| | 1 | Author: | Caruthers
William Alexander
1802-1846 | Add | | | Title: | The Kentuckian in New-York, Or, the Adventures of Three Southerns  | | | | Published: | 1997 | | | | Subjects: | University of Virginia Library, Modern English collection | UVA-LIB-Text | University of Virginia Library, Early American Fiction, 1789-1875 | UVA-LIB-EarlyAmFict1789-1875 | | | | Description: | Towards the latter part of the summer of 18—,
on one of those cool, delightful, and invigorating
mornings which are frequent in the southern regions
of the United States, there issued from the
principal hotel on the valley-side of Harper's Ferry
two travellers, attended by a venerable and stately
southern slave. The experienced eye of the old
ferryman, as he stood in his flat-bottomed boat
awaiting the arrival of this party, discovered at
once that our travellers were from the far South. “Five long years have we lived under the same
roof, pursued the same studies, or rather the same
studies pursued us;—engaged in the same dissipation,
drank of the same sour wine, shed the same
vinous tears, discussed the same dinners and suppers,
enjoyed the same dances,—stag dances, I
mean,—played the same music, belonged to the
same society, and, I was going to say, fallen in love
with the same nymphs; but that brings me to the
subject of this letter. I am in for it! Yes, you
may well look surprised! It is a fact! Who is
the lady? you ask. I will tell you,—that is, if I can;
her name is St. Clair. O! she is the most lovely,
modest, weeping, melancholy, blue-eyed, fairhaired,
and mysterious little creature you ever
beheld. If you could only see her bend that white
neck, and rest her head upon that small hand, her
eye lost in profound thought, until the lower lid
just overflows, and a tear steals gently down that
most lovely cheek; and then see her start up
stealthily to join again in the conversation, with
the most innocent consciousness of guilt imaginable;
—but what is it that brings these tears to sadden
the heart of one so youthful and so innocent?
`There's the rub,' as Hamlet says. Yourself,
Lamar, and I were unanimous, as you perhaps
remember, that men generally suffer in proportion
to their crimes, even in this world. I here renounce
that opinion, with all others founded upon
college logic. A half-taught college boy, in the
pride of his little learning and stubborn opinions, is
little better than an innocent. But, you ought to
see this fair sufferer in order fully to appreciate
the foregoing opinion. You would see child-like
innocence—intelligence—benevolence; in short,
all that is good, in her sad but lovely countenance. “Thus far I have flown before the wind—sand,
I should have said. At any rate, here I am, in this
town of German religionists. Here dwells the first
unanimous people I have ever seen. They are
Moravians; and every thing is managed by this
little community for the common benefit. They
have one tavern, one store, one doctor, one tanner,
one potter, and so on in every trade or occupation.
Besides these, they have a church, and a
flourishing female seminary. The latter is conducted
upon the utilitarian plan—each lady, in turn,
has to perform the offices of cook, laundress, and
gardener; and, I need hardly say, that it is admirably
conducted. After I had visited all these
establishments — for every respectable looking
stranger is waited upon by some one appointed for
that purpose to conduct him thither,—I returned
to the large, cool, and comfortable inn, and had
scarcely seated myself to enjoy the comforts of
nicotiana, when a small billet was handed to me
by a handsomely dressed and polite black servant
with a glazed hat, which not a little astonished me,
you may be sure. I had not a living acquaintance
in the whole state that I knew of; except, indeed,
old Father Bagby, the master of ceremonies to the
little community. It could not be a challenge
from some Hans Von Puffenburg of these quiet
burghers: so I concluded it must be a billetdoux
from some of the beautiful creatures at the
seminary on the hill. You can easily imagine,
therefore, that I was no long time in tearing it
open; when, behold! it was, in good truth, from a
lady. Can you guess who? No. Then take the
note itself entire. “ `If, as I believe, you are the same Mr. Randolph
who was a room and class-mate of my son
Victor Chevillere, in college, I will be very glad
to see you. The servant will show you to our little
parlour. “ `I am the luckiest dog alive,' said I, jumping
nearly over the negro's head. `Is your young
mistress here also.' “I TOLD you in my last of our surprise at the
little coincidence of the number on the card, and
that on the house where the lady alighted, with
whom Lamar had exchanged some intelligent
glances in her more girlish days; but I did not
complete the relation, which I will do presently. “The day being Sunday, I sent old Cato this
morning to arouse Lamar quite early, in order to
ascertain if he was disposed to walk before breakfast,
and view some of the boasted parks, groves,
and gardens of these hospitable Gothamites. Old
Cato soon returned, saying that Lamar had but
that moment fallen asleep, but that he would be
with me as soon as he could make a hasty toilet;
hasty it indeed was, for he was not many minutes
behind Cato, in his morning-gown and slippers,
yawning and stretching his clenched fists through
the room as if he had sat in his chair all night. “10 o'clock P. M. “Events which seem to me worth recording,
crowd upon us so fast now, that it is almost impossible
to give you, according to promise, even a
profile view of our movements. “I have seen her, Randolph, and seen her far
more captivating and beautiful than ever! | | | Similar Items: | Find |
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