 | MY COUSIN LUCY
AND THE VILLAGE TEACHER. The soldier's bride and other tales |  |
MY COUSIN LUCY
AND THE VILLAGE TEACHER.
It has been well said, that memory never loses
an impression that has once been made upon it.
The lines may be obscured for a time, as an inscription
is defaced by rust, but they are never
obliterated; they may be buried under a crowd of
other recollections, but there are times when these
roll away, as the mist rises from the valley, and the
whole picture stands disclosed, in its original integrity.
Impressions made in childhood are the most
vivid: years may pass, and other remembrances be
gathered in, but those that lie deepest are longest
retained, and most fondly cherished. Other events
touch the heart and pass off without leaving a trace,
but these strike in, engraft themselves, and become
a part of our nature. Such, at least, has been my
experience. I have lived a busy, and I trust not an
useless life; I have seen much of the world; my
feelings and passions have been excited, and my attention
powerfully fixed, by events of deep interest;
but none stand recorded in the same bold, indelible
of my childhood.
Not far from my father's residence there was a
schoolhouse. It was a small log building, such as
we often see in new countries, and stood in a grove,
on an eminence near the road. Whether chance,
or taste, or convenience dictated the choice of the
spot, I cannot tell; but it always struck me as being
not only well adapted to its purpose, but remarkably
picturesque. The grove contained not
more than an acre or two of ground, but the trees
were large spreading oaks that I have seldom seen
surpassed in size or beauty; for every observer of
nature will agree with me, that trees, even of the
same species, differ in appearance as widely as
human beings. In every grove the vegetation has
some distinguishing characteristic, just as all the inhabitants
of a village have some trait in common.
The trees are stinted or luxuriant, spreading or tall,
majestic or beautiful; or else they are vulgar, common-place
trees, as devoid of interest as the unmeaning
people whom we meet with every day. I
never see a great oak standing by the road side,
without observing its peculiarities. Some are round
and portly, some tall and spindling; some aspire,
and others grovel; one has a gracefully rounded
outline, and another a rugged, irregular shape. Here
you may behold one waving its head with a courtly
bend, and there you may see another tossing its great
arms up and down like some angular, long limbed,
their accidents, and their adventures. They are
torn by the wind, shattered by the lightning, and
nipped by the frost; and while some of them have
in their youth the aspect of sallow and dyspeptic
invalids, others flourish in a green old age; and
whether standing singly in the field, or crowded together
in the forest, whether embraced by ivy,
clothed with moss, or hung with mistletoe, they always
attract attention, by the peculiarities which
they derive from these and other incidents.
Our schoolhouse oaks were of the majestic kind.
They had braved the elements for at least a century,
and seemed to be still in the vigour of life.
Their great dark trunks were covered with moss,
and their immense branches, interlocking far above
the ground, shadowed it with a canopy that not a
sunbeam could penetrate. The soil was trodden
hard and smooth by the school boys, and covered
with a short, green sward, over which the wind
swept so freely as to carry away all the fallen
leaves.
Here we played, and wrestled, and ran races;
here, in hot weather, the master, forsaking the
schoolhouse, disposed his noisy pupils in groups
among the trees; here the rustic orator harangued
his patriotic fellow citizens on the anniversary of
independence; and here the itinerant preacher addressed
the neighbours on the Sabbath. On occasions
like the latter, our grove became as gay as a
were as numerous and many coloured as the flowers
of the field. The farmers and their families generally
came to the preaching on horseback; and it
was a fortunate animal that bore a lighter burden
than two adults and a brace of children. The
young women rode behind their brothers or sweethearts,
or in default of such attendants, mounted
sociably in pairs, the best rider taking the saddle
and holding the reins, as smart girls are always
willing enough to do. It was a goodly sight to see
the horses hitched to the trees in every direction,
showing off their sleek hides and well combed
manes to the best advantage; and decked with
new saddles, and gaudy saddle cloths, and fine
riding skirts, that were never exposed to the weather
or the eye except on Sundays and holidays. Then
the people, before the sermon began, sitting in
groups, or strolling in little companies, looked so
gay and so happy, that Sunday seemed to be to
them not merely a day of rest, but of thanksgiving
and enjoyment. When they collected round the
preacher, sitting silent and motionless, with their
heads uncovered and thrown back in devout attention,
the scene acquired a graver and deeper interest.
