Afloat and Ashore (56 page)

"The green fruit of dear Clawbonny is better than the ripe fruit of
those vile New York markets!" exclaimed Lucy, with a fervour so
natural as to forbid any suspicion of acting. "I should prefer a
Clawbonny potatoe, to a New York peach!"

Grace smiled, and, as soon as Lucy's animation had a little subsided,
she
blushed.

"How much better would it be, Miles," my sister resumed, "could you be
induced to think and feel with us, and quit the seas, to come and live
for the rest of your days on the spot where your fathers have so long
lived before you. Would it not, Lucy?"

"Miles will never do
that
," Lucy answered, with emphasis. "Men
are not like us females who love everything we love at all, with our
whole hearts. Men prefer wandering about, and being shipwrecked, and
left on desert islands, to remaining quietly at home, on their own
farms. No, no; you'll never persuade Miles to do
that
."

"I am not astonished my brother thinks desert islands such pleasant
abodes, when he can find companions like Miss Merton on them."

"You will remember, sister of mine, in the first place, that Marble
Land is very far from being a desert island at all; and, in the next,
that I first found Miss Merton in Hyde Park, London; almost in the
canal, for that matter."

"I think it a little odd that Miles never told us all about this, in
his letters, at the time, Lucy. When young gentlemen drag young ladies
out of canals, their friends at home have a right to know something of
the matter."

How much unnecessary misery is inflicted by unmeaning expressions like
this. Grace spoke lightly, and probably without a second thought about
the matter; but the little she said, not only made me thoughtful and
uneasy, but it drove everything like a smile from the usually radiant
countenance of her friend. The conversation dragged; and soon after,
we returned together to the house.

I was much occupied that morning, in riding about the place with
Mr. Hardinge, and in listening to his account of his stewardship, With
the main results I was already acquainted—nay, possessed them in the
Dawn,—but the details had all to be gone over, with the most minute
accuracy. A more simple-minded being there was not on earth than
Mr. Hardinge; and, that my affairs turned out so well was the result
of the prosperous condition of the country at that day, the system my
father had adopted in his life-time, and the good qualities of the
different agents he had chosen, every one of whom remained in the
situation in which he was at the sad moment of the fatal accident at
the mill. Had matters really depended on the knowledge and management
of the most excellent divine, they would soon have been at sixes and
sevens.

"I am no believer in miracles, my dear Miles," observed my guardian,
with amusing self-complacency; "but I do think a change has been
wrought in me, to meet the emergencies of a situation, in which the
interests of two orphans have been so suddenly intrusted to my
guidance and care. God be thanked! everything prospers; your affairs,
as well as those of my dear Grace. It is wonderful, boy, how a man of
my habits has been directed in his purchases of wheat, for instance;
I, who never bought a bushel until the whole responsibility of your
mills fell upon my shoulders I take no credit to myself for it—no
credit to myself!"

"I hope the miller has not been backward, my dear sir, in giving you
all the assistance in his power."

"Morgan?—yes; he is always ready, and you know I never forget to send
him into the market to both buy and sell. Really, his advice has been
so excellent, that to me it has the appearance of being almost
miraculous—prophetic, I should say, were it not improper. We should
avoid all exaggeration in our gratitude, boy."

"Very truly, sir. And in what manner have you managed to get along so
well with the crops, on the place, itself?"

"Favoured by the same great adviser, Miles. It is really wonderful,
the crops we have had; and the judgment that has been so
providentially shown in the management of the fields, as well as of
the mills!"

"Of course, sir, old Hiram (Neb's uncle) has always been ready to give
you his aid?—Hiram has a great deal of judgment, in his way."

"No doubt—no doubt—Hiram and I have done it all, led by a
Providential counsel. Well, my boy, you ought to be satisfied with
your earthly lot; for every thing seems to prosper that belongs to
you. Of course, you will marry, one of these days, and transmit this
place to your son, as it has been received from your fathers?"

"I keep that hope in perspective, sir; or, as we sailors say, for a
sheet-anchor."

"Your hope of salvation, boy, is your sheet-anchor, I trust.
Nevertheless, we are not to be too hard on young men, and must let
them have a little romance in their compositions. Yes, yes; I trust
you will not become so much wedded to your ship, as not to think of
taking a wife, one of these days. It will be a happy hour to me, when
I can see another Mrs. Miles Wallingford at Clawbonny. She will be the
third; for I can remember your grandmother."

