^ 
 
 
 «5 0* 
 
 V 
 
 s« A 
 
 ,* * 
 
 6 * t*. 
 -, ..... .0^ \' 
 

 
 
 ' ,o 
 
 
 .v 
 
 • ci^vTs.^. O 
 
 £>: «5^ 
 
 ^ 
 ^ 
 
 o > 
 
THE 
 
 LIFE AND ADVENTURES 
 
 OF 
 
 OBADIAH BENJAMIN FRANKLIN 
 BLOOMFIELD, M. D. c ;■■ 
 
 A NATIVE OF THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA, 
 NOW ON THE TOUR OF EUROPE. 
 
 INTERSPERSED WITH EPISODES, 
 
 AND 
 
 REMARKS, RELIGIOUS, MORAL, PUBLIC SPIRITED, 
 AND HUMOROUS. 
 
 WRITTEN BY HIMSELF. 
 
 ** gentlemen, the time of life is short : 
 To spend that shortness basely were too long, 
 Tho' life did ride upon a dial's point, 
 Still ending at th* arrival of an hour." 
 
 SHAKSPEARE, 
 
 w O England ! model to thy inward greatness, 
 Like little body with a mighty heart, 
 What might'st thou do, that honour would thee do, 
 fVere all thy rulers kind and sensible" 
 
 IBID, 
 
 Neither Vice nor Folly shall escape me. 
 
 obadiak. 
 
 PHILADELPHIA: 
 
 PUBLISHED FOR THE PROPRIETOR. 
 
 1818. 
 
76 u» 3 
 
 DISTRICT OF PENNSYLVANIA, to wit : 
 
 Be it Remembered, That on the twenty-sixth day of 
 January, in the forty-second year of the independence of the 
 United States of America, A. D. 1818, Edward Franklin, of 
 the said district, hath deposited in this ofiTce the title of a 
 book, the right whereof he claims as proprietor, in the words 
 following, to wit : 
 
 The Life and Adventures of Obadiah Benjamin Franklin 
 Bloomfield, M. D. a native of the United States of America, 
 now on the tour of Europe. Interspersed with episodes, and 
 remarks, religious, moral, public spirited, and humorous. 
 Written by himself. 
 
 '« O gentlemen, the time of life is short : 
 To spend that shortness basely were too long, 
 Tho' life did ride upon a dial's point, 
 Still ending at th' arrival of an hour." 
 
 SHAKSPEARE. 
 
 ** O England \ model to thy inward greatness, 
 Like little body with a mighty heart, 
 What might'st thou do, that honour would thee do, 
 Were all thy rulers kind and sensible." 
 
 IBID. 
 
 Neither Vice, nor Folly shall escape me. 
 
 OBADIAH. 
 
 In conformity to the act of the congress of the United States, 
 Intituled, *' 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 times therein men- 
 tioned," and also to the 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 au- 
 thors and proprietors of such copies during the times therein 
 mentioned," and extending the benefits thereof to the arts of 
 designing, engraving, and etching historical and other prints." 
 
 D. CALDWELL, 
 Clerk of the district of Pennsylvania- 
 
ADVERTISEMENT 
 
 OF THE PROPRIETOR. 
 
 I PRESENT to the American public the first 
 volume of the life and adventures of a particular 
 friend. It is a production which has little 
 more than eccentricities and good humour to 
 recommend it. Of this the author is fully 
 aware. He has made a feeble effort to imitate 
 the manner of Sterne, which has afforded such 
 general gratification. But he is fearful that he 
 has approached with more success to the faults 
 than to the beauties of that author. 
 
 The eloquence, the pathetic sentiment, and 
 strange humour of Sterne, give a gloss to his 
 defects which robs them of their real character. 
 If the morality and religious reflections which 
 are involved in this production, should effect a 
 similar influence, both my friend and self will 
 have reason to be satisfied with the event of 
 our enterprise. If we should fail, our con- 
 sciences at least will repose in the purity of 
 our intentions. 
 
 The author entertains some doubt and soli- 
 citude, lest some passages might be esteemed 
 indelicate, and produce offence. But the pro- 
 prietor feels that the work is wholly im- 
 pregnable on this score. There are so many 
 
IV 
 
 precedents to sanction them, that to condemn 
 them would be fastidious, and falsely modest. 
 He would refer the captious to works whose 
 literary distinction is of the first rank. 
 
 The critic will raise some objections in re- 
 gard to the style. But the inelegancies are 
 such only when viewed apart from the genius 
 of the composition. It has been the object of 
 the author to be irregular, and not of the usual 
 order, to employ an uncommon location of 
 words, to coin words, to originate novel arrange- 
 ments of them — to construct a form of phrase 
 and sentence of his own. If he has divested 
 himself of the sober, fashionable, and trite and 
 habitual mode of expression, he has done so 
 with intentions to please, without the slightest 
 wish to commit any violation of the laws of 
 taste. 
 
 The publication of the other volumes de- 
 pends exclusively on the reception this meets 
 with. 
 
 My friend would have published the work in 
 England, where he was four months since ; but 5 
 for a variety of reasons, he has preferred the 
 press of his native soil. 
 
 THE PROPRIETOR. 
 
 Mirch, 1817. 
 
PREFACE 
 
 AN irresistible " cacoethes scribendi" has 
 again overtaken me, and write I must — but — > 
 what? "That — that — is the question." Shall 
 it be a play ? Alas — No I Several years have 
 elapsed since I broke my inkstand, and cast 
 away my pen, in a fury, with a fixed resolution, 
 as I then thought it — never to scribble more — > 
 merely because I conceived and brought forth 
 a thing, which I had the audacity to christen — 
 a play ! ! ! 
 
 Now, had I o'erleaped the laws of nature, and, 
 with the aid of something very like the*Cassa- 
 rean operation, introduced into the world, in 
 verity, a bouncing boy, I should have been 
 prepared to encounter the maledictions of all 
 the female part of creation, old maids* excepted, 
 for daring to encroach upon their province : — 
 even though a giant, or a genie, or some other 
 outlandish animal, had planted him within 
 me!!! 
 
 But a play — a tragedy — such a tragedy ! 
 Melpomene have mercy upon us ! If all the 
 tears which were shed, on its first representa- 
 tion, could only have been gathered together, 
 I would forfeit my head for a foot-ball, had 
 they not afforded water enough to comfortably 
 float a seventy-four ! ! ! Ave— a seventy- 
 
 A £" 
 
VI 
 
 four of first rate tonnage ! ! ! It was accepted 
 of, with gratulation upon gratulation, by the 
 managers of Drury-Lane theatre : indeed and 
 it was — American reader — my countrymen ! 
 and the parts of the hero and heroine were 
 sustained by the great Kemble, and the in- 
 imitable Siddons, in their first stile of excel- 
 Icnpc • 
 
 Kind hearted Reader, 
 
 If you have any spare tears to shed, and if 
 you cannot muster some natural ones, you 
 can easily bring the goddess's lachrymal pow- 
 ers into action by applying a raw onion to your 
 eyelids — not to the eye itself, for that might 
 bring the salubrity of that very delicate organ 
 
 into jeopardy prepare to offer them up (my 
 
 great, great grandfather was an Irishman) as a 
 propitiation to its manes ! ! ! 
 
 My tender, unfledged maiden offspring was 
 clamneU — irremediably damned — and hurried 
 down down to Pluto's realms — " unanointed 
 and unanealed !" 
 
 « True 'tis — 'tis pity — and pity lis — 'tis true." 
 
 Was this barbarous act committed by the 
 numerous and, of course, enlightened au- 
 diences — " Think of that, master Brook" — 
 audiences ! — before whom it was, as the strol- 
 ling player said, enacted? Courteous reader — 
 upon the honour of an author (and why should 
 not an author be as honourable a man as Bru- 
 tus was ?), the very reverse was the fact : — - 
 they received my bantling as kindly as though 
 it had been the production of the immortal 
 
Vll 
 
 Shakspeare himself. Did not the whole con- 
 cern cry themselves into a fever ? And was 
 not at least a dozen deaths the consequence ? 
 By whom was the — dire — deed — done ? (For 
 not one (no not one ! ) still small voice from 
 the pit participated in it.) By critics, and hy- 
 percritics ! A plague on all monthly and quar- 
 terly reviews, say I, and William Gifford's at 
 the head of them. Those it was who murdered 
 my innocent and helpless darling, and con- 
 strained its distracted parent, nilly willy, to 
 weep o'er its mangled corpse. — For — not con- 
 tent with breaking each and every of its bones, 
 they stopped not in their savage career until 
 they had dissected its very heart out ! 
 
 I can no more the renewed recollection 
 
 .of my then sufferings is so poignant, as to 
 completely unstring my nerves, and the friend- 
 ly, sympathising grey goose quill — drops from 
 my feeble grasp ! ! ! 
 
 # # # -# # # 
 
 The first discoverer of stimulants and tonics 
 unquestionably merits deification. — For they 
 are not similar in their effects, learned or un- 
 learned reader, and whoever instructed you to 
 the contrary is a fool, and an ass, and a quack 
 — am not I an M. D., and must not I know 
 all about it ? To speak more plainly, the first 
 discoverer or manufacturer of brandy was a 
 monstrous ingenious fellow, for no sooner had 
 I partaken of a liberal dose of that diffusi. 
 ble stimulus, than " Richard became himself 
 again." 
 
 To put another play upon the stocks then, 
 would be, in me, the height of presumption 
 
via 
 
 and temerity and fool- hardiness, inasmuch as 
 it would, as certain as death, and taxes, be 
 smothered in fifteen minutes after it was 
 launched. To me, luckless wight ! as well 
 as to some others, whom I could name, if I 
 had not a fellow feeling for them ; it is forbid- 
 den to gather, laurels in the dramatic field — and 
 I am not at all disposed to pick up another 
 ninny hammer's cap there. 
 
 What then is to be done ? For something 
 must be done, and quickly too, or I shall 
 burst ! verily, gentle reader, I am at this pre- 
 cious moment, as much inflated, and with gas 
 too, but of a very different quality, as was the 
 frog in the fable. The most powerful carmi- 
 natives under the sun would avail not me. 
 
 Shall I write a novel to expel the wind ? 
 Worse and worse ! Our country is inundated 
 with such trash, and no printer in his senses 
 would purchase the copy-right, unless he had 
 predetermined on gaining a loss by the publi- 
 cation of it. A poem ? I have just under- 
 standing enough to know that Apolio never 
 endowed me with a spark of poetic Jire, and 
 as to attic salt — it would not contain as much 
 as is necessary to season a sand fly. 
 
 What a grand affair would it be for the 
 world in general, if every fool could be sensi- 
 ble of his folly ! some of our 1500 dollar ora- 
 tors, for instance, would be. as dumb as the 
 most dumb of the abbe Sicard's scholars ! I 
 charge you, however, courteous reader, to 
 keep this a profound secret, in deference to the 
 collected wisdom of our beloved country. — •■ 
 There's a clash of scandal for you ! albeit, as it 
 
IX 
 
 fe not only indecorous, but impolitic to intro- 
 duce such matter into a grave preface to a 
 most interesting — I shall know what betwixt 
 this and Christmas — I'll have done with it ; 
 and, cap in hand, do humbly crave the pardon 
 of such of our great men as may be modest 
 enough to apply it to themselves. And now I 
 trust I have made my peace — if not — I pledge 
 myself to go down upon my knees — in the 
 next edition* 
 
 il He chose a mournful muse., 
 Soft pity to infuse." 
 
 Dryden was nearly related to the whole 
 family of the muses. — But — for myself — 
 deuce take every mother's daughter of them, 
 for not one of them — even the most insignifi. 
 cant — will suffer me to claim kin as a thou- 
 sandth cousin I I have it. I'll kick every pet- 
 ticoat of them into the pit of Acheron, or Falls 
 of Niagara, or — suppose you name a yet worse 
 place, enlightened reader, and apprise me 
 thereof by the first mail, postage paid : they 
 shall be deposited therein with all dispatch, 
 and a gratis copy of what is " coming to come" 
 will amply remunerate you for your labour and 
 pains. 
 
 And then — what then? Why I'll stand 
 upon my own ground, firm as an adamantine 
 rock — or Mount Caucasus — or the Peak of 
 TenerhTe, or any other peak which may be 
 depicted to thee by a fertile imagination. 
 
 Be it known to all whom it may in any wise 
 that I am at last likely to be freed 
 
X 
 
 from my alarming flatulency, in consequence 
 of having made up my mind to write, 
 
 My own History ! ! ! 
 
 Yes reader — in sober earnest — My own 
 history. There is something feasible in that, 
 for my life has been, so far, checkered with a 
 variety of interesting, entertaining, and won- 
 derful events. One only thing appals me ! I 
 dread lest my character for veracity, which has 
 ever been unimpeachable, should be brought 
 into question ; because some of my most in- 
 timate friends, to whom I have recounted the 
 adventures of it, have shaken their heads — 
 stared at me, as Bonaparte did at the Prus- 
 sians, when they were finding their way out of 
 the wood into the field of Waterloo ; and 
 shaken their heads again ! 
 
 If therefore those who have known me from 
 my cradle, but who did not accompany me in 
 my travels, are of opinion that I have embel- 
 lished, and they certainly did, and do, think 
 so — what mercy am I to expect from the 
 American people, to millions of whom I am 
 utterly unknown ? it will but little avail me to 
 know that I am as guiltless of fabricating as 
 the babe unborn, when I shall have been gen- 
 erally designated by them — Munchausen — 
 number two. 
 
 Nevertheless, be that as it may, — as I must 
 either write or die, am conscious of my inno- 
 cence, and influenced neither by a lust for 
 fame, or an avaricious thirsting after money — 
 and, above all, as it is perfectly immaterial to 
 
XI 
 
 me whether hired critics damn my production, 
 or laud it to the skies ; I'll e'en put off my 
 little fragile bark, and venture upon the hazar- 
 dous voyage. This much is certain : I shall 
 please myself, and discharge, at the same 
 time, a duty which I conceive I owe to so- 
 ciety; for there is no description of it which 
 may not be benefited by an attentive perusal 
 of this work — provided I live to complete it, 
 which is extremely probable, my mind and 
 body being in excellent health, at this present 
 writing. 
 
 " A man had as well be out of the world as 
 out of the fashion." You have got a sort of 
 preface by it, tastely reader, and the way is 
 paved to an acquaintance with — a very queer 
 fellow — though I say it, who peradventure 
 should not say it. And now thou mayst find 
 thy way into the following pages, if it seem 
 good in thine eyes. Should they afford thee 
 as much amusement as thou calculatest upon, 
 thou will have gotten a " a Rowland for thy 
 Oliver." The re verse — and thou mayst burn 
 my book. By the bye, it will then be thine — • 
 and I can afford it. 
 
 ADIEU. 
 
THJ6 
 
 LIFE AND ADVENTURES, &c. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 An attentive fierusal of which is fiarticularly recom- 
 mended to all young mechanics, merchant's and gro- 
 cers clerks : in brief, to all the youth of America. 
 
 I AM a native of the present United States of Ame- 
 rica, and first saw the light in one of our capital cities, 
 which, for certain reasons best known to myself, and 
 in order to set you a guessing, inquisitive reader, 
 must be nameless. 
 
 My father was a master carpenter — my mother the 
 daughter of a poor farmer in New Jersey. They 
 were honest, industrious, and frugal, and married when 
 very young, as every body ought to do who duly ap- 
 preciates happiness and a good constitution. Apropos, 
 what is a rake and debauchee good for at thirty, if he 
 holds out so long ? Nothing. Even the carrion cvows 
 would turn up their noses at his diseased carcase ! 
 
 My father has frequently told me, indeed he glori- 
 ed in giving every publicity to the fact, that his finances 
 were in such a miserable state, owing to the peculiar 
 hardness of the times, when he was about to enter into 
 the holy state of matrimony, that he was necessitated 
 to borrow a coat of a friend, in order to make a decent 
 appearance before the minister who was to perform 
 the ceremony; and to whom he presented, as a fee, 
 ONE of THREE dollars, the sum total of his earthly 
 
 VOL. I. B 
 
cash possessions ! It must be recorded, however, for 
 the honour of the cloth, that he would not accept 
 of it. 
 
 The only fortune which my mother brought him was 
 — herself 1 It was of course a love match. They were 
 christians by profession and practice — the natural con- 
 sequence of their being piously and properly brought 
 up — and accustomed to hard labour and frugal fare. 
 They did not therefore despair of making their way 
 good through the world, and procuring for themselves 
 at least the necessaries of life. 
 
 After his marriage my father continued as hereto- 
 fore to do journey-work throughout the day, and, 
 when evening came, instead of resorting to a tippling 
 shop, which, I lament to say, was too much the custom 
 then, as it is now, with young mechanics, returned to 
 his humble home, comforted his stomach with a slice 
 of brown bread, and a glass of pure water, and soon 
 proceeded to carry into execution a plan — his confi- 
 dence in the success of which had induced him to 
 venture upon a rib. 
 
 There was one branch of his trade in which he 
 greatly excelled both as to neatness and dispatch, this 
 v/as — the making of window-sashes. Having pro- 
 cured a sufficient quantity of the requisite material on 
 a credit, and purchased a few candles, his day's-work 
 being over, and his frugal supper being discussed ; he 
 went spiritedly to work — his wife holding the light the 
 while. He stuck to it manfully until eleven o'clock, 
 and continued to do so every night, until he had com- 
 pleted a sufficiency of sashes for a large house his 
 employer was then building, and who had engaged to 
 take them of him. They were delivered — their price 
 paid him— he cancelled his debt for the material- 
 hurried home to his affectionate helpmate with the 
 balance, and threw it exultingly in her lap. He had 
 never been master of such a sum before. — It had been 
 hardly, but honestly earned — and, to make use of his 
 own words, " It was the sweetest money he ever 
 handled in his life." He was now enabled to pay cash 
 for his lumber, and persevered in his labour. Indeed, 
 this his first step to independence stimulated him to 
 yet greater exertions, and he regularly worked ope 
 
hour longer. — He soon found it would conduce more 
 to his interest to quit journeywork, and confine him- 
 self to window-sashes, and ornamental chimney-piece?, 
 which he also made in a superior stile. His character 
 soon brought him apprentices, and in a reasonable 
 time he leased, on highly advantageous terms, a com- 
 modious workshop. His industrious and economical 
 habits continuing, and Providence blessing him and 
 his family with uninterrupted health, fortune began to 
 smile upon him in good earnest. Satisfied with a very 
 moderate profit, he could afford to undersell his 
 brethren, and many of his mantle-pieces found their 
 way into other cities of the then provinces, some of 
 which are doubtless still to be met with in houses 
 built at that period. 
 
 My mother too was indefatigable in her vocatior % 
 for she increased and multiplied most abundantly, 
 presenting her spouse with a stranger at least once a 
 year. Now, to my thinking, this was pushing the 
 figure a great deal too far, for, what with qualms, anc? 
 retchings, and accouchements, much invaluable time 
 must have been unnecessarily consumed. What say 
 you, my fair married readers ? Is not once in two years 
 quite sufficient ? I am answered. Silence, when ac- 
 companied with a smile and a blush, is construed 
 affirmatively, even by the Hottentots. — Hottentots ! 
 Pray what description of people are they ? I don't re- 
 collect ever to have heard of them before. Your 
 curiosity is a very laudable one, my dear, and I will 
 cheerfully gratify it. You must know, then, that the 
 Hottentots are a sort of uncivilized copper-coloured 
 folk, more remarkable for their fiersonal cleanliness 
 than the most true of ail true mussulmen, or the 
 French, or the Italians ; inasmuch as they make it an 
 invariable rule — to bathe a dozen times a day — comb 
 their heads a dozen times a day — perfume them- 
 selves a dozen times a day — and, in brief, to do 
 every thing else, which is usually done by human 
 beings, in the same ratio. Moreover they are made 
 pretty much as we are, having heads, and legs, and 
 arms, &c. procreate in the same mannef, and worship 
 gods of their own manufacture. But you have not ex- 
 plained to us how they manage their love matters, 
 
which is a primary consideration with most ladies. 
 Fair and softly, beautiful madam. I admire to keep 
 your sex in suspense sometimes. I ever did believe 
 that you could keep, a secret as well as the very beat he 
 creature of us all, and why should you not be capable 
 of exercising as much patience as Job did of old ? I 
 see no substantial reason to the contrary — not I.— 
 Having premised that the Hottentots are an uncivilized 
 race, you are not to suppose, their extraordinary ablu- 
 tions to the contrary notwithstanding, that they conduct 
 in that all important and ticklish affair as we do, who 
 think we were the Almighty's chef-d'oeuvre, because 
 we are fair completioned, and now polished, and have 
 had our brains stimulated, or brought fairly into action 
 (sometimes) by more or less of cultivation. If you do, 
 you are egregiously mistaken, for, — love-making is 
 with them a summary process. Their high mighti- 
 nesses are above the drudgery of dancing attendance 
 upon their " Cara Sfiosas" to balls and assemblies, 
 and concerts and theatres — writing love-letters — 
 whining and sighing — crying and dying — on the top 
 of the tedder of hope in the evening, and at the foot 
 of it in the morning, and all that superfluous nonsense 
 — nonsense of our own creation. Believe me, they 
 order matters better in that country. It is merely 
 necessary for a Hottentot gallant to obtain his own 
 consent and go a wooing, and he is certain of taking 
 a wi£e to his Uosom the self-same night. 
 
 FORM OF COURTSHIP. 
 
 The youth resolved to lie alone no longer, rigs him- 
 self out in his best attire, borrows the youngest infant 
 which is come-at-able, repairs to the residence of the 
 object of his choice, presents it with a grin, after 
 making one of his very best bows, left foot foremost ; 
 and awaits his fate in silence. If his addresses arc 
 agreeable, his flame takes the child, eagerly kisses 
 that part of it which is sometimes denominated the 
 " coward's seat of honour," smiles, nods her head, and 
 then squats, body and all, as gracefully as does a hare 
 when he is disposed to put the hounds at fault. The 
 ceremonv is now over. She is bone of his bone and 
 
flesh of his flesh, to all intents and purposes, and he 
 may take her home to his cabin, nothing loth, as soon 
 as he listeth. Should she disapprove of his devoirs, 
 she refuses the infant ; shaking her head and grunting 
 as melodiously as ever learned pig did, until he quits 
 her premises. This, however, is a rare occurrence, 
 but \vhen it does happen, our Hottentot bears it with 
 all the sang froid of a philosopher — scratches his 
 noddle — reflects a moment — " Ecod," says he, " If 
 one won't, another will," and he goes the rounds until 
 some less hard-hearted damsel nods him" yea." There, 
 now, — you are as wise as Obadiah, and I'll e'en see if 
 I can find my way back to this true history. 
 
 My father soon began to realize property, and, as I 
 abhor prolixity and am anxious to finish one chapter, 
 lest an apoplexy, or some other outlet to life, should 
 stop up my weasand, died sixty-four years after he 
 commenced sash-muking, leaving behind him an un- 
 excelled character for piety, industry, integrity, and 
 
 sobriety and 
 
 SE VKjYTY TIIO USJNDPO U.YD S STERLING!! 
 
 Youth of America ! Here is an example, worthy of 
 imitation in every respect. — That you may be enabled, 
 by HIM who rules the thunder, and who, with a word 
 can bring back all worlds to chaos, to make a proper 
 application of it, and DO LIKEWISE, is the ardent 
 prayer, and unfeigned wish, of one who is a sincere 
 well-wisher to you and to all mankind. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 Obadiah pleads guilty to a charge of incapacity, which 
 must be made against him, by every being capable oi 
 judging. 
 
 THAT first of wits and humourists, Lawrence Sterne, 
 has somewhere facetiously observed, " Go to — go to—- 
 ye idle vagabonds of the world — build houses, rear 
 
 trees, write books, and get children —Endeavour to 
 
 leave some relative idea of yourselves behind ye — so 
 that if posterity should not happen to be sorry for your 
 
 b 2 
 
6 
 
 deaths, let them have some reason at least to be sorry 
 that ye had not lived." Already have I fulfilled, to the 
 best of my ability, all these " characteristics of man." 
 All, did I say ? I had momentarily forgotten my pre- 
 face, but I will not again disturb the ashes of the dead. 
 I have built houses, by firojcy ; planted trees with my 
 own hands ; and begat children — in the usual way, I 
 suppose, for one of my wives was a widow, who had 
 had one child, and who would, for her own sake, 
 have corrected me, if I had done amiss — and now I 
 have commenced author in sober earnest. Shall I live 
 to finish my book, and see it published ? Time will 
 show. 
 
 Good natured reader — I shall have to cry you mer- 
 cy many a time and oft, ere we part, provided always 
 nevertheless that we part friends — From me you must 
 not expect eve?i a sjnack of the sublime and beautiful. 
 My skull is too thick to produce any thing better than 
 a hodge-podge of truths, told without method or ability, 
 and in the simplest language ; with here and there an 
 episode, introduced for the purpose of keeping you in 
 good humour. I did not make myself, you know, or, 
 depend upon it, the brains department would have been 
 furnished in a superior stile. 
 
 I was born on the first of January, Anrio Domini 
 1770. 
 
 I asssert this as the fact because I have been fre- 
 quently so told by my father and mother, whose vera- 
 city I never had reason to question, and because it is 
 so written in the great family bible by the minister 
 who christened me. When I arrived at a proper age, 
 I was sent to an excellent grammar school, in a coun- 
 try town about 120 miles distant, the British having 
 possession of the city wherein my father resided. He 
 was a staunch whig, but unable from age to take an 
 active part in the war (he was upwards of sixty-four 
 at this time) ; but contributed four sons to the Ameri- 
 can army, and kept his purse-strings loosened until 
 cur highly-favoured country became a nation. My 
 capacity did not rise above mediocrity (thou hast al- 
 ready discovered that, intelligent reader) ; and I made 
 a proportionate progress in my studies. Happily 
 for us the academy was situated in a part of the state 
 
which was never visited by the* enemy, so that the 
 great work of our education went on uninterruptedly. 
 My father had set his heart upon making a scholar of 
 me, for two reasons. I was destined for the church 
 from my cradle; and his own want of learning, whereby 
 he had suffered considerably determined him to spare 
 no pains nor cost to prevent such deficiency in me. 
 To see me a minister was indeed his hobby. Often 
 would he tell me that " he could die contented and 
 happy, after he had heard me preach one sermon." 
 After I had acquired little more than a smattering of 
 my native language, my attention was exclusively di- 
 rected, by the principal, to the study of the classics ; 
 and at sixteen years old I had the reputation of being 
 an excellent Latinist and Grecian, and a tolerable He- 
 brew scholar. — But I had nearly forgotten my English, 
 and was withal so wretched a composer that even my 
 father was ashamed of my letters when he heard them 
 read, for he could neither read nor write. — And well 
 he might, for although I could translate literally, and 
 with the utmost facility, any Latin or Greek author, I 
 had never been taught to do so elegantly, and had never 
 been exercised at English composition. Nor is this 
 a unique case, for I now know several A. B's. who 
 can write their mother tongue, neither grammatically, 
 nor orthographically. " Obadiah will never do for a 
 minister," the worthy old man would say. " I shall 
 never live to hear him preach a sermon, for, if he writes 
 so poor a letter after all the pains which have been 
 taken with him, he will never be able to write one, 
 and I never wish to hear him preach one unless it be 
 of his own making." The minister, of whose congre- 
 gation my father formed a part, and who had baptised 
 me, was consulted, and, in conformity to his advice, I 
 was sent for home. 
 
 I was now the hope and stay of the family, being 
 their only surviving son. Three of my brothers 
 were killed whilst fighting for the liberty we now 
 enjoy — two had died of small-pox, and one had been 
 lately drowned whilst skating j unhappily finding bis 
 way into an air-hole in the ice. I was therefore calcu- 
 lated upon to hand down the family name to posterity. 
 
8 
 
 My father was very rich — an undue proportion of his 
 wealth was allotted for me, to the great prejudice of 
 three daughters, the only ones he had raised, and, I 
 lament to add, that wonders were expected of me, pro- 
 vided I could attain the art of sermon writing 1 ! ! That 
 it was indispensably necessary for me to be a decent 
 orator also, was never taken into the account. If I 
 could write a sermon — it was a matter of course that I 
 should deliver it well. A most excellent and expe- 
 rienced English tutor was provided for me, at the re- 
 commendation of my father's old and fast friend the 
 minister ; who was instructed to make an English 
 scholar of me, if practicable, and, above all, to teach 
 me the art of composition — a task for which he was 
 admirably well qualified, being himself a chaste and 
 elegant writer. 
 
 " It is needless however to kick against the pricks.'* 
 My tutor was indefatigable, and your humble ser- 
 vant studious, attentive, and industrious — but in vain. 
 He said they had either commenced with me too late 
 in the day, or the soil was too barren. After an un- 
 ceasing perseverance of three years (yes, three years !— 
 think of that, master Brook), he abandoned me in de- 
 spair ; and waiting on my parents, assured them, with 
 tears in his eyes (for he overflowed with the milk of 
 human kindness), that nature had never designed me 
 for the pulpit — that I was a miserable orator, and yet 
 worse compostr, but that, as I was a very hard student 
 and good classical scholar, I might make a respectable 
 physician. Had the earth opened before them and 
 swallowed me up, my excellent parents could scarcely 
 have been more shocked — grieved. — The darling par- 
 son scheme must be abandoned ! nature had set up an 
 insurmountable barrier to it. Many a time of a Sab- 
 bath evening, when a'one by their comfortable fire- 
 side, making their humble remarks on the service of 
 the day, — had my sire stopped short, and proudly said 
 to his dame, " Well, Deborah, I trust in God to see the 
 day when our Obadiah will give us as good sermons as. 
 we had this day, and all out of his own head too." 
 " Marry and Amen 1" would be the response. Judge 
 then of their feelings, tender-hearted reader, when the 
 dreadful tidings assailed their organs of hearing, if thou 
 
9 
 
 canst. For myself, I marvel it had not turned them 
 into stones. 
 
 All hail Religion ! Handmaid of Heaven— and dear- 
 est gift of divinity to mortals. At this heart-rending 
 moment a disciple of thine (the minister) stepped in, 
 and whispered comfort to thy drooping votaries. Aware 
 of every thing, he came prepared for the difficult task. 
 But the scene had become so painfully distressing to 
 me, that I could endure it no longer. — I made good 
 my retreat as he entered, and, with weeping eyes, se- 
 creted myself in an out-house. Perhaps an hour had 
 elapsed, when I heard myself called — most affection- 
 ately called — by my mother. I hastened to her, she took 
 my hand without uttering a word, and led me into the 
 room. I found my father tolerably composed — he took 
 me into his arms, pressed me to his bosom, and, after 
 bestowing upon me his blessing, spoke thus — " My 
 son, our beloved pastor has been ministering unto us, 
 and shown us our folly and wickedness — For nineteen 
 years have we been blind— he has removed the film 
 from our eyes — We must submit to the will of God, 
 and will endeavour to do it cheerfully — 'Tis true I had 
 set my heart upon hearing you preach a sermon before 
 I died — but — it — cannot — be — (here he sobbed most 
 audibly, my mother joining in the chorus), you must 
 therefore fix upon a profession yourself: we have de- 
 termined to allow you three months, or more, if you 
 require it, to make your selection. We took a scanty 
 supper and went all — sorrowing to— bed. Howbeit 
 I slept not. I loved my father most affectionately, and 
 adored my mother. It was therefore the first wish 
 of my heart to gratify them in every thing. I com- 
 muned with my pillow until nearly day-light (it was a 
 winter's night too, courteous reader), when a little — 
 feeble — glimmering light broke in upon my mind. I 
 hugged it as a miser would his dearest treasure, when 
 just recovered from a robber, and soon digested my 
 little plan. I arose at my usual hour, and appeared at 
 breakfast with so cheerful a countenance, that the fami- 
 ly looked at me with astonishment, but the events of 
 the preceding night were never touched upon. My 
 father retired to his usual avocations, as was his cus- 
 tom, immediately after he had finished his repast, when 
 
10 
 
 I told my mother I wished to speak with her in pri- 
 vate. She accompanied me into my study and I locked 
 the door. This preparation surprised her : " what's 
 the matter now, my son ? Why secure the door, when 
 your father and sisters are from home ?" * You shall 
 soon know, my dearest madam, provided you engage 
 to keep it secret." — " Certainly my dear." — " From my 
 father" — She hesitated " Your father and myself are 
 one, Obadiah — I should not discharge my duty if I 
 concealed anything from him." — "It must then lemain 
 buried in my own breast." " If it is proper he should 
 be kept in the dark respecting it, it shall die with me, 
 if you say so." " It is not only proper but absolutely 
 necessary that he, above all, remain ignorant of it ; of 
 that you will be satisfied when I reveal it to you/' 
 " Well then I consent." 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 a He had been a grievous sinner, but truly repented 
 him thereof." 
 
 THE excellent divine, whose rhetoric and influence 
 had produced such happy effects in our domestic cir- 
 cle, was a native of England — a man of astonishing na- 
 tural parts, improved by one of the best educations. 
 Being an elegant orator, a latitudinarian in principle, 
 and possessing a Benjamin's portion of impudence; 
 he conceived himself destined to make a figure on the 
 forum ; commenced the study of the law — was ad- 
 mitted to practice, and rising fast to great eminence in 
 his profession ; when he was converted to Christianity 
 through the instrumentality of his wife, and, in due 
 season, exchanged the bar for the pulpit. He had 
 married her some years before, and loved her as much 
 as it was possible for such a being, as he then was, to 
 love. But it was her fierson (she was extremely beautiful) 
 
11 
 
 not her mind, that he thirsted after; and being, rake-like, 
 soon cloyed with the possession of that, he unblush- 
 ingly returned to his former evil courses, and had the 
 cruelty publicly to keep her maid under her very nose. 
 She was an uncommonly sensible and accomplished 
 woman, and, fortunately for herself, blessed with one 
 of the most even and amiable tempers ; and, withal, 
 very prudent and pious. Neither was her knowledge 
 of human nature so limited as to preclude an acquain- 
 tance with one of its most undeviating characteristics — 
 a characteristic which should never be lost sight of, 
 more especially by young married couples. I will 
 give it to you, for your edification, in plain downright 
 English: " Most men may be led, but very few driven." 
 She was therefore perfectly aware, that a recourse to 
 harsh measures would snap the matrimonial cords, al- 
 ready tightened to bursting, for ever asunder. Her 
 heart too was deeply interested in the affair, for she loved 
 him most tenderly — was likely soon to become a 
 mother — and her religion taught her to tremble for 
 the fate of the immortal soul of the father of her child. 
 She consequently endeavoured to reclaim him by the 
 mildest means — but in vain. He was familiar with 
 guilt, and gloried in his misdeeds. It even afforded 
 him peculiar delight to scoff at religion in her presence, 
 and denounce the Holy Bible, pronouncing it the han- 
 dy-work of certain interested impostors and fanatics ; 
 and altogether unworthy of belief. She sighed — but 
 did not yet despair of his reformation, and continued to 
 drag out a wretched existence with him, until he 
 capped the climax of infamy. He seduced her only sis- 
 ter — the wife of his most intimate friend, and killed that 
 friend in a duel ! ! She was made acquainted — alas too 
 soon! with these horrid events — Her fortitude sunk un- 
 der such an accumulation of wo — she took to her bed, 
 literally heart-broken, and was conveyed in three 
 days to the silent tomb. Her abandoned husband 
 saw her die — his obdurate heart was at last melt- 
 ed. — In such a cause who could not be eloquent ? She 
 expatiated upon the heinousness of his crimes with 
 such force and energy — with power indeed apparently 
 given unto her from on high — that his proud spirit 
 was convinced and subdued. — He fell upon his knees 
 
12 
 
 beside her — wept like a child— conjured her to 
 pray for him — and solemnly promised to amend his 
 life. This assurance proved a balm to her wounded 
 spirit.— She joined her prayers with his to God for his 
 forgiveness. — Yes — for the first time in his life — this 
 wretched sinner prayed. But his wife's lamp of life 
 was nearly extinguished. — At the conclusion of their 
 prayer — ability enough was only left her to bless him, 
 say that she now hoped to meet with him in the re- 
 gions of everlasting bliss, and then — she rendered up 
 her spotless soul to Him who gave it, with such a 
 smile as cherubim and seraphim are wont to wear. 
 
 Never until that most impressive and heart-rending 
 moment, was he fully sensible of the inestimable value 
 of the jewel which he had lost. 
 
 To remain in England was, for him, impossible. He 
 fled to America : the Bible was his constant com- 
 panion on the voyage — by day and by night was he 
 engaged in the perusal of it. He prayed to God to 
 enlighten his benighted mind, and it was enlightened. 
 He became a convert to the glorious doctrines of 
 Christianity, and soon after his arrival applied himself 
 seduously to the study of divinity, under the superinten- 
 dance of one of our most eminent Presbyterian 
 ministers ; with a determination to preach the gospel 
 as soon as he was qualified, and satisfied of his own 
 worthiness to disseminate those tenets, an aberration 
 from which had been the cause of all his previous mis- 
 fortunes in life. He was ordained — soon became a 
 popular preacher — and deviated not from the way of 
 well-doing until it pleased the Almighty to call him 
 hence. 
 
 Go — sinner — and do thou likewise t 
 
13 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 A mountain has been in labour, and a (wee) mouse is 
 the product, 
 
 BLESS me ! I had forgotten that my mother and 
 self were embargoed in the study all this while. 
 
 There resided in the neighbourhood of the acade- 
 my wherein I was educated, a man of handsome pro- 
 perty, whom I shall take the liberty to christen " Me- 
 thod," and whom the spirit moved to become metho- 
 dist preacher. He was a man of no education ; but 
 unusually fine mind, and that mind carried him trium- 
 phantly through, for he was a most fascinating and 
 powerful preacher. What brought this man to my re- 
 collection I know not, but this I do know, that but for 
 him, I should never have solicited the private inter- 
 view with my mother. I would have given thousands, 
 for my parents' sake, to falsify the predictions of my 
 learned preceptor, and preach one sermon for them be- 
 fore their deaths ; there was something so innocent 
 and laudable in the wish. Now, courteous reader, in 
 the course of my nightly cogitations, it happened to 
 strike me that this all important desideratum might be 
 obtained, through the medium of my much respected 
 old friend Mr. Method. I should have informed you 
 ere this, perhaps, that I had been devoutly brought up 
 — knew the Bible almost by heart, and — what is still 
 better — understood and believed its contents ; points 
 gained of no small consequence to the furtherance of 
 my views. There were two " sine qua non's," howev 
 er, unattainable without the aid of my mother — leave 
 of absence, and money for my maintenance, books, &c. 
 —There now — you have my great and mighty secret. 
 I entrusted it to my mother on compulsion — to you I 
 entrust it — ex gratia. 
 
 My parent was overjoyed when I had explained eve- 
 ry thing to her, positive that all would yet be well ; 
 and pledged herself that I should want for nothing. 
 Leave of absence was accordingly obtained for me to 
 
 VOL. i. C 
 
14 
 
 go and visit my old friends in the south, and I was fur- 
 nished with more money than was needful. I flew, 
 youth-like, on the wings of the wind, to Mr. Method, 
 made him my confidant, and solicited his aid and coun- 
 sel in the premises. I was received by him in the 
 most endearing and consoling manner, applauded 
 much for my filial piety, promised every assistance in 
 his power; and told that "to write and preach a ser- 
 mon was no such difficult matter." You have had an 
 excellent education, continued he — Your voice is by 
 no means a bad one : indeed, to my ears, it sounds ra- 
 ther musically than otherwise — but I can easily per- 
 ceive, that you are diffident to a fault — That is a 
 stumbling block which must be gotten over, or your 
 project will fall to the ground And your preceptor 
 says, forsooth, that you will never be able to write a 
 decent sermon — I almost feel wicked enough to call 
 him a learned fool. Let me tell you, young man, 
 that a sermon for the pulpit, and a sermon for the press, 
 are two very distinct things. I have, blessed be God, 
 preached, with some acceptance, for many years, and 
 never yet published a sermon, and what is more, never 
 will ; for the production of a man who has not a de- 
 cent knowledge of grammar should never be printed. 
 But stay with me. My house and library are hearti- 
 ly at your service. In the latter you will find every 
 work necessary for a student of divinity : they were 
 selected for me by our bishop, who is as learned as he 
 is good. I shall also furnish you with his written in- 
 structions, as to the order in which they are to be read. 
 And we shall see what twelve months will bring forth 
 — the ban of your tutor to the contrary notwithstand- 
 ing: your shamefacedness, and your shamefacedness 
 only, militates against us. " Brief let me be.'* I 
 thankfully accepted of the worthy man's kind offer, 
 commenced the study of divinity, and, by the most in- 
 tense application, had made considerable progress 
 therein, when, the term for which I had leave of ab- 
 sence being nearly expired, I hastened to the city, and 
 obtained another furlough on some plausible pretext. 
 A few months afterwards T accompanied Mr. Method 
 to a regular methodist convention, which, fortunately 
 for me, was not held that year in the city wherein my 
 
15 
 
 family resided. I was introduced by him to the bish- 
 op, who was surprised at the progress I had made in 
 so shqrt a space of time, paid me a handsome compli- 
 ment upon it, and gave me a licence to preach. Had 
 he given me the mines of Peru and Mexico, I should 
 have considered the gift as poor in comparison with this. 
 Imagine now, good-natured reader, that thou seest 
 me ascending the pulpit of an humble log church, with 
 looks demure, and in the costume of a methodist cir- 
 cuit rider ; accompanied by Mr. Method, who with- 
 held not from me his countenance upon the trying oc- 
 casion. . Verily, I know not whether I stood upon my 
 head, or my heels ; no virtuous maiden ever trembled 
 more when led out to be married ; but my true friend 
 roused me from my reverie, intreated me to be com- 
 posed, and reminded me how much depended upon 
 surmounting my bashfulness. I read the psalm with 
 a faultering voice, plucked up courage as the service 
 proceeded, and happily called in something like confi- 
 dence to my aid, when I entered upon the sermon. 
 It was an orthodox one, written by myself, under the 
 direction of the man who had enabled me to preach 
 it ; and which I had carefully committed to memory, 
 being abundantly satisfied, that I was not yet adequate 
 to the task of preaching extempore. I got through 
 it — after a fashion. The audience, which was a very 
 illiterate one, pronounced me a mighty promising 
 young man, understanding that this was my first ap- 
 pearance in the pulpit ; and the venerable Mr. Me- 
 thod declared to me, when we were alone, that I had 
 exceeded his hopes. " All that you now want, my dear 
 Obediah," said he, "is confidence. Without it, you 
 will never make either an animated or successful la- 
 bourer in the vineyard. Every thing now depends 
 exclusively upon yourself. Learn to abstract your 
 thoughts from every tiling but your God and his servicei 
 and you will have gained half the battle. Habit must 
 and will do the rest. I charge you therefore to avail 
 yourself of every opportunity to preach and pray in 
 public. Volunteer your services whenever you may, 
 and my word for it, in twelve months every obstacle 
 to your becoming a respectable pulpit orator will be re- 
 moved," 
 
16 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 " The crop has arrived at maturity^ and calls loudly 
 for the sickle* 1 
 
 I CRAVE your congratulations, kind hearted rea- 
 der. By dint of hard study, patience, perseverance, the 
 aid of divine Providence, and Mr. Method, I have 
 been so favoured as to procure a license to preach in 
 less than twelve months — have actually delivered a 
 sermon, and that too of my own composition. 
 
 I now visited my parents, and reported progress to 
 my delighted mother ; but my father's time was not 
 yet come : another leave of absence must be had first. 
 How to obtain this was the question ? My proceed- 
 ings for the last year were enveloped in a robe of 
 mystery, whereat that parent was highly dissatisjied 9 
 whose wishes were never, no never, even for a mo- 
 ment, absent from my thoughts. He had long since 
 imbibed a notion that I had been stricken by an arrow 
 from Cupid's bow, somewhere in the neigbourhood of 
 the academy — that I was sensible I had fixed my af- 
 fections upon an unworthy, or objectionable object ; 
 but had not self-controul enough to tear myself away 
 from her allurements. Else why not divulge her 
 name, and solicit my parents' consent to our union ? 
 The boy knows, he would say, that I am friendly to 
 early marriages, and would deny him nothing : he 
 must therefore have some very substantial reason for 
 holding his tongue. (I have, father, if you knew but 
 all.) In vain would my mother assure him that she 
 knew in what manner my time was employed — that 
 no fair damsel held my heart in thraldom, and that an 
 undue proportion of the time had been devoted to stu- 
 dy. As the nature of those studies was unexplained 
 tp him, he continued obstinate and cross, declaring he 
 would withhold his consent to my quitting the pater- 
 nal roof again, unless a full disclosure was made him. 
 Conjugal affection however rose superior, at length, 
 to every difficulty. I promised him that there should 
 
17 
 
 be no concealments after my return — had six months 
 more allowed me, and found my way once more to 
 the hospitable mansion of the benevolent methodist. 
 I now became an indefatigable circuit rider, having, 
 through his interest, an extensive one allotted me, and 
 preached upon all occasions, frequently as many as 
 five sermons in a week ; soon acquired the confidence 
 necessary, and, my every attention being directed to 
 that one point, the art of preaching extempore. Mat- 
 ters were now ripe for the denouement of the drama. 
 I accordingly repaired to Mr. Method's, and prayed him 
 to accompany me to the place of my nativity. He readily 
 consented, our plot was arranged, and I travelled incog. 
 Arrived, I visited my mother by stealth, and engaged 
 her to prevail upon my father to accompany her to a 
 methodist church, which I named, the next Sabbath 
 evening. He gave a very reluctant consent, for, al- 
 though perfectly amiable in other respects, he was so 
 bigoted that he did not consider it correct to worship 
 God publicly beyond the pale of his own church. Par- 
 don him, religious reader, we are none of us faultless, 
 and I have already told you that he was an uneducated, 
 and, consequently, an ignorant man. My tutor, and 
 the minister, a sketch of whose biography I some time 
 since gave you ; were drawn in to join the party, in 
 consequence of my mother's apprising them, that a 
 young man under twenty-one years of age was to per- 
 form divine service. 
 
 And now the important evening, big with the fate of 
 parson, and carpenter Bloomfield, had arrived ! It 
 was in the month of May, the weather delightful, 
 and the moon shining with unclouded brightness. I 
 repaired early to church, Mr. Method with me, who 
 was well known to the congregation, and whom they 
 all loved and respected. You might have heard a pin 
 drop as we traversed the aisle, arm in arm, and ascend- 
 ed the pulpit. Indeed the contrast betwixt my youth 
 and his age, his hoary locks and my auburn ones, was 
 irresistibly striking. The door being closed, he im- 
 portuned me to use my utmost to command my feel- 
 ings. If you suffer yourself to be overcome by them — 
 all is lost 1 Shortly after my father, mother, and 
 friends, made their appearance — I noticed them as 
 c 2 
 
18 
 
 they entered the church, which was now full to over- 
 flowing : — It was a most trying moment — The pen of 
 Shakspeare could not describe the agitation I under- 
 went — My friend comforted and encouraged me — I 
 made a great effort, and commenced ! ! \ Although 
 my father's was a green old age, the result of tempe- 
 rance, exercise, and a well spent life, his eyes had fail- 
 ed him much. This, together with my being so dif- 
 ferently attired from what he had ever seen me, pre- 
 vented him from immediately recognising my person. 
 My mother however told me afterwards, that he whis- 
 pered to her before I had read ten lines, " that I read 
 very much like Obadiah ;" a circumstance which 
 drew to me the whole of his attention Having tho- 
 roughly recovered from my confusion, I regained my 
 confidence, exerted myself to the uttermost, and my 
 voice being extremely powerful, and, peradventure, a 
 liitle musical ; I think I put up a more impressive 
 prayer to the throne of Grace than ever I had done be- 
 fore. It was the chapter in the bible which betrayed 
 me to my father, my reading was so familiar to him. 
 My mother could scarcely now detain him in his seat ; 
 she entreated him not to disturb the congregation ; 
 confessed that it was myself, and that she had been 
 privy to every thing. The text which I had selected 
 for that evening's discourse was, " In my Father's 
 house there are many mansions." I had written it 
 several months before, and had already delivered it a 
 dozen times. I now began to preach (without ranting, 
 and raving, and putting the pulpit cushion in jeopar- 
 dy, as very many worthy methodist ministers do, and 
 believe it is all for the glory of God), was abundantly 
 animated, felt the force of the doctrines which I incul- 
 cated, and, in my application, endeavoured to sum up 
 my arguments to the conviction of every one. It was 
 concluded — human nature could forbear no longer ! 
 My father uttered a loud shout — cried out — "He is 
 my son ! He is my son J" and fainted in the arms of 
 the equally astonished, but not as much affected minis- 
 ter and tutor. In an instant I was with the authors of 
 my being. My beloved parent soon recovered. There 
 was not a dry eye in the holy house. But I must let 
 fall a curtain over the scene ! ! ! 
 
19 
 
 After our company had retired, Mr. Method, always 
 himself, desired the congregation to remain. He per- 
 ceived that their curiosity had been highly excited, 
 and he gratified it by explaining the mystery ; then 
 concluded the worship of God, and all departed in 
 peace to their homes. 
 
20 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 Bigots^ avaunt ! Or, at any rate, pass on to the next 
 chapter, for, upon my -veracity, ye will meet with 
 nothing in this which will give you pleasure, or repay 
 you for the time expended in the perusal of it. 
 
