| | 1 | Author: | Cooke
John Esten
1830-1886 | Requires cookie* | | | Title: | The last of the foresters, or, Humors on the border  | | | | Published: | 2003 | | | | Subjects: | University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text | University of Virginia Library, Early American Fiction, 1789-1875 | UVA-LIB-EarlyAmFict1789-1875 | | | | Description: | On a bright October morning, when the last century was
rapidly going down hill, and all old things began to give way to
the new, the sun was shining in upon the breakfast room at
Apple Orchard with a joyous splendor, which, perhaps, he had
never before displayed in tarrying at that domain, or any other. “Since seeing thee, on yester eve, my feelings have greatly
changed in intensity, and I fluctuate beneath an emotion of oblivious
delight. Alas! we young, weak women, try in vain to
obstruct the gurgling of the bosom; for I perceive that even
I am not proof against the arrows of the god Diana. My heart
has thrilled, my dearest friend, ever since you departed, yester eve,
with a devious and intrinsic sensation of voluminous delight.
The feelings cannot be concealed, but must be impressed in words;
or, as the great Milton says, in his Bucoliks, the o'er-fraught
heart would break! Love, my dear Mr. Verty, is contiguons—
you cannot be near the beloved object without catching the
contagion, and to this fact I distribute that flame which now
flickers with intense conflagration in my bosom. Why, cruel
member of the other sex! did you evade the privacy of our
innocent and nocturnal retreat, turning the salubrious and maiden
emotions of my bosom into agonizing delight and repressible
tribulation! Could you not practice upon others the wiles of
your intrinsic charms, and spare the weak Sallianna, whose only
desire was to contemplate the beauties of nature in her calm
retreat, where a small property sufficed for all her mundane necessities?
Alas! but yester morn I was cheerful and invigorating—
with a large criterion of animal spirits, and a bosom which had
never sighed responsible to the flattering vows of beaux. But
now!—ask me not how I feel, in thinking of the person who has
touched my indurate heart. Need I say that the individual in
question has only to demand that heart, to have it detailed to him
in all its infantile simplicity and diurnal self-reliance? Do not—
do not—diffuse it! “Reclining in my apartment this evening, and reflecting upon
the pleasing scenes through which we have passed together—
alas! never to be renewed, since you are not going to return—
those beautiful words of the Swan of Avon occurred to me:
`To be or not to be—that is the question;
Whether 'tis better in this world to bear
The slings and arrows of—'
I don't remember the rest; but the whole of this handsome soliloquy
expresses my sentiments, and the sincerity with which, “I need not say how sorry I am to part with you. We have
seen a great deal of each other, and I trust that our friendship
will continue through after life. The next session will be dull
without you—I do not mean to flatter—as you go away. You
carry with you the sincere friendship and kindest regards of, “You are destined for great things—it is yours to scale the
heights of song, and snatch the crown from Ossa's lofty brow.
Fulfil your destiny, and make your country happy!” “May your course in life be serene and happy; and may your
friends be as numerous and devoted as the flies and mosquitos in
the Eastern Range. “You ask me, my dear Ashley, to give you some advice, and
write down my good wishes, if I have any in your direction. Of
course I have, my dear fellow, and here goes. My advice first,
then, is, never to drink more than three bottles of wine at one
sitting—this is enough; and six bottles is, therefore, according to
the most reliable rules of logic—which I hate—too much. You
might do it if you had my head; but you havn't, and there's an
end of it. Next, if you want to bet at races, ascertain which
horse is the general `favorite,' and as our friend, the ostler, at the
Raleigh says—go agin him. Human nature invariably goes
wrong; and this a wise man will never forget. Next, if you
have the playing mania, never play with anybody but gentlemen.
You will thus have the consolation of reflecting that you have
been ruined in good company, and, in addition, had your pleasure;—blacklegs
ruin a man with a vulgar rapidity which is positively
shocking. Next, my dear boy—though this I need'nt tell
you—never look at Greek after leaving college, or Moral Philosophy,
or Mathematics proper. It interferes with a man's education,
which commences when he has recovered from the disadvantages
of college. Lastly, my dear fellow, never fall in love with any
woman—if you do, you will inevitably repent it. This world
would get on quietly without them—as long as it lasted—and I
need'nt tell you that the Trojan War, and other interesting
events, never would have happened, but for bright, eyes, and sighs,
and that sort of thing. If you are obliged to marry, because you
have an establishment, write the names of your lady acquaintances
on scraps of paper, put them in your hat, and draw one
forth at random. This admirable plan saves a great deal of
trouble, and you will inevitably get a wife who, in all things,
will make you miserable. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
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