I have never witnessed that spectacle on a
calm, sunny day, without a sensation of thrilling
pleasure; and often as I have seen it, the impression
that it made continued ever fresh and beautiful.
There was a mingled cheerfulness and solemnity in
afterwards felt in the midst of my studies or sports
on school days, a soothing calmness creeping over
me, a feeling that the place was hallowed, like that
which we experience when strolling in a graveyard,
or lingering in the aisle of a church.
My memory clings to this spot, as the scene of
the most vivid pains and pleasures of my childhood.
I pass over the detail of all the sufferings that I endured
from the brutality of ignorant and tyrannical
teachers; perhaps I was more sensitive than other
children; but be that as it may, it is certain that
although I was fond of learning, and docile in my
disposition, I imbibed, very early in life, a cordial
hatred for the whole race of schoolmasters. But I
loved my books and my companions; I loved to
play at ball and run races; and I loved the schoolhouse
grove, with its tall oaks and verdant lawn. I
used to linger on a neighbouring hill, to look on
that graceful swell, and those fine trees, and to
wonder why I thought the landscape so attractive.
Those who recollect their sensations on first entering
a theatre, or reading a novel, can form some
idea of my feelings. That first play and first novel
remain through life impressed upon the imagination,
as standards with which all similar objects are
compared; and it was thus that the most interesting
spot that attracted my young fancy, became to
me the beau ideal of rural and romantic beauty.
There was another charm connected with this
reader, although for many years I hardly dared acknowledge
it to myself. My cousin Lucy was my
school companion, and I never think of that green
hill without seeing her slender form gliding among
its shades, with the same calm blue eye, and meek
countenance, and soft smile, that she wore when
we were children. I hardly know why I loved
Lucy better than any body else, for she was several
years my senior, and never was my playfellow.
I romped and laughed with the other girls, and
played them all sorts of tricks; but I never hid her
bonnet, or pinned her sleeve to that of her next
neighbour. From her childhood she was sedate
and womanly; her deportment was always delicate
and dignified; there was a something about her
that repelled familiarity, while the winning softness
of her manner invited love and respect. When I
came near to Lucy I was no longer a wild, mischievous
boy, but was elevated into a better and
more rational being by the desire that I felt to
please and serve her.
We had a succession of schoolmasters, the most
of whom were illiterate men, who remained with
us but a few months. At last there came one of
higher pretensions than the rest. He was a young
man of liberal education, who brought with him
the highest testimonials of his character and attainments.
He strolled into the neighbourhood on
foot, and so great was his modesty that it was
or suspected the object of his visit. At
length he proposed, with some diffidence, to fill the
vacant situation of teacher; and, having produced
his credentials, was readily admitted to that thankless
office. He was altogether a different man
from any of his predecessors. His temper was
even, his heart kind, his manners easy, and he had
the rare talent of commanding respect, and communicating
knowledge, without the appearance of
an effort. He was as bashful as a girl, and as artless
a being as ever lived. Every body liked him;
his good sense, his cheerfulness, his inoffensive
manners, and industrious habits, made him the favourite
of young and old.