 THIS night was the most delicious of my whole 
 life, and yet I slumbered not. — My spirits were ele- 
 vated at least one thousand degrees above the sleep- 
 ing point. Perhaps a more happy family never en- 
 circled a social board than was ours at the breakfast 
 hour next morning, notwithstanding we scarcely broke 
 our fast. The table being removed, my father, now 
 as well as ever, kissed me and thanked me over and 
 over again, for the very great pains I had been at to 
 comply with his wishes, and that too after he had 
 abandoned them in despair ; (my mother had by this 
 time made him as wise as we were) ; and continued, 
 " I should now die in peace, my son, if it was not for 
 your deserting the religion of your forefathers and be- 
 coming a methodist. How came you to join the me- 
 thodists, my darling ? I had long since been acquaint- 
 ed with his prejudices, especially against that reli- 
 gious sect, and had anticipated such a result ; but to 
 argue with a man obstinately wedded to his ancient 
 opinion, and determined not to be convinced, is fearful 
 odds indeed ! — Had I not studied with a methodist, 
 honoured sir, it is more than probable you never would 
 have lived to hear me preach a sermon : you surely 
 have not forgotten what Dr. Harmony (the minister) 
 and Mr. Rhetorick (my tutor) thought of the pros- 
 pect ? — Certainly not, but I had much rather have seen 
 my Obadiah a lawyer — yes ! my son, a lawyer ; and you 
 very well know in what better estimation I hold 
 lawyers than a methodist. What reason had my 
 boy to change his religion ? — None, father ; I am a 
 christian still. Forms and ceremonies have no man- 
 ner of weight with me. A sincere christian must be 
 
21 
 
 a sincere christian all the world over, whether he be 
 a presbyterian, episcopalian, baptist, methodist, or Ro- 
 man catholic. Each has the same object in view : 
 they only differ as to the route most proper to be pur- 
 sued. Heaven is the haven to which they all direct 
 their steps. To Mr. Method, and his bishop, I am un- 
 der many and great obligations. It was through their 
 means that I became qualified to become a public 
 preacher : they procured for me the ecstatic delight 
 of the last night — but I am still as much a presbyteri- 
 an as ever, because I am still a christian. — You will 
 quit the methodists then, my child — become a presby- 
 terian minister — and prove a rock of comfort to your 
 parents in their old age ? I am bound by the ties of 
 honour to the circuit I have been serving six months 
 longer. — At the expiration of that term, I shall give in 
 my resignation to the methodist convention. My du- 
 ty to my parents will excuse me to the members of 
 it. But, if my mind does not undergo a total change, 
 I must then abandon the pulpit altogether. I have no 
 call to the ministry from above ! I feel that I am not 
 yet adequate to the task of living up to what I preach. 
 There is too much flesh and blood about me for that. 
 And unquestionably you would not choose your only 
 son to disgrace himself by requiring his congrega- 
 tions to mind what he says, and not what he does : for 
 an ounce of example is better than one hundred 
 weight of precept. Should it, in the mean time, please 
 the great and good Supreme to regenerate me, and 
 give me a due controul over my sinful passions ; you 
 will find me as melted wax, and may mould me into 
 what you please. If the reverse, I shall pray you 
 not to force my inclinations, but to suffer me to study 
 physic ; as I have long since had a predilection for the 
 medical profession. — Well, my son, so as you quit the 
 methodists, be directed by your own will in every 
 thing else. I have done, and bless God for having 
 bestowed upon me such a son. 
 
22 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 Alas — fioor human nature ! 
 
 AFTER preaching three times more in ■, my 
 
 enraptured parents always composing a part of my au- 
 dience, it became necessary for me to resume the du- 
 ties of my circuit. I therefore bid my friends a most 
 affectionate farewell, and took the road to it, for the 
 last time — with a light heart it is true, but with zeal 
 wonderfully abated. It had been a " sine qua non" (I 
 have taken up this phrase, American reader, and it has 
 become a special favourite too, ever since the learned 
 British plenipotentiaries found it convenient and ne- 
 cessary to throw it down at Ghent !) with me to preach 
 a sermon of my own composition to my parents ere 
 they retired to " that bourne from whence no travel- 
 ler returns" — and my pride, an honest pride I hope, 
 had been elicited by the occasion ; inasmuch as it 
 had been pronounced impossible for me ever s© to do, 
 by two of our most distinguished literary characters. 
 I had succeeded beyond my utmost hopes, and sighed 
 for no more honour in the clerical department. I 
 knew, nevertheless, that my congregations were anx- 
 iously expecting me, and determined to persevere, 
 
 even unto the very end of the six months. 
 
 Having taken the precaution to keep my resolution of 
 withdrawing from the ministry a profound secret — I 
 preached steadily on — became more and more popu- 
 lar, and, wonderful to relate ! acquired no small de- 
 gree of celebrity as a pulpit orator. Three months 
 of my six had passed away, when, in evil hour, an un- 
 looked-for, and dire calamity befei me, and which al- 
 most deterred me from ascending the pulpit more ! ! ! 
 
 Courteous reader! I claim your indulgence and 
 commiseration while I disclose it. 
 
 I considered it as a matter of so little moment, that 
 I have not hitherto told you, that nature had been un- 
 sparingly bountiful to me, as to personal gifts. Among 
 
23 
 
 the ladies, and they ought to be first-rate judges ot 
 male beauty, I universally had the reputation of being 
 a remarkably handsome man — And, as to external ac- 
 complishments, I was graceful in my movements, and 
 considered an elegant dancer — Played (divinely of 
 course) on the piano-forte and clarionett, and was the 
 best hy?nn-singer in my whole circuit. In fact, my 
 manners, conversation, every thing, were so totally dif- 
 ferent from those of the generality of my brethren, that 
 it is. scarcely to be wondered at that I should become 
 a monstrous favourite with the fair portion of my 
 flocks; — methodist girls having taste, and likes, and 
 dislikes, and feelings, as well as other folks. I had 
 frequently been led into temptation, but had so far hap- 
 pily resisted it — since I commenced the study of divin- 
 ity. I am no Roman Catholic, courteous reader, ergo 
 you must not expect a farther confession from me, 
 even though you should be Pope Pius himself. But 
 the time was now fast approaching, and I take shame 
 unto myself while I record it, when the outward man 
 was to triumph over the religion, morality, and self- 
 denial of the inner. 'Tis true I was very young — very 
 inexperienced, and in high health — but what does that 
 signify ? Nothing — nothing — nothing. 
 
 I was requested by one of my brethren to discharge 
 a part of his duty for him, some indispensable business 
 requiring his presence in another quarter, and — Luci- 
 fer must have so ordered it, — I complied with the re- 
 quisition. Whilst journeying for that purpose through 
 a tract of country which I had never visited before, 
 evening overtook me, or came upon me (aren't they 
 both vile phrases) in the neighbourhood of a decent 
 farm house. I, without hesitation, rode up to it, and 
 asked for a night's lodging. It was promptly granted. 
 I had hardly entered their premises ere I discovered 
 that the good souls were overjoyed to see me Had 
 the great and good Washington, John Adams, Benja- 
 min Franklin (my name-sake and god -father), and Na- 
 thaniel Greene, been her guests, the kind dame could 
 not have bustled more about, in order to set " her 
 things in order." Her husband did not keep me long 
 in doubt as to the cause. He told me "they were of 
 my persuasion, had relations in my circuit whom they 
 
24 
 
 frequently visited, and that they had occasionally heard 
 me preach" — with some additional observations which 
 my extreme modesty will not suffer me to repeat. 
 They had one only child at home — a daughter about 1 7 
 years of age, and named Mary. She was the most 
 perfect beauty I had ever beheld. Talk not to me 
 of the lily and the rose : the rose and the lily would 
 be as nothing, were they placed in competition with 
 the complexion of this wonder of t*he valley. Mary was 
 perfectly clean and neat in her person, and, withal, 
 much more tastily dressed than country girls, in her 
 humble sphere of life, usually are. I must have been 
 blind had I not remarked that she viewed me with 
 love-sparkling eyes, and Obadiah felt — as Obadiah had 
 never felt before. I have been since astonished that 
 her parents never noticed our frequent interchange 01 
 amorous glances, but I was a parson, and that consti- 
 tuted their security. The hospitable board was spee- 
 dily covered with the best their means afforded. I 
 partook thereof — but the bewitching blue-eyed Mary 
 was never, for a second, absent from my thoughts — 
 nor I from hers ; or I am but an indifferent physiog- 
 nomist. After supper, I went through the customary 
 religious exercises — but Mary — Mary — was one of 
 my auditory ; and I grudged the moments appropria- 
 ted to prayer, because they shut out her lovely form 
 from my organs of vision. (N. B thou knowest, pi- 
 ous reader, that when we offer up a petition to the 
 most high, it is fashionable to close our eyes as tight 
 as an ether bottle : I know of nothing more ridiculous 
 or indefensible — not I.) It was now time to retire for 
 the night. I desired some water for my feet : they 
 had a man and maid servant— but Mary was directed 
 to procure it, and wash them. In vain did I decline 
 the unexpected offer. I trembled to think of it. " Ma- 
 ry had, for two years, washed the feet of every minis- 
 ter who tarried with them : they always took care to 
 treat the honoured clergy with proper respect." A 
 foot tub was to be obtained. My host and hostess were 
 sleepy— they had sat up beyond their usual hour. 
 — They bid " God bless me !" as they separated. — A- 
 las ! alas ! could they but have read my heart they 
 would have pitied me, and— taken their Mary along 
 
25 
 
 with them. I retired to my apartment, leaving the 
 door open. — Mary soon glided through, and latched it 
 after her — accidentally , no doubt, for she did it without 
 noise. She is upon her knees before me — I can now 
 look upon her without dread of detection. The icy 
 heart of a hermit of ninety would have been thawed, 
 and he would have conceited himself nineteen. — The 
 washing proceeded but slowly. — It was a boisterous 
 night — a sudden blast found its way through the pine 
 logs whereof the house was built — and — the — candle 
 — was extinguished ! ! ! 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
26 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 The Enchanted Hat. 
 
 A BRITISH sailor, who had just returned from a 
 long and successful cruise, and was paid off, hasten- 
 ed to London, in order to rid himself of his hard-earn- 
 ed gold, which literally burned in his pockets. Jack 
 was a seaman every inch of him, and became com- 
 pletely miserable, after a three weeks absence from 
 his beloved element. In vain had he entered into all 
 the dissipation and extravagance of the metropolis, 
 co?ne-at-able by one of his class. His cash appeared 
 to be inexhaustible. His old habits now returned 
 upon him with such force, that to sea he must again. 
 Accordingly, he shipped on board an elegant brig 
 bound to a United States port (a general peace having 
 restored to him his freedom of will) and was ordered by 
 the master to join her at Gravesend on a given clay. 
 Jack continued his best endeavours to render himself 
 pennyless, until that day was so near at hand, that it 
 was impossible for him to be a man of his word, with- 
 out the aid of a stage coach. He however prayed to 
 Neptune for a head wind, and took it a foot — 'cause 
 why — he preferred the fiedestrial to the vehicular 
 mode of travelling. He journeyed along, solus cum 
 sola, until the dinner hour arrived, when his stomach 
 giving him some broad hints that it needed a rein- 
 forcement of timber, he stopped at the first inn which 
 presented itself, and called for the best dinner the bill 
 of fare afforded, a pint of brandy, and a bottle of port. 
 Not that Jack liked wine, but he had a cumbersome 
 balance in his pocket, which impeded his walking. 
 The waiters stared at him like stuck pigs, but stood 
 as motionless as though they had been petrified, until 
 hegingled his purse, which was still well stored with, 
 what an Englishman delighls to look upon — yellow 
 boys. There is no letter of introduction, or travelling 
 companioH, equal to the ready rhino. Jack was spee- 
 
27 
 
 dily served — eat and drank to his heart's content, adu 
 called for his bill. It was brought, and a pretty exor- 
 bitant one it was. He was about to discharge it, when 
 a brilliant thought struck him, and he requested to 
 see the keeper of the inn. Boniface made his appea- 
 rance, when Jack, in the fullness of his wisdom, told 
 him that he wished to pay him double. Do you see as 
 how, shipmate, this here is the thing — I am bound to 
 Gravesend, on a cruise to America, but have overstay- 
 ed my time in Lunnun, Now if so be the ship has 
 sailed, I mout be put in hockledy how to get back, 
 and my lower works suffer for want of provvijon. So 
 I wants to pay you double, and I means to pay every 
 body double as I goes along, and then I bes shure not 
 to starve when I travels this road again. But how 
 will I know you, in case the ship has left you ? enquir- 
 ed the landlord. Is that all, quoth Jack ? Here then 
 is my hat — when I calls, I'll put it on my left hand, 
 and twirl it thus with my right — once — twice — thrice 
 —and you'll be shure to remember me. The neces- 
 sary orders were given to the servants — Jack paid 
 double, and continued to do so, until he reached the 
 place of his destination, and found the vessel gone sure 
 enough. He remained in Gravesend till his last pen- 
 ny was expended, and then set out for Lunnun to seek 
 for other employ. On the road he overtook two sim- 
 ple Jew pedlars, whose exhausted packs required re- 
 plenishing, and who were travelling the same way. 
 They joined company in the neighbourhood of a turn- 
 pike gate, when the Israelites were not a little asto- 
 nished to find that Jack gave three twirls of his hat, 
 in lieu of money, for passing through it. One of his 
 inns was now hard by. He proposed to them to go 
 in, and dine. But " dey cout not refort dat — dey hat 
 sum goot pret and shees in deir packs, and voud tine 
 pun dat, and caul him ven dey hat tun." Well — in 
 goes Jack — dines sumptuously — chuckling all the 
 while at the astonishment which his fellow travellers 
 had exhibited at his novel mode of discharging his 
 tnrnpike fare. Having dispatched as much of the good 
 things of this world as he could possibly stow away, 
 he ordered them to be called. They had never look- 
 ed upon so superb a dinner before, and could scarce- 
 
28 
 
 ly credit their senses when he divided the better half 
 of a bottle of wine betwixt them. He then called for 
 his bill with as authorative a voice as though he had 
 been the prince regent himself — (I ask his royal high- 
 ness's pardon — Report says he is above fiaying his 
 bills.) It was produced — he gravely twirled his hat 
 three times. What's to pay now, you dog ? Not a 
 penny, your honour. Jack led the way to the public 
 road — the Jews following with uplifted hands ! ! ! 
 
 They proceeded onward until they reached another 
 of Jack's hotels, when, the severity of the weather get- 
 ting the better of the Jews' parsimony, they accompa- 
 nied him in, and engaged a bed, but wished no sufi/ier, 
 (The pack was to be resorted to after they retired, jo- 
 cular reader.) Meanwhile, our seaman was feasted— 
 shown to the best unoccupied bed in the house — break- 
 fasted in the morning — and three twirls of his hat set- 
 tled the reckoning. They pursued their march to the 
 great city, the enchanted hat rendering a purse un- 
 necessary for Jack, until they reached the last stage. 
 The pedlars had held repeated consultations by the 
 way, and the result was, that Jack's hat must be pur- 
 chased, cost what it would. They had already felt his 
 pulse on the subject, but he was prepared for it, by 
 what had incautiously escaped them at different times ; 
 and too cunning a bird to be caught with chaff. — His 
 last inn was now entered, and the same farce acted over 
 again : The virtues of Jack's beaver (by the bye it 
 was made of wool), had now ceased, and it would hare 
 been an accommodation to him, if otherwise situated, 
 to have parted with it for half a crown : but he well 
 knew he could replenish his purse with it, at the ex- 
 pense of the credylous Israelites, who would have 
 sworn upon the Old Testament, until they were black 
 in the face, that it could enable the holder to eat, and 
 drink, and lodge free, ad infinitum. They were now 
 within a mile of London, and the hat unpurchased. 
 A few minutes more, and they might be for ever se- 
 parated from this eighth wonder of the world. — rNo 
 time was to be lost. — They resolved to strike a bold 
 stroke, and offered one hundred guineas for Jack's 
 head-piece. He laughed the offer to scorn. This 
 made the luckless wights yet more anxious, and after 
 
29 
 
 a great deal of Juggling, a bargain was struck, where- 
 by Jack got oik- hundred and sixty guineas, and the 
 new hat of one of the circumcised (for he was too proud 
 to make his appearance in town bareheaded) ; for 
 property not intrinsically worth eighteen pence I The 
 money in his purse, and the new beaver on his head, 
 Jack took the earliest opportunity to dissolve the co- 
 partnership, by leaving our pedlars in the lurch, 
 they exulted as he departed, and were not a little 
 tickled at the idea of their having over- reached a chris- 
 tian. — They were now to eat and drink the best, and 
 pay no turnpikes, so long as they both should live.— 
 They made up their minds to seek the best house, 
 and take a fortnight's holiday. Their circumstances 
 and rigid economy had hitherto deprived them of the 
 luxury of a comfortable meal, and they would now 
 make themselves ample amends for all former priva- 
 tions — Yes — dat dey woud. It occurred to Moses, 
 however, who had rather more sense than his brother 
 Aaron (they were so named), that, as they were to put 
 up at the first hotel, and live as gentlemen, they ought 
 to dress as such. Fashionable second-hand clothing 
 was to be procured a bargain, and after their frolick 
 was over, they could dispose of it in the country at a 
 profit. They forthwith repaired to a barber's, and got 
 well shaved (for their beards had been in mourning a 
 twelvemonth), mounted tasty wigs — from thence bent 
 their course to Monmouth street — were accommoda- 
 ted with every finery requisite — cheap — cheap — dirt 
 cheap — fixed upon a hotel — drove thither in an ele- 
 gant hired carriage — engaged appartments for a fort- 
 night — ordered a magnificent dinner — and retired to 
 their sitting room, which was furnished with a pair of 
 full length pier-glasses. The coast being clear, they 
 viewed themselves in them, and were charmed with 
 their appearance; and well they mighty for neither of 
 them had ever before been master of a decent suit. 
 " Mine Got 1" said Aaron, " if mother Rebecca, and 
 father Levi, and aunty Ruth, and zister Rachel, could 
 only zee us now, how dey vould stare 1" " Yes," said 
 Moses (who always bore the main chance in mind), 
 44 and tink dat we vas frittring way all our substance, 
 but dey cant no bout de hat, broder Aaron. I cud die 
 d 2 
 
30 
 
 vid lafing ven I tink of dat foolman of a sailor to zell 
 such a treasure/' Don't you think it is time, courte- 
 ous reader, that I should conclude this ridiculous sto* 
 ry ? Suffice it to say then, that they lived upon the 
 fat of the land for the fortnight, and then determined 
 to go to work again Indeed, they could not relish a 
 life of idleness, having never been accustomed to it. 
 Their bill was asked for. It amounted to the trifling 
 sum of sixty-five guineas — but they possessed the hat, 
 and would not take the trouble to examine the items. 
 The woollen beaver was twirled, and twirled, and 
 twirled again. Veil, sir (to the landlord), vat do 
 ve owes you now — ha ? Sixty-five guineas, gentle- 
 men, as per account rendered. Oh my goot Got I 
 said Aaron, and their countenances lengthened at 
 least a yard by the square. But stop, Moshis — may 
 pe you an't tun it rite. Gif me de hat. And he 
 twirled to no better purpose. The patience of their 
 host was soon exhausted, and when he discovered 
 that the hat was expected to pay for all, he consi- 
 dered his boarders as swindlers, and became outra- 
 geous. His money, or a jail, with a prosecution un- 
 der the swindling act, were the only alternatives he 
 offered for their consideration. They had already 
 tasted of the sweets of Newgate, and at the bare men- 
 tion of it, the hair upon their heads bristled up, " like 
 quills upon the fretted porcupine !" They were yet 
 masters of three hundred guineas, they produced 
 their hoard, discharged the debt, and narrowly escap- 
 ed being kicked out of doors. They were proceed- 
 ing on foot to Duke's place with all expedition, for 
 a carriage was no more to be thought of ; when 
 passing by a fashionable reading room, and hearing 
 repeated bursts of laughter issue therefrom — curi- 
 osity prompted them to walk in. Assuredly their 
 evil genius directed them thitherward. For Jack 
 had blabbed — the hoax he put upon them, had found 
 its way into the News, and had occasioned the 
 boisterous merriment which attracted their atten- 
 tion. They retreated, overwhelmed with confusion, 
 saying the one to the other, with Smollet's Gambler 
 (they had read Peregrine Pickle, I suppose), " A 
 tam bite by — . ! ! ! 
 
31 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 It is possible to commit a sin whilst we believe that 
 we are acting right. 
 
 " I WILL do any thing in the world to oblige a 
 minister," said the simple and unenlightened, but not 
 vicious Mary. This observation excited suspicion. 
 She was questioned on the subject, and unknowing of 
 art, and unconscious of crime, she readily acknow- 
 ledged that she had before washed the feet of several 
 ministers, in the self same style I What a mountain 
 
 did this remove from the breast of somebody 1 
 
 would he were nameless. 
 
 And who was to blame for all this, philanthropic 
 reader ? Not the poor Mary, nor yet her illiterate 
 parents, who considered their daughter as safe with a 
 minister as she would have been with a sister. Oba- 
 diah must then be in fault. — He pleads " not guilty'* 
 to the charge. He was exposed to a very great temp- 
 tation ; such a temptation 1 was a poor, frail, weak, 
 sinner, and could not withstand it. Nobody is to 
 blame then. True : but there is something rotten 
 somewhere. Like the odious and profligate custom 
 of bundling, which is still too prevalent in certain parts 
 of several of our states ; it is to be exclusively as- 
 cribed to the want of education, and a total ignorance of 
 the world, in all the parties. More of this anon. If 
 you behave handsomely, I may favour you with a 
 chapter on bundling before I have done. 
 
 I met my kind entertainers at breakfast the next 
 morning, but oh ! how changed from what I was the 
 night before 1 I felt that I had wronged them, according 
 to my ideas of right, however unintentionally, and knew 
 that I had polluted the sacred order to which I belong- 
 ed : indeed I almost considered myself as unworthy to 
 ask a blessing I As soon afterwards as decency per- 
 mitted, I hurried from the enchanting syren who had 
 robbed me of my repose ; and proceeded to fulfil my 
 
32 
 
 engagement. Little did I imagine at this period, that 
 before three months I should be so lost as to commit 
 
 one of the most heinous sins adultery ! Start not, 
 
 I beseech you, my chaste and modest readers, but hear 
 me out — and then censure me, as much as you will. 
 
 There resided in my circuit a young gentleman, 
 possessed of a large fortune, and — no religion. He had 
 been two years married to an accomplished and lovely 
 woman, and common fame said they did not live hap- 
 pily together, which is not at all surprising, for he was 
 a most abandoned libertine. About a twelvemonth 
 after he had plighted his faith to her at the altar, he 
 deliberately seduced the only daughter of one of the 
 pillars of our church, a man of high standing and great 
 respectability. He went farther — for, not content with 
 despoiling her of her virgin treasure, he, after becom- 
 ing tired of her, endeavoured to prevail upon her to 
 accept of a friend in his room. She had several bro- 
 thers who vowed vengeance against him, but they were 
 religious young men, opposed to duelling from princi- 
 ple, and meant to content themselves with giving him 
 a severe castigation the first time they met him in pub- 
 lic. They apprised him of this their determination, 
 but he notwithstanding had the audacity to appear at a 
 review of the regiment to which they belonged, rely- 
 ing on his pistols for protection. They attacked him, 
 he fired upon them without effect, was overcome, se- 
 verely beaten, and afterwards conveyed to a neighbour- 
 ing river, wherein they were ducking him, when I 
 providentially rode up. Common humanity induced 
 me to interfere in his behalf, for he was evidently so 
 much exhausted, that he could not have survived such 
 discipline much longer. I told the patty so who were 
 busied with him, and they immediately desisted. 
 When he recovered the faculty of speech, he tender- 
 ed me his grateful acknowledgments for having saved 
 his life, and beseeched me to accompany him home, 
 observing he had no friend upon the ground, myself 
 excepted, and was sure he would need assistance by 
 the way. He denominated me " his friend," I pre- 
 sume, because I had proved one in his need, for I had 
 no acquaintance with him ; but to such an appeal, my 
 heart could ne'er say " nay." I despatched one of his, 
 
33 
 
 servants for his family physician, aided in getting him 
 into his carriage, seated myself beside him, and sup- 
 ported him to his residence, for he was unable to sit 
 up alone. The physician arrived almost as soon as 
 we did ; he was abundantly bled, put to bed, and some 
 medicine administered to him. Upon me — Obadiah 
 — then devolved the christian-like task of administer- 
 ing comfort to the partner of his bed — I had previous- 
 ly been introduced to her as his preserver, and found 
 her " fairer than painting can express, or youthful po- 
 ets (or methodist parsons either) fancy when they love." 
 But she needed not consolation (had he been brought 
 home a cors«, she might indeed have shed some tears, 
 but they would have been tears of joy !) ; and stop- 
 ping me short, desired the pleasure of my company 
 in the parlour. When there, she apologised in the 
 sweetest manner imaginable for having interrupted 
 me, thanked me for my good intention. — " But I am 
 no hypocrite," said she, " I should despise myself if I 
 was : that man, whom it is my misfortune to call hus- 
 band, is unworthy my respect, much less my esteem 
 and love. — To feign a sorrow when I felt it not, would 
 therefore have lessened me even in the eyes of the 
 servants : it is some months since. I was made ac- 
 quainted with the horrid transaction which has indu- 
 ced his punishment. Would to God it was the first 
 offence of a similar nature, committed by him since 
 our marriage : but until now he has escaped scot 
 free. Really sir, he is unworthy of your compassion : 
 It is impossible for you to conceive what a very un- 
 principled man he is. We will now, if you please, 
 wander from a subject which is peculiarly offensive to 
 me." Tea was soon served — I found her a well-in- 
 formed and charming companion: such a one indeed 
 as could not fail to reform any husband who was not 
 incorrigible. I have rarely spent so agreeable an eve- 
 ning, and lamented when the clock announced the ne- 
 cessity of my separating from her for the night. I 
 retired to rest, perfectly satisfied with myself. I be- 
 lieved myself instrumental in saving the life of a fel- 
 low-creature : I prayed to our Maker that he might 
 be made to see the error of his way — Mary was for- 
 gotten — and my slumbers were the slumbers of tr^s 
 righteous. 
 
34 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 " A Serfient lurks beneath the Roses." 
 
 I SLEPT unusually late the next morning, awoke in 
 high spirits, dressed myself, and repaired to the cham- 
 ber of Mr. — . He was stiff and sore from his 
 
 bruises, and had some fever, but was altogether much 
 better than I expected to find him. He greeted me 
 as his guardian angel and benefactor — vowed he would 
 divide his estate with me, and insisted upon my re- 
 maining with him until he was perfectly recovered — 
 business, or no business, he positively would take no 
 denial. It was Tuesday ; I had no professional en- 
 gagement until the ensuing Sunday, and at length 
 consented, nothing loth, to be his guest during the in- 
 terim. I then adverted to his romantic offer of divi- 
 ding his fortune with me— assured him that any, the 
 least compensation, would completely do away the lit- 
 tle merit which was attached to the service it had 
 happily been in my power to render him, and moreo- 
 ver, informed him that the pecuniary situation of my 
 family was such as to place me far above needing, 
 much less accepting of, a compliment from any one. — 
 Your friends are rich then ? — My father is as indepen- 
 dent In his circumstances as he wishes to be. — And 
 suffers his son to be an humble methodist circuit-ri- 
 der ? — It is even so, my dear sir. — And what may your 
 salary amount to per annum ? — Not a shilling, for I 
 draw none : my father allows me more cash than I 
 know what to do with. — Did not I always tell you Lou- 
 isa (directing his discourse to his wife) that I was sure 
 
 parson was a gentleman in disguise ? " You 
 
 did." I could have sworn to it the first time I saw 
 you walk, and heard you preach. Your manner and 
 action in the pulpit, and the language you made use 
 of, were entirely out of the common methodist track. 
 Well, well, I am truly glad to find that you are a 
 gentleman (my father's money instantaneously trans- 
 
35 
 
 formed me into one, you perceive, discerning reader), 
 and hope to see you in the garb which befits your sta- 
 tion, as soon as you become tired of your singular fro- 
 lick. — I could have told him that he might be gra- 
 tified in that respect in less than a month, but his cha- 
 racter precluded a wish to cultivate his acquaintance, 
 or treat him with more than common civility. His 
 wife was the magnet that bound me to his mansion. 
 In truth she was the most fascinating creature I had 
 ever set eyes upon. Her personal attractions were 
 her least charm. She was all mind, and when her 
 soul spoke out of her eyes, he must have been more 
 than mortal who could have withstood the shock. 
 Gods ! I now, for the first time, discovered the great 
 and mighty difference betwixt desire and love. Ne- 
 ver before had the son of Venus fairly planted an ar- 
 row in my bosom, and it was a triply barbed one, for 
 never to this hour lias it lost its hold. — Nevertheless — 
 she was the wife of another — the unhappy consort of 
 a wretch who deserved her not — but not a whit the 
 less his wife for all that. I bore this constantly in 
 mind, endeavoured to stem a torrent which was carry- 
 ing every thing before it — and resolved to think no 
 more of her, but as a beloved friend. The prudent 
 reader will say that, when I found myself in such im- 
 minent danger, I should have torn myself away from 
 her. I once essayed to do so, but the effort proved a- 
 bortive. The mischievous deity had made a prisoner 
 of me, and, despot like, withheld from me the privilege 
 of a parole. I had often before heard of love at first 
 sight, but had considered it as visionary, and was now 
 punished for my want of faith. We were alone to- 
 gether in the drawing room shortly after, when the 
 object of my adoration, the matchless Louisa, was par- 
 ticular in her enquiries touching my family, and here, 
 to my shame be it recorded — I sunk the fact of my 
 father's being a mechanic ; contenting myself with 
 stating that he was a very rich man, and proposed set- 
 tling one hundred thousand dollars upon me as soon as 
 I became of age. I also made her acquainted with 
 such parts of my history as would bear telling ; which 
 necessarily satisfied her that I was not a methodist 
 preacher from choice, and that in a very few days I 
 
36 
 
 should have done with it for ever : intelligence which 
 afforded her no small degree of pleasure, as she frankly 
 told me. Confidence naturally begets confidence. She 
 repaid mine by imparting her short story. Her family 
 was an ancient and respectable one. Her father had 
 been opulent ; but bad management, extravagant liv- 
 ing, and securityships, had nearly ruined him. She 
 
 had married Mr. , to please him ; it being the 
 
 first wish of his heart to see her well settled in life. 
 What a profanation of the term i That to marry a 
 rich man, or a rich woman, is to be well settled for 
 life I Her heart was perfectly free, and she could have 
 loved him, had he conducted himself towards her as 
 in duty bound ; for the man was handsome enough, 
 well informed, and extremely agreeable when he chose 
 to be so. But, so far from entreating her kindly, in 
 addition to other ill usage, he had repeatedly forgotten 
 her sex, and beaten her ! ! ! They had occupied dif- 
 ferent apartments for many months past, and nothing 
 but a decent respect for the opinion of the world had 
 prevented her from separating entirely from him. 
 Finally, her father's pecuniary difficulties had been 
 lately obviated by the acquisition of a large fortune, 
 bequeathed him by a brother, who died in the East 
 Indies. I devoted as little of my time as possible to 
 the sick man. Louisa was my constant companion : 
 we rode out together, walked together, dined toge- 
 ther, and, occasionally, I read to her in some favourite 
 author. The dreaded Saturday at length approached, 
 and, go I must. I had to preach to the largest congrega- 
 tion in my circuit the next day, and the church was 
 fifty miles distant. We parted : — a tear stood in her 
 eye, as I, in broken accents, pronounced the sad " fare- 
 well." But we parted in the sweet hope of meeting 
 soon again ; and that reflection rendered our present 
 privation the less bitter. I say, our; because I had 
 seen enough to satisfy, at least my vanity, that I had 
 not given my affections to the winds. I had promised 
 to return immediately after my twelve months' servi- 
 tude expired. When two little weeks more ha*d rolled 
 over my head, I should be freed from that engagement. 
 — Ah ! could I only have been endowed with the gift 
 of foreknowledge, and falsified my word ; how many 
 
37 
 
 years of pain and anguish would have been spared me : 
 nay, it is more than probable that retributive justice 
 would not have overtaken me. 
 
 The idea of soon becoming a citizen, and shaking 
 off the unbecoming dress of a circuit-rider, which the 
 " Mary affair" had rendered odious to me, and which 
 recent events had not contributed to restore to favour, 
 added wings to my speed ; and, ere the nightingale 
 began her song, my earthly part was safely deposited 
 
 in the tavern of brother , situated within one 
 
 mile of the church of my destination. I was grateful 
 for, but relished not, the rustic civilities of its master. 
 The transition was too sudden. — The polished society, 
 which I had just quitted, formed so great a contrast 
 with that of the rude boors amongst whom I found 
 myself precipitated, — that — faugh ! I dissembled my 
 disgust, retired to my repose, and — " Time is ever on 
 the wing," discharged my duty, to the best of my abi- 
 lity, until the halcyon day when I doffed my method- 
 istical coat. 
 
 There was a country town of some importance about 
 twenty miles from the church wherein I preached my 
 last sermon. Thither I, in all haste, repaired, intent 
 upon a transformation. It afforded one fashionable 
 taylor, — a merchant taylor, the animal designated him- 
 self. It was a " sine qua non" with me to visit his 
 warehouse. I selected such cloths as I approved of, 
 for coats, waistcoats, and pantaloons, desired him to 
 take my measure, and ordered them made up with 
 all despatch. Instead of proceeding to measure me, 
 he haughtily observed, that the commodities I had 
 ehosen came very high (I had been in too great a hurry 
 to price them) ; that money was very scarce ; that he 
 gave no credit; and could not see what occasion a 
 methodist preacher had for such elegant clothes. I 
 would have caned the fellow for his insolence, had I 
 not reflected that his carcase constituted but the ninth 
 part of a man. I therefore pocketed the affront, with 
 all the meekness of a divine, exhibited the state of my 
 funds, and offered to pay him in advance, provided he 
 gave me good and sufficient security for the punctual 
 delivery of the articles. He felt this, was all submis- 
 sion, and assured me, u/ion his honour, (think of that, 
 
 vol. i. E 
 
38 
 
 master Brook !) that every thing should be ready in 
 three days. 
 
 O, money, money ! what is it that man cannot do 
 with thee ? And what a poor devil is he without thee ! 
 It is ridiculous to speak of the merit of a man who is 
 pennyless j our world would not give ten dollars for a 
 ship load of such. But I have not time to apostro- 
 phize. 
 
 The all-important business of my dress having been 
 discussed in all its branches, I next procured an ele- 
 gant gig, with suitable horses, hired a dashing servant, 
 and my taylor, having proved himself to be a man of 
 honour, I was enabled to give my cast-clothes to a me- 
 thodist preacher who had not yet seceded, — who was 
 about my size, whose wardrobe was in a poor state of 
 health, and needed such a recruit. 
 
 Every thing was now in readiness for my contem- 
 plated and promised visit to Louisa. I am at the outer 
 gate of her avenue : have scarcely power to direct the 
 servant to open it — I enter her piazza — and — oh ! — 
 
 grief of griefs ! she knows me not ! ! ! I reflected 
 
 not upon the wonderful alteration which the honourable 
 taylor, the hatter, and the barber, had made in my ap- 
 pearance, — was disconcerted,— felt like a sheepstealer, 
 I suppose. And here endeth the tenth chapter of 
 the marvellous memoirs of Obadiah, ex-methodist 
 preacher. 
 
39 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 Short and Sweet, or Sour and Indigestible?— as you 
 like it. 
 
 LEARNED reader, you are a traveller of course ; 
 inasmuch as it would be a solecism in nature, for a man 
 to be learned who has not travelled. This is my theo- 
 rem: now for the proof. A fool will quit his native 
 land, — it is perfectly immaterial what land that is, — 
 and take the tour of Europe. He will return, after a 
 three years' absence, (mark the change induced by fo- 
 reign climes !) an amateur and a connoisseur, a petit 
 maitrc, cognoscenti, and the deuce knows all what. Er- 
 go, he returns a learned man. There's a syllogism for 
 you : beat it if you can. A prophet is no prophet, — at 
 home, — take my word for it: he must at least travel first. 
 ■—Now if this is not chopping logic, it was never chop- 
 ped threadbare in a certain great house not many hun- 
 dred miles from Washington. My theorem, proof, and 
 syllogism, are profound as a bottomless abyss, when 
 compared to some which have been sported there. A 
 man's theorem, proof, and syllogism are of some avail 
 though, when they obtain for him fifteen hundred dol- 
 lars for services, which, when rendered, are not worth 
 
 to any nation fifteen hundred . But, oh ! dire 
 
 mishap ! when, in endeavouring to secure fifteen hun- 
 dred dollars per annum, he loses six dollars, certain, 
 per diem, — what is to be done then ? Some of our 
 great men, who have withdrawn from the struggle, can 
 answer, I dare say. Learned reader, I have used you 
 extremely ill ; but you will not bear me malice, — 
 there's my hand ; shake it, and let's be friends. Have 
 you ever, in the course of your peregrinations, met 
 with a very convenient kind of creature yclep'd a 
 chambermaid, — lasses who will make a bed, and tum- 
 ble it, merely for the pleasure of making it over again ? 
 answer, aye. Heaven bless 'em, I say. 
 
 I so far recovered myself as to inquire if Mr. 
 
 was at home ? He was not. The setting sun, and no 
 
40 
 
 tavern being n#ar at hand, affording a plausible pre- 
 text, I solicited accommodation for the night. It was 
 courteously granted. I was invited into the house, 
 and instructions given to the hostler to pay proper at- 
 tention to my horses and servant. I am seated in the 
 drawing room, — my patience is almost exhausted. 
 At this distressing crisis, a smart chambermaid (who 
 had made, and tumbled, many a bed, I warrant her) 
 entered, gazed intently upon me, and recognized the 
 ci-devant circuit-rider. Why, la, mistress, is it pos- 
 sible you have forgot parson ? We were both 
 
 electrified ! Had decorum permitted it, I would have 
 given worlds for the privilege of casting myself at her 
 feet, and declaring the fervency of my love ; but I still 
 recollected that she was the wife of another, and the 
 reflection harrowed up the finest feelings of the hu- 
 man heart. Louisa was taken unawares ; her rigid 
 prudence momentarily forsook her ; she thought not 
 of our relative situation, and received me in the most 
 tender, — I had almost said, unjustifiable manner. We, 
 for the time being, forgot that there was an insur- 
 mountable barrier betwixt us and honest happiness, 
 and kissed and embraced as though we had been li- 
 censed so to do by the church. But this state of things 
 did not last long, we regained that sense of right and 
 wrong, of which we had been deprived by a delirium 
 of joy, and were overwhelmed with confusion. Poor 
 Louisa ! She now knew what it was to love for the 
 first time, but it was to love hopelessly. She had, 
 however, the satisfaction of being convinced that it was 
 returned with compound interest. It was, notwith- 
 standing, a night of general rejoicing; for I was a fa- 
 vourite with all the servants, having remembered, not 
 to forget to distribute a handsome largess among them, 
 when I left this hospitable mansion ; — for, if hospita- 
 lity is a virtue, Mr. certainly possessed one, and 
 
 that in a very eminent degree, as well as his wife. He 
 had perfectly recovered, was summoned from home 
 by urgent business, and not expected to return for a 
 fortnight- For a fortnight ! ! ! I was base enough to 
 remain with my soul's idol ; and, not having the fear 
 of God before my eyes, acted the part of a villain : in 
 a word, we — forgot — ourselves. 
 
41 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 " Henceforth, let no man trust the first false step 
 Of guilt. It hangs upon a precipice, 
 Whose deep descent in last perdition ends.'* 
 
 MY heart was not yet hardened, nor did my con- 
 science sleep. I could not look the injured husband 
 in the face. He was now momentarily expected. To 
 bid Louisa " adieu" was a task beyond my powers. I 
 committed my thoughts to paper, to be delivered to 
 her by one in whom I could confide — and — stole away 
 — like a thief — in the night ! 
 
 How mysterious and unfathomable are all thy ways, 
 Great Author of our being ! Had we but practised a 
 moderate share of self-denial, and been less precipi- 
 tate, our desires would have been honourably gratified, 
 and the crime of adultery spared us. For the fatal 
 barrier which divided us, and which we trembled to 
 think of, was about to be broken down by an immuta- 
 ble decree of Fate : ten days' patience, and all would 
 have been well. 
 
 In six hours after I left his house, I met the mortal 
 remains of Mr. , in a hearse, which was convey- 
 ing them to the cemetery of his forefathers ! ! ! 
 
 He had been keeping it up, as it is termed, for three 
 days and nights, when he was attacked with apoplexy, 
 and died almost instantaneously. Had the dagger of 
 an assassin been stricken through my body, my feel- 
 ings could not have been more painfully acute. I 
 fainted in my chair ! When I recovered my senses, 
 I understood my malady had been ascribed, by the in- 
 nocent byestanders, to grief for the untimely fate of 
 my friend. Honest souls ! They dreamt not that it 
 proceeded from the compunctious visitations of that 
 inward monitor, which unerringly points out to us 
 every deviation from the straight path of rectitude. 
 But Louisa was now — free. Celestial sound ! My mea- 
 sures were promptly taken : I was resolved that she, 
 at least, should have nothing to upbraid me with, and 
 2 E 
 
42 
 
 retraced my steps. When arrived in her neighbour- 
 hood, I hastened on before the corse in order to make 
 
 her acquainted with the tidings. She was startled 
 
 at seeing me — had evidently been in tears, but they 
 vauished on my appearance, as morning dew before 
 the summer's sun. She was greatly shocked when I 
 disclosed my errand. The deceased had been her 
 husband — she had injured him in the nicest point — 
 his honour, and he had been suddenly cut off, in the 
 flower of his days, with all his imperfections on his 
 head. Still she wept not— I — even I — would have despi- 
 sed her if she had He was interred with all the pomp 
 and circumstance becoming his — fortune. And I woo- 
 ed Louisa to he mine — honourably mine. She refused 
 me not. For obvious reasons, we determined to post- 
 pone the celebration of our nuptuals for six months, 
 and she was in the interim to reside with her father. 
 
 On examining Mr. 's papers, we were not a 
 
 little surprised to find that he had left her his whole 
 fortune, some trifling legacies excepted. He called 
 her, in his will, " his dearest dear Louisa." What a 
 strange mortal ! Peace be to his ashes ! 
 
 A regard for the character of my beloved by this 
 time rendered a separation indispensible, for even the 
 servants looked as though they suspected something, 
 and already regarded me as their future master. I 
 had also been absent from my most affectionate fami- 
 ly seven months, who had expected me to be with 
 them three weeks before. It was arranged that I 
 should remain a month at* home, then pay her a visit 
 at her father's, and be announced to him as the par- 
 ticular friend of her late husband. Necessity knows 
 no law — I tore myself from her bewitching arms, and., 
 in due season, reached the residence of my father. . 
 
43 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 My griefs are fled ! 
 
 Fled like a dream ! Methinks 1 tread in air ! — 
 
 Surprising" happiness ! ■ 
 
 Never let love despair ! — The prize is mine !" 
 
 TO say I was received as usual by my family, 
 would be to utter a falsehood. They were in rap- 
 tures at the sight of me — my father hung over me de- 
 lighted. " Well, my son, you have put off that vile 
 methodist dress, I see — and put it oft' for ever, I trust." 
 " I so promised you when we last parted, my father, 
 and you will find me a man of my word. I was sick 
 enough of it, believe me, before I had discharged my 
 debt to the Convention. Never more will I ascend a 
 pulpit in the capacity of a minister." Obadiah senior 
 smothered a sigh, and wiped away a falling tsar I 
 " You are now nearly one and twenty, my son. — Be 
 your own master from this hour. I could wish how- 
 ever that you would study some profession. It is true 
 you will have a handsome property, consisting of lands, 
 and houses, and money ; bnt there is nothing more un- 
 certain than all earthly possessions. A man is rich to- 
 day, and a bankrupt to-morrow. Even the most cau- 
 tious and prudent have had their pecuniary affairs 
 come to ruin. But it is not so with a profession. 
 Once a master of one, and you can hoard it up for a 
 rainy day. You cannot be deprived of it> unless it 
 should please the Almighty to bereave you of your 
 senses. But remember, Obadiah — I wish not that you 
 should do a thing which is disagreeable to you. I re- 
 peat it, you are your own master, to all intents and 
 purposes." " I before stated to you, dearest sir, that 
 it was my earnest wish to study medicine. My sen- 
 timents have undergone no change, and if it meets 
 with your approbation, 1 will enter upon it imme- 
 diately *' " It does, my darling — it does — next to a 
 minister, I would choose to see you a physician. Di- 
 vinity only excepted, it is the most, useful and ho- 
 
44 
 
 DQurable of professions. And, as your conscience will 
 not suffer you to continue to take care of the souls of 
 your fellow-creatures any longer, I conjure you to 
 learn how to take proper care of their bodies. It 
 must be a delightful occupation, to restore to the blind 
 his sight — the deaf his hearing — and the maniac his 
 re -son." 
 
 overed from the fatigue of my journey, I was 
 s . irtunate as to be received as a student, by Dr. 
 
 \y. ,, an eminent physician, and surgeon, and what 
 
 is better than ali, a most excellent man. There does 
 not live a better, for heaven be praised, he yet lives, 
 to heal the sick, enlighten the student — make his fa- 
 mily happy, and is, indeed, an ornament to society and 
 his country. I'll wager you one fivepenny bit now, 
 inquisitive reader, that 1 have already set you a guess- 
 ing what Dr. W it is that I allude to — and another, 
 
 that you have already thought of Dr. Cas/iur IVistar, 
 professor of anatomy in the University of Pennsylvania. 
 Perhaps you have hit the right nail upon the head. If 
 you are a resident of Philadelphia, you can easily re- 
 solve yourself, and should I win, you are hereby 
 required to pay two fivepenny bits to my fiublishtr : If 
 the boot happens to be upon the other leg, he will 
 settle with you on demand, for I am vastly particular 
 as to my debts of honour, as all men of honour are ; 
 else they would never think of discharging demands 
 fur which there was no value received. 
 
 My theological authors were now changed for ana- 
 tomical and physiological ones, and the log house pul- 
 pit-orator metamorphosed into an indefatigable student 
 of physic. I had opened a correspondence with my 
 Louisa, and heard regularly from her by every mail. 
 Her elegantly written and endearing letters solaced 
 my drooping spirits, and enabled me to bear, with 
 something like composure, a lengthened absence, for 
 she had changed her mind, as to the month, and forbid 
 me her presence for four. She dared not trust her- 
 self with me sooner, and wished to sin no more. And 
 she was in the right on't, as we had been not a little 
 apprehensive that a little Obadiah was about to threa- 
 ten to make his appearance upon the stage. It proved 
 
45 
 
 to be a false alarm, however, but it pointed out to us 
 the necessity of running no more risks. 
 
 After many struggles, I plucked up courage, and 
 laid open the state of my heart to my mother, suppres- 
 sing the fact of the lady's being so recently a widow. 
 She readily undertook to talk the matter over with my 
 father. He was well acquainted with the name and 
 standing of her connections, and charmed with the idea 
 of there being a prospect of his Obadiah marrying into 
 a grandee family ; for although a mechanic, he was 
 not devoid of pride and ambition. Who would have 
 thought thirty years ago that a son of sashmaker Bloom- 
 field would marry the grand-daughter of a lord, — ha, 
 Deborah ? We must not count our chickens before 
 they are hatched, rejoined my mother ; Obadiah thinks 
 she likes him, but he may be mistaken, you know. I 
 tell thee, dame, it will be a match ; — our lad is no fool. 
 I would not give a sixpence for a young man who 
 could not tell whether his girl liked him or not. Dost 
 suppose I was not sure of thee when I first went a 
 courting to thee ? ha, ha, ha ! We can tell, with half 
 an eye, how the land lies, unless a coquette's in the 
 case : the old one himself could not form an opinion 
 of what a woman will do, who has none of her own. 
 His consent was, of course, obtained ; and his will was 
 my mother's : for my father was a great admirer of 
 good old fashions, and was master of his own house, to 
 all intents and purposes. Can your better half say as 
 much, my pretty dear ? I really can't say, sir : it is a 
 moot point. 
 
 The four months, which had appeared to me as so 
 many years, went by at last ; and I was at liberty to go 
 whither my inclinations led me, — to once more visit 
 one of the best of womankind. My father contrived 
 to procure for me highly respectable letters of intro- 
 duction to her parent ; and, thus provided, I sat out on 
 my journey for Wheatlands, the name of his country 
 seat. Doubtless my horses blessed the hour when 
 they entered its gates, for they had a fatiguing time of 
 it. I was so fortunate as to find Louisa alone, and, if 
 possible, more enchantingly lovely than ever. Read- 
 er, if you have ever been in love, and had that love 
 returned, you must have felt, as we did, on embracing 
 
46 
 
 the object of it after a long absence. Had her father 
 been at home, he must have discoverer) our secret. 
 By the time he returned, we had so far regained our 
 self command, as to behave to each other as friends. 
 She had previously prepossessed him in my favour, 
 and I was most graciously received. I now delivered 
 my letters, the purport of which was far from being 
 calculated to depreciate me in his eyes; and I received 
 a most welcome invitation to make his house my home 
 so long as I chose to remain in that part of the coun- 
 try ; which was gratefully accepted. 
 