"Can you recommend to me a proper person to fill that honourable
station, sir?" said I, smiling to myself, and exceedingly curious to
hear the answer.

"What do you think of this Miss Merton, boy? She is handsome, and that
pleases young men; clever, and that pleases old ones; well-educated,
and that will last, when the beauty is gone; and, so far as I can
judge, amiable; and that is as necessary to a wife, as fidelity.
Marry no woman, Miles, that is not amiable!
"

"May I ask
what
you call amiable, sir?—And, when that question
is answered, I may venture to go so far as to inquire
whom
you
call amiable?"

"Very sensible distinctions, and such as are entitled to fair answers;
at least the first. I do not call levity, amiability; nor mere
constitutional gaiety. Some of the seemingly most light-hearted women
I have ever known, have been anything but amiable. There must be an
unusual absence of selfishness,—a person must live less for herself,
than others—or rather, must find her own happiness in the happiness
of those she loves, to make a truly amiable woman. Heart and
principle are at the bottom of what is truly amiable; though
temperament and disposition undoubtedly contribute. As for the whom,
your own sister Grace is a truly amiable young woman. I never knew her
do anything to hurt another's feelings in my life."

"I suppose you will admit, sir, I cannot very well marry Grace?"

"I wish you could, with all my heart—yes, with all my heart! Were not
you and Grace brother and sister, I should consider myself well quit
of the responsibility of my guardianship, in seeing you man and wife."

"As that is out of the question, I am not without hopes you can
mention another who will do just as well, so far as I am concerned."

"Well, there is this Miss Merton—though I do not know her well enough
to venture absolutely on a recommendation. Now, I told Lucy, no later
than yesterday, while we were on the river, and as you were pointing
out to Miss Merton the forts in the Highlands, that I thought you
would make one of the handsomest couples in the state—and, moreover,
I told her—bless me, how this corn grows! The plants will be in
tassel in a few days, and the crop must turn out most beneficent—truly,
truly—there is a providence in all things; for, at first, I was for
putting the corn on yonder hill-side, and the potatoes here; but old
Hiram was led by some invisible agency to insist on this field for the
corn, and the hill-side for the potatoes—and, now, look, and see what
crops are in promise! Think of a nigger's blundering on such a thing?"

In 1802, even well-educated and well-intentioned clergymen had no
scruples in saying "nigger."

"But, sir, you have quite forgotten to add what else you told Lucy?"

"True—true—it is very natural that you should prefer hearing me talk
about Miss Merton, to hearing me talk about potatoes—I'll tell
that
to Lucy, too, you may depend on it."

"I sincerely hope you will do no such thing, my dear sir," I cried, in
no little alarm.

"Ah! that betrays guilt—consciousness, I should say; for what guilt
can there be in a virtuous love?—and rely on it, both the girls shall
know all about it. Lucy and I often talk over your matters, Miles; for
she loves you as well as your own sister. Ah! my fine fellow, you
blush at it, like a girl of sixteen! But, there is nothing to be
ashamed of, and there is no occasion for blushes."

"Well, sir, letting my blushes—the blushes of a shipmaster!—but
setting aside my blushes, for mercy's sake
what more
did you
tell Lucy?"

"What more? Why I told her how you had been on a desert island, quite
alone as one might say, with Miss Merton, and how you had been at sea,
living in the same cabin as it were, for nine months; and it would be
wonderful—wonderful, indeed, if two so handsome young persons should
not feel an attachment for each other. Country might make some
difference, to be sure—"

"And station, sir?—What do you think would be the influence of the
difference of station, also?"

"Station!—Bless me, Miles; what difference in station is there
between you and Miss Merton; that it should cause any obstacle to your
union?"

"You know what it is, sir, as well as I do myself. She is the daughter
of an officer in the British army, and I am the master of a ship. You
will admit, I presume, Mr. Hardinge, that there is such, a thing as a
difference in station?"

"Beyond all question. It is exceedingly useful to remember it; and I
greatly fear the loose appointments of magistrates and other
functionaries, that are making round the country, will bring all our
notions on such subjects into great confusion. I can understand that
one man is as good as another in
rights
, Miles; but I cannot
understand he is any
better
, because he happens to be
uneducated, ignorant, or a blackguard."

