Remember, if I have seemed a tiresome egotist long
ere this, you must thank yourself for your curiosity to
hear my adventures, and that you were fairly forewarned
what you had to expect. Nothing material
occurred in my history for some days. My wounds
were healing. My colour and strength returned. I
foresaw that ill health would soon serve me no longer
as a pretext for remaining in this family. As my
health returned, I saw Doña Martha less frequently,
and I thought there was a visible anxiety in her countenance.
I had sometimes almost dared to believe
that she regarded me with partiality apart from any
feelings in relation to her deliverance from captivity.
But when I had almost arrived at an undoubting conviction
of this, the present avoidance of me, apparently
without motive, levelled the fabric of my hopes with
the dust. I vexed myself with suspicions, that she even
took pains to let me see that she could treat Don Pedro
with kindness. He took no pains to disguise his haughtiness
and dislike. As was natural, recurrence was
often made in conversation to the adventure of the deliverance
of Doña Martha. He invariably took occasion,
speaking in Spanish, which I began, however, to understand,
to treat the whole affair as a mere trivial
matter, very common in the history of their intercourse
with the savages; intimating always, that, with such an
incitement as the liberation of the lady in question,
none but the most worthless poltron could have failed
to do the same.

[figure description] Page 110.[end figure description]

I had leisure, during this confinement, to draw portraits
of the principal members of the family. All the
thoughts of the Conde seemed to be engrossed in arranging
the affairs of his government, and in repressing
the incipient spirit of republicanism, in which he seemed
to have had great success. But although every thing
of that kind appeared to be repressed for the moment,
and the march of the government seemed to have regained
the calm and regular ascendency of despotism,
the anxious look of the governor was in perfect accordance
with his declaration, that this spirit in the people
was only as coals buried under ashes, and he predicted
that the flames would soon burst forth again. In these
moments he could not always repress exclamations of
most uncourteous bitterness against the contiguity and
the infectious nature of the example of my country.
He incidentally manifested that he looked to Don Pedro
as one of the most efficient props of his government,
and his future son-in-law. But he appeared too much
occupied, to bestow any particular attention on his private
concerns.

The Condesa still retained the traces of a beautiful
person; she possessed great talents, and her conversation
was rich and interesting. Her eye either flashed
with intelligence, or melted with tenderness; and she
appeared the mellowed and impressive original, of
which the daughter was the fresh and beautiful copy.
In her deportment, and in hers alone, there seemed
nothing like inconstancy or caprice; and she alone
constantly manifested towards me marked and

[figure description] Page 111.[end figure description]

unequivocal partiality, and even tenderness. The father confessor,
whom they called by the name Josephus, was
a priest of high standing in the country, had been
educated at Rome, and had all the external suavity
and observance of a courtier, the training and adroitness
of a jesuit, and a sufficiency of intrigue to have been
minister of the Grand Seignior. His form was noble,
his voice deep and impressive, and every function of
his ministry performed with an indescribable grace.
Seen at a distance, his countenance and manner inspired
respect. Contemplated more nearly and intensely,
there was something in it sinister and repressing to confidence
and affection. He regarded the spirit of the
age, the fermenting germ of republicanism, and the
slightest beginnings of innovation in the Catholic hierarchy,
with a deep aversion, that savoured rather of a
malignant nature, than of the prejudices of education.
In the same proportion as his own enlightened mind
had penetrated the absurdities of those points, which
constitute the incredible and contradictory of the Catholic
dogmas, was he bitter and strenuous, even to persecution,
for retaining every jot and tittle of them in all their
ancient strictness. He entertained for my powers and
acquirements, such as they were, perhaps too much
respect. But for the rest, he regarded me with a
jealousy and distrust, for which, as I had treated him
with uniform deference and consideration, I could hardly
account even on the score of our difference of opinion.
On the whole, he seemed to regard me as dangerous
among the faithful of his flock, on the ground of my
fancied learning and acuteness.

[figure description] Page 112.[end figure description]

The only time in which I saw the countenance of
Doña Martha wholly free from anxiety and chagrin,
and her manner towards me as it had been at the first,
was on an evening when she came into the library
during my confinement, leading up to me, and introducing
with mock gravity her dueña, a character formerly
so indispensable in an ancient Spanish family,
and retained by the Conde out of his stern regard to
the usages of the ancient régime. “Have you never
read a translated Spanish romauce?” said she; “if
you have, permit me to show you the identical character,
called a dueña. This is Doña Dorothea, an
ancient friend of the family, whose duty it is to keep
volatile and perverse young personages, like myself, for
instance, in the right way. She has the hundred eyes
of Argus, and the incorruptible watchfulness of the
dragon that guarded the golden fleece. She is as hard
as adamant, and as little exposed to melting as platina.
So you see, how little danger there is that I should be
allowed to act naughtily, even if I would; and how
little chance there is that I should bestow my poor
hand and heart unworthily.” I could with difficulty
restrain my laughter, when I looked upon the personage
who sustained such a grave office. She was a round,
short, and plump figure, with a most prominent front,
dressed in a short cotton jacket, which showed her fat
and joyous figure to wonderful advantage. Good nature
laughed in her grey eyes and in her ruddy face, which
was almost an exact circle. She was, in fact, an
exact female Sancho Panza. It was obvious that she

[figure description] Page 113.[end figure description]

had availed herself as faithfully of the privileges of
good eating and drinking, and that she was disposed to
allow others to follow their inclinations in these and in
all respects. There was something irresistibly ludicrous,
in supposing such a person set as a guard over
such a young lady, as Doña Martha. The old lady
sustained the gravity of her office but a moment. She
laughed and caressed her young lady, and was gay and
voluble, and threw out her Spanish proverbs, like her
famous predecessor. As she addressed part of her
conversation to me, and spoke in Spanish, that part of
it which I might not be supposed to understand, Martha
translated for my use into French, with true Spanish
gravity. She began by describing the mourning and
desolation about the house, when her dear young lady
was first carried off by the savages, how many masses
were offered, and prayers said for her return; how
stoutly and earnestly herself had supplicated the Virgin
on her account, and how long she had abstained from
flesh and wine, under a vow for her return; that, for
her part, if she had been a man, and a soldier, like
Don Pedro, she would have set out alone, if none
would have gone with her, to fight the savages for her
rescue. “You are the man, after all, for me; for you,
that were not of her country, or religion, fought for her,
while the Don was here at home, mourning, and talking
about her. I have no doubt that he would murder you
at once, if he thought you capable of looking upon her
with the eyes of love. But I learned from my mother,
rest her soul, that love will go where it will go. For my

[figure description] Page 114.[end figure description]

part, I never saw two persons look so much alike, as you
two.” Here the young lady blushed deeply, and ceased
to translate. But I understood almost every word;
and what I did not understand, her laughing eyes and
significant gestures supplied. She turned to the young
lady, “See now,” said she, “how he blushes! In truth,
he looks as grave and simple as a young girl. One
would think he did not know a pretty woman from a
guava. Who would think, that such a blushing and
handsome boy could attack and conquer one of those
terrible savages? I have seen these heretics before.
They have the finest twinkling eyes and ruddy cheeks,
and, I have heard, they are but sad fellows among the
ladies.” At the same time she chucked me familiarly
under the chin, calling me bueno mozo, hoping that I
should become buen catalico, and take one of the young
ladies of the country for a wife.

She seemed sufficiently disposed to proceed in the
same style; but her young lady interposed, and suddenly
resuming her countenance of care, she appeared to
make an effort in addressing me. “We have had enough
of this,” said she. “Now we will have, if you please,
one word of seriousness. You cannot be surprised,
that I think of you with some interest, and that I can
readily imagine how anxious you must be to have some
pursuit and employment. I am told, that all the young
men of your country feel in this way. Different as our
modes of thinking are, I respect such feelings. We are
preparing to depart for Durango. Here we have never
been, and cannot be, at home. My mother has

[figure description] Page 115.[end figure description]

expressed a decided wish, that you should accompany us. You
will receive a visit from my father, proposing terms of
honorable employment with us. Will you deem it forwardness
or gratitude in me, if I add my wishes to those
of my mother, that these terms may prove acceptable
to you? In giving utterance to the purest and simplest of
my feelings, I am sure that you are too noble, too generous,
to misinterpret me. You have youth, intelligence,
spirit, learning; every thing to fit you for such a theatre,
as our unhappy country is just opening. My father
foresees, and it is easy to foresee the murky clouds of
change and rebellion rising on all quarters of our horizon;
and the times call for wise heads, strong hands,
and true hearts. I am sure that our house needs them.
For we have the patriots, as they call themselves, for
enemies on the one hand, and my father has enemies
and competitors even among the royalists; and he has
found, by sad experience, that all is hollow and false
on every side. What a noble career opens for a man
like you! When my mother expressed her wish that
you might remain with us, she remarked, what a soothing
tranquillity she should derive, from knowing that
one true and determined heart would be always near
us.” Much more of a similar import was said, and
having thus prepared me for the visit of her father,
she left me, and the fat and laughing dueña waddled
after her.

Soon after the Conde entered, with something more
of state and gravity than usual on his brow. He began
by congratulating me on my evident restoration to

[figure description] Page 116.[end figure description]

health. “The physician, by whose judgment we are
wholly guided in these cases,” he added, “assures us
that your wounds are so healed, that you may safely go
abroad. I have happily completed the business that
brought me from home to this distant and inconvenient
sojourn. I now propose immediately to return. I
know not, nor would it be proper for me to inquire,
with what views you were residing among the Commanches?
I have understood, that you belonged to a
party from the States, whose object was traffic with the
savages. You probably know in what light we here
consider such expeditions, and the men who are engaged
in them. But we hold you a noble exception.
I will not disguise from you, that I might excite suspicion
by what I am about to propose to you. You are
aware in what light we view your country and religion.
But we have inquired respecting you of the Commanches,
and of the officer and soldiers who saw you in the valley.
Even the savages do justice to your conduct in the
affair with Menko, by which my daughter was liberated.
They say that you only anticipated the vengeance
which themselves would have inflicted upon him
for his treason. They wave all claims for ransom, and
admit that you did right in taking it into your own
hands. That sum, the half of which was delivered
into my hands with my daughter, together with the
effects of Menko, is a considerable fortune. It was forever
lost to me, and, in comparison of my daughter,
never took up a single thought. That is fairly and
decidedly yours, and I am ready to pay it over to you

[figure description] Page 117.[end figure description]

at this moment. But that is not all. It is impossible
that I can ever think of releasing myself from the debt
of obligation to you. I can show you that I wish to do
what is in my power, and I will come to the point.
The Condesa wishes you, if your object is to become
acquainted with our country, to remain in my family,
where you will have access to official information, and
will have every chance to gain this acquaintance. That
you may feel justified to yourself in the possession of
an employment, if you will converse with the father
confessor, and allow him to rectify the errors of your
understanding in regard to religion and our faith, and
pledge your fealty to my government and our king, I
will immediately give you the commission of captain
in the regiment of Don Pedro in our army.” He waited
for my reply.

I thanked him for interesting himself in my welfare.
I assured him that I should be pleased, if it were in my
power, consistently, to accompany his family to Durango.
I proceeded to observe, that I had not had very definite
views in my journey to the Commanches; that I had
been rather inclined to be, what they called in my
country, a roving youth; that so far as I was clear
about my motives, a disposition to wander and see new
regions was the first, and money a secondary, and very
distant one; that if it came by honorable enterprise and
exertion, like the rest of my countrymen, I understood
the value of it; that in attempting the release of his
daughter, I was conscious that my motive was unmixed
with any base alloy of that sort; and that to put the

[figure description] Page 118.[end figure description]

thing out of doubt to myself, as well as others, that it
was so, the success of that action should be its simple
and single reward, and that I hoped he would not hurt
my feelings by ever proposing any other; that I should
be happy to converse with the father confessor, and
should treat him with the deference due to his character
and his office, but that my opinions in regard to
religion and morals, such as they were, were probably
fixed unalterably, and that it was as probable I might
think of converting the father confessor to my views, as
that he would bend mine to his; that to the last proposition,
I could only say, that in a cause that was consonant
to my feelings and principles, no profession would
be so congenial as to hear arms, and that nothing would
delight me so much as to be provided with any honorable
pursuit in his family; but that no consideration,
not even the desire to remain with him, could induce
me to draw a sword in defence of the claims of Ferdinand
VII. upon any part of Spanish America.

He heard me to the close with patient dignity. He
seemed rather surprised than offended, as I feared he
would be, with my rejection of his offers. “There is, in
truth,” said he, “among your people of all classes, a
Spartan stubbornness, that I, as a soldier, know how to
appreciate. But your refusal of money is, indeed, utterly
unlike what I expected from one of your country,
and I think it is out of place in the present instance.
Your republicanism I can pardon, as the prejudice of
your birth and country. I love a man not the less for
being true to his country. As it regards your faith,

[figure description] Page 119.[end figure description]

I well know that we cannot change it when we will.
All I request of you with respect to the father confessor,
I am sure you will grant, and that is, the deference due
to his character and office. He is a wise and a learned
man. I am not dissatisfied with your inflexibility of
character. It effectually vindicates you from one charge,
that has been brought against you. I wish to retain
you in my fumily. The man who is true and unchanging
in so many points, will be true to whatever confidence
I may repose in him. I hope we shall persuade
you to go with us.”

“Show me any useful and honorable occupation,” I
replied, “and I will go with the greatest pleasure. I
think, too, that you might count on my fidelity, Never,
since I left my native place, have I seen the family
where I would feel so happy to remain, if I might do it,
and be useful, and retain self-respect.” “There is one
thing more,” he replied, “that strikes me upon this subject.
I will consider that point with my family, and
converse with you again upon this matter before my
departure.”

