University of Virginia Library

4. CHAPTER IV.

“Pray,” said I, as soon as we were sufficiently
alone together—it was a week after this conversation,
that is related in the preceding chapter—“Pray Hammond,
tell me about the duel.”

“Which one?”

“Which one! were there more than one?”

“Yes—I have been well nigh. engaged in four or five;
but never actually in the field, but once—for which, I
pray God, to forgive me.”

“What! that you have never been in the field but
once?”

“No—that I have ever been out, at all.”

“Did you kill your man?”

“Yes.”

“On the spot?”

“No—he lived three years afterwards—went to sea
for his health, and died.”

“And how do you feel about it?”

“Feel!—so help me God! that it had been better for
me, had I been killed upon the spot.”

As he said this, he thrust out his long arms, at their
full length before him; and shut his eyes, with such a
look of unutterable desolation, that I felt my blood run
cold. Surely, thought I, the dead body must have
passed at that moment; and he must have felt it.

There was a silence of some minutes, that I was truly
afraid to interrupt. But it grew insupportable, at
at last; and I made some noise with my feet. He
heeded it not—stirred not—but his shut eyes were quivering
in the sockets—the water oozing and trickling,
drop by drop, from under the heavy lids, down to his
mouth, while all the rest of his face was immoveable,
and pale as marble. It was terrifick.

“Hammond!” I cried, in unaffected alarm.

“Fire!” he answered, instantly—uncovering his
breast, as if to receive a shot.”

“Hammond! Hammond!” I cried, again.

He opened his eyes—they were blood shot—saw
me—started up—and instantly recollected himself.

“Tell me how it happened;” said I.

“Be patient,” he replied. “Bear with me. Let me
walk a few minutes. I have much to tell. It is not
a proper time. I would have you know all about me;
and tomorrow night—if you are better not employed,
I—.”

“Tomorrow night, be it, then,” said I.

After that, he sat down again; and we chattered
away the best part of the evening together; and a part
of the next day, in a most pleasant and sociable manner.
But, on the night, agreed upon, when I entered
the room, I saw that he had been writing—his features
were pale and stiff. “You should know all, that you may
be prepared for whatever may happen. But I shall expect
the same confidence from you.”

“You will be disappointed,” said I. “No human being
shall ever know how I have passed nearly one year
of my life; or where. I have no disposition to conceal
the fact that, there is blood upon my hands too:—blood,
less innocently shed than yours—but where---and when,
and why shed, I cannot tell. Three years of my life, are
dark to me; so dark, that I dare not approach them
in thought. There was a black ocean about me, then
---another being and I, passed each other; like two privateers---at
night---in a gale of wind. There were
shrieks---and fire---and smoke---and a cannonading,
or something like it---it might have been thunder.---
And, when I was fully myself again, there was the smell
of blood, fresh blood about me; on my hair; upon my
clothes; upon my hands! O Christ! I cannot, cannot
go on. That is all that you will ever know. It is
nearly all that I, myself know. Are you satisfied with
it?”

“No.”

“It was revenge, perhaps?”

“No matter.”

“Jealousy?”

“Aye---jealousy, perhaps.—”

“Was it the blood of innocence—?”

“No matter. It shall not be told. I know not.

He shook my hands, and turned away his face.

“I know not,” said he, “why I have undertaken to
judge you. There is One, that hath authority. We
have both sinned; I, probably, with the least excuse,
for jealousy never shook my heart---never will.---Of
whom, can such a creature as I, be jealous? Three
years! you say---that cannot be---there is not more
than one year in all, in which I have lost sight of you; and
the longest period, where there are no certain traces of
you, is about only eight or ten weeks. But no matter.
Both of us are red transgressors.---Let us repent.
Let us be compassionate to each other; and, now that
the world are willing to let us alone, guilty that we
are, let us be wary, for the future; and repent betimes.
In one word---Let us be good. What say you.”

