University of Virginia Library

21. CHAPTER XXI.
FRIENDSHIPS.

Moralists and philosophers have consumed much
time in advancing arguments to prove that disappointments
are not always evils; but perhaps we might not
yield our assent to such self-denying propositions did not
daily experience confirm the theory. Even the annihilation
of our dearest hopes, although fraught with keen
agony at the moment, often proves in the end a precious
blessing, and well worth the price we have been compelled
to pay.

However Sidney might think the loss of Zemira could
never be repaired, yet when he found himself the object
of such unceasing regard, and saw the gratitude he had
awakened in hearts so pure and noble, and now by his
means, rendered so happy, he felt the delightful approbation
of his own heart, the joy which the truly benevolent
only can know, and which seems, more than any other
happiness, to assimilate men to angels and earth to heaven.

The resignation of his beloved had been rewarded by
the acquisition of two friends, and though he did not
dare indulge in any intercourse approaching to intimacy
with Zemira, lest his weak heart might rebel against
Stuart, he indemnified himself for this constraint, by
making him, excepting in some wandering dreams where

his wife was yet concerned, the depositary of all his
secrets and the oracle he consulted on every question.

Charles Stuart was just such a friend as Sidney Romilly
needed; bold, ardent and enterprising, yet with a
mind tempered and disciplined to caution and perseverance
by the lessons of adversity (and more useful precepts
are acquired in her school than ever were in that
of Plato)—learned and accomplished, yet estimating his
talents more by the benefits he might by their exertion
render to his friends and society, than for the consequence
they bestowed on himself. And thus, while his
intelligence rendered him a most agreeable companion,
his integrity made him a perfectly safe one.

In short, he was a man capable of true friendship;
there are but few such. How can a selfish, a frivolous,
or an ignorant mind, be actuated by that disinterestedness
which sacrifices its own wishes when the welfare of
a friend requires? or that steadfastness which remains
unshaken in affection, when the world forsakes or derides
the object of its choice? or that delicate propriety
which seizes the fittest opportunities both to show its
zeal in defending, or its love in advising a friend?

But if to the compact of friendship now subsisting
between these two young men, Stuart brought a mind
the best instructed, Sidney had undoubtedly as generous
and warm a heart; and the knowledge that they were
both natives of the same section of the country, had
also an effect to increase their confidence in each other;
for Sidney had never forgotten he was Yankee born,
although half raised on a southern plantation. The
green hills of New Hampshire still rose on his “mind's
eye;” those frequent eminences swelling into an endless
variety of forms, yet still retaining a character of softened
grandeur, lofty but not inaccessible, and severe
without being savage, they might personify the stern,
steadfast, yet generous race their cultivation had helped
to form.

The natives of a mountainous and sterile region are
more enthusiastically attached to their place of birth,

than those of a monotonous and fertile country. This
attachment is naturally excited, partly by the degree of
labor necessary to subdue a stubborn soil, which, making
attention and care necessary, fosters a deep and exclusive
attachment for the spot where they must be exercised;
and then there are more distinct objects on which the
eye rests at particular seasons and under peculiar circumstances—and
thus conveys impressions to the mind,
hallowing their appearance by connecting them with the
emotions of our hearts or the events of our lives.

The Old Granite State has been often styled the Switzerland
of America. In the vicinity of the White Mountains
this comparison is most appropriate. Other portions
of the State have less of the Alpine grandeur, and the
softer features are more blended with the charm of life.
There are very few dark frowning pinnacles of bleak,
barren rocks;—forest trees climb up the steepest hills,
and leaping brooks shout in their freedom, as they dash
down mountain ravines, wind under the old woods, or
linger in the lap of green meadows, where industry welcomes
their freshness and their song. But the most
beautiful scenery is in the neighborhood of the lakes
and ponds; and hundreds of these, counting all the little
lakelets, are found in New Hampshire. Embosomed
among the green hills, or opening suddenly upon you
by the wayside, as you journey on through the cleared
country, these lakelets lie, blue, bright and clear, like
earnest eyes looking from earth up to heaven in never-ceasing
gratitude that God made all things good!

“The mountains are God's temples,” and calm, sweet
waters are like His mercies.