 It is impossible for a man " over head and ears in 
 love" so to act as to escape the observation of a pru- 
 dent and affectionate parent In less than four and 
 twenty hours he was satisfied of the nature of my visit, 
 and closely questioned his child upon the subject. 
 She confessed to him that I had written to her a few 
 days before, and that she had not a doubt but I would 
 declare myself her lover at a proper season — And when 
 he does, I foresee that you will not require a ten years' 
 siege But are you aware, Louisa, that he is the son 
 of a mechanic? I am (I had acquainted her with 
 this on her husband's decease) ; but have understood 
 that his father sustains an unblemished reputation. — 
 And is very rich, — ha, girl ? — If I ever marry again, 
 father, money shall never be taken into the account ; 
 I have a superfluity of my own, and shall seek for hap- 
 piness. — Right, child, right ; but is not something due 
 to your family ? Your grandfather was an earl ; my* 
 brother, your uncle, is in ill health, and I may live to 
 succeed to his title. The only daughter of an earl to 
 intermarry with the son of a carpenter ! how will that 
 tell in England ? " Why, papa, you really speak as 
 though I was — was—" " Spare your blushes, my 
 daughter, and don't betray yourself more than you 
 have already done. I was merely trying you. I have 
 lived long enough in the world, more especially in this 
 highly favoured country, to learn that it is worth and 
 education, not a title or a genealogical tree, as ancient 
 as the flood, that makes the man. Our titles and es- 
 tates may descend to our posterity ; but we cannot 
 bequeath to it our virtues, when we possess any. 
 Your Obadiah— " « Fie, papa !" « Well, then, Mr. 
 
47 
 
 Bloom fie Id,—- appears to be an unexceptionable lad, in 
 every other respect, — has come highly recommended 
 
 to me from some of the first people in ; and, as 
 
 you married your first husband to oblige me, and, not- 
 withstanding he was a gendfeman born and bred, drew 
 a blank with a witness to it; it is but fair that you should 
 now please yourself. I could wish that he was more 
 respectably connected, but let that pass. He is study- 
 ing physic, my letters inform me : we must therefore 
 sink the plebeian in the physician ; for every physician 
 is, or at least ought to be, a gentleman. You have 
 been a most dutiful daughter to me ; and will make 
 him an excellent wife, or it will be his fault. Go to 
 him child : I have been desperately in love myself, 
 and can judge of your present, by my then feelings" 
 Louisa hesitated. " Nay, nay ; let us have no unne- 
 cessary airs, or I may retract." She kissed and left 
 him, joined me, and made her report. Thus encou- 
 raged, I threw off that reserve, which had almost tied 
 up my tongue when in his presence, and exerted my- 
 self to become as agreeable to him as I already was to 
 his daughter. I soon succeeded, for I happened to 
 strike his fancy at first sight ; and when one man is 
 disposed to be attached to another, it is no difficult 
 matter to find the way to his affections. 
 
 After continuing four weeks with him, I solicited his 
 consent to our union, and did not ask for it in vain : — but 
 he jocularly remarked, " That he believed we loved 
 each other before Mr. 's death." This was strik- 
 ing upon a tender chord. I blushed up to the eyes, 
 and was dumb. He did not apfiear to notice it, and 
 spoke on : — " Poor thing ! she is but little more than 
 eighteen, and has suffered, in the matrimonial state, 
 as never so young a woman suffered before ;" — adding, 
 " young man, if you do not make her a good husband, 
 you will bring my grey hairs with sorrow to the grave ; 
 and my legacy to you will be my everlasting curses ! ! 1" 
 There was something so awfully solemn in his man- 
 ner, that I shuddered : L could not have been more 
 horror-stricken had I been bit by a mad dog ! To fix 
 upon our wedding-day was next in order. An early- 
 one was named, with his entire approbation ; it being 
 his decided opinion, that Mr had so acted to 
 
48 
 
 Louisa as not to merit any respect to be paid to his 
 
 memory. I joyfully returned to , and easily 
 
 prevailed upon my doating parents to witness the ce- 
 remony. It was a great undertaking to travel nearly 
 two hundred miles at theif* advanced age ; but had it 
 been a thousand, they said, " they would see me mar- 
 ried." With what delight did I introduce them to the 
 chosen of my heart: she embraced and kissed them. 
 — Her condescension, as they termed it, almost over- 
 came them. — Worthy souls ! they could scarcely be- 
 lieve their own eyes, and marvelled greatly at my 
 enviable destiny. " She was such a beautiful, sweet- 
 spoken creature ; with not a bit of pride ; had hugged 
 and kissed the old carpenter: — verily, Obadiah, I shall 
 soon love her as much as though she was my own 
 flesh and blood, — I feel that I shall. ,, — " I love her as 
 much already," said the old carpenter's Deborah. 
 We were married I What could I wish for more ? 
 
49 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 " — — — — If ever thou shalt love, 
 
 In the sweet pangs of it remember me ; 
 For such as I am, all true lovers are ; 
 Unstaid and skittish in all motions else, 
 Save in the constant image of the creature 
 
 That is belov'd ." 
 
 Shakspeare. 
 
 WE remained at Wheatlands a fortnight after oiu 
 nuptials, caressed and caressing, — happy, and diffusing 
 happiness to all around. My father had settled, in 
 conformity to his promise, one hundred thousand dol- 
 lars upon me. My wife too was very rich, indepen- 
 dent of her expectations from her father ; but what is 
 wealth when put in competition with — almighty love ! 
 'tis but as dross.— -Louisa and myself never threw away 
 a thought upon it. Blessed in the possession of each 
 other, we sighed for nothing better on this side hea- 
 ven ! Our parents participated in our felicity, parti- 
 cularly my father-in-law. He had offered up his dar- 
 ling a filial sacrifice on the altar of wealth, and her 
 misery was the result. He had never ceased to re- 
 proach himself for it. He now saw her as he wished 
 her to be, and all his former sufferings and self-upbraid- 
 ings vanished into air, — thin — empty — intangible air .' 
 there's a touch at the sublime for you : I was very 
 near the clouds then. — Softly ; — now I tread on earth 
 again. My father's business requiring his presence, 
 
 my father-in-law accompanied us to . He 
 
 would see us settled, he said, and be as much with us 
 afterwards as his private affairs would permit. We 
 soon went to housekeeping, and he returned to Wheat- 
 lands. — I now resumed the study of medicine, divid- 
 ing my time betwixt my books and my wife. The 
 lectures were to commence soon afterwards in Phila- 
 delphia. I resolved to attend them ; and repaired 
 thither, accompanied by Louisa. (I guess as how 
 you'll never find out where I was born, inqusitive 
 
 vol. i. F 
 
50 
 
 reader : yon calculated upon Philadelphia all along, — 
 didn't you ?) I carried letters of introduction to pro- 
 fessors Wistar, Rush, Shippen, Woodhouse, and Bar- 
 tota. How Dr. Kuhn, the professor of the practice of 
 medicine, came to be passed over, is a mystery to me ; 
 but it was no fault of mine. I was highly delighted 
 with each of them, Kuhn excepted, in their public and 
 private capacities. No anatomical chair was ever bet- 
 ter filled, in particular, than were those of Shippen and 
 Wistar. Indeed it is now a matter of extreme doubt 
 with me, whether an anatomist superior to Wistar ever 
 existed. I have said that I was not pleased with the 
 professor of the practice of physic : — there was no 
 originality about him. A disciple of Cullen, he ad- 
 hered as closely to his "first lines'* as though they had 
 been the rock of his salvation, and was above the 
 drudgery of benefiting us by a recapitulation of such 
 improvements in his branch, as must have been sug- 
 gested to him, in the course of a long and extensive 
 practice — provided he ever was at the pains of think- 
 ing for himself; which was much questioned by many, 
 and by nonesmore, Isiisjiect, than professor Rush, who 
 had a most sovereign contempt for the doctor and his 
 acquirements. However, he might have been very 
 amiable in his private capacity, for aught I know, not 
 having had the honour of a personal acquaintance with 
 him. He certainly was extremely popular as a phy- 
 sician, and was doing the most lucrative business in 
 the city, in the line of his profession. 
 
 About this period, my Louisa became pregnant ; an 
 event which afforded to us no small satisfaction. " If 
 it should only prove a boy, my son," said Obadiah, se- 
 nior, " but we must be thankful for whatever it pleases 
 God to give us." How very common it is, with all 
 classes, to wish that their first born should be of the 
 masculine' gender :— . was it not your case, friendly 
 reader (you must necessarily be a brother Benedict),' 
 when your wife was enciente for the first time ? And 
 yet, I believe that, in most large families, the daugh- 
 ters prove much greater comforts to their parents than 
 the sons. 
 
 My life was now completely barren of incident. 
 Every thing kept on the even tenor of its way. " My 
 
51 
 
 days were cloudless, and my nights serene." The 
 violence of my passion had softened down into the purest 
 affection, — an affection which had for its basis, esteem, 
 respect, and reverence for the object beloved, who was 
 as perfect as it is possible for mortal to be. 
 
 During my necessary attendance on the professors, 
 which occupied my entire mornings, the favourite pur- 
 suit of Louisa was, the angel-like one of searching out 
 such objects of charity as were really deserving of it. 
 To listen attentively and kindly to the narrator of a tale 
 of wo, sympathize with him, and relieve his distress- 
 es, as far as that could be effected by a supply of the 
 good things of this world ; Avas to her the first of lux- 
 uries, for it was a luxury of which her soul only par- 
 took. Of our ample fortune, a liberal portion of the 
 income was devoted to this object ; but it was requi- 
 site to discriminate : we had already been frequently 
 imposed upon, and given to the vicious, what was de- 
 signed for the exclusive benefit of (he good. Our 
 purse was therefore closed to the impudent and im- 
 portunate mendicant ; and the silent sufferer, who was 
 too proud to beg, and too honest to steal, was diligently 
 sought after. 
 
52 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 ** When we take the most distant prospect of life, what 
 does it present to us but a chaos of unhappiness, a 
 confused and tumultuous scene of labour and con- 
 test, disappointment and defeat? If we view past 
 ages in the reflection of history, what do they offer to 
 our meditation but crimes and calamities ?" 
 
 THE usual period of gestation being nearly ex- 
 pired, I engaged Dr. D , the most distinguished 
 
 accoucheur in the city, to be with Louisa on the im- 
 portant occasion. I expected soon to be a father ! 
 Louisa was in raptures at the thought of unfolding 
 another self in the maternal arms. Our parents too 
 exhibited a childish impatience to view their seconcj 
 generation, for my sisters were as yet unmarried. None 
 of us anticipated or dreamt of evil. How wisely was 
 it ordained that prescience should not belong to mor- 
 tals. How inconceivably wretched would it have 
 made us. We should die ten thousand previous 
 deaths, did we but know the hour fixed upon for our 
 dissolution. I have a leaning to predestinarianism (is- 
 there such a word belonging to our language ? I have 
 my doubts whether there is), religious reader, and 
 hare combated it with all my might, but it retains its 
 place, and I fear I shall never be able to tear it up by 
 the roots. We were all most anxious for the ac- 
 couchement of my wife — sacred name ! to take place 
 — alas ! we knew not that it would bring a pitiless 
 storm along with it to burst over our devoted heads, 
 and plunge us, from the acme of earthly bliss, into the 
 profoundest abyss of wo ! ! ! Twenty-four years have 
 since rolled over my head, but the wound has never 
 been healed, and the pains of memory have made it 
 bleed as freely as ever. Ere power is denied me, I 
 will hasten to the dread catastrophe. Louisa was ta- 
 ken in labour. Dr. D. soon discovered a malforma- 
 tion of the pelvis, and that it was impossible for her 
 
53 
 
 to be delivered, without destroying the infant. She 
 was too much exhausted before we consented that it 
 should be done. The operation was performed, and 
 the child extracted. Louisa was taken with convul- 
 sions, and in less than three hours afterwards, her 
 spotless soul winged its flight to the mansions of 
 bliss ! i ! I was removed by force from the body ; my 
 senses departed from me, and I almost sunk under 
 this most unexpected and cruel bereavement. For 
 months I kept my house, and was so sinful, that I 
 would not partake of consolation. The situation of my 
 poor dear father-in-law at length aroused me from this 
 tempest of grief. He had lost his all ! the only tie 
 which bound him to life, and which had enabled him 
 to bear with manly fortitude the deprivation of his ex- 
 cellent wife, remained to him no longer. I endeavour- 
 ed to comfort him, but, " who is it can minister to a 
 mind diseased from such a cause V* His case was a 
 hopeless one : no human prescription could reach it. 
 A heavenly physician stepped in to his aid, and effect- 
 ed a cure, by removing him " to the place where the 
 wicked cease from troubling, and the weary are at 
 rest." 
 
 But I was still rich : my parents and three affec- 
 tionate sisters, who joined their tears with mine, and 
 keenly felt the chasms which had been made in the 
 family circle ; were yet spared to me. For their 
 dear sakes, I endeavoured to bear up under this heart- 
 rending visitation of him " who ever does aright," and 
 stifled, as much as possible, my sighs and moans. 
 
 Louisa — Sainted shade ! If it be permitted thee, 
 look down in pity upon the lonely partner of thy sub- 
 lunary joys — Watch over, and direct, his devious 
 steps, so that they may never lead him from the way 
 which is right. Do this, and we shall meet again. 
 Yes, my Louisa, we shall meet again, to part no more 
 •—in Paradise ! ! ! 
 
 f 2 
 
54 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 A strange Olla Podrida. 
 
 A LIVING monument of all that is great and good, 
 called upon me one morning : he was in deep black. 
 I think it probable that he never before looked upon, 
 so wo-begone a figure as his friend Obadiah. I am 
 proud to say, he was my friend. There is a partner- 
 ship in grief, my Bloomfield, said he, on entering, and 
 I am come to share it with you. I should have been 
 with you before, but the rod of him who loveth whom 
 he chastens has fallen heavily upon me also. I had in- 
 termixed so little with the world since I saw Louisa 
 for the last time, and taken so little interest in the con- 
 cerns thereof, that I knew not to what he alluded. 
 His looks however spoke volumes, but in manly lan- 
 guage. The true mourner need not wear the habili- 
 ment of sorrow. He proceeded to console me, by tel- 
 ling his tale. — And — oh how sensibly did it make me 
 feel my inferiority to him, both as a man, and a chris- 
 tian ! The yellow-fever had stripped him of parents, 
 wife, and children, at one fell swoop! His wife — the 
 counter-part of my Louisa, and yet he murmured not i 
 It was the will of heaven, and he humbly bent the 
 knee to it. Reader, if you are so wretched as to be art 
 unbeliever, you are entitled to, and have my commi- 
 seration, and fervent prayers for your conversion. Had 
 my friend been a stoic, he could scarcely have survi- 
 ved such an accumulation of misfortune, but he w r as a 
 christian, drew largely upon the bank of his religion 
 (such drafts are never protested, be the drawers ne- 
 ver so poor and needy) ; and was comforted. I had 
 been fool-hardy enough to fly in the face of my maker, 
 had neglected to resort to my bank ; and was misera- 
 ble. My inestimable friend, however, soon brought 
 me to reason, and I became decently resigned to that^ 
 for which there was no remedy. 
 
55 
 
 Having gathered together my scattered ideas and 
 almost scattered intellect, the healing art again en- 
 grossed ray attention, and proved a solace to those lea- 
 den hours which heedlessly dragged each other along. 
 I attended a second course of lectures, passed the fiery 
 ordeal respectably, and was authorised to attach M. D. 
 to my name. My parents hailed me doctor, and for 
 the first time, since — I — was — unmanned — we had a ju- 
 bilee in the family. My father-in-law had made me 
 his sole heir. I was worth about $300,000, under 
 three and twenty, and although Louisa was a non-such, 
 the world was not deficient in amiable women : I 
 might marry again, and beget a numerous progeny. 
 Obadiah senior, and his faithful echo, Deborah, would 
 have applied a sponge to my widowership (another 
 coinage) in twenty-four hours had it depended upon 
 them. They had again " set their hearts," but it was 
 upon another thing. The one wished to be a grand- 
 father, and the other a grand-mother. Two of my sis- 
 ters had been married eighteen months : now, whe- 
 ther it was their fault, or their husbands' fault, or that 
 it was owing to their barrenness ; in which case, it 
 would have been nobody's fault ; so it was, there was 
 no fruit produced, nor a distant symptom of the soils* 
 improving by cultivation. My youngest sister was a 
 very good girl, but so monstrous ugly, that her money 
 (§50,000 certain on the day of marriage) had so far 
 failed to buy her — what most young ladies of seven- 
 teen are desirous of having. What a shocking thing 
 it is that a hale, hearty, buxom wench should lead apes 
 
 in against her inclination, merely because she 
 
 was out of the way when beauty was sharing. Philan- 
 thropists and friends to your country, and to a tenfold 
 increase of its population, it rests with you to correct 
 the procedure. — Establish an ugly club — select these 
 unfortunates — envelop their heads in a bag — their un- 
 seen beauties may vie with those of any lady in the land ; 
 and— accommodate them as they wish to be accom- 
 modated. But do it ; I charge ye do it, in an honour- 
 able way I — These things being premised, it is not at 
 all to be wondered at, that my parents despaired of & 
 grand-child, save through my agency. 
 
56 
 
 I was tolerably well grounded in the theory of my 
 profession, but in order to be a master of it, it was in- 
 dispensable that I should be practically familiar with 
 it : experience must therefore be had, for never was 
 there a more correct adage than this : " theory may 
 deceive ; analogy may mislead, but experience leads 
 to truth." — There is as much difference between a 
 theoretical and a practical physician, as there is betwixt 
 gold and pewter in value. My circumstances ren- 
 dering it unnecessary for me to court the business of 
 the rich, I sedulously exerted myself to get into ex- 
 tensive practice amongst the poor, and soon succeed- 
 ed. I then established an hospital and dispensary, for 
 the general good. Hundreds were relieved by them, 
 and ere long I reaped an abundant harvest of their 
 gratitude. 
 
Z7 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 " Away ! no woman could descend so low. 
 
 A skipping-, dancing-, worthless tribe you are ; 
 
 Fit only for yourselves. You herd together ; 
 
 And when the circling glass warms your vain hearts, 
 
 You talk of beauties that you never saw, 
 
 And fancy raptures that you never knew." 
 
 I HAD now been a widower upwards of two years^ 
 and my parents were unceasingly intreating me to 
 marry again. They were both pretty ancient, and 
 still no prospect of a grand-child. I was then, as lam 
 now, a passionate admirer of the matrimonial state, 
 and as desirous of issue as they could possibly be ; 
 but to fix upon a proper successor for Louisa was the 
 difficulty. My duty to my parents, however, out- 
 weighed all selfish considerations. My heart, it is 
 true, was buried in the grave of my first love, but I 
 thought it not unlikely I should meet with a woman 
 whom I could esteem and respect, and who might give 
 me children ; and bring to me something like happi- 
 ness. In pursuit of this object, I went more into 
 company than usual, and, whilst in search of a wife, be- 
 came acquainted with a young lady, whom I shall call 
 Maria ; handsome and very accomplished, and agree- 
 able. I think I might have loved her, had I never 
 known the paragon of her sex. As it was, she brought 
 my desires fairly into action, and was, as I believed, al- 
 together unexceptionable. I addressed her, she did 
 not " play me coy ;" and in six weeks the vacuum 
 in my bed was filled up I soon discovered that my 
 new wife was constitutionally a wanton — a discovery 
 which occasioned me, as you may well suppose, many 
 heart-aches. She afifieared to love me, but it was of 
 that sensual description which disgusted me. Her 
 soul participated not in it. She brought forcibly home 
 to my recollection a remarkable observation of one of 
 the greatest physiognomists I ever knew. We were 
 walking together in Market-street (Philadelphia), one 
 
58 
 
 afternoon, and fell in with a Miss B. with whom we 
 were both acquainted. She was a young lady upon 
 whom it was impossible to look " without thinking of 
 something not to be spoken of;" (a phrase of the vir- 
 tuous and modest lady Mary Wortley Montague's ;) 
 so lacivious was her walk, and the look out of her eye. 
 After we separated, my companion, as was his custom, 
 abruptly remarked to me, " Nothing but the dread of 
 a nine months' tell-tale prevents that girl from being 
 
 a s privately ; but she is as nature made her ; 
 
 God help her poor husband, if she gets one." — My 
 wife was far from giving me any cause of complaint, 
 conducting herself with the most perfect propriety to 
 every gentleman who visited at our house. Still, when 
 I brooded on her natural defect, I could not avoid an- 
 ticipating that this state of things would not last long. 
 She became pregnant ; and I derived some consolation 
 from being satisfied that that child, at least, was law- 
 fully begotten. She gave me a son in nine months 
 from the day on which our nuptials were celebrated ; 
 and all my uneasinesses were temporally forgotten 1 
 
 The stranger was received with exceeding great 
 joy : the sight of him appeared to renew my parents' 
 ages. He was christened " Obadiah," at my father's 
 express desire, and his mother was out of her con- 
 finement, when I was visited by a young gentleman, a 
 school-fellow, whom 1 shall denominate Blackheart. 
 We had been greatly attached to each other during 
 our boyhood, and 1 deemed him worthy, in every res- 
 pect, of the most exalted friendship. For seven years 
 we had not seen each other ! Our meeting was a most 
 affecting one. Even Maria, albeit she was not much 
 given to the melting mood, shed tears on witnessing 
 it. He also was a physician, but his father had pre- 
 ferred the Edinburgh school, from whence he had just 
 returned, with the same forbidding aspect he carried 
 along with him (he was even uglier than my sister ! , 
 but in manners — a perfect Chesterfield ! ! ! He was, 
 moreover, a finished coxcomb, — performed on several 
 instruments, sung a good song, told a story with much 
 humour, — could cut a caper with his heels " a la Fran- 
 chise," comb a lady's lap-dog, andjlea him too, if she 
 required it,^* -abounded with small-talk ; — in fine, he 
 
59 
 
 was a perfect master of all those jirctiy littlenesses, 
 which are considered as indispensable appendages to 
 a lady's man of the first water, by most of the weaker 
 part of the fair sex, and, I grieve to add, that many of 
 the well-informed are of the same opinion. For my 
 own part, I was shocked at the metamorphosis, and 
 afraid that my friend was irrecoverably lost to me, for 
 it was not reasonable to suppose that such a trifler as 
 he now was, could love any body but himself. The 
 belles, however, would have, nem. con., voted me a 
 boor, had they penetrated into these my private senti- 
 ments ; for they, pretty creatures, esteemed him a 
 phoenix ! Never was mortal man so caressed before, 
 as Dr. Blackheart was in my native city : and what 
 rendered this yet more unaccountable, was his public 
 avowal of his disinclination to matrimony, — a state 
 which was, with him, an everlasting theme of ridicule. 
 My wife, too — fool that I was ever to dignify her with 
 the title ! — she, forsooth, vowed he " was the most 
 charming man she had ever seen ;" and this to my face ! 
 I smothered my resentment, but, by a sort of involun- 
 tary instinct, carried my hand to my forehead ! ! ! 
 
 I can with truth say, that a spark of jealousy was 
 not engrafted in my system by my Maker ; but I was 
 well assured that my honour was in the keeping of a 
 being, cursed with uncontroulable passions, and confi- 
 dent that the citadel of her virtue would not withstand 
 an apology for a siege, when assailed by u the most 
 charming man she had ever seen." Meantime, I could 
 form no plausible pretext for dispensing with the visits 
 of this dangerous Edinburgh doctor. For me he still 
 appeared to retain his youthful affection. With me 
 would he laugh at the follies of mankind ; acknowledge 
 his own ; ascribe them to the fashion of the times ; 
 artfully shift them from his own shoulders, and inge- 
 niously contrive to set them down to its account. Nor 
 did he fail to insinuate himself into my purse, from 
 which he had already extracted two or three pretty 
 considerable sums. 
 
 He was one day, as he conceived, entertaining me 
 with an account of his amours, whilst in Edinburgh. 
 I should have declined the regale, had I imagined that 
 any one was within hearing ; but my wife, without my 
 
60 
 
 knowledge (and prompted, as I then hoped, by female 
 curiosity alone), had secreted herself in an adjoining 
 room. She had accidentally heard the commence- 
 ment of the conversation ; it was entirely suited to her 
 taste ; and she chose to be as wise as I would be. In 
 the course of his strange and incredible disclosures, 
 he declared to me, upon his most sacred honour, that, 
 in that single city, he had been improperly intimate 
 with no less than twenty-seven married women, within 
 two years ! ! ! I shuddered ! Not that I believed 
 him, — God knows I did not ; — I had not as yet crossed 
 the Atlantic, but I was tolerably well versed in history, 
 and knew the ladies of Edinburgh, from character, to 
 the very full as well as he did, who had resided amongst 
 them : the sun does not shine upon more chaste women. 
 — I shuddered at the profligacy and wanton falsehoods 
 of a man, whom I yet loved, in opposition to my bet- 
 ter judgment. Old habits are not easily gotten over, 
 and that accounts for it. He proceeded : — What do 
 you think of that, friend Obadiah ? with all the sang 
 froid imaginable ; — wasn't that doing pretty well for 
 so ugly a dog as I know myself to be ? There really 
 is no accounting for the taste of some ladies : why they 
 should have such a violent penchant for us hickory- 
 faced fellows, is a mystery which I have never, for the 
 soul of me, been able to fathom. I'll engage, now, 
 that you can't say half as much : and, whether you con- 
 sider it as flattery or not, I must tell you, that, in the 
 whole course of my travels, I never set eyes upon a 
 handsomer man ; nay, don't blush, — still as modest as 
 ever, I see. — Deuce take me, if I can divine how you 
 managed to court your wives, — curse me if they must 
 not have met you more than half way. I had colour- 
 ed, — but it was with indignation. How necessary is it 
 for a moralist to go into court with clean hands ! I 
 too had been a seducer ! I too had committed adultery ! 
 With a beam in my own eye, I dared not attempt to 
 remove the motes which were in his, according to his 
 own statement. I endeavoured to force a smile, but 
 felt a real inclination to weep. I knew you would be 
 shocked, quoth the doctor, at the heinousness of my 
 offences, and consider me as having sinned past re- 
 demption ; but hear what I have to say in extenuation 
 
61 
 
 of my backslidings, before you pass final sentence 
 upon me. You must know, then, that I went, well 
 stocked with letters, to Edinburgh ; the polished inha- 
 bitants of which, vied with each other in paying me 
 every attention. In truth, they overwhelmed me with 
 civilities and hospitality." " And in requital thereof," 
 mentally thought I, " you debauched their wives and 
 daughters, — unprincipled monster !" " The world 
 cannot boast of a more delectable city than the New 
 Town ; — such women ! and such claret ! Gods ! I am 
 carried off at a tangent into the Elysian Fields, when- 
 ever I think of the pleasures which have gone by. 
 My father is as rich as a Jew, you know, and your 
 most obsequious his only child. When I was about 
 to sail for Europe, the old curmudgeon opened his 
 heart, and not only accommodated me with a consi- 
 derable sum in good sound cash, but unlimited letters 
 of credit. I should have been a fool and an ass, had I 
 not made use of them,— ha, Obadiah ? Thus furnish- 
 ed, — may be the young American did not astonish the 
 natives. I bled freely upon all occasions ; retained in 
 my service, as pimp, a son of the identical Cadie Fra- 
 ser, of whom such honourable mention is made in 
 Smollet's " Humphrey Clinker," — took out my de- 
 grees as a buck, a blood, and bon vivant, — and soon 
 became, as is the case with every pigeon in that coun- 
 try, who willingly suffers himself to be plucked, a 
 favourite with man, woman, and child. Not having 
 leisure for study, I purchased my diploma, and gave 
 a needy Scotchman, a superior classical scholar, fifty 
 goldfinches to write my thesis. By the bye, I am told, 
 Obadiah, it is an elegant thing ; for, may 1 never kiss 
 the young rib of an old dotard again, if ever I took the 
 trouble to read it ; Latin pure, and subject handled in 
 the ablest manner. Apropos, you have a copy, and 
 can judge for yourself. Once in the good graces of 
 the bonny, and boney, yellow-haired lasses, my next 
 step was to ornament the brows of their unsuspicious 
 husbands. With some I proceeded by sap, — with 
 others by a coup de main ; and when they struck their 
 flags, I should have been unworthy of the name of a 
 man, — another Joseph, — had I not marched in with 
 drums beating and colours flying ! ! ! Ha, ha* ha ! 
 G 
 
62 
 
 Two or three of the dear creatures were, between our- 
 selves, in such a piteous taking, that they benevolently 
 dropped their 'kerchief's without waiting for the eti- 
 quette of a challenge. But I warily guarded against 
 tampering with the maids, and they could hold out 
 their lures too. A married woman can and will keep 
 such a secret inviolable ; but the poor spinsters — alack, 
 and alas a day ! in a time of need, they are not already 
 provided with a father for the illegitimate." 
 
 I was doomed to undergo the penance of listening 
 to this execrable rodomontade for more than an hour, 
 when he suddenly stopped short, recollected an en- 
 gagement, and requested of me the loan of some more 
 money ; adding, that he would be engaged in a party 
 at loo in the evening, — " And we shall play deep, Oba- 
 diah, d — d deep. I really am ashamed to trouble you 
 again, my dear fellow ; but I played such havoc with 
 the old codjer's pocket whilst abroad, that he has look- 
 ed as sour as double-distilled verjuice ever since my 
 return. I shall, however, " touch him for a few" 
 shortly, my mother having lent me her aid, — the grey 
 mare was always the better horse, — and then I will 
 repay you all." I gave him the sum required, with all 
 despatch, and he took his leave. 
 
63 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 •< O, what authority and show of truth 
 Can cunning- sin cover itself withal ! 
 Comes not those words as modest evidence 
 To witness simple virtue ? " 
 
 MY friendly tormentor being gone, I was left a prey 
 to melancholy and dire forebodings, and with steps 
 " solitary and slow," bent my course to my study, the 
 usual scene of my meditations ; and was deep in 
 thought, when I heard a rap at its door. It was my 
 wife, with our boy in her arms. Such a passport was, 
 perhaps, at that time requisite, for she — even she, was 
 the sole and only cause of my disquiet. — " The most 
 charming man she had ever seen" still stuck in my 
 gizzard — added to which, was my recent acquaintance 
 with his principles and morals, or rather, to speak 
 more properly, his no morals, and no principles. The 
 sight of my infant however restored to me my wonted 
 complacency, and I received her as though every thing 
 was right. She soon explained to me the cause which 
 had procured for me this unexpected visit to my sanc- 
 tum sanctorum. For she well knew, that when I re- 
 tired to my study, I chose to be alone. After having 
 apologized in the sweetest manner imaginable, for in- 
 truding upon my privacy, (for she had a tongue which 
 " could wheedle with the D — 1" — " the most charm- 
 ing man she ever knew," had slipped out, when she 
 was off her guard) — You really must not be angry with 
 me, my dearest husband, observed she — I know I have 
 been much to blame, but I was not sensible I was do- 
 ing wrong at the time ; and have come to confess my 
 fault. 1 accidentally overheard every word Dr. Black- 
 heart said to you this afternoon — 'Tis true, I should 
 have gone away as soon as I ascertained the tenourof 
 his discourse, but we women are frequently more in- 
 quisitive than is becoming. What an abominable 
 wretch he is ! I could not have supposed it possible 
 lhat such depravity existed upon tart,h, and must in- 
 
64 
 
 treat you to forbid his visits at our house, for, howevep 
 innocent I may be, my character, which is far dearer 
 to me than life, may suffer in consequence of them. 
 Such a viper is positively unworthy of the notice of 
 any gentleman — the doors of married men, and those 
 who have grown up daughters ought, above all, to be 
 for ever closed against him; in order that the weaker 
 sex might not be exposed to his insults. Not that I 
 apprehend any of our ladies would for a moment listen, 
 much less lend a favourable ear, to his odious propo- 
 sitions. Thank God ! I have too exalted an opinion 
 of the virtue of the American fair, to harbour such a 
 thought. If the boaster speaks truly, which I very 
 much doubt, our women must be a superior order of 
 beings to those of the old world." 
 
 Credulous Obadiah ! He swallowed all this with as 
 much avidity as though it had been gospel. How 
 deeply — how cruelly — howunmeritedly — had I wrong- 
 ed the dear angel, from whose lips issued such noble 
 scnt'ments as these ! I clasped her to my bosom- 
 kissed her in an agony of remorse and self condem- 
 nation, and at that propitious moment, a feeling for 
 her, nearly allied to love, found its way to my heart, for 
 the first time. She was surprised, and evidently high- 
 ly gratified, at the warmth of my manner. I had al- 
 ways treated her with the utmost kindness, but had 
 never before played to her the part of the " enthusias- 
 tic lover." I continued to bestow upon her kisses and 
 caresses, and gave those cares to the winds which 
 bad nearly shipwrecked my peace. This momentary 
 delirium over — I warmly applauded the correctness of 
 her opinion — told her it was in exact unison with my 
 own — that unquestionably Blackheart, from his own 
 account of himself, was unfit society for any female 
 who set a value upon her reputation — that it would 
 however be improper to break with him all at once, 
 as it might excite suspicion — but that I would shake 
 him off gradually ; and ended with saying, that she 
 could not have made to me a more agreeable request. 
 She acknowledged, but at the same time deplored, 
 the necessity there was for my adopting this line 
 of conduct, declaring that it would require the ut- 
 most stretch of her politeness to treat him again 
 
65 
 
 with common civility. Blithe as a lark, I proposed 
 that we should divide the evening betwixt our parents, 
 to which she joyfully assented. We drove first to 
 Obadiah senior's, being nearest our residence. I 
 entered his house with the air of a bridegroom. 
 I had not been so happy since the death of the 
 ever to be regretted Louisa. My mother was asto- 
 nished, and, making an opportunity, desired to speak 
 with me in an adjoining room. " What has produced 
 this wonderful alteration in you, my son ? For months 
 past, you have been evidently out of spirits, and always 
 in the dismals. I was afraid you did not live happi- 
 ly with your wife, until you assured me to the con- 
 trary ; but now, all of a sudden, you are a new man, 
 and look and talk as you were wont to do, when 
 our dear lost Louisa was alive. If I was not aware 
 of your remarkable sobriety, I should certainly sup- 
 pose you had been drinking.'* It was too tender a 
 point to make a confession upon to any one : I there- 
 fore told her, that I had been a little uneasy in mind, 
 but that the cause was now removed, and must re- 
 main a secret, even from her. This half and half 
 explanation was far from proving satisfactory to my 
 mother, who panted to know the whole story of the 
 matter ; but she found me resolute in my determina- 
 tion, and pressed the thing no farther. Happily for 
 ■me" my other parent, who was now in his second child- 
 hood, had not noticed the M hidden grief," which had 
 blanched the once blooming cheek of his son — for my 
 mother was too prudent and good a wife, to divide 
 suspicions with him, which could only tend to make 
 him miserable, when exhausted nature craved repose. 
 Our visits paid, 1 returned to my dwelling, and retired 
 to my apartment contented with my lot. 
 
 g 2 
 
66 
 
 CHAPTER XIX> 
 
 O she is fallen 
 
 Into a pit of ink, that the wide sea 
 Hath drops too few to wash her clean again ; 
 And salt too little, which may season give 
 To her foul tainted flesh !" 
 
 THE next morning I received despatches f/om 
 Boston by express, apprising me that my eldest sister 
 was dangerously ill. She had gone thither with her 
 husband, on a visit to his relations ; had taken a vio- 
 lent cold by the way, and was attacked with pneumo- 
 ny, soon after her arrival. Her situation was deemed 
 most critical. Indeed my brother- in-law, who was 
 aware of my great attachment to her, charged me to 
 expedite my journey ; or I might never see her more, 
 lie well knew that the age and infirmities of her pa- 
 rents precluded the possibility of their undertaking 
 such a journey, and conjured me to keep her situa- 
 tion a secret from them. Such a reservation was 
 most painful to me, but it was proper. A disclosure 
 could do them no good, and might have been produc- 
 tive of much harm. I accordingly told them, that in- 
 dispensible business called me to that city, and easily 
 obtained their permission for my unmarried sister, 
 who was extremely fond of travelling, to accompany 
 me. I wished much for Maria to be of the party, but I 
 would not deprive my son of the protection of both his 
 parents, and his tender age required that he should be 
 left behind. I was now under no apprehensions of my 
 wife's acting indiscreetly — thought no more of Dr. 
 Blackheart, or any other blackhearted fellow — bid my 
 family a most affectionate farewel, ascended my vehi- 
 cle, and drove off at a round rate, within two hours after 
 the arrival of the express. My professional business 
 had been committed to the charge of a physician upon 
 whom I could rely. I presently explained to my com- 
 panion the object of my journey, who was more oblig- 
 ed to me than ever for taking her along with me. As 
 
67 
 
 we travelled post, you may very well conjecture that 
 many days did not elapse ere wc reached Boston. We 
 found our sister alive it is true, but almost in the last ex- 
 tremity ; however her physicians yet had hopes of her, 
 and they were the most skillful in the place. They 
 had long since discarded all nosological arrangements, 
 as being productive of great evil to the patient; and 
 prescribed for the symptoms, not the name of a dis- 
 ease. One of them had been upwards of forty, the 
 other upwards of thirty years in the practice. I had 
 the honour to be admitted to a consultation with them 
 on the case, in the issue of which I was so deeply in- 
 terested ; and acquired more practical information 
 from them in the short space of two hours, than I 
 could have derived from books in as many months. 
 It was not a consultation on pneumonia simply, but a 
 dissertation on the practice of physic generally. They 
 had been anxously awaiting our arrival, being satisfied 
 that the sight of us would prove a cordial to their pa- 
 tient (who had not lost her senses, although as much 
 reduced by her disease as it was possible for her to 
 be) ; and hoped that with their conjoined exertions, a 
 favourable crisis might be the result. Nor were their 
 hopes fallacious, for in twenty-four hours afterwards, 
 our dear sister was evidently better ; and in a reasona- 
 ble time became convalescent. Nevertheless she had 
 been so very ill, that she regained her strength but 
 slowly, and we were hourly in dread of a relapse. Ex- 
 cellent nursing at last succeeded in restoring her to 
 such a state of health that I might venture to leave 
 her, but I had been six weeks from home. — An age 
 to a man who idolised his child, and who was trying 
 to love his wife. I left my youngest sister with that 
 one who was so lately rescued from the jaws of the 
 grave, and hastened back to my family. My wife re- 
 ceived me, as Louisa would have done, as to exter- 
 nals — I could not dive into her thoughts, and read 
 what was going on there. My son and parents were 
 well, and my medical friend had discharged his duty 
 faithfully. Thus far — all was as it should be. 
 
 In the evening Dr. Blackheart called in to pay me 
 his respects, and congratulate me on the recovery of a 
 relation so dear to me. Maria received him with so 
 
68 
 
 distant a politeness that I was amazed he did not no- 
 tice it. Had /been so treated by any lady, my feel- 
 ings would have been most severely wounded ; but it 
 was highly gratifying to me, with whom she had kept 
 her word. Excellent woman, thought I — what an 
 idiot 1 was to be under any apprehensions with regard to 
 this man ! It is evident she abhors him. He notwith- 
 standing staid supper with us, and it appeared to :ivc 
 her pain whenever she invited him to partake of what 
 stood in her neighbourhood. At last he made a finish 
 of his unwelcome visit, and I, being much fatigued 
 with travelling, courted repose. 
 
 I had ever been in the habit of rising early, and was 
 stirring soon after the new day made its appearance. 
 Having availed myself of the benefit of a cold bath, as 
 was my constant practice for several years ; I was 
 about visiting my hospital in order to economise time, 
 before breakfast, when I was cautiously stopped by an 
 old and faithful domestic, who had aided my mother 
 in nursing me, and whom I had long since ceased to 
 consider in the light of a servant. She set her finger 
 upon her lips with an air of mystery, and beckoned me 
 to follow her, looking carefully around in order to dis- 
 cover, as I presumed, whether we were noticed. A 
 cold chill ran over me, which was succeeded by a ver- 
 tigo, and it became necessary for me to throw myself 
 into a chair, and call for a glass of water ; which was 
 promptly furnished me by old Margaret. My 
 houses had not been burned — there had been no de- 
 preciation in the price of stock, and my friends were 
 in excellent health. — No evil was then to betide me, 
 unless it was through the medium of my wife. All 
 my previous suspicions recurred to my imagination 
 with ten-fold force. I considered the deed as already 
 done— and done by Blackheart, in despite of the art- 
 ful behaviour (for artful I was now sure it was) of Ma- 
 ria, the night before. I wished, and yet dreaded, to 
 hear the awful secret which old nurse was about to 
 impart to me ; for that she had something of impor- 
 tance to communicate was but too evident from her 
 manner. When sufficiently recovered, I obeyed her 
 summons, she led me to my study, and after we had 
 entered it, prayed me to lock the door. This done. 
 
69 
 
 she entered upon what would have been a tale of hor- 
 ror, had I loved my wife. My dearest Oby — mas- 
 ter I mean, if Miss Beckie had not been so ill all this 
 might not have happened : (what all ? thought I — 
 I would know the all without any circumlocution.) 
 But it would though, for whatever is to 6e, will de. 
 (Sound logic this !) Here have been strange doings 
 since you left us, my child — such doings 1 Lord have 
 mercy upon us! — There's no trusting any one nowa- 
 days. Ah master, master ! all is not gold that glit- 
 ters. — To think of her deceit at supper last night. 
 — Whose deceit ? Answer me quickly, nurse. — Don't 
 talk so loud, my dearest Oby — or you'll spoil all. Why 
 my mistress's to be sure — but — whisper — whisper— 
 for if they find out that I told upon them, they'll be 
 the death of your poor Margaret. As I'm a living 
 creature, and have a soul to be saved — but it will shock 
 you too much, master. — Go on, nurse, I am prepared 
 for the worst. — Well then that same Dr. Black-devil 
 filled — your — place — while you were gone to Boston. 
 I thought so, said I, involuntarily. Good God ! con- 
 tinued nurse, you thought so, and yet went away and 
 left her at his mercy ! — But I have good reason to be- 
 lieve that they had made a beginning before you went. 
 You don't tell me so, nurse. It is not possible ! I tell 
 you it is possible and certain too, that I went unex- 
 pectedly into the parlour one day when you were out. 
 She was seated in his lap, her arm around his neck, 
 and they were kissing away, for dear life. Now when 
 a married woman sits in another man's lap, and suffers 
 him to kiss her, it is not at all unlikely but she will con- 
 sent to grant him the last favour. — And this happened 
 before my departure for Boston ? — At least two days. 
 Had I not been abundantly convinced of the integrity 
 and veracity of Margaret, I could not have given cre- 
 dit to this. She now descended to particulars, and 
 not a doubt remained upon my mind but Blackheart 
 had been admitted into my house by the abandoned 
 hussey, and had occupied my bed, on the very first 
 night after I left the city!!! After having disclosed 
 every thing, Margaret returned to her apartment, un- 
 observed by any one. What was to be done in this 
 case ? Maria's family was a very respectable one ; her 
 
70 
 
 parents were very much attached to me ; she had 
 three sisters unmarried, and a brother whom I dearly 
 loved. Some respect was due to, and to be had for, 
 their feelings. The whole was not to be disgraced, 
 because one daughter had acted infamously. I took 
 counsel of an experienced friend, who was a " man of 
 the world'* in every sense of the phrase ; in pursuance 
 of which, Maria was to be treated as usual, until I 
 caught her in the very fact. We correctly concluded 
 that this would prove no difficult matter. I could not 
 play the part of a dissembler long. Accordingly, in 
 conformity with our arrangement, I invited Blackheart 
 to sup with me the next evening but one. He at- 
 tended. Supper over, a thundering rap was heard at 
 my door — a servant entered with a pressing message 
 from his mistress, requesting me to visit her hus- 
 band immediately ; who was extremely ill at his coun- 
 try-seat twenty miles distant. I affected to part with 
 Maria with great reluctance so soon after my return, 
 but as the gentleman was an intimate and valued ac- 
 quaintance, there was no alternative. Go I must. As 
 soon as my equipage was ready, Blackheart took his 
 leave, and I drove to the residence of my counsellor. 
 In about an hour Margaret joined us, and announced 
 that my quondam friend was — where he ought not to 
 be. I had taken care to secure a noiseless admission 
 into my premises. We took a dark lanthorn, and 
 found them in bed together ! ! ! And you put them 
 both to death, says the fashionable reader — I could not 
 murder the mother of my child. You at least slew 
 your false friend. — No such thing — he that is unwor- 
 thy to live) is certainly not good enough to die. 1 told 
 Blackheart that for the sake of my son, and wife's con- 
 nections, I deemed it adviseable to keep his atrocious 
 villany a secret ; and ordered him, as he valued his 
 life, not to boast of, or divulge it ; giving him fair 
 warning that if he did, no distance nor place, not even 
 the altar ; should screen him from my vengeance. I 
 then commanded him to retire, which he did without 
 uttering one word. Madam was also dumb ; for there 
 were three witnesses to her shame. You have ac- 
 quitted yourself like a hero, remarked ray confidant, 
 and I honour you for it. 
 
71 
 
 The most painful part of the business was yet to 
 come. My heart bled for her excellent family. The 
 most savage torture is as nothing, when compared to 
 what their ingenuous minds were about to suffer. But 
 the die was cast, and the wound must be inflicted. 
 
 There was no parrying it. 1 reviled not 
 
 Maria, but desired her to dress herself, as I meant to 
 return her to her parents. To them, her secret must 
 be revealed ; with them, it would be safe. For the 
 world another story would be prepared. She burst in- 
 to tears, who had continued sullen before, fell upon 
 her knees, said she dared not ask for my forgiveness, 
 but entreated me not to expose her to her parents. I 
 was not to be moved from my purpose. I lifted her 
 into a carriage, retaining my son, broke in upon the 
 peaceful slumbers of those who gave her being ; and, 
 heaven knows how unwillingly, revealed to them her 
 worthlessness, which was corroborated by my compa- 
 nions, who was well known as a man to be relied upon, 
 and who had been an eye-witness to it. This done, 
 I flew from the house of misery and wo, returned to 
 my own, which was but little better; and watched 
 over my boy until he awoke to comfort me. 
 
72 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 The Rencontre. 
 
 AS the dissolution of a matrimonial co-partnership 
 never fails to furnish the thousand tongues of scandal 
 with abundant matter for conversation, and is invaria- 
 bly a nine days wonder, I had resolved to cause it to 
 be circulated, that Maria and myself had separated 
 by mutual consent — that there was a dissimilarity in 
 our tempers which rendered it impossible for us to 
 live happily together ; but that we had delayed it to 
 the last moment, in the joint hope that so painful a 
 resort might become unnecessary. In short I cared 
 not to what cause it was ascribed, save the right one ; 
 and it was a matter of indifference to me how much 
 I was censured upon the occasion, so as her reputa- 
 tion remained pure and unsullied, in the eyes of the 
 world. But her evil genius ordered it otherwise, as 
 will shortly be seen. 
 
 I had forced down a cup of coffee, appetite for break- 
 fast I had none ; when the name of a gentleman, who was 
 a first cousin of Maria's, was announced. He was invited 
 in, and I was about to receive him as usual, when I per- 
 ceived a loftiness and coldness in his manner, which 
 forbade it. He bowed as stiffly as though the maca- 
 rone had corsets on, and delivered me a letter in si- 
 lence. It was from the brother of Maria, and con- 
 tained what follows : 
 
 Sir, 
 
 If, in addition to being an infamous calumniator, 
 scoundrel, and villain, you are not a coward, you will 
 
 not fail to meet me at , Delaware, at six 
 
 o'clock to-morrow morning, then and there to answer 
 for your outrageous attack upon the fair fame of the 
 sister of 
 
 Henry S. Clements. 
 
73 
 
 P. S. My cousin, who will hand you this, is fully 
 empowered to make the necessary arrangements with 
 such gentleman as you may fix upon for your friend ; 
 provided you can prevail upon any one to act for such a 
 disgrace to civilized society as you are. 
 
 Dr. Bloomfield. Wednesday morning. 
 
 I was shocked at the perusal of this challenge, the 
 first I had ever seen. To keep Maria's dishonour a 
 secret was now without the compass t)f possibilities: 
 she had published it herself. " I wait for your reply," 
 observed the cousin, unlocking his lips. You shall 
 have it in two hours ; I must reflect a little first : to 
 rush uncalled into the presence of one's Maker is a 
 very serious thing. " In two hours then we shall certain- 
 ly hear from you." Even so, sir. He departed. It ap- 
 pears, as I subsequently learnt, that Maria had re- 
 solved to brazen it out ; and, as soon as our backs were 
 turned, solemnly avowed her innocence to her parents, 
 denied every thing, and endeavoured to persuade them, 
 that my friend and self had fabricated the tale in or- 
 der to ruin her. But they lent a deaf ear to the ebul- 
 litions of her effrontery, being convinced, however 
 dreadful the conviction, that it was true, true, too true, 
 With her inexperienced and loving brother she was 
 more successful. He gave ready credence to what- 
 ever she thought proper to tell him, and, like another 
 Chamont, he vowed to wash out the stain from her 
 character with my blood ; believing her to be a much 
 abused and innocent woman. Hence his invitation to a 
 leaden feast in Delaware. 
 