We embraced; and I wept upon his bosom---What
was there, in his strange voice, that so mastered me? I
could not resist it. It was like the wizard summoning
of one, that looks into a cavern, haunted with unclean
spirits, and brave princely creatures, and bids them
separate and come forth. Mine obeyed him; and my
hear tfelt warmer, cleare, once rid of the pestilent warring
tenantry.

“Are you ready for the tale?”

“All ready,” said I, throwing myself back into the
most comfortable chair, that I ever sat in—flinging
one leg over a pile of books, at my right hand; and
resting the other upon a high fender---willing to make
myself at home.

“Well---you know something of the difficulty, that I
had to encounter in my boy-hood; and enough of what
passed, till you disappeared. Soon after that, I began
to hear you spoken of, sometimes with affection; often,
as one capable of great things: and I began to learn
that, if one would know his own strength, he must go
abroad. We cannot learn to swim upon a table. We
must go among the breakers. A man may stand forever

upon a precipice, if he trust to nothing but his own
limbs. But, if he rely upon a cobweb, in any degree;
and it should snap,---he is gone!”

“I determined to go abroad; to seek you, if I could,
my friend. Elizab---your sister—had taught me the value
of my faculties. I began to study her character, before
I did yours;---for I considered you as a petulant idiot,
particularly after you half strangled your uncle, and
blew up his boys with gunpowder. But your sister, I
could study for ever—and she taught me to know you
better. As we grew older, my respect for her became
awful---it was religious---the duel was on her account.
She does not know it---and I would not have her know
it. It is a secret to all but you. Let it remain so. You
know that she is resolved never to marry. I am sorry
for it—for she cannot live so long as I—and I should love
to toil for her children, when she is in her grave. Such
a woman---that will not marry---from loftiness of heart,
delicacy of sentiment, and genuine independence, ought
to be set up for men to wonder at.”

“I have always loved to hear the name of Elizabeth
spoken reverently; and, particularly, when it was by
them that had power and beauty of mind enough, to understand
her; enough of that strange affinity, which nature
has established, between creatures of the same rank;
yet here was a man that could understand her—a man
of exceeding potency, and very honest, speaking of her,
in the language that I most loved to hear; yet—yet—
I cannot deny it; the swell of my heart was unlike any
that I had ever felt before, when Elizabeth was praised;
it was bitter, painful, and sorrowful—alarming:
I would have asked him to tell me why—; but I dared
not; and I know not whether he observed any alteration
in my countenance or not, for he continued, much in the
same tone, to relate to me. the following particulars of
his life. I was amazed at the resemblance in a part of
our history, and disposition. Yet, his had been the
less calamitous, and the less varied life; and his, the
nobler, and more patient temper. I felt it; and what
I feel, I am always ready to acknowledge. His rebuking
went home to my heart; and, when he had done, I

do confess to you, that I felt ashamed of many things, in
my life, upon which, till then, I had been accustomed
to look only with a feeling of complacency; and, sometimes,
of exultation. But no—he dashed them to the
earth—laughed at me—quelled me, and taught me, ere
he had well done, that to be, in any degree great, is to
be good. He did not teach—what is not true—that
there is any irretrievable or unpardonable sin, either
before God and his angels, or before men;—but he did
teach, what is true, that blackness and death are, for
ever, upon that part of the soul, where transgression
hath but once, and for a single moment, laid her burning
hand; that Repentance, and Contrition, and Sorrow,
may pour their oil and wine into the bruised heart,
or the broken forehead—but that, for ever and ever,
the scar will remain, and the agony of remembrance.
He did not teach, for he was wise and honest, that one
may not be the mightier in his uprising, who hath suffered
longest under the accumulation of evil—: nor
that one, who stumbles, and yet touches not the earth,
or touches it, if he touch it, like Antæus, for renovation
and invulnerability, may not, thereby, exhibit to the
world, powers that, if he had not stumbled; or had gone
steadily along the precipices of life, had never been developed
or suspected—no!—but he taught that, to
stumble at all—upon any precipice, is putting your immortal
soul, unpreparedly, at hazard.