Sidney, while listening to descriptions, or viewing
delineations of this scenery, which his friend executed
in an elegant manner, would recall with wild rapture
the sweet associations of his childhood, and almost fancy
himself transported to the mountains and lakes, where
he had spent its brightest hours. In spite of the luxuries
surrounding him, and the fortune and flatteries he
commanded, he still cherished the remembrance of his

own dear home, and in reference to New England could
truly exclaim:

Stuart employed the ascendency which his penetration
soon discovered he had obtained over Sidney Romilly,
to lead back the heart and mind of the latter from frivolous
and pernicious pleasures, to the love of study, of
quiet scenes, and calm amusements. Instead of rioting
in the round of gay diversions which had lately appeared
so necessary to his happiness, he now preferred a ramble
with his friend, whose active and enlightened mind gathered
subjects of entertainment and instruction from every
object and appearance of nature. Or if conversation
wearied, he was always supplied with a book, which
would charm while it enlightened.

Thus gently, and almost imperceptibly, Stuart was
loosening the chains which fashion had twined around
our hero, and restoring him to the freedom of that
rational enjoyment which his soul was formed to appreciate,
but for which the Circean cup of luxury had nearly
destroyed his relish.

The gay companions of Sidney were loud in their
complaints of his abandonment, and tried all their wiles
to lure him back to their society. They were his friends,
they said, his old and tried friends, who would stand by
him in all weathers, and now he was leaving them for
the acquaintance of a day.

But when Sidney had once escaped from their atmosphere,
he saw objects and motives through a very different
medium from what he had while breathing the contaminated
air of licentiousness. He could now discover
the selfishness or thoughtlessness that dictated their lavish
expressions of attachment. He saw they wished to
indulge their appetites at his expense, or justify their
follies by his example, and that their friendship, like the
favor of the flatterers of Timon, would last no longer

than did his means to gratify their whims and extravagancies.

“I am convinced,” said Sidney to Stuart as they were
about to separate, “I am convinced of the superior happiness
of a life of usefulness over one of mere amusement.
I was, in early life, educated to love study and activity;
but the tempter came and would certainly have prevailed
had not your advice and example again roused me to
energy. Still continue my Mentor till I have acquired
sufficient hardihood to face this formidable world with its
host of enchantments, and when I note down my benefactors
your name shall stand in conspicuous characters.”

“And how shall I sufficiently honor yours?” returned
Stuart, grasping his hand: “to you I owe my felicity—
my Zemira!”

It was an allusion seldom made, for both felt the danger
of awakening recollections which might lead to a
discussion of past events.

There was a moment's silence. Sidney drew his other
hand across his eyes.

“You have,” said he, “sufficiently honored mine already,
by thinking favorably of its bearer, although you
have learned the weakness of his heart and the inconsistencies
of his conduct.”

“Friend of my soul!” exclaimed Stuart, “you have
the best, the kindest of human hearts. It is only the
excess of its generosity, of its goodness, I fear. There
are so many insidious minds, watching like serpents
every opportunity to twine themselves around the unwary,
that a little precaution—suspicion, perhaps, would
better define my meaning—is absolutely necessary, if we
would escape being allured by their fascination and destroyed
by their venom. This precaution is all you need;
and could I, at the hazard of my life, impart it to you,
it should be yours. But no man can grow wise by
another's experience; it is only by exercising our own
sagacity and discretion we can discover and avoid the
subtle and powerful temptations which beset youth and
fortune. Would you, my dear Sidney, be as true to

your own feelings and reason as you are to your friends,
I should have nothing to fear from you, nothing to wish
for myself.”

The earnestness with which he spoke penetrated the
heart of Sidney. His eyes sparkled with the proud consciousness
of determined resolution. “You shall not,”
said he, “from henceforth have cause to blush for me.
I have always loved the right;—your example will embolden
me to practice it.”

After Mr. Stuart's departure, Sidney lived a very retired,
and, to confess the truth, a very dull life. His
mind and will had been so long undisciplined, that to
refrain thus at once and entirely from the contemplation
or the wish to pursue pleasure was impossible, and the
attempt frequently threw him into the horrors.

However, he persevered in the course of reading and
amusements his friend had recommended; and although
he sometimes sighed to think so much circumspection
was necessary, he was gradually acquiring habits of study
and reflection, which, by unfolding new and noble sources
of enjoyment, contributed to fix his heart more firmly in
the resolutions he had formed to follow wisdom. A letter
from Stuart came very opportunely to confirm his good
intentions, and for that reason it shall be inserted.

