| | 1 | Author: | Penfeather
Amabel
pseud | Requires cookie* | | | Title: | Elinor Wyllys, or, The young folk of Longbridge  | | | | 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: | It is to be feared the reader will find fault with this chapter.
But there is no remedy; he must submit quietly to a break
of three years in the narrative: having to choose between
the unities and the probabilities, we greatly preferred holding
to the last. The fault, indeed, of this hiatus, rests entirely
with the young folk of Longbridge, whose fortunes we have
undertaken to follow; had they remained together, we should,
of course, have been faithful to our duty as a chronicler; but
our task was not so easy. In the present state of the world,
people will move about—especially American people; and
making no claim to ubiquity, we were obliged to wait patiently
until time brought the wanderers back again, to the
neighbourhood where we first made their acquaintance.
Shortly after Jane's marriage, the whole party broke up;
Jane and her husband went to New-Orleans, where Tallman
Taylor was established as partner in a commercial house
connected with his father. Hazlehurst passed several years
in Mexico and South-America: an old friend of his father's,
a distinguished political man, received the appointment of
Envoy to Mexico, and offered Harry the post of Secretary
of Legation. Hazlehurst had long felt a strong desire to see
the southern countries of the continent, and was very glad
of so pleasant an arrangement; he left his friend Ellsworth
to practise law alone, and accompanied Mr. Henley, the
Minister, to Mexico; and from thence removed, after a time,
to Brazil. Charlie had been studying his profession in
France and Italy, during the same period. Even Elinor was
absent from home much more than usual; Miss Wyllys had
been out of health for the last year or two; and, on her account,
they passed their summers in travelling, and a winter
in the West-Indies. At length, however, the party met
again on the old ground; and we shall take up the thread of
our narrative, during the summer in which the circle was
re-united. It is to be hoped that this break in the movement
of our tale will be forgiven, when we declare, that the plot
is about to thicken; perplexities, troubles, and misfortunes
are gathering about our Longbridge friends; a piece of intelligence
which will probably cheer the reader's spirits.
We have it on the authority of a philosopher, that there is
something gratifying to human nature in the calamities of
our friends; an axiom which seems true, at least, of all acquaintances
made on paper. “It may appear presumptuous in one unknown to you, to
address you on a subject so important as that which is the
theme of this epistle; but not having the honour of your acquaintance,
I am compelled by dire necessity, and the ardent
feelings of my heart, to pour forth on paper the expression
of the strong admiration with which you have inspired me.
Lovely Miss Wyllys, you are but too well known to me,
although I scarcely dare to hope that your eye has rested for
a moment on the features of your humble adorer. I am a
European, one who has moved in the first circles of his
native land, and after commencing life as a military man,
was compelled by persecution to flee to the hospitable shores
of America. Chequered as my life has been, happy, thrice
happy shall I consider it, if you will but permit me to devote
its remaining years to your service! Without your smiles,
the last days of my career will be more gloomy than all that
have gone before. But I cannot believe you so cruel, so
hard-hearted, as to refuse to admit to your presence, one
connected with several families of the nobility and gentry in
the north of England, merely because the name of Horace
de Vere has been sullied by appearing on the stage. Let
me hope—” “If the new store, being erected on your lot in Market-Street,
between Fourth and Fifth, is not already leased, you
will confer an obligation if you will let us know to whom
we must apply for terms, &c., &c. The location and premises
being suitable, we should be glad to rent. The best
of references can be offered on our part. “When shall we see you at Bloomingdale? You are
quite too cruel, to disappoint us so often; we really do not
deserve such shabby treatment. Here is the month of June,
with its roses, and strawberries, and ten thousand other
sweets, and among them you must positively allow us to hope
for a visit from our very dear friends at Wyllys-Roof. Should
your venerable grandpapa, or my excellent friend, Miss
Wyllys be unhappily detained at home, as you feared, do
not let that be the means of depriving us of your visit. I
need not say that William would be only too happy to drive
you to Bloomingdale, at any time you might choose; but if
that plan, his plan, should frighten your propriety, I shall be
proud to take charge of you myself. Anne is not only
pining for your visit, but very tired of answering a dozen
times a day, her brother's questions, `When shall we see
Miss Wyllys?'—`Is Miss Wyllys never coming?' “My mother wishes me to thank you myself, for your
last act of goodness to us—but I can never tell you all we
feel on the subject. My dear mother cried with joy all the
evening, after she had received your letter. I am going to
school according to your wish, as soon as mother can spare
me, and I shall study very hard, which will be the best way
of thanking you. The music-master says he has no doubt
but I can play well enough to give lessons, if I go on as
well as I have in the last year; I practise regularly every
day. Mother bids me say, that now she feels sure of my
Vol. II. — 5
education for the next three years, one of her heaviest cares
has been taken away: she says too, that although many
friends in the parish have been very good to us, since my
dear father was taken away from us, yet `no act of kindness
has been so important to us, none so cheering to the heart of
the widow and the fatherless, as your generous goodness to
her eldest child;' these are her own words. Mother will
write to you herself to-morrow. I thank you again, dear
Miss Wyllys, for myself, and I remain, very respectfully and
very gratefully, “I have not the honour of being acquainted with you, as
my late father was not married to you when I went to sea,
not long before his death. But I make no doubt that you
will not refuse me my rights, now that I step forward to