“You know,” said he, “that I went behind a counter,
just about the same time that you did; but, it was
never after my taste. It appeared to me dishonourable,
for men to take upon themselves a business, so entirely
fitted, as retailing, for the support of helpless women,
widows, and orphans; and so much easier, more
profitable, and more respectable for them, than the occupations,
to which they are generally driven, by the men
that have monopolized their trade. Commonly, when
a woman is left destitute upon the world, she is obliged
to keep a school, or to take boarders[1] —neither of which
will leave her a provision for her old age, or permit to
her the commonest enjoyment of life. I soon became

weary of the business; and thought of some profession.
I looked about me; but I was friendless and destitute.
The church had its temptation; but how was I to disinthral
myself from the world?—how, to become initiated.
I was neither abject, dastardly, nor willing to go apprentice
to any man's religious opinion, as to a trade,
I say apprenticeship, because, it is one. How happens
it, that the pupils preach the same doctrine, when they
set up for themselves, that their masters taught? Can
it be conviction? Is it likely to be?—No! When a
father wishes to make a minister of his boy, he always
put him to learn the trade of some person, who thinks
as he does; or whose mode of thinking is fashionable
and profitable. What is he then, but an apprentice?
Where, then, was I to find a man, who would educate
me; converse with me; reason with me; and when he had
done, leave me utterly to God, and to my own understanding,
for my choice of religion? Or where was I
to find a theological seminary, where I could be educated,
in any way,—even by sweeping the rooms, and
waiting upon the table, of my fellow students—running
their errands, and abiding their jeers and taunting,
meekly—from which, or from the creed of which, when
I was ready to go out into the world, if I ventured to
dissent—where was there one that would license me?—
one that would not brand me as an apostate? Ah, my
friend, (let me begin to call you so) I had such dreams!
Could I have but set my foot within the church—
though there were no college of Jesus; no Jesuits about
me—no bishops, nor archbishops; cardinals, nor popes,
within the reach and scope of my ambition, I do feel
assured—assured—William Adams, that the Dwarf
would have wrought powerfully among the nations;
and left a name behind him, that would not readily
have been forgotten—”

“But no. This career was not for me. The church
was walled round with triple brass to me. I had no
rich friends; was no fawning beggar—; could neither
sell myself to this congregation, nor to that—; nor to
any missionary society; and so---I was fain to abandon
that hope. In time, there were people, who affected to

understand my heart; but they deceived themselves.
They granted that my doctrines were those of morality;—but,---and
I never pretended that they were;
that they were not those of religion. No sect claimed
me---there was no communion for me---, no creed.
Why? Let me lay bare the secret. That only, was
religion, to every man, you know, which every man
followed as his. The rest was heresy. Of course, as I
followed the religion of no one---blessing my God,
that he had given me some understanding, and some
wisdom; and praying for more---to all, I was a heretick.”

“Successively, I traversed in thought, most of the
trades and professions of men; and, at last, weary of the
search, yet heaving, continually, after dominion, I sat
myself down, patiently, unweariedly, to what I regarded
as my duty; and, as I saw no prospect of being either
a lawyer, soldier, actor, physician or divine, I determined
to be, though it should take me half a century, a
great merchant. I knew that the name was honourable;
the power great; and, that he, who was only a great
merchant, was on a level with kings—nay, with statesmen.”

“But how was this to be achieved; I was pennyless;
and my spirit had been hampered, and subdued from
its capacity and elevation, by the mercentary, paltry
trifling, of a retail shop. Yet---it is my nature, never
to despair—nay, never to despond. I knew that the
greatest men have arisen from the smallest beginning;---that
the largest fortunes are but a combination
of cents---the ocean, of drops.”