I had in this family an unknown, but faithful friend,
in an Irish Catholic servant, named Bryan O'Flaherty.
He had been absent, it seems, and he now introduced
himself to me with a box of books, which, it appeared,
had been brought for me by the Spanish officer, who
had been sent to escort back Doña Martha from the
Commanche valley. The Red Heifer had collected
these, my drawings, and every thing that appertained to
to me, and, together with a letter from the captain of

[figure description] Page 120.[end figure description]

our party to the Spanish country, had, with considerate
kindness, sent them on with the other baggage to
Santa Fe, hoping that I would return, and accept of
the honor she intended me. I was affected with this
distinguished kindness to a recreant, who seemed so
little capable of returning it. Bryan laid down the box
with a low bow; and I contemplated his laughing Irish
face, his brightly florid complexion, and his yellow
locks, with satisfaction; for I saw that he was not
Spanish, and could probably speak my native tongue.
“Now,” said he, “begging your honor's pardon, speak
so much as one little word in the king's English. It
is such a weary while since I have heard a word of
it.” I thanked him for his kindness in bringing my
books, and expressed myself pleased to find a member
of the family who could speak my mother tongue.
“Ar'n't you the jewel, now?” said he. “It's many the
long year that I've heard never a word of that sort
before. Oh! but your honor has the true Irish face,
and speaks in the right fashion. I have been in a hot
fever to see you, ever since I have heard you was here.
Now, may be, I don't know a thing or two about this
family.” He came close to me, and let his voice fall
almost to a whisper. “Do you know what a bother
they have been making about you down stairs?” He
paused, as if waiting for me to ask him to proceed. I
felt, it is true, a strong curiosity to hear on what cause
I could have been the theme of conversation. Decorum
forbade me to gratify that curiosity, by questioning
a servant. Finding that he must go on without any

[figure description] Page 121.[end figure description]

request, or be silent. “Ah!” he proceeded, “your Honor
has the grand way now, and I dare say your Honor
is as true as steel. Well, then, I love you for your looks,
and the tongue that is in your head; and, by St. Patrick,
I love all that the sweet Martha loves; and if she don't
love your Honor, there is no devil!” “Do you think
so, my lad?” said I. “Ay,” he returned, “I thought
I could bring your Honor to your tongue. The sweet
Martha was in tears. The Conde was in a fret. The
good, kind Condesa threw in for you as much as she
dared. But there is father Josephus—he is of my
father's worship, to be sure. But, may be, I don't
know him, for all his sanctified airs. And there was
the young Don, with his grim face, and his big airs,
and, devil burn their boots, no good of ye did they
say. `Well,' says I, `this man has my mother's tongue
in his head. He has shed his own blood, to kill a
heathen savage, and has brought our sweet Martha
home, Heaven brighten her two eyes; and by those
tears, she belikes him,' says I, `or I don't know the
taste of a potatoe. The man,' says I, `I dare say is
a pretty man, though he may believe neither in the
Virgin, nor St. Patrick.' So I stands your friend in my
heart. I opens both my ears, and the more they told
me to hush, the more I remembered every word.
When I was out, round Doll, the dueña, hears the rest,
and we both put what we heard together. Jesus! what
a botheration they made, and all about you! They
rumbled it out in Spanish; but Doll and I heard every
word.” Here he paused, in hopes now to have raised

[figure description] Page 122.[end figure description]

curiosity, to have me question him to proceed. I was
determined to leave him to himself, to speak or be
silent, though I saw no harm in hearing what he had to
say. “Now only look,” said he. “Your Honor burns
to hear, but says never a word. You shall hear all.
The Conde said, you talked big; and that all your
people are as stiff as asses. But it raised your Honor
mightily in all their eyes, that you would have none of
the money. The Conde stuck to it against them all,
that you was no common man, and he sware his biggest
Spanish oath, that he believed you was a true, rale
jantleman. The father confessor, roast him! said that
he thought you an orange-man, and a bad heretic, and
so much the worse, that you was knowing, and was
handsome enough to pervert all the young girls in the
region. How much has he swayed the Condesa and
her daughter already! Then he commanded them in
the name of their holy mother, the church, to discard
you from their thoughts. They both looked so sweet
in his cross face, devil roast him, and begged him not
to think it a sin, that they esteemed you for your valor
and truth. `And these,' said he, in his deep voice, and
looking this fashion, `and these are just the baits by
which the devil lures away the hearts of the faithful in
the form of heresy.' The young Don bounced about
the while, like a roasted chestnut, and said that your
Honor had tried to steal away the heart of the sweet
Martha. And then her eyes sparkled, as though she
would have lightened upon him; and then she told him
that you was all truth and honor, and as incapable of

[figure description] Page 123.[end figure description]

trying to do that, as she was to allow it; and that you
had too much courage and generosity to abuse the
absent. Then he was cross back again, and said, `That
is the way that the fellow veigles you all with his big
airs,' and that he meant to call you out, and teach you
the difference between fighting a christian jantleman,
and a poor Indian. At this word, Martha brushed away
her tears, and, may be, she did'nt give him a look!
`Very like, Don Pedro,' says she, `you think that would
be the way to raise yourself in my esteem. It would
be quite the pretty return to the only man, who dared
expose himself to rescue me from a condition worse
than death.' And then she drew up grand, this way;
and she looked wild, and her eyes glistened, the jewel.
And she says, `Now hear me all. I know that my father
is too great and noble, to be set against a man that has
done so much for me, by any of you. I have my
father's spirit in me. Treat him badly, and you will
make me love him. I owe my father deference and
obedience, but none of you can command the heart.'
Your Honor, I remember every word. And then she
went on to say, that if you would treat him with kindness,
she would make any vow, never to think of your
Honor. Says I to myself, `Ay, my dear! but you're
not a thousand years old yet.' But that if you drove
him away from a family that owed him so much, she
should hate Don Pedro for ever, and that it would go
farther to make her a heretic, than any thing else. All
this while the sweet girl had been screwed up; and
then she burst into an agony of tears, and I know not

[figure description] Page 124.[end figure description]

what happened, for they drove me out of the room.
But round Doll says, that the Conde snivelled and the
Condesa, and that Don Pedro and the father were
glad to clear themselves, and so your Honor seems to
have the day among them. And since that, I have
seen the priest and the young man look in the Conde's
face, and, by Jesus, mum was the word; for he looks
as dark as thunder. God love your Honor for speaking
English, and looking like an Irishman. And what do
you think the Condesa says? She says, `Bryan, I think
he will go with us to Durango; and if he does, Bryan,
you shall be his servant.”'

At supper, as Bryan had related, every face was
either clouded or sad. The Condesa and her daughter
made efforts to seem calm, and as though nothing had
happened. But the traces of the recent storm were
sufficiently visible in the countenances of the rest. I
have reason to think, that I seemed the most unmoved
among them. After supper I was left alone with the
Conde. He resumed the former conversation apparently
with cordiality. “I have been thinking,” said
he, “of your wish to find employment, and of your
expressed willingness to reside in my family. It occurs
to me and to the Condesa, that there is such here, and
just such, as fits the case. Let me premise one thing.
My daughter is young, ardent, inexperienced. She
is destined for Don Pedro. We have all, her mother,
my daughter, myself, an entire confidence in you.
She has seemed more backward in meeting our views
there, than I could have wished. I have but this one,

[figure description] Page 125.[end figure description]

and she is the light of my eyes. I would be glad not
to force her inclinations. Women are naturally wilful.
She leads us to think, that kindness to you will be the
readiest way to bring her inclinations to this union.
You will understand our views, and if you cannot further
them, we confide in your honor that you will not impede
them. Thus much premised, I proceed to observe, that
we some time since made inquiries for a person suitably
qualified for an English instructer. My daughter is
sufficiently versed in French and Italian, and has long
wished to add English to her acquirements. There
are some other young ladies in Durango, associates of
my daughter's, who will join to form a class, and Don
Pedro will be of the number. The time, the mode,
and the compensation shall be settled by yourself. Will
you consent to take charge of such a class?” I thanked
him, of course, and told him that, at first view, it
seemed precisely the employment which I should have
chosen, and that I wished only the succeeding night for
consideration, and would give him an answer in the
morning.

The evening was one of preparation, for the family
proposed the next day to commence their journey for
Durango. A royal regiment of troops in fine uniform
and discipline had arrived from Durango, and had
pitched their tents on the square, as an escort for the
Conde on his journey. The militia of the country had
been pouring into the town through the afternoon.
They were fantastically fine in their array, and made
more noise and display, than the regular troops. The

[figure description] Page 126.[end figure description]

bugle, the drum and fife, and occasionally a full band
mixed their martial notes. The hum of the lounging
multitudes, who were idly busy in looking upon this
scene of preparation, was heard on all sides. Great
numbers of the provincial officers, and of private
gentlemen with their families, were in waiting to take
leave of the Conde. A fête of illumination and refreshments
was prepared for the occasion. There was a
public supper, at which I sat down with more than a
hundred people. After supper there was a promenade
in the public garden attached to the palace, and the
family of the Conde enjoyed their friends and the delightful
coolness of the evening in the garden. It was there
that the citizens and public functionaries were to take
leave of the governor. I received a card of invitation
to share the walk with the family. Every walk and
alley of the garden was occupied by great numbers of
the nobility and gentry of the province. The garden
was brilliantly illuminated. The varieties of beautiful
trees and shrubs, most of them new to me, with their
luxuriant and African foliage, gilded with the flickering
rays from an hundred lamps, the lofty palms, that
mounted into the air beyond the radiance of the illumination,
that were half seen in light, and half dimly and
indistinctly in shade, produced a most striking effect
upon the eye. The country has a variety of birds that
sing in the night, and they seemed to enjoy the splendor
of the illumination with exultation, and to swell their
little throats with hilarity. Every thing conspired to
produce that train of sentiments, that thrilled every

[figure description] Page 127.[end figure description]

nerve with delightful, but melancholy sensation. I know
not why, but I thought deeply, almost painfully, of
home, and of infancy, and of that circle of which I was
a part, and where I was of consequence. Here circumstances
had established a kind of standing for me;
but I was a stranger, rather endured, than desired, at
least by a part of the family. Of the numerous groups
that were chatting, and walking and enjoying themselves
in all the intimacy of acquaintance, I knew not
one; and of those that passed me, and made the inquiry
of transient curiosity about me, it was sufficient with
most of them to bound their interest, to know that I was
a heretic, and an inhabitant of the States. I wandered
to the farthest extremity of the garden, where a beautiful
little brook cha&longs;ed over the pebbles, and fell into a
deep basin in the corner of the garden. In this basin,
so smooth, that it reflected every thing like a mirror,
the lights of the sky, of the garden, and the moon, over
which fleecy clouds were sailing with a gentle breeze,
and the acacias and catalpas, with their stems all
tufted with flowers, were seen shooting into the still
depths their reflected brightness and beauty. Here I
seated myself on a bench to enjoy the scene, and to
meditate, and fix my purpose for the morrow. My
thoughts wandered. Before I could combine and arrange
the elements of the calculation, my thoughts had
escaped a thousand leagues from the subject in hand.
To concentre thought, and fix the mind, external nature,
especially if beautiful, must be excluded. Imagination
at present was too busy for reason and judgment.

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Nature was too enticing, and the air too full of the
ambrosia of the catalpas, and the breeze too bland, for
the operation of painful thinking. I fell involuntarily
into my habit of reverie. The drudgery and vexation
necessary to sustain the grosser elements of our existence,
the contemptible, and yet impassable barriers
erected between kindred minds by birth, habit, riches,
country, religion, “to stay, or not to stay” in a family,
where all these barriers existed between me and its
members, and where, if I might flatter myself that I
had some interest with some of them, I knew I was
only upon sufferance with the rest, that was the question.
It may be foreseen, how pride and independence
would, perhaps ought, to settle the question. There
was another efficient element in the calculation, which
had, I doubt not, its influence at that time, unknown to
myself. Vanity whispered that a certain member of
the family betrayed, against herself, a strong desire that
I should stay. But I reflected, how often and how bitterly
would they make me feel that they considered me
a heretic, poor, and an adventurer. How often must I
endure the insolent haughtiness of Don Pedro, and suffer
from the deeper plottings of the father confessor. Then
the beauty of the evening would withdraw my thoughts
from this painful subject of meditation. I heard the
sparrow, the red-bird, the mocking-bird pouring their
little hearts into their song. I looked up to the dome
of that grand temple of nature,


“The sky,
Spread, like an ocean hung on high,

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Bespangled with those isles of light,
So wildly, spiritually bright.
Who ever saw them brightly shining,
And turn'd to earth without repining;
Nor wish'd for wings to soar away,
And mix with their eternal ray?”
As I applied these beautiful lines in thought to the feelings
of the moment, the Condesa and her daughter,
disengaged from the company with which I had seen
them walking, came round in front of the basin. I
moved to resign my seat to them. “No,” said the
Condesa, “sit still, and allow us to share your seat,
and the benefit of your lonely meditations. It appears
to me, that your temperament inclines you too much to
solitude. It seems wrong, that solicitude and care
should anticipate the effect of years, and touch such a
fresh countenance as yours.” “Loneliness, Madam,”
I answered, “is not painful to me. But they, who
should infer from seeing me much alone, that I was
occupied by profound or painful thought, would look
too deep for the cause. I would claim nothing more
for this taste, than the simple merit that belongs to it.
I am, Madam, by nature a dreamer with my eyes open.
If I might be permitted to record my early habits,
the first pleasures of my existence, that I remember,
were, in the vernal and autumnal north-eastern storms
of the Atlantic region, where I was bred, when the
wind howled, and the trees were bending under the
gale, and the mist and sleet poured along in sweeping
columns, to repair to the shore of the sea, in the height
of the storm. Here I would sit for hours,

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regardless of the elements, listentng to the roar of the winds,
and marking the dashing of the spray, as it mixed with
the white mist of the sky. With what pleasure I saw
the billowy mountains roll in to the shore, and burst
against the cliffs! And then, to see them retire again,
and leave the deep and black caverns of the rocks
exposed to view, and to watch the return of the enormous
and dashing surge,—such were my earliest and
most intense enjoyments. My friends, even then, used
to chide me for foolish exposure, or to pity me as one
addicted to gloom and melancholy. It was in vain that
I told them that these were the happiest moments of
my life. My tastes were not theirs, and they could not
account for them. My mind at present, I would hope,
has somewhat enlarged the range of its thought, and
the number of its combinations. But I am now as
much addicted to this dreamy existence as ever. I
would not proudly say with the great ancient, `Never
less alone, than when alone;' for I am not sure, that
this indulgence of musing and reverie is favorable to
thinking. I only know, that it is favorable to enjoyment.
I never flattered myself that I possessed the
genius of Rousseau; and I am sure that I have always
detested many of his opinions. But when he tells with
so much naïveté of his disposition to dream with his
eyes open; when he speaks of committing himself to
his open skiff in that sweet lake, throwing himself at
his length on its bottom, raising his eyes to the sky, and
floating at the will of the breeze, and losing hours with
no other recollections, than the pleasurable

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consciousness of existence, he describes a taste, absurd as you
may deem it, precisely like mine.”

“You describe to me,” she replied, “the mind of a
very romantic, but not a bad young man. I have the
more indulgence for such follies, as, at your time of life,
I was much addicted to them myself. Delightful days!
I never tire of looking back upon my visions, when the
world, existence, every thing was as a romance. We all
learn the difference soon enough, between the sweet
visions of youth, and the sad reality of actual existence.”
I replied, that I suspected there was a sufficient leaven
of romance in my composition to unfit me for the hard
struggle and the dry competition of actual existence.
“I have been so often and so bitterly reproved for indulging
these dreaming propensities, have heard the
maxim so often circulated, that we are placed on the
earth to act, and not to dream, that I have ended by
doubting the innocence of this propensity, and have
striven to conquer it. If you say, Madam, that you
have felt the same propensities, you will reconcile me
to myself. It was, I suspect, the indulgence of this
original propensity, that brought me to this region, so
remote from my native country. I was always delighted
with books of voyages and travels. I sail with the
voyager. I journey with the traveller. I clamber with
him over his snowy mountains, or enjoy the boundless
horizon of his plain. I float down the interminable
river with the wanderer of the Mississippi. I have
heard your daughter quote Chateaubriand. Some
passages in his travels are to me of the highest order of

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poetry, and abundant aliment for day-dreams. Nothing
can be more delightful than some of those periods,
where he relates his impressions in the midst of the
magnificence and boundlessness of the savage nature of
our forests, when the moon arises upon them, and
diffuses over them the great secret of melancholy. I
might instance that passage, that even the hypercritics
have admitted was so beautiful, in the Génie du Christianisme,
`Description d'une belle Nuit, dans les Forêts
du Nouveau Monde,' and many others in the romance of
Attala. But I recur incessantly to one that scarcely
has been named, but which strikes me still more.
`Pour nous, amant solitaire de la nature, et simple
confesseur de la Divinité, nous nous sommes assis sur
ces ruines. Voyageur sans renom, nous avons causé
avec ces débris, comme nous mêmes ignorés. Les
souvenirs confus des hommes, et les vagues reveries du
désert se mêlaient au fond de nôtre âme. La nuit
était au milieu de sa course; tout était muet, et la
lune, et les bois, et les tombeaux. Seulement à longs
intervalles on entendait la chûte de quelque arbre, que
la hache du tems abattait dans la profondeur des forêts;
ainsi tout tombe; tout s'anéantit.'[1] Doña Martha

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here remarked, with some earnestness, “You have
proved, Sir, that, differently as we have been bred,
there is a striking coincidence in our taste. My mother
knows how much I was delighted with that very passage
which you have quoted, the one to which you have
referred, and another at the commencement of the
chapter, entitled `Spectacle Général de l'Univers.' Indeed
I was never able to discover why that eloquent
book, `Génie du Christianisme,' was so generally condemued.
To me it says much, and strongly and beautifully,
for religion. He often speaks to my heart.
There are in it some of the most eloquent passages,
and some of the most impressive sentences of that
beautiful prose poetry, which seems peculiar to the
French. But I have yet, Sir, to discover the connexion
between the admiration of these passages, and that
determination, which brought you into our country.”
I answered, “Such passages, particularly that, `une
belle nuit,' &c. gave me back more beautifully the
image of my own thoughts. I was determined to converse
with nature alone in those prairies, and those
boundless deserts, that he so delightfully painted to my
imagination. I could not hope to find these places,
except in the western regions of my own country, and
that part of yours contiguous to them. My journey
from the Mississippi to this place has, thus far, more
than realized my images. I worshipped in all the

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forms of nature, from the lonely and inaccessible swamp
of the Mississippi, the abode of gloom and fever, and
vocal only with the notes of the owl, and the howling
of wolves, to the extended plantation, with its mansion,
surrounded by the little village of hovels, and from
the region of plantations, to the grassy sea of the
prairies, and the sublime scenery of yonder chain of
mountains, to the beautiful valley, in which dwelt the
ruthless, but primitive Commanches; a place so exquisitely
beautiful in its scenery, that even your daughter,
under all the gloom and apprehension of her residence
there, felt that beauty; to this place, where all
the contrasts of social and primitive life, of wealth and
poverty, refinement and simplicity, are brought side by
side. I have had exquisite enjoyment from these sources.
Providence has opened to me sources of moral satisfaction
in the chain of events, which brought me acquainted
with your daughter, which I would not have exchanged
for any other the world could have offered me. Come
what will, I shall always rejoice that I became a wanderer,
and that Providence has brought me here.”

