great work on Europe. He says we are a migratory race, and that we do not love the sticks and stones that surround us, but quit the paternal roof without regret, and consider the play-grounds of infancy as only so much land for the market. He also hazards the assertion, that there is not such a thing as a literal farmer,--that is a tenant, who farms his land from a landlord--in all America. Now, as a rule, and comparing the habits of America with those of older countries, in which land is not so abundant, this may be true; but as literal fact, nothing can be less so. Four-fifths of the inhabited portion of the American territory, has a civilized existence of half a century's duration; and there has not been time to create the long-lived attachments named, more especially in the regions that are undergoing the moral fusion that is always an attendant of a new settlement. That thousands of heartless speculators exist among us, who do regard everything, even to the graves of their fathers, as only so much improvable property, is as undeniable as the fact that they are odious to all men of any moral feeling; but thousands and tens of thousands are to be found in the country, who do reverence their family possessions from a sentiment that is creditable to human nature. I will not mention Clawbonny, and its history, lest I might be suspected of being partial; but it would be easy for me to point out a hundred families, embracing all classes, from the great proprietor to the plain yeoman, who own and reside on the estates of those who first received them from the hand of nature, and this after one or two centuries of possession. What will Mr. Alison say, for instance, of the Manor of Rensselear? A manor, in the legal sense it is no longer, certainly, the new institutions destroying all the feudal tenures; but, as mere property, the late Patroon transmitted it as regularly to his posterity, as any estate was