It was customary in those days for the schoolmaster
to board with his patrons, each one entertaining
him for a week at a time, in rotation; an
arrangement which, while it divided the burden of
his subsistence equally, enabled the whole neighbourhood
to become personally acquainted with
the pedagogue. When the latter happened to be
a dull, prosing dog, scantily supplied with good
manners and good fellowship, the week of his reception
wore heavily away, the table was less plentifully
spread than usual, and the whiskey jug was
sure to have suffered some disaster on the day previous
to his arrival. The head of the family indulged
himself on such occasions in liberal remarks
upon the idleness and effeminacy of learning; and
of provisions, and the high price of schooling, gave
the unfortunate teacher to understand that he was
considered as a mere incubus upon the body politic—a
Mr. Nobody, who was only tolerated, and
fed, and allowed to sit in the chimney-corner, for
the purpose of keeping the children out of mischief.
But if the schoolmaster was a pleasant fellow,
one who read the newspapers, and played the
fiddle, and told a good story, the week of his visitation
brought holiday times and high doings to the
farmer's hospitable fireside. Then the good man
heard the news, the girls heard the violin, and the
mistress of the house found a patient auditor to the
recital of all the misadventures which had befallen
the family within the scope of her memory. Then
the boys wore their holiday clothes every day, the
hospitable board groaned under a load of good
things, and the cheerful family enjoyed seven long
days of good humour and good eating.
Of all schoolmasters, Mr. Alexis, the gentleman
above alluded to, was the most popular one that
ever darkened the door of a farm-house. In his
time, the “schoolmaster's week” was a week of
festival. He not only read the news, and played
the fiddle, but could sing a good song, and recite
the veracious biography of a hundred real ghosts.
He could explain all the hard words in the Testament,
all the outlandish names in the newspapers,
and all the strange hieroglyphics which are mischievously
brains of simple country folks. Then he was affable
and talkative; with all this he was good-humoured,
and, what perhaps was more effective
than all the rest, he was good-looking. With
such qualifications he was always a welcome
visiter, and I can well remember the stir that his
coming occasioned in my father's house. On the
preceding Saturday there was an universal scrubbing;
the floors, the windows, the chairs, the pewter
plates, the milk pails, and the children, were all
scrubbed. The dimity curtains, that lay snugly
packed away in the great press, sprinkled with
lavender and rose leaves, were now brought forth
and hung over the parlour windows; and the
snow-white counterpanes, that were kept for great
occasions, were ostentatiously spread upon the
beds. The yard was swept, and the great weeds
that had been suffered to grow unmolested, were
plucked up; and the whole messuage, out-houses,
tenements, and appurtenances, made to look as fine
and as smart as the nature of the case would
admit. Then such baking, and brewing, and
cooking! The great oven teemed with huge
loaves and rich pastry; yielding forth from its vast
mouth puddings, and pies, and tarts, enough to
have foundered a whole board of aldermen. The
fatted calf was killed, the brightest ornaments of
the pig-stye and poultry-yard were devoted to the
knife, and the best blood of the farm was freely
to pamper the appetite of that important and
popular character, the schoolmaster.
I am often singular in my opinions, for I do not
consider myself bound to believe any thing, merely
because every body else believes it. As to the
schoolmaster, I disliked him from the very first;
and when every body else praised him, I was
silent. I had an inherent antipathy against all pedagogues.
I viewed them as our natural enemies,
a race created to scourge and terrify children; and
for the person in question I entertained a special
and particular aversion. This was the more singular,
as I was by nature confiding and placable, and
never indulged a malignant feeling towards any
other human being. He treated me with kindness,
instructed me with unwearied patience, and I verily
believe would have found the road to my heart,
had I not suspected that he was searching out the
way that led to my cousin Lucy's. I was always
jealous of her, because the disparity of our ages
placed her at a distance which almost extinguished
hope, and because she always treated me as a boy
and a relation, and either never did, or never
would see that I cherished feelings towards her infinitely
more tender than any that the mere ties of
consanguinity could have awakened. A boy in
love becomes cunning beyond his years. Unable
to enter the lists as a candidate, and obliged to
look on in silence, he becomes the secret and vigilant
watching the schoolmaster and my cousin
Lucy; and not a glance, nor a blush, nor a touch
of the hand, escaped my jealous eye. An indifferent
observer would have seen nothing in their intercourse
to excite the slightest suspicion; an enamoured
boy, who had loved devotedly from the
first dawn of intelligence, read volumes of meaning
in every act and look. The conduct of both of
them was perfectly delicate and unexceptionable.