demand them, after leaving others to enjoy them for nearly
eighteen years. Things look different to a man near forty,
and to a young chap of twenty; I have been thinking of
claiming my property for some time, but was told by lawyers
that there was too many difficulties in the way, owing partly
to my own fault, partly to the fault of others. As long as I
was a youngster, I didn't care for anything but having my
own way—I snapped my fingers at all the world; but now
I am tired of a sea-faring life, and have had hardships enough
for one man: since there is a handsome property mine, by
right, I am resolved to claim it, through thick and thin. I
have left off the bottle, and intend to do my best to be respectable
for the rest of my days. I make no doubt but we
shall be able to come to some agreement; nor would I object
to a compromise for the past, though my lawyers advise me
to make no such offer. I shall be pleased, Madam, to pay
my respects to you, that we may settle our affairs at a personal
meeting, if it suits you to do so. “I regret that I am compelled by the interests of my client,
William Stanley, Esquire, to address a lady I respect so
highly, upon a subject that must necessarily prove distressing
to her, in many different ways.” “The letters addressed by you to Mrs. Stanley, Mr.
Wyllys and myself, of the date of last Tuesday, have just
reached us. I shall not dwell on the amazement which we
naturally felt in receiving a communication so extraordinary,
which calls upon us to credit the existence of an individual,
whom we have every reason to believe has lain for nearly
eighteen years at the bottom of the deep: it will be sufficient
that I declare, what you are probably already prepared to
hear, that we see no cause for changing our past opinions on
this subject. We believe to-day, as we have believed for
years, that William Stanley was drowned in the wreck of
the Jefferson, during the winter of 181-. We can command
to-day, the same proofs which produced conviction at the
time when this question was first carefully examined. We
have learned no new fact to change the character of these
proofs. “I left home, as everybody knows, because I would have
my own way in everything. It was against my best interests
to be sure, but boys don't think at such times, about
anything but having their own will. I suppose that every
person connected with my deceased father knows, that my
first voyage was made to Russia, in the year 18—, in the ship
Dorothy Beck, Jonas Thomson, Master. I was only fourteen
years old at the time. My father had taken to heart my
going off, and when I came back from Russia he was on the
look-out, wrote to me and sent me money, and as soon as he
heard we were in port he came after me. Well, I went
back with the old gentleman; but we had a quarrel on the
road, and I put about again and went to New Bedford, where
I shipped in a whaler. We were out only eighteen months,
and brought in a full cargo. This time I went home of my
own accord, and I staid a great part of one summer. I did
think some of quitting the seas; but after a while things
didn't work well, and one of my old shipmates coming up
into the country to see me, I went off with him. This time
I shipped in the Thomas Jefferson, for China. This was in
the year 1814, during the last war, when I was about eighteen.
Most people, who know anything about William Stanley,
think that was the last of him, that he never set foot on
American ground again; but they are mistaken, as he himself
will take the pains to show. So far I have told nothing
but what everybody knows, but now I am going to give a
short account of what has happened, since my friends heard
from me. Well; the Jefferson sailed, on her voyage to
China, in October; she was wrecked on the coast of Africa
in December, and it was reported that all hands were lost:
so they were, all but one, and that one was William Stanley.
I was picked up by a Dutchman, the barque William, bound
to Batavia. I kept with the Dutchman for a while, until he
went back to Holland. After I had cut adrift from him, I
fell in with some Americans, and got some old papers; in
one of them I saw my father's second marriage. I knew
the name of the lady he had married, but I had never spoken
to her. The very next day, one of the men I was with, who
came from the same part of the country, told me of my
father's death, and said it was the common talk about the
neighbourhood, that I was disinherited. This made me very
angry; though I wasn't much surprised, after what had
passed. I was looking out for a homeward-bound American,
to go back, and see how matters stood, when one night that
I was drunk, I was carried off by an English officer, who
made out I was a runaway. For five years I was kept in
different English men-of-war, in the East Indies; at the end
of that time I was put on board the Ceres, sloop of war, and
I made out to desert from her at last, and got on board an
American. I then came home; and here, the first man that
I met on shore was Billings, the chap who first persuaded
me to go to sea: he knew all about my father's family, and
told me it was true I was cut off without a cent, and that
Harry Hazlehurst had been adopted by my father. This
made me so mad, that I went straight to New Bedford, and
shipped in the Sally Andrews, for a whaling voyage. Just
before we were to have come home, I exchanged into another
whaler, as second-mate, for a year longer. Then I sailed in
a Havre liner, as foremast hand, for a while. I found out
about this time, that the executors of my father's estate had
been advertising for me shortly after his death, while I was
in the East Indies; and I went to a lawyer in Baltimore,
where I happened to be, and consulted him about claiming
the property; but he wouldn't believe a word I said, because
I was half-drunk at the time, and told me that I should get
in trouble if I didn't keep my mouth shut. Well, I cruized
about for a while longer, when at last I went to Longbridge,
with some shipmates. I had been there often before, as a
lad, and I had some notion of having a talk with Mr. Wyllys,
my father's executor; I went to his house one day, but I
didn't see him. One of my shipmates, who knew something
of my story, and had been a client of Mr. Clapp's, advised
me to consult him. I went to his office, but he sent me off
like the Baltimore lawyer, because he thought I was drunk.