“And, while these thoughts were working within me,
I met a young man, unlike me in every respect; but
well enough for my purpose---(I only wanted him for a
stepping stone)---who pretended that he had money and
friends. These, I knew, were the true mechanical
powers of life. With them, you may heave a world,
without troubling yourself for a place to establish your
machinery upon. My first movement, was to “buy out,”
as it is called, “the stock” of an experienced shopkeeper;
in other words, to purchase at any price, the accumulated

refuse and rubbish of a whole generation, merely
to get what was called a good stand, in a country town.
My proposals were very distinct: the terms were acceded
to; but the stock, which, we had been told, would
amount to only three or four thousand dollars, we
found fast approximating to ten or twelve. This was
not to be born---I had no idea of selling myself, wrist
and ancle, for life, to vend old goods---; and, as the best
way of backing out of the agreement,---I electioneered
so, as to make the owner insist for his ultimatum, upon
a security, that we could not possibly give! This
concluded the negotiation; and the store, owner and
goods got the benefit of a dusting, and re-arrangement,
which all wanted;---and I, lighter of heart by a whole
world, leaped about, for a month, like a galley slave
set unexpectedly at liberty, by a thunder clap; or some
miraculous melting, or sundering of his chains.”

“After this, I continued my way, lumbering along
the great turnpike of life, until I found myself doing
business a while, on a very respectable scale, in New
York; and soon after, in a more diminutive, but very
productive one, in Boston; and then, in a city of the
south.”

“It would be idle to dwell upon any of these intermediate
stages of my life; and, therefore, I will take you,
at once, into the hurry, and bustle, and distraction, of
that, which shipwrecked me. It was in a southern, city.
I need not tell you where; but, with one clerk, I
will venture to say that I made more money, honestly,
in a few months, than was made by any three warehouses
in the city, during the same time; though some
of them had an army of clerks and household troops.
But then, there were vicissitudes. I had become associated
with two other men—men, to whom, I am willing
to confess, that I owe everything that is dear to
me---in business. One was an adventurous fellow, understanding
better the ways and means of financiering,
than any human creature, I believe, except Law, the projector
of the Mississippi scheme; yet credulous, beyond
belief; a being, who never gave himself any other trouble
in life, than to sell as many goods as he could, at as

large a profit as he could—for anybody's note; it mattered
not much, whose; the other, a high minded man; and
I then thought, of more inflexible integrity, strength of
character, genuine, unadulterated feeling---than any
other, that I have ever known. Not two men could have
been worse fashioned for sober merchandising. The
one was literally a commercial gambler; the other, ignorant,
beyond belief, of all the paltry tricking and detail
of trade; who had been educated to another profession;
in which, one day, he would have stood, almost
alone; but God had laid his visiting hand upon him,
and broke him down, utterly, in all, but the integrity
of his heart. He had his share of business, in his own
profession; but, when he got hold upon it, sickness came
upon him; and he was put back, a whole season; for a
time too, that, in the outset of our career, is irretrievable.
But he renewed the trial; and persisted, till his
little property was dissipated---and clouds were about
him---and his great heart was heavy---nay, till there
were bidders for him, and his conscience---till men
thought to buy, even his political integrity.”

“The man who became his partner and mine, afterward,
saw the struggle, and dealt plainly with him.
“Come to me;” said he; “enter into partnership, with me.
I do not ask you to meddle with the business. You can
keep the books; and sign checks and notes; and play
the gentleman, when necessary; and write letters for
the house; eat dinners; and that will be all that I shall
ask.”

“It was a struggle of life and death to him---it was
selling his birthright---his title to immortality, for so
much trash as may be grasped thus; but the bread—
the bread, that his wife and babe were to feed upon—
could be bought, only with that trash; and that could
he had, only by subjection to men that would just feed
him for his musick; or, by accepting this proposal. He
accepted of the latter; and, it was soon after the union
of these two men, that I met with them; and was, in one
way and another, put into business[2] by them. I was

sent to the south, as I have told you, with letters; among
which, was one, to a scurvy old gentleman, of whom I
shall have occasion, soon, to speak, more particularly,
as the most unrelenting, pitiless, iron-handed man,
that ever wrung the blood out of a human heart.”

