University of Virginia Library

17. CHAPTER XVII.
In which Sheppard Lee relates the passion he conceived for his fair
cousin, and his engagement to elope with her.

My uncle Wilkins, it seems, was not merely ambitious
to get into good society; he was ambitious
to have his daughter married, and, as he said, into
the best family in the land: an object not very difficult
to compass, considering the fortune he intended
to leave her. But my uncle was resolved
her husband should be rich as well as distinguished;
and I discovered the old curmudgeon had an
extreme horror of poverty. Perhaps one of the
strongest reasons for his leaving the country was a
fear he had lest his adorable daughter should be
snapped up by that aforesaid Danny Baker, whom
my cousin had pronounced “one of the truest and
handsomest sweethearts I ever saw;” although I
never saw him at all, nor, indeed, any other extremely
true and handsome sweetheart of the male

gender in all my life; for those that are true are
ugly, and those that are handsome are as uncertain
as politics. I say this was my uncle's fear, and,
indeed, he confessed to me his belief that Pattie
had really a sneaking kindness for the young rustic;
for which reason he was anxious to have her
married as soon as possible.

I may here observe, that if a bachelor is to judge
of the excellence of love by the character of its
vocabulary, he will discover no stirring reason to
lament his insensibility. All the expressions on
the subject go to show that there is something
mean and contemptible in the tender passion, which
men otherwise profess to be the most heavenly of
the passions—as if, indeed, heaven had any thing
to do with any of them. The moment a man begins
to think a woman uncommonly charming, he
is said to cast “a sheep's eye” on her; when he
feels a friendship for her, it becomes “a sneaking
kindness;” and the moment his heart is in a hubbub,
he is “deep in the mire.” From these terms,
and others that might be mentioned, it results as I
have said, namely—that men and women who have
experienced the tender passion, are, notwithstanding
their pretences to the contrary, really ashamed
of it; that a lover is a sheep and a sneaking fellow,
ordained to grovel in the mud at the feet of his
mistress; and, finally, that a bachelor has no good
reason to execrate his stars for keeping him single.

But I had other notions when I was in Mr. I. D.
Dawkins's body.

I was entirely of my uncle's way of thinking, and
proposed to take her myself; to which my uncle
replied, in some perturbation, “None of your jokes
there, Ikey, my boy;” and gave me plainly to understand
that was a thing he would never think of.
Nay, the proposition seemed to him so unpalatable,
that I was compelled to pretend I had made it entirely
in jest; though I demanded, supposing I had
been serious, what objection he could have to me.
“Oh, none in the world,” said he, “except your being
so near of blood; for a cousin-german is almost
the same as a brother.”

I understood the old hunks better than he
thought; he had, somehow or other, found out that
I had spent my fortune, and was therefore, in that
particular, no better off than Mr. Danny Baker. I
saw, too, clearly enough, that he only valued me
as a sort of stepping-stone into society; and that,
having once had all the advantage of me he could,
he would be ready to forget all my benefits. The
curmudgeon! he had found out I had been borrowing
money of his son Sammy, and he was already
longing for the time to come when he might safely
discard me.

I resolved to marry Pattie in spite of him; and
began to cast about for some device by which to
secure her share of his two hundred and ninety
thousand, which it was more than probable he
would withhold, in the event of her marrying against
his will. This device I soon hit upon.

I told him there was, among all my acquaintance,

not above one man whom I could recommend
as a husband for Pattie; for though there were
dozens of genteel young fellows, fortunes were by
no means so plentiful. My friend Tickle, I assured
him, was just the man,—a little gay, to be sure; indeed,
quite dissipated; and, what was worse, an
enemy to matrimony; which was the more extraordinary,
as by marrying he might come at once
into possession of a splendid fortune. And thereupon
I told him that Jack's father, who was a saint
in his way, and a bigot, to reclaim him, had, by will
(for I assured him the poor man was dead), bequeathed
his superb estate to him only upon
condition that he married before the expiration of
five years; failing in which, the whole property,
now in the hands of trustees, would revert to other
persons, with the exception of a shabby annuity of
a thousand a year. The five years, I told my
uncle Wilkins, were now nearly expired, and Jack,
being in some alarm, was already expressing an
inclination to seek a spouse; but she must be a
rich one, otherwise he would never think of her.

This story, which I fabricated for the purpose,
produced a strong effect upon my uncle Wilkins;
and I concluded it by recommending he should
without delay settle half his fortune upon Pattie, by
legal grant of dedi et concessi, as the lawyers call
it, and register the same; in which event, I would
do all I could to bring the marriage about, not
doubting that we should succeed, since Pattie was,
as I averred, just the sort of girl that Tickle liked.

My uncle was rather dumbfounded at the last
proposal, and swore he would do no such thing.
“He was not going,” he said, “to bribe anybody
to take his girl off his hands, not he; she should
have her share when he was dead, and if she married
to his liking, why she should have something
before. I might bring my friend Tickle to see her
if I would, and he would see what he thought of
him.”

My uncle put a bold face upon the matter, but I
perceived he was eager to make the acquaintance
of my friend Tickle, and would be soon brought to
reason. And, indeed, after having seen the intended
son-in-law, and listened some half a dozen times
over to my arguments, he opened his heart so far
as to settle the sum of forty thousand dollars upon
Pattie, which—or rather the yearly interest of that
sum, for the crafty old sly-boots took care to constitute
himself trustee for the girl, and retain the
principal in his own hands—he conditioned to pay
her after her marriage.

I was provoked at his stinginess; but as no better
terms could be had, I thought I might as well
bring the matter to a conclusion, trusting that something
better would turn up after my marriage.

I say my marriage, for I had no thoughts of bestowing
forty thousand dollars, or the interest thereof,
upon my friend Tickle. I made him my confidant
in the matter, and easily prevailed upon him
to assist me in deceiving my uncle Wilkins, by appearing
to Pattie in the light of a wooer. As for

Pattie herself, who, I was persuaded, had fallen in
love with me at first sight, I made her a declaration,
which diverted and delighted her beyond expression;
and revealing to her also my project to secure
her an independence, she agreed to do her
part in the play, pretend a great fancy for Mr.
Tickle, and run away with me, the moment her father
should make her the grant in question.

The grant was made, as I mentioned before;
but by that time I was in a dilemma, having made
an engagement to elope with another lady, who was
in some respects highly attractive, and had fallen
devouringly in love with me. Indeed, I may say,
she made me the first offer, though it was not leap-year;
but her situation excused her, especially as
it was I she made love to. She was, the reader
will be surprised to learn, the daughter of old Skinner,
or Goldfist, the usurer; and she was rather
handsome than otherwise. The engagement was
brought about as will be shown in the next chapter.