This letter was soon answered and a constant and confidential
correspondence maintained through the summer;
but the letters being very long their entire insertion would
make this work too voluminous, and might not be sufficiently
interesting to tempt the reader to such a frequent
perusal as the friends alternately bestowed on each other's
epistles, and such as they would still think they merited.
However, in the autumn an incident occurred to Sidney
which drew from him a letter necessary to be made public.

Many letters attesting to the excellencies of the Englishman,
were written by Sidney during the winter; some
extracts from one of the number may be sufficient for
our purpose.

Agreeably to the intention expressed in the foregoing
letter, Frankford and Sidney set off on their tour, and
after alternately admiring the works of nature, and censuring
those of art, the Englishman always indemnifying
himself for his encomiums on the former by his severe
strictures on the latter, they arrived at Saratoga, the Bath
of America, and sipped the far-famed Congress waters
with many a delicate nymph and dashing dandy, both
equally wishing it might prove a Lethean draught—to
her of her faithless lovers, to him of his faithful creditors.
Our travelers prolonged their stay rather beyond their
intention, Frankford wishing to explore the country in
the vicinity of Fort George and the works of Ticonderoga,
as it was there one of his great uncles had fallen, in the
same engagement which terminated the career of the
young and gallant Howe. The picturesque shores of
Lake George and its limpid waters, drew many an epithet
of admiration from the Englishman, and even the dilapidated
fortifications excited considerable interest, as he
remarked they exhibited proofs that there had once been

a martial spirit in the country which otherwise he should
never have suspected.

After visiting the Falls of Niagara, and wondering,
and rhyming, and repeating what hundreds have before
repeated, they proceeded to Montreal, Sidney accompanying
his friend thus far, and then intending to return to
Saratoga, and bend his course to New Hampshire; but
he was prevented by the illness of Mr. Frankford. The
very next morning after they reached Montreal, he was
violently attacked with a fever, the consequence of a cold
caught by passing beneath the cataract at the falls; and,
increased by his impatience, the fever, which was a slow
typhus, soon raged to such a degree, his life was despaired
of. For three weeks he was insensible, and during the
whole time Sidney nursed him with all the watchfulness
and tenderness of a brother; and, assisted by the landlady,
a kind-hearted creature from the “States,” he had
at length had the unspeakable pleasure of hearing his
friend pronounced convalescent.

The English residents in Montreal paid but little attention
to their countryman; perhaps the house where
he had taken lodgings might make him appear a renegade
from their principles, as it was one always frequented by
travelers from the “Union;” but whatever were their
reasons, they neglected him, and their apparent indifference
stung the proud and sensitive mind of the Englishman
to the quick. There is no season when kindness or
cruelty makes so deep an impression on the hearts of
men, as that which is offered or inflicted in the hour of
sickness; and Frankford, when reflecting on their conduct,
and comparing it with that of the Americans, acknowledged
that the virtues of benevolence and sympathy
were not exclusively English.

It was three months before he was sufficiently recovered
to travel; the lateness of the season and his own
debility made a journey to Quebec hazardous, while
advices from England rendered his return necessary.
Abandoning, therefore, his intention of journeying northward,
he concluded to repair to Boston and take passage

from thence to London or Liverpool, and yielding to the
urgent solicitations of Sidney, he agreed to accompany
him to Northwood and see him restored to his friends.

Sidney had not apprised his parents of his intended
visit, as he wished for the zest which a surprise would
give their affection; and after his journey was so long
delayed by the illness of Frankford, he rejoiced at his
own forbearance, for he was sensible his mother would
have been greatly alarmed by the delay. Thus they
had arrived unexpectedly, and yet how welcome!

O, give me the welcome that waits the unexpected yet
ardently wished friend! The loved countenance suddenly
lit up with the surprise of wild delight—the agitation
of unrestrained affection—the abrupt exclamation
—the half uttered ejaculation, bursting warm from the
soul to thank heaven for your safe arrival,—ah, these are
dear pleasures, and such as the proud and mighty, who
travel in state and send forward their couriers to announce
their approach, never know!

And now we must return to Northwood.