“My business was exceedingly prosperous; and I soon
persuaded my partners to join me, where I was established.
But, here began our reverses. We were
three; and, when a question was to be decided, between
me and the financier, it was sure to be decided by our
partner, against me. The consequence was, that we
speculated too largely—our goods were detained at
sea, an unprecedented time—the season for business
passed away—and we were left, to pay for our purchases,
out of the reluctant proceeds of a tremendous
stock, rapidly declining. Our exertions were desperate.
We had two large, wholesale stores, open; and
we immediately established two others, for retailing;
careful, at the same time, like all persons in similar
circumstances, to crowd off all that we could, of our
stock, upon every tolerable pretence of security; selling
to such as were recommended to us, by our neighbours;
forgetful that such a recommendation ought always
to startle us; if the person recommended be a
debtor of the one that recommends.”

“We had to renew our notes---as we could---giving
such security as we could; and lugging in, as men always
do, when they are drowning, all those who are
foolish enough in their friendship, to venture within
their reach. It is true, that we believed our concern
solvent to a large amount, notwithstanding all our
losses;---but, we did not know it; and were, therefore,
guilty of embarrassing our best friends.”

“At last, the spring opened; and we strained, like
men heaving for their lives, to throw off the burden
that was leaning upon us; and the better to assist us, in
disposing of an old stock, we sent to Philadelphia for
a small quantity of fresh goods. The scheme was
well; and a partner (the adventurer) carried it into
effect. But while he was gone, I had rather an ugly
process of examination gone through with; and the re

sult was, that I found we were ruined;---and, as honest
men, could not go on, any longer. He returned;
and, that night, we never shut our eyes. He was thunderstruck,
at what I told him.”

“What would be said of us?” said he---“These late
purchases of ours will look villainously black. All
our desperate exertions will be regarded as deliberate
villany, to get what we could, into our hands, before
we failed.”

“We must submit to the imputation, for awhile,”
said I. “But our duty is plain. The goods must all
be sent back.”

“But a part are already sold.”

“Then let us send back what are not sold---and permit
the creditor to choose from our stock, for the deficiency.”

That was agreed to:---yet---it is a pity that such
things should not be known!---there was a man, in
Philadelphia, of whom we had purchased largely; and
to whose agent, we had returned the goods, in this
way; yet he has persecuted us, ever since, with a more
deadly and unsparing malignity, for the amount of a
few dollars, that had been taken out and sold, before
I had come to a determination to return them, than
any other human being.[3]

We had a hundred other trials to endure. Like
other men, full of blood and confidence, from whose
hands the cup is not entirely wrenched, we were willing
to make some terms, before we capitulated. We
talked with our friends;---and, particularly, with a testy
old gentleman, named Galligan, who complained
a good deal afterward, about my ingratitude, of which
I shall soon give you a notion;---and the result was,
that he advised me to pay such of our creditors, as were

frightened, in goods; with a wink o' the eye, that said
plainer than words could have said it---“frighten 'em
first; and then nab 'em.”

“This old man was the first to give me this advice---
“Pay 'em,” said he, “if they're frightened, pay 'em!---
You know, my boy, you know---tell 'em you're the boy
what buys goods o' me---make 'em pay.” At the same
time, he took notes, as security for his debt, knowing
that, if they were to be sold at auction, they would
bring much more, than the same amount of goods, unseasonable
and tremendously charged as ours were. I
mention these things, dear Adams, because I would
have you understand something, of what you may expect,
if you should ever be shipwrecked, or burnt out:
and, briefly, that I may come the sooner to a more interesting
part of my life.”

“I beg you to keep him---(the old man) in your mind
awhile. He afterward complained of my ingratitude.”