Mr. Hardinge was a sensible man in all such distinctions, though so
simple in connection with other matters.

"You can have no difficulty, however, in understanding that, in New
York, for instance, I should not be considered the equal of Major
Merton—I mean socially, altogether, and not in personal merit, or the
claims which years give—and of course, not the equal of his
daughter?"

"Why—yes—I know what you mean, now. There may be some little
inequality in that sense, perhaps; but Clawbonny, and the ship, and
the money at use, would be very apt to strike a balance."

"I am afraid not, sir. I should have studied law, sir, had I wished to
make myself a gentleman."

"There are lots of vulgar fellows getting into the law, Miles—men who
have not half your claims to be considered gentlemen. I hope you do
not think I wished you and Rupert to study law in order to make
gentlemen of you?"

"No, sir; it was unnecessary to take that step as regards Rupert, who
was fully born in the station. Clergymen have a decided position all
over the world, I believe; and then you are extremely well connected
otherwise, Mr. Hardinge. Rupert has no occasion for such an
assistance—with me it was a little different."

"Miles—Miles—this is a strange fancy to come over a young man in
your situation—and who, I am afraid, has been the subject of envy,
only too often, to Rupert!"

"If the truth were known, Mr. Hardinge, I dare say both Rupert and
Lucy, in their secret hearts, think they possess advantages, in the
way of social station, that do not belong to Grace and myself."

Mr. Hardinge looked hurt, and I was soon sorry that I had made this
speech. Nor would I have the reader imagine that what I had said,
proceeded in the least from that narrow selfish feeling, which, under
the blustering pretension of equality, presumes to deny the existence
of a very potent social fact; but simply from the sensitiveness of
feelings, which, on this subject, were somewhat in danger of becoming
morbid, through the agency of the most powerful passion of the human
heart—or, that which has well been called the master-passion.
Nevertheless, Mr. Hardinge was much too honest a man to deny a truth,
and much too sincere to wish even to prevaricate about it, however
unpleasant it might be to acknowledge it, in all its unpleasant
bearings.

"I now understand you, Miles; and it would be idle to pretend that
there is not some justice in what you say, though I attach very little
importance to it, myself. Rupert is not exactly what I could wish him
to be in all things, and possibly
he
may be coxcomb enough, at
times, to fancy he has this slight advantage over you,—but, as for
Lucy, I'll engage she never thinks of you but as a second brother—
and that she loves you exactly as she loves Rupert."

Mr. Hardinge's simplicity was of proof, and it was idle to think of
making any impression on it. I changed the subject, therefore, and
this was easily enough done, by beginning again to talk about the
potatoes. I was far from being easy, nevertheless; for I could not
avoid seeing that the good divine's restlessness might readily widen
the little breach which had opened between his daughter and myself.

That day, at dinner, I discovered that Grace's winter in town had led
to a sensible melioration of the domestic economy; most especially as
related to the table. My father and mother had introduced some
changes, which rendered the Clawbonny household affairs a little
different from those of most other of the Ulster county families near
our own class; but their innovations, or improvements, or whatever
they might be called, were far from being as decided as those
introduced by their daughter. Nothing, perhaps, sooner denotes the
condition of people, than the habits connected with the table. If
eating and drinking be not done in a certain way, and a way founded in
reason, too, as indeed are nearly all the customs of polished life,
whatever may be the cant of the ultras of reason—but, if eating and
drinking be not done in a certain way, your people of the world
perceive it sooner than almost anything else. There is, also, more of
common sense and innate fitness, in the usages of the table, so long
as they are not dependent on mere caprice, than in almost any other
part of our deportment; for everybody must eat, and most persons
choose to eat decently. I had been a little nervous on the subject of
the Mertons, in connection with the Clawbonny table, I will confess;
and great was my delight when I found the breakfast going off so
well. As for the Major, himself by no means familiar with the higher
classes of his own country, he had that great stamp of a gentleman,
simplicity; and he was altogether above the cockney distinctions of
eating and drinking; those about cheese and malt liquors, and such
vulgar niceties; nor was he a man to care about the silver-forkisms;
but he understood that portion of the finesse of the table which
depended on reason and taste, and was accustomed to observe it. This I
knew from near a twelve month's intercourse, and I had feared we might
turn out to be a little too rustic.