Three years after that I got back to Longbridge again, with
a shipmate; but it did me no good, for I got drinking, and
had a fit of the horrors. That fit sobered me, though, in the
end; it was the worst I had ever had; I should have hanged
myself, and there would have been an end of William
Stanley and his hard rubs, if it hadn't been for the doctor—
I never knew his name, but Mr. Clapp says it was Dr. Van
Horne. After this bad fit, they coaxed me into shipping in a
temperance whaler. While I was in the Pacific, in this ship,
nigh three years, and out of the reach of drink, I had time
to think what a fool I had been all my life, for wasting my
opportunities. I thought there must be some way of getting
back my father's property; Mr. Clapp had said, that if I was
really the man I pretended to be, I must have some papers
to make it out; but if I hadn't any papers, he couldn't help
me, even if I was William Stanley forty times over. It is
true, I couldn't show him any documents that time, for I
didn't have them with me at Longbridge; but I made up
my mind, while I was out on my last voyage, that as soon as
I got home, I would give up drinking, get my papers together,
and set about doing my best to get back my father's
property. We came home last February; I went to work,
I kept sober, got my things together, put money by for a
lawyer's fee, and then went straight to Longbridge again. I
went to Mr. Clapp's office, and first I handed him the money,
and then I gave him my papers. I went to him, because he
had treated me better than any other lawyer, and told me if
I was William Stanley, and could prove it, he could help
me better than any other man, for he knew all about my
father's will. Well, he hadn't expected ever to see me
again; but he heard my story all out this time, read the
documents, and at last believed me, and undertook the case.
The rest is known to the executors and legatee by this time;
and it is to be hoped, that after enjoying my father's estate
for nigh twenty years, they will now make it over to his son. “Our application to the family physician proves entirely
successful, my dear Hazlehurst; my physiological propensities
were not at fault. I had a letter last evening from Dr.
H—, who now lives in Baltimore, and he professes himself
ready to swear to the formation of young Stanley's hands
and feet, which he says resembled those of Mr. Stanley, the
father, and the three children, who died before William S.
grew up. His account agrees entirely with the portrait of
the boy, as it now exists at Wyllys-Roof; the arms and hands
are long, the fingers slender, nails elongated; as you well
know, Mr. Clapp's client is the very reverse of this—his
hands are short and thick, his fingers what, in common parlance,
would be called dumpy. I was struck with the fact
when I first saw him in the street. Now, what stronger
evidence could we have? A slender lad of seventeen may
become a heavy, corpulent man of forty, but to change the
formation of hands, fingers, and nails, is beyond the reach of
even Clapp's cunning. We are much obliged to the artist,
for his accuracy in representing the hands of the boy exactly
as they were. This testimony I look upon as quite conclusive.
As to the Rev. Mr. G—, whose pupil young Stanley
was for several years, we find that he is no longer living;
but I have obtained the names of several of the young man's
companions, who will be able to confirm the fact of his dullness;
several of the professors at the University are also
living, and will no doubt be able to assist us. I have written
a dozen letters on these points, but received no answers as
yet. So far so good; we shall succeed, I trust. Mr. Wyllys
bids you not forget to find out if Clapp has really been at
Greatwood, as we suspected. The ladies send you many
kind and encouraging messages. Josephine, as usual, sympathizes
in all our movements. She says: `Give Mr. Hazlehurst
all sorts of kind greetings from me; anything you
please short of my love, which would not be proper, I suppose.'
I had a charming row on the river last evening, with
the ladies. I never managed a law-suit in such agreeable
quarters before. We are greatly distressed by a
melancholy accident which befell us scarce an hour since.
The Petrel capsized; most of our party are safe; but two
of my friends are gone, Hazlehurst and Hubbard! You
will understand our grief; mine especially! We shall return
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