 I despatched a servant for Col. M'Donald, my asso- 
 ciate in the discovery of Maria's guilt, and in the in- 
 terim communed with myself. I had never as yet 
 stood powder and ball, but several of my brothers had, 
 and some of the same blood which animated them, 
 coursed in my arteries and veins. They however had 
 marched into the field under their country's banners, 
 and fought for its liberty ! — When they fell, it was in 
 the bed of real honour^ and their kindred boasted of 
 their martyrdom in the hallowed cause of patriotism 
 and independence. But does the duellist, who is the 
 votary of false honour, die gloriously ? Did any son 
 vol. i. H 
 
74 
 
 ever derive satisfaction from the circumstance of his 
 father's having fallen in a duel? Ah no! and now I 
 was imperiously called upon to engage in one — 
 Wherefore ? Why forsooth, because my wife had 
 thought proper to make a cuckold of me, and deny it 
 afterwards ! A hard case. Don't you think so, mas- 
 ter Brook ? I had ever been opposed to duelling, and 
 am still opposed to it, except in very extreme cases, 
 from conscientious motives. If 1 know myself, I was 
 never afraid of my carcase, but of my soul. I was 
 ever appalled when I reflected upon what was likely 
 to become of that. Still it was unavoidable to take 
 the opinion of the world into the scale, and that was 
 friendly to the horrid practice. What was to be done ? 
 I was a young man of some itanding in the communi- 
 ty. Was this to be lost to me by boldly refusing the 
 challenge for the sake of my immortal part ? Or was 
 I to endanger my everlasting felicity, by appreciating 
 more highly the whim of mere mortals, than the com- 
 mands of my God, and accept it ? I am weary of con- 
 jectures. Here comes Col. M'Donald. He, I trust, 
 will end them ; for by his decision will I be governed. 
 I put the challenge into his hands. He read it atten- 
 tively. " The lad is scurrilous enough, upon my troth. 
 Have you come to any determination respecting the 
 matter ?" Not as yet. I sent for you in order to de- 
 posit with you my honour. I know it will be in safe 
 keeping, and from this moment I place myself under 
 your guidance. Right child ; I am old, and, unhappi- 
 ly, too conversant with this sort of business. You 
 shall not fight a duel with him, it would be a sin and 
 a pity ; but if I do not bring you honourably off, say 
 that the blood of the M'Donalds has become degene- 
 rate. In two hours I am pledged to give him an an- 
 swer. I'll wait on the fiery spark immediately, and 
 see if I can't bring him to reason. I marvel whether 
 he will condescend to consider me as a gentleman. 
 If not, I'll e'en send home for the pedigree of my 
 clan — ha, ha, ha ! and away he went. He returned in 
 about half an hour, very much flustered. I never was 
 so ill used in all my life, Obadiah : this young dog is 
 determined to kill, or be killed, for he has carved out 
 another difficulty for himself. Would you believe it. 
 
75 
 
 he had the audacity to give me, to give a M'Donald, 
 the lie direct ; and accuse me of being a complotter 
 with you, in a vile scheme to destroy the character of 
 his sister. I was about to give him, what the lie in- 
 variably gets in Scotland, a sound drubbing ; for old as 
 I am, I am able to dress most of your fair weather 
 chaps ; but I thought better of it, and told him he should 
 have to attend to me, provided he did not require a 
 wooden jacket before he had done with you ; adding, 
 that you had your private reasons for not accepting 
 his challenge (I knew your sentiments in regard to du- 
 elling long since, Obadiah, and cordially afifirove of 
 tkem); but would be in Delaware at the place and time 
 appointed ; and if he was really in earnest, he might 
 attack you, and you would of course defend that life 
 which your Creator gave you. He said he wished for 
 nothing more, that he always knew you had something 
 of the parson about you, and would remove your 
 qualms of conscience, by compelling you to act upon 
 the defensive. There is no getting over the thing, 
 my dear fellow ; I am very sorry for it : both your 
 lives are too valuable to be thrown away for such a 
 hardened monster, as the woman must be, to whom, in 
 an inauspicious hour, you gave your name. But art 
 not afraid to smell gunpowder I hope ? — You will be 
 the better judge to-morrow, my dear sir.— Well, child, 
 all that I can say upon the subject is this, that you 
 have come from a good breed. I had an admirable 
 sample of it during the revolutionary war, for I had 
 the honour to hold a . commission in the same regi- 
 ment to which your brothers belonged, and Caledonia 
 herself never produced braver soldiers. But we must 
 bustle, Obadiah ; we have little time to spare, as I in- 
 tend, God willing, we shall be upon the ground before 
 the hour appointed. " My will can be as well made 
 in half an hour as in a thousand years. After that is 
 disposed of, I'll just go see my parents, and be ready to 
 set off in an hour from this." See your parents ! see 
 a fiddlestick. No, my young friend, that will never 
 do. You have need of all your pluck, let me tell you. 
 You must think of nothing but your honour now. 
 Make your will, and call for me as soon as you have 
 done. See your parents indeed ! the sight of them 
 
76 
 
 would deprive you of one fourth of your manhood. 
 Adieu, Obadiah, behave courageously to-morrow, 
 and my life for it you come off with flying colours. I 
 sent for an attorney and witnesses, had my will duly 
 executed ; and in less than an hour we had set out 
 upon our journey. We arrived, at a late hour, at a 
 tavern, in the neighbourhood of the place fixed upon 
 for our rencontre; accompanied by my surgeon. My 
 friend, who was a duelist in his heart, whatever he 
 might say to the contrary, had furnished me with a 
 pair of excellent pistols with hair spring triggers, and 
 in complete order for u bringing clown a bird," as he 
 termed it. 
 
 The morning came. The pistols were loaded and 
 primed. Before the hour-glass could again perform 
 its function, Henry, or Obadiah, or both of them, 
 might be no more numbered amongst the living 1 
 awful thought ! and yet I felt not half so uncomfort- 
 able as when I ascended the pulpit for the first time. 
 I had truly repented me of the crimes I was sensible 
 of having committed ; believed that I had made my 
 peace with heaven ; and was prepared to die. Indeed 
 I considered my death as inevitable, for Henry was a 
 first-rate shot ; he thirsted for my blood j and I had 
 fired at, and missed a door 1 
 
 We repaired to the scene for action; it was ten 
 minutes before six ; my antagonist, that was to be, did 
 not suffer me to cool my heeis long ; for in five after^ 
 wards, he rode furiously up, dismounted, and made at 
 me, frantic with rage. « Defend yourself." " I am 
 prepared to do so," said I. " Bravo," observed 
 M'Donald, " You are as cool and collected as I could 
 wish you to be." My brother-in-law fired and missed 
 me. I discharged my pistol in the air. He called 
 out to me to draw the other, said he was not at all 
 obliged to me for my forbearance, and that he never 
 would quit the contest, until one, or both of us fell. 
 I again received his fire, and was slightly wounded in 
 the arm, returned it, but without effect. Our pistols 
 were reloaded. M'Donald tapped me on the shoulder, 
 " You are a brave boy, a brave boy, we'll see 'em out, 
 if they are all trumps." We resumed our stations — 
 (it had been so agreed upon by our seconds,) and fired 
 
77 
 
 together. Henry fell, and I escaped unhurt. I sprang 
 to his assistance, but he dashed me from him indig- 
 nantly. He was shot through the body, and I feared 
 mortally wounded My surgeon without waiting for me 
 to desire him to do so, united his efforts with his, and 
 whilst they were probing his wound, his second, the 
 cousin, who had brought me the challenge, stepped 
 up to me, took my hand, and pressed il betwixt both of 
 his. Dr. Bloomfield, said he, you have acted most 
 nobly upon this trying and melancholy occasion. Come 
 what will, no blame can attach to you. I pray you 
 pardon me for my excessive rudeness, of yesterday. 
 I had not then seen my uncle and aunt, or, depend 
 upon it, I should not have been the bearer of such a 
 communication to you. A summary of his sister's 
 representations had been hastily given to me by your 
 brother-in-law,and I took it for granted, that she was 
 the most aggrieved woman upon earth. What a 
 weathercock is man ? Yesterday morning I could have 
 seen your throat cut with delight ; to-day, I felt as 
 much interested in your fate as though you had been my 
 brother. You must not return to town without a letter 
 from me to Henry's parents They shall be convinced, 
 that if their son does die, he is indebted to his own 
 obstinacy for it ; and that you are guiltless of his blood. 
 By this time the surgeons had got through the ex- 
 amination of their patient, bled him copiously, and pro- 
 nounced a doubtful prognostic He was tenderly re- 
 moved to the nearest inn, and put to bed. Being still 
 as inveterate as ever against me, I resolved to return 
 to the city, leaving my surgeon to act in conjunction 
 with his ; with a request that he would write me par- 
 tieularly by every mail how Henry did, for I sincerely 
 hoped he might recover. I was furnished with the 
 promised letter, and our homes soon received M'Do- 
 nald and myself. 
 
 My first care after my arrival was to despatch the 
 letter to my father-in-law. In about an hour he was 
 with me; burst into a flood of tears, and called me son. 
 <l If our Henry's madness costs him his life, you must 
 supply his place." The vile wretch has confessed all. 
 After perusing my nephew's letter, and communicating 
 its contents to my distracted wife ; I ordered her 
 h2 
 
78 
 
 to be called. She dared not disobey the summons. See - t 
 madam, said I, read this ! " It is your work." She 
 had scarcely cast her eyes over the paper ere her 
 aspect assumed a demoniacal appearance; '* I was sure 
 he would have killed him, he was so excellent a shot ; 
 and then I should have married my dearest dear 
 Blackheart, the only man I ever loved. He can 
 shoot too, but his precious life must not be endan- 
 gered; poison 1 let me see, yes, that will do. He 
 shall be poisoned. And then I shall be happiest of 
 the happy." We thought her frantic. It would have 
 been a mercy had she been so. My poor brother — he 
 thought me innocent, ha, ha, ha ! If he must die, let 
 him die in that belief; if it will avail him aught. But 
 I now glory in my shame, and this night shall give 
 me to my beloved. I can exist without him no longer. 
 Bloomfield told you the truth, old man ; and she 
 flounced out of the room. I made no effort to prevent 
 it, she has left my house, and has doubtless joined the 
 corrupt partner of her guilt. I endeavoured to soothe 
 the excellent man as much as in me lay. " If it only 
 pleases God to restore my Henry to us, I think I shall 
 be able to bear Maria's backsliding like a man. 
 For my poor boy to lose his life in such a cause is 
 horrible, insupportable. But come with me to your 
 mother-in-law, who is solicitous to see you, and assure 
 you she is not angry with you, and, by all means, take 
 your boy along." 
 
79 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 A specimen of Dr. Blackheart's epistolary powers, 
 
 TO go to Delaware and find their Henry a corpse, 
 would have been an aggravation of their wo ; and this 
 consideration at first deterred his parents from under- 
 taking to pay him a visit, but natural love soon pre- 
 vailed, and they set out on the journey. Previous to 
 their departure, however, we had positive information 
 that Maria was living openly with Blackheart in 
 Wilmington, Delaware. The intelligence did not oc- 
 casion me a momentary pang; on the contrary, I thanked 
 my lucky stars for being freed from a syren of such 
 peerless depravity. 
 
 The situation of Henry continued critical for several 
 days, but a very free use of the tancet, proper regimen, 
 and medicines, at length subdued every unfavourable 
 symptom ; and in fourteen days after our rencontre 
 my surgeon wrote me that he was out of all danger. 
 Singular to relate, a conviction of my innocence had 
 contributed greatly to so favourable a result ! No advice 
 could have been more grateful to my feelings. I hur- 
 ried to his sick bed as fast as my horses could carry 
 me. The warm-hearted, mistaken, and contrite, 
 Henry, is again my fast friend ! I remained with him 
 until he was able to travel, and we returned together. 
 
 So you have fought a duel, and in all probability kil- 
 led your man, was the surly remark of Obadiah, senior, 
 to me, the day after my return from the bloody field ; 
 fine doings for a christian truly. Pardon me for contra- 
 dicting you, father, but I did not fight a duej. Ah, my 
 son, don't make bad worse by attempting to salve it over 
 by calling it a rencontre. I tell you, Obadiah, it was a 
 duel to all intents and purposes, and if your brother-in- 
 law dies, in the eyes of God you will be his murderer. 
 Did not you go to Delaware for the express purpose 
 of being met and attacked by him ? Did not you carry 
 cof. McDonald's hair spring trigger pistols, the 
 
80 
 
 the most deadly of all weapons, along with you ? Were 
 not you first upon the ground ? And yet it was a 
 rencontre. I have had the dictionary looked for the 
 meaning of that word, and find that it implies a " sud- 
 den uncollected combat." And yet you rode some 
 fifty miles to put yourself in the way of it ! colonel 
 M' Donald is a very good worldly man, but he is too 
 much of a grandee, in his notions of honour, to be fit 
 company for a christian, such as you were. For shame, 
 Obadiah; call it no longer a rencontre, but a duel ; and 
 before you sleep to-night, pray to God to pardon you 
 for haying infringed one — nay two — of his most sacred 
 commandments. He is full of loving mercy, and you 
 will not call upon him in vain. Meanwhile your earth- 
 ly father forgives you : it is the first fault of note he 
 ever knew yon to commit, am! he trusts it will be the 
 last. But you are wounded in the arm, my darling ? 
 " A scratch honoured sir, a mere scratch." 1 have 
 known a cut of the finger bring on spasms and carry 
 off a hum on being. Have the best advice, my boy, 
 there's no knowing what may happen, there are so 
 many outlets to life. v ' I could al.nost find it in my heart 
 to bear malice against that Jezebel who has occasioned 
 all this mischief But no! A true christian loves 
 those who peisecute him, and I hope I am a true one, 
 although an ignorant old man." There was no getting 
 over the shrewd observations of the " old carpenter" 
 touching the rencontre^ as M'Oonaid would fain ha^e, 
 us call it When we fired together t?/iecial/y, there 
 was something so very like duelling in it, that, like 
 the (supposed) proximate cause of many diseases, it 
 might, without any great stretch of propriety, be con- 
 strued the " morbus ifiee" Psha ! Plague on it ! I 
 will smell of the shop — but set it down to the ac- 
 count of Dr Rush, not Obadiah junior. 
 
 Henry was declared out of danger, and I heard no 
 more lectures on the theme of duelling. Indeed my 
 father privately acknowledged to my mother, that as 
 it was so well over, he was glad it had happened, for 
 they now know that Oby will Jig /it, and will take care 
 how they meddle with him again. My late antagonist 
 was now perfectly recovered, and more devoted to me 
 than ever. To endeavour at the reformation of his 
 
81 
 
 sister was his first care, but he might just as soon have 
 reclaimed Moll Flanders. She would not even see 
 him — would not see that brother who had nearly lost 
 his life in defence of that, which she had not. She 
 sent him word, that she had rather a thousand times 
 " go upon the town" than return to her family, and 
 sustain their perpetual taunts for her dereliction from 
 virtue. She was incorrigible, and he abandoned her 
 to her fate. Blackheart wearing the cloak of a friend, 
 had free access to my house, and, availing himself of 
 the privilege, had seduced my wife; but, as I was 
 thoroughly impressed with the belief, from her natu- 
 ral temperament, that she had met him more than 
 half way ; I had determined to leave him to that pun- 
 ishment which is invariably sooner or later inflicted, 
 by the anguish of a guilty conscience In fact, 1 had 
 faithfully firomised my parents so to do. but the follow- 
 ing letter induced me to alter this determination; 
 
 I was ;v!^out to sit down to my dinner one day when 
 colonel M'Donald stepped in. " There is some- 
 thing which will perhaps act as a provocation to a good 
 appetite, Obadiah. Read it, and tell me what you think 
 of it. One of my countrymen would caii it a * bonnie 
 epastle.' It was pucinto my hands a short time since 
 by the gentleman to whom it is addressed, who is a 
 young man of sterling worth. Sucn a correspondent 
 is, however, no credit to him. He thought you ought 
 to see it, and I accord with him in sentiment. It was 
 written to him whilst in Charleston, South- Carolinia, 
 from whence he has but just returned, or it would have 
 been in your possession sooner." 
 
 THE LETTER. 
 
 Dear Theodore, 
 
 The substance, and length of this, 
 will I hope, prove a sufficient apology for my not hav- 
 ing written sooner. I have such glorious news to 
 communicate to you ! Prepare to envy me, you dog 
 for I have lived in clover for several weeks past. You 
 will scarcely believe me, but, upon honour, I am not 
 exercising the privilege of a traveller now. You recoi- 
 
82 
 
 lect our quondam school-fellc.v Obadiah Bloomfield, 
 and how very much attached we appeared tt be to each 
 other whilst at the academy. On his part it vas real — 
 I know it was — but it was impossible for a lad of spirit 
 (I was always a lad of spirit, was'nt I, Theodore?) to res- 
 pect, much less love such a canting, whining, sanctified, 
 piece of stuff as he was. By the bye, he was after- 
 terwards a "neihodist preacher, as I always predicted. 
 It was, however, convenient and necessary for me to 
 keep well with him. My father was an old skin-flint, 
 and allowed me but one dollar per week. — One dollar 
 per week for pocket money — but his furnished him 
 with cash enough for both of us. Many a time and 
 oft have I milked him of it until his purse was as empty 
 as a bottle that had not been filled for a century. His 
 purse then was the object of my adoration. — That I 
 loved with a most cordial affection ; and whenever a 
 fresh remittance arrived, a few sweet words were sure 
 to give me a controul over it. This state of things 
 continued until we separated, and I did not see my tool 
 again until my return from Edinburgh. I soon learnt 
 that he was married, and reckoned amongst the richest 
 men in the city. I instantaneously resolved to play 
 the same game over again ; waited upon him, and af- 
 fected to be almost overcome with joy at the sight of 
 him. I played my part, indeed, to a miracle. — Lavater 
 himself would not have suspected the imposition. The 
 gudgeon swallowed the bait with avidity, and I was in- 
 troduced to his wife as his first friend. Gods ! What 
 an inviting creature she was — my mouth watered as 
 I looked upon her ; and I instantly marked her for my 
 own. Friends should have every thing in common, 
 Theodore. I know you never mean to marry, or I 
 should not make such a declaration to you. I was re- 
 ceived by her in the most enchanting manner imagin- 
 able, and left nothing unessayed, to render myself as 
 agreeable as possible to them both. I was rewarded 
 by a pressing invitation to dine, and make his house 
 my home ; if I was not more comfortably accommo- 
 dated. Nothing could have better chimed in with my 
 views upon his better half, than a residence under the 
 ass's roof; had not our habits been so very dissimilar. 
 With him, every thing went on like clock work : a 
 
 
S3 
 
 regular hour for breakfasting, dining, supping, and 
 morning and evening prayers, into the bargain — Ha, 
 ha, ha ! I would never have been an acceptable inmate 
 in such a mansion. The cloven foot would have been 
 too soon visible. I however parried the thing with 
 admirable dexterity, and was requested to favour them 
 with as much of my company as could be spared from 
 other engagements. And I did favour them accord- 
 ingly — his wife frequently, without Obadiah's knowing 
 a syllable of the matter. Still, however, I was obliged 
 to feel my way with the utmost caution. She might 
 be a virtuous woman (this I doubted most damnably 
 from the second day of my acquaintance with her, but 
 the knowing ones are sometimes taken in), and, in that 
 case, would have blown me at once to her husband ; 
 had I presumed to offer to take any improper liberties 
 with her. His coffers, which I had already laid under 
 contribution to the tune of 2000 dollars, would then 
 have been for ever shut to me, and I should have had 
 to curse my own folly in secret for it. I went how- 
 ever as far as I durst with safety; extolled her beauty 
 and accomplishments to the skies; envied her husband 
 the possessor of such a jewel ; lamented that my ab- 
 sence from the country had prevented me from put- 
 ting in my claim, &c. &c. All which trumpery was 
 well received. I now unmasked my battery in con- 
 sequence of a young maid servant, (whom, I kept in pay) 
 reporting to me, that she heard her mistress say, in pre- 
 sence of her master,, that I was the most charming 
 man she had ever seen, and he expressed no displea- 
 sure at it. I always knew Obadiah to be a most egre- 
 gious coward, and as ignorant of the world as the suck- 
 ing babe ; (but I never believed him to be quite such a 
 great fool before,) I made love to her openly, and in less 
 than forty-eight hours introduced her, " nothing loth," 
 to a dark house. Admirable places these, ha, Theo- 
 dore? A few days afterwards we were surprised in 
 very suspicious circumstances by an old woman ser- 
 vant. The cuckold was from home visiting his charity 
 patients, and we were toying and kissing in his pai lour, 
 she sitting upon my knee ; whence opened the door, 
 and caught us in the fact. She started back — I beg 
 pardon, said she, but I verily thought it had been my 
 
84 
 
 master. This was delivered, with such a tone of cen- 
 sure, that I — even I — felt it, and was abashed. She re- 
 tired, and I expressed myapprehensionsto Maria, (that 
 is her name,) lest she should betray us. Make yourself 
 perfectly easy on that score, Edward. She dare not do 
 it. But apropos, I strongly suspect that my beautiful 
 spouse is jealous of us. You don't say so, said I, 
 alarmed at the idea of sporting no more with his dol- 
 lars. As sure as you are a living man, / think he is, 
 and you must not take it amiss if I use you like a dog 
 shortly ; whenever he is present. I shall avail myself 
 of the first convenient opportunity to tell him that I 
 abhor you, and pray him to forbid you the house. I 
 know he won't do it, but it will answer our purpose ef- 
 fectually. I myself accidentally afforded one in a day 
 or two ; Maria made use of it, and easily discovered 
 she had been correct in her conjectures ; but she 
 quizzed the dolt finely, and set all straight again. The 
 very next clay he was called to Boston by the illness of 
 a favourite sister, and has been absent five weeks, during 
 which, being his true friend, I have performed family 
 duty for him. When he will return I know not, but 
 between ourselves, as " constancy never was for me"— 
 I begin to get tired of the warm-constitutioned jade, 
 have sprung fresh game, and expect momentarily to 
 bring it down. Hasten back then, dearest Theodore, 
 and take her off my hands. You are a handsome lusty 
 youth, and will suit her to a T. Depend upon it, you 
 will have no difficulty to encounter. I'll underwrite 
 your success in a week, for a five-penny-bit. Hasten 
 back I say, or I shall be obliged to turn her over to 
 somebody else. / 
 
 Thine sleeping and waking, 
 
 as Old Spec, used to say. 
 
 Edward Blackheart. 
 
 Theodore Z. Thompson, Esq. 
 
 I could scarcely command patience enough to get 
 through this infamous scrawl. Never had my passion 
 completely put down my reason before. I was indeed 
 beside myself. " Nonsense," said M'Donald, " there 
 
85 
 
 is no necessity for all this boiling over. It will only 
 bring on a head-ache." I had been dancing about the 
 floor, and uttering imprecation after imprecation. 
 " What do you mean to do ? You must act first, and 
 vow vengeance afterwards. That's our way in dear 
 Scotland." Do, said I, I'll see the fiend's heart's 
 blood ; I'll tear him limbless. What a blind dupe 
 have I been ! " Come, come, Obadiah ; this will never 
 do ; you are no longer a boy. It is impossible that 
 you can condescend to fight with such a reptile, and 
 I am sure you would not be a murderer. You must 
 horsewhip him, my son, and soundly too, and the sooner 
 'tis done the better. Suppose we set off on the expe- 
 dition to-morrow, for I am determined to witness the 
 sport. It would be an indelible disgrace to use pow- 
 der and ball against such « carrion.' " The mention of 
 " horsewhip" acted like a charm upon my angry 
 feelings, and speedily restored my inward peace. I 
 gave into the scheme with rapture. " We must take 
 1 Sweetlips' (his pistols) along with us Oby, for fear 
 of accidents, and your brother-in-law will doubtless 
 like also to see the show." (He had previously apolo- 
 gised in the handsomest manner to the colonel for his 
 harsh treatment of him, and was become a great fa- 
 vourite of his.) Invite him by all means. — I shall do 
 so with much pleasure. You certainly were destined 
 to be my guardian angel, my dearest sir; already am I 
 indebted to you for my life, for had it not been for 
 your arrangement that we should fire together, Henry 
 would without doubt have killed me upon the late pain- 
 ful occasion — And — now — Heaven only knows, what 
 rash act I should have committed, without your coun- 
 sel. But the horsewhip is as music to my ears. I 
 will immediately procure me one calculated for actual 
 and lasting service, through the medium of my coach- 
 man, who ought to be a judge of such commodities. 
 He was sent for, and the necessary orders given. 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
86 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 The Flagellation. 
 
 MR. THOMPSON had, highly to his honour, 
 written to Blackheart, declining all further communi- 
 cation with a man of his stamp, and apprising him 
 that he had forwarded his hateful letter to me. Not- 
 withstanding Obadiah was " an egregious coward," 
 it appears, that the disclosure was highly unpalatable 
 to him. From that moment he considered his life in 
 jeopardy, and nothing but want of funds prevented 
 him from flying to some distant place, in order to get 
 out of the way of his " tool.*' He provided himself 
 with pistols, and did not wait many hours before he 
 had an opportunity to use them. We entered Wil- 
 mington incog, (having put off our journey one day 
 in order to have Henry with us, whose business called 
 for such delay) and a messenger was despatched to him 
 with colonel M'Donald's compliments desiring to see 
 him, at the tavern where we put up, on business of 
 importance. The really chicken-hearted doctor en- 
 quired, with fear and trembling, if the colonel was 
 alone ? and was replied to in the affirmative. Then 
 I'll wait upon him immediately, and he was as good 
 as his word. M'Donald received him with a ma- 
 licious grin. Your most obedient, Dr. Blackheart, I 
 hope Mrs. Bloomfield is quite well. — Mrs. Bloomfield 
 sir ! upon my honour sir, it is not in my power to 
 answer your question, for it is many weeks since I— 
 saw — that — lady. — I understood she was with you.— 
 With me sir ! I assure you, you are altogether misin- 
 formed, why should she be with me ? do you know that 
 letter sir ? (sternly) That letter, sir, let me see, bless 
 me ; it has my name signed to it. A forgery ! a vile 
 and audacious forgery sir, as I'm a living creature. 
 I never set eyes upon it before, as I hope to be saved. — 
 There is a person now in the house who will swear to the 
 
87 
 
 authenticity of it. Shall I call him ? — By no means sir, 
 there's not the least necessity for it — fending and 
 proving was ever my aversion, and besides I am par- 
 ticularly engaged, and must bid you a good afternoon.— 
 Not until you have seen this person, take my word for 
 it. Obadiah come into court. " Mr. Bloomfield ! he's 
 the last man upon earth I would choose to see ;" and 
 made an effort to escape, but the colonel was too quick 
 for him, and secured the door. Henry and myself 
 entered the room " I am under manifold obligations 
 to you, Dr. Blackheart, and an opportunity is now 
 afforded me to repay them, observed I, leisurely un- 
 winding the whip lash, for I resolved to proceed coolly 
 to business. Don't do it, Obadiah, don't do it, I'll kill 
 you if you do, for I am armed ; drawing a pistol from 
 his pocket ; and so am I, following his example. I 
 now made towards him, the whip in my right hand, 
 and pistol in my left ; and began to dust his jacket with 
 a hearty good will. The pusillanimous seducer suffer- 
 ed his pistol to fall from his hand, and roared aloud for 
 mercy. The noise assembled the good people of the 
 house ; who were not a little astonished and diverted 
 at viewing one man tamely submit to be horsewhipped 
 by another. I had given him at least fifty, well laid on, 
 when he espied an open window, and made his escape 
 through it, but I was as active as he, and followed up 
 the discipline through the most public street, to the 
 very door of his lodgings; to the no small amusement 
 of the populace, who cheered as he whisked along a 
 distance not far short of three hundred yards ! To 
 make my triumph complete, and my revenge more 
 sweet, the flagellation was witnessed by Maria ; who 
 was attracted to a window by the noise, and whom I 
 distinctly saw. Old colonel M'Donald, who brought 
 up the rear, added to the general mirth by frequently 
 hallooing out, " whip the scoundrel well, Obadiah, don't 
 spare his carcase." Cowards are always cruel to those 
 in their power. Blackheart discarded the lost Maria, 
 and kicked her into the street, as I afterwards learnt, 
 that very night, in consequence of her reviling him for 
 not using those pistols, which he had so ostentatiously 
 loaded in her presence. We returned to our lodgings 
 perfectly satisfied with the issue of the undertaking, 
 
88 
 
 and were refreshing ourselves after our fatigue, with a 
 glass of punch, when several of the most respectable 
 inhabitants, who were acquainted with our old friend ; 
 called to pay their respects to him. Henry and my- 
 self were introduced, and we received several invita- 
 tions for the evening, which the peculiar circumstan- 
 ces in which we stood, prevented us from accepting. 
 Henry's sister, and the woman who had made me a 
 father, was hard by ; the kept mistress of one of the 
 offscourings of the earth. We should have been insen- 
 sate, had we not felt this as we ought. We had no 
 further call to Wilmington, and might have been com- 
 fortable any where else ; but our quadrupeds had been 
 hard driven, and required some repose ; nor would it 
 come amiss to ourselves. We however insisted upon 
 colonel McDonald's going whither he listed, and pri- 
 vately engaged him to impart so much of our story to 
 our accomplished visiters as would content them, that 
 they had not thrown away their intended hospitality 
 upon ingrates. He departed with his friends, we set 
 us down to a game of chess, and whiled away the time 
 until his return, when Morpheus made willing subjects 
 of the whole concern. Henry and myself occupied 
 the same apartment. About daylight the next mor- 
 ning we were awakened by a loud rap at the door. 
 The latch was turned, and in stalked the colonel, ac- 
 companied by an elderly gentleman, whom we had 
 not before seen. I am sorry to disturb you, my lads, 
 quoth the former, but this prototype of Lucifer is not 
 yet sufficiently curried — he is courting another basting, 
 and you Henry must greet him with it. There is a 
 small balance due him by you, but I had hoped it 
 might be dispensed with ; his stomach is too voracious 
 for that though. Give me leave to introduce you to 
 Mr. Allworthy, a magistrate of Wilmington. This 
 done, we were notified that Blackheart had applied to 
 him for warrants against us all, but that he had decli- 
 ned issuing them over night, purposing to see us first 
 and learn particulars ; which accounted for his unsea- 
 sonable visit. We thanked him for his forbearance, 
 the necessary explanations were entered into, and 
 Blackheart's famous letter tendered him for examina- 
 tion. We had dressed ourselves, and I was busied 
 
89 
 
 in reading the physiognomy of this " man of peace j" 
 I had long since been an enthusiastic disciple of La- 
 vater. Never had I looked upon so unexceptionable 
 a male face, the cardinal virtues shone out at every 
 line of it. I conceited that it was indeed Fielding's 
 Allworthy who stood before me ! We had not fallen 
 into the hands of the Philistines here. " I have fre- 
 quently read of such characters, " remarked Mr. All- 
 worthy, when he had done with the letter," but hitherto 
 supposed them to be creatures of the poet's brain. 
 I lament that a discretionary power does not belong 
 to my office, but his affidavit is already with me, and I 
 am bound by my oath to act upon it. He is to call at 
 my house for the warrants about this time ; but I can 
 easily postpone granting them until eleven o'clock. 
 If you think proper to leave the city in the interim, 
 they cannot be served of course." We took the hinW 
 and immediately ordered our carriage. " You have 
 not heard perhaps," continued he," that the barbarian 
 was cruel enough to kick the unfortunate woman out 
 of doors last night." " My sister kicked out of doors, 
 and I alive to hear it — gracious God." " Himself 
 boasted of committing the atrocious act to me." Henry 
 heard no more, he caught up cololonel M'D'-nald's 
 stick, and was in the street in a twinkling ; we follow- 
 ed, but he was already out of sight. That he had gone 
 in quest of Blackheart was not to be doubted. We 
 proceeded to his lodgings, his host informed us that 
 he was gone to the justice's, and no gentleman had 
 been there in search of him. We enquired for poor 
 Maria; he knew not what had become of her, after 
 she was so ignominiously used by her paramour. We 
 now thought it most probable that my brother-in-law 
 had obtained directions to Mr. Allworthy's and, inter- 
 cepted the doctor whilst going thither ; which was the 
 fact. When we came up with them we found that he 
 had given him what an Irishman would call " a nate 
 twigging with his shillala." In fact Blackheart really 
 was, or pretended to be, unable to move, " I presume 
 your carriage is by this time ready," said Mr. A. with 
 emphasis. A word from the wise ought ever to be 
 sufficient. In fifteen minutes Wilmington no longer 
 contained us. We travelled with rapidity until we 
 
 i2 
 
90 
 
 had passed the boundaries of Delaware; and then 
 walked our horses to the first inn. We were now 
 safe from all pursuit, if any was intended ; and resolv- 
 ed to remain where we were for that night. 
 
 As Blackheart was not yet reconciled to his father, 
 who had threatened to disinherit him as a just punish- 
 ment for his late scandalous conduct ; it was not un- 
 likely that Maria had been thrown upon the world des- 
 titute and pennyless. She was generous to a fault, 
 and necessarily but an indifferent economist. It was 
 therefore presumable, that she had carried but little 
 money with her, and equally so, that that little was 
 already expended for their joint maintenance. Com- 
 mon humanity therefore dictated to us the propriety of 
 forwarding to her an immediate supply. We could 
 not think of her being brought to want : and according- 
 ly hired as an express, a countryman, for whose 
 honesty our landlord vouched, and took the liberty to 
 write to Mr. Allworthy, enclosing what we deemed a 
 sufficient sum, with an earnest entreaty that he would 
 find her out, if in Wilmington ,and give it her, without 
 intimating whence it came. The next evening re- 
 stored us tojour homes and friends, I found my boy as 
 well as I could wish him, and it was next in order to 
 pay my duty to my parents. I had left — without taking 
 leave of them. They had found out that M'Donald and 
 Henry were of the party, and hourly expected to hear 
 of the spilling of more blood. " He has returned" 
 hallooed Obadiah senior to his Deborah, who happened 
 to be in another room, " and is apparently unhurt.'* 
 Have you again escaped my son ? — I am as well as ever 
 I was, my father. Blessed be God for it ! we have been 
 in a piteous taking during your absence, my boy. I 
 hope every thing is now settled, and that you will 
 frighten us no more. Every thing is now settled, 
 honoured sir, and to my entire satisfaction. I am 
 grieved that you anticipated evil, and were unhappy on 
 my account. I trust it is the last heart-ache which ever 
 will be inflicted upon either of you by me. Amen ! 
 said the pious man. But you have not kept your 
 word with us, Oby — It is painful to me to reproach 
 you with it, but to break a solemn promise is a very 
 serious thing, a sin. I am sure you have been in pur- 
 
91 
 
 suit of Blackheart, of whom you had pledged yourself 
 to take no notice. Circumstances alter cases, father, 
 listen and blame me afterwards, if you can. My mother 
 had by this time joined us, and I read Blackheart's 
 letter to them. A profound silence of some minutes 
 ensued. 'Tis too much ! at last, said Obadiah senior. 
 Old and enfeebled as I am, I would not have pocketed 
 it, (and he spoke with great warmth) blame you indeed ! 
 such provocation would almost absolve one from an 
 oath. I hope you overtook him, and used the black- 
 guard as he deserved. I made him feel the weight 
 of my arm until he was sick of it. You beat him then ? 
 No but I horsewhipped him soundly. Served him 
 right, served him right. And he actually got up, and 
 capered about the room. Did he make no resistance ? 
 He took it as kindly as he would another thousand dollars 
 from my coffers, those coffers which he will lay under 
 contribution no longer. In a few days a letter was 
 brought me from Mr. Allworthy by mail. He had 
 been diligent in his inquiries regarding Maria, and 
 had with some difficulty, ascertained that she had 
 sailed in a packet bound to New York the very day 
 after her rupture with the doctor. He was still con- 
 fined to his bed by the bruises which he had received 
 from Henry, but considerably better than he had been ; 
 and was become a sincere penitent ! Yes, incredible as 
 it does appear, Mr. A. has no doubt of the fact! time 
 will test the reality of his conversion. A man of little 
 faith, as it respects his case, I am slow of belief. I 
 have known many hardened sinners terrified into a just 
 sense of the enormity of their transgressions, when 
 lying on what was supposed to be the bed of death ; 
 and lotfd in promises of amendment should life be 
 spared to them, but no sooner had they recovered 
 health and strength, than they returned to their evil 
 courses with a tenfold gout. The Lord, in his infinite 
 mercy grant, that it may not be thus with Blackheart. 
 
92 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 Dark Houses. 
 Engendered in Hell — the ojfs firing of the Devil. 
 
 AS honesty has ever been, and ever will be, the 
 best policy, before I fairly enter upon the object now 
 had in view, it may not be amiss for me to warn all 
 ladies under forty and five — Wilkes's number, to pass 
 on to the twenty-fourth chapter. The less they hear 
 of dark houses and bundling the better. A luscious- 
 ly amorous tale will sometimes excite corresponding 
 emotions in the chastest bosom. It has never been 
 my intention to bring a blush upon the cheek of mo- 
 desty. Should I have done so already, it has been an 
 error of the head, not of the heart — the subject mat- 
 ter, and not the historian, is in fault — for — I am bound 
 to give you the black, as well as the white side of the 
 picture. — " Nothing extenuate, nor set down aught in 
 malice." If therefore, my fair readers, have stum- 
 bled upon any thing resembling " a double entendre," 
 in the course of the preceding pages ; in justice and 
 equity the indecorum is not chargeable to me. Here- 
 after I pledge myself to be more circumspect, and 
 whenever any thing bordering on the brogue^ that is, 
 has a leaning towards smut, is about to leak out — the 
 signal shall be the same as is made use of, at day 
 dawn, by the Edinburgh servant maids, when they are 
 about to impregnate its atmosphere with the most de- 
 lightful of all sweet smelling odours — " Garde Loo ! i" 
 If, in contravention of such salutary admonition, you 
 will read the interdicted lines, your blushes be — upon — 
 your — own — faces ! I have thought proper to exempt 
 ladies of and over forty-five, from such restriction, be- 
 cause they will have lived long enough in the world, 
 if they have not grossly mispent their time, to read 
 any thing, even books of infidelity, with safety and im- 
 punity. Not that I am of opinion the dear elderly 
 creatures should not marry after forty-Jive. Far be 
 
' 93 
 
 such illiberality and cruelty from me ! Ours is a free 
 country, and the ladies, above all, should do as they 
 please in that respect, even though they be four score 
 and ten ! ! ! Besides, I know a lady of fifty-two, who 
 was ground young and brought forth twins ! Fact 
 upon my veracity as parson, physician, and historian. 
 There's encouragement for such of you as are fifty to 
 take another draught of the matrimonial cup, and to 
 drink deeply too ; as perchance your time may be but 
 short. Who knows but a son may yet remain quietly 
 inurned among the ovaria, who, if you only bestir your- 
 selves, will break loose from his trammels, and one 
 day become an admiral ! (for depend upon it we shall 
 ere long boast of admirals in our navy.) Your having 
 no teeth is no reason that you should not conceive. 
 " Mit Got's plessing, and py his goot lefe, a man may 
 pite off his own noshe !" In imitation of that great 
 transatlantic luminary, George Alexander Stevens, 
 •whose " Lectures on Heads" put bread into the 
 mouths of many a hero of the sock and buskin ; and who 
 learnedly observes, in his profound dissertation on 
 law — that — "law is law" — I — Obadiah, junior, an- 
 nounce, without fear of contradiction, to Jew and Gen- 
 tile, Mahometan and Pagan, that bundling — is bund- 
 ling ! " I protest against such definition — I am a yan- 
 key, and my father was a native of Yorkshire (Eng.). 
 You must not attempt to hoax me. You firomised us 
 a chapter on bundling, and I will have my penny- 
 worth — I guess as how I will." " Refresh your me- 
 mory, petulant sir, and / guess you will find a condi- 
 tion annexed to it." " True — but I considered it as 
 a joke, well knowing you had not children to deal with 
 — however, you are an odd mortal — a most whimsical 
 M. D. — and disposed to have your own way in every 
 thing. I acknowledge I was hasty, and will cheerful- 
 ly compound for whatever dish you may be pleased to 
 serve up to us ; only let it be well seasoned, or the 
 hyp, with which I am at present tormented, will not 
 be chased away." You may lead me with a cobweb to 
 the end of the world, my dear sir, but I am not to be 
 driven an inch, even by Bonaparte, or Wellington, or 
 Blucher, with all their invincibles at their backs* You 
 are a prey to the hyp, you say. I have imbibed the 
 
49 
 
 infection from you then, or the wind is easterly to-day. 
 Indeed it must blow from that quarter, for nobody ap- 
 pears to be at home in my upper story. Again, it 
 will be impossible for me to set a higly flavoured 
 dish before you, without a proper intermixture of wit 
 and humour. Now as I, in my best days, only laid 
 claim to the possession of a very small spice of the 
 latter, — how is the olla podrida to be manufactured 
 (by me) without the aid of plagiarism ? — Humour is 
 very frequently mistaken for wit, candid sir. — I know 
 it — and when the wind changes, will endeavour to ga- 
 ther together my scattered wits, and palm some of it 
 off accordingly, . 
 
 Garde Loo ! Garde Loo ! Garde Loo ! 
 
 I can readily perceive, by the contour of your phiz, 
 my dear half Yorkshire — half Yankey friend, that you 
 are dying to know what bundling is, and am consider- 
 ably embarrassed thereat ; because the wholesome 
 practice is kept up in your Yankey state of Connecticut 
 to this day. To what cause then is your ignorance of 
 such mode to be ascribed ? Not to parsimony — bund- 
 ling, costs nothing. I will put the most favourable 
 construction upon it. You have been but lately un- 
 loosed from " dear mama's apron string" — and, mo- 
 dest soul ! are yet to learn that woman was made for 
 man. Ha ! ha ! ha ! that's a good one, as Shelty 
 would say, and reminds me of a story in point. Once 
 upon a time, a match was made up, by the old folks, 
 betwixt a beautiful and buxom damsel and a very stu- 
 pid young lad, who had not as yet been initiated into 
 the mysteries of Venus. Well, the knot of knots 
 was tied, ond Solomon required to salute his bride. 
 " Stop father," said he, " let me go and look into the 
 Dictionary first." " For what, you fool ?" " Why in- 
 deed and I don't know what < salute' means." " Kiss 
 her, you simpleton," said his mother. " Why la, 
 ma, an't you ashamed to bid me be so rude. Miss 
 would slap my chaps if I went for to do such a thing." 
 The cake was drawn through the ring, ample jus- 
 tice done to the eatables and drinkables, and our new 
 married couple bedded. The girl's family invariably 
 breakfasted at sunrise, but had no expectation of the 
 
95 
 
 bride's making one of the party : however she was up 
 and dressed in time and took a seat with them. Albe- 
 it she ate not — but sat silent, and looked — wondrous 
 serious and — monstrous sulky. Joan smelt a rat. Old 
 married ladies have excellent noses in matters of 
 matrimony. " Where is your husband, my dear ?" 
 said she to her daughter. " My husband," echoed 
 
 she ! " husband ! oh, you mean Mr. , I left him 
 
 asleep !" " Follow me into the next room, Beatrice— 
 I wish to speak to you in private." She was catechis- 
 ed, and the experienced dame convinced, that her 
 daughter might just as well have been put to bed to 
 a log. Benedict had gone to sleep, instead of attend- 
 ing to his connubial duties ! Alas, poor Beatrice — 
 how grievously wast thou disappointed ! Fye — fye— 
 Mr. Author — aren't you ashamed of yourself ? Where- 
 fore ? If you will put evil constructions upon my in- 
 
 cent meanings — I can't help it — not I. Besides 
 did not I cry " Garde Loo !" which means, according 
 to Winifred Jenkins' translation — " The Lord have 
 mercy upon your hats, caps, coats, petticoats, &c. Sec." 
 
 In my youthful days I set out on a visit of pleasure 
 to New York, accompanied by a friend, much about 
 my own age. It was necessary for us to pass through 
 New Jersey, and we were determined not to lose so 
 fair an opportunity of being eye witnesses of the man- 
 ner in which the humbler class BUNDLE in that 
 state. (Yankey, Ah now we are about to get it in 
 good truth.) We travelled a few miles out of our 
 way into a county famous for it, put up our vehicle at 
 an inn, about two miles distant from a farmer's, who 
 was said to have some beautiful daaghters ; and set 
 off on foot for his residence, about sunset. We pur- 
 posely loitered on the way, and did not reach it until 
 dark, knocked boldly at the door, and asked a shelter 
 for the night. But we had nearly reckoned without 
 our host, for the farmer was extremely ill-disposed to 
 accommodate such guests, being well assured, from 
 our appearance, that we were not pedestrians in reali- 
 ty, and came there after no good. Our guns however 
 saved us. We told him we had been shooting, which 
 was a fact (in the morning) ; had lost our way (which 
 was, we trusted, excusable, although false ; goaded on 
 
96 
 
 as we were by a triple portion oifctnality — I mean fe- 
 male curiosity, unlearned reader), and offered to pay 
 handsomely for our fare and lodging. After asking 
 us as many questions as a native of Connecticut would 
 have done ; I intend no offence to you, my Yankee 
 friend ; he, very reluctantly, suffered us to enter his 
 habitation, wherein we found a mammoth table laid 
 for supper, and his wife and ten children sitting around 
 (what we greatly needed, it being a very cool even- 
 ing), a good fire ; but as to compensation he would 
 not hear of it. Now that we were fairly under his 
 roof, our host doff'd his sour looks and treated us; 
 hospitably indeed ! — Yankee. And I have an idea his 
 sparkling cider paid for it. — Author. You are in the 
 right on't.) Not so our hostess, who scowled at us 
 from under her long black eye-lashes, and drawled 
 out a scarcely audible monosyllable, whenever we en- 
 deavoured to engage her in conversation. Some ma- 
 ternal advice stood me in stead at this crisis, and I 
 will impart it for your benefit in particular, my male 
 readers ; as I never knew it to fail, and as it has fre- 
 quently procured for me, in the course of my travels, 
 the very best the house afforded, when, in all proba- 
 bility, had I not practised upon it, I should have had 
 to set down to a " beggarly account of empty" platters ! 
 " Ever bear this in mind my son, if you wish to get 
 suddenly into the good graces of the mother of a fami- 
 ly, always pay great attention to, and take particular 
 notice of, her children, especially the youngest, who 
 is generally the pet. If you can conscientiously praise 
 them for their beauty, so much the better ; and a little 
 small change, when you deal with the poor, will never 
 be ill bestowed." (Between ourselves, I have found 
 it answer precisely as well with the rich.) The dame's 
 youngest child was about four years ol 1, and really a 
 pretty boy. The trinkets attached to my watch chain 
 attracted his attention ; he cautiously reconnoitered 
 my countenance ; and seeing nothing forbidding in 
 it, ventured to take hold of, and play with them. His 
 mother bid him " quit," with an angry tone of voice, 
 but I encouraged, and soon prevailed upon him to take 
 a seat on my lap ; extolled his beauty, kissed him, and 
 after we became sociable, made him a present of a sii- 
 
97 
 
 ver dollar. (Our country was not inundated then, 
 financiering reader, as it is now, with paper trash.) I 
 now ventured to take a sly peep at the phiz of our 
 cross hostess, and — verily, verily, I say unto you, 
 friend Yankee, it was shortened at least an inch. Proud 
 of his prize, the urchin soon " quit" me, and exulting- 
 ly exhibited it to mother, sisters, and brothers. I 
 thought I might at this moment dare to take a good 
 look at the grown-up daughters. They were three in 
 number, two of them handsome, and to judge by their 
 smiling looks, nve were not considered as intruders by 
 them. Supper was announced, and the mistress of the 
 house, in a charming humour, for my friend, more 
 liberal than myself, had given a dollar a piece to her 
 three other young children. (Yankee. You paid 
 dearly for supper, 1 think. Author. But the bundling, 
 my dear fellow; the bundling!!! Yankee. Is yet 
 to come.) Our walk had given us an unusually good 
 appetite, and we played an excellent knife and fork. 
 (A Carolina phrase, curious reader.) The free-and- 
 easy meal ended, and thanks returned therefor, the 
 viands and table were removed, and preparations for 
 our lodging began to be made. There were but two 
 rooms to the house. (Yankee. So much the better.) 
 A field bed extending from the hearth to the chamber 
 partition was speedily ready. We were directed to 
 sleep next to the chimney; the three girls next to the 
 chamber, and two young men, their brothers, in the 
 centre ; as a barrier betwixt us, I presume. The 
 dame retired to the chamber with the younger chil- 
 dren, and was soon followed by her husband, after he 
 had carefully outed the fire and candles, and apologised 
 to us for the necessity he was under of requiring us 
 to undress in the dark. And this is what is termed 
 bundling !!I (Yankee. True. And I guess as how 
 you both walked in your sleep, ha, ha, ha. Author. 
 That's tellings!!!) 
 
 The restriction is not yet taken off. 
 
 Garde loo ! Garde loo ! Garde loo !!! 
 What is a dark house ? the untravelled and innocent 
 ^reader will very naturally enquire. It is a place of 
 issignation, kept for the vilest purposes, by one of 
 "le devil's imps, usually ycleped — a procuress. This 
 vol. i. K 
 
98 ; , 
 
 abandoned wretch is wonderfully accommodating, for it 
 it be inconvenient for the gentleman to cater for him- 
 self, she will, at a very short notice, provide him with 
 a lady !!! in which case the parties are necessarily un- 
 known to each other, and most generally continue to 
 be so, so far as it regards their names. You are 
 doubtless astonished, my moral male readers, at my 
 making use of the word " lady ;" and with good reason, 
 but I cannoi, consistently with truth and my duty, 
 substitute another for it. These dark houses are 
 never frequented by known " free and easy lasses" 
 (who occupy buildings well lighted up), but by mem- 
 bers of the genteeler classes of the community — ladies 
 by birth and education are the source from whence 
 they derive their encouragement and support. You 
 shudder ! the heart's-blood flies into my face, and I 
 blush — whilst — I — write — it — down — blush for the 
 wantonness — the depravity — and degeneracy, of my 
 fair countrywomen ! 
 