“This brings me,” added the Condesa, “to the point
that has been on my mind from the first. You delight
to journey. You have been advertised that we depart
to-morrow for Durango. It is a beautiful country between
this and that place. The Conde has made a proposition
to you to accompany us. You have promised him an
answer in the morning. May we not hope, that you
will consent to go with us? If I thought you like other
young men, I should not dare to tell you how much I

[figure description] Page 135.[end figure description]

desire it. The people in this country are so wild,
ignorant, and uneducated, and at the present moment
we are surrounded by so many enemies, visible
and invisible, so many dangers of every sort, rebellion,
treason, discord, the savages, that you can hardly
conjecture how my confidence goes out towards a
young man, educated, principled, high-minded, and, to
use Bryan's expression, `as true as steel.' Indeed,
we hope you will go with us. I do not disguise that
you will have to encounter prejudices. But I have a
presentiment that you will triumph over them all. You
do not talk of returning to your own country. Ah!
you must have felt, in all the pride of youth, as you
are, that you need a mother. I will be as a mother to
you. Could you but renounce your errors! Could you
but have accepted a commission from my husband,
there is nothing that you might not have hoped. But,
heretic and republican as you are, both the Conde and
myself have the most undoubting confidence in you.
Only stay with us, and you will become gradually trained
to our ways, and finally become one of our people.”

I replied, that if I were to consult my inclinations,
I should not need the additional motive of her wishes,
so affectionately expressed, to decide me. But that I
felt all the obstacles of a different nation and religion,
and felt their peculiar pressure under the existing circumstances
of the country; that under such circumstances,
it would not be honorable to me to stay, without
a sufficient and respectable employment, that would
furnish me a vocation, that would justify me to myself

[figure description] Page 136.[end figure description]

in staying; that I much feared that this proposition, to
employ me to teach English in the family, was merely
got up to satisfy me with myself, and as a kind of compensation
for supposed services.

“Far from it,” she replied. “Our relations with
England and with your country are daily increasing.
Notwithstanding the prejudices of religion and country,
we are getting more and more in the habit of learning
English. We made efforts to obtain a suitable teacher,
before we became acquainted with you. It is no new
fancy of my daughter's and mine.”

“I perceive,” said Martha, “that you need a great
deal of inducement, and that we have to labor to bring
it about, as they do to induce a young lady to sing.
But even at the hazard of ministering to vanity, I shall
not fear to add my wishes to my mother's. You have
been still talking about your wish to find employment.
You will not deny that this is respectable, nor that you
are qualified. Let us hope, Sir, that you will shorten
the matter, and put an end to our suspense, and stay.
You do not know what a diligent pupil I shall be. You
will have two charming pupils, beside myself, and a
third extremely rich, and Don Pedro, a royal officer,
and so forth. Besides, if you will promise to be good
and docile, we will teach you our language in return.”
All this was uttered in grave and set phrase. But
there was a certain arch expression in her eye, which
placed all this to the account of mock gravity. But
apart from all this, there was a certain air of supplication
in her appearance and countenance, that weighed

[figure description] Page 137.[end figure description]

still more with me to accept the proposal, than even the
maternal kindness of her mother.

I remarked, that I felt a strong desire to see more of
a country, which was so little known in the States;
that no better opportunity could ever offer me, to visit
its interior under favorable circumstances. I thought
I was competent to the employment in question; that
I should depend much upon their indulgence to a
stranger, who could know so little of their manners;
that I should trust to their friendship to put me right,
when I was in the way of making mistakes. “I will
accept of it,” said I, “and do the best that I can. I
am not a little swayed to this decision by the motive
which Dona Martha has suggested, that while I am
teaching her my language, I shall also be learning hers.
I must be a very dull pupil, not to catch the true Castilian
from such an instructress.” This little fetch at a
compliment, escaped me almost unconsciously. I regretted
it, when I saw that it drew blushes from the
one, and created grave looks in the other. But after a
momentary pause, the Condesa added, with the same
maternal air, “We are of the old fashion, and hope
that you will always dispense with compliments, and
treat us with plain sincerity. In acceding to my proposition,
you have removed from my mind a weight of
uneasiness. We were fearful that you would carry your
feelings of independence to the point of pride, and
that you would be governed by sentiments of self-respect
that were impracticable. One word more, and
we will drop the conversation. You can readily imagine

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the bearings of the relation which you will sustain
among us, and that all eyes that will be upon you, will
not be as mine. Only calculate at times what construction
can be put upon innocent actions. For the
rest, it is precisely because I have no fear that any
thing will make you swerve from the right path, that I
have become a kind of guaranty for you with those who
have supposed, that it might be hazardous to entrust
such a charge to such a young man. You see, that I
deal with you with maternal frankness, and I have not a
fear of the result. But I perceive it is too cool for us
to sit still. Let us take a turn in the garden. It is
not such a one as I will show you at my own house,
but still it is pretty, and the evening is delightful.” She
accepted my arm, and we wandered round the mazes
of the garden, at every turn inhaling a new perfume
of flowers, or taking a new view, set off with all the
mild and magic brilliance of a full and unclouded moon.
All restraint was removed by the place and circumstances,
and the recent understanding with each other.
The conversation, flowing from the deep sources, where
restraint and formality so often confine it, became cordial,
frank, and exhilirating. We were mutually getting
more into the tone of people of one family, when a
message from a family of consequence, who wished to
take leave of the Condesa, called her from us, and left
me alone with the daughter. It cannot be doubted,
that such a situation must have been to me a desirable
one. But I found myself timid and silent, for the good
reason, that nothing occurred for me to say. I had

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supposed, that I should be at least as fluent as I had
been, when we were journeying from the Commanches.
I felt, indeed, tied up by the inviolable laws of honor
and confidence, and had not an idea of attempting to
make love to the beautiful Spanish girl. I had scarcely
searched, whether I felt an impulse to do it. I was
certain that she would have frowned upon any approaches
to such a strain. But I had taken it for
granted, that somehow our conversation would have
assumed a confidential character. But the moment
that we were alone with the moon, and amidst jessamines
and roses, and she leaning on my arm, alas! I
might say, with Virgil, Vox faucibus hæsit. My voice
clung to my mouth. An extinguisher seemed to be
clapped upon my thoughts, as well as words. The
very arm that sustained her trembled. “This,” thought
I, “is a strange case. I must inquire into it, before it
becomes an universal palsy.” I was mortified, too, to
find that she was much less afflicted in this way than
I was. She now and then made a remark, to which I
replied by the significant monosyllable Yes, or No.
This soon ceased, and we walked back and forward
among the bowers in profound silence. We saw the
father confessor and Don Pedro walking together at
the head of the alley. This restored speech to her.
“We shall have, I hope,” said she, “a pleasant journey
together. Oh! that it were to be like that from the
valley.” Saying this, she wished me bon soir, and
tripped away.

eaf100v1.n1

[1] `For me, a solitary lover of nature, and a simple confessor
of the Divinity, I have sat down among these ruins. A traveller,
unknown to fame, I have conversed with these mouldering
monuments, as unknown as myself. Confused recollections of
men, and the vague reveries of the desert, were mingled in the
recesses of my soul. The night was in the midst of her course.
Every thing was silent, the moon, the woods, and the tombs. Only
at long intervals was heard the fall of some tree, which the axe
of time had cut down in the depth of the forests. Thus every thing
falls. Thus every thing returns to nothing.'

CHAPTER V.

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We were awakened at three in the morning by the
ringing of bells, the blowing of bugles, and the noise
and bustle of preparation for the journey. Squadrons
of horse, with their heavy and measured trampling, gallopped
backwards and forwards. I was aroused by my
good friend, Bryan, who told me, how glad he was that
I was to be along with them. He brought me a billet
from the Conde, to whom I had notified, by the Condesa,
my acceptance of his proposition, politely expressing
his satisfaction on that account, and proposing
different arrangements for my comfort on the journey,
among other things, requesting me to avail myself of
the services of Bryan. He, on his part, was in raptures,
and poured out the expressions of his satisfaction with
true Irish hilarity. I left a letter for my companions,
intimating the new course I had taken, and making
arrangement for the disposal of my proportion of the
dividend of profits. I mounted the fine horse which I

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had taken from Menko, and Bryan rode mine. The
Condesa and her daughter, Don Pedro and the father
confessor, rode in the family coach. The Conde rode
on his fine grey charger at the head of his troops.
As we past the family, Don Pedro had just assisted
the Condesa and her daughter into the carriage, and
was getting in himself. Bryan rode close to me, and
said, in a low tone, “Now God bless your Honor, that
is provoking. See that swarthy fellow! scorch his black
whiskers! He is going to live in clover. And they
just stuff the sweet Martha beside the polecat, like a
pig in a bag. Ay! but if she had her own heart's content,
she 'd not be there. Never mind, my master.
Every dog has his day.”

The array was soon in marching order. The band
struck up a slow and solemn march—almost a funereal
strain—a Spanish martial air of parting. The trampling
of horses disturbed the stillness of the night, and the
impression of the music and the scene thrilled through
my frame. Who can account for such a deep feeling
from circumstances, which, at another time, would have
produced no feeling at all? Our place was among the
advanced guard. We now passed through deep and
still forests; then splashed through swamps and streams.
Now we scrambled up precipitous hills; and then descended
upon the interminable grassy plains. There can
be nothing that stirs and animates the spirit more deeply,
than a ride in the brisk and cool air of the morning,
and amidst a great body of horse, swiftly moving forward
to the trumpet, the bugle, and a full band. Were

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I a general, I should choose that my troops should make
their attacks, just before Aurora was dispensing briskness
and gaiety in advance of her rising throne.

The morning dawned upon us, as we came upon the
Rio del Norte at the Parso. The river is here of
very considerable width, but white with its furious current
dashing among rocks. The scenery is most whimsically
and delightfully wild and romantic. A village
is never seen to so much advantage, as just when the
sun is rising, and the mist uncurling its white drapery,
and unshrouding the roofs, the spire, the mill, and
slowly rolling to the summits of the hills. How sweetly
the smoke raises its spiral curls from the humble sheds
of the villagers! The clink of the blacksmith's hammer,
the hum of the mill, mixing with the hundred sounds of
animals, and of peaceful and village life, at this moment
are to me inexpressibly cheering. The alluvions of
this noble and romantic river are covered with vines,
from which is made the delicious wine of the Parso.
Husbandry is here managed by irrigation. In this arid
soil and burning climate, there is, in a landscape vivified
by irrigation, a charm, which no language can paint.
Nature furnishes us with the means to create this rich
scenery, and seems to delight to put us to toil in the
use of them. The freshness and luxuriance of this
artificial landscape far transcends any freshness and
beauty which nature produces of herself in her most
indulgent mood. Each garden and patch had its own
little rill of the most limpid water. The verdure, the
prodigious grandeur and strength of the vegetation

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contrasted so much the stronger with the red, sterile, and
scorched hills, by which we descended to this alluvion.

At this place we had more of the bustle of militia
parade. Our morning militia escort left us here, and
returned to Santa Fe, and was replaced by new troops
from the vicinity of the Parso. We halted in this village
for breakfast. The order of march for the remainder
of the day was here reversed. We, who had
been thus far in advance, were now to be in the rear.
In falling back for this arrangement, the Conde's family
passed us. The morning was bright and warm. The
glasses of the carriage and the curtains were raised,
and I had the mortification to see Doña Martha squeezed
on the same bench with the tall, stern, and swarthy
young Don, looking, as Bryan described it, `as grim as
a death's head.' Not even the enviable place he occupied,
could smooth his moody brow. This fellow had
always looked on me with lowering countenance from
the first. I confess I felt a singular twinge of ill feeling
towards him, as I saw them pass. It was something
like that bitter sensation, which is vulgarly called heart-burn,
or acidity, and for which they give chalk and
lime-water. “Is this,” said I again to myself, “is this
that terrible disorder, in its commencement, called love,
and in this case, silly love, without hope, or the chance
of return? Let us look to this thing. The symptoms
are bad. What will the fixed disorder be? And is
this the feeling of envy and jealousy?” I aroused myself,
looked at the sweet landscape, and felt the bright

[figure description] Page 144.[end figure description]

sun. I sat down at the table, determined to make a
full breakfast, and take a glass of wine. I realized that
we are best capable of self-control upon a full stomach.
My head swam a little, as I saw the young man of
whiskers lead out the Doña Martha. The heart-burn
twinged for a moment. I followed them, mounted my
horse, and said, firmly, “Not guilty, upon my honor!”
And I felt better for the effort.

The country between the Parso and Durango was
sufficiently pleasant, though destitute of the wildness
and sublimity of the country in the vicinity of the Commanches.
Red and precipitous hills, extensive grassy
plains, ragged villages, full of a mixed race of people,
composed of Spanish, Indian, and Negroe, recurred in
succession. We had still in the distance the blue outline
of mountains. We passed through Chihuahua, and
Mont el Rey, considerable towns. We were regularly
in advance in the morning, and in the rear in the evening.
I as regularly caught a glimpse of Doña Martha,
seated beside her silent and stern admirer. I made
some acquaintance with the officers of the Spanish
regiment. No one of them spoke French, but Colonel
Arredondo, and of him I shall have occasion to speak
hereafter. Of course my intimacy with the rest went
no farther than the common forms of civility. There
was a marked jealousy towards me, which I placed to
the score of my country. Such a kind of cavalcade is
apt to be very barren of incident, and ours was so. I
regularly exchanged salutations with the Conde, who
simply inquired of me, how I found the journey.

[figure description] Page 145.[end figure description]

I spoke but twice with the Condesa and her daughter.
I found Bryan to possess a cleverness and a fund of
vivacity and amusement beyond all price.