There was not the least approach to gallantry on
his part, nor an inviting or an encouraging glance
on hers; but I could mark the softened tone of his
voice, and the involuntary reverence of his manner,
when he addressed her. I could detect the
brightening of his eye when she spoke, and the
courteous bow with which he replied to any question
from her, so different from the common-place
civility with which he treated his other female pupils.
He often walked home with her, but never
without other company, for she was always surrounded
by children, one or two of whom she held
by the hand, as if to prevent the possibility of a
tete-a-tete. Perhaps she never had a thought that
there was any particular meaning in his attentions;
but there is an instinct in female delicacy; and although
it might never have occurred to Lucy that
her teacher had opportunities beyond other men,
which required that she should place a careful
watch over her affections, nature regulated her
without constraint, and never spoke of love, or
courtship, or marriage. But he pointed out to her
the finest traits of the landscape, gathered for her
the choicest flowers, and discoursed of poetry;
sometimes reciting the most beautiful passages, in
so eloquent a tone that I could have knocked him
down, and was ready to quarrel with Lucy for the
apparent interest with which she listened. Often
did I wish that he was a thousand miles off, or that
I was a schoolmaster.
It would be too tedious to set down all the mischievous
pranks that I played our teacher, in revenge
for his supposed attachment to my cousin.
Though fond of learning, I obstinately persisted in
a resolution to owe nothing to his teaching; and
more than once disgraced him and myself by wilful
blunders, at our public examinations. I incited
the biggest boys into conspiracies against his peace
and dignity. Once when he was going to a tea-party
at my uncle's, a little better dressed than
usual, a troop of us scampered past him, as he was
crossing a miry brook, and, pretending not to observe
him, splashed a shower of mud and water
over his holiday suit. We sent him one day into
a large company with a grotesque figure chalked
on his back; and on another occasion scorched off
his eyebrows by exploding gunpowder under his
nose, while he was intently engaged in working a
problem in algebra. None of these persecutions
who could not believe that the fault was mine, reproached
him with the slowness of my progress,
he mildly told her that the greatest geniuses were
often dull boys at school, and that I would no
doubt make a shining man.
At length the term of the schoolmaster's engagement
expired, and my heart bounded with joy
when I heard that he was going to quit the country.
I was at my uncle's on the morning of his departure,
when he called to take leave of the family. Lucy
was in the garden, and Alexis went there to look
for her. Young as I was, I could readily comprehend
that a latent passion would be most apt to
betray itself in a parting interview; and that of all
places in the world, a garden is the fittest to excite
tender feelings in the bosom of young lovers. In
a moment a thousand thoughts flashed through my
mind—in another moment love and jealousy
prompted me to observe a meeting, which my foreboding
heart told we would be fraught with more
than usual interest. It was a mean act, but jealousy
is always mean. I was too young, too much in
love, and too angry to reflect; and if I had reflected,
who could have thought it improper to witness
any thing which could possibly take place between
two such perfect beings as my cousin Lucy and the
schoolmaster?
I crept secretly to the garden, and from the covert
of a thick hedge saw Alexis approach my
had come to bid her farewell; that he had bade
adieu to all his other friends, and had deferred calling
upon her until the last, because to part with
her was more painful than all the rest. There was
a touching softness in his voice, and a corresponding
melancholy clouded his features. “What a
canting rascal,” said I to myself; “I am afraid
Lucy will never be able to stand it.”
He then dropt her hand, and began to pluck
twigs from a peach tree, while Lucy was industriously
engaged in demolishing a great rose. At last
he said, “There is one subject—” Lucy stooped
down, and began to pull the weeds from a tulip
bud. The schoolmaster stopped and looked embarrassed.