 In these sinks of corruption — " Tell it not in Gath ; 
 publish it not in the streets of Askalon ;" in these man- 
 sions befitting the damned; a father, a loving father, has 
 been introduced to his only daughter and child ; a 
 tender husband to his faithless wife ; and an affectionate 
 brother to his unworthy sister !!! You are not only in- 
 credulous, but consider me as an infamous calumniator 
 of " God's first and best gift to man ;" and, such is my 
 respect, veneration and adoration for the chaste part 
 of the sex, that I should be proud to confess, in the 
 presence of the world, that I have been romancing ; 
 
 but these are facts, notorious in ; and it 
 
 is equally so, that something very like an interposition 
 of Divine Providence, prevented the commission of 
 crimes which would have effectually destroyed their 
 peace of mind, so long as they sojourned upon this 
 earth ; and endangered their happiness hereafter. 
 The parties are invariably ushered into a dark room, 
 * They preferring darkness to light, because their 
 deeds are evil," and disguise their voices as much as 
 is practicable. In these instances it was not sufficiently 
 well done, and a general recognition was the happy 
 consequence. Is there is a living pen adequate to the 
 description of what must have been the feelings of the 
 
99 
 
 father; husband ; brother; at those awful moments? 
 I boldly and unhesitatingly answer in the negative ; 
 and would recount to you the dreadful results, but my 
 soul sickens at the recollection of them. * * * * 
 
 People of P— ; N , and I fear I may add, B — , 
 
 where is your religion ; your morality ; your public 
 spirit ? Above all, where is your police ? Slumbering, I 
 suppose, in the tomb of the Capulets. Are you not 
 aware that it is a crying sin to connive at such atroci- 
 ties ? Are ye quite sure that the fate of Sodom and Go- 
 morrah does not await you? Awaken, I conjure you ; 
 awaken from your twenty years lethargy, or voluntary 
 blindness, and apply the proper corrective. To abo- 
 lish a dark house is no Herculean task ; you have but 
 to will it, and it is done ; for the power is in you, and 
 if you do not exercise it — wo be unto you I 
 
100 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 The Penitent. 
 
 FOR two years after the supposed reformation of the 
 gallant doctor, nothing worthy of record happened 
 either to me, or mine, except positive accounts of the 
 fate of the ill-starred Maria. Shortly after her arrival 
 in New York, she found her way into one of the bro- 
 thels with which that city abounded, and still abounds ; 
 reigned lady paramount for a season, then acquired 
 (as is almost always the case with those hapless fe- 
 males who are lost to all sense of decency and shame) 
 a predilection for strong drink, and soon became a 
 very slave to that most odious vice. Her paramours 
 soon deserted her (for what can be more disgusting 
 than a drunken woman ?), and she was now a prey to 
 disease, and encountering the very extremity of want. 
 You may very well imagine, kind-hearted and charit- 
 able reader, that many hours did not elapse, after the 
 receipt of this lamentable intelligence, ere Henry and 
 myself were at her bedside, ministering to her relief. 
 
 But oh, what an interview ! what an interview !!! 
 Were I to live a million of years, so deeply is it graven 
 on the tablet of my memory, that it would be as fresh 
 in my recollection as it is at this hour J * * * * 
 * * * * Ah . y e frequenters of dark houses!! 
 could you only have witnessed it, you Avould be har- 
 dened indeed if you did not turn from the errors of 
 your ways, a assume a virtue if you had it not ;" and 
 learn to properly appreciate the inestimable value of 
 modesty and chastity. 
 
 Maria was once one of the loveliest of the lovely ; 
 one of the fairest of the fair ; look at her, lying hope- 
 less and forlorn on the bed of death ! where are her 
 beauties now ? gone, for ever gone ! not a vestige of 
 them remains, for she is an object shocking to behold ! 
 the wife and sister is recognized by the husband and 
 
101 
 
 brother only through the medium of a remarkable 
 mark I the lack-lustre eye ; the bloated and livid- 
 coloured face ; and ulcerated carcase ; are all that re- 
 main of that Maria, whose personal attractions com- 
 manded the admiration of all who looked upon her, 
 but two short years before !!! You visit dark houses, do 
 you ? they are prefatory to a brothel. Pause then 
 I implore you ; pause, in your mad career ; and re- 
 flect upon the probable consequences. As yet you 
 are not utterly undone. Thus far your character 
 stands fair with the world. Your associates know not 
 of your lewdness. Your secret may remain safely bu- 
 ried in your own bosom. Repent you thoroughly of 
 the sins already committed, and tread the delusive 
 paths of vice no more. 
 
 Maria knew us ; covered her face with the bed- 
 clothes, and wept aloud ! A Nero or a Caligula would 
 almost have kept her company. A distressed widow 
 with four children, whom she maintained with the 
 sweat of her brow, had found her lying in the snow in 
 the street (she had been turned out of the brothel), and 
 gave her a shelter, else she might have perished there > 
 for she was very much intoxicated. Read this, Mrs. 
 or Miss Gadder to dark houses, and then to dinner 
 with what appetite you may. The excellent woman, 
 into whose truly christian hands our wretched relative 
 had fallen ; had not only taxed her scanty means to 
 procure for her nourishing food, and abundant cover- 
 ing, but, as soon as she was in fit condition, communed 
 with her on the state of her soul ; frankly telling her, 
 that a few clays more and the sun would set upon her 
 mortal career. This was as a thunder-clap to the 
 object of her charity. Situated as she was, it was im- 
 possible that she could wish to live ; indeed she did 
 not ; but she was yet afraid, terribly afraid to die I 
 To die, carries nothing forbidding and dreadful 
 along with it to the pious and the good ; many of 
 these thirst for the moment when they are to put 
 off this mortality for that immortality ; an im- 
 mortality of blessedness ; but to the bad ; awful sum- 
 mons ! horrible, most horrible sound ! Erring, sin- 
 ful mortal, thy soul is demanded of thee!!! Enter ye 
 faithful stewards into the mansions of my father ; for 
 in my father's house there ? :q many mansions ; oz% 
 
 k2 
 
102 
 
 depart, ye cursed ; whither ; ah whither ! enquire of 
 your consciences, and they will respond you faithfully. 
 To die, is a debt which we all know we are one day 
 to pay : but, alas ! how few of us is there satisfied of 
 our readiness to pay it, safely pay it, on demand* 
 
 The tortures of the damned can scarcely exceed 
 those now experienced by the miserable Maria, certain 
 
 as she was that everlasting must be her lot, 
 
 for few women are better versed in holy writ than she 
 was, and at this awful period, spite of herself, she was 
 a believer ! She groaned therefore in the spirit, and 
 with convulsive sobs told Mrs. Harmony (that was her 
 kind entertainer's name), that for her there was no 
 hope; that she had spurned at, and trampled under 
 foot, the most sacred laws, both human and divine ; 
 that although she believed firmly in a Saviour, she had 
 no opinion of a hasty death-bed repentance, however 
 thorough it might be ; and that she considered herself, 
 body and soul, as a lost creature. Her feelings now 
 so completely got the better of her that she fainted, 
 but speedily recovered through the good management 
 of Mrs. H.j who was overjoyed to find her in such a 
 frame of mind; sent for a devout and able divine, and 
 introduced him to her. She received his visit most 
 kindly, and made a full and free confession of all her 
 backslidings to him : adding, that she dared not pray, 
 and had been too vile a sinner ever to be forgiven, or 
 make her peace with God. He rebuked her for suc- 
 cumbing to the foul fiend Despair ; comforted her, 
 encouraged her to put her whole trust in our blessed 
 Redeemer, who is great and mighty, and willing to save; 
 who calls not the righteous but sinners to repentance ; 
 and pray to him to intercede for a pardon for her at the 
 throne of grace. He next prayed for her, and then 
 put a Bible into her hands, after marking such passa- 
 ges therein as were applicable to her deplorable case; 
 and calculated to satisfy her that her sins might yet be 
 forgiven her. He now left her ; repeated his visits 
 daily ; performed devout exercises with her, and we, 
 in truth, found her a sincere penitent ; which was a 
 great consolation to us. 
 
 Previous to our arrival she had told her reverend 
 friend, that she felt herself so much changed from 
 
103 
 
 what she had been, that she believed she could die in 
 peace, provided my forgiveness and that of her family 
 was obtained ; but how could she venture to solicit it, 
 particularly from myself; for whose blood she at one 
 time was monster enough to thirst ! A pardon ! If we 
 sinners withhold a pardon from the broken and contrite 
 spirit who acknowledges its faults, and implores for- 
 giveness, how can we look for mercy at the hands 
 of our heavenly father? We not only freely granted 
 her wish, which was communicated to us by Mrs. 
 Harmony; but offered up our prayers with hers in be- 
 half of a once lost sheep, who we now flattered our- 
 selves had found its way back into the fold. From 
 that interesting moment, she said, the king of terrors 
 would be the most welcome of all visiters to her. 
 Her fear of death had entirely vanished away; and 
 the most faultless of all human beings could not have 
 met it with more joy and fortitude than she did four 
 days afterwards. The day before her death, consider- 
 ing her peace as thoroughly made, Henry and myself 
 had a long conversation with her, in the course of 
 which she candidly confessed that she never had loved 
 me, but had married me, because I was rich, and be- 
 cause she wanted a husband ! That there was no con- 
 geniality in our dispositions ; did me the honour to 
 say, that I was much too good for her. And that 
 the greatest fault she had ever found with me was, 
 that I never flattered her ! ! 1 That to be flattered was 
 the ruling and darling passion of her life ; that Black- 
 heart had administered the " delicious essence" most 
 bountifully ; had succeeded in rendering me not only 
 ridiculous but contemptible in her eyes ; and her ruin 
 was the necessary consequence. Ah — beware of flat- 
 tery I my fair countrywomen. In the seducer's hands 
 it is a most potent, and too often, irresistible weapon ; 
 and has paved the way for the utter destruction of 
 many, who had once been the pride and ornament of 
 your bewitching sex. It works slowly but surely, be- 
 cause you are unsuspicious of its great influence over 
 your hearts, until it has taken such deep root there, 
 that your best efforts will ofttimes be unavailing to 
 eradicate it ; and the spoiler's evil purpose is half ac- 
 complished 
 
104 
 
 The last words which Maria had ability to utter 
 were, " The Lord in his infinite goodness have mercy 
 upon me, as I have truly repented me of my manifold 
 sins." 
 
 Yet a few moments more, and her lamp of (mortal) 
 
 life was entirely extinguished. 
 
 * * # * * #**# 
 
 As we were abundantly convinced of the unfeigned, 
 though late, reformation of Maria, we determined to 
 deposit her remains in the vault of her forefathers ; 
 and accordingly had them enveloped in a leaden coffin, 
 
 and shipped on board a vessel bound to . For 
 
 ourselves we returned by land, much edified by the 
 heart-rending scene we had been the melancholy wit- 
 nesses of. * * * * *• 
 
 On our return home, singular to relate, almost the 
 first intelligence which reached our ears was an ac- 
 count of the death of Blaekheart, who expired (re- 
 markable coincidence !) on the same day with Maria. 
 It appears that he was no sooner recovered than 
 the devil resumed his empire over him, and he 
 continued to perpetrate atrocity after atrocity until 
 he met with his earthly deserts. He had been an 
 unsuccessful wooer to the beautiful and chaste wife 
 of a respectable, and Herculean young farmer, for a 
 considerable time ; who very imprudently concealed 
 the circumstance from her proper protector ; and one 
 day found her alone in her chamber. He had long 
 been in waiting for such a glorious opportunity to car- 
 ry his horrid design into practice (having already 
 satisfied himself that nothing was to be accomplished 
 by fair means), and was about to treat her, as Tarquin 
 treated Lucretia, hi days of old ; when her husband 
 providentially returned, and, without ceremony, in- 
 flicted the same punishment upon him, which was un- 
 derwent (but successfully) by the Abelard of Eloisa. 
 Hodge however, unfortunately for Blaekheart, was no 
 surgeon, consequently the operation was performed in 
 a bungling manner ; and his chance for recovery a 
 very slim one ; for, notwithstanding the most able sur- 
 gical aid was afforded him, he died, in the most excru- 
 ciating agonies, of tetanus, a few days afterwards. 
 " De mortuis nil nisi bonum" ought to be inscribed 
 upon his tomb-stone, should his father think proper 
 to throw one away upon him. 
 
105 
 
 I cannot let slip the opportunity which is afforded 
 me, of giving to you, my dearly beloved and much re- 
 spected married countrywomen, a little good and 
 wholesome advice : And that is — Never to act as 
 Hodge's wife did, when an unprincipled libertine dares 
 assail your chaste ears with improper proposals. You 
 may let him off the first time— -(I say may — Mark 
 that !) upon his giving a solemn promise never to re- 
 peat the insult. — But — beware of the second. Com- 
 municate it immediately to your husband. The gallant 
 will construe an opposite conduct into a tacit approval 
 of his suit ; continue his persecution ; and you will 
 have to do it at last ; or " fall a martyr to a villain's 
 wiles." And do you in particular beware of flattery. 
 If your husband is fool enough to besprinkle you with 
 it, it is all well and good. He has a right to do with 
 you, and to you, in kindness, whatever he pleases : but 
 a married woman compromits her claim to prudence, 
 I had almost said, decorum, when she listens to, and ap- 
 probates it from another man. 
 
106 
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 tC This is a creature, 
 
 Would she begin a sect, might quench the zeal 
 Of all professors else ; make proselytes 
 Of who she but bid follow." 
 
 I WAS now for the second time a widower, and as 
 uxoriously inclined as ever,notwithstanding it had been 
 my ill fortune to draw worse than a blank, at my second 
 venture in the matrimonial lottery ! In fact, the mis- 
 chievous little deity had been taking very unwarrant- 
 able liberties with me, some months previous to the 
 demise of Maria. The present object of my adoration 
 was a widow. (I should always prefer a maid. Yankee. 
 Every man to his humour. Author.) A widow about 
 eighteen, (Yankee. A good age that, however.) who 
 had had one Child and lost it, as well as her husband, 
 twelve months previous. (Yankee. I should never desire 
 or expect my widow to remain a widow for my sake for 
 a longer period than that. Author. And it is long 
 enough of all conscience : even Auld Robin Gray re- 
 quired no more.) I was charmed with her at sight, 
 as a merchant would say ; but it was her character 
 which bound me to her in chains stronger than ada- 
 mantine ones; (Yankee. I had thought that your 
 heart was buried in the grave with your matchless 
 Louisa. Author. True. But you graduated at Yale, 
 didn't you ? Yankee. I have my degree, fortunately, 
 in my pocket : would you choose to inspect it ? Au- 
 thor. By no means. But if you did not graduate ex 
 sfieciali gratia, you must be sufficiently conversant 
 with the classics to know that it is possible for a man 
 to have two hearts (or souls, either you please). 
 Yankee. I take your meaning, and stand corrected.) 
 for my principles would not suffer me to exchange a 
 word with her, whilst I had a wife alive. I had there- 
 fore shunned her, as I would plague, pestilence, and 
 
107 
 
 famine, as I abominated the idea of a divorce, and 
 was so deeply smitten that I well knew if I once be- 
 came well acquainted with her, I should address her, 
 right or wrong, wife or no wife. She was the coun- 
 terpart of Louisa the regretted, if what every body 
 said of her was to be believed : indeed she appeared 
 to have no enemy. Was very handsome, and very 
 accomplished. This much I knew from actual know- 
 ledge : in short, what with hearsay and my own deci- 
 sion, bottomed on her physiognomy, she was a woman 
 who ought to satisfy the most fastidious wife-seeker. 
 
 I was now at liberty to follow the bent of my inclina- 
 tions, being too honest to put on mourning for a wo- 
 man, whose loss I considered as one of the greatest 
 blessings which could have been conferred upon me 
 by heaven. To become acquainted with, and address 
 the incomparable widow, was now the order of the day 
 with me : but, independent of its being extremely 
 doubtful whether or no I should find favour in her eyes ; 
 I had, if possible, a yet greater difficulty to surmount, 
 for her father was one of the haughtiest men breathing; 
 a very patrician — who valued himself upon having 
 traced his family for a thousand years back, and ascer- 
 tained to a demonstration that there never had been a 
 mechanic connected with it. Obadiah was the son of 
 a carpenter ! ! ! Ergo, it was not within the pale of 
 probabilities that his consent to our union would be 
 obtained, even though the lady should be disposed to 
 prove kind. Whilst I was endeavouring to devise 
 ways and means to overcome this obstacle, fortune 
 introduced me to the fair source of my disquiet. I 
 was returning home, about nine of the clock one beau- 
 tiful moon-light night on foot, and overtook a well 
 dressed female ; without either a beau, or servant in 
 attendance. My gallantry was immediately elicited, 
 and I volunteered my services to see her home ; not- 
 withstanding I entertained doubts of her quality. She 
 sweetly thanked me, and unhesitatingly placed herself 
 under my protection ; observing that the master and 
 man servant were both absent from the house sh-3 had 
 been visiting at; however, as the distance to her father's 
 was trifling, she had been courageous enough to ven- 
 ture upon it alone. She had scarcely opened her 
 
108 
 
 mouth ere I was all of a tremor : Indeed she told me 
 afterwards that my arm shook so violently she was ap- 
 prehensive I was about to get an ague. (It was a ve- 
 ry cold night — friend Yankee.) I was fortunate enough 
 to recover myself sufficiently in a moment or two to 
 express my extreme satisfaction at the agreeable ren- 
 contre, called her by name, and added that I had long 
 since wished for the honour of her acquaintance. She 
 laughed and rejoined — I did not expect to have a com- 
 pliment paid me by Dr. Bloomfield, I assure you. 
 We were now within a few paces of that door which 
 was to separate us — perhaps for ever ! My agitation 
 returned upon me with increased force, but she res- 
 tored me to myself by a pressing invitation to walk in. 
 Her father's character was as completely absent from 
 my thoughts, at this period, as though he had never 
 had one ; and I joyfully accompanied her into his man- 
 sion. The family were in the drawing room up stairs, 
 whither we repaired, and I had the superlative felicity 
 of being introduced to the greatest of all great men, 
 in his own conceit ; and — her excellent mother. The 
 patrician received me with such a formal forced po- 
 liteness as abashed and mortified me, more than I had 
 ever been abashed and mortified before; and I should 
 have instantly taken my leave, had not his wife made 
 ample amends for the deficient urbanity of her worse 
 half, by thanking me, in the most consoling manner, 
 for the care I had taken of her daughter ; and insist- 
 ing on my taking a seat near the fire, in such a way 
 as evinced a determination not to be withstood. I 
 spent a most delightful half hour with the ladies — the 
 self-created grandee not deigning to open his lips the 
 Avhile — then arose, and took my leave, as gracefully as 
 I could. The old lady looked at parting as though she 
 would have said, " you should be invited to repeat your 
 visit, if it rested with me." 
 
 I had barely got without the drawing-room door, 
 when the father inquired of his daughter, in a very 
 harsh tone of voice, " where she had picked up with 
 that son of a carpenter ?" which question must have 
 been overheard by the elegantly dressed servant who 
 was lighting me out. I was greatly hurt thereat, and 
 after he had done his duty, bidding me good night 
 
109 
 
 very respectfully, and was about to close the door ; I 
 slipped some dollars into his hand, with these words, 
 " the son of a carpenter gives you this." The man 
 was very grateful, became my staunch friend, and is 
 now my confidential body servant. I walked slowly 
 home, ruminating upon the events of the evening, and 
 retired to bed in a most disconsolate condition. My 
 interview with the really fascinating Sophia — musical 
 name ! had firmly rivetted my chains, but it was now 
 quite certain that her father would hoot at the idea of 
 my marrying into his family ; and throw every stumb- 
 ling block in his power in the way of its taking place : 
 of the ladies I did not utterly despair. Sophia was a 
 widow, it was true, but she had the reputation of be- 
 ing a most dutiful daughter, and of having made a 
 most excellent wife. 
 
 To live happily without her was impossible — the 
 thought of it agonizing ! ! ! 
 
 " Nil DesfierandumJ* 
 said my guardian angel. " Court her, Obadiah, and 
 if you are so fortunate as to obtain her consent ', a fig 
 for the frowns of the cross-grained patrician. I fore- 
 see that the mother will be of your party. You are 
 well acquainted with Mrs. Modish, with whom So- 
 phia is intimate ; and can visit, and see her there, when- 
 ever you think proper." I shall, without fail, pay my 
 respects to her to-morrow evening. 
 
 Having in some measure put off the blues, I was 
 favoured with a delicious night's rest; for I dreamt 
 several times, and always of — Sophia. I arose, cheer- 
 ed with the hope of seeing her in reality, in the eve- 
 ning ; attended to my business, and dined with my pa- 
 rents, together with my son (now in his fourth year), 
 whose endearing prattle would occasionally draw off 
 my thoughts from the dear mortal, before whose 
 shrine 1 shortly purposed to bow. I returned home 
 early, resolved to be more attentive to my dress than 
 usual, although I had always, even when a methodist 
 circuit-rider, being denominated, a neat man : but my 
 intention of calling on Mrs. Modish this evening, was 
 effectually thwarted, by a card of invitation from her, 
 to a private ball, to be given on the next. Was the 
 hand of Sophia in this thing ? My vanity said— yes. My 
 
 VOL.1. L 
 
110 
 
 better judgment — no, no, no ! I shall certainly see her 
 there, thought 1, and be rendered happier by the sight, 
 than ever Bonaparte or Julius Caesar were, by re- 
 flecting ujion their best fought battles, notwithstand- 
 ing they warred for ambition, glory, and immortality. 
 (Yankee. And mayhap for lucre. Author. I am no 
 politician — ergo, I cannot undertake to resolve you : 
 however, this much I will say, that your countrymen 
 always choose to be paid for their labour, and well paid 
 too, if the thing be attainable ; always bear it in mind, 
 however, that I mean to cast no imputation upon their 
 — or your — patriotism. During our revolutionary 
 war, Boston was the cradle of liberty. Yankee. I 
 would not give a cent for a fellow who had not a due 
 regard for the main chance. Author. I was aware of 
 that, my dear vender of notions, and admire economy 
 as much as you can possibly do: but, meanness, 
 avaunt !) I had read over my ticket for the ball per- 
 haps twenty times, so delighted was I with the recep- 
 tion of it ; when I suddenly recollected that Richard 
 the third was to be performed in the evening. 
 The part of Richard by Mr. COOPER. 
 
 Perchance Sophia may visit the theatre ; I under- 
 stand she is a dear lover of the drama. I was dressed 
 and at its door in a twinkling. If she is not within I 
 shall deeply deplore it, but will have the satisfaction of 
 again seeing the third Richard in the world. (Can- 
 dour requires me to acknowledge that Cooper is infe- 
 rior to Cooke and Kemble in that character.) I am 
 now in the house ; there is a crowded audience, and 
 the play has not yet commenced. I walk from box to 
 box, scarcely noticing my other acquaintance, but 
 looking with all my eyes for — you know who. And at 
 last I recognized her sitting with some ladies, who 
 were my intimate friends, and her father was not in the 
 box. I would have given thousands to be assured he 
 was not in the house. I hastened to them, my heart 
 bounding with joy ; they were so kind as to incom- 
 mode themselves to give me a seat betwixt two of them ; 
 and one of these two was — Sophia. 
 
 Such of my readers as have really and truly loved, 
 will felicitate me on my enviable situation ; whilst 
 those who have been the votaries of wealth* and bow- 
 
Ill 
 
 ed wholly to its shrine; considering the lady as an 
 expensive (and even troublesome) appendage, notwith- 
 standing her purse affords the means of defraying 
 every expenditure ; may sneer and laugh, and laugh 
 and sneer again. God help all those who marry for 
 money alone (a beautiful and amiable poor girl of six- 
 teen, for instance, to a wealthy old dotard of sixty 1 ! !) 
 albeit — to make use of a homely old-fashioned phrase, 
 " the pot cannot boil without a little of it." A man 
 will do much better, and live much happier, to earn an 
 honest livelihood by shoe-blacking ; and a woman by 
 going out to a service ; than by uniting themselves 
 to beings whom they despise, or abhor, for the sake of 
 a little pahry pelf. The couple that marries for love 
 will — give and take — bear and forbear — and endeavour 
 to make a pleasant intermixture of the good and bad 
 things with which our world abounds : — but for those 
 who marry from interested motives — I mean pecunia- 
 ry ones, there is nothing to be certainly calculated 
 upon, save eternal jarrings, and sparrings, and bicker- 
 ings. Psha ! I am sick of the odious subject. I had 
 scarcely time to greet my fair companions, ere the 
 performance began. I well knew they came there to 
 witness and be entertained by it, and not to be seen ; 
 and strove to conduct myself accordingly. In spite of 
 me, however, my eyes would be playing truant, and 
 devoted themselves to Sophia, when they should have 
 been monopolized by the performance of the elegant 
 Cooper. She caught them thrice in the very fact, and 
 scowled not at me. Indeed, methought she looked 
 upon me, " more in pleasure than in anger." Happy 
 augury ! thinks I to myself — thinks I, it will do. She 
 has discovered my love for her — and — I may yet call 
 her mine ! 
 
 In the course of our chat between the acts, she en- 
 quired, if I had received a card for Mrs. Modish's so- 
 ciable ball? And whether I proposed attending? I re- 
 plied to both questions eagerly in the affirmative. I 
 was sure you would be invited, continued she, because 
 I called upon her this morning, and chanced to men- 
 tion my obligation to you of the last evening. — I in- 
 terrupted her by saying with warmth — " the honour, 
 —the obligation — the every thing — was mine." " So, 
 
112 
 
 so ; another compliment from the grave Dr. Bloom- 
 field. I must boast of this. I find I have been mis- 
 taken, as to your, character for gallantry : I was told 
 that you never complimented any woman." — You are 
 the second who ever deserved from me, what the 
 world may denominate a compliment — but what I have 
 uttered as truth. — A continuation of the delicious 
 mental repast, to those who were in a fit state to en- 
 joy it, put a stop to any reply on her part. I spent a 
 very pleasant four hours in the theatre, and the per- 
 formances over, I was impudent enough to solicit a 
 seat in Sophia's carriage, which was frankly granted 
 me ; and I once more saw her into the dwelling of her 
 father, taking care to engage her, by the way, as my 
 partner for the ball, as often as Mrs. Modish's regula- 
 tions would permit. We met there at the time ap- 
 pointed, and, believe me, I had not a few competitors 
 for the honour of her hand — some of whom were rivals 
 of a description to be dreaded, even by the vainest of 
 the most vain. 
 
 The conquest Sophia had made must have been no- 
 ticed by the whole company, and a very brilliant as- 
 semblage it was ; for sure I am, I was so much be- 
 side myself — so much intoxicated with admiration of 
 her mental and personal charms, that I could take no 
 pains to conceal it. 
 
 Again we separated ; but I contrived, by the kind as- 
 sistance of Mrs. Modish and some other female friends, 
 to see her every evening when the weather would ad- 
 mit of it. Such an intercourse could not exist long 
 without an eclaircissement : it took place: Sophia 
 ingenuously declared to me that I was far from being 
 disagreeable to her : — that if she ever did marry again, 
 her faith would be plighted to your humble servant, 
 and none other : but — ah that — but — I ever despised 
 the word, and yet these memoirs could not have pro- 
 gressed, through my hands, without a free use of it — 
 but — she could never marry me so long as her father 
 lived, because she would not, without his approbation ; 
 and she well knew that it was unattainable. In vain 
 did I state to her, that I conscientiously thought the 
 circumstance of her being a widow rendered her, to all 
 intents and purposes, her own mistress — and that as 
 
113 
 
 she had married her first husband to please herself 
 and parents, she had already discharged the duty 
 which she, in that respect, owed to them as their 
 daughter, and was not amenable in the second instance. 
 She was steady to, and immoveable from her purposes, 
 and although her very unusual decision militated 
 against my earthly peace and happiness, I could not, 
 for the soul of me, avoid loving her the better for it, 
 inasmuch as a dutiful and good daughter must make 
 a good wife. Provided always nevertheless that she is 
 not coupled to a brute of a husband. 
 
 Sophia had told me that her mother was not only 
 pleased, but charmed with our projected match. But 
 (another but !) the inexorable patrician, his heart was 
 to be softened down to a yielding consistency. Money 
 works wonders sometimes ; to me, in this case, it was 
 but as dross. I resolved to try its powers ; old men 
 being too frequently avaricious. The aid of colonel 
 M'Donald was again necessary. I draw upon him for 
 it, he is with me ! he is indisputably a gentleman, 
 according to my would-be father-in-law's ideas of gen- 
 tility, for he is younger brother to a Scotch earl. I 
 entreat him to act for me. He consents ; but he, even 
 he, gives me no manner of encouragement : indeed, 
 tells me, that my case is a hopeless one, and he is in 
 habits of the greatest intimacy with the queer mortal, 
 who has the control of my sublunary destiny at this 
 crisis of crisises ! ! ! 
 
 " That carpenter business is indigestible in that quar- 
 ter, Obadiah. Mr. had rather give his daugh- 
 ter to a well-born rake, rascal, infidel, gamester, and 
 poltroon, than to the most amiable plebeian in existence. 
 It is in a sensible and well-read man, who has seen a great 
 deal of the world (and such an one Mr. un- 
 questionably is), a most ridiculous and unwarrantable 
 prejudice or weakness, and I shall endeavour to reason 
 him into a reasonable frame of mind ; but I charge you, 
 be prepared for the worst." 
 
 I had all along been my own steward, superintending 
 my pecuniary concerns with the exactness of a finan- 
 cier, and they had thriven exceedingly under my man- 
 agement : So much so indeed, that it was impossible for 
 me to fairly expend more than one fifth part of my in- 
 l2 
 
114 
 
 come. The large balance I had invariably realized at 
 the expiration of every year ; and the city property 
 which my father had given me, being advantageously 
 situated ; had advanced fifty per. cent, in value. I was 
 therefore by this time one of the wealthiest men in 
 
 , and had hoped to tempt the father of Sophia, 
 
 by proffering a considerable settlement. Colonel M' Do- 
 nald was commissioned accordingly, but here again 
 he threw cold water upon my hopes. " Your flame's 
 father is not to be bought, young man. Abstracted 
 from his boundless family pride, there are few more 
 amiable characters. And as to money, he is one of 
 those thoughtless beings who set no manner of 
 value upon it, has already straitened himself in his 
 circumstances by his charities, and a liberality, which 
 know no bounds, and by paying for the extravagancies 
 of his only son, who is one of the most dissipated chaps 
 in the world ; and a professed gambler into the bar- 
 gain. Many a cool thousand has the old gentle- 
 man had to post up for the hopeful cheeld's losses at 
 loo, and faro. However we shall know precisely upon 
 what ground we stand, in the course of an hour or 
 two ; as he is always at home about this time a day. If 
 the negociation fails, Oby, it will be by no fault of mine: 
 I shall put my best leg foremost, be assured." — And 
 away went this pattern for men of every age. 
 He is gone ! ! ! 
 
 I can neither sit, or walk, read, or write. ***** 
 
 He has returned ! 
 
 Ill-omened face &t is all over. ****** 
 
 The father (an affectionate one, in every other re- 
 spect) has said, that he had rather see his daughter — 
 his unoffending and dutiful daughter, with whom his 
 assent was, a " sine qua non" — whose heart too he 
 knew to be deeply interested in the affair — he had 
 rather see her a corpse than wedded to the son of a 
 carpenter ! ! ! ***** 
 
 Was that " carpenter's son" an immoral man ! No. 
 Was there any objection to his character or standing 
 in society? None, none, none ! but he was the son of a 
 carpenter ! this was the head and front of his offending, 
 no more ! alack, and alas a day, the son of a carpen- 
 ter ! ! ! 
 
115 
 
 He boasted to me of the gentility of his genealogical 
 tree, which was just one thousand years old, continued 
 M'Donald. I inquired, if he had not ancestors previ- 
 ous to that period ? Unquestionably, rejoined he. Are 
 
 YOU QUITE SURE, MY FRIEND, THAT SOME OF THEM 
 
 were not hanged ? He became almost offended, 
 and, for your sake, I backed out. I had just as well 
 have not done so, for the worst part of my tale is yet to 
 be told. What can be worse than what you have al- 
 ready communicated ? groaned I. Recollect that you 
 are a man, Dr. Bloomfield, and bear your mishap like a 
 
 man, or I shall blush for you. Mr. in my 
 
 presence, solemnly charged your Sophia(for I prophecy 
 she will yet be yours, if you have but patience) never 
 to speak to you more. Is it possible that the barbarian 
 carried his cruelty so very far? you surely doubt me 
 not, Obadiah: but reason had now abandoned its wonted 
 seat, and passion held him in complete controul. I re- 
 peat it, Oby, you must be fiatient, you are both young 
 enough to wait events, and who knows what a few 
 months may bring forth ? If any man, even the great 
 Jefferson, had predicted, whilst Bonaparte was in full 
 march, with his prodigious forces, for the invasion of 
 Russia; when kings bowed down before him, and trem- 
 bled at his frown, that within eighteen months, and 
 he would be powerless ; would he not have been deem- 
 ed a fit candidate for a mad-house ? cheer up, man ; 
 the game is far from being lost yet. It was her confes- 
 sion of love for you (he had never suspected the thing 
 before) that set him beside himself. Now for a crumb 
 of consolation, my lad ; you have a warm friend in the 
 mother, a very warm one indeed ; they are a most af- 
 fectionate couple, and when that is the case, a woman 
 possesses a well nigh unbounded influence over her 
 husband. There is a proper time to exercise this, 
 and rely upon it, it will be exercised to the utmost ; 
 whenever there is any ; the most distant, prospect, of 
 your cause being benefited by it. Positively you 
 must not be so chicken-hearted. The daughter and 
 mother are already gained ; and, depend upon it, mater- 
 nal good management will do the rest. 
 
116 
 
 CHAPTER XXVI. 
 Sophia writes to me!! 
 
 HERE again my religion supported me, and was 
 the only source from whence I extracted a sufficiency of 
 fortitude to enable me to bear, with becoming dignity, 
 this greatest of all earthly disappointments. I endea- 
 voured to believe that " whatever is, is right ;" and 
 within a month had regained, to outward appearance 
 at least, my usual serenity of mind. 
 
 A letter from Sophia was now handed me, I broke 
 the seal of it, with fear and trembling ; read it, all ye 
 who would be dutiful daughters and matchless wives : 
 read it, I say, and act as Sophia has acted, should you, 
 unhappily, be ever so delicately situated. 
 
 " Dear sir, 
 
 Your inestimable friend, colonel M'Donald, 
 lias, of course, apprised you of the result of his confer- 
 ence with my father, and of the very unkind restriction 
 which he has laid upon me, but he is my parent, and 
 imperious duty requires that I submit to what cannot, 
 for the present, be remedied, with as little seeming re- 
 luctance as possible. But you will wrong me, cruelly 
 wrong me, if you for a moment imagine that the sen- 
 timents I have entertained for you, have undergone any 
 change. Ah, no, no, no ! Appreciate the poor Sophia's 
 feelings by your own, and you will judge of her 
 aright ! ! ! 
 
 You should have heard from me immediately, but I 
 had and still have, great doubts of the propriety of the 
 measure, and if it be a deviation from the straight 
 path of rectitude, I pledge myself to you that I will 
 never be justly chargeable with a repetition of it. I 
 pledge myself to you, because, next to my God. — But 
 I must restrain myself. ***** 
 
 It is true I was not forbid to writs to you, but I am 
 
117 
 
 no lawyer, and I hope too honest even to avail myself 
 of the quibbles of one — I know it to be the fixed resolve 
 of my — father to break off all correspondence betwixt 
 us, and it is sufficient for me that / do know it, to 
 act accordingly, until it shall please heaven to smile 
 propitious on our loves. I should forfeit all claim to 
 the character of a dutiful daughter, if I conducted 
 otherwise ; and — if you are as good a man, as I firmly 
 believe you to be ; you will not love me the less for 
 it 
 
 Think not hardly of me, dear (here the word 
 u Bloomfield" was erased, but still discoverable,) sir, 
 if you could read my heart, you would pity me, more 
 than you commiserate yourself, for, it is the settled 
 abode of anguish unutterable, I had almost been sinful 
 enough to say, despair ! 
 
 My duty to the betrothed of my soul shall also be 
 faithfully performed. Surely there can be nothing 
 criminal in that ? no orison shall ever escape my lips in 
 which your name, and that of your interesting son's, 
 will not be mentioned conjointly with my own, solicit- 
 ing- the same measure of good to be meted out to each 
 of us. 
 
 This is the last time, it almost annihilates me to 
 pen it ; this is the last time chat I can commune with 
 you until the obdurate heart of my sire is melted : 
 but assuredly, there will be no impropriety in our 
 looking at each other when we chance to meet, and ex- 
 changing thoughts, through the medium of these or- 
 gans which are never deceptious ; and which have too 
 frequently betrayed the hidden secrets of a female 
 heart ! and is this, this all the consolation which shall 
 be extended to two such true lovers as we are ? hope, 
 that never-failing refuge of the miserable, now, even 
 now, whispers to me, in the most soothing accents 
 fancy can imagine, that it will be but for a season, for 
 a short season, and all will then be well. My mother 
 too buoys me up with similar expectations ; she desires 
 her love to you, her love, and bids me say, if you are 
 impatient, you will disconcert all her plans, for our 
 mutual benefit. She says, she must work by sap : her 
 father was a celebrated engineer, you know. 
 
 Endeavour to look cheerful when we meet. I shall 
 
118 
 
 do so too. If you despond, what may not be expected 
 of a poor weak woman ? Be careful of your precious 
 health, kiss your dear little Obadiah for me, and be 
 true. Dare I doubt your constancy ? Not so, I would 
 much sooner be suspicious of my own. Adieu, dear- 
 est of friends, adieu. Let us put our whole trust in 
 the great Author of our being, and we may yet be 
 happy. 
 
 Bless you ! Bless you ! 
 
 Dr. Bloomfield. 
 
 Sophia -. 
 
 P S. You will offend me, seriously offend me, if 
 you reply to this, in any shape. We are doomed to suf- 
 fer in silence, and the mandate must be obeyed." 
 
 Could I offend, or even disoblige, the idol of my 
 soul ? impossible ! an expressed wish of hers was ever a 
 law for me. I murmured at, but submitted to, the very 
 unexpected requisition. 
 
119 
 
 CHAPTER XXVII. 
 
 Containing the commencement of an Episode, intro- 
 duced for the benefit of all very young imn, who 
 have suddenly come into the possession of a handsome 
 fortune. 
 
 ONE of the most beloved and inestimable friends, 
 which the desolating hand of time has left me, was 
 deprived of his father, when he had just attained to 
 the ticklish age of twenty and one ; who bequeathed 
 him twenty thousand dollars, in cash. He had been 
 regularly bred to merchandise, was now out of his 
 time, and it was the earnest wish of his parent that he 
 should embark in that business, on his own account. 
 This his wish was communicated by him to his son, 
 whilst on his death-bed, but he exacted no promise 
 from him on the subject ; very correctly judging, 
 that if he left him otherwise than a free agent, it would 
 greatly detract from the value of his legacy. It 
 seems, however, that his seven years of slavery (as 
 the young gentleman termed it) had excited in his 
 breast a disgust to trade, notwithstanding he was a 
 great proficient in the business ; and such a favourite 
 with his masters, that they had frequently intimated 
 to him their willingness to admit him as a partner in 
 their house : provided his father would add, to the ge- 
 neral stock, the identical sum which he was now pos- 
 sessed of. Richard well knew that his fortunes 
 would be more than half built up, by his coming into 
 the measure ; for those who held out the most liberal 
 lure to him were quakers — men of sterling honoHtf 
 and integrity, who were doing a very extensive, lu- 
 crative, and safe wholesale and retail business — mer- 
 chants who avoided shipping (which has ruined ten, 
 where it has made the fortune of one) as they would 
 a filthy garment — and who credited none whose notes 
 were not discountable at bank, and took especial care 
 
120 
 
 to have them discounted, with all despatch ; for fear 
 of accidents ! 
 
 But Richard was free — and free he would remain. 
 
 No more of " Profit and Loss" for him, and it had 
 well nigh turned out so ; as will be seen in the sequel. 
 One would have supposed, that he had been calcula- 
 ting dollars, and cents, and mil is, long enough to know 
 the value of them. But no such thing — he was -yet 
 to be taught, that money was one of the absolute ne- 
 cessaries of life. 
 
 Well — the remains of his excellent friend were re- 
 spectably returned to their mother earth — dust to dust ! 
 ashes to ashes ! And Richard — wept ! ! ! But when 
 he reflected that his father was not a very old man, 
 and that, had he not been carried off by a violent dis- 
 ease (as his family was a long lived one), he might 
 have lasted a score of years more — he thought of his 
 twenty thousand dollars — and — Richard was — com- 
 forted. — Yea — verily — was he. 
 
 Richard was not kept long out of" his ready," for the 
 executor was an honest man, and his father had left 
 the world (as every man of family, in particular, ought 
 to leave it ; who was not born with a wooden ladle in 
 his mouth) with every debt cancelled, save his fune- 
 ral expenses, and doctor's bills ; and time was not al- 
 lotted him to discharge them, you know. (Yankey. I 
 have heard of children being born with teeth, but al- 
 ways considered it as fabulous ; but I never did hear 
 of a child's being born with a " wooden ladle" in his 
 mouth, in all my born days. What the deuce mean 
 you by the phrase ? A. You shall have an explana- 
 tory chapter on the subject, in good season. Y. A 
 chapter on a wooden ladle ! A I have promised. 
 Y. I would as soon expect from you a chapter on 
 " shoe brushes." A. You shall have it also — well 
 tl&ought of. A celebrated shoe black carries on his 
 trade directly opposide to me. Recollect that Swift's 
 Stella is said to have said, that the dean could write 
 elegantly on a " broom stick" — (and, use it dexterous- 
 ly afterwards.) Y. Yes — but I also recollect, that dean 
 Swift, and yourself, are very distinct persons. A. 
 " Be quiet — I know it." Have you, in the course of 
 our literary acquaintance, discovered any thing like 
 
121 
 
 vanity about me ? Y. Why / guess as how — i" hare 
 not. On the contrary- — I have considered you — for 
 an author — mark me — as perfectly sensible of your 
 own defects — and manifold they are — as the critics 
 will one day convince you. A. The critics — hired 
 
 ones I mean — may kiss my great toe ! I value 
 
 them not.) Richard had now fobbed his tl twenty 
 thousand" in good looking bills of the " old national 
 bank," (which was then, u in the full tide of success- 
 ful experiment." Present a bill, emanating from its 
 source— only present it — and it would be cashed at 
 sight in good sound sfiecie. Y. And the new national 
 bank (one of the greatest blessings which congress 
 ever conferred upon a distressed mercantile commu- 
 nity ; and one of the best plans which could have been 
 resorted to, to secure to us, the sinews of war), the 
 new bank (and its branches), will shortly do the same y 
 
 so sure as the deservedly popular •* B— — J ," is 
 
 its president. A. I was deeply interested in the old 
 bank, and possibly— hold a few shares in the new. 
 Ergo — as a friend to my country — to her best inte- 
 rests — and — to — myself — I respond you— Amen.) 
 But what was he to do with them ; he was predeter- 
 mined to work no more : and although twenty thousand 
 dollars is a good round sum to look upon — it must be 
 well invested ; in order to enable its possessor to live 
 comfortably upon the interest of it. In this instance 
 — Richard's knowledge of interest, and compound in- 
 terest ; marine insurance, and bottomry ; was as dross 
 to him. He had travelled those grounds too often 
 over, and he would sooner brave a Lapland climate, 
 than encounter them again. 'Tis true he had seen 
 and counted over, hundreds of thousands of dollars ; 
 but they were not his own. He had now come honest- 
 ly into the possession of twenty thousand — each and 
 every one of which, as a faithful servant, was bound to 
 call him master — provided the gift of speech had not 
 been denied to inanimate substances, as well as to 
 beasts. And he deemed the fund an inexhaustible 
 one ! 
 
 Richard had scarcely as yet tasted of, what are termed 
 the pleasures of life, by the vicious and weak of eve- 
 ry community. He had been too well brought up for 
 M 
 
122 
 
 that ; but he had now given his cage the go^by ; and 
 was determined to show his young associates, that he 
 would be as liberal and frolicsome — that is, as waste- 
 ful and dissipated — as the very best (worst) of them. 
 Meantime his money burnt in his pocket. He was 
 miserable until he entered upon his mad career. But 
 — alas — poor fellow ! he was not miserable long, ac- 
 cording to his then ideas of misery. An elegant house 
 was speedily taken, in the most fashionable part of the 
 city, and splendidly furnished — a full complement of 
 servants hired, and corresponding liveries clapped up- 
 on their backs — his cellars crowded with the choicest 
 liquors, and his friends invited to partake of a sump- 
 tuous banquet. Nor had he forgotten to add a flashy 
 curricle, and two pair of horses, to his enviable estab- 
 lishment. " Fools make feasts, and wise men eat 
 them." It need hardly be added therefore, that no 
 one was rude enough to reply to his invitation — " nay." 
 —The company assembled, and a merry set were they. 
 Could it be otherwise whilst they were feasting at ano- 
 ther's cost ? The Champaigne flew about — cut glass 
 decanters, tumblers, and wines, were demolished — 
 and Bedlam let loose; to the great annoyance of the 
 adjoining peaceable inhabitats ; who verily believed 
 they had gotten — Lord Rochester — number two — for 
 a neighbour. Fortunately however for their night's 
 repose, this state of " confusion worse than confound- 
 ed" did not last long. Champaigne is a very insidi- 
 ous wine, and has a wonderful knack at suddenly trip- 
 ping up the heels of those who quaff of it. Richard, 
 who had never before exceeded half a pint of wine at 
 a sitting, became non se ifise by eight o'clock ; and 
 was conveyed to his bed, in a state of insensibility, an 
 hour afterwards. Albeit, he was far from being the 
 only one who made a brute of himself. His guests, 
 who were regularly-bred wine bibbers, had no idea 
 of quitting the « drink of the Gods" because an acci- 
 dent had befallen their entertainer ; but continued — 
 to pour down libation after libation, to the only one 
 whom they ever in sincerity worshipped—until — 
 aye — until they were all unable — to — tell — their — own 
 — names. * * * * 
 
 Eleven of the clock the next morning found Rich- 
 ard awake— sober— -and upon the stool of repentance I 
 
123 
 
 Not that he had counted the cost of the entertainment, 
 or thought of the damage which had been sustained by 
 his moveables. Oh no 1 he was too choice a spirit 
 for that. He was upon the stool of repentance, be- 
 cause he had a most excruciating headache, great 
 nausea of the stomach. In brief, to make use of a 
 favourite bacchanalian phrase, he felt like the very- 
 devil ! ! ! 
 
 At this auspicious moment, for such a one it ought 
 at least to have been to Richard, in Richard's case ; 
 who should drop in upon him, but his very worthy and 
 approved (former) good masters, the quakers. They 
 had accidentally found their way into the dining- 
 room ; Richard was a bachelor, and very young housc- 
 keeeper ; his servants had already dived into his pro- 
 digal character ; and it was not yet cleaned out. — 
 What a scene did it exhibit to eyes which, next to im- 
 morality, deprecate ! they looked upon it with 
 
 astonishment and grief unfeigned ; when one of them, 
 stronger stomached than his brother, " with cautious 
 steps and slow," ventured into the vicinity of the tables; 
 and picked up a fragment of a superb decanter, which 
 
 was not enveloped in ~, viewed it in sullen silence 
 
 for a while ; then passed it backwards to his partner, 
 with, friend, what thinkest thou of that ? — Nothing 
 more than that the mistaken unhappy youth is driving 
 headlong to destruction. But we will save ; reclaim 
 him. Never; so long as one of his twenty thou- 
 sand dollars remain to him. — Thou and I must, at all 
 events, make the effort ; he was a good lad — Tru. (to 
 the servant) Hast thou told thy master, friend, that his 
 old masters are in waiting ? Servant (aside) What a 
 beautiful pair of drab-coated u tbee's and thou's," have 
 we not got here ! ha ! ha ! ha ! if they had only done 
 us the honour of a call about dark last night ; how 
 they would have been quizzed and be-devil'd ! (to che 
 quakers) I informed my master that you were in the 
 house, who returns his most respectful compliments, 
 and begs to be excused from seeing you to-day ; as he 
 is very much indisposed. — Indisposed, is he? we won- 
 der not at it ; servant as thou art, thou oughtest to be 
 indisposed, and blush too, when thou lookest upon 
 those trophies of last night's debauch ; unless, indeed, 
 
124 
 
 thou ceasedst to be a man, when thou hiredst thyself for 
 a servant. Return again, and say to thy hopeful mas- 
 ter, that Mr. Trueman and Mr. Steady must and will 
 see him ; thou surely didst not mention to him our 
 names, or Richard would not have been so rude as to 
 refuse to see us ; because, forsooth, he is indisposed. 
 Servant, (aside) He only said, that he would sooner 
 look on the devil than either of your ugly faces, (to 
 the Quakers) I shall deliver your message, (bowing 
 very low and suppressing a laugh.) Trueman. Verily, 
 friend Steady, I am afraid we have found our way into 
 one of the tabernacles of Belial ; .didst mark the in- 
 solence of that coxcombical lackey ? Steady. Yea. 
 And it did so excite my choler, that I had nearly for- 
 gotten I was one of the faithful, and kicked the mis- 
 creant. Trueman. Truly I wonder not at it ; for even 
 mine anger was enkindled, who am thy senior by a 
 half score of years. Servant, (returns) Please to walk 
 up, gentlemen, (eyeing their dress from head to foot, 
 and chuckling) and shews them the way into the bed- 
 chamber of his master ; who is reclined on a sofa of 
 exquisite workmanship ; and and has a beautiful young 
 maid servant rubbing his head. He gives to his old 
 masters a most flattering reception. The usual greet- 
 ings over, Trueman says to him, Thy servant hath 
 insulted us, Richard. 
 