It was high noon when we entered the city of Durango,
whose spires I had seen glittering in the distance
for some leagues. Before we arrived here, various circumstances
reminded us, that we were in a rich mining
district. At the haciendas, amidst mud-walled cabins,
and filth, and meanness, and the squalidness of poverty,
and the coarsest and clumsiest furniture, we often saw
the domestic vessels and utensils of massive silver. Now
and then we passed the mansion of a fortunate miner,
and the luxurious arrangements, the ostentatious display,
had its peculiar effect upon the eye, in the contrast
with the mean cottages and the primitive and savage
nature around it. The city itself presented the same
striking contrast of magnificence and littleness, of splendor
and meanness, of palaces and hovels. On one
hand was the vast cathedral, with its dome, and columns,
its silver shrine, its ornaments inlaid with gold and sparkling
with gems, and its fine paintings, beside miserable
daubs of St. Michael and his dragon; on the other, palaces
surrounded by their orangeries, and cool with the
dash of fountains, playing into basins of marble; and the
gorgeous display of temples, and peristyles, and columns,
and baths, all this ostentation of luxury, towering above
filthy and mud-walled cabins. The rational part of
the city was like the architectural. Here were men in
the richest dresses, and their ladies gaily adorned and
sparkling with diamonds, and a moving mass of life by

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their side, clad in leather jackets, and dirty red baize
shirts. Such was the first aspect of the wealthy city of
Durango, the centre of a very rich mining district, and
of an episcopate, with a population of thirty thousand
souls.

I omit the circumstances of the Conde's reception
here in the central city of his government. I am not
expert at the description of these things. You can
imagine the vivas, the noise, and ringing of bells, and
the firing of cannon, and the parade of large bodies of
raw, country militia, who were fine, and expert in
managing horses. It was sufficiently imposing, and had
a kind of barbaric splendor, which brought strongly
and painfully to my recollection the same kind of display
in my own country. I remembered the clean,
healthy, and well dressed crowds of people on such
occasions, all so alike in their appearance. I recollected
the long and martial lines of uniformed soldiers.
And, more than all, I compared the aspect of this rabble
of slaves with the lofty port and firm tread of those
masses of freemen, who carry their diploma in their
countenance.

Immediately upon passing the town, we entered upon
the Conde's estate. A private road led us along an
avenue, shaded with catalpas and China trees, and the
stone cottages had a neatness and uniformity, very
different from any thing I had yet seen in the country.
The road itself was a curiosity in its kind, and wound
round the bases of fine slopes, covered with luxuriant
vines, patches of tobacco and wheat, groves of orange, fig,

[figure description] Page 147.[end figure description]

and other fruit trees; and the very air was perfumed with
bowers of the cape jessamine. That singular and most
splendid shrub, which the French call pite, and which
is, I believe, a species of the cactus, made in some
places an impenetrable wall; for no animal will brave
the steely and poisonous thorns that terminate its stems.

Through such an avenue we rode five or six miles,
until a sharp turn in the road cleared us of the hills,
and opened to our view the columns in front of the
massive and turreted stone mansion of the Conde, embowered
in the shade of huge sycamores, that reared
their white arms as high as the turrets. Amidst these
ancient bowers it occupied the centre of a gentle eminence.
A lawn of many acres, turfed with the perfect
verdure of the blue grass, sloped to the bank of a small
stream, which brawled along over pebbles and rocks,
and almost encircled the lawn. Domestic animals of
all kinds, and domesticated animals of the wild races,
as deer, buffalo, cabri, and other animals, unknown to
me, were ruminating in the shade along with sheep,
goats, and cows. A considerable village of the houses
of tenants, and the offices of servants and retainers of
the family, were built in parallel lines, with strict regard
to comfort and utility, as well as pleasing effect, in the
rear of the mansion. That and these appeared to be
coeval, and built all of the same material, a beautiful
greenish grey soap stone, which had a charming effect
upon the eye. The fences, and granges, and all the
appurtenances of this sort, were either of this stone, or
of the imperishable mulberry or cedar, and were

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massive, strong, and painted white, or to imitate the stone,
and all seemed to have especial regard to perpetuity,
as well as beauty. Smooth mountains in the form of
cones, or towering and ragged points of granite, finished
the distant outline. The sun was descending as we
rode under the shade of the sycamores. It was a
scene of comfort, amenity, repose, and grandeur, which
filled the heart and the eye. At the entrance to the
lawn the crowds of citizens, the rabble of the city,
and the annoying cavalcade of the militia left us. A
select and invited party of the ladies and gentlemen of
the vicinity, and of favorite officers, to form a domestic
circle, remained to welcome the return of the Conde to
his mansion by a fête.

To me the joyous greeting of the servants, domestics,
and retainers of the family, who amounted to some
hundreds, formed a pageant a thousand times more
impressive, than the stern and bannered ceremonial,
with which we had been treated for some time past,
even to a surfeit. This, too, was arranged with the air
of a fête. But here the demonstrations were real.
The head of the government and of a princely establishment
had returned from a long and dangerous absence,
in which his only child had been made a captive
among the savages. It was amidst troublous and dubious
times, in which the people were constantly alarmed
with “wars, and rumours of wars,” that he had returned
to a peaceful and rural retirement. A host of dependants,
who identified their own security, comfort, and even
consequence, with his, welcomed his return. What a

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different air has every thing that is done with the
heart, from that which is merely got up? With how
much sweetness and tenderness did Doña Martha receive
their caresses and congratulations? I had the
satisfaction of seeing the affectionate bursts of joy with
which she was welcomed home. Amidst the general
melting of hearts, I had the delight to receive a cordial
grasp of the hand from her, and a welcome of manner
and eye, which I treasured in my heart, as I was shown
by her to a cushioned seat in the shade. The Condesa
and the Conde, the father confessor and Don Pedro
even, seemed to have relaxed from their customary
gravity, and the latter especially were unwonted in their
cordiality to me. I was introduced in rapid succession
to the officers, and to a crowd of gentlemen and ladies.
Three or four of the latter were handsome, as many
tolerable, and the numerous remainder were yellow,
swarthy, badly formed, and dressed in fantastic finery,
and only calculated, as I could not help remarking to
Doña Martha, as foils to her. To this fine compliment,
a slight curtesy was all my reply.

For the rest, there was the usual ringing of bells,
firing of cannon, bonfires on the hills, and illumination
among the trees. Wine for the gentry, and mezcal and
agua audiente for the mob, flowed as from fountains.
A most bountiful supper, of a plenty surpassing even
Camacho's wedding, was spread on rustic tables on the
grass, and all was festivity and joy. At table, the
Conde sat on one side, Don Pedro and the father confessor
and the officers were below him. On the

[figure description] Page 150.[end figure description]

opposite side, I sat immediately below the Condesa and her
daughter. Amidst the Babel clatter of voices, and
plates, and gaiety, I was able to receive and return,
without notice, a great many of those kind and affectionate
remarks and welcomes, so naturally growing
out of the time and place. I was positive that Martha
evinced decided partiality for me; and that there was
a gladness of heart in her welcome to me, of which she
was not conscious. Surely, I thought, vanity could not
misinterpret all this.

After supper there was dancing. The Conde and
his lady, the officers, and the fine ladies chimed in.
The tall colonel, Don Pedro, the future son-in-law, led
out the Doña Martha to head a national dance. It is
one into which the Spanish enter to enthusiasm. I was,
and still am, morose upon this subject of dancing. I
felt my twinges of heart-burn, and was determined not
to like it. But never had I witnessed any thing to
compare with the grace, the elasticity, and sweetness of
the dancing of Doña Martha. I had never conceived
before, that there could be the highest grace, science,
and even expression of the heart in dancing. She
seemed to inspire her tall and grim partner with dignity
and grace. Clapping of hands, and the most unbounded
expressions of joy were drawn forth from the spectators.
Even the elderly dancers, who were laboriously pursuing
their vocation, were arrested by their admiration.
The incipient feeling of heart-burn was a little mitigated
by witnessing the comic distress of my friend, Bryan,
who was obliged to sustain his part in this affair with

[figure description] Page 151.[end figure description]

the gay and plump dueña. Extremely sensitive to the
ridiculous himself, he turned upon me an eye, in which
chagrin and laughter were curiously blended, as his
short partner shook her castanets, and rolled round his
square and erect figure. The movement called the
parties to walk slowly, and solemnly, and with frequent
and low bows past each other, until a certain part of
the tune. At this point, the parties changed the movement,
and skipped and capered as if they were mad.
There was something amusing in the perplexity and
restraint of the tall, square Irishman, compared with
the laughing gaiety of the dueña, who did her best at a
bow, and waddled with her short figure, like a duck, that
produced an uncontrolled laugh on all sides. Martha
shared in it with the highest glee. Even I could not
exercise the supplicated forbearance, which the countenance
of Bryan seemed to demand of me, and against
myself I laughed heartily with the rest.

I might have remarked, that it is the fashion in
this dance for old and young, parents and children,
masters and servants, on these occasions to join in the
same dance. The Conde and his lady had paid their
tax to the custom, and were seated under a spreading
sycamore, blazing with various-colored lights, and witnessed
with calm satisfaction the joyous group of their
friends and dependants, crossing each other in the
mazes of the dance. Her partner led their daughter
to a seat, and was engaged in conversation with an officer.
Greatly to my surprise and satisfaction, Martha
beckoned me to her side. After asking me how I was

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pleased, and questions of that sort, she regretted that I
could take no part in these innocent gaieties myself,
and remarked, how differently all this must seem from
scenes of the same kind in my own country? “I
am thinking,” she continued, “how to render you
popular in this region. Nothing would do it so effectually,
as to conform so far to our ways, as to take a part
in this dance. It is a national mania with us. You
have seen me go through with the business, and I
judged from your looks, that it struck you as a very
ridiculous affair. I am not ashamed to say, that I enjoy
it. I hold it right to countenance these people in their
innocent gaieties. I am most annoyed with the insipid and
flat compliments of these military heroes. Our national
manners call for all this, and allow strangers privileges
here, which would not be tolerated in any other place.
I should think it would be conformable to your republican
notions to see the rich and the poor mixing together
in the same sports, in which their ancestors mixed in the
generations of the past. Will you have the goodness
to walk this dance with me? With what you have
seen, and with a few directions which I can give at the
moment when wanted, I am sure, from your walk and
your figure, that we can manage the dance. It will be
acceptable to my parents, and to the people. At
another time and place, I might not be allowed this
familiarity with one of another nation. Here it will be
entirely in place.” I thought philosophy was uppermost
at the moment; but I now think, that I remembered
the applauses bestowed upon her dancing with

[figure description] Page 153.[end figure description]

Don Pedro, and that the real spice of my reply was
envy. “Thank you,” said I, and here I added all her
titles, “for your condescension, and for the care you
take to remind me of it. It is as unexpected as it is
grateful. I have seldom danced in my own country.
The dances there seem to me sufficiently ridiculous.
I confess, if you will, that yours do not seem less so.
If I wished to caricature rational beings in the deepest
malignity of heart, I would set them to capering, bowing,
skipping, cringing, and conducting after the manner
of this dance. I may as well pass for a cynic, and ill
bred, at once. But I do not love to see those for
whom I entertain the feelings I have had for you, engaged
in this way. Besides, I should not exactly choose
to be the foil, to set off the dancing of your late partner.
I must deny myself the honor which you propose me.”
She arose, and stood before me, and fixed her keen
black eyes upon me with a scrutiny at once intense,
modest, and yet firm, as though she would read to the
bottom of my heart. “Do you not only misinterpret,
Sir, but mock my purpose?” said she. “I see well
that you understand how much I wished your esteem.
I cannot even flatter myself that there is any lurking
feeling of jealousy in all this lowering of your countenance.
Your philosophy, Sir, is too hard-hearted, and
sees the ridiculous too keenly for me. I thought that a
young lady under my obligations, and who kept a strict
guard that too much of the heart should not break out
in expressing those obligations, and who had in her
viens the unpolluted blood of twenty generations of

[figure description] Page 154.[end figure description]

noble descent, might consider what I proposed to you,
as a condescension on my part. I see, Sir, that I have
mistaken you. I am to be your pupil, and I will show
you that I am not apt to make a second mistake, when
the first is clearly seen.”

She arose rather in sorrow than in wrath, and calmly
walked away. I was deceived, if the flashing of her
dark eye was not dimmed, and suffused with tears.
I was disarmed of envy and jealousy, and all the legion
was cast out in a moment. I never remember to have
felt worse. It was not acidity or heart-burn now, but
emotions made up of mixed ingredients, but all of them
more bitter than aloes. `Despiser of dancing!' said
I to myself, `this is your pitiful philosophy. That
piercing eye saw the envy and jealousy that you would
fain have dubbed philosophy. And then the nobleness
of her motive, her considerate and mild benevolence!
Let her ask me to dance again, and I will dance, if
I figure more ridiculously than even the fat dueña.'
But the evening passed away, without offering any
chance to manifest either repentance or reparation.
I was shown to my apartment, without being able to
catch the eye of Martha for a moment. The confused
hum of the parting company gradually lessened
upon my ear, and I had scarce pressed my pillow,
before my imagination was weaving a laborious web
of dreaming. Mrs. Radcliffe's castles, and priests,
and ghosts, and winding-sheets, and spectres, figured
in succession before my mind's eye; and the catastrophe
of each scene was Doña Martha shedding

[figure description] Page 155.[end figure description]

tears at the thought of finding me guilty of the baseness
of envy.

The next two days were days of finding my latitude
and bearings at table, in the house, and in the adjoining
walks. Bryan furnished my table in my own room, a
charming apartment, partly lighted with painted glass,
and partly ventilated with Venetian blinds. Every
thing that could be devised for the comfort of a scholar
was placed in it, books, stationary, a writing desk, a
lolling chair, and a few articles of sumptuous furniture.
The blinds opened directly among the branches of
sycamores and catalpas, and I could reach the clusters
of grapes, that hung from the interlaced vines, with my
hands. The first sounds of the morning were the
mellow whistle of the red-bird, and the matins of the
nightingale-sparrow, directly on a level with my window.
I spent a good portion of those two days in
wandering unheeded and alone under the ancient groves
of these beautiful grounds, in the shade of gigantic and
spreading trees, planted by nature, beyond all date,
and in her own order. Fine swells, verdant dells,
springs, brooks, and the river, of which I have spoken;
innumerable flocks of beasts and birds, comprising, as
it seemed, all the varieties of the ark; beautiful
stone cottages, clustered with the bignonia in full
flower; comfort, industry, and repose;—these were the
features of the landscape. Mountains towered in the
distance, and I heard frequent explosions, like thunder,
or distant earthquakes, which, they informed me, were
the blasts of the miners in the mountains, where they

[figure description] Page 156.[end figure description]

were extracting silver ore. I found the intelligence
and good nature of Bryan invaluable. From him I
gleaned much of that small local information, which
is at once so necessary, and so difficult to obtain.
There was something peculiarly amiable and good
about him, and I was interested in hearing his history.
He was one of those ten thousand poor Catholic adventurers,
who are seeking bread and employment more
especially in the Catholic countries. Enthusiastically
attached to every remembrance of home, the circumstance
of my speaking English drew his kind heart
towards me. The deep and grateful affection which
he felt for the Condesa and her daughter, and something
of transferred kindness to me, as her supposed
deliverer, added another tie. The only failing was one
of too much kindness, a disposition to outrun the limits
of propriety in bringing information of what passed in
the family in respect to me.

The third morning after my arrival, I was invited
again to my place at table with the family. After suitable
compliments, and inquiries if things were right in
my apartment, and other commonplace conversation,
I was informed that my limited number of six pupils
were waiting to have me arrange my time for giving
them lessons in English. I of course proposed commencing
immediately. Bryan received directions with
respect to the horses and a carriage or volante, whenever
I chose to ride, and I was invited, with great
urbanity, in all respects to consider myself as a member
of the family, and dispose of my time and

[figure description] Page 157.[end figure description]

amusements at my own discretion. The eye of the Conde,
I remarked, constantly wandered, as though he struggled
with the internal apprehension of rebellion and
civil discord. The father and Don Pedro had returned
to their usual stern reserve towards me. The Condesa
and her daughter, were rather formal than otherwise.
There were a few officers, beside the family, at table.
For myself, I was treated with civility enough, but I
had the uncomfortable sensation of seeming to impose
restraint upon the whole circle. It was arranged, that
I should give my lessons between three and five in the
evening, commencing with that day.