“The ground of which complaint, I know to be this.
My partner, the letter writer, furnished me with a civil
introduction to this old gentleman, in which, adroitly
enough, he alluded to something in his early history,
which tickled him. I presented the letter; and was
asked---I believe---but I am not sure---how the writer
was. That was the extent of his civility. Not another
word passed, having any relation to him, or to me;
and I went away, with a feeling of strong and heated
indignation against myself, for having born the letter;
and against the writer, for having subjected me to such
a mortification; and against old Mr. Galligan, for his
ill manners; nor did I ever go to see him again. But
one day, some months afterward, somebody, whom I
took to be a mendicant; or, at least, some small dealer;
for I had forgotten his face, came into my store; and,
after sitting there awhile, urged me to come up, and
see him. It was Mr. Galligan himself. I smiled at
his civility; for my store was then loaded with goods;
and I was full of business. Ought I not to be grateful,
very grateful, to one that was willing to sell me a
bale or two of coarse woollens, under such circumstances?
Ought I not, when, at twenty-four hours notice,

I could have purchased five times the amount of his
whole stock, in the publick market---gratitude!—
Yes! I am full of gratitude!---and here is a proof of it.”

“Yet, of this, he complained afterward---when we
had paid, or secured our borrowed money, and endorsements,
as an ill requited act of friendship—Alas!---
the impudence of some men!”

“Well-- as our difficulties thickened upon us, we began
to follow his advice; and pay off, such of our creditors---as
were foolish enough to take them, in goods;
but, unfortunately---they would not hold out. And we
were obliged then, to propose an accommodation. We
corresponded with our creditors. All had the “highest,
best opinion in the world, of our honesty and excellence,”
and all that---were “excessively sorry,”
but, “really, times were so hard,” that they---“could
not afford---to say---yes or no,” to any of our propositions.
At last, however, they promised to accede, one
by one, to an assignment of our property; and discharge
us.”

“It was drawn up. Months were consumed in the
negotiation; and, when nearly all had signed, the remainder
held out, the scoundrels! in the hope of obtaining
better terms for themselves.”

“There was now, no other way open to us, but to
petition, for a discharge under the insolvent law.
This we had been most reluctant to do---, but, at last,
did it; and then came the rub. In a short time, we
were so utterly reduced; beggared, that, from having
had the command of almost unlimited sums---we were
scarcely able, at times, except by borrowing, to take
a letter out of the post office. My elder partner, the
married one, fell sick;---and I stood by him, and saw
friend after friend pass away from him---the whole
world go by him---for he had fallen among thieves;
and none stopped, to pour tears, or wine, or oil into his
wounds---Yea!---I saw his family go from him, one by
one; his children; his wife; and himself, left alone,
utterly alone, in the maturity of his years; like a
shipwrecked man---famished and bruised, clinging to
his only rock---a compassionate God; while an ocean

of darkness roared under his feet; and the tide was
rising. Yet, how did he bear it. As one that knoweth
the Scripture; and believeth, that “whom the Lord
loveth, he chasteneth.” Yet, there were doubt and
harrowing; and who would not have had them, situated
as he was---his towering faculties darkened; his
wife and children passing, like pale apparitions, before
him; the noblest sympathies of nature blasted, all at
once; outraged in their luxuriance, as by the ashes and
lava of some inward eruption of the heart! By him,
have I set, when the last spoon of his wife had just been
sold, to pay the rent of his room; and he seemed deserted
of all but God;—when his dark, luminous eyes;
and heavy, black brows were like statuary; motionless
and marble like. And there were times too, in the
deep solitude of midnight, when his Bible lay open
before him; and he, it might be, was the only mortal
awake, in a populous city, except the prowling murderer;
the roused watchman; or the dying; or the broken
hearted,---when, had he not been a good, as well as a
great man, he would have lain down upon his bed, and
never risen again, but to face his creditors before the
bar of the Everlasting God---red with his own blood.”

“But enough. I cannot talk of this---it is too serious
for me. It shakes me too like the passion of a
wild beast. But the trial had its issue; and the sun
broke out upon him; and from the east, there came out
a great multitude to meet him. He is now happy---
God be thanked!---happy, as a mere mortal may be,
among them that love him, and reverence him; and
them, that he has wedded himself, and his immortality
to.”

“But, during the time of our trouble---a time that
I now regard as the happiest, and most truly productive
of our lives,---it was my misfortune to be employed
in some negotiations, that grew out of them.
Yet my temper was not of the right sort. It would
not brook a great deal of kicking and cuffing, even by
implication, without kicking and cuffing in turn.”