 Richard. Which servant ? 
 
 Trueman. He stands before thee. 
 
 Richard. Is it possible ! I am grieved to hear it. 
 (to servant.) Begone, scoundrel, and never let me see 
 your face more. 
 
 Trueman, (aside to Steady.) I like this. 
 
 Steady, (to Trueman.) As a gentleman, he could 
 have done no less. 
 
 Servant, (falls on his knees before Richard.) Par- 
 don me, honoured master ; pardon me, kind, good gen- 
 tlemen, and I will never do the like again. It must 
 have been the devil which tempted me 
 
 Trueman. (interufiting him.) Yea, verily, Satan is 
 unjustly accused by thee. Thou hast not yet been 
 taught thy duty, and art still to learn, that it is not the 
 garb which makes the gentleman. But we wish not to 
 deprive thee of thy bread : forgive him this offence, 
 
125 
 
 friend Richard. If he repeat it, thou wilt owe it to thy- 
 self to discharge him. 
 
 Richard. Begone, sirrah ; you may retain your 
 place, in compliment to my old master; but rely upon 
 it, I shall not hastily forget your misconduct. Another 
 mis-step, and you seek for other service, {servant 
 boius and retires.} 
 
 Trueman. {after silently examining the premises.} 
 Well, Richard, I perceive thee hast not idled thy time. 
 Thy provident father hath not been six weeks dead, 
 and thou hast got thee into a noble mansion, for which 
 thou doubtless art to pay a noble rent ; hast put into 
 it the most costly furniture ; and in order that thou 
 mightest be perfectly comfortable, (archly) hast provi- 
 ded for thy head-rubber, a damsel young, and beaute- 
 ous to behold. I prythee now, canst tell how much 
 thy outfit cost thee ? hast calculated how much thy 
 yearly expences must amount to? 
 
 Richard, {deeply blushing} You may retire, Lu- 
 cinda. My head feels better, {she goes ouf.) 
 
 Steady. We came not to rebuke thee, friend Richard; 
 nor to be impertinently inquisitive. Our visit is the 
 fruit of friendship ; thou knowest that we loved thy 
 father ; and we hope art satisfied that we love thee. 
 Thou art a very young man ; young men are necessa- 
 rily inexperienced ; and few there are who are not 
 thoughtless. Friend Trueman would know how 
 much of thy twenty thousand is already expended, and 
 how long thou calculatest upon the balance lasting 
 thee ; but I would spare thy feelings. Thou wouldst 
 be frightened, indeed thou wouldst, if thou knew (for 
 sure I am thou canst not know) what a great hole 
 thy outfit alone has made in those dollars for which thy 
 parent toiled so long and hard. 
 
 Trueman. {aside to Steady) I stand corrected, friend 
 Steady ; " The lion's cub is to be stroked, not chafed ;' s 
 thou art the younger man of the two, but, in this in- 
 stance, hast approved thyself by much the wisest. 
 Thou and I wilt take no retrospective view ; that 
 sponge which must one day discharge the national 
 debt of Great-Britain, shall be applied to free friend 
 Richard of his difficulties.) Richard, for once be 
 
 k 2 
 
126 
 
 wise ; again do we tender unto thee a co-partnership in 
 our house ; which at the worst will yield a nett ten 
 thousand per annum, to each of us ten thousand, 
 as thou well knowest. Have done then with thy 
 vanities : sell out thy furniture ; discharge thy ser- 
 vants, and re-let thine house. After doing all this, 
 if thou findest thyself worth sixteen thousand dol- 
 lar s 9 it is more than friend Steady and myself ex- 
 pect. Heretofore our price of partnership was twenty 
 thousand : we will now content ourselves with what- 
 ever may be remaining to thee ; because we wish to 
 serve thee, and lead thee back into the paths of indus- 
 try, frugality, temperance, and morality, from which 
 the evil ones of this world have, for a moment, tempt- 
 ed thee to stray. 
 
 Richard. Your offer, my much respected friends, is 
 a most noble and disinterested one, for which I pray 
 you to accept of my most grateful thanks ; but I have 
 unfortunately imbibed an invincible aversion to trade : 
 an aversion now so deep rooted that I fear it will be 
 impossible to eradicate it However, ten thousand 
 dollars a year, certain income, is worthy of almost 
 any sacrifice to a feeling, which possibly has its origin 
 in prejudice, and unjustifiable pride. Will you have 
 the goodness, honoured sir, to allow me three days re- 
 flection on the subject. I lament that five minutes 
 should be required to make up my mind respecting 
 so very advantageous a proposition, but our passions 
 
 re oftimes our master. 
 Trueman. (interrupting him) It is unnecessary to 
 say more, Richard : we cheerfully accord unto thee 
 the three days requested, and take our leave, in the 
 hope that thy good angel will hover over thee, and 
 open thine eyes, so that thou mayest see thy true m- 
 terest, and act accordingly. 
 
127 
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII. 
 
 Another great triumph for Christianity, 
 
 ENDEARING and flattering as was Sophia's letter, 
 it had a very ill effect upon me ; inasmuch as it threw 
 me all aback again, and I became, by ten thousand times 
 more disconsolate than ever. I even ceased to hope, 
 considering her as utterly lost to me ; was baby enough 
 to keep my chamber, and entertained serious thoughts 
 of quitting my native land, and residing abroad, until 
 the death of her father ; should it be my lot to outlive 
 him, which I greatly questioned. My friends, how- 
 ever, after the first violent paroxysms of my grief had, 
 in some measure, relieved my bursting heart, contrived 
 to set before my mind's eye, such a picture of my 
 extravagances, as caused me to be ashamed of myself; 
 for it was so correctly drawn, that I could not avoid 
 acknowledging the accuracy of the likeness on the in- 
 stant. Again I became a man, and again devoted my- 
 self to the arduous duties of my profession : happy, 
 thrice happy was it for me that I did so ! 
 
 Several months had passed away without the occur- 
 rence of any thing material, when I was called up in 
 the night to visit the child of a man, who kept one of 
 our most celebrated hotels ; which had been suddenly 
 attacked with croup. I hastened to, and remained with 
 it, until it was perfectly relieved, and was about to re- 
 turn home ;. when a bustle, of no common description, 
 below stairs, commanded my attention, and I soon 
 made good my way into the room from whence the 
 noise proceeded. Assuredly the hand of heaven was 
 in this thing, for the abandoned brother of Sophia was 
 one of the party ; was -very unpleasantly situated ? 
 and an opportunity was offered me, which I eagerly 
 embrace^, to render him a most important service, 
 
123 
 
 What that service was must not be told: 
 
 ■for on this night he sowed the last seed of 
 
 his wild oats, as will be seen in the sequel. 
 
 " Our business done and over," I offered him a seat 
 in my carriage, which he thankfully accepted ; and I 
 put him down at his father's. 
 
 1 arrived at home pleased with myself, and in good 
 humour with all mankind : for my resentment against 
 the father of my love was necessarily banished from 
 my bosom when I inflicted upon him, in the person of 
 his darling boy, a christian's vengeance, — returned 
 him good for evil I 
 
 I went to bed, but could not sleep : this may bring 
 forth something, thought I. The son must make a 
 
 confidant of the father ; and if he has any bowels 
 
 I continued to conceit a thousand things until the sun 
 looked in upon me, and silently rebuked the sluggard. 
 Having a number of patients on my sick list, I did not 
 get through attending upon them until dinner time, 
 and had just re-entered my habitation ; when, hearing 
 a knock at the door, and no servant being in waiting, 
 I answered it myself. It was the brother of Sophia !!! 
 I absolutely thought he would have devoured me, and 
 hailed with rapture the favourable augury. " You must 
 admit me as one of your Jirst friends , Dr. Bloomfield, 
 for I feel myself to be such. Twelve hours ago I 
 was unworthy of, and should not have aspired to, the 
 honour. You will now find me a reformed man. 
 Henceforward it will not be disreputable, I trust, for 
 any one to associate with me. And it is you, even 
 you, who have wrought the miraculous work ; for, 
 believe me, nothing short of a miracle could have 
 effected it. But I must not keep you in suspense t 
 there is a letter for you ; read it, my preserver and 
 
 benefactor, and be as happy as 1 wish you to be." 
 
 It was from his father j the patrician had designed to 
 write to the son of a carpenter !!! If I was astonished 
 at receiving it j how much more so was I, at its con- 
 tents !!! 
 
 " Dear sir, 
 
 " I have wronged you, and ask your pardon. As a 
 christian, I know you will cheerfully grant it, and for- 
 
129 
 
 give and forget the injury. You have humbled me 
 into the dust, by the weight of obligation which you 
 have heaped upon me. To you I am indebted for the 
 everlasting soul of my only son ; but for you he would 
 have died in a state of reprobation ; you have shown 
 me how much greater, how much nobler, the true 
 christian is, than the man ; even though that man 
 should chance to be an emperor. Where is my ridi- 
 culous family pride now ? gone ; and remembered 
 only to be laughed at ; you have removed from my 
 eyes a film of thirty-five years standing. Will it ever 
 be in my power to cancel a thousandth part of the 
 debt I owe you ; Never ; never !!! But all that I can 
 do, shall be done, and quickly too : I will not be re- 
 conciled unto myself until then. Fly to me, my son ; 
 hereafter, it will be my glory and pride so to call you. 
 Your Sophia, who is apprised of every thing, anxiously 
 expects you ; my wife (who has had many alter- 
 cations with me on your account) pants to encircle 
 you with her maternal arms ; and the sight of you will 
 not be less grateful to 
 
 " Your Father-in-law ; that is to be. 
 « Dr. Bloomfield." 
 
 What a triumph was this for the holy cause of Chris- 
 tianity ! Yes, unbelieving reader, for the cause of Chris- 
 tianity ! For that blessed religion, which will one day 
 (and I pray God it may not be a distant one) reign 
 lord of the ascendant ! A day on which the Chris- 
 tian—the Jew — the infidel — and the heathen, will, 
 like a band of brothers, bow down before the cross ! 
 and look unto salvation, only through the medium of 
 him, who offered up his most precious blood as an 
 atonement to the God-head, for the sins — the in- 
 calculable sins, of the degenerate descendants of 
 Adam' ******** 
 
130 
 
 CHAPTER XXIX. 
 
 •' Gallop apace, you fiery-footed steeds, 
 To Sophy's mansion ~ 
 
 I WAS in such an ecstacy after the perusal of Mr. 
 
 „ 's unlooked for, and most gratifying letter, that 
 
 I had well nigh forfeited all claim to the character of 
 a steady man ; and that too in the presence of a gen- 
 tleman, with whom I had never exchanged a word 
 previous to the last twelve hours ; he having looked 
 down upon me, as a being of inferior order, as well as 
 his sire. I had just presence of mind enough to or- 
 der my carriage to be got ready in a hurry, never 
 dreamt of changing my dress, or of inviting my bro- 
 ther-in-law, that was to be, to partake of some refresh- 
 ment. He however was resolved to show me, that 
 he already considered himself at home in my house ; 
 helped himself to a glass of wine without ceremony ; 
 and countermanded my orders without scruple. 
 There is no necessity for your carriage, my dear sir, 
 I came in my curricle, in order that I might have the 
 pleasure of being your Phaeton ; and of driving you, as 
 near as may be, to the Sun of your affections. Perad- 
 venture I should have said Moon , but I am too much 
 overjoyed myself to be select as to my language. I need- 
 ed not to be solicited twice, and had actually put on my 
 beaver ; when he reminded me, that it was indispen- 
 sably necessary to exchange my grave professional 
 garb for gayer attire. " You surely Avill not wear 
 black on so blissful an occasion as this." I was 
 in, and out, of my dressing room, and ushered 
 into the presence of Sophia, in less than twenty 
 minutes ! ! ! 
 
 The old folks had been thoughtful enough to afford 
 to us a private meeting. And the difficulties which 
 we had surmounted added to the felicity of it. 
 
131 
 
 CHAPTER XXX. 
 
 tJbadiah is married for the third time. 
 
 IT appeared to me that \vc had not been together 
 live minutes, when the old gentleman, impatient to 
 make me the greatest of all reparations for the un- 
 paralleled indignity, with which he had treated my re- 
 spectful application for permission to become a mem- 
 ber of his family ; knocked at the door, requesting ad- 
 mission, which was instantaneously granted. Again 
 he asked my pardon, embraced, and called me, " his 
 dear son." His lady joined us, and received me as 
 affectionately as though I had been one of her own 
 offspring. My Phaeton was now summoned to at- 
 tend. The father united my hand to his daughter's, 
 and prayed that God would bless and sanctify our 
 union. What an interesting moment ! Sophia had 
 nearly sunk under it. Indeed, she must have fainted, 
 if her ever-attentive brother had not promptly furnish- 
 ed a glass of water ; whilst I, for the first time, sup- 
 ported her in my faithful arms ! She was soon restored 
 to herself, and all parties busied in wishing us joy ; 
 after which her brother, very thoughtfully, contrived 
 to relieve our feelings by giving a new turn to the con- 
 versation, if indeed it can be implied by half uttered 
 sentences, in hurried accents. 
 
 Dinner was announced, when, on entering the room 
 (judge of my astonishment, feeling reader, if you can I) 
 I found my father, mother, and sisters, together with 
 their husbands, already assembled there ! ! ! Mr. 
 
 — had determined not to do things by halves-— 
 
 had called on my father, with whom he was well ac- 
 quainted in the way of business ; acquainted him witn 
 the wonderful revolution which had taken place in my 
 heart affair; and honoured him with a most pressing in- 
 vitation to dinner, extending it to all the family, accom- 
 
132 
 
 panying it with a positive injunction, however, that it 
 should be kept a secret from me. He wished to do 
 the thing genteely, he said, and surprise me agreeably 
 every way. 
 
 What an alteration had the performance of my duty 
 as a christian, and as a man, brought about in our for- 
 tunes ! 
 
 But the old carpenter, and his dame, were en- 
 tirely out of their element. — They still laboured under 
 a considerable degree of restraint, for they were the 
 guests of a man, who had until very — very lately been as 
 proud as Lucifer — who had been notorious for treating 
 mechanics as he did his menials J (A manufactured 
 substantive, but let it pass — a verb has been transform- 
 ed into one ere this — finish — for instance). Much 
 rather had they been in the humblest cottage, feasting 
 on bread and water ; than about to sit down to the 
 
 splendid table of Mr. ,now o'erspread with the 
 
 most costly luxuries of the season ! But so completely 
 was he changed, that every obstacle appeared to fly 
 before him ; as did the plundering tories, and Hes- 
 sians, before our gallant whigs during the revolu- 
 tionary war. Or, as the British fled before our troops 
 near Baltimore (during the late contest), after the 
 justly-merited death of Ross, of library burning, and 
 printing-office destroying, memory. (N. B. Was not 
 a certain person, who styles himself doctor, well 
 charged with Madeira, and influenced by the British 
 gold, which he acknowledges to have received, for 
 professional services to be rendered to an unfortunate 
 countryman, who was accidentally wounded, whilst 
 the Goths and Vandals had a temporary possession of 
 Washington ; when he eulogised him and the detesta- 
 ble Cockburn, at the fag end of a certain medical 
 compilation, which he has had the effrontery to in- 
 trude upon the world ? Those who have the honour of 
 best knowing the " Patriot" — (the doctor is indeed a 
 native of our America, incredulous reader) — would be 
 loth — exceeding loth — to answer in the negative.) 
 For my parents were so overwhelmed with his civili- 
 ties, and affability : that it was impossible for them to 
 continue uncomfortable long : in fact, dinner was not 
 half over, ere they looked and acted pretty much as 
 
133 
 
 though they had been at home : it was, in every sense 
 of the phrase, a dinner of love ; and still none of us 
 seemed to eat with an appetite, or make half a meal : 
 the state of our minds rendering but little nutriment 
 necessary for the support of our bodies ! The fruit 
 service was now set upon the table, and then — aye 
 and then — the new man ordered the servants to with- 
 draw, and remarked to us, after they had so done — 
 that, as there was none but the family present, he 
 wished us, the lovers, to fix upon a day for the wed- 
 ding — locking wickedly at Sophia, and myself — and, 
 the earlier a one you name the better — " Ha, brother 
 Obadiah V* tapping my dad, who was seated on his 
 right, familiarly on the back ; neither you nor I are 
 chickens — and / should not die in peace (Oby must 
 give us his last sermon on the night of his marriage, 
 as / have never had the satisfaction to hear him yet) 
 if I did not see your son married to my daughter. He 
 has won her most honourably. May he long live to 
 wear her. Amen ! quoth Obadiah senior — a word, with 
 which he was precisely as familiar, as with his joiner's 
 plane ! 
 
 Mr. 's wife now took up the " speaking 
 
 cudgels," and observed, that it always rested with the 
 lady and her female friends, to discuss and arrange so 
 important a point. We shall shortly leave you to your 
 wine, and possibly we may be able to report progress 
 when you join us at tea. For Sophia — her giddy — 
 happy parent — had brought the subject of our wedding 
 day so abruptly upon the carpet — that her delicacy 
 was affrighted, and the wings of the wind conveyed 
 her to her apartment. And the face of Obadiah junior 
 was suffused with blushes. — Yea — verily it was — 
 bashful reader — but don't mention it. — * * * *. 
 
 The other ladies retired a few minutes afterwards, 
 bearing along with them an emphatic charge from our 
 male parents To have mercy upon the young peo- 
 ple!!! — The conversation now became general, and 
 my brothers-in-law, who were both lawyers of re- 
 spectable standing at the bar (of course well educated), 
 and very agreeable companions ; contributed not a 
 little to the merriment, sociability, and interest of the 
 evening: provided, always, nevertheless — that they de- 
 
 vol. i. N 
 
134 
 
 spised a bottle of good old Madeira, or choice port-~> 
 when it was out of their sight. 
 
 In a reasonable time we were cited, and as one of 
 them queerly observed, to that apartment, which is 
 sometimes too justly styled "the head-quarters" of 
 malice — envy — scandal, and all uncharitableness — and 
 found the ladies as calm and as quiet as though no 
 business of moment had been before the house ! Even 
 Sophia sat unruffled, until I flew to, and seated myself 
 beside her, tenderly kissing her hand; when she be- 
 came extremely agitated, and almost deprived of the 
 power of utterance ! 
 
 " Well — >\vhat news ?" said my (new) father-in-law 
 that was to be. " I hope you have satisfactorily ar- 
 ranged every thing, and that my dear-— wronged-— du- 
 tiful daughter has not been ' affected coy,' as our un- 
 educated young farmers term it." (Inquisitive 
 reader — the term u affected coy" means — when a 
 young woman is at least as anxious to be married as 
 her lover, and yet, with a vile and pitiful affectation, 
 pretends that she wishes — really wishes, the celebra- 
 tion of her nuptials to be postponed for months ; being 
 well aware, all the while, that her friends are prede- 
 termined that " the consummation so devoutly wished 
 for'* shall take place, the -very next night.) " We 
 have decided upon the day of days, my love, and 
 Sophia has thrown no stumbling-blocks in the way, 
 but favoured us with a prompt concurrence." " A 
 good girl — an excellent girl— you will have got no 
 common prize for a wife this time, son Obadiah." 
 " What think you of this day month, my dear ?" 
 "This day fiddlestick ! If I hear another word about 
 so remote a period, I shall assume the power of a 
 Roman dictator — be above all controul, and have them 
 married before I sleep. Have you any objection to 
 your nuptials being celebrated to-night, my son ?" I 
 sprang from my chair, and, like the hero of a novel* 
 without knowing what I did, cast myself at his feet ; 
 but before I could speak, his wife, who well knew he 
 would so order matters, if not speedily prevented j 
 hastened to him with "we only mentioned this day 
 
 month toteaze you -This evening week is the period 
 
 really determined upon, and you must not think of an- 
 
135 
 
 ticipating it. Our daughter is to have a public wed- 
 ding, in conformity to your own resolve ; and, let me 
 tell you, that we must be exceedingly industrious, or a 
 week will not suffice for the necessary preparations.'* 
 " Now you are reasonable again. That may do; yes, 
 Dr. Bloomfield, the whole city shall know that I am 
 proud of my son-in-law. This day week then let it 
 be, and God grant we all live to see it." Again the 
 pious old carpenter ejaculated | Amen ;" for he was 
 now so old and infirm, that he was seriously afraid he 
 would be gathered unto his fathers in the interim. 
 
 Every thing being so happily concluded upon, I had 
 the audacity for the first time to salufre the lips of my 
 Sophia ; surely I may now call her so in sober earnest. 
 She chastised me with her fan, but the blows were so 
 tenderly inflicted, that they would not have harmed a 
 newly-hatched humming bird. " Bravo ! bravo 1" ex- 
 claimed her father, "I like a lad of spirit, and have at 
 last found out, that you are a boy after my own heart in 
 every resfiect" 
 
 The week soon glided away, for I almost lived at his 
 house; we had a very brilliant and well-attended wed- 
 ding ; only two hundred persons witnessing the cere- 
 mony ; I am now for the third time a brother Benedict^ 
 and for the second time perfectly happy. 
 
136 
 
 CHAPTER XXXI. 
 
 Woman. 
 
 A poetical trifle. Written by somebody, in all probability, but cer- 
 certainly not by me, who am not even a poetaster. 
 
 WHO, in this world of care and strife, 
 Doth kindly cheer and sweeten life, 
 As friend, companion, and as wife? 
 'Tis Woman ! 
 
 Who, by a thousand tender wiles, 
 By fond endearments, and by smiles, 
 Our bosom of its grief beguiles ? 
 'Tis Woman ! 
 
 From whom do all our pleasures flow ; 
 Who draws the scorpion stings of woe ; 
 And makes the heart with transport glow ? 
 'Tis Woman ! 
 
 Who, of a nature more refin'd, 
 Doth soften man's rude stubborn mind, 
 And make him gentle, mild, and kind? 
 'Tis Woman ! 
 
 Who binds us all to one another, 
 By silken bands, of father, mother, 
 Of husband, children, sister, brother ? 
 'Tis Woman! 
 
 When, hours of absence past, we meet, 
 Say, who enraptur'd runs to greet 
 Our glad return, with kisses sweet ? 
 'Tis Woman ! 
 
 Who by a word, a touch, a sigh, 
 The simple glancing of her eye, 
 Can fill the soul with ecstacy ? 
 
 'Tis Woman \ 
 
137 
 
 Eden she lost, ensnared to vice, 
 But well has she repaid its price, 
 For earth is made a paradise 
 
 By Woman ! 
 
 Bid me with mandate stern prepare, 
 To cope with famine, death, despair, 
 All, all, undaunted I would bear 
 For Woman ! 
 
 Place me upon some desert shore, 
 Round which the angry tempests roar, 
 My constant heart should still adore 
 Dear Woman ! 
 
 Guide me to mountains white with snow, 
 Where chilling- winds for ever blow, 
 E'en there contented I would go 
 With Woman ! 
 
 Deep, deep, within the mountain's side, 
 
 I'd dig a cavern for my bride, 
 
 And then my treasure I would hide, 
 
 My own dear Woman ' 
 
 N2. 
 
138 
 
 CHAPTER XXXII. 
 
 The Young Man's Episode continued, 
 
 RICHARD'S true friends had not taken their de- 
 parture long, ere he was joined by several of his false 
 ones. They had another prodigal to prey upon, and 
 were resolved to worship him, and flatter him, and 
 stick to him, like leeches ; so long as he had one dollar 
 to rub against another, and no longer. Of this poor 
 Richard was not, could not be, aware. He loved them, 
 and, in the fulness of his untainted heart, he verily be- 
 lieved, that they returned his love; for their hollow 
 professions passed as current with him as virgin gold. 
 He received them therefore with open arms, but the 
 honourable pecuniary independence, which had been 
 held out to him by messrs. Trueman and Steady, was 
 yet uppermost in his thoughts : indeed he had almost 
 made up his mind to accept of it, when these harpies 
 made their appearance. And what do you think they 
 came for?' why truly to initiate their dufie in the art 
 and mysteries of dram-drinking : or, to speak more 
 fashionably, to teach him how to cure his head-ache by 
 a repetition of the indiscretion which had occasioned 
 it. "A hair of the dog is good for his bite" — is a 
 phrase in high repute, and well understood, amongst 
 topers. Richard had set out hospitably, it was true, 
 but his friends had no idea that their stomachs should 
 be exclusively benefited by his specie. Oh no! they 
 knew better things. To eat and drink him out would 
 be, besides, a work of time, and it would exactly suit 
 the impoverished state of their finances now to fob 
 a few of his thousands, for their own private purposes. 
 How was this to be accomplished ? why, by gambling, 
 to be sure. A caucus had been accordingly held by 
 these worthies, and it was resolved nem. con. that they 
 should first make a drunkard of him, and then pluck 
 him, aye, even of the last feather. 
 
 In pursuance of this diabolical plan, after rallying 
 
139 
 
 their intended victim, and each other, on the excesses 
 of the last night, Richard was asked, if he had as yet 
 taken an antifogmatic ? who replied in the negative. 
 They' told him it was indispensable after a frolic, that 
 they had commenced some two hours before, and driv- 
 en at least half a dozen nails more in each of their coffins 
 (meaning that they had each taken half a dozen drams), 
 that he would feel like another man, if he followed 
 their {laudable) example ; and, lastly, that it would 
 afford them real pleasure, to keep him in countenance. 
 It was not quite twelve o'clock. Richard had never 
 drank any thing stronger than porter, cyder, or beer, 
 previous to taking his dinner until now, but he had set 
 up for a fashionable man ; and who's afraid when there 
 is no danger? had they proposed to him, to dance bare 
 legged in the street, assuring him, at the same time, 
 that it was "all the rage ;" there is no question but he 
 would have promptly given into the extravagance. 
 His side-board was immediately spread with liquors 
 and liqueurs ; and a glass of gin and bitters prescribed 
 for him, - as the very best medicine in his case, for his 
 stomach was still unsettled, and his head still ached. 
 It was swallowed, whilst the gang contented them- 
 selves with wine and bitters. Richard conceited that 
 the liquid fire relieved him. The dose was repeated, 
 he felt yet better : this encouraged him to persevere 
 in the way of doing amiss. A game of loo was now 
 spoken of, but the pigeon had been over-dosed, and 
 was unable to tell the ace of spades from the jack of 
 clubs. He had driven six nails into his coffin, and it 
 became necessary to again convey him to his bed ; 
 and that too before two of the clock : ergo, a feather 
 could not be plucked this day. 
 
 The biteis were bitten, by themselves, for this once, 
 but they had dived sufficiently deep into the character 
 of Richard to be satisfied that they could gull him at 
 pleasure ; and this was all that it concerned them to 
 know. They quitted the mansion of their friend> 
 with whom they had intended to dine, in a sociable 
 way, by the bye; designing to return to the charge 
 on the morrow. The ardent spirits, however, used 
 Richard as ill as five grains of tartar emetic would 
 have done. His servants wepe alarmed, and the famj» 
 
140 
 
 ly physician was sent for ; who having ascertained the 
 cause of his indisposition, had no difficulty in admin- 
 istering to, and removing the effect. The self-created 
 sick man was as well as could be expected by the 
 morning, and so far sensible of one of his errors, that 
 he took a solefnn oath, never again to drink more than 
 was really good for him : and through all his after vi- 
 cissitudes of fortune, he kept immoveably steady to it ; 
 being well aware of the sacredness of the obligation. 
 This saved him, body and soul: but it did not 'retain 
 to him his cash. The Bible on which he had sworn 
 (for he was not far gone enough in the fashion to turn 
 the Holy Scriptures, neck and heels, out of his house), 
 had just been carefully replaced in his book-case, when 
 his old medical friend (who had prescribed for him his 
 first dose of real medicine), made his appearance ; and, 
 as his patient had now no farther occasion for him in 
 his professional capacity, his regard for him and his 
 family, induced him to prescribe for him in his private 
 one. 
 
 Physician. Richard, you were dead .drunk before din- 
 ner yesterday. 
 
 Richard. To my everlasting shame be it spoken. 
 
 Physician. 1 am proud to hear you say so. It was 
 the effect of accident then ? 
 
 Richard. It was ; and shall never be repeated. 
 
 Physician. Never is a very despotic word, and should 
 not be lightly made use of; because we are sinful 
 creatures, and. too often lacking in self-controul. 
 
 Ricliard. I know it, and have therefore availed my- 
 self of the guarantee of an oath. 
 
 Physician. Which you will keep. 
 
 Richard. So long as my reason is continued to me. 
 
 Physician. I believe it. You will have changed 
 your nature else — for, yesterday excepted, I never 
 knew a more discreet, more prudent, and more moral 
 young man. You must have got into very bad com- 
 pany, or very bad company must have got in with you. 
 
 Richard. Neither, respected sir ; my associates are 
 members of our most respectable families — finished 
 gentlemen — but wild, very wild : young men will be 
 young men, you know. 
 
141 
 
 Physician. Unquestionably a young man is a young 
 man ; but P am yet to learn, thai, because a man is 
 young, it should of necessity follow that he be a drunk- 
 ard, a gambler, a libertine — in brief, every thing that 
 is bad. The profoundest logician under heaven would 
 fail to convince me, that vice is excusable, at any pe- 
 riod of our lives. So long as a proper line of demar- 
 cation continues to be kept up between levity and im- 
 morality, I could look over, and pardon, the follies 
 proceeding from the one, but never — no never — the 
 crimes originating from the other ! 
 
 Richard. You take up this mattea* a great deal too 
 seriously, my dear sir. God forbid that wildness should 
 imply drunkenness, gambling, and libertinism. Oh, 
 no ! indeed I meant not so. My friends are all men of 
 sterling honour 
 
 Physician. Did they evince their friendshifi, think 
 you, when they urged you (whom they knew to be un- 
 accustomed to strong drink) to swallow six glasses of 
 gin, rendered yet more powerful by the addition of 
 bitters, in less than two hours ? 
 
 Richard. A frolic, sir — a mere frolic, upon my ho- 
 nour : besides, they kept me company every time ; 
 only that they preferred wine with their bitters. 
 
 Physician. And wherefore? because they were aware 
 that they could drink it with impunity. But they did 
 not even do that, if your servant is to be depended upon ; 
 who says, that, the first glass excepted, they threw 
 the contents of the remaining ones upon your carpet, 
 which yet bears the marks thereof. Have a care of 
 those men, my young friend — I know not who they 
 are — but if they were sons of George Washington, 
 John Adams, Benjamin Franklin, and Charles Cotes- 
 worth Pinckney, my opinion of their principles would 
 not be a whit the better. They did not ply you with 
 that " liquid fire" for nothing — Depend upon it, they 
 have some design ufion you. Be advised by me, there- 
 fore, and separate yourself from such dangerous so- 
 ciety, ere it be too late. Return to your old masters, 
 and unite yourself with them in business : an opportu> 
 nity is afforded you, by them, to accumulate for your- 
 self a magnificent fortune. " Now, or never," is your 
 time. 
 
142 
 
 Richard. You are certainly in the right of it, doc- 
 tor. Hitherto, one mind has whispered tome " accept" 
 — whilst another has vociferated " reject." But I am 
 now determined to do, that which i" know will prove 
 beneficial to me. The splendid drawing-room shall 
 be exchanged for the plainer, but more profitable 
 compting-house — midnight revels and morning re- 
 proaches, for regular hours, a hearty breakfast, and an 
 unabused constitution ; and all going out-, for a steady 
 and handsome profit coming in. 
 
143 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIII. 
 
 " It is too late, the life of all his blood 
 Is touch'd — ' — ' — =— And his pure brain 
 Foretells the ending of mortality.'* 
 
 SEVERAL weeks elapsed before my father-in-law 
 could be brought to consent to our removing home ; 
 and Sophia had barely restored the widower's house to 
 order (widowers' houses, like bachelors', are general- 
 ly ill-kept, nice madam), when I was required to pay 
 my last duty to my honoured father. He died after an 
 indisposition of 24 hours — was perfectly in his senses, 
 quite resigned, and took a most tender leave of us all. 
 Indeed, it was old age alone which carried him off, for 
 his constitution ivas fairly room out. Dissipation, or 
 irregularity of any description, had not shortened his 
 days one hour. 
 
 Never have I witnessed a funeral (my patriotic god- 
 father's excepted) which was so generally attended. — * 
 The rich and the poor — the young, the gay, and the 
 decrepid — all— -all— with one heart, and one hand, uni- 
 ted in discharging this honorary tribute to the merits 
 of one of the oldest inhabitants of- . 
 
 Notwithstanding it was an event which we had long 
 since expected to take place^ — of Which he used to 
 calmly speak, and for which we ought all to have been 
 prepared ; it had well nigh proved fatal to our mother, 
 and left us at once parentless. She was upwards of 
 eighty years of age ; she also had deeply felt its ener- 
 vating influence ;— they had lived together—happily 
 lived together— sixty-four years ! And, when the hus- 
 band of her affections passed from time into eternity, 
 she could endure no more, but gave' a loud shriek, and 
 fainted :-- -hours elapsed ere she was restored to her- 
 self; — her constitution had sustained an irreparable 
 shock ;~ -the turtle sighed for a reunion with her true 
 mate — and, in three months afterwards, she was depo- 
 sited by the side of him III ****** 
 
144 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIV. 
 
 if Exultingly I say it, she's mine own ; 
 And I as rich, in having such a jewel, 
 As twenty seas, if all their sand were pearl, 
 The water nectar, and the rocks pure gold." 
 
 IN a reasonable time, — that is to say, in ten or ele- 
 ven months, or thereabouts, — my Sophia made me the 
 happy father of another son, who was called Augustus, 
 in compliment to her father ; and who, from his pre- 
 sent advancement in literature and science (he also 
 sedulously cultivates the fascinating muse !), bids fair 
 to, one day, make a figure, and that no contemptible 
 one, on the stage of life. It has been repeatedly ob- 
 served, by both sexes, that it is impossible for man, or 
 woman, to love twice with equal ardour. — I once 
 thought so myself; and heaven never implanted, in 
 any bosom, a heart, more susceptible of the dear, vivi- 
 fying, tender passion, than I was blessed with. I once 
 loved Louisa as well as ever mortal man did love, be- 
 fore, or since — I still adore and reverence her memo- 
 ry — But So/t/iia has succeeded in convincing me, that 
 one good living wife is worth a church-yard full of 
 dead ones. — I speak it not irreverently : indeed I do 
 not. And, if I did not love her as well as any wo- 
 man need desire to be beloved, I am greatly mistaken. 
 During the very — very short period that Louisa was 
 spared to me, neither an angry look or word had ever 
 escaped us — Indeed we never had the shadow of a dif- 
 ference — for but one soul and one mind appeared to 
 animate us. Thus, too, was it with Sophia — who was 
 continued to me for many years, each one of which 
 
 entitled us to — " The flitch of bacon" We, too, 
 
 appeared to be made for each other. 
 
 [I have been requested, by a learned and tasty female 
 friend, to whom I have occasionally read extracts 
 from the preceding pages, to introduce here, a beau- 
 
145 
 
 tiful poem, which is the production of a Scottish 
 poet, who is, in her opinion (and believe me she is 
 well qualified to judge), inferior only to Burns ; and 
 have complied, because it is not in my nature to re- 
 fuse a lady aught.] 
 
 " TO ELIZA, ON HER MARRIAGE. 
 
 BY HECTOR MAONEILL, ESQ^. 
 
 (Dedicated by me, Obadiah, without the author* s fier- 
 mission, to all the Young Married Ladies in the 
 world.) 
 
 " You're now, Eliza, fix'd for life ; 
 In other words, you're now a wife ; 
 And let me whisper in your ear, 
 A wife, though fix'd, has cause to fear ; 
 For much she risks, and much she loses, 
 If an improper road she chooses. 
 Yet think not that I mean to fright you, 
 My plan, au contraire, 's to delight you ; 
 To draw the lines where comfort reaches ; 
 Where folly flies, where prudence teaches. 
 In short, Eliza, to prevent you 
 From nameless ilis that may torment you : 
 And, ere bright Hymen's torch burns faintly, 
 From nuptual glare conduct you gently, 
 Where (cur'd of wounds from Cupid's quiver) 
 A milder lustre beams for ever ! 
 
 " First, then, Eliza, change your carriage, 
 Courtship's a different thing from marriage, 
 And much I fear (by passion blinded) 
 This change at first is seldom minded. 
 The miss, who feasts on rich romances, 
 And love -sick sonnets, wisely fancies 
 That all the end of ardent wooing, 
 Is constant billing, constant cooing. 
 The nymph, again, whom caution teaches, 
 To doubt the truth of rapt'rous speeches, 
 She whom experience oft has school'd, 
 And shewn how husbands may be — rul'd, 
 Laughs at the whims of fond sixteen, 
 And thinks that wedlock stamps a — queen. 
 Now I (though ne'er, alas ! contracted) 
 Consider both as half distracted , 
 
 TOL. I, O 
 
146 
 
 And will predict that endless strife 
 Must be the lot of either wife. 
 Not that I would infer from hence 
 That men of feeling 1 , worth, or sense, 
 Could ever try to wound or pain 
 A tender breast with cold disdain ; 
 Or e'er descend to storm and battle 
 At fondly — foolish female prattle. 
 Yet if sweet madam, without reason, 
 Will fret and fume, and mutter treason, 
 Plaguing her plain, unpuffing spouse, 
 About his former oaths and vows, 
 And tender sighs, and soft expressions, 
 With various comments and digressions, 
 I will not swear that mere connexion 
 Will guard the husband's warm affection ; 
 And when affection cools, they say 
 The husband's apt to go astray. 
 
 " Maids, prais'd and flatter'd all their lives, 
 Expect as much when they are wives ; 
 And think when husbands cease palav'ring/ 
 That love (sweet souls !) is surely wav'ring : 
 Then hey ! for pets and cold distrust, 
 Doubt's sullen brow, and dreams accurst ; — - 
 The game goes on, ma'am's in the dumps, 
 And jealousy at last is trumps. 
 For thee, fair flower ! of softest dye, 
 That caught so late each vagrant eye, 
 Still breathing sweets, still blooming gay, 
 Beauteous in winter as in May : 
 For thee this truth the muse has penn'd 
 The muse — but more thy anxious friend : 
 « Woman's bright charms were giv'n to lure us, 
 They catch, 'tis true ; but can't secure us.' 
 
 " Sage Solomon, who paints with beauty 
 A virtuous woman's worth and duty, 
 Compares her to a ship of trade, 
 That brings from far her daily bread* . 
 This may be true ; but as for me, 
 I'll draw a plainer simile, 
 And call a virtuous wife a gem, 
 Which for its worth we ne'er contemn, 
 Though soon its water, size, and hue, 
 Grow quite familiar to the view. 
 What then ensues ? Why faith I'll tell you ; 
 We think of nothing but — the value. 
 
 * " She is like the merchant ships, she bringeth her food 
 from afar.'' Proverbs, 31st chap, verse 14th. 
 
147 
 
 Yet take this gem and lay it by 
 From the possessor's careless eye, 
 Conceal its lustre, dazzling- bright, 
 From beaming- daily on his sight, 
 I'll take you any bet at pleasure, 
 Whene'er he views this tempting- treasure 
 With eager bliss and sparkling- eyes 
 Ke'll mark each new-born charm arise, 
 And with the joy of first possession, 
 Admire and rave sans intermission ! 
 
 " If women, therefore, would be wise, 
 Instead of murmurs, tears, and sighs, 
 And sullen moods, and scolding frays, 
 When lovy's absent for some days, 
 Let ev'ry female art conspire 
 To drive him from the parlour fire,. 
 Of all the plagues in wedded life^ 
 To teaze or to torment a wife, 
 There's none more likely to increase 
 The bane of matrimonial peace, 
 Than the tame husband always by 
 With prying and suspicious eye. 
 Mark then, when • * * * goes to town, 
 Smile thou, when others' wives would frown ; 
 He only goes (nay, don't be angry), 
 To take a walk to make him hungry ; 
 To taste awhile, unknown to care, 
 A change of exercise and air ; 
 
 Observe the pert, the bold, the witty 
 
 How diff'rent from his own sweet Betty ! 
 
 Return impatient to his home, 
 
 No husband, but a fond bridegroom . 
 
 " Lastly, Eliza, let me say 
 That wives should rather yield than sway ; 
 To thwart a husband's fixt opinion 
 Is not the way to gain dominion, 
 For kisses order, tears reprove. 
 And teach us rev'rence, fear, and love'!—— 
 O ! born to soothe and guide the heart 
 With native softness, void of art ! 
 Thou whom nor pride nor fashion sways, 
 Unchang'd by fiatt'ry's giddy praise ; 
 And thou to whom a trem'lous youth 
 First spoke the tale of love and truth, 
 Blending with passion's fond alarms 
 
 The bright'ning beam of virtue's charms 
 
 Ah ! lend not now a careless ear ! 
 Yet ! yet attend to truth sincere ! 
 These lines, at least with smiles receive, 
 The last, perhaps, thy bard shall give. 
 
148 
 
 While pleasure spreads her gaudy train, 
 To lure the trifling and the vain ; 
 While fashion kills the tedious day 
 With shopping, concerts, cards, and play ; 
 While female love, and youth's fair charms 
 Shrink from pure passion's ardent arms, 
 And cling to splendour's fancied bliss, 
 With withering age and wretchedness, 
 Be thine, Eliza, more refin'd, 
 "The pleasures of the virtuous mind ! 
 Be then the transports of the heart 
 Which love and goodness still impart ; 
 The tender glance, the tranquil smile, 
 A husband's sorrows to beguile : 
 The blush of joy, divinely meek ; 
 That paints a mother's glowing cheek ; 
 The balm that friendship still bestows ; 
 The tear that drops for human woes ! 
 These, these, Eliza ! light the way, 
 And cheer when other charms decay ; 
 Conduct through care and worldly gloom 
 And whisper joys— r-beyond the tomb. 
 
149 
 
 CHAPTER XXXV. 
 
 Wherein scolding is /iroved to be a disease by irrefra* 
 gable evidence. 
 
 PREVIOUS to the death of the father of my Louisa, 
 he had exacted from me a promise to visit his relations 
 in England, so soon as I could make it perfectly con- 
 venient. He had written to them on the subject ; and 
 left with me, letters to be delivered in the event of my 
 ever being able to comply with his ardent desire. 
 Hitherto the situation of my parents had bound me 
 to the spot of my nativity, for they held to life by too 
 precarious a tenure, to admit of my leaving them : 
 but ; alas ! they were now gone ; t^oth gone ; and I 
 was willing, and could soon be in readiness, to re- 
 deem my conditional pledge. 
 
 I had some time previous to this found it impossible, 
 from my very extensive practice, to do justice to my 
 patients without assistance ; and had, in consequence, 
 taken into co-partnership a young gentleman of first- 
 rate talents, and great private worth, who had lately 
 graduated ; and who had a mother, and several sisters, 
 in some measure dependent on his exertions lor a sup- 
 port. My friends in general were exceedingly well 
 
 pleased with the choice I had made, Dr. 
 
 being a man of popular manners, and known to be well 
 grounded in the theory of his profession. It was there- 
 fore in my power to introduce him almost immediately 
 into lucrative and respectable business; but it was 
 now necessary for me to withdraw altogether; I could 
 not visit the land of my forefathers else, and gratify 
 the dying wish of one of the best of friends and of men. 
 When a man's mina is once definitively made up, it is 
 no difficult matter for him to act accordingly : 1 there- 
 fore commenced making the requisite arrangements 
 upon the spot. 
 
 o 2 
 
150 
 
 I had frequently told Sophia that if I chanced to 
 survive my parents, I should visit Great Britain and 
 France, if the situation of that unhappy country ad- 
 mitted of its being done with comfort and safety ; but 
 she had always considered and treated it as a joke, be- 
 lieving me to be so wedded to my profession, that I 
 could not exist without practising it. I had said no- 
 thing to her oa the subject of late, being resolved to 
 surprise her, and and she was indeed astonished, when 
 she met with my advertisement in a newspaper; de- 
 clining the practice of physic for the purpose of visit- 
 ing Europe ! " I perceive by this, my love, that you re- 
 aliy are in earnest, but you will not cross the Atlantic 
 alone V* and tears stood in her eyes. " Alone, my 
 dearest Sophia ! Never ! If yourself and the children 
 do not accompany me, I go not at all. Come ; what 
 say you to taking a look at the beauties and curiosities 
 of London and Paris?" " I am delighted at the 
 thoughts of it ; and the two boys ; I love the one, 
 nearly as much as I do the other ; and should not en- 
 joy pleasure or peace of mind, if either were left 
 behind : but my father ; he never will consent to our 
 taking Augustus with us.*' " Your father, mother, 
 and brother are to be of our party ; we shall all sink 
 or swim together 1" " Is it possible ! well ; you have 
 really planned a charming excursion for us, and so 
 secretly too, that I give you treble credit for it. My 
 mother has been apprised of it then ?" " A fortnight 
 since/' " And concealed it from me ?" " Merely in 
 order to demonstrate that she can keep a secret." 
 " I shall .90 scold her for it when next we meet I" 
 " Heaven forbid!" " Wherefore?" "You do not imagine 
 that I wish you to be sick, do you ?" " Certainly not !" 
 'And yet scolding is a disease!" " Scolding a dis- 
 ease ! you are facetious this morning !" " Hear what 
 Celsus Boerhaave, A. M. M. D. F. R. S. Sec. &c. &c. 
 says upon the subject*, and be a convert to his novel 
 doctrine !" " I am all attention ; ha, ha, ha !" 
 
 " From the days of the Spectator to the present 
 rime, periodical writers have ino^Jged in invectives 
 against scolding ; from an evident misconception of 
 
 * See Port Folio, vol. 4. 181?. 
 
1S1 
 
 the true nature, principles, and practice of scold- 
 ing. Nay, our ancestors were more to blame, because 
 they went farther, and, considering scolding as a crime, 
 invented a punishment for it ; which was recently 
 inflicted upon one unfortunate woman in the city of 
 Baltimore, who was doubtless ducked to her heart's 
 content ! (Sophia. Ha, ha, ha !) much light has 
 never been thrown upon the matter, but as I have 
 made it my particular study for the last forty-Jive 
 years, that is, ever since I entered into the blissful 
 state of matrimony, I hope I shall have it in my power 
 to dispel the darkness of ignorant and persecuting 
 times, and contribute something to eradicate those 
 unreasonable prejudices, which many gentlemen of our 
 own days entertain against scolding. 
 
 " The theory of scolding has been grossly mistaken. 
 That which is a disease has been considered as a fault; 
 whereas, in fact, scolding is a disease, principally of 
 the lungs ; and when the noxious matter has been long 
 pent up, it affects the organs of speech in a very ex- 
 traordinary manner, and is discharged with a violence 
 which, while it relieves the patients (or they at least 
 imagine themselves to be relieved by it), tends very 
 much to disturb and frighten the beholders, or persons 
 who happen to be within hearing. 
 
 41 Such is my theory of scolding ; and if we examine 
 all the appearances which it presents in different 
 families, we shall find that they will all confirm this 
 doctrine. It is, therefore, the greatest cruelly, and the 
 greatest ignorance to consider it as a crime. A person 
 may as well be executed for a colic ; confined in jail 
 for a fever ; or transported for the gout ; as punished 
 for scolding ; which is, to all intents and purposes, a 
 disease ; arising from the causes already mentioned. 
 
 " Neither is it a disease only of itself, but it is also, 
 when improperly treated, the cause of many other dis- 
 orders. Neglected scoldings have often produced 
 fits, of which a remarkable instance may be found in a 
 treatise written by Dr. Colman, entitled, " The Jealous 
 Wife," in the fourth chapter, or act, as he calls it, of 
 that celebrated work. On the other hand, where the 
 scolding matter has been long pent up, without any 
 
152 
 
 vent, I have little doubt that it may bring on con- 
 sumptions, and those dreadful hysterical disorders 
 which, if not speedily fatal, are sure to embitter the 
 lives of many worthy members of society. All these 
 evils might have been averted, if the faculty had con- 
 sidered scolding in the light of a disease, and had 
 treated it accordingly. In pursuance of my theory, I 
 now proceed to the 
 
 " Symptoms* 
 
 " The symptoms of scolding are these : a quick 
 pulse, generally about one hundred strokes to the 
 minute ; the eyes considerably inflamed, especially in 
 ladies who are fat, and attached to over-doses of ratafia 
 or cherry brandy ; a flushing in the face, very often to 
 a great degree ; at other times, in the course of the 
 fit, the colour goes and comes in a most surprising 
 manner ; an irregular, but violent motion of the hands 
 and arms, and a stamping with the right foot ; the 
 voice exceedingly loud, and as the disorder advances, it 
 becomes hoarse and inarticulate ; and the whole frame 
 is agitated. After these symptoms have continued 
 for some time, they gradually, and in some cases very 
 suddenly, go off ; a plentiful effusion of water comes 
 from the eyes, and the patient is restored to health ; 
 but the disorder leaves behind it a considerable degree 
 of weakness, and a peculiar foolishness of look> espe- 
 cially if any strangers have been present during the 
 fit. The memory too .is, I conceive, somewhat im- 
 paired ; the patient appears to retain a very imperfect 
 recollection of what has passed, and if reminded of any 
 circumstances, obstinately denies them. These symp- 
 toms, it may be supposed, will vary considerably in dif- 
 ferent patients, but scolding is, nevertheless, a disor- 
 der which can rarely be mistaken by the most illiterate 
 and presumptuous quack. 
 