At the assigned hour, my grammars and dictionaries
were selected, and my pupils introduced to me, in the
place where I preferred to receive them, in my own
apartment. With two of them, Doña Martha and Don
Pedro you are already acquainted. A master's comfort
in the discharge of his thankless, and yet responsible
duties, depends much, as every one knows, upon
the disposition and character of his pupils. You have
passed through that bitter discipline, and have served
in that hard warfare, and you will sympathize with me,
while I give you the outlines of the rest of my pupils
in this my new charge. I comprehended in a moment,
that in Don Pedro, I had an arrogant observer,
and a vigilant spy; whose least concern was to learn
the language, and who would yet find fault with his
instructer, for his want of progress. The elder of the
four strangers I should have supposed turned of nineteen.
She too was noble, was called Gauchupine, and had

[figure description] Page 158.[end figure description]

been born in Old Spain, and had a half a dozen long
names, terminating in a, and was, like Martha, an only
daughter, and heiress of a long string of titles, and
what imported much more, even there, an immense
fortune. She had a fine figure, an air rather haughty,
a brownish complexion, and the usual black locks and
eyes. She was much more gaudily dressed than Martha,
and the general expression was pride of wealth
and uncontrolled feeling. To avoid the incumbrance
of her names and titles, I shall call her by her first
name, Dorothea. The other three, were of the name
of Benvelt, daughters of a miner of Saxon descent,
who had accumulated vast wealth in his profession, had
been ennobled, and now held the office of assayer of the
mines. These daughters were from eighteen to fourteen,
beautiful girls, with round faces of the purest and
the most brilliant red and white, with flowing flaxen
curls on their alabaster necks, and mild and melting
blue eyes. They struck me, as most amiable, untamed
romps, with the kindest sensibilities, and whose good
dispositions were so unchangeable, as to have survived
the extreme indulgence, with which they had been
managed, or rather mismanaged by their widowed
father, who loved them with such a doting fondness,
as would be as apt to cherish their faults as their virtues.

Few situations can be imagined more embarrassing
and awkward than mine; a stranger, of a different nation
and religion, thus commencing a task, hard and
unthankful at the best, under every advantage, and

[figure description] Page 159.[end figure description]

here undertaken with pupils, who, except Martha,
spoke very indifferent French, the only language, in
which I could communicate with them, and thus beginning
upon a language, which foreigners generally suppose
extremely difficult to learn. I made a few remarks,
by way of explaining my plan, and the mutual
diligence, necessary for our reciprocal duties, and I
assigned them their lesson. Martha evidently remembered
what had occurred at the fête, but she seated
herself to her task, with the unaffected docility and earnestness
of one who meant to learn. The only time,
in which I had ever seen a smile in the grim face of
Don Pedro, was when I gave him his task. There
was on his face an ironical semblance of submission,
which became him as the capers do an elephant. Dorothea,
instead of looking at the lesson, eyed me from
head to foot. The Misses Benvelt, in a language neither
French, German, nor Spanish, but a compound of
the accents of the three, eagerly proposed a great
many questions, and laughed heartily at me and
themselves, for not being able to understand each
other. A grave smile at our mutual embarrassment,
interrupted the studies of Martha, and she quietly set
us right, by interpreting for us. They thanked her in
Spanish, as they said, for bringing them so pretty a
fellow to teach them English. She bade them be
quiet, for that I understood Spanish. This produced
from them more laughter and romping, and it was some
time before I obtained stillness. I applied myself to the
Spanish, while they were engaged in their English;

[figure description] Page 160.[end figure description]

and we proposed it, as a trial of speed, which of us
should first learn the language of the other. The attention
of Martha was sustained and entire. Don Pedro
arose repeatedly, took out his watch, yawned, and
said, as plainly as manner could say it, this is a most
simple business for a man of my dignity. Dorothea
walked carelessly round the room, examined the paintings,
and looking me full in the face, asked me, if the
dress I wore, was in the fashion of my country? The
Saxon young ladies found inexplicable difficulties,
teased me with innumerable questions, but seemed
both goodnatured, and disposed to learn. The recitations
corresponded to these different degrees of attention.
That of Martha comprised all, that was within
the limits of the task assigned. Don Pedro strove to
hide his want of his lesson, under affected indifference
and disregard to the business. Dorothea answered my
questions, by proposing questions in her turn, asking
me the English of different words. The Misses Benvelt
blushed “rosy red,” attempted badinage, and the
youngest of them shed some tears. I treated them
with great gentleness, and made all possible excuses
for them. To which they replied by saying, that I
was a dear, kind master, and that they would do better
next time. Thankful was I, to get over this first formidable
business so well. Martha tarried one moment
after the departure of the other pupils. I seized that
moment, to make the amende honorable, which I had
vowed to myself to make, the first opportunity, for
my misbehaviour of the former evening. “Allow me,”

[figure description] Page 161.[end figure description]

said I, “to avail myself of this chance to tell you, that I
have been much dissatisfied with myself, since my
rudeness of the other evening. I shall have no more
peace of mind, until you have reconciled me to myself
by your forgiveness. The beautiful dancing of yourself
and your partner, excited envy. In the self-blindness
of the moment, I baptized the bad feeling by the
name of philosophy. Dance as charmingly as you will,
and be as happy as you will, and with whom you will.
I will witness it all, and be a philosopher no more.
Only say that you forgive me.” She held out her hand.
“Forgive you, my dear sir? That is a word utterly misapplied
in this case. If you were to put it to the account
of a little jealousy, it would be placing the thing
in so flattering a light, that any young lady would
forgive you of course. But, if it will satisfy you with
yourself, know, that the frankness of this confession,
places you, at least in my thoughts, on as high ground,
as if you had not sinned. Go, I forgive you. Be a
philosopher no more.”

This may serve as a specimen of the general order
of our recitations for a considerable time. I was
sometimes provoked with the insolence of Don Pedro.
But he always seemed to have his cue, and not to be
disposed to carry it beyond a certain point. I found
him not deficient in capacity. Sometimes, to impress
me that this was not the case, he would recite his lesson
quite well. He once or twice undertook the puzzling
me with some perplexing niceties, that he had studied
out. As soon as he found me thoroughly informed

[figure description] Page 162.[end figure description]

upon the subject, he desisted, and I was troubled from
that quarter no more. My other pupils gave me no
particular difficulty, and made the customary progress,
except one—and her progress was rapid; the task of
teaching her was delightful, and reserved as a desert to
carry down the bitterness of all the rest. My other
amusements were walking and riding. I made frequent
excursions among the mountains, and often rose
early, and scaled them, that from their summits, I
might contemplate the rising sun. I sometimes angled
in the stream, and in this amusement I had more dexterity
and success, than the inhabitants themselves.
Once or twice I rode with the Conde on his hunting
parties. I saw at once, that I never could acquire any
thing of Spanish dexterity at throwing the noose. Beside
the slaughter of such animals, as deer and buffaloes,
for sport, brought to my view such agony and struggle,
as were too painful to my feelings. The firehuntings
by night, had a picturesque and impressive
effect, which interested me for two or three times.
But my serious amusements at home, were my books,
and playing the harpsicord, at which I had acquired
some little previous dexterity. I am inclined to think
that this latter amusement, derived its chief interest
from the circumstance, that I pursued it in the same
room with the Condesa and her daughter, and had the
instructions of the latter to help me out with the tune.
I saw her seldom alone. But I had contrived so to
manage demonstrations of a change of mind in relation
to dancing, that there seemed a tacit understanding,
that my silent apologies had been fully accepted.

[figure description] Page 163.[end figure description]

A new source of satisfaction was opening to us both.
My previous knowledge of Latin and French, together
with a considerable knowledge of the philosophy of
languages in general, and, let me bring out the whole
truth, an earnest desire to converse with Doña Martha
in a language which flowed from her lips like honey,
and sounded on my ear like music, soon made me
master of the Spanish. I felt it due to the talents and
virtues, as well as the taste and literature of my fair
and amiable pupil, to propose to be guided in my course
of reading by her judgment. I perceived that it was a
compliment which counted at once, and went directly
to the point. She, in her turn, made a surprising progress
in English, so much so, that she could converse
with me in that language, before either of the other
pupils could comprehend a sentiment, expressed by the
words. They might know a particular word, and we
amused ourselves by putting them on a wrong scent,
and we so often convinced them that they totally misapprehended
our meaning, that we could, if we had
chosen, have held a confidential conversation in their
presence, and nothing but our countenances would have
betrayed a sentiment. The temptation was great, and
almost irresistible to this very point. We were both a
little guilty in this way, but I can aver, on my conscience,
that she trespassed oftener and farther in that
point, than I did myself. You can imagine my delight
in unfolding to such a pupil the treasures of our great
master-minds. But you cannot imagine her eagerness
and delight in these employments. I discovered, in

[figure description] Page 164.[end figure description]

fact, from the brewing gloom and ill humour in the
countenance of Don Pedro, that he was fully aware of
our enjoyments in these respects, and that, like the
first enemy of man, he was watching to eject us from
our paradise. I saw that, in order to the tranquil continuance
of these enjoyments, innocent as they were,
we must be more moderate in the indulgence of them.
While the countenance of the father Josephus was
lengthening, and accumulating bitterness in its expression
towards me, my young male pupil made little or
no progress, interrupted our most impressive readings
with a whistle of contempt, staring at her with an expression
of pity, and at me with scorn. I felt that
my happiness must soon have a crisis. In a morning
conversation at table, he took occasion to express a
decided dislike for the English language. He observed,
that a foolish fashion had controlled him to think of
learning it; but that it was a harsh, hissing, and vulgar
language, fit only to be spoken, as it was, by barbarians.
He thence digressed to the people of the States, and
he spoke of them with increased asperity, adding, that
the only difficulty in reducing the rebellious creoles
to proper loyalty and submission, arose from the contiguity
and the infectious example of the States.
Colonel Arredondo, who had acted so efficient a part
in putting down the beginnings of disaffection, was
present, and echoed the observation. I thought of
various replies to these rude remarks, which were evidently
personal. They were all bitter, and replies of
defiance. I received, too, at the same time, a look of

[figure description] Page 165.[end figure description]

such earnest entreaty from a quarter, that I need not
mention, as caused me to suppress the rising words.
I was too content with my situation, to commit it by
taking notice of remarks which, after all, I was not
bound to consider personal. The only reply that I
deemed it proper to make, was, by a profound bow of
apology to the family of the Conde for leaving the table,
by rising, and looking Don Pedro for a moment sternly
in the face, and leaving the room.

Bryan informed me that the Conde, who appeared
to have been absent when the conversation commenced,
and who only noticed the insulted consciousness with
which I left the room, applauded my mode of noticing
this rudeness, and observed, that whatever they might
have thought of my language and country, his personal
obligations to me, forbade their using such language at
his table in my presence, and requesting them to abstain
from it in future. He furthermore told me, that
he had, more than once, heard the father confessor
cautioning the Conde against the influence which I was
imperceptibly, as he said, but rapidly gaining over the
minds of his wife and daughter. He had heard him
warn him, that such a course would render him unpopular,
and suspicious among the ultra and fierce royalists,
that it was dangerous to the church thus to retain
a heretic of some learning and ingenuity in his family.
It is true, he informed me, that the Conde always vindicated
me from any sinister designs, and expressed an
entire confidence in my honor and fidelity. Even the
manner of the Condesa, so tender and maternal, when

[figure description] Page 166.[end figure description]

we were for a moment alone together, and so reserved
and silent, when we were before witnesses, boded me
no good.

Influenced by these united considerations, I was determined
to have an explanation, at least with my fair
pupil, and either propose through her a relinquishment
of a charge, which seemed likely to produce only dissension
and uneasiness, or at least to propose to her to
shorten our readings together. A chance soon offered.
I had been in the habit of going through my tasks with
my other pupils first, and reserving the pleasure of
hearing this pupil for the last. Don Pedro had this
time made a miserable and stammering attempt at a
lesson, a thing he had not attempted before, since I left
the breakfast table so abruptly. He sometimes, as I
remarked, attempted a lesson, that he might show his
ability to do it, when he pleased. The task was of
blank verse, and somewhat difficult, and he wholly
failed, and failed, evincing an effort to succeed. This
put him in evident ill humour. Dorothea stumbled,
too, and excused herself by taxing me roundly with
taking more pains with Doña Martha than herself, and
that for this want of equal attention, she was behind
her. The two younger Misses Benvelt strove hard
to recite, and shed childish tears at their failure. The
elder one, who had always before shown great sweetness
of temper, caught the infectious ill temper, and
was stubbornly silent. The young gentleman whistled
awhile, delighted with these murky indications of ill
success to my function, and left the room. The other

[figure description] Page 167.[end figure description]

pupils went out in succession, without the usual civilities
of leave. I was left alone with Martha in the midst
of her recitation.

The recitation closed, and before the reading, which
generally followed it, as she took up the book for the
reading, I requested pardon for interrupting the customary
order of our pursuits. “What mean these tears
and this rudeness, Doña Martha?” said I. “I see
nothing to justify it. Constructions must have been put
upon these exercises, which I see nothing to justify.
Where is the wrong? I begin to be afraid that I am
fonder of learning Spanish, than teaching English. I
have a surmise, that I am rather longer in my attention
to your lesson, than the rest. It is natural to linger in
pleasure, and to hurry through toil. You had made
me a kind of promise to put me right, when you saw
me going unconsciously in the wrong. The truth is,
my conscience tells me, I am partly guilty of Dorothea's
charge. I have probably involved you in an unpleasant
predicament, as being, through your generous indulgence,
an accessary. I have been thinking, Doña
Martha, that my compatriots about this time are on
their return to the United States, and that I had better
restore tranquillity to all these ruffled countenances,
and relieve you from all charges of too much kindness
towards me, by joining them, and returning to my
country.”

During these remarks she manifested great agitation,
and replied with a voice of deep emotion, which she
endeavoured to conceal under an appearance of gaiety.

[figure description] Page 168.[end figure description]

“You are now partly kind, Sir, and partly unkind.
You are kind, very kind, to remind me so gently of my
own fault, by calling it your's. I will be as frank as
you have been. Where you have done badly in this
thing, I have done worse. I have determined every
day to retrench and deny myself. But it seemed so
innocent an amusement, and so little liable to misconstruction,
I have returned to my fault again and again.
I love English, that I must confess. I am sensible
that I have trespassed on your time and patience.
Your language has opened to me a new world, and
your beautiful poets have convinced me that I have a
new heart. Will you leave me just now, in the midst
of these enjoyments? You have just opened the first
pages of the book of knowledge before me, and have
raised the eagerness of desire, and you would now
leave me, not enough instructed, unaided, to read it.
We cannot spare you just now. The character which
my mother has always maintained as belonging to you, is
beginning to be developed, to convince the doubtful, and
to confound your enemies. That you have such, I will
not deny, nor that I have heard you traduced. More
shame to those who do it so unjustly. Let them go
on. Their palpable malice has half convinced my
father. In my mother you have a firm friend. Your
pupils behaved badly just now, I admit. But what of
that? I dare not tell you what these young ladies think
of you, for fear you should become vain. Stay, and
triumph over your enemies. It is unworthy of that
spirit, of which I have received such memorable proofs,

[figure description] Page 169.[end figure description]

to fly, because your merit has raised you enemies.
I have none too many real friends myself. Oh! if you
knew what I have recently suffered!”