“Silly fellow!” said I, exultingly, “why does
he not kneel down, and lay his hand upon his
heart?” I took courage when I saw his trepidation,
believing that he would never be able to tell his
love, or that Lucy would discard so clumsy a
lover.
“Miss Lucy”—said the schoolmaster.
“Sir!” said Miss Lucy.
“What a canting villain!” said I.
Mr. Alexis looked around, as if fearful of observation.
“He looks as if he were stealing,” said I; “and
well he may, the vile pedagogue!”
Alexis sighed, threw down his eyes, and resumed,
have long wished—” He looked up, but Lucy
was several paces off, twining the delicate vines of
a honeysuckle through the lattice of the summer-house.
“She will never have him,” said I, in an ecstasy;
“I know she would never have a whining, canting,
pitiful schoolmaster!”
Alexis followed Lucy to the summer-house, and
remarked that “the honeysuckles were very fragrant.”
“Very!” said my cousin.
“He has dropped the subject,” thought I; “dear
Lucy! how well she managed him! Ah! these
schoolmasters know not how to make love; if I
were there, I could show him how!” I breathed
freely, and thought it was all over.
Alexis stood by the side of Lucy; he leaned towards
her, and spoke in a low voice. What he
said I know not, but the words were potent, for
Lucy turned her head from him, and I saw that her
face was covered with blushes, redder than the
coral flowers that hung around her.
I thought she was angry. “If he has dared to
insult my cousin,” said I, “how proudly will I
avenge her quarrel!” I looked again, and could
scarcely believe my eyes! Lucy's head was
reclining upon the shoulder of Alexis, and one
arm was thrown gently around her! I thought their
lips met!
I could stay no longer. I fled from the hateful
scene, burning with rage and jealousy, and deeply
mortified at my own meanness in having become
the voluntary and secret witness of that which
should have been sacred from every eye.
In a few days after this occurrence I left my native
country. I had long been destined for the sea,
and having now received a midshipman's warrant
in the navy, set out for the sea-board. After I had
bade adieu to all my other friends, I went to take
leave of Lucy; for I, too, felt that this was the
most painful of my separations; the parting with
her seemed like breaking the last and tenderest tie
that bound me to the land of my birth. She had
always treated me with the affection of a sister, and
never did her manner seem so tender as at this moment.
When I left her father's house, she followed
me across the little lawn before the door, and as I
threw the reins over my horse's neck, and lingered
to repeat my adieu, she put a paper into my hand.
Her eyes were filled with tears, and my own were
not dry.
I was some miles on my way from home before
my emotion subsided sufficiently to permit me to
read Lucy's note. In this she disclosed to me her
engagement with Alexis; she said it had been approved
by her parents, and that the marriage would
take place whenever he should be established in a
profession, for which he was preparing himself. She
spoke of the fair prospects that smiled before her,
She said that she made this disclosure, because I was
her nearest and dearest relative, after her parents,
and was on the eve of so long an absence, that the
separation seemed to be almost final. More she said,
which I need not repeat; it was all kind and sisterly,
and I vowed that I would always love my cousin
Lucy, whether she married the schoolmaster or not.
Her note had one good effect, which harsher
measures would have failed to produce. Her
generous confidence subdued me; and as I reflected
upon it in my cooler moments, I determined to
smother my ill-fated passion, and to love Lucy
only in manner and form as her cousin lawfully
might. I resolved, moreover, to forego all my
vengeance against Alexis, and to think of him with
kindness.
In a few days I embarked. We had a brilliant
cruise. The war with Great Britain was just declared,
and the ocean swarmed with our enemies.
We were frequently engaged, and generally successful.
The novelty and excitement of this life
soon caused a wonderful revolution in my feelings.