 " Predisposing- Causes. 
 
 "In all diseases, a knowledge of the predisposing 
 causes is sometimes, if not always, necessary to the 
 
153 
 
 cure. In the present case, these causes are, irrita- 
 bility of the vascular system^ an exaltation of the pas- 
 sions, and a moderate deficiency of natural temper — 
 provided always nevertheless — that it was a good one. 
 
 " Occasional Causes. 
 
 " The ocasional causes of this horrific disease — (I 
 say horrific — because it often causes the patient to 
 look like the fancied representations of the devil) are 
 many. Among them may be enumerated, extraordi- 
 nary attentions to kissing : for instance, a very firetty 
 young girl when one's ugly old wife is present ; (a 
 very imprudent ca/ier by the by) — throwing down and 
 breaking a china bason« — misplacing a lately bought 
 and, of course, new fashioned, hat— or a pair of corsets, 
 which wifey never intended that husband should see — 
 treading upon a favourite lap-dog's latter end — (it 
 would be vulgar and highly indecent, to say " tail," 
 you know). (Here Sophia roared). — Pointing out to 
 master where mistress conceals her consoling bottle of 
 " l'eau de vie." — Overdoing a choice haunch of veni- 
 son or sending it in raw — spilling a plate of calf's head 
 soup over a dress which had never been worn before, 
 &c. Sec. with many others which it is unnecessary to 
 detail, because they frequently recur, and it is impos- 
 sible to prevent them, and because, whatever the oc- 
 casional cause of the disorder may be, the symptoms 
 are pretty much the same, and the mode of cure the 
 same. 
 
 " Cure. 
 
 " Various remedies have been thought of for this 
 distemper, bwt all hitherto of the rough and violent kind, 
 which therefore, if they remove the sym/itoms for the 
 present, leave behind them a greater disposition to- 
 ward the disorder than before. Among these the 
 country people frequently prescribe the application of 
 a hickory stick, a horse whip, or a leather strap, and 
 sailors give a decided preference to a cat with nine 
 latter ends — which, however, are all liable to the ob- 
 jection I have just stated. Others have recommended 
 
154 
 
 argumentation ; but this, like inoculation (for the small 
 pox) will not produce the desired effect, unless the 
 patient be, in some degree, prepared to receive it. Some 
 have advised a perfect silence to be observed by all 
 persons who are near the unhappy sufferer, but I must 
 say, that whenever I have seen this mode resorted to, 
 it has invariably heightened the disorder, and some- 
 times produced convulsions. The same may be said 
 of obedience, or permitting the sick to have their own 
 way. This is precisely like undertaking to cure the 
 hydrophobia by draughts of cold water, which cannot 
 be partaken of by the to-death-devoted wretch, or a 
 burning fever by throwing in quarts ol brandy. 
 
 "As the chief intention of this trifle was to prove that 
 scolding is a disease, and not a fault, I shall not enlarge 
 much on my method of cure; because, the moment 
 my theory is adopted, every person will be able to treat 
 this disorder secundum artem. I sh?U mention, how- 
 ever, the following prescription, which 1 never knew 
 to fail (when properly administered) in removing the 
 paroxysm at least : 
 
 " Take 
 
 " Of common sense, thirty grains, 
 
 Decent behaviour, one scruple, i. e. twenty grains, 
 
 Due consideration, ten grains, 
 
 " Mix, and sprinkle the whole with one moment's 
 thought, to be taken as soon as any of the occasional 
 causes appear. 
 
 "By way of diet, though it is not necessary to restrict 
 patients to a milk or vegetable one, yet I have always 
 found it expedient to guard them against those mor- 
 tal enemies of the human race — brandy — rum — gin 
 and above all whiskey : indeed, against any thing, 
 and every thing, which tends to heat the blood. 
 
 " But it is necessary that I should state a matter 
 of the utmost importance in the prevention of this dis- 
 order — (an ounce of prevention being always worth a 
 pound of cure) and which I have left untouched until 
 now, in order that it might be comprehended under 
 one view. It is commonly supposed, and indeed has 
 
155 
 
 often been asserted, that this disease is peculiar to one 
 only of &.e sexes ; and I trust I need not add, what 
 sex that is. Although it may be true that they are 
 most liable to it, yet it is certain, from the theory laid 
 down respecting the predisposing causes, that the men 
 are equally in danger. Why then do we not find as 
 many males afflicted with scolding as we do females ? 
 For this plain reason : — scolding, as proved above, is 
 is the effect of a certain noxious matter pent ufi. Now 
 this matter engenders in men as well as women; but,the 
 latter have not the frequent opportunities of discharging 
 it f which our se,x enjoy. Women are, by fashion, ex- 
 cluded from coffee-houses, debating societies, drinking 
 clubs, a seat in our state legislatures — in congress, &c. 
 Sec. where the men have invitation upon invitation to 
 free themselves from the disorder, whilst in its incipient 
 state. This, and this only, is the cause why the dis- 
 ease appears most frequently in the female sex. Now 
 if the good people of the district in which I reside, 
 would only do me the honour to make me their repre- 
 sentative in congress, the very first use I should make 
 of my privilege would be, to bring in a bill, which the 
 gallantry of my brother members would induce them 
 to rapidly pass into a law ; the object of which would 
 be, to render those ladies eligible to a seat in that au- 
 gust body, who had suffered most with the disease, of 
 which I have been treating. And then — Lord have 
 mercy upon us I what a spouting we should have. 
 We should hear no more of the bewitching oratory, 
 and brilliant language, of a Curran — a Philips — a 
 Dexter — a Pinkney — a Webster — or a Drayton. The 
 scolds, sirs— aye the scolds, whom you have so often 
 flouted at, would speedily convince you, that they, and 
 they only, are invested, by nature's God, with every 
 prerequisite to oratory — genuine and unalloyed — they 
 would appear to change their natures — the fient ufi 
 noxious matter would be exploded — and they would 
 be denounced as pests to society no more ! 1 !" Sophia. 
 Dr. Boerhaave has so far made a convert of me, that 
 I shall be ashamed to scold again as long as I live. 
 Obadiah. Why — surely you never have laboured under 
 the disease ? Ha, ha, ha ! Sophia. Indeed but I have 
 though, and had a violent fiaroxysm of it no longer ago 
 
156 
 
 than yesterday. Obadiah. I am rejoiced to hear it. 
 Sophia. What ! rejoiced to hear, that I made a fool 
 and monster of myself? Obadiah. Not exactly — but 
 because I considered you as too perfect before. Sophia. 
 You should never flatter your wife, my dear — -but suf- 
 fer me to relate to you the occasional cause of my atr 
 tack. — I directed Margaret to take the superb set of 
 tea china, which you intended as a present to your 
 sister Rebecca, and carry it to her ; charging her to 
 be particularly careful of it. It seems, however, that 
 she was of opinion it would be a degradation to her to 
 be seen in the streets, with a waiter on her head, and 
 confided her commission to the thoughtless and luck- 
 less James ; who contrived to stumble by the way — 
 the china found its way to the pavement, and remnants 
 only were saved, for every piece was literally broken. 
 I should not have been so very — very angry, had it 
 been possible to replace it — but you know you import- 
 ed a set for each of our sisters, and ourselves, with 
 appropriate cyphers and remarkable devices — Obadiah. 
 And the upshot of the business is — that Beckie must 
 wait another year for hers. An Indiaman is to sail in 
 a few days, with the super-cargo of which I am 
 well acquainted, and I know it will afford him pleasure 
 to execute any little commission for me : rely upon it 
 my sister's china shall not be forgotten. 
 
157 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVI. 
 
 A sketch of the Life of Colonel McDonald. 
 
 SOPHIA. Well — positively I am all agog for our 
 projected voyage, and shall be as impatient, as our 
 common mother unquestionably was, to taste of the 
 forbidden fruit, until we are fairly embarked ; and 
 should we be able to extend our tour to Paris — I now 
 give you fair warning — I shall urge you to travel a 
 few hundred miles farther, and visit Rome. You have 
 put me so completely into the notion of roving, that, 
 like a true woman, I fear I would not return quite 
 satisfied if I did not view that ancient city — once the 
 mistress of the world, and chosen seat of the arts and 
 sciences — and — drop a tear over the instability of 
 earthly powerand magnificence andopulence. Obadiah. 
 As Rome once was, so Paris is now, but in less than a 
 century she may cease to be denominated the queen of 
 cities : indeed be rased to the ground, and scarcely a 
 vestige of her remain. Think of the fate of Carthage — 
 of Troy — of Jerusalem and Babylon. If the state of 
 the warring powers will admit of it, you shall have no 
 occasion to urge me to show you every thing that is 
 worth seeing in the old world ; having children in our 
 train, however, we must have no absolute difficulties to 
 encounter. But your mother is desirous of seeing you — 
 hasten to her, and be industrious, for our captain calcu- 
 lates on sailing in a fortnight ; and we could not have a 
 more charming season of the year for our anticipated 
 frolic. Away she went, as happy as a newly elected 
 queen of May, on May-day, and I persevered in setting 
 my temporal concerns in such order, f that they should 
 not suffer during my absence, or give to my attorneys 
 unnecessary trouble in the management of them. 
 
 It had been a sort of " sine qua non" with me from 
 the first to prevail upon colonel M'Donald to accom- 
 pany us, and revisit the place of his nativity ; but he 
 had always pertinaciously declined* and notwithstand- 
 
 VOL. I. P 
 
158 
 
 ing I could not but, in part, approve of the reasons 
 he assigned for remaining where he was ; still, as it 
 would have been like leaving a favourite and important 
 limb behind, I, as pertinaciously \ persevered in endeav- 
 ouring to do away his objections ; and his resistance, as 
 the period fixed on for our departure drew nigh, became 
 feebler and feebler. I know not how to part with you, 
 you young dog, said he, to me one day — had you been 
 my own son, I question much whether I should have 
 loved you better — but I have not as yet entrusted you 
 with the most potent of my reasons for being averse to 
 setting my feet on dear old Scotland's sterile soil again. 
 You are not to be informed that, since the union, my 
 countrymen, generally speaking, have been the most 
 loyal subjects the king of England had, or has. Indeed, 
 the Bute faction has long since got them into such 
 excellent training, that they do verily believe in the 
 infallibility of any, and every, crowned head ; whether it 
 overflows with brains, or is brainless — immaterial. 
 So much for that infamous influence behind the 
 throne, which must ere long terminate in a revolution 
 in Great Britain. But, like, Montgomery, and Mercer, 
 such leather-headed loyalty is a species of mental sub- 
 jection to which I was very far from experiencing any 
 disposition to descend. On the contrary, a love of 
 liberty, uncoupled with licentiousness, appears to have 
 been born with me, and to have gathered a tenfold in- 
 fluence over me, as I ripened into manhood — for, no 
 sooner had I correctly understood the nature of the 
 dispute betwixt these then colonies, and their unnatural 
 mother, than I made up my mind to lend to them my 
 feeble aid in the acquirement of " man's birthright" — 
 devised the indispensable ways and means — crossed 
 the Atlantic, and joined the really republican standard 
 as a common soldier — " unknowing and unknown 1" 
 The very first action in which I bore a part, was no 
 joke, let me tell you : it was " the battle of Brandy wine," 
 but the inherent family pride of the M' Donalds carried 
 me through it decently ; notwithstanding our company 
 was as much exposed as, and I believe suffered more 
 than, any upon the ground. We lost all our commis- 
 sioned officers, and, by the time we reached Chester, 
 could not parade an ensign's command. We had this 
 
159 
 
 consolation, however, that we had fought a glorious Jig hi 
 — It was superiority of discipline and numbers — (they 
 had two regulars to our one) — and not a deficiency of 
 courage on our side, that lost us the day; for every Ame- 
 rican, that was engaged, did his duty. It is an old and 
 trite remark " that good very frequently comes out of 
 evil" — thus was it with me, for my first promotion 
 grew out of this defeat : — and in a very few months 
 afterwards, I was privileged to mount an epaulette. It 
 so happened that I was after this period invariably at- 
 tached to the army which was as before commanded 
 by a man without guile — a patriot without reproach — . 
 the hero — the general — and the statesman — George 
 Washington. Under such a chief, it is not to be won- 
 dered at, that even the boys thirsted after military fame : 
 there were many of us who drank freely of the valour- 
 inspiring pool, and for one — my draughts were reward- 
 ed with a lieut.-colonelsy at the disbandment of the 
 army. — I was now let loose upon the world, a gentle- 
 man born and bred, it is true, but without a profession, 
 or a trade, or twenty (silver) dollars in my pocket — or 
 a decent suit on my back. (It was not exactly a whole 
 one) — I looked indeed as though I had been in actual 
 service. 
 
 Some how or other, my connexions at home had 
 heard of my pranks in America, and in their eyes, 
 I had sinned past all hope of forgiveness, inasmuch as 
 I had joined the standard of the rebels, and fought 
 against my king, and the best interests of my country. 
 They, in consequence, disclaimed all relationship with 
 me, forbid me ever to return, on pain of being imme- 
 diately informed against, as a traitor ; and would, un- 
 questionably, have had the memorandum of my 
 christening erased from the parish register, if the 
 minister had not been too honest and honourable a 
 man to suffer it. Luckily, however, there was a snug 
 property in reversion, which could not be withheld 
 from me, provided I only contrived to outlive the 
 present incumbent ; for I had been prudent enough 
 to have my person identified by several Scotch officers, 
 our prisoners, who knew myself and family perfectly 
 well. My right to the succession was hereby per- 
 fectly established, and the discovery oimy quality was 
 
160 
 
 the means of helping me to an excellent and rich 
 wife, only seven years older than myself; who became 
 smitten with me more on account of the noble blood 
 (ha,-ha, ha !) which circulated in my veins, than any 
 thing else. I had her word for it, Oby — Indeed I had. 
 (Apropos, when you reach Old England, as the royal 
 family are mortal, and the prince of Wales, from his 
 excesses, frequently requires phlebotomy, in order 
 ward off apoplexy, or insanity — I charge you to get 
 acquainted with the physicians in attendance : An op- 
 portunity may be thereby afforded you, to analyse some 
 of that blood qf which we have heard so much : the 
 serum, or crassamentum, will doubtless exhibit a very 
 different appearance from that of the plebeians, which 
 you have been in the habit of drawing off; and you 
 will be able to give a satisfactory account of the prodi- 
 gy, to your wondering countrymen, on your return.) 
 H appily for her I was no fortune-hunter (nor as much 
 in love as was necessary, perhaps), but I liked her 
 passing well, and the state of my finances had a won- 
 derful influence over the determinations of my head. 
 We were married, I felt it my bounden duty to treat her 
 kindly, and indulge her in every respect, for to her I 
 was indebted— I blush to say it, for my maintenance. 
 My behaviour soon won her whole heart, and she was 
 perfectly happy — and I should have been so too, had 
 she only borne me children: but we spent fourteeen 
 years very pleasantly together, for all that. Some 
 years previous to her decease the tenant in possession 
 in Scotland took it into his head to retire from the 
 world at a very short notice, and the reversion quietly 
 descended to me. The entail had now ceased, for 
 reasons which it would be superfluous to mention ; 
 and, with the aid of the British minister near the 
 U. S. I was enabled to dispose of the property, at a 
 fair price, to a Scotch gentleman, whose estate joined 
 it ; and who happened to be on a visit to this country. 
 I could now afford to embark largely in mercantile 
 concerns — was a successful trader, and retired from 
 business a few years since, as rich as I cared to be — i 
 for I had no child to heap up wealth for — no, not one I 
 I have now given to you a brief sketch of my uninter- 
 esting history, and thank you for your patient hearing 
 
161 
 
 of it. It only remains for me to add, that a visit to 
 the land of " singed sheefi's heads and haggiss" would 
 be attended with considerable risk to me. Not that 
 any thing is to be directly apprehended from the 
 British government^ or laws, — (for I am an American 
 citizen — and vested with equal privileges with a na- 
 tive of the soil) — but that the former would exultingly 
 connive at my murder I have not a doubt — and there is 
 a base man, who is a stain to the honourable name of 
 M'Donald, betwixt whom, and a title, there is no im- 
 pediment, save your most obsequious ; who would un- 
 hesitatingly, nay joyfully, perpetrate it. Indeed, I 
 should not be at all surprised, if, in order to " make 
 assurance doubly sure," he crossed the Atlantic, and 
 attempted to dispatch me, by my ownjire side. I am 
 egotist enough, in this single instance, to believe that 
 I am as insensible Xofear as most men — but it would 
 be downright, wanton, foolishness, to throw myself into 
 the way of a real Macbeth, a wretch, who would de- 
 posit his own mother, by forced means, under the sod, 
 if one thousand guineas was to be gained by it. 
 
 *^ 
 
162 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVIL 
 
 I have no spur 
 
 To prick the sides of my intent, but only 
 Vaulting- ambition, which o'erleaps itself, 
 And falls on the other.'' 
 
 Even-handed justice 
 
 Returns th' ingredients of our poison'd chalice 
 To our own lips." 
 
 AND this is the not to be gotten over stumbling 
 block which lies in our way, is it? the mighty 
 nothing ! ! ! Call you it nothing then, for a nephew, for 
 the sake of an empty title, and a little paltry pelf, to 
 embruehis hands in his uncle's blood? — Your nephew I 
 Gracious God ! — " The son of my own (loyal) brother." 
 I congratulate you, notwithstanding, for — you have 
 triumphed : I am obstinate and immoveable in many 
 respects, and had thought myself safe in this one — but, 
 you have triumphed — and I will accompany you.-— 
 Let us however coolly mark the end on't — and (half 
 in jest, half in earnest) if your old and staunch friend 
 should be sacrificed — do you " revenge his foul, ac- 
 curst, aad most unnatural murder.'* I promised him, 
 and we separated. Our number was now complete — 
 the only link in the social chain which had been lack- 
 ing was secured to us, and prosperous breezes was 
 the burthen of my song. 
 
 I had made the other members of our party acquainted 
 with the counter- resolution of M'Donald, which diffu- 
 sed a universal joy amongst them, retired for the 
 night, and was in a sound sleep ; when I was awakened 
 to hear that he — even he — was set upon by assassins 
 and desperately, if not mortally wounded ! ! ! I was with 
 with him in a very few moments. One of my brethren, 
 who was the most eminent and experienced surgeon 
 in the city, was already there ; and we immediately 
 proceeded to an examination of his wounds. Fortu- 
 nately they were all flesh ones, but so numerous, that 
 
163 
 
 the fever, which invariably attends upon such cases, 
 was greatly to be dreaded. His age too made against 
 him, but his constitution was a good one ; and the 
 season of the year (the spring) was as favourable as- 
 we could wish. After having treated him secundum 
 artem, and disposed of him tenderly in bed, we enquir- 
 ed, if he could form any thing like a conjecture of the 
 cause of his misfortune, or had recognized the counte- 
 nance of either of the villains ? The colonel was uncon- 
 scious of having a personal enemy in either the new 
 or old world, save the relation of whom we had been 
 speaking the day before, and him he had never seen. 
 As to the stiletto gentry, they were utter strangers to 
 him, but, as the lamps had enabled him to take a to- 
 lerably good view of them, he had remarked, although 
 they were all attired as sailors, that one of them looked 
 the gentleman, in spite of his disguise. He then favour- 
 ed us with the following particulars. He had been to 
 a regular meeting of a whist club of which he was a 
 member, and which had been a favourite place of resort 
 of his for many years. It so happened that not one of 
 his old cronies attended on this evening — he continued 
 with the new set until he was threatened with ennui— and 
 then quit them to return home on foot ; it being a good 
 hour before his carriage was ordered to be in attend- 
 ance. He had not walked twenty yards before he was 
 suddenly attacked by four men, armed with daggers, 
 and slightly wounded in the arm, by the genteel looking 
 one. Had they asked for his purse, he would have 
 given it without hesitation, because four to one is fear- 
 ful odds; but as it was evident it was his life they 
 sought after, he resolved to sell it as dearly as possible. 
 Accordingly, old soldier like, he set his back against a 
 brick wall, drew a dirk, without which he never travel- 
 led ; and defended himself as well as he was able, 
 hallooing " murder" 'between whiles. The genteel- 
 looking villian was most active on the murderous oc- 
 casion, and, in his eagerness to complete the work of 
 blood, unguardedly exposed his left side to the cool 
 and collected colonel, who buried his weapon in it, in 
 a twinkling, and he fell never to rise again. The 
 guard now made their appearance, and the survi- 
 
164 
 
 ving myrmidons fled. Our curiosity was highly ex- 
 cited by this account of the colonel's. Robberies were 
 rare in our city, and years had elapsed since our court 
 annals were stained with the report of a trial for 
 murder in the first degree. We therefore directed 
 our patient to be kept quiet, charged him to speak as 
 little as might be, and repaired to the guard-house 
 whither the body of the dead ruffian had been conveyed;, 
 purposing to examine it and the clothing, in the hope 
 that some clue would be afforded us for unravelling 
 the mystery. But the highly laudable activity of the 
 police had been beforehand with us — so vigilant had 
 its officers been, that the assassins, who fled, had been 
 already discovered and taken, and were undergoing an 
 examination by two of our aldermen when we arrived. 
 We heard it out, and discovered — oh just and marvel- 
 lous dispensation of a great and good God ! that a 
 nephew had fallen by the hands of his uncle ! that un- 
 cle whom he had marked as his own prey. It ap- 
 peared, from the confession of the captive desperadoes 
 (whose looks bespoke them fiends long inured to deeds 
 of darkness and of blood), and papers found in the 
 pockets of the corpse ; that it was the remains of the 
 identical McDonald from whom my friend apprehended 
 an attack when he re-visited North Britain — that the 
 
 old earl of had been dead about ten weeks — 
 
 that his nephew had produced forged letters and docu- 
 ments, purporting to have come from the United 
 States ; which he had previously provided himself 
 with, and which gave a satisfactory account of the 
 death and burial of the colonel, apparently well au- 
 thenticated — and claimed the earldom, as next of 
 blood — that he had obtained it, and taken possession 
 
 of all the property. But he still well knew that the 
 
 rightful heir was alive, and was miserable till he pro- 
 cured a passage for his residence — that he had arrived 
 
 in but four aays before, accompanied by three 
 
 bravoes ; upon whose daggers and his own, he thought 
 he could depend to " free him from his living fear." 
 He had no difficulty in finding out his excellent rela- 
 tion^ and knew him instantly, from the great likeness 
 which he bore to his family ; and the majestic walk 
 and mien, for which the worthies of it had been for 
 
165 
 
 ages remarkable. He next inquired out his accus- 
 tomed haunts, and had taken the colonel at such an 
 advantage, that his escape from death was almost mi- 
 raculous. God will ever defend the just and righteous. 
 M'Donald was a believer, and a firactical christian, 
 without knowing it ; and, yet he was so modest that he 
 did not deem himself worthy to be a public professor 
 of the religion of Jesus — because he played at cards, 
 and chess, and backgammon 1 ! ! Heinous sins indeed ! 
 We all have our foibles, and whims, and eccentricities; 
 but, would to heaven ! every partaker of the most holy 
 sacrament carried along with him to the communion- 
 table, as little real criminality to answer for, as my 
 friend would have done, had his ideas — his exalted 
 ideas — of " the thing most needful" permitted him to 
 attend it. 
 
166 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVIII. 
 
 But few modest Physicians accumulate fortunes. 
 
 NECESSARY as was silence for the well doing of 
 our patient, we considered it as a matter of no small 
 magnitude to his peace of mind, that he should be ap- 
 prised of the events of this night; which had nearly been 
 blackened with a deed of horror. We accordingly 
 hastened back, and finding him awake, and as calm as 
 we could wish, imparted every thing to him. And 
 he really is dead, Oby ? As Julius Caesar, my dear sir. 
 What think you now of our conversation of yesterday 
 morning ? Nothing ; but to anticipate every thing that 
 is good ; we must however lay an embargo upon 
 your speaking any more. We were of opinion that 
 the disclosure might aid us in healing your wounds, 
 inasmuch as it ought to set your mind at ease ; for 
 your cruel enemy can molest you no more. And you 
 
 are the undisputed earl of — I shall never claim 
 
 the title. — I know that ; but the fortune ; you may do 
 a great deal of good with that. — True ; but you must 
 put me upon my iegs first. — That we shall speedily 
 do, if you implicitly follow our directions, for none of 
 your wounds are deep-seated ones. — You have only 
 to issue your orders, and I shall obey them, to the 
 the very letter. — It was now fare o'clock ; previous to 
 retiring we again felt his pulse, and found it only a 
 a little agitated ; no fever ; so much for an abundant 
 bleeding and active cathartic, young practitioners of 
 surgery ! 
 
 We saw the colonel again about nine of the clock ; 
 still no fever; but as his pulse could well bear it, and as 
 we ascribed his escaping so far to the previous deple- 
 tion, we robbed him of a pound more of the purple fluid, 
 and ordered— Yankey. Another cathartic, I hope?-— Not 
 exactly ; we ordered him to drink freely of cremor 
 tartar and water, sweetened to his taste. Yankey. 
 
167 
 
 And a very debilitating mixture you chose for him. 
 Even so ; we meant to continue to deplete, not replete 
 him. You are so unusually inquisitive, friend Yankee, 
 that I shrewdly suspect you purpose commencing the 
 practice of physic and surgery yourself. Yankey. Yes; 
 all other trades failing, but not before, depend on't ; for, 
 in your profession, the impudent, and self-puffing 
 quack is much more likely to get into good business, 
 than the modest physician, who is a man of skill, and 
 science, and learning. He is above resorting to those 
 low and petty arts, which are the foundation on which 
 the former too frequently builds up for himself a 
 splendid fortune ; he disdains to flatter and worship 
 the many-headed monster, and would consider it as 
 compronutting the dignity of the profession, and de- 
 tracting from his merit as a man ; were he to do 
 any thing " ad captandum vulgus I" And what 
 is the consequence ? why to be sure his talents 
 may be properly appreciated by the discerning 
 few, but their practice will not maintain him, or 
 his family ; he commences the world a necessitous 
 man ; continues to be so through life, and even- 
 tually dies, his own executor; no I no ! throw physic 
 to the dogs ; as a money-making business, I'll none of 
 it Author. You are pretty correct in your delinea- 
 tion, my pence-loving calculator. A physician must 
 have, or fiGwerful friends, or a plentiful portion of 
 assurance ; or he had just as well burn his diploma, 
 for the good it will do him, in a pecuniary point of 
 view. 
 
 Meanwhile the stiletto gentry were regularly com- 
 mitted to prison for trial, and will assuredly be, ere 
 long, improving their constitutions by hard labour in 
 one or other of our penitentiaries. 
 
168 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIX. 
 
 Read this, gamblers / / mean misled ones. 
 
 WE left Richard perfectly in his senses, and re- 
 solved that they should depart from him no more. In- 
 deed so thoroughly recovered was he from his recent 
 Infatuation, that he deemed it possible, if he continued 
 to play the gentleman much longer, he might expend 
 his last dollar, and be reduced to want. To want ! 
 dreadful thought ! I shall be wise enough to guard 
 against that evil, said Richard. His writing desk stood 
 most invitingly open ; it was immediately resorted to; 
 and he had just finished a respectful letter to Messrs. 
 Trueman and Steady, gratefully accepting of their 
 benevolent offer, and apprising them that he should 
 be ready for business at the usual hour in the morn- 
 ing; when — the — rooks — came — in. Richard received 
 them as usual, but was so full of the new arrange- 
 ment, and his ten thousand dollars clear income, that 
 he soon informed them he was about to embark in 
 trade as full partner in one of the most flourishing 
 houses in the city. They were thunderstruck thereat, 
 as may very well be imagined ; for their scheme to 
 milk him, of his coveted ready, was likely to be crum- 
 bled into dust. They had not come prepared for this, 
 and were completely nonplused ; but it was necessary 
 that something should be done, and promptly too, or 
 their pigeon would escape from them without the loss 
 of a feather. At first, they affected to consider him 
 as in jest, but he soon convinced them to the contrary, 
 by exhibiting his communication to his former masters, 
 and dispatching it in their presence. The greatest 
 knave of the gang recollected, however, that he had 
 more than once reaped an abundant harvest, when 
 first appearances were even more inauspicious than 
 at present^ and with unblushing effrontery, began to 
 rally him on the ridicule to which he would be exposed 
 
169 
 
 by throwing off the gentleman, and putting on the cit 
 again — no merchant ranking as a gentleman, according 
 to the scoundrel's refined idea of gentility — but he soon 
 discovered that his raillery was ill-timed, and changed 
 his battery, as by magic. Richard, together with the 
 rest, was invited by him to dine, in the most pressing 
 manner — he had come purposely in person to do him 
 the more honour, he said, — and, as it was to be his 
 last idle day, Richard most willingly accepted of the 
 invitation. The sharpers now withdrew, and assem- 
 bled at a neighbouring coffee-house, to debate and de- 
 termine upon the course to be pursued in this alarm- 
 ing exigency. 
 
 At the hour appointed, Richard repaired to his 
 honourable friends, found the entire set in waiting, 
 and partook of an exquisite dinner : but he could not 
 be prevailed upon to drink any other liquor than wine, 
 and very little of that — the burnt child was more ab- 
 stemious than ever, and candidly assigned to the dis- 
 appointed and gaping bad men the sacred obligation 
 he was under — never to be intemperate again. Albeit 
 he had not included in his oath, and more's the pity, 
 an abstinence from cards ; they were introduced at an 
 early hour, and Richard was a dear lover of an inno- 
 cent game. They commenced playing for a very trifle 
 — say — one dollar the deal — two the loo — and one, the 
 contribution ; and the gamblers having " the devil's 
 books" as completely under their controul as the most 
 dexterous slight-of-hand man ; easily contrived that 
 Richard, who had but an indifferent knowledge of the 
 game, should sweep, the pool almost every time. It is 
 a lamentable fact, that there is no habit which can be 
 more suddenly acquired than an itch for gambling : 
 a single evening sometimes suffices. Thus was it 
 with my friend, who was greatly elated by his good 
 fortune, and greenhorn like, very modestly set it down 
 to the account of his superior play. He was in con- 
 sequence, without difficulty, prevailed upon to do busi- 
 ness on a large scale, and was suffered to retire about 
 sunrise, with two thousand dollars of his friends* money 
 in his pocket i ! ! Two thousand dollars for one night's 
 work, besides the gratification resulting from the dan- 
 gerous amusement ! merchandise is a fool to this, 
 
 Q 
 
170 
 
 thought the unwary stripling. I have now a sure resort, 
 even though my twenty-five thousand dollars should 
 fail me. The ten thousand per annum had charms 
 for me it is true, but what are they when put in com* 
 petion with two thousand per night ? and the simple- 
 ton found his way to his resting place more disgusted 
 with wholesale and retail than ever. Every night was 
 to be equally propitious with the last, and it is highly 
 probable he estimated his after income at 300,000 dol- 
 lars ! ! ! An income to be derived from gambling ! 
 
 He was to have been in the counting-house of 
 Messrs. Trueman and Steady, by his own appointment, 
 at eight of the clock, but he had never before sat up 
 an entire night in his life ; and was so overcome with 
 want of sleep that he neglected to notify them — that 
 keeping bad hours incapacitated him for business on 
 this day. The faithful pair had been delighted at the 
 reception of Richard's letter, inasmuch as they had 
 not expected a reformation to take place in him so 
 soon ; and looked for him to make his appearance in 
 vain, until mid-day. Steady, who was most interested 
 in the affair, for reasons which shall be assigned here- 
 after ; proposed to Trueman that they should once 
 more visit the house of prodigality, and learn — what 
 was the matter. Again they entered the mansion of 
 Richard, and were informed by a loquacious servant, 
 that master was still asleep, and good reason why — he 
 had not gone to bed until an hour by sun, had been 
 playing cards all night, and won a vast sum of money. 
 This intelligence caused the quaker to groan heavily 
 in the spirit for they now considered the lad as irre- 
 trievably lost ! Still they would see him — the hireling 
 might have falsified or been mistaken, and that descrip- 
 tion of christians, being least given to talk scandal, 
 never*condemn any one, without an impartial trial, or 
 hearing. Accordingly, a servant was instructed to 
 awaken him, to hear what grated upon his ear. There 
 was, however, no alternative. He must see them — 
 and he was weak enough to boast of his speculation 
 of the night before. Trueman. And thee actually^ 
 won two thousand dollars ? Richard. I did, upon my 
 honour, fairly won them. Trueman. Fare thee well, 
 unhappy misled youth. Thou needst not be at the 
 
171 
 
 pains to come to our counting-house — in it there is no 
 room for thee. Richard. Then you decline the prof- 
 fered partnership ? Trutman. Unquestionably. No 
 gambler shall ever be entrusted with the cash of our 
 firm. Richard. I had intended to have been before- 
 hand with you. Trueman. So much the worse for 
 thee ; (with peculiar emphasis) when thy last dollar 
 has departed from thee, thou mayest draw upon us for 
 a reasonable sum to meet thy necessities — payable at 
 sight. — Once more — fare thee well. 
 
 I would commit suicide first, said Richard, after 
 they were out of hearing. 
 
 After this laconic dialogue, Richard's disposition for 
 sleep vanished. He dressed in all haste, breakfasted, 
 and then joined his friends ; who were in ecstacies 
 when apprized that he had abandoned all thoughts of 
 trade, and was fascinated with loo! They were now 
 sure of their game : he was challenged to give them 
 their revenge in the evening, and again permitted to 
 win considerably. He continued to feast and gamble 
 with them, with various success, for four months ; 
 when their patience became exhausted — the mask was 
 thrown off — he was drawn in to play unlimited loo — and 
 literally, quitted the table fiennyless I ! 
 
172 
 
 CHAPTER XL. 
 
 Colonel McDonald is restored to health and his friends. 
 
 OUR prospect of visiting England was now doubtful 
 for this season. To leave colonel M k Donald behind, 
 who was beloved as a father, and brother, by each and 
 every one of us, being not to be thought of. Unques- 
 tionably it was a disappointment to us, but when we 
 reflected on the cause of our detention, we shuddered 
 at what might have been the effect, and regretted it not. 
 We even felicitated ourselves upon its happening, when 
 and where it did, for the colonel could now visit his 
 dear native land in perfect safety ; as we considered 
 his life in no manner of danger, notwithstanding fever 
 had at length deigned to visit his prostrate subject. 
 However, as he did not handle him roughly, we were 
 satisfied that his empire 'Nvould be of short duration. 
 Our patient did not storm and fret, and rave and swear, 
 as has been the case with very many whom I have had 
 to manage — a course of proceeding which never failed 
 to greatly aggravate their sufferings, and procrastinate, 
 and indeed frequently jeopardize their cure — O no ! he 
 submitted to our treatment with cheerfulness and ala- 
 crity — and bore every thing with the meekness of a 
 divine, and the fortitude of a disciple of Zeno. — Not a 
 murmur ever escaped his lips On the contrary, he 
 was hourly returning thanks to his God that he had es- 
 caped so well. And he met with his reward, for in 
 four weeks he was as sound a man as ever. The ves- 
 sel in which we were to have gone, had by this time 
 sailed, but another, as good as she, was up for Liver- 
 pool ; to sail in ten days. The colonel was as anxious 
 now, as he was indisposed before, to plough the ocean 
 — the temporary delay had sharpened our appetites for 
 it, we monopolized the entire cabin, and thought to have 
 set our feet on British ground, ere we were many 
 weeks older ; when a new and unforeseen calamity 
 befel me — a calamity which might have subjected me 
 to an ignominious death. 
 
173 
 
 CHAPTER XLI. 
 
 Obadiah is more in trouble than ever, if /wssible. 
 
 FIVE clays before we were to take our departure, 
 wind and weather permitting, I received a note from 
 one of our most eminent barristers, desiring to see 
 me at his office immediately, on business of the ut- 
 most importance. My father had, early in life, imbi- 
 bed an inveterate and insurmountable prejudice against 
 lawyers, but it had not descended to his son ; who well 
 knew that there were good and bad men of all profes- 
 sions, and of all trades. Still the tenour of his note, 
 which had been cautiously, and privately, delivered to 
 me by his head clerk ; was calculated to excite in my 
 breast no small portion of surprise. I had committed 
 no crime, and was indebted to no one a cent. What 
 business then could he have with me ? It was only to 
 be unravelled by a prompt attention to the summons. 
 I repaired to the place appointed, and was ushered in- 
 to a private room. The lawyer soon joined me, and 
 carefully locked the door. This preparation must 
 mean something of more than common importance, 
 thought I. After the usual interchange of compli- 
 ments, I requested him to solve the nature of the bu- 
 siness which rendered this ptivate interview necessary. 
 He hesitated and almost blushed, for he was an honest 
 lawyer, a man of feeling, and a gentleman. After a 
 considerable pause, Dr. Bloomfield, observed he, I be- 
 lieve you were unfortunate in your second marriage ? 
 Eminently so, replied I, amazed at the question. Your 
 
 unworthy wife's maiden name was Maria ? 
 
 Yes, sir. And she is no more ? I bowed, for astonish- 
 ment had deprived me of the power of utterance, and 
 I began to apprehend I knew not what. You are po- 
 sitive she is dead then ? — Her brother and myself saw 
 her breath her last. — I pray God it may prove so, for 
 there is a woman, now in this city, who professes to 
 he the identical person, who has instructed me to pro- 
 fit 2 
 
174 
 
 secute you for bigamy, if you do not compromise mat- 
 ters instanter — and who has stimulated me to be inde- 
 fatigable in my vocation, by a very handsome fee, $500. 
 —She is an impostor, my dear sir ; on my honour she 
 
 is, for Henry and myself could not have been 
 
 mistaken, as to the real Maria, for certain communi- 
 cations which she made to us of matters known only 
 to ourselves. — I doubt not your innocence and convic- 
 tion of that fact, Dr. Bloomfield ; I have known you 
 too long, personally, and by character, to entertain the 
 remotest suspicion on the subject ; but I fear yourself 
 and brother have been imposed ufion. — I knew Maria 
 — — — perfectly well — her features and form are as 
 familiar to me as those of my own daughters ; and I 
 never saw twin-sisters as much alike as your intended 
 prosecutor is to her. Moreover, she is in possession 
 of jewels given to her she says by her mother, and by 
 you — even your picture is not wanting — but she ex- 
 clusively depends, I might almost say, upon a remark- 
 able mark on her right shoulder to identify her claim 
 upon you. Had it not been for the extenuating cir- 
 cumstances connected with the case, I should have 
 been bound, as attorney-general for the state, to have ta- 
 ken her deposition and proceeded against you immedi- 
 ately. I moreover knew that you would not avoid the 
 prosecution, if it must be brought on ; and rely upon 
 your discretion in not making public my having ap- 
 prised you of the application, as, in doing so, I have 
 overstepped the bounds of my duty. The abandoned 
 hussey is sure that she can recover very heavy dama- 
 ges at law, if she is not privately satisfied ; I did not 
 undeceive her, and inform her, that a criminal action 
 only could grow out of her complaint. My reasons for 
 not adopting a contrary line of conduct must be obvious 
 to you. J received her fee, but, of course, do not mean 
 to keep. it. Your counsel, if you employ any, will ex- 
 plain, why I momentarily retained it. Fortunately the 
 court of sessions commences in two days, and, if mat- 
 ters are not accommodated in the interim, you need 
 only be confined a few hours before trial. I must go 
 to jail, then ? — The person of president Washington 
 would not be sacred on an occasion of this kind. — I 
 thank heaven that my honoured parents are not in ex- 
 
175 
 
 istence. They would not have survived my disgrace 
 twelve hours, for I shall offer no terms to the monster, 
 even though she prove to he what she pretends ; 
 which is scarcely possible. — It is not my province to 
 advise you as to the measures to be taken in the pre- 
 mises, but as to the disgrace which will attach to you 
 for bending the knee in submission to the laws, I would 
 incur it for a pinch of snuff. I dare say no more than 
 this to you, that there is no ground for alarm, should 
 she prove to be your former wife ; and, I will not flat- 
 ter you, my opinion is with her on that point. 
 
 I tendered him my best acknowledgments for his 
 noble, though unprofessional conduct in this delicate 
 affair, and hastened away to discuss this unpleasant af* 
 fair with my Mentor. 
 
176 
 
 CHAPTER XLII. 
 
 Obadiah is to be Jirst pitied, and then congratulated. 
 
 I FOUND him at home and alone, and briefly nar- 
 rated the new difficulty in which I was involved, " Be 
 thou as chaste as ice and pure as snow, thou wilt not 
 escape calumny" — Oby — this is, however, a spice of 
 the incredible — bottomed on neither more or less than 
 a conspiracy to defraud you of a handsome sum, as 
 hush-money : — for, although wealthy, the world 
 deems you, as is usual, a great deal more so than the 
 reality. I know the attorney-general well — and his 
 professional knowledge, which is scarcely to be sur- 
 passed, is his least recommendation ; but the snow of 
 sixty winters has fallen heavily upon his head, and one 
 of his senses has, for years past, been very defective 
 — that of seeing He has been imposed upon by — we 
 shall find out who — before you swing — ha, ha, ha !— 
 Nevertheless, as it is a very serious business — ha, ha, 
 ha ! — don't go and make my daughter Sophia miserable 
 by intrusting her with it. — Good husbands conceal no- 
 thing from their wives, except they go astray — and 
 that would not bear a disclosure, in the best regulated 
 family — no — no— drive as quick as your horses can 
 
 carry you to my friend lawyer « ■ 's ; say to him 
 
 that I sent you there — put him in possession of all 
 the facts relating to your wife that was, and who says 
 she is resuscitated — and let me hear the result be- 
 fore you return to your family. — Second thoughts are 
 best sometimes — I will write a few lines by you, and 
 he proceeded so to do. I now remarked, that I would 
 greatly prefer his accompanying me. — It is impossi- 
 ble — I have business of treble the moment to attend 
 to. I felt hurt by this declaration, was silent until he 
 finished his note, which he sealed, and delivered me. 
 I took my leave, and directed my course to the law- 
 yer's. 
 
177 
 
 He was absent, but expected to return momently. — ■ 
 I determined to wait for him — was shown into his of- 
 fice, and endeavoured to allay the ferment of my spi- 
 rits by looking over his library, which was an exten- 
 sive one. In the course of my research I stumbled 
 upon a law dictionary, and turned, with some eager- 
 ness, to the word — bigamy. I had barely read the ar- 
 ticle through, when the owner of the book made his 
 appearance. I was indifferently well acquainted with 
 him, but the supposed felon felt abashed, and colonel 
 M'Donald's letter had to speak for him, whilst I slipt 
 a pretty considerable fee into his hand. My lawyer 
 perused it attentively, and 1 thought I saw something 
 very like a smile stealing over his features. It was 
 however quickly suppressed. I now stated my case 
 to him at full, commencing with Mark's first aberra- 
 tion from virtue, and terminating with the scenes 
 which preceded her dissolution, not forgetting the 
 substance of my interview with the attorney-general, 
 which I entrusted to him in confidence. He arose, 
 shook me heartily by the hand, and partly reconciled 
 me to my misadventure by speaking as follows : I 
 perceive, Dr. Bloomfield, that this thing has distressed 
 you exceedingly, and hasten to set your mind at ease. 
 You have retained me as your counsel, and I engage 
 to bring you off, not only with unsullied honour, but 
 with glory. It is eight and thirty years since I was 
 admitted to the bar, and I have never had a more spot- 
 less defendant 1 a cause to manage — nor will it prove a 
 difficult one. Of this you will be convinced when I 
 assure you that all my measures are already taken. — 
 It is unnecessary for me to consult a single author. 
 The attorney-general is a man in a million. — You are 
 under greater obligations to him than you have any 
 idea of. When he accepted of that fee from the pro- 
 secutrix that would be, he acted as much in your be- 
 half as any father could have done ; and has benefitted 
 you more than he is aware of himself ; for that circum- 
 stance alone furnishes me with what I deem conclu- 
 sive evidence, that it was really your wife whom you 
 buried, and that this is some artful, impudent jade, 
 who happened to be very like her ; and who has been 
 tutored for the purpose. The real Maria would have 
 
178 
 
 applied to you in the first instance. With her, a law- 
 yer, and the law, would have been a dernier resort. 
 She might expect to gratify her vengeance by the one, 
 but her pockets might have been rilled by the other. 
 She was too enlightened not to know that a criminal 
 action only would lie for bigamy- Again, the deceas- 
 ed could have had no possible motive for deceiving you, 
 and affecting to be the penitent. Her sufferings on 
 the bed of death must have elicited the truth from her. 
 Your Maria was well educated and made use of excel- 
 lent language — so did she play — an accomplishment 
 which is rarely to be met with in houses of ill fame. — 
 Your Maria was born with a remarkable mark upon 
 her shoulder. She exhibited to your view precisely 
 such an one, and finally recited such of your private 
 transactions when together, as were unknown to a third 
 person. — But you must see this ghost of u flesh and 
 blood." See her! aye, see her, and judge for your- 
 self. — It is indispensable. — You cannot be deceived, and 
 you will sleep the sounder to-night for having detect- 
 ed the contemplated imposition. Pretend that you 
 have come to compromise matters, if she really is Ma- 
 ria, and doubtless her ladyship will have assurance 
 enough to be visible. Money the creature wants, and 
 money she will have — if she can get it. — But I fore- 
 see she will get—into the penitentiary first. 
 
 A knock was now heard at the door, and M'Donald 
 entered without ceremony. His looks instantaneous- 
 ly attracted my attention, for Hogarth could not have 
 limned Job with a more dismal physiognomy. What 
 is the matter with my old friend to-day ? said the law- 
 yer, affectionately. That face which usually beams 
 with smiles and good humour, is as much o'erclouded 
 as though it had just witnessed the interment of all you 
 held dear on earth. I am in a piteous quandary, San- 
 dy, and scarcely know what to do, or whither to turn 
 me. Ah — Oby — Oby — God only knows what dread- 
 ful misfortune is to betide us next. I have seen this 
 woman. — Lawyer, hastily. And ascertained that she 
 is an impostor. — He was silent. — Then I am lost in- 
 deed ! nevertheless the certainty can scarcely be worse 
 than the suspense. You think that it was a fictitious 
 Maria whose remains Henry and myself conveyed to 
 
179 
 
 the silent tomb? I am afraid, Obadiah, that the attor- 
 ney-general was right. I covered my face with my 
 hands ; a mother's weakness came into my eyes, and I 
 wept aloud. Summon up all your fortitude, Oby, and 
 shrink not from this arduous trial. If ever there was 
 a time which imperiously called upon you to exert 
 every nerve to put down womanish feelings, and wo- 
 manish conduct, this is it. I conjure you, by the 
 chaste love which you bear to my daughter Sophia, to 
 be a man. — It is the thoughts of her which unmans 
 me : but I will be calm, and would fain know such of 
 the particulars of this mysterious affair as it is in your 
 power to communicate. — You had scarcely left me 
 ere I hied to the attorney-general's, and procured di- 
 rections to Maria's lodgings. — She is indeed Ma- 
 ria, then ? He shrugged up his shoulders. I drove 
 thither, enquired for her without sending up my name ; 
 she soon made her appearance, knew me instantly, 
 and I was almost petrified. The face, the form, the 
 grace, the manner, the language, the mark, the voice, 
 the dress — nothing— nothing — is wanting ! 1 ! The 
 shock fell upon me with a tenfold severity, because I 
 had been sure of meeting with a counterfeit. Lawyer. 
 And wrote me accordingly, upon which clue all my 
 concerted measures were predicated. — She affected to 
 be happy to see me, told me she could now look me in 
 the face inasmuch as she had reformed, and that she 
 required nothing more at your hands than a handsome 
 annuity, or twenty thousand dollars in lieu thereof. 
 Hitherto I had not spoken a word : when I was re- 
 quired to acknowledge her, which she now did, in 
 presence of witnesses, I was prudent enough to be 
 cautious overmuch, declined having any thing to say 
 in so delicate an affair, and even intimated, that in 
 spite of favourable appearances, I yet entertained 
 doubts on the subject. She took the hint, and enqui- 
 red, wherefore ? Because you did not apply for relief 
 directly to Dr. Bloomfield : the law carries along with 
 it no terrors for him whose character stands so very 
 high and fair in this community. Perhaps I ought to 
 have done so, but I had behaved in so horrid a manner 
 to him, that I had not the audacity to venture upon 
 that step. Why did not you apprise him you were in 
 
180 
 
 existence before he married again ? Because I did not 
 quit my evil courses until lately, and he never should 
 have heard from me if I had proceeded to travel on the 
 high road to destruction. I was almost tempted to 
 wish that she had continued her journey. Well, well, 
 " the least said is the soonest mended." The doctor 
 shall see you, and if he is satisfied that there is no de- 
 ception, the amount you require shall not be want- 
 ing. 
 
 I next repaired to Sophia, for the marvellous tale 
 has already taken wind, and I chose to be before-hand 
 with the thousand tongues of rumour. I broke the 
 matter to her with all the art I was master of, and en- 
 couraged her to hope that all might yet end well, but 
 in vain. She is inconsolable ; her marriage with you 
 null and void, and her child illegitimate. Heart- 
 breaking reflections ! And this was the business of 
 treble importance which prevented my accompanying 
 you hither : I had hoped to have joined you fraught 
 with good, instead of evil, tidings. — My agonized feel- 
 ings were momentarily subdued by a fervid sense of 
 boundless gratitude to this paragon of friendship. 
 Will you never have done heaping favours upon me ? 
 If you call this — a favour — or any other acts emana- 
 ting from my love for you — Never — until this heart 
 shall cease to beat — And Donald's soul shall wing its 
 flight, he humbly trusts, to realms of bliss ! 
 