It is not altogether an original remark, that human
nature is a very frail establishment. Those brilliant
and spirited eyes, melting in the tenderness of persuasion,
and fixed upon me, the frank and childlike simplicity
of her confidence, and the deep expression of
grief with which she made the last remark, completely
vanquished my resolution, and I expressed myself in
terms of unwonted bitterness towards those who could
be so base as to cause her suffering. I was vehement,
and expressed myself with an ardor, that intimated any
thing, rather than the common interest which I must be
supposed to feel in her condition.

She looked at me rather with surprise than displeasure,
holding up her hands in astonishment. “Look
you here!” said she. “This is the philosopher, the
pure and dispassionate intelligence that despises dancing.
Indeed, Sir, this declamation is more flattering
than just. It is a truth, that a personage, just so meritorious
and innocent as I am, does suffer just now, and
that bitterly. Let us both lay our wrongs out of the
question, and see which can suffer with most dignity
and patience—the dance-hating philosopher, or the
untaught, romping Spanish girl, that dearly loves the
fandango. Your readiness to fly at the first difficulty,
inclines me to think, the young lady will vanquish the
philosopher at this trial.” I answered, “When I know
the nature of your sufferings, and from what cause they

[figure description] Page 170.[end figure description]

flow, I can then judge of the equality of the trial.”
“Oh! I must make you a confidant, then, must I? I
am thinking you are rather too young, all philosopher
as you are, to receive the confessions of a young
lady. But I know of no impropriety in saying, that
the man, who the other morning so rudely caused
you to leave the table, is the cause of my suffering.
Why should I stint my confidence? They have destined
me for him. I have parried the proposition for a
long time. Once I was indifferent to him. My feelings,
I know not how, have changed, and I now positively
detest him. The worst is, that my friends, my
father, my dear mother even, are in the conspiracy
against me. They even urge me to an immediate
union. They allege the disturbances and dangers of
the times; the necessity of an equal-aged protector, a
man of the same rank, wealth, and condition with myself.
They go further. His taciturnity with them is
wisdom. His bitter temper is honorable sternness.
They even sicken me with his praises. To all this,
urged again and again, I have only to reply, that I
feel safe; that I would neither wish to leave, or survive
my mother; and that I have a fixed disinclination to
any present change in my condition. I strive to gain
time. The Virgin mother forgive me! I dare not tell
them that I hate their favourite. Once or twice they
have driven me to desperation, and then they heard all
the truth. But enough of this. I know not what has
led me into the folly of telling you my trifling secrets.
I mean to be more moderate and discreet in allowing

[figure description] Page 171.[end figure description]

myself the pleasure of English reading. I mean to be
patient and prudent. Do you do the same. Shorten
my exercises, and prolong those of the rest. Be
marked in your civilities to them. How my heart
thanked you, for conducting in a manner equally forbearing
and spirited towards Don Pedro the other
morning! continue this course, and you will conquer
them all. Oh that the Holy Virgin would touch your
heart! Then, ah then—” she made a pause. “And
what then?” I eagerly asked. “Then you might become
to me, as a brother.”

“I implore you,” said I, “my dear Martha, not to put
any of these bribes before me, nor to make any of
these tender suppositions, which can never be. I
fear, I can never change my religion. My convictions
upon this point are settled. I should poorly win my
claim to more confidence with a mind, that weighs
character, like yours, by becoming a recreant to my
principles. I beseech you not to make me swerve from
my course by a kindness, which may set my wicked imagination
to weaving the threads of a tie, tenderer than
that of brother. I must never allow such a fancy,
much less give it utterance.” “You are right,” she replied;
“you must neither forget the latter, nor dream
of the former. But remain firm to your philosophy.
I pleased myself in fancying you were cold, disinterested,
dispassionate, and what an excellent casuist you
would be to me in cases of conscience and the heart.
In short I promised to find in you, a calm and considerate
friend and brother. Above all things, I wish

[figure description] Page 172.[end figure description]

you to exercise forbearance towards Don Pedro, and to
remain where you are. Things must change for the
better. Put the most favorable construction you can
upon a confidence, which departs so far from common
rules. Alas! whom have I in whom to confide, but
my mother? and, unhappily, she is in sentiment with
my father upon this point.”

It is not in man, at least it was not in me, to resist
such persuasions, which, however they may seem out
of the way in the relation, had, under the circumstances
of the case, an air of simple and modest confidence,
which, according to my notions of decorum, were in
perfect keeping with her whole deportment. My own
wrongs were forgotten, and regarding Don Pedro as
another Menko, I was determined that I would remain,
and endure all, as long as it should be endurable, and
that I would devote myself to the welfare of Martha, in
whom I began to admit to myself, that I felt to the full,
at least a fraternal interest. And with her frank admission
of claims up to that point, I determined to content
myself.

I fear, sir, that I have already wearied and cloyed
you, with these milky adventures. I have all along
felt extremely foolish about being the hero of this my
own story, and have thought often of the privileges of
the renowned author of the “Commentaries,” and have
wished, that like him, I were of sufficient consequence,
to speak of myself in the third person. But, as you
insist upon my proceeding, you must arm yourself with
patience, and I will introduce you to matters of a little

[figure description] Page 173.[end figure description]

more pith and moment. I will go on to give you
all the tender matter of this stage of my adventures
in a mass. You may infer, as you please, my inmost
thoughts, whether, or not, I am a captivating
man, since you will see from my story, that I fire
every thing that comes in my way.

It happened, the next day after this conversation
with Martha, that Dorothea and the Misses Benvelt
came in for recitation considerably earlier than usual.
The library was separated from my apartment where
we recited, by a partition, which was pierced in a number
of places to admit a free circulation of the air, and
was screened by Venetian blinds, a whisper in one
apartment, as in a whispering gallery, was audible in
the other. I had set out on my evening ride; I forget
the circumstance, but something had induced me to
return. I was in the library when the ladies entered
my apartment. I was so situated, that I could not
escape, without making it known, that I had overheard
their conversation. I heard my pupils begin to make
me the subject of a confidential conversation, premising
that they had seen me ride out, and that I should not
be back for an hour. I heard enough, before I had
determined what course I ought to pursue, to hold me
in `durance vile,' until I might escape unperceived.
I was aware that I should create a most painful
surprise, if I should open my door, and interrupt
them.

The conversation began by the Misses Benvelt inquiring
in a half whisper, “if it were certain that I was

[figure description] Page 174.[end figure description]

not in my room.” Dorothea affirmed that I was not,
for, as she rode into the courtyard, she had seen me
moving out on horseback. “Beside,” she added, “I
should think, he could not hear us from the library,
even if he were there. Neither do I believe, even if
he heard us, that he could make out our conversation,
when we speak in Spanish.” Elder Miss Benvelt.
“There you mistake. He speaks and understands
Spanish well. Love and Martha have taught him all
that.” Dorothea. “He learns Spanish to a miracle.
That is true. And he is a charming fellow. But I
vow to our Lady of Lisbon, that I believe not a word
of his loving Martha, though it is easy to see, poor
thing, that she is dying for him. But she is sped.
She is obliged to take Don Pedro, for better or worse.
And I see not, why she ought not to be satisfied. He
is rather solemn and grim, to be sure. Not exactly
such a man as our master, but well enough after all.
I suppose you have heard the news, that there is
another rising in Texas. A great many Americans
have come on, and are joined with the rebels. The
Conde has to go and fight them. He insists that his
daughter marries before he sets out for the army.
The Condesa is in heart with Martha, and against an
immediate union, and there has been a great storm in
the palace. I think for one, that she never will do
better. Jesu! I have seen as pretty, as she is, though
she gives herself such airs. The father confessor is
ready to excommunicate her for her obstinacy, and
Don Pedro swears, that she did formerly as good as

[figure description] Page 175.[end figure description]

promise him, that she was ready to go with him to the
altar; and he lays all the blame of her present obstinacy
upon our teacher, and he swears, that if the adventurer,
as he calls him, does not leave the country, he
will call him out and fight him. That's determined
upon. Some say, he will fight, and some say, that
these people are better to fight Indians, than they are
to handle sword and pistol with a gentleman. I wish
I knew, if there were any love between them. For
my part, I always suspect such grave people. Martha,
to be sure, seems to have fire enough, but the other,
seems an insensible block of wood. I dare say, both
of them have their thoughts, as well as other people.
At any rate, Don Pedro is determined to kill him, or
drive him out of the country. They have threatened.
Martha every way, poor child; to send her to Spain,
and to a convent, or to shut her up in the palace upon
bread and water.” Second Miss Benvelt. “Poor
Martha! I am sorry for her! It must be a dreadful
thing to marry, where one does not love. We must
all allow, that Martha is a sweet girl, though she does
happen to be prettier than any of us. As for our
teacher, he is a divine young man. Certainly Martha
is an exception. But leave her out, and we must
allow that the Germans and the Americans are much
handsomer than the Spaniards. I was at Chihuahua,
and saw those fine fellows that came with Captain
Pike. I could never endure a swarthy Spaniard for
a husband, after seeing such men.” Dorothea, looking
in the glass. “I vow, Miss Benvelt, you are very

[figure description] Page 176.[end figure description]

complimentary. May be, you forget that I am a full-blooded
Spaniard, and a Gauchupine myself. I bless
the Virgin, my father allows me to do just as I please.
This poor fellow of ours has no money. Now would
it not be a generous thing, to take him myself. I
have wealth enough for us both. I have done every
thing to let him see, that I did not dislike him.
But he is an astonishing block, and will not take a
hint.” Elder Miss Benvelt. “My father is as rich,
as yours, and allows me as much liberty. For the matter
of that, the Saxons and Americans are much more
alike, than the Spaniards and Americans. I hate Don
Pedro! The bloody-minded wretch, to drive away our
master, or kill him. I hope, if they do fight, that Don
Pedro will fall. Do you think he will fight, Dorothea?”
Dorothea. “I dare say he will. But if he
should, these Americans have an eye and a hand, as
steady and true as steel. It is just as likely, as not,
that he kills Don Pedro, and then I am sure he would
get Martha for the prize. Now, to tell you the plain
truth, I do not value English a fig, and I am sure, I
shall never learn it. What's the use? he talks French,
and you say, he can talk Spanish. I vow to the
Virgin, I love to look at him, and that's just what I
come for; and you, German romps, you are here for
nothing else either. How is it, that Martha has already
learned to hiss in the horrid language? Is it not surprising
that the language should be so harsh, and the
men so pretty?”

[figure description] Page 177.[end figure description]

I heard a great deal more childish rattle of this sort.
I was presented with interior views of what was passing
in the recesses of the Conde's household. I gathered,
that Martha was more severely pressed to an union
with Don Pedro, than she had informed me; that I
might expect to be treated by him with more gross
rudeness, than I had yet experienced, and, more important
than all the rest, that there was an insurrection
in Texas. The confabulation ended by my fair pupils
proposing a walk in the garden, before recitation. The
moment they retired, I retreated too, and, by a circuitous
direction, came into my room as if from abroad,
leaving them entirely ignorant what flattering secrets
I had been compelled to hear.

This recitation passed off as usual, except that Don
Pedro did not attend it. The young ladies apologized
for their rudeness and negligence of the former day, in
such a manner, as led me to see, they had been tasked
by Martha for it. They attributed it to chagrin for not
having learned their task. They promised better attention
for the future. As we had agreed, I devoted but
little time to Martha, and more than usual to the rest,
and the exercise went off with apparent satisfaction
upon all sides.

Next morning I had still further confirmation of what
was passing at the palace respecting me. I wished to
take a ride to visit a young Englishman, that was much
esteemed, who had recently been dangerously wounded
by the unexpected explosion of a blast, which he was
superintending in the adjacent mines. He was the

[figure description] Page 178.[end figure description]

only son of an amiable and interesting widow, whose
husband had been settled on the Conde's estate, as
chief engineer in the mines. Bryan rode with me to
show me the way. As soon as we had cleared the
park, he addressed me in a voice, which trembled with
affectionate concern. “Now God and St. Patrick
touch the heart of your Honor, and make you a true
Roman.” “Why that prayer, Bryan?” I asked.
“Because, your Honor, father Josephus, blast his black
face! has set all the big people against you. He tells
them that you are a bad heretic, as knowing as the
devil; and that you will make all the people rebels.
He makes you a kind of Orange-man. The Indians
and the small folks like you all the better for it.
But that is no help here. For the king's men just
whip you up for nothing, and plunge you a thousand
fathoms in the mines for nothing but a word. And
these folks have all the upperhand now. And so the
Conde, to please the big folks, and the father, and the
young Don, and all, has published, that unless you will
turn round, and become a true Roman, and swear for
the king, he will send you packing. Your land is a
free one, and if you go home, unless you are pleased
to beat me back, Bryan goes with you.” “My good
friend,” said I, “I have hardly the means of taking
care of myself. But if I leave here, I certainly return
to my own free and happy country, where every honest
man does as he pleases, and there an industrious and
active lad can hardly fail of finding profitable and independent
employment.” “Ay,” said Bryan, “that's

[figure description] Page 179.[end figure description]

the country for me. Here there's but a word and a
blow, and the blow comes first. But it will please your
Honor to hear, that Martha, God bless her bright eyes!
pleaded hard for you, and said, as how an honest man
could not change his religion at once, and just when
he had a mind to it. The jewel and her mother had
a great deal to say for you. Finally, the Conde got
his blood up, and looked cross, this way; and swore,
that he had done enough to please her whims, and
those of her mother; that his mind was fixed, and that
he meant to try another hand with you, and with them.
He looked more grim and bitter than ever I saw him
before, and ordered his daughter out of the room.”

Bryan continued to give me details of this sort, until
we arrived at a most beautiful spot at the foot of the
mountains, from which burst forth great numbers of
clear and beautiful springs. In a deep grove of catalpas
and white walnuts, through which ran a rivulet,
formed by the union of these springs, was one of those
green stone cottages, of which I have spoken. Here,
Bryan informed me, lived the young man, whom I
came to visit. I knocked, and was admitted immediately.
On a clean mattress, and in a room neat and
cool, lay the unfortunate young man, whose wounds, it
was feared, would prove mortal. He had a manly
face, of the finest expression. His neck and breast
were scorched and blackened with gunpowder. He
appeared in an agony of pain, and the noble effort
which he made to suppress the expression of it before
his mother, gave his countenance a striking moral

[figure description] Page 180.[end figure description]

interest. His mother seemed between forty and fifty,
and her countenance bore the impress and the trace of
former beauty. No language can paint the maternal
affection, apprehension, and suspense, with which she
bent over the feverish and agonized form of her only
son. I told her, in a low voice, who I was, and that
having heard of her son's misfortune, and though not of
his country, yet speaking the same language and entertaining
for him the sympathies of a fellow countryman,
I had come in the hope that he would allow me to sit
with him, to watch with him, or in some way to be
serviceable to him or her. I felt affected with the
spectacle before me, and whenever the heart is moved,
the tone and the words catch the emotion. All the
mother's heart was expressed in the earnestness of her
thanks. “You are thrice welcome to my poor son,”
said she, as he fondly grasped my hand. “It will do
him good only to hear his own language spoken by one
so nearly of his own age.” After I had assisted her to
raise him, while she arranged his dressings, and after she
had informed me how he had received his wound, she
proceeded to tell her own short, but sad story. “My
husband came out here from England with an hydraulic
machine for throwing water from the mines. We were
here entirely in a region of strangers, both to our language
and religion. I heard not a word of English for
two years. But the place was delightful, the scenery
inspiring, and the people kind. So long as my dear
husband was with me, I knew no want of society or
friends. We obtained a comfortable subsistence. We

[figure description] Page 181.[end figure description]

had the good opinion and the countenance of the Conde,
and every thing went well with us. We had but this
son. He was trained to the same employment with
his father, who lived to see him able to take his place.
The damp of the mines affected his health. He took
the fever of the country. Oh! how my heart throbbed
with apprehension, till his was still in death. Thou, O
God, sawest that it was good so to be. I was stupified,
reckless, almost motionless for months. Even this
sweet scenery, which memory still paints as it was
when my husband was with me, became tame and
gloomy. I was sure, `that the world had died to me,
and I to the world.' I mourned `in secret places;'
and I now feel that it was the insane and impious grief
which rises against that decree, which is as righteous
as it is unchangeable. God, who is rich in mercy,
bore, with his own divine forbearance, this my repining
spirit. I arose from my stupefaction, and I struggled
with myself, and I prayed and communed with God,
and became gradually composed, and the spirit of
peace revisited my bosom. This dear son began to be
to me, as the husband I had lost. He came forward,
considerate, virtuous, industrious, respected even by
these people, so different in manners and religion.
Yesterday the second blow was struck. My Heavenly
Father saw that my idolatrous leaning upon the father
was about to be transferred to the son. It may be,
God will look upon this my extreme affliction, and will
stay his hand with this solemn warning. And oh! if
he will be pleased to spare this my dear son, I here

[figure description] Page 182.[end figure description]

promise, as soon as he shall recover, to strive not to
love him more than I ought. There is nothing on earth
in which to trust, but God.”