I was no longer a romantic boy, brooding over a
hopeless passion, with the single object of my
adoration continually before my eyes. My heart
had set up other idols; it had now ample sea-room,
and, like our gallant vessel, rode gaily over the
sparkling ocean of life. I learned to think of Lucy
as the destined bride of another; yet I thought of
pronounced her name with the reverence
with which a devout catholic utters that of his tutelary
saint. Often when our ship lay becalmed,
when the clear moonlight was spread over the
ocean, when the waves were at rest, and every
thing was still, I would lie for hours upon the deck,
thinking of the schoolhouse, and its beautiful grove,
and my fair cousin. Then I would think of the
honours that awaited me—of the time when I
should be numbered among the heroes of my country;
and would sigh to reflect, that the lovely
flower, which so proudly I would have twined
among my laurels, would be blushing unseen in the
lowly cottage of a country schoolmaster.
During my first cruise, which lasted nearly two
years, I was so fortunate as to distinguish myself on
several occasions. But I panted for higher honours;
and on our return to port, finding a fine frigate
on the point of sailing, I solicited permission
to join her, and being considered as an efficient
officer, my request was granted, and I sailed on
another cruise, without setting my foot on shore.
This act of devotedness to my profession raised me
in the eyes of my commander, who afforded me
every opportunity of acquiring distinction. I now
rose rapidly. When at sea I was engaged in every
hazardous enterprise, and when in foreign ports
my superior introduced me into the best society.
Among the exotic beauties whom I beheld, I saw
more polished; perhaps my taste became vitiated,
for although I still cherished the memory of her
unpretending graces, I learned to admire the more
dazzling charms of others, and to indulge the
thought that I might at some future day adore another
in her stead.
After a long cruise, in which many dangerous
exploits were attempted, and some of them brilliantly
accomplished, we were homeward bound,
when we fell in with a fine frigate of the enemy.
Both ships were soon cleared for action, and after
a bloody engagement we succeeded in capturing
our foe. I was now acting as a lieutenant, and
having the good fortune to be stationed on the
spar-deck, immediately under the eye of my commander,
received his compliments for my conduct.
We came into port triumphantly. Public honours
of the highest character were awarded to us.
Dinners and balls were given, and the population
of a great city vied in the expression of their patriotic
gratitude; while the newspapers throughout
the whole continent were filled with our praises.
I was promoted to a lieutenancy, and had the gratification
of seeing my name emblazoned in the
public prints, with those of my distinguished superiors.
In these proud moments I did not forget my
fair cousin; entirely as I had resigned her, and cordially
as I wished her happiness, I sighed to think
of her obscure and lonely fate. With a partner so
I should have been supremely happy; and I could
not but marvel at the capricious decree of fortune,
which had doomed one, who might have shone as
the bride of a naval hero, to drag out her existence
in the vulgar lot of wife to a country pedagogue.
I had written to my parents on my arrival; but
a round of entertainments, given in honour of our
victory, prevented me from visiting them. One
evening, as I strolled through the streets with a
friend, we passed a spacious church, into which
crowds of fashionable people were hurrying with
apparent eagerness.
“Let us go in here,” said my companion, “and
hear the the fashionable preacher, one who has
turned the heads of the whole town, and is more
talked of than Commodore Perry or General Scott.
He is a new man, who has eclipsed all his contemporaries
by his eloquence, while his learning and
modesty win universal esteem.”
We entered the church, and I looked round
upon the novel exhibition, as upon some fairy
scene. It was long since I had sat in the bosom of
a worshipping congregation; and how different
was this from the rustic assemblage that I had
been accustomed to see, gathered in pious silence
under the schoolhouse oaks! Here was a splendid
edifice, ornamented with gilding, decorated with
rich hangings, and lighted with brilliant chandeliers,
whose intense effulgence awakened in my
But the audience, how gay, how gorgeous,
how beautiful! Those to whom such scenes are
familiar, can form but a faint idea of the impression
made by a fair and fashionable crowd upon
the mind of one accustomed only to rustic assemblages,
or to the hardy multitudes who fill the
camp or crowd the quarter-deck. Here were
gems, and plumes, and silks, and glowing cheeks,
and sparkling eyes; but there was also a simple
elegance in the attire, a sedateness in the demeanour,
and above all, a devout humility, reigning
throughout this thrilling scene, that added to it a
solemn grandeur, which exceeds my powers of description.