 But we are losing time. — You must visit this wo- 
 man before you return to Sophia. Lawyer. By all 
 means do so. — Had I not better call, and take up Ma- 
 ria's father, mother, and brother ? Lawyer. .Well re- 
 membered : it is all important that they take a look at 
 her. Maria's family had not yet heard the news of 
 the day. Another tax was imposed upon McDonald's 
 active friendship, and another family rendered misera- 
 ble. But the old lady was endowed with more cou- 
 rage than either her husband or son, and, forgetful of 
 herself, strove to hearten me up. If it is Maria, son 
 Bloomfield, I shall know her instantly.— I have only 
 to put on my best spectacles, and then my old eyes 
 cannot deceive me : in the mean time, I will unhesita- 
 tingly wager my oldest and most valuable diamond 
 ring, against a ftewter platter, that the hussey proves a 
 
181 
 
 cheat. What say you ? Is it a bet ? Done, honoured 
 madam. She spoke thus lightly for my sake, for her 
 heart was heavy at the moment ; and well I knew it 
 from her eyes. 
 
 We were speedily ushered into the presence of the 
 dread object of our solicitude, who threw herself at 
 my mother-in-law's feet, embraced her knees, and sob- 
 bing said, My dearest mother, father, brother, and— 
 doctor Bloomfield — I dare not call you — husband — 
 can you — will you — forgive me ? The old lady fainted, 
 and her husband, son, and son-in-law were unable to 
 render her any assistance, for they were transfixed 
 with wonder, and horror, and grief, the most poignant. 
 The pencil of a Raphael never produced a more strik- 
 ing likeness to any original than she was to Ma- 
 ria her jewellery was the same, and disposed of 
 
 with accuracy. — Even a gown in which I most admired 
 
 to see was worn upon the occasion ! By 
 
 her exertions the lady whom she ycleped mother was 
 speedily restored to sense, and she would then have 
 thrown herself into her arms, when the celestial sound 
 of — « Never — my maternal feelings sunk under the en- 
 dearing recollections which your near resemblance to 
 her, whom I shall ever deplore, brought home to my 
 mind ; but — you are no daughter of mine" — reached 
 my delighted ears. This declaration revived us all, 
 and after a minute examination, the father, brother, 
 and husband of the real Maria, fironounced her an im- 
 postor. The mark made most of all against her, for 
 she certainly appeared to me to be indebted to artifi- 
 cial means for it. At least I gave into this belief, the 
 more readily, perhaps, because I wished it might prove 
 to be the fact. 
 
 " You will not own me, then f We all with one ac- 
 cord replied in the negative. Dr. Bloomfield, you 
 will hear shortly from me through the medium of my 
 lawyer.— I shall pay proper attention to the communi- 
 cation, madam. She curtesied respectfully and left 
 us. 
 
 I felt like a felon who has been reprieved under the 
 gallows. — But Sophia — my really better half — the ado- 
 ring and adored wife of my bosom— she was in soli- 
 
 VOL. I. R 
 
182 
 
 tude at home, and weeping over our fatal marriage. 
 We penetrated into her recess with healing on our 
 wings, and found her — oh heavens ! had I been, for an 
 hour only, the grand seignor, or dey of Algiers, with 
 what savage delight would I have ordered, and wit- 
 nessed, the imfialement of the wretch, who had occasion- 
 ed all this mischief— we found Sophia, evidently dis- 
 ordered in intellect, with her son in her lap, and my 
 Obadiah standing at a little distance, crying as though 
 his little heart was about to break. She did not no- 
 tice our entrance, but continued to speak to Augustus, 
 kissing and embracing him by turns. Ah, my darling 
 —your miserable mother little thought she would 
 ever bring a bastard into the world — a bastard ! then 
 I am an infamous woman. And you, insignificant rep- 
 tile, (to Obadiah) whose smile is more hateful to me 
 than the frowns of half mankind — It is your mother 
 who has done this deed. — She is the serpent who has 
 stung me to death. — Ere she came, there did not live 
 a wife more to be envied. — / had a dear husband, a 
 son, loving parents, one of the best of brothers, friends 
 in abundance, health, a fair fame, was supremely hap- 
 py, and with my reason unimpaired. What am I now ? 
 An isolated being. There's none so humble as to do 
 me homage. There does not live an honest female 
 but will look down upon a creature characterless ! dis- 
 traction ! my guiltless nature cannot — will not endure 
 it — for God knows my sufferings have originated from 
 no fault of mine, either in thought or deed. — Mother, 
 dear mother, do not be angry with me ; I won't be 
 naughty again; kiss me, dear mother. She saluted 
 him tenderly.-Pardon me, sweet innocent — I knew not 
 what I said — soon shall I need your pity — for soon I 
 shall be as irrational as are the beasts of the field. — 
 Now — even now— my senses are departing from me. — 
 My husband — my Obadiah — I could hear no more, 
 but threw myself at her feet — she gave her child to its 
 nurse, and sunk fainting into my arms. She soon re- 
 vived, and I endeavoured to comfort her, by assuran- 
 ces that the woman who was the cause of her woe was 
 not the real Maria, but an impudent impostor ; which 
 was corroborated by her family. It is useless to at- 
 tempt to deceive me. — Col. M' Donald has already sa- 
 
183 
 
 lisfied me upon that head. And must we then part 
 (embracing me), beloved of my soul ? Part ! oh that 
 we had never met. —Husband ! I have no husband- 
 he was already wedded to another — and we knew it 
 not. We imagined that we dwelt together in inno- 
 cency, whilst we were committing a crime for which 
 we now must answer with our lives. His is forfeited 
 to the offended majesty of the laws — and I— the parti- 
 cipator in his guilt— will claim apart of the same cold 
 grave— frantically. — Never will I give birth to ano- 
 ther illegitimate. — She flew into her dressing-room, 
 and locked herself in. 
 
 I despatched a servant in all haste for her parents 
 and brother ; they came, and we held a consultation as 
 to the course to be pursued in order to arrest the pro- 
 gress of her disease, before it became so firmly fixed 
 as to defy a cure. It was but too evident that nothing 
 could be done, so long as she remained impressed 
 with the idea, that Maria was indeed living. Her 
 mother undertook the difficult task of disabusing her r 
 and, knocking at the door, desired admittance. She 
 peremptorily refused it : I have no mother, said the 
 dear disconsolate. I had one once — she was the em- 
 blem of every thing that was excellent and virtuous— 
 and I am a harlot.— Surely you will not own a harlot 
 for your daughter ! Oh that a friendly basilisk would 
 step in to my aid, and look me dead. This was too 
 much— I forced my way into her apartment, and was 
 followed by her father, mother, and brother, tears 
 streaming from their eyes. Tears ! do you weep too, 
 and weep for me ! me — who have disgraced my name 
 and lineage, and done " an act which blurs the very 
 face of modesty !" I am unworthy of such commise- 
 ration. — No, no — scowl at me — trample upon me — 
 cover me with ashes and sackcloth — do any thing, but 
 weep for me— and — I will bless you. Dearest Sophia, 
 be composed, and hearken to your affectionate mother, 
 or you will kill us all outright. The father and mo- 
 ther and brother of your husband's late wife, are ready 
 and willing to swear, that the woman who has set up a 
 claim to him, is not their daughter and sister. — The 
 court will require no more, and the audacious Jezebel 
 will be severely punished for her pains. Be comfort- 
 
184 
 
 ed, my darling. Your husband will have to go to jail 
 in a few hours, and to leave you thus would break his 
 heart. To jail— he has to go to jail then. — Thither 
 will I go too, and like a faithful slave, minister unto all 
 his wants. — But I must have a separate chamber. — 
 Never, no never will I sin again. Honoured madam, 
 it is not in your nature to mock me ; feed me not up 
 with delusive hopes — my brain will not bear it : but 
 tell me all— all. Do you believe that that horrid crea- 
 ture who has driven me to the very brink of madness 
 — do you believe that she is an impostor ? — I have not a 
 doubt of it. The husband, parents, and brother, of 
 Maria, must have known her better than any body else, 
 and their minds are thoroughly made up as to the in- 
 tended imposition. I breathe again : and her return 
 to reason infused new life into us all. My head — my 
 head ! oh bow my head aches me ! — Suffer me to take 
 some blood from you, my love. — She assented, and the 
 happiest effects had resulted from the operation, when 
 the sheriff was announced. She screamed out, H he 
 has come to carry you to jail" — was all over in a tre- 
 mor, hv.i eyes sparkled like ten thousand diamonds, and 
 I was in dread of another paroxysm ; but this indis- 
 pensable executioner of the laws was my intimate 
 friend, a gentleman who carried in his bosom, a heart 
 u open as day to melting sympathy ;" had his cue from 
 my lawyer, was a wag withal, and his drollery lulled 
 the storm which was again about to overwhelm my 
 soul's dearest treasure. Positively, Bloomfield, you 
 must be a monstrous favourite with the ladies, a mon- 
 strous favourite indeed, when even the grave lacks pow 
 «r to separate a wife from you. Had she only been a 
 good one, this miraculous resuscitation would not have 
 excited quite as much surprise. I am exceedingly 
 grateful that my bad penny has not found her way 
 back to earth again, for I was more miserable than 
 ever Socrates was, whilst she sojourned upon it, and 
 ought to have called me lord and master.' This, how- 
 ever, is an avaricious ghost, and wishes to make use of 
 you as a substitute for the philosopher's stone. Now 
 what occasion her ladyship can have for money, in the 
 other world, is an impenetrable mystery to me. Yet, 
 so it is ; no sooner was she informed by the attorney- 
 
185 
 
 general, that she could not sue you for damages, than 
 she became eager to return from whence she came ; 
 and withdraw the prosecution altogether. It was your 
 pocket, not ydur life that she had a design upon. So- 
 fihia (hastily), Has she desisted from proceeding 
 against Dr. Bloomfield ? — The attorney-general would 
 not suffer it. How very, very cruel. You will say, 
 how very, very kind, respected madam, when you 
 know all. Retribution is sweet : for every tear which 
 her wickedness has caused you to shed, she must be 
 made to pay a million. My husband — Dr. Bloomfield 
 I mean, for I dare not call him by that sacred name, 
 until this horrid trial is over, must be incarcerated 
 then ? He is not the first clever fellow who has been 
 imprisoned upon a false accusation, and much I fear 
 he will not be the last. Apropos, I am happy to have 
 met with you (to Maria's father, mother, and brother 
 who had not yet quitted us) ; I have subpoena's for you, 
 and the attorney-general is anxious to obtain your affi- 
 davits before the doctor is committed. Sophia shud=- 
 dered. You will make oath that the prosecutrix is an 
 impostor ?-- We will.— Three to one is odds, for it would 
 be passing strange, if parents, and a brother, did not 
 know their own daughter ', and sister. You had better 
 about it strait. — We will wait upon him immediately. 
 I clearly saw through the good man's drift.— Without 
 these counter-affidavits, and instructions from the pro- 
 per authority, grounded on them, his duty would have 
 required him to confine me in irons. Happily, So- 
 phia was not aware of this additional ignominy to which 
 I was subjected. Maria's family had departed, and we 
 now conversed on indifferent subjects, the sheriff' tax- 
 ing his capacity to be as witty, and humourous, and jo- 
 cose as possible ; and was so unexpectedly success- 
 ful, as to force a smile from the sorrow-stricken So- 
 phia, several times. I could have worshipped him, 
 for it. He had sat a full hour when one of my ser- 
 vants brought him a packet. I have been expecting 
 this, and took a cursory view of its contents. His 
 countenance lighted up, and he observed, This is as it 
 should be. Will you do my wife the honour to sup 
 and spend the evening with her, madam. I will do 
 myself the pleasure to call, and show yourself and 
 a2 
 
186 
 
 friend Bloomfield the way. We shall be perfectly, en 
 famille, as the party will only consist of your mother, 
 father, brother, and col. M'Donald. My wife appeared 
 pleased with the arrangement, and accepted of the in- 
 vitation ; notwithstanding she suspected that the place 
 
 of rendezvous was a jail ! ! ! In three hours I 
 
 shall be with you again, and this philanthropic sheriff 
 took his leave. 
 
187 
 
 CHAPTER XLIIL 
 
 jYq dad samfile of the Irish jieofile. 
 
 Col. McDonald. LARRY O'Brien. 
 
 Larry. (Entering and bowing) He is here, and 
 very much at your honour's service. 
 
 Col. You have heard of Dr. Bloomfield's misfortune, 
 haven't you ? 
 
 Larry. By St. Patrick and I have heard, that his bad 
 dead wife has come to life again, but belaved it to be 
 all blarney, and botheration agra. 
 
 Col. Whether it be true or false, it has occasioned 
 him a world of trouble, and almost deprived his ex- 
 cellent wife of her reason. If I mistake not, Larry, you 
 are very fond of the doctor? 
 
 Larry. Fond of him ! by the hill of Hoath, and it 
 would be no aisey matter to find out a man, woman, 
 or child who knows him, who does not love him. And 
 as for Larry, he would be an ungrateful baist if he did 
 not adore him, he has always been so very kind to me 
 — and so ginrous, many's the dollar he's chucked into 
 my pouch, and they have stuck there too. 
 
 Col. It would afford you pleasure to assist him, 
 then ? 
 
 Larry. Assist him I upon the word of an Irishman, 
 and that's more worth than ten of his bonds, I would 
 do more for him than any man living, your honour and 
 the pretty girls excepted. 
 
 Col. I think it probable that if you exert yourself, 
 you may cancel every obligation you are under to 
 him. 
 
 Larry, By the blessed virgin, and that's no fool of an 
 oath for a catholic, / would not cancel one of thern^ 
 unless my dear, dear country was to gain her liberty 
 by it. I will die in his debt— but only tell me what 
 is to be done, for his benefit — only tell me— and if it 
 is in poor Larry's power to do it— say no more— it 
 shall be done. 
 
188 
 
 Col. Well then — a little bird whispered to me the 
 other day, that you were intimate at Mr. Robertson's 
 servant's hall. 
 
 Larry. Sure your honour's jesting — I do go there 
 sometimes — sometimes (hesitating). 
 
 Col. And are very sweet on a fair damsel who at 
 tends in the house, named — 
 
 Larry. Don't mention it your honour — don't men- 
 tion it. 
 
 Col. -Judy O'Flanagan — 
 
 Larry. By the hokay, and the murder's out. (aside.) 
 Your worship can't be after thinking old O'Brien such 
 a fool as to be going a courting at this time of day. 
 Go a courting at sixty ! why these blossoms of the 
 grave, as father M'Shane used to call them (pointing 
 to his gray hairs) ,would frighten the dear young thing 
 into an ague, and make a job for the doctor. 
 
 Col. I have no idea of coming father M'Shane 
 over you, and making you confess, Larry. It is suffi- 
 cient for my purpose that you visit there. 
 
 Larry. And is that all — Faith then, and I does 
 visit there — had a fine game of romps with the swate 
 ones last nighty and would have not the smallest ob- 
 jection to play a tune upon the same old fiddle to- 
 night — not the smallest in life. 
 
 Col. I do wish you to go there to night, Larry, and 
 endeavour to execute an important commission — you 
 must postpone playing the boy, until your friend Dr. 
 Bloomfield is a free man once more. By this time 
 he is in jail — perhaps ironed down, as a common felon. 
 
 Larry. In jail — ironed — by the mother that bore 
 me, heaven rest her soul, for she died one day about 
 forty years ago, I shall be as sarious as all methodist 
 parsons in the world, and a few over. 
 
 Col. Attend to me, then. 
 
 Larry. I am all ears, your honour. 
 
 CoL The woman, who says she is Mrs. Bloomjield, 
 boards at Mrs. Robertson's. 
 
 Larry. Yes, and has as delicate a tid bit of a ser- 
 vant maid as you would desire to sit eyes upon of a 
 summer's day. 
 
 Col. Indeed ! and you are acquainted with her 
 perhaps. 
 
189 
 
 Larry. And with her lips too, as far as a dozen 
 smacks will go. 
 
 Col. My business is half accomplished, I find 
 Larry, for it has reference to that identical servant 
 maid. If her mistress is really an impostor, she must 
 have a name of her own, and it is not at all unlikely your 
 " tid bit" is in the secret. Now I wish you to bring 
 all your ingenuity, and palaver, and wheedling, into 
 action, in order to ferret the mystery out. Do this, 
 and your fortune is made. 
 
 Larry. I never dreamt that your honour set me 
 down for a spalpeen before. By the hand of my body, 
 but Larry O'Brien would do a good turn to his bit- 
 terest enemy "without money, and without price;" 
 and, although he was raised upon potatoes and butter- 
 milk, he is not to be bribed to serve a friend. No cor- 
 ruption for Larry — there is too much of that going on 
 in wretched, undone, Erin ! 
 
 Col. I meant not to bribe you, or hurt your feel- 
 ings, my honest fellow. I have been too long ac- 
 quainted with your principles and prejudices, to think 
 of that. There is a strong line of distinction betwixt 
 a (well earned) handsome present, and a bribe, Larry. 
 However, this maid must be corrupted in some shape, 
 or our project fails. 
 
 Larry. By the holy stone, and I'll do with her 
 whatever you may be plaised to order. 
 
 Col. Here then are five hundred dollars. If they 
 are not sufficient to tempt her, return for more. Re- 
 pair to the house as soon as it is dark. 
 
 Larry. That Mr, Postpone is an ugly man, and a 
 bad christian. With your good lave, I'll be off there 
 immediately. Day-time or night time, It's all one to 
 Larry. 
 
 Col. As you choose. Only come round her, and I 
 desire no more. Tell her, that the whole town knows 
 her mistress is not the person she would be taken for, 
 and that there is a very rich and curious gentleman 
 who will pay handsomely to be made acquainted with 
 her real name, merely for his own satisfaction. 
 
 Larry. I will lie faster than a horse can gallop, 
 an't plaise your honour, to sarve the doctor. 
 
190 
 
 Col. Above all don't be sparing of the money — 
 consider it as dirt upon this occasion. 
 
 Larry. I'll buy her for a hundred, and may be for 
 nothing at all, at all. Lave O'Brien alone to pump a 
 pitticoat. I'm off — and when next you clap your good- 
 looking daylight upon my ill-looking face, if I don't 
 tell you the whole story of the matter, I'll deny my 
 country, and worship her very worst enemies — the 
 majority of the British parliament. 
 
191 
 
 CHAPTER XLIV. 
 
 Richard searches for the bottom of a river, and finds it. 
 
 STEADY had been peculiarly unfortunate with his 
 children. Of ten, he only raised one, and that one 
 was a daughter; as amiable and well educated, as she 
 was fair. Richard loved her — tenderly loved her. In 
 truth she was his first and only love. But — inexperi* 
 enced youth ! unlessoned love ! he never thought that 
 a corresponding feeling animated her bosom. She 
 conducted, to the other young men who visited at her 
 father's, with the frankness characteristic of her sect: 
 to him only, was she distant and reserved. And 
 Richard imbibed a not to be eradicated impression, 
 that she hated him. Not so her lynx-eyed mother, who 
 knew human nature, and pretty girls better. She 
 required no extrinsic aid in order to point out to her, 
 the state of her child's heart; and the match would 
 have been highly agreeable to all parties, before the 
 youth turned gentleman. Ruth was not so very far 
 gone in love, as to avail herself of the leap year's pri- 
 vilege, and his gentility had by this time profited him so 
 much that he was no more thought of, by the old 
 couple, as a son-in-law. Albeit, the first wound in- 
 flicted by Cupid's arrow is generally a serious and 
 lasting one. Ruth and Richard, still sighed in secret, 
 for each other. He was now utterly ruined and un- 
 done, and the constant maid felt that he was dearer to 
 her than ever, from that very circumstance. 
 
 Richard's misfortune did not remain a secret many 
 hours, for ill news travels apace, and Steady and 
 Trueman were not among the last to hear of it It did 
 not surprise them, inasmuch as they had anticipated 
 it from the first, but it grieved them sorely Mean- 
 time the plucked pidgeon continued, a tenant at will, 
 to the friend to whom his moveables were forfeited, 
 for an entire ten days — an effort of generosity unpa- 
 ralleled in a gamester ; but the set were as invisible, in 
 
192 
 
 the interim, as the invisible lady or man. No more 
 sociable morning and evening calls, or inquiries after 
 his precious health ! ! Neither did he quit his pre- 
 mises, but confined himself to his chamber wherein 
 he sat, silent and sullen, brooding over his misfor- 
 tunes, and thinking of — Ruth ! ! ! 
 
 The eleventh morning came, and an eventful one 
 it was, for it brought in its train a person to take an 
 inventory of his late effects, and the means of re- 
 moving them. This was too much to be borne by a 
 man unenured to trouble, and already on the border of 
 insanity. Richard became desperate, rushed into the 
 street, and directed his course to the river, on whose 
 banks the city stood. His uncovered head — disorder- 
 ed dress— rapid strides — frantic actions — and blood- 
 shotten eyes, bespoke a mind but ill at ease, and big 
 with mighty mischief ! a crowd followed in his rear, 
 but no one was thoughtful enough to arrest his pro- 
 gress. He attained the wharf, passed from it to the 
 outmost vessel, for the harbour was crowded with 
 shipping ; precipitated himself L from the stern, and 
 sought a watery grave. 
 
193 
 
 CHAPTER XLV. 
 
 Larry O^Brien demonstrates that he is an able minister 
 filenifiotentiary. 
 
 THE sheriff, with an enthusiasm of friendship sa- 
 vouring of quixotry, had removed with his family into 
 the jail in order to keep me company whilst I remained 
 his prisoner. The depositions of Maria's connexions 
 had outweighed that of a supposed adventurer, and he 
 had beeff instructed to treat me as a debtor. Two 
 of the best apartments had been accordingly allotted 
 me, and* well furnished for my reception. The three 
 hours elapsed—the law officer was punctual to his ap- 
 pointment — we took the children with us — Sophia's 
 family, and his wife received us at the door, and Oba- 
 diah was " incarcerated" 
 
 Sophia was exceedingly shocked on entering the 
 prison, but revived, in some measure, after we were 
 ushered into a commodious and decent sitting room : 
 she had not expected to meet with such an accommo- 
 dation. Col. M'Donald was wanting, but soon joined 
 us, accompanied by his confidential servant, and a 
 young girl, who was unknown to us. He was evident- 
 ly in tip-top spirits, and, after making his bow, intro- 
 duced Mr. Larry O'Brien as a successful minister 
 plenipotentiary — " My dear doctor," said he, running 
 up to me, and shaking me by the hand so lustily as to 
 jeopard my wrist ; " I am prouder nor ever to see you. 
 May I never taste whasky punch again, if I have not 
 found her out " " Found who out ?" a Why the 
 gipsy that clapped your worship in limbo, to be sure. 
 
 She's no more your wife, nor she's mine, but a 
 
 as we call 'em in swate Ireland, saving your prisince, 
 ladies. Her name is Maria — but, by the honour of 
 
 vol. t. S 
 
194 
 
 corporal Ponsonby, who would not give ufi a stolenfi.ro* 
 ker until that small matter was touched ufion, there's a 
 "Leasowes Henderson" comes after it. What? said 
 Sophia's mother, with great emotion. " An't please 
 your ladyship, her majesty's real name is, * Maria 
 Leasovves Henderson.' " — " My own niece !" and 
 fainted away. Sophia was thoroughly roused by this 
 incident — her husband's honour — her own, and her in- 
 fant's, which had been brought into jeopardy, as there 
 was substantial reason to believe, by a near blood rela- 
 tion, the daughter of an unworthy aunt — (a family se- 
 cret which her pride had hitherto concealed from me), 
 and her mother's situation, co-operated ; and the 
 blessed result was her perfect restoration to sanity. 
 She would have flown to her aid, but Larry was be- 
 forehand with us all, and took leave to throw the con- 
 tents of a large pitcher of water into the old lady's 
 face — than which a more effectual application could 
 not have been made by all the medical men in Chris- 
 tendom. A flood of tears ensued, and she wa's herself 
 again, for she was a woman of uncommon nerve, in 
 the general. Leisure was in due season afforded us 
 to question Larry as to the particulars of his mission. 
 " I carried a little money in # my pocket, by way of 
 commission, ladies and gentlemen, set my best leg 
 foremost, came round this pretty lass by trating her 
 with a hundred dollar bill, and then she made me as 
 wise as her own mother's daughter — merely for the 
 love of i' — and if O'Brien has another word to say, twig 
 him with a shillalah until he cries, ub ub a boo, my 
 bones ache." 
 
 The counterfeit Maria's servant was now examin- 
 ed, who exposed such a series of depravity, and 
 barbarity, and lewdness, as, coming from the quar- 
 ter it did, almost defied belief. Nevertheless, the 
 sweet amply compensated for the sour — the cords of 
 kin were rudely, and for ever torn asunder, and the 
 contents of the envenomed chalice, which had been 
 filled to overflowing for the execrable purpose of 
 destroying us all, would speedily be drank up, e'en 
 to the very dregs, by the diabolical preparers of 
 it. Colonel M'Donaid explained to us the singular 
 
195 
 
 use he meant to have made of the girl's testimony. 
 She was promised another hundred dollars, on con- 
 dition she kept her secret from her misiress, and 
 suffered to return home under the escort of Larry. 
 
196 
 
 CHAPTER XLVI. 
 The Trial, 
 
 THE day and hour appointed for my trial arrived, 
 and I was conducted to the court-house on foot by the 
 sheriff, accompanied by my lawyer, and a number of 
 respectable friends. Sophia bore our temporary sepa- 
 ration almost as well as I could wish, for her heart- 
 was at ease as to the issue of my cause. As I entered 
 the court-room, which was thronged, all eyes were fixed 
 upon me, and I was placed in the bar with as uncom- 
 fortable feelings, as though I had really been a felon. 
 The jury was impanneled without my objecting to a 
 juror, the indictment was read, and I pled " not 
 guilty." The prosecutrix had had a very conspicuous 
 mi assigned her, and appeared to be in a terrible tre- 
 pidation) when the clerk of the court, with an audible 
 voice, called for — " Maria Leasowes Henderson. "— - 
 She was taken at an advantage, forgot her lesson, rose 
 up suddenly, and answered " here." M Dear me ! what 
 have I done ? I could bite my tongue off for it" — sat 
 down — wrung her hands, and so deeply lamented her 
 mistake ; that I — even I — felt for, and well nigh pitied 
 her ! Some one in my rear cried out, " that is indeed 
 her name" — and a gentleman, of a prepossessing and 
 dignified appearance, made good his way through the 
 crowd, made his obeisance, and addressed the judge 
 with, u I believe I am not altogether unknown to your 
 honour." — He was immediately, and repectfully recog- 
 nised, and proved to be a New York merchant, of great 
 worth and eminence. " May it please your honour, 
 this is the most infamous, wanton, and unpardonable 
 transaction I ever heard or read of, and I pray you to 
 permit me to volunteer my services as a witness on the 
 part of the much aggrieved defendant. I arrived in 
 this city but an hour ago, immediately heard of this 
 
197 
 
 strange prosecution, and hastened hither for that very 
 purpose. Maria Bloomfield was well known to me, 
 and so is the perjured ' Maria Leasowes Henderson.* M 
 He was promptly served with a subpoena, sworn, and 
 proceeded : " Maria Bloomfield and the prosecutrix, 
 together with several other wretched females, resided 
 at one of our houses of ill fame, kept by the celebrated 
 Mrs. Cole. They appeared to be inseparable — rarely 
 was one seen in the streets without the other, and the 
 wonderful resemblance they bore to each other was a 
 common city talk, until the prisoner's late wife took 
 to drink— in fact, common report did not hesitate to 
 say that they were — half sisters. This woman is the 
 daughter of Mrs. Cole, who saw fit to change her for- 
 mer name." My late wife's father, who was attending 
 the trial, covered his face with his hands, and quit the 
 room. " It is equally notorious, that Maria Bloom- 
 field was turned into the street, after she was aban- 
 doned as incurable by a skilful physician — the b«wd 
 herself dares not deny it." The wretched Henderson 
 fell upon her knees. " Let me return to New-York — 
 only let me return, and I will confess all." Judge, 
 We make no compromise with deliberate perjury. 
 Foreman of jury. " May it please your honour — I take 
 no common pleasure in rising and stating, — that we 
 unanimously acquit the prisoner," — and the court-room 
 rang with the acclamations of the spectators : even 
 the members of the bar laid aside the gravity of of- 
 fice, and participated in it. Released from the charac- 
 ter of a criminal, I made suitable acknowledgments 
 to the judge, the jury, the lawyers, and the audience — 
 but my voluntary witness was no more to be seen — 
 he saw the good work completed and — vanished, 
 And — colonel M'Donald had also disappeared to com- 
 municate the glad tidings to — Sophia. 
 
 Judge. " The attorney-general will do his duty as 
 it respects the prosecutrix." 
 
 The sheriff was ordered to take charge of her — but 
 her majesty, as Larry christened her, was above (or be- 
 low)* going to jail. She courted an^ instant trial, was 
 indulged in her wish, took my place at the bar, re- 
 fused the aid of the counsel which was allotted her, 
 
 82 
 
193 
 
 pled " guilty ;" and threw herself upon the mercy of 
 
 the court. An E m jury could not have benefited 
 
 her under such circumstances, and her beauteous per- 
 son was loaded with irons, and deposited—- in a dun- 
 geon—until sentence day. 
 
199 
 
 CHAPTER XLVII. 
 
 ■i 
 The Mystery unravelled. 
 
 MEN and women are alone liable for their crimes 
 and misdemeanors.— And yet how often have we wit- 
 nessed innocent and amiable sisters come in for a full 
 share of the shame of a frail one, with whose " falling 
 off," they had no more to do than the man in the 
 moon — provided always nevertheless, as my lawyer 
 would say, there is one there. Nay, more, I have 
 known many as exemplary women as ever existed, 
 who moiled through a life of " single blessedness, 5 * 
 much against the grain perhaps ; without any other 
 cause assigned for their lacking suitors, the beaux 
 being afraid of the breed. When a man marries, he, 
 at least, calculates upon a chaste wife ; salutary cus- 
 tom having made an aversion to antlers become as it 
 were natural to us. 
 
 The first misfortune of Sophia's aunt, who was now 
 degenerated into Mrs. Cole, happened whilst the fami- 
 ly resided in the country ; and no secret has ever been 
 more studiously treasured up. She had attained to the 
 ticklish age of fifteen — a critical age, which imperiously 
 calls for a treble portion of guardianship and precau- 
 tion, on the part of discreet and affectionate parents ; 
 so far as it regards their daughters especially, — an age 
 at which the passions too frequently reign with uncon- 
 trolled dominion — an age at which youth, and inex- 
 perience, too often combine, to wreck the heedless 
 youngster — when she fell desperately in love with her 
 father's footman — a handsome lad of nineteen. She was 
 a lass of too much spirit to suffer " concealment, like a 
 worm in a rose bud, to prey on her damask cheek." It 
 is possible it was leap year — however, be that as it may, 
 a bouncing boy proclaimed her wantonness to her dis- 
 tracted parents. They did not act as many do under 
 a similar bereavement, for I call it a serious one, whew 
 
200 
 
 a virtuous child is exchanged for a . Oh no ; 
 
 they did not discard her, but bribed the fellow to patch 
 up her reputation by marrying her. Tom was now 
 made a gentleman of, so far as money could go, and 
 let me tell you, that money has a marvellous knack at 
 transmuting folks ; but the bond contained one extra 
 condition — himself and his bride must remove from 
 the state., and never return to it. Tom had no man- 
 ner of objection to the arrangement In a strange 
 place, his handsome equipage, and lovely and polished 
 wife, would seal his title to gentility. But mad?m was 
 now made an honest woman of — an abominable phrase 
 and covering for guilt, in too common acceptation ; and 
 she thought it harder than hard, that any terms should 
 be exacted from her, notwithstanding a full (child's) 
 proportion of her father's estate had been paid over to 
 her former paramour Nevertheless, as there was no 
 alternative, she submitted to the decree, hut with a 
 very ill grace ; and never forgave those who issued it. 
 She chose New York city as the place of her resi- 
 dence — her husband and self settled there. — She soon 
 became ashamed of the boor, and quitted him to grace 
 the dwelling of a very opulent gentleman, who main- 
 tained her in great splendour, for a season; and then 
 abandoned her to her fate, without a settlement. She 
 did not cry her eyes out, for that would spoil her beau- 
 ty ; but immediately found another protector, and at 
 length fell into the hands of Maria's father, who was 
 then a bachelor ; to whom she gave a daughter, and 
 had her christened by her maiden name — ** Maria 
 Leasowes Henderson," Her infidelities drove him 
 from her, she assumed the name of " Cole," and took 
 a house for the accommodation of women of her own 
 way of thinking. Her establishment was the most 
 fashionable in the city, and my Maria became one of 
 its inmates, four days after she left Wilmington. Shje 
 had not yet lost all respect for her family, and did not 
 disclose her maiden name in consequence, Such a 
 woman was no mean acquisition to a wretch in her 
 line of business, and the devoted creature soon became 
 a wonderful favourite ; notwithstanding she was un- 
 ceasingly expiessing her astonishment at the great 
 likeness betwixt her, and her own daughter, whorja 
 
201 
 
 she had carefully brought up in the paths of— vice. 
 Still she saw her daughter with a parent's eyes, and 
 consoled herself with the reflection, that she was by 
 far the handsomest of the two. 
 
 For eighteeen months the greatest harmony sub- 
 sisted amongst the parties, when Mrs. Cole accident- 
 ally discovered that * Maria Bloomfield," was her 
 Maria's half sister; and from that moment resolved to 
 satiate her vehement hatred of the father, by destroy- 
 ing his legitimate daughter. Her unsuspecting vic- 
 tim was inveigled to drink, acquired a relish for it, 
 shortly descended to the level of a brute, got into her 
 debt, was stripped of her valuables, overtaken by dis- 
 ease, and inhumanly turned into the street, in a dying 
 condition. Maria Leasowes Henderson's person was 
 decorated with the ill-gotten jewellery and dresses, the 
 dreadful denouement was never dreamt of, and they 
 thought — " all was well." 
 
 " All is well that ends well," according to the pro- 
 verb, and it might have been exemplified in this in- 
 stance, an hereafter excepted ; if mother Cole had not 
 learnt, a year after the event took place, that Dr. 
 Bloomfield had married her niece. She had travelled 
 over one crime with impunity, as she supposed — why 
 not perpetrate a second, shipwreck her brother and 
 niece's peace, and be revenged upon them for the for- 
 mer's unnatural conduct to her. Her brother had 
 dared to disown her, had held no converse with her — 
 had refused to her every thing but pecuniary aid ; and 
 that, as she well knew, he would not have withheld 
 from the vilest lodger in her house. Mrs. Cole had never 
 been a sensible woman. When a girl, music and 
 dancing, and other external accomplishments, had 
 been deemed by her of a thousand times more impor- 
 tance than the cultivation of her mind ; and when she 
 married the footman,, she was little more than a beau- 
 tiful ideot, who dressed with great taste, danced cor- 
 rectly and gracefully, and who sung, and played upon 
 the piano — indifferently well ! ! ! Mrs. Cole was very 
 avaricious withal — had set her heart upon laying up a 
 portion for her deserving daughter. — Dr. Bloomfield 
 was very rich — his late wife had died under very sus- 
 picious circumstances — was known to her brother, and 
 
202 
 
 himself, by a remarkable mark only^ and " Maria, 
 Leasovves Henderson" was the very picture of her. 
 A double harvest might be reaped from a well-man- 
 aged imposture — a considerable sum as " hush money" 
 —and vengeance. The bawd had acquired no small 
 share of cunning by the exercise of her function, and 
 it was all brought into requisition, to forward her views 
 in the undertaking. A French chemist was consult- 
 ed, and undertook to furnish Miss Maria with the in- 
 dispensable mark, warranting it never to wear out ; 
 for a moderate compensation. He was employed, and 
 succeeded to admiration, from the description which 
 had been given him. The eager instrument of a 
 mother's treachery was instructed to lay aside 
 her frivolity, affect the penitent — be modest, and yet 
 dignified in her demeanor, and success was certain. 
 For she was endowed by nature with a superior capa- 
 city, and this had been expanded by an excellent 
 education. Albeit she had never read a page of 
 Blackstone, she well knew, that a second marriage was 
 invalid, as long as the first wife was alive ; be her 
 character what it might : Sophia was to be separated 
 from the man of her heart, her child declared spurious, 
 and / was to purchase a release from her, for the 
 trifling sum of twenty thousand dollars ! all this looked 
 " mighty firetty" in theory, and was soon to be re- 
 duced to practice. 
 
 When matters were deemed sufficiently matured, 
 miss " Maria Leasowes Henderson" hied to the city 
 wherein I resided, and her first step was, to secretly 
 make herself well acquainted with the persons of all 
 those, upon whom the innocent hoax had any bearing 
 — not omitting col. M'Donald; of whom, and our 
 great intimacy, her half sister had repeatedly spoken, 
 after she ceased to be herself. Our young adventurer 
 now imagined that every difficulty was surmounted ; 
 and the lawyer was resorted to, in order to intimidate 
 me into a compliance with her reasonable demands. My 
 twenty thousand was to be pocketed, and a renuncia- 
 tion of all her right and title to me was to be published 
 in all the news fiapers, as a gratification to her uncle) 
 her cousin^ and family HI 
 
203 
 
 Such were the great outlines of thhnew speculation, 
 and the hafifiy effect was, incarceration — irons— ai m 
 anticipation of the sentence, to be passed upoi n« of 
 the planners of it, on hang-man's day ; injfi- ting tor- 
 tures which firobably outran the reality which was to 
 follow. 
 
204 
 
 CHAPTER XLVIII. 
 
 " Good unexpected, evil unforseen, 
 Appears by turns, as fortune shifts the scene : 
 Some raised aloft come tumbling down amain f 
 And fall so hard, they bound and rise again." 
 
 IT was abruptly reported to Messrs. Trueman and 
 Steady, at the very moment when, after due reflection, 
 they had determined to obliterate all his follies with a 
 
 sponge ; that Richard had drowned himself! ! ! 
 
 Steady thought of his daughter, Trueman of the lost 
 boy, his friend and his family, and, with streaming eyes, 
 both ran to the wharf, opposite to which the cowardly 
 act was said to have been perpetrated ; exclaiming al- 
 ternately, as they journeyed along — w He was a good 
 lad — He was a good lad !" To see two such men run- 
 ning, and weeping, was sufficient to excite admiration ; 
 and they did not want for inquisitive attendants — Not 
 that Messrs. Trueman and Steady could not run as 
 well as most men of their age, when occasion required 
 it ; and feel as sensibly for others' woe ; but they were 
 such very, very steady men, that the gaping populace 
 were sure something very, very extraordinary had 
 happened. And something very unexpected and ex- 
 traordinary had hafifiened indeed ; for they found 
 Richard M alive ; and alive like to be," An honest and 
 courageous sailor had brought him to shore, at the 
 risk of his life, in a state of insensibility, proper means 
 bad been used by some physicians, who chanced to be 
 within call; some gallons of water had been disgorged, 
 and the friends found him contrite, and ashamed of his 
 crime, when they joined him. Steady was so over- 
 joyed to find that Richard was not yet made immortal, 
 that all his gravity and all his prudence forsook him — 
 
205 
 
 he sobbed and laughed over him by turns, kissed and 
 embraced him ; and wound up the whole by saying to 
 him — " Richard* my daughter loves thee." Loves me ! 
 me ! echoed Richard, and fainted away. But animation 
 was not long suspended — He awoke from his trance— 
 and — " my daughter loves thee," still vibrated on his 
 enchanted ear. " Thee must go to my house this in- 
 stant," continued this best of men — M If Ruth hears 
 of thy disaster, it will kill her outright, and then I shall 
 be childless — made so by thee" Richard required no 
 persuasion to obey the warmest dictates of his heart : 
 a conveyance was provided, and on the way Steady 
 observed, " Speak kindly to her, I pray thee, for her 
 whole heart is wrapped up in thee— yea, verily it is. 
 I know thou lovest her not — we cannot force nature — 
 but, speak kindly to her, and thou shalt command my 
 interest, purse, every thing." And the quaker was 
 again unarmed. " Not love her!" responded Richard — 
 " I have adored her from a child, and have all along 
 believed that she hated me." Steady. " Thee dost not 
 say so ?" " The last act of my life, as I supposed it to 
 be, was to put up a fervent prayer for her health, hap- 
 piness, and prosperity. She is the only woman I ever 
 did, or can love." Steady. " I would fain believe thee, 
 albeit" — Richard^ interrupting him, " I will not of- 
 fend your religious a«nd moral ears, honoured sir, with 
 an oath, but you shall see, and if, after a year's proba- 
 tion, you are thoroughly satisfied of my return to recti- 
 tude, the greatest present you can make me will be, 
 your inestimable daughter." Steady. " Well, well — ■ 
 thee hast been very imprudent, and well nigh criminal, 
 but / ivill not believe thee wicked at heart. Thee hast 
 bought experience, and paid thy whole fortune for thy 
 purchase, I trust it will profit thee, and we must for- 
 give, and endeavour to forget all." They reached his 
 residence, and found the family in great consternation. 
 The fatal news had reached them, they had given 
 credence to it. — Steady's good old dame was inconso- 
 lable, Ruth sat motionless, and " looked like Patience 
 on a monument, smiling at Grief 1" even the servants, 
 who were devoted to Richard, participated in their 
 grief for the deplorable calamity. Steady, although 
 vol. i. T 
 
206 
 
 exceedingly moved, took the precaution to conceal the 
 supposed drowned man, enjoined secrecy upon the 
 domestics, sent for his wife, and, after due preparation, 
 communicated the glad tidings of exceeding great joy 
 to her. Richard had not only been rescued from the 
 dangerous element, but was as much in love with their 
 daughter as she was with him. The old lady's knees 
 saluted the carpet, and in that proper posture, she re- 
 turned thanks to the Most High for these blessed dis- 
 pensations of his providence. For, if my friend had not 
 attempted to commit suicide, he would have continued 
 in error, as to the fair object's real sentiments of 
 him ; and, in all probability, both would have been 
 wretched for life ; for their's was no common attach- 
 ment. 
 
 Ruth was now to be apprised of her double good 
 fortune, a delicate task, which was cheerfully under- 
 taken by her enraptured mother. All her reserve and 
 all her distance vanished like morning dew before the 
 glorious orb of day ; and she called for " Richard" in 
 
 accents so sweetly modulated as to rival the music 
 
 of the spheres ! ! ! He was within call, and at her feet 
 
 in a twinkling. 
 
 ******** 
 
 Steady was so wrought upon by the interview, that 
 he thought of nothing but how to make the young peo- 
 ple happy. " Thou hast already taken one oath, Rich- 
 ard, and faithfully kept it. I have been, so far, an in- 
 visible spy upon thy actions, as to be satisfied of that 
 fact. Thou wouldst have been utterly undone else. 
 Wilt thou now abjure gambling ? I trust that was thy 
 greatest fault." " I will." " Upon thy honour? For thou 
 art not of the faithful, and with men of the world, the tie 
 of honour is as binding as an oath." " Upon my most 
 sacred honour, I will never gamble again, in any 
 shape, as long as I live. I should be insane if I did, 
 after what has happened to me." " On this point, thou 
 hast satisfied me. Hast thee any objection to our sect 
 of religion ?" u None whatever. No man living vene- 
 rates the quakers more than I do, and sure.I am, I have 
 manifold reasons for loving v ry many of them." " If 
 thou wert about about to marry a quaker, and it was re- 
 
20? 
 
 quired of thee, to bring up thy female children, if thou 
 hadst any, in the ways of the faithful, wouldst thou 
 withhold thy consent ?" « Certainly not." « My daugh- 
 ter is thine.'' J & 
 
208 
 
 CHAPTER XLIX. 
 
 '« If thou didst but consent 
 
 To this most cruel act, do but despair ,• 
 
 And if thou want'st a cord, the smallest thread 
 
 That ever spider twisted fiom her womb 
 
 Will strangle thee ; a rush will be a beam 
 
 To hang- thee on : or wouldst thou drown thyself, 
 
 Put but a little water in a spoon, 
 
 And it shall be as all the ocean, 
 
 Enough to stifle such a monster up." 
 
 THE ruffled mind of Sophia had been perfectly 
 calmed by the representations of col. M'Donald, as to 
 the termination of the conspiracy ; and she returned 
 home happier, for this singular alloy to our domestic 
 peace, as she confessed to me afterwards, than she had 
 ever been, during the uninterrupted series of matri- 
 monial sunshine in which we had basked, since the 
 man of God made us one. 
 
 I joined her in an hour, being attended, from the 
 COtivt-house to my door, by an immense concourse of 
 my kind fellow-citizens ; as a token of their respect, 
 and joy for my very honourable acquittal. We first 
 returned our most grateful thanks to the author of all 
 good, for having proved a shield and buckler to us, on 
 the late unpleasant occasion ; and then gave a loose to 
 the honest and virtuous feelings of our hearts ! Not that 
 we rejoiced at the unparalleled infamy of our persecu- 
 tors, or triumphed in their downfall — an event which 
 had inflicted an indelible disgrace upon our family — 
 O no ! Far nobler feelings predominated in our bo- 
 soms—feelings which emanated from such a just 
 value of self, as could not be censured by the most 
 fastidious. Our hitherto blissful union had been pre- 
 served sacred and inviolable, and our dear child had 
 escaped from the horrors of illegitimacy ! 
 
 It is true, my life had been in no manner of danger — 
 the deceased Maria's conduct had precluded all possi- 
 
209 
 
 bility of that — and it is equally true, that a divorce 
 might have been easily attained, and our matrimonial 
 knot tied over again — but nothing — no, nothing, could 
 have legitimatized our boy ! 
 
 Our friends soon commenced waiting upon us, and 
 we were congratulated from all quarters. The knock- 
 er of Mr. Brooke's Vindex, in his admirable moral 
 work li The Fool of Quality," was scarcely kept 
 more perpetually in motion, than was mine. And we 
 should indeed have had boundless reason to be glad, 
 could we have forgotten that " Mrs. Cole" was So- 
 phia's aunt, and " Maria Leasowes Henderson" her 
 cousin ! 
 
 Our journey to England was again " the order of 
 the day," but we concluded to postpone it until after 
 sentence day, in order to endeavour to obtain from the 
 governor, a mitigation of that one which the judge 
 was bound to pass, upon the perjured culprit. Our 
 passages were taken in a third vessel, as the second 
 could not wait for us ; and we flattered ourselves that 
 no more unexpected casualties would intervene, and 
 put a stop to our progress for this season. 
 
 A petition was drawn up, in behalf of my pretended 
 wife, and the aggrieved persons were the first to sign 
 it, they considering the mother as a hundred times 
 more blameable than the daughter ; and interest was 
 not wanting to procure a respectable number of sub» 
 scribers to it. 
 
 That day, which is so much dreaded by all prison- 
 ers who are not hardened in iniquity, at length rolled 
 round, and " Maria Leasowes Henderson" was brought 
 to the bar to have her fate announced to her. She 
 made a full confession, the substance of which has 
 been already given, and prayed for mercy, on her 
 bended knees : but, it was without the compass of the 
 judge's power to extend it to her. 
 
 After an address, wherein he pointed out to her the 
 enormity of her crime; in all it's bearings, in a most 
 masterly, and at the same time, feeling manner ; he 
 sentenced her 
 
 To be imprisoned for life, at hard labour, in the 
 penitentiary ! 
 
210 
 
 A report of the trial was soon published, and for- 
 warded to her mother by myself, through the medium 
 of an express, accompanied with a letter, informing, that 
 I should forthwith institute a prosecution against her, 
 for her share in the vile transaction. The view, which 
 led to an adoption of this measure, was to intimidate 
 her into flying from New York, and hiding her miser- 
 able head, in some remote place, where she would be 
 without my reach. I felt myself bound to proceed 
 against her, if she did not do so: she was Sophia's 
 aunt, and to that connexion was she indebted for thus 
 much forbearance. But it appears that the disconso- 
 late creature took to her bed as soon as she heard of 
 her daughter's conviction, refused all sustenance, and 
 would probably have famished herself to death, if my 
 communications had not reached her, and determined 
 her on committing immediate suicide. 
 
 She made a will, bequeathing to her misled child 
 the whole of her property, the earnings of guilt, and 
 which amounted to fifteen thousand dollars ; and then 
 consummated her enormous catalogue of crimes, by 
 destroying herself with laudanum! Meantime, our 
 memorial in favour of "Maria," who was now at hard 
 labour, had been transmitted to the proper authority ; 
 and his excellency was graciously pleased to reduce 
 the term of her punishment to five years. 
 
 Our baggage is now embarked, — the vessel is only 
 waiting for a wind. — Yet a little while, and I trust I 
 shall tread on that soil which gave birth to a Sid- 
 ney — a Hampden — a Milton — a Shakspeare, and a 
 Locke ! ! ! 
 
 W 
 
 %% 
 
 *Yn 
 

 
 < v * » » s « V? .^ 
 
 V 
 
 
 \WA«-'y 
 
 
 DOBBSBROS. 
 
 LIBRARY BINDING 
 
 c 
 
 / \ 
 
 OPT ^ ^ c£ *^Va> ^ A^ 
 
 ST. AUGUSTINE ^ - ^El^ • ^> ^ 
 
 v *i^; 
 
 32084 
 
 O