Nothing soothes the agony even of pain, like true
sympathy and tenderness of heart. I looked on this
poor widow's all. We shed tears, the mother, the son,
and the stranger, together. I sat behind the young
man, sustaining him half raised on his pillows, and was
bathing his head, and chafing his throbbing temples
with aromatic vinegar, and the mother was fanning him,
and dropping silent tears, when the door opened, and
Doña Martha entered, without being announced. The
Conde, she said, had come out to take a look at a
new mine, excavating in the side of the mountain. He
had sent by Martha, who felt no disposition to pass by
this scene of sorrow, the preparations of the family
physician for his wounds. Her steps instinctively led
her to the abode of misery. She requested that she
might be set down at the foot of the hills, whence she
walked up to the widow's cottage, to be called for on
the return of the Conde in the evening.

The day was a holiday from the usual English exercises,
and it may be supposed, that the surprise of two
such persons, who seldom saw each other, except in
the presence of prejudiced spies, thus to be sure of the
greater part of a day together, and unsuspected, was a
pleasant one. Two circumstances concurred to open
both our hearts. We were in a scene of sorrow, peculiarly
calculated to open the heart, and we were both
of us sufficiently apprised, that these interviews must

[figure description] Page 183.[end figure description]

be of short duration. I may add, that I knew enough
of her ardent and affectionate character, to know what
effect it would have upon such a nature as hers, to see
me thus occupied. And if ever beauty, united with all
the adventitious circumstances of worldly estimation,
is irresistible, it is when the eye first melts in sympathetic
participation with pain and woe, and is suffused
with the tears of unaffected pity. I discovered, by the
first affectionate look of recognition, that this was not
the first time Martha had been there. I saw, too, by a
transient look, that she thought well of that part of my
religion, which led me to spend my holiday in the
abode of sickness and sorrow. She said but a few
words to the poor widow, but it was the look that
accompanied those words, which went to my heart.
The young man next received her attention. She
gave him some cordial drops, and a balsam of the country
for embrocation, and was particular in telling the
mother all that the physician had said and prescribed
in the case. The drops were given immediately, and
I raised him, and with the assistance of his mother, we
applied to his wounds these applications, which operated
almost immediately in allaying his anguish. He first
showed tranquillity, and the moment after drowsiness,
and soon he was in a quiet and refreshing sleep, the
first he had had from the time of his receiving his
wounds.

It was natural that the mother's heart should open to
confidence and hope, and while she spoke of the extreme
forlornness and destitution in which his being

[figure description] Page 184.[end figure description]

taken away would leave her, Martha replied, “My
dear Madam, he must, and, I trust, he will recover.
Every thing that nursing and medical aid can do, we
will have done. I hope there is no ground for apprehension.
But even if things should go different from
our hopes, as long as I am here, and have the means
of aiding you, you shall have a daughter, if not a son.
You know whether you may depend upon my promise.”
Who can trace the effect of such eyes glistening with
sympathetic tears? I felt to my cost, what it was upon
me. I perceived a certain swelling of my heart, and a
thick palpitation there, which I was sure, from what I
had read, and from the deep attention I had lately
bestowed upon these feelings. I was sure was love.
“This, then,” said I, “is that terrible disorder, as
obstinately fixed upon me, as I was supposed to be upon
all my own determinations.” Never had I watched a
conversation with such an intense interest, as that of
this blooming girl, so amply endowed with the means of
kindness and aid, holding the grasped hand of this interesting
widow, and both of them dissolved in tears.

The Conde was not expected to return until evening.
Bryan was occupied in arranging her affairs in
her barn and enclosures. The mother was in the
kitchen, preparing refreshments and dinner for her
guests. The patient slept. The intense ardors of the
sun were mitigated by passing clouds, and a pleasant
breeze. “Why should we not walk,” asked Martha,
“in these beautiful groves? I wish to show you what
a strength and beauty of vegetation we have here among

[figure description] Page 185.[end figure description]

these springs at the base of these mountains. The
trees, plants, shrubs, and flowers, that are common to the
mountains and the valleys, meet here, and intermingle.
The fountains, that trickle from the roots of the hills,
irrigate the various tribes of vegetation, the vines and
copses, and give them a delicious verdure and coolness.
Here are the favourite haunts of the red-bird, the
mocking-bird, the parroquet, and the myriads of birds
with the most variegated and splendid plumage, with
which this region abounds.” “Let us walk, and enjoy
the coolness and the scenery;” and I, “nothing loath,”
I admit, walked with her under trees, every one of
which was “prodigal of harmony.” Immediately round
us, every thing was beauty and repose; but heavy
thunder, the clouds of which were not yet visible, rolled
among the mountains. The bald eagle and the falcon
raised their screams, and were soaring in the blue
above their loftiest summits. My fair companion seemed
to have laid aside her reserve and her distance of
manner. She spoke in English in pure words and correct
phrase, but with a Spanish accent, which possibly
I might not have admired, had the words been uttered
by the lips of age and deformity; and she quoted
Shakspeare with an enunciation, not perhaps like Garrick's,
but I am sure, I thought the words prettier, and
the quotation more apposite, than I had deemed them
before. I, too, had my quotations, and to tell you the
plain truth, we both of us verged rapidly towards that
confidential conversation, which both of us seemed to
have a presentiment would be our last. I cannot

[figure description] Page 186.[end figure description]

remember exactly how we arrived at the point, but we
had imperceptibly begun to say civil things to each
other, and to regret the want of opportunities to talk
with a little more freedom. Martha in particular expressed
herself with great energy upon the beauty of
the day, the place, the occasion; and admitting that
she had never enjoyed a walk so much, observed,
quoting from Othello, that if I had a friend, let him
desert the usual frivolous pursuits of young men, and
turn aside on a holiday, to comfort and nurse a sick
young man, the only son of his mother, and “she a
widow,”—let me bring such a friend to such a place,
and “that would woo her.”

Upon the hint, the same purpose with Othello's,
sprung to my lips; but prudence and honor laid their
imperious injunctions upon me, and suppressed the
expression of it. I only observed, that when I saw
such a friend standing on a precipice, with temptations
almost too strong for human nature to resist, I should
advise him, if honor or duty had placed a single obstacle
in the way of winning the prize, not to woo it,
but to fly. “In truth,” said I, “Doña Martha, if I
had not made an inviolable covenant with my thoughts
and resolutions, it would not be safe for me to be here.”
A long and foolish silence ensued, each waiting for the
other to begin the conversation again. She resumed
first, by remarking, that she had been introduced, just
before her embarkation, to the splendid court of Ferdinand
VII. “I was very young, but I had the customary
share of compliment and attention. But with what

[figure description] Page 187.[end figure description]

different sensations did my youthful imagination expatiate
in that scene of splendor and dissipation, from
the calm satisfaction of comforting the desolate heart of
this poor widow, and walking in this sweet place, contemplating
this grand and awful nature above and
around us; seeing these gay birds, dressed still more
gaudily than the ladies of that court; hearing that
distant thunder echo in the mountains; feeling myself
secure in the society of a man, who has opened
to me a new and an enchanting page in the book of
knowledge, in having taught me his language; and
finding myself here with him (both led by the same
impulse to do good) who feels on so many points
in common with myself.” I replied, by applauding her
taste, and by saying, that although poets and philosophers
had prosed upon the subject so much and so
often, it was not the less true, that there was no real
and healthful enjoyment, that would at once satisfy and
last, but that which proceeded from truth and nature.
“The real and deep satisfactions of life are cheap and
common. The feverish and noxious pleasures, that
cost much, and are seasoned with pride, luxury, and
ambition, are within the reach of but few. With respect
to the affection, upon which you have touched in quoting
from our bard, there is no doubt that luxury, and
dissipation, and splendor, and courts, are fatal to its
pure and genuine influence. That we can be happy,
let divines and poets say as they may, I know and
feel. Let the past and the future be blotted from the
records of memory. I can live long and happily on

[figure description] Page 188.[end figure description]

the remembrance of this day.” “And I, too,” she
replied, “have been so happy, that I want words to
express my sensations. I have felt before this, that
certain places and scenes, and even a certain temperature
of the air, must concur with the tone of our
thoughts and feelings, to produce high enjoyment.
What a beautiful canopy of shade! Look at that distant
outline of mountains, that seem to be points from
which the mind can take its departure towards the
eternal throne! How grand those distant peals of thunder!
And yet what repose and tranquillity about us!
Scarcely a leaf trembles, to disturb the singing of the
birds. This place, I should think, would almost suggest
thoughts of love to a philosopher, who held himself
above the joys and pursuits of the vulgar. What beautiful
verses were those which you read to me the other
day from Wordsworth. See if I quote them right.

I have heard my companions often talk with a foolish
cant about woods and solitudes, and love and a cottage.
Nothing is to me more disgusting, than the affectation
of fondness for these things, as nothing is more delightful,
than the real, deep, and cordial relish for them.
Instead of affecting any delight which I do not feel in
these simple satisfactions, how many times have I suppressed
emotions of this sort, struggling for utterance,
lest I should be thought extravagant and romantic.”

[figure description] Page 189.[end figure description]

While we were thus conversing, the thunder, which
had been rolling at a distance in the mountains, approached
nearer. The peals were more frequent, and
the echoes more loud and awful. The brassy edges
of clouds rolled together, and sweeping forward, like
the smouldering pillars of smoke from some mighty
conflagration, were seen lowering from the heights,
and beginning to cover the sun. Gleams of lightning
darted far into the regions of the atmosphere, that were
as yet of cloudless blue. The crash that followed
interrupted our conversation. “Hark,” said she,
“what terrible peals of thunder!” and she clung involuntarily
to my arm. I asked her, if she were accustomed
to be frightened at thunder. She answered,
“Not with thunder storms of a common character.
But I have been so happy, and have enjoyed these
hours so much, that I know not why, at this moment I
feel not precisely terror, but as your poet says, `awe
struck.' How grand and how awful are the forms and
foldings of those clouds, `tempest o'er tempest rolled.'
Why is it, that in such perfect repose of the heart,
and such delightful exercise of its best affections,
images of terror and destruction should bring with
them peculiar alarm? It is in these moments, when
we feel in the highest degree our capabilites of enjoyment,
that the idea of death, strikes me with chill
and with fear. `D'ou part l'éclair, que nous appelons
existence, et dans quelle nuit va-t-il s'éteindre?
L'Eternel a placé la naissance et la mort sous la forme
de deux fantômes voilés aux deux bouts de nôtre

[figure description] Page 190.[end figure description]

carrière. L'un produit l'inconcevable moment de
nôtre vie, que l'autre s'empresse de dévorer.' ”

By this time the horizon was covered. There was a
rushing sound in the air, and we were reluctantly
compelled to return to the house for shelter. The
thunder storms of the northern regions, seldom give
an idea of the assemblage of terrific accompaniments,
belonging to a severe one in the tropics. A thick
mist fills all the distance between the clouds and the
earth. A dim and yellowish twilight throws a frightful
yellow upon the verdure of the trees and the earth.
The storm was tremendous. The commencement was
in the stillness of death, and the burst of the winds was
as instantaneous, as the crash of the thunder. The
rain did not descend in drops, or in sheets, but the
terrible phenomenon of the bursting of the clouds upon
the mountains took place. The roar of the new formed
torrents and cascades, pouring from the mountains,
mingled with that of the rain, the thunder, and the
winds. The atmosphere was a continued and lurid
glare of lightning, which threw a portentous brilliance
through the descending waters and the darkness of the
storm. Many an aged tree, that had remained unscathed
for ages, was stript from its summits to its
roots by the descending fires of the sky. The people,
used as they were to thunder storms, were appalled
by the fury of this. The sick young man, aroused
from his sleep, rested his head upon his hand, and his
pains seemed to be suspended, while he contemplated
the uproar and apparent conflagration of the elements

[figure description] Page 191.[end figure description]

abroad. A blaze of lightning filled the room, and the
thunderbolt fell upon a vast eypress, but a few feet
from the house. The shock was so violent, that each
one, that was sitting in the room, was thrown from his
seat. As we recovered from the blow, we saw how
naturally, in such moments, each one flies to the object,
in which he has most confidence. The widowed
mother, sprang to the arms of her son, and Martha,
at the same moment, clung to my side. The scene,
so terific to them, was to me, one of the grandest in
nature. I enjoyed the commotion and the darkness of
the storm. All the energies of my nature were awakened.
I would have been willing, that such peals
should have been repeated every moment, so that the
bolt fell not on the house. The impulse, which had
led Martha to fly to me in the moment of terror, was
the most unequivocal proof, I had yet experienced,
that I was not indifferent to her. Here the heart had
spoken; but the moment of recovered self-possession,
replaced the paleness of surprise and terror, with the
blushes of consciousness. The entire calmness, which
I felt and avowed, drew from them expressions of
astonishment, almost of reproach. But it gradually
communicated, as it invariably does in such cases, composure
to the rest. We resumed our seats in a kind
of tranquil astonishment, as the storm gradually subsided.
The thunder rolled sublimely still, but at a greater
distance. The blue of the atmosphere began to show
itself at the zenith. The clouds rolled away towards
the east, and the sun came forth in his brightness, just

[figure description] Page 192.[end figure description]

above the smoking summits of the hills. The scene,
that was terrific in the fury of the storm, was now an indescribable
mixture of beauty and grandeur. Frequent
gleams of the most vivid lightning played on the passing
extremities of the clouds, rolled together, pile
above pile, like precipices of brass. White pillars of
mist arose from the earth. The birds welcomed the
return of the sun, and the renewed repose of nature,
with a thousand mingled songs. Occasionally, a louder
peal of thunder, made the cottage tremble to its foundation,
and the hollow roar of the torrents, that the
shower had formed in the mountains, sounded like the
distant tones of an organ.

The young man was revived, by the cheering freshness
of the atmosphere, and that balmy odour and
richness of the earth and the sky, after such a shower,
that every one has felt, and that so few have described.
We sat at the door of the cottage, looking abroad upon
the scene, and inhaling the breeze, too full at heart, and
too happy, at least two of us, for any thing, but silence
and interior enjoyment. We were aroused from our
pleasant reverie, by the rattling of the Conde's carriage,
as it drove towards the cottage. Martha turned pale,
as she discovered that we were thus recognised together.
There was no retreat. The family had not
known, that I was to visit there, and this meeting had
but too much the appearance of having been preconcerted
on both sides. This appearance was strengthened
by the evident perturbation in her face. Even
the countenance of the Condesa, as she came in, had

[figure description] Page 193.[end figure description]

an unwonted expression of severity, as she passed me
into the cottage. The Conde, the priest, and Don Pedro,
each reddened with undisguised resentment. The
physician was with them, and while he and the Conde
were examining the case of the young man, and the
Condesa was engaged in conversation with the widow,
Don Pedro requested me to walk abroad with him.
The very manner in which he made this request, was
an affront. However extraordinary the request, and the
manner in which he made it, I saw no reason why I
should decline. I foresaw, in fact, the course which
our conversation would assume. It did not contribute
to my composure, to remark, that his request had been
noticed by the Condesa and her daughter, and that
they were both, as I went out, as pale as death.