“Among others that I saw, not to wheedle; not to
intimidate; and, still less to be intimidated by, was a

Mr. Termor. Somehow or other, he had become our
creditor; by endorsement, I believe. I waited upon
him, with the smooth tongued financier, my partner,
bearing the assignment in my hand. Our interview
was short: and much in the following fashion. But
you should first understand, that he is an uneducated,
strong minded vulgar, honest man, of ungovernable
temper, and handsome property. Yet, I dare say, with
a likely heart, as you say in New England.”

“Pardon me, said I, we never apply the word in
that way; we say, a likely man.”

“That paper, said I, (Hammond is speaking,)
handing him the assignment, and laying my hat upon
the desk---contains a relinquishment of all our property,
for the benefit of our creditors. Those who
sign will get their share; those who do not, must take
their chance, and—”

“Why, how now?---What the devil's this? hey?---”
said he.

I repeated the thing, in a very respectful manner----

“Don't understand it---don't understand it—must
(spit) sign it---must I? d---d if I do---. By God,
sir—(spit.)

This was courtly, to be sure; but I was never
much accustomed to tolerate such a carriage, even in
the rich and ignorant. So I told him very plainly,
that, if he expected to get a farthing, he must sign it.”

“Come here,” said he, “d'm it---(spit) come here;
(spit)”

“By---G-d---; come here, and buy my goods---
here---! hey!---must sign, must sign, hey--damn'd if
I do!—”

The blood was starting through the man's face, as
he said this; and I, utterly weary of such vulgarity
and arrogance, looked him, I am afraid, in the eyes,
in a way that did'nt much please him;---replaced my
hat, with a flourish, upon my head, as I did so; and
halted, leisurely, out of his counting room.”

“You can have no idea of his tremendous passion---
after I had gone; and long, and long afterward, it was
near to the bursting of a blood vessel, for him to meet

me, particularly, as he swore that I rode the handsomest
horse in the city, on which I, the “hump-backed
rascal,” as he called me, had well nigh ridden over
him.”

“Nay---he never will forget my parting look, I am
sure; for thrice since, when he had forgotten me, the
resurrection of that, hath shaken him like a battering
engine. Once, I was in the theatre, talking busily,
to some ladies, in a box, next to some other ladies, of
the patrician order, upon whom it was not lawful for
me to set my eyes, except at second hand. Mr. T.
was talking with them. I saw that he was struck
with my countenance (he did not see my person; for I
stood in a shadow, and wore a large blue watch
cloak.) He listened to me, also, with evident pleasure,
though with some perturbation—; and I, like an
experienced coquette, played off my very best conversation,
in such a way, that—why should I deny it—he
appeared astonished, delighted, and willing to talk at
me, as piqued lovers sometimes do, you know, through
a third person—at each other.”

“At last, I saw him lean forward to one of the ladies;
and heard him ask my name.”

“I turned immediately, and lowered my forehead, so
that he could see nothing but the twinkle of my eyes,
with the intention of seeing how he looked, when he
heard her answer.”

“My name was pronounced; and the man absolutely
turned pale, and shook with passion—and shame, I
am sure.”

“And, at another time, when he had forgotten me
again, he saw me enter a court room, where several
persons who, one year before, could not have been
made to know me, were especially polite to me. He
remembered my countenance, but not me; and made
me, before he recollected himself, a most gracious
bow. I knew the man—and, as I returned it, I elevated
my eyes slowly to his, with the very same devil in
them, I am sure, that he had seen, years before, in his
counting room. The blood rushed over his whole
face; and his hands shook upon the table.”

“We have never met since, and, probably, never
shall meet; but, at this very hour, if I wanted a favour,
that I would not ask of any other man, I would
go to him—pretty sure, for he is generous and manly,
that I should not be disappointed.”

“That would depend,” said I, “much upon the nature
of the favour---if you wanted your throat cut
now, or---a halter.”

“O, no, “he replied, smiling; I am very serious.”

En.