My heart was elevated as I gazed on
that rich, and silent, and motionless picture; and I
felt how the omnipotent influence of religion can
quell the happy, and soothe the wretched, and win
the gay, and calm down all the tumultuous passions
of human nature, as oil poured upon the
waves reduces them to a placid surface.
At length the preacher arose, and every eye was
turned towards him. I looked up, and what was
my surprise at beholding Alexis! I could not be
mistaken, for there he stood in the same simple attire,
with the same humble aspect, and the same
benignant smile, that were so familiarly impressed
upon my recollection. His manner had all its former
mildness, and his voice its accustomed melody;
there was only a little more of fulness and
added to the other. His sermon was eloquent
and able; the language was clear, classical, and simple;
the manner of its delivery calm and unassuming.
His voice was never strained, and seldom elevated
above its ordinary pitch; it swelled and softened
upon the ear, without the slightest effort on the
part of the speaker, without the least violence to
the sense of the hearer. There was no labour of
the body; the arm was never extended, the hand
only was raised occasionally from the cushion.
The whole manner of the speaker was mild and
persuasive; his argument was acute, close, and
powerful, without any attempt to adorn it with the
graces of composition, or to win applause by the
arts of oratory; yet such was the effect produced
by the delicate choice of harmonious words, their
symmetrical arrangement and chaste delivery,
together with the apostolic earnestness, and an air
of pious conviction that breathed throughout, that
all felt and acknowledged that the speaker had
opened a new vein of genuine eloquence.
The deep silence that prevailed during the sermon,
and the subdued murmur of applause that
ran in whispers through the congregation when the
service was over, attested the powerful effect of
the discourse. As the people dispersed, I endeavoured
to make my way to Mr. Alexis, but the
crowd was so great as to prevent me from reaching
the pulpit until he had disappeared; and as it
seek him on the following day. I now saw that
Lucy was not wedded to obscurity and indigence,
and gave her full credit for having discovered a
man of genius and feeling in the despised schoolmaster,
who had so long been the object of my
contempt and aversion. I took shame to myself
for having presumed to institute comparisons between
Alexis and myself; and felt humble in acknowledging
that my ephemeral honours would
soon be forgotten, while his useful career and
splendid powers would sustain for him a brilliant
reputation during his existence, and earn a name,
which his countrymen would cherish with gratitude
when he should be no more. One thing flattered
my pride and consoled my prejudices; I
learned that Mr. Alexis had long since abandoned
his former vocation, and that my cousin had not,
after all, married a schoolmaster.
On the following morning early, Mr. Alexis anticipated
my visit, by calling to see me. We met
cordially; and on the day after were jogging sociably
together towards my native place. I found
Lucy a proud and happy wife. They had built a
neat cottage on the schoolhouse hill, in the midst
of that beautiful grove, which they carefully preserved
in memory of former days; and I now found
that I had not been singular in my admiration of
its sylvan graces. The schoolhouse had been removed;
and a large, plain meeting-house, on a
congregation, under the ministry of Alexis. Loved
and honoured by his former pupils, the worthy
pastor is surrounded by them, who look up to him
with gratitude as the teacher of their youth, and
with reverence as the guide of their maturity;
while the happy Lucy, in the society of her early
friends and chosen partner, enjoys the sweetest
fruits of innocence and virtue. Here they live in
contentment and honour; and when I witnessed
their placid lives, their pious labours, their active
benevolence and simple virtues, I scarcely knew
which to love and admire most, my fair and gentle
cousin Lucy, or my ancient rival, but now my very
reverend and much honoured cousin, “the schoolmaster.”
| MY COUSIN LUCY
AND THE VILLAGE TEACHER. The soldier's bride and other tales | |