We were scarcely cleared of the cottage, before he
began in Spanish, for he was evidently in too much
perturbation, to speak in a foreign language. “Sir,
it is full time, that you and I have an explanation.” I
begged him to proceed, and tell me upon what subject.
“You know too well,” he replied, “the subject I mean.
I have had good reason before to complain, but have
forborne, till your conduct is no longer endurable. I
find you here in company with Doña Martha. The
meeting is evidently preconcerted. When a young
lady of her rank and standing so degrades herself,
whatever may be her share of the fault and folly, I
shall consider you answerable for the whole. You are
perfectly aware of my right to interfere in the case.
You must be equally aware, that at this stage of your stay

[figure description] Page 194.[end figure description]

in a family where accident has given you claims that
you seem disposed to prosecute to the utmost, seeking
opportunities of private interviews with that lady, must
be as unpleasant and offensive to her parents, as it is
affronting to me. You seem to have imposed upon
her gratitude, and subsequently, to have weakened her
reason and good sense, to the point of inducing her
to dishonor her noble name and family. The parents
have finally seen their error in allowing themselves to
be influenced by the foolish fancies of their daughter.
They propose a summary way of bringing this affair
to a crisis. But it is my cause, and I propose to take
it into my own hands. I wave all objections to you on
the score of birth, standing, and character. If you are
the undoubted chevalier, which you are estimated from
one fortunate adventure, you will meet me, and we will
decide our pretensions to the young lady in question,
in the proper way. If you refuse, she will at least see
the true nature of the heroism of her chivalrous and
heretical champion. You understand me, sir?”

“Yes,” I answered, somewhat bitterly. “Your
head, heart, and language are but too easily comprehended.
In the first place, sir, you have no right
whatever to tax me in this way. I respect myself too
much, and you too little, to vindicate myself, or obviate
your charges. I owe it to Doña Martha, however, still
more than to myself (for I would not reply to it on my
own account), to affirm on my honor, that no knowledge
of her intended visit here, induced me to come, and
that if I had known that she would have been here,

[figure description] Page 195.[end figure description]

I should not have come myself. For the rest, sir,
whether I am brave, or a coward, it becomes not me
to say. It is contrary to my settled principles of right
and wrong, contrary to my religious, my heretical principles,
if you please, to fight a duel. No temptation
shall seduce me, no provocation goad me, to violate my
principles. Doña Martha, and every other person, will
think me chevalier, or not, as they choose. I will not
meet you in that way. Even upon your calculations,
in staking our lives on this issue, I do not estimate the
stakes to be equal. Whatever difference fortune has
made between us, I have always felt myself, I will not
say so much above you, but so different from you, that
all your attempts to insult me, have been, and are now
utterly unavailing.”

This I said firmly, and in good set Spanish. It
seemed equally to rouse his confidence and his rage.
He seemed to have had some modest apprehensions
that I would fight him. When they were removed, his
insolence knew no bounds. He poured out terms corresponding
to the words, poltron, coward, scoundrel, &c.
in rapid succession, and told me, that if he did not fear
the interference of the family, he would chastise me
with his cane on the spot. I was wholly unarmed, but
in bodily strength much his superior. I advanced near
him, and directly in front, eyeing him sternly, “Sir,”
said I, “that is another affair. Nothing will provoke
me to be the aggressor, and nothing will make me swerve
from my purpose not to fight you. Attempt the least
personal violence, and, Sir, I have principles for that

[figure description] Page 196.[end figure description]

emergency. Touch me, Sir, and you will know in a
moment the power of my muscles, and I have a surmise,
that one experiment would satisfy you for ever.”
In his trembling hands, and in his pale face, and a kind
of impulse to retreat, I saw that he was not nerved to
the point of immediate contest. He retired, uttering
as he went, the terms “loquacious coward,” and entered
the cottage, and the family soon after took their
leave. I entered the cottage, and repeated my offers
of watching and aid, received the affectionate and cordial
thanks of the widow, and followed the carriage at
a distance.

On my return, I learned by Bryan, that Don Pedro
had been particular to have it known that he had challenged
me, and that I had refused to fight him, “And,”
said he, “God bless your Honor, but it has turned the
Conde's heart still more against you. Every tongue
wags upon the subject, but Martha's, and she, the jewel,
just turned her face, and looked t'other way. Every
body fights here, when he is asked. Ah! by St.
Patrick, had it been me, your Honor, that he had been
asking that way, he should have tasted my shelalah,
any how. I see clearly that your Honor has to leave
the family, and this business of learning them English.
May be, it is not your Honor's way of doing business.
Even the jewel herself would have liked you none the
worse, for giving that grim whelp a basting.”

Thus I saw that even the kind heart of Bryan had
been carried away by their prejudices, and chilled
against me, for refusing to fight. You must be

[figure description] Page 197.[end figure description]

perfectly aware, how strongly the current sets in the southern
and western country against the young man, who
refuses a challenge. It is considered not only as the
touchstone of courage, but the test of all kinds of worth.
An unknown young man can hardly expect to sail before
the full gale of public opinion, until he has been
known to have fought, or to have given a challenge.
A prejudice so brutal, pervades all classes of the community.
Even the few, who profess to act under the
influence of the Gospel, evidently grow cool towards a
person, after he has been known to have refused a
challenge. The same prejudice to the same extent
prevailed here. I no longer disguised from myself that
I loved Martha fervently, and with all my soul. I had
flattered myself that I was beloved in turn, and persons
at that time of life who love, and believe themselves
beloved, will conjure up visions of hope. Impossibilities
vanish before the buoyancy of youthful hope and love.
I knew her heart, and the excellence of her understanding,
and the correctness of her moral feelings.
But I knew, too, that the strongest minds never completely
disentangle themselves from the ties of the web
of early associations and impressions. It was a reflection
of unmingled bitterness, that I should, after all, be
banished from the palace, my pursuits, and Martha,
and be stigmatized as a coward; while the only achievement
that I ever fancied I had performed, would be laid
to accident, and I be thought to retreat before the insults
of the acknowledged admirer of Martha, and my avowed
enemy from the first. I found it hard, and even

[figure description] Page 198.[end figure description]

impossible to tranquillize my feelings by recurring to my principles.
I thought, for this ride, with the admirable, but
vanquished and forsaken Brutus, “O virtue, I have worshipped
thee as a real divinity, and I find thee but an
empty name.” It was not long that I “chewed the cud
of these bitter fancies,” before I retracted all my infidelity
as to the doctrine, that Virtue is her own divine
reward. We rode on in silence, for even Bryan, having
given unequivocal vent to his feelings, and having said
his say, rode beside me in a kind of sullen silence.

As we approached the river, near the castle, the twilight
was fast fading away. The carriage might be in
advance of us a third of a mile. I heard a loud and
mingled shriek of terror and distress. We put spurs to
our horses, and were on the banks of the river in a
moment. Our arrival was at a critical period for the
family. The carriage, and all that were in it, had been
carried away with the horses by the stream. The
coach-door was closed, and the Conde, his lady, and
their daughter were drowning, without the possibility,
as it seemed, of escape. The attendant servants on
horseback and the physician had crossed by swimming,
and were crying for help on the opposite bank. The
priest, with either a more reverend care for his health,
or with earlier foresight of the danger, had cleared himself
of the carriage, and hung fast to the roof. Don
Pedro, too, had been in season to escape, and had
floated before the furious current, until he had seized a
long branch, which waved up and down, and sometimes
sunk him quite under the water. He and the priest

[figure description] Page 199.[end figure description]

appeared to strive which should bawl most lustily for
help. Bryan did not want for energy, but he seemed
as one distracted. The physician and the servants, the
coachman and footmen, who were all safe ashore on
the opposite bank, answered to all these cries of distress
by still louder shrieks, by crossing themselves,
telling their beads, and making vows to Our Lady of the
Pillar. I stripped myself to my pantaloons in a moment,
plunged into the foaming current, and found the advantage
of having been an early and an expert swimmer.
The horses were already sunk and drowned, and the
carriage, impeded in its downward course by swinging
against a clump of small trees in the stream, just sunk
the party shut up in it, up to their chins, and sometimes
under water, according to the waving of the bushes.
The priest on the roof begged me for the love of God
and the Virgin, to give him the first deliverance. I disregarded
his cries, and was obliged to dive in order to get
at the opening of the door. I soon rescued the Conde,
who was nearest the door, and who was not so exhausted,
but what he was able to swim ashore. I then drew
out the Condesa and her daughter, who both clung to
me at once, and I was in danger of being drowned with
them. I disengaged their hands, which they clasped
firmly upon each of my arms, and pushed them from
me at my arm's length. The Condesa and her daughter,
disengaged from me, clung to each other. I grasped
the robe of the mother with one hand, and with great
offorts contrived to waft them, almost unconscious and
half drowned, ashore. To some in my situation, it would

[figure description] Page 200.[end figure description]

have almost furnished amusement to hear the lusty cries
of the two friends of mine still in the stream. As Don
Pedro seemed in the greatest danger, I purposed to
rescue him first. I rested a moment on the bank to
recover breath, and then plunged in. He had, as I have
remarked, enormous black whiskers. I remembered
his recent insults. I twisted my fingers in the curls of
his whiskers, by which I had the finest management
of him, and in this manner I fished this young limb
of the Spanish nobility safely from the stream.

The father alone remained perched on the roof, and
he was now apparently sinking. His cries of “Help!
murder! I drown!” were interrupted by loud and
earnest recitations of the pater noster, and prayers to
the Virgin. I took one end of a handkerchief, and
gave him the other to hold, and in this way I brought
him off safe. Horses and servants had already conveyed
the father, the mother, and daughter to the house.
Don Pedro, exhausted with fear and the water he had
swallowed, was obliged to be aided to the house. The
priest had suffered in no other way, than by fright.
On the road to the house, I was informed that the
coachman drove the carriage down the usual ford. The
horses had been accustomed to pass it so frequently,
that they plunged into it, not observing that by the late
shower it had been swollen to a furious torrent. Just
below the usual ford, a bar, that reached across the
channel, fell perpendicularly into a broad and deep
basin. The horses were frightened with the unusual
fury and foaming of the current, and plunged, and were

[figure description] Page 201.[end figure description]

immediately carried over the bar, and the disaster had
happened in this way.

The following morning I had a visit in my own apartment
from the Conde before breakfast. He saluted
me gravely, and with great deference. “You are an
astonishing man,” said he; “and if I believed in destiny,
I should be compelled to suppose that fate had
some how united the influence of your star with mine.
You may not have known that I have been suffering
among my best, in fact, my only friends, for retaining
in my family such a young man, a heretic, a republican,
of the same nation, and participating the same sentiments,
no doubt, with men, who are now united with
the rebellious creoles in an insurrection against my
government. I have vindicated your integrity. I have
indignantly repelled charges against you, as a dangerous
man. I have urged obligations of such a nature, as
could never be repaid. With respect to fears from
another quarter, they might be excusable in Don Pedro,
but I would hope, that nothing could ever influence my
daughter to do violence to her standing and religion,
by the thought of a mis-alliance. You have been made
aware, how incompatible we have considered your nation,
religion, and condition of life with mine. I feel it
necessary to be perfectly frank with you. I have admired
your character, at the same moment that I have
entertained these views. I have suffered so much from
suspicion, my government having had to encounter
charges diametrically opposite, and the father and Don
Pedro have had so much to say against your residence

[figure description] Page 202.[end figure description]

here, that I had yesterday, after seeing you with my
daughter at the widow's cottage, determined to break
with you, and dismiss you. I found, on inquiry of her,
that this meeting was merely accidental, and without
concert. Returning from that meeting, you have triumphed
over us all again. We appear to be plunged
into danger, only to bring you to our rescue. It was a
noble return to Don Pedro for the insults of an hour before.
I owe you my life, in common with the rest. Even
the father admits, that he is ashamed to see you, after
what you have done for him. My wife and daughter,
God be praised, are quite recovered this morning.
Our proverb says, `that words are wind.' I am so
peculiarly situated, that I know not how to frame words
in which to thank you. If money could discharge my
obligations, and you would receive it, I would soon
wipe out the score. We all feel as we ought, and you
should place all our distrust of you merely to circumstances,
and our peculiar position. Shall I be still plainer?
My daughter probably feels too much, though, as I
have said, I have had no fears that either of you would
depart from the decorum expected from both. She is,
as you must see, my all, the apple of my eye. There
is not an alliance that fits us in all the government, but
that of Don Pedro. He is noble, rich, brave, loyal, a
colonel, high in the favor of this government, of the
same race and religion, in short, compatible in every
respect. I grant you to be worthy in the endowments
of nature, but I need not contrast you with him in some
of these particulars. My first object ought to be my

[figure description] Page 203.[end figure description]

own fame and honor. The next dearest point on earth
is, to see my daughter united to Don Pedro, to continue
my race and honors, when I am no more. I put it to
yourself to weight these circumstances. These evil
times, upon which we are fallen, give them an invincible
pressure at this time. It distresses me to tell you,
that I was forewarned of the result of permitting your
stay in my family. I flattered myself, that my daughter
would see all these things, as I see them. I perceive
that I mistook, from a blind confidence in her pride.
You have been too long and too intimately known to
her, for her repose. I acquit you, from my heart, of
every thing that is not perfectly correct and honorable
in your intercourse with her. But if you were to leave
us now, even after you have saved her a second time,
she is a woman, and you know, semper varium et mutabile.
Time will operate upon her, as upon upon the
rest. The peace and honor of her and of my family
are now in your hands. I have tried you sufficiently
upon the score of compensation. I can offer you nothing,
and you must rest satisfied with the applauses of
your own noble heart. And in your own country,
which I believe to be, as you represent it, great and
rising, such a mind as yours cannot fail to find its place,
and meet its reward. Were you a royalist and a Catholic,
untitled, and without a peso, you should fight Don
Pedro, for I do not believe you want courage, and
you should be my son-in-law. I can only mourn, as it
is, your unchangeable perseverance, and leave you to
infer my wishes.”

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I have observed in such cases, that the first resolution
which offers, is ordinarily the right one; and that all
attempts to gain time for deliberation, are poor efforts
to throw dust in the eyes of conscience. The undisguised
and frank admissions of the Conde placed the
straight course clearly in my view. I might regret as
bitterly as I would, the obstacles of prejudice, nation,
birth, wealth, and religion. But these obstacles were
not the less real, or unchangeable. My conscience
admitted even, that they existed every where. Though
I was not sharp-sighted enough to see the utility of
these things in the general system, I was not repining
enough to doubt that they have their advantages in the
order of things. I painfully felt that I loved Martha,
but I hope I might say, without boasting, that I loved
honor and duty more. I admitted, then, to him in
reply, that I had staid too long in his family, if not
for his daughter's peace, at least for my own; that I
was well aware of all the obstacles of which he had
been pleased to remind me, but that I was no swindling
adventurer to take advantage of his confidence and of
circumstances; and that I would repair my fault as fast
as possible, by leaving his family, and returning to my
own country, never, I hoped, to leave it again. I assured
him, that my residence for even this short time
in his country, had learned me one great, practical
lesson, and that was, suitably to prize every thing that
appertained to my own.

He politely tried to disguise his joy at this determination,
and the old topic of compensation was resumed,

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