[figure description] Page 073.[end figure description]

The first sound that saluted the ear of Sidney, on
awaking next morning, was the voice of Harvey, who
entered the chamber bearing a large pitcher of fresh
water: he informed the gentlemen breakfast was ready.
The sunbeams were shining brightly through the thin
muslin window curtains, and Harvey, to their interrogatories,
replied it was past eight o'clock; “but ma',” said
he, “would not have you called before, though we always
breakfast at seven.”

“She is a blessed woman,” said Frankford, “and I do
not wonder, Romilly, you wished me to accompany you
home. The only strange thing is, that when you had
such a good, affectionate, and lovely family to welcome
you, you could stay so many years from their embraces.”

“I think myself it is strange,” replied Sidney; “but
till my education was completed, my uncle would never
consent to my coming, and since that period he has
always seemed unwilling; yet I will not blame him entirely.
Till within a few months, pleasure has been the
idol of my pursuit; and I have, I believe, sought it in
every place except where alone it is to be found—in a
virtuous home.” He sighed as he concluded.

“You seem to be spiritually minded this morning,”

[figure description] Page 074.[end figure description]

said Frankford, stretching himself and yawning. “And
so all your follies are to be given to the winds, I suppose;
at least, while you are here. It is best, perhaps, for I
have been told that politics and religion are the only
subjects which excite an interest in Yankee society.”

On descending to the sitting room, where the breakfast
table was spread—that apartment serving for many purposes—
they found all the family assembled, every eye
bright with benevolence, and every face looking like the
personification of happiness.

To the inquiries of “how they rested?” and “how
they liked their accommodations?” the Englishman expressed
his entire satisfaction; and launching forth in
encomiums on his bed, he declared it was the very best
he had found in America, and fully equal to any in his
own country.

Mrs. Romilly, a good but a true woman, was not insensible
to flattery; at least, it might have been thus
inferred from the delight which diffused itself over her
comely countenance on hearing these praises; and it was
afterwards often remarked by her neighbors, that they
never knew Mrs. Romilly so taken with any stranger as
she was with that Englishman.

Their table was, if possible, more plentifully supplied
than on the preceding evening; and Sidney observed,
that he feared they had forestalled their dinner, as he did
not see how they could be gratified with a greater variety.

“Your mother will answer for that,” replied the Squire;
“she has a plenty of niceties still in store for us, I presume;
but we must all attend church to-day, and endeavor
to fit our hearts, as well as appetites, to enjoy with
advantage to ourselves the blessings a kind Providence
is continually bestowing.”

This speech led to inquiries concerning the clergyman,
and Sidney was glad to hear Mr. Cranfield still continued
to officiate.

“And what has become of George?” he inquired.

“Well,” replied his father, “he has been through college,
and, as I hear, was called an excellent scholar. He

[figure description] Page 075.[end figure description]

is now at home studying divinity with his father, and
promises to be an ornament to his profession.”

“You will see him this evening,” said Mrs. Romilly,
nodding to Sidney; “he is to be the bridesman.”

Mr. Frankford now made some inquiries concerning
who was to be married, which elicited an account of the
arrangements for the evening, and a cordial invitation to
join the festivity and witness the marriage.

“Nothing,” said he, “could give me greater satisfaction,
except being myself the principal on such an occasion;”
and he gazed so earnestly at Sophia, that her face,
which happened at the moment to be turned towards him
as she handed him some cakes, was crimsoned to her
forehead.

As he withdrew his eyes, they met Sidney's—their
keen glance seeming to say, “Beware of trifling here;
we are proud as you!”—and Frankford, abashed, resumed
his breakfast.

“These Yankees,” thought he, “intend to be very
dignified.”

Just as they had risen from the table, Harvey, who
was standing by the window, exclaimed—“There! Dr.
Perkins is coming now; he said he should call this morning
and see brother Sidney.”

“And who is Dr. Perkins?” asked Sidney.

“Why, don't you remember Warren Perkins?” inquired
his father.

“To be sure I do,” returned Sidney: “he and George
Cranfield were my dearest friends. But is he really metamorphosed
into a doctor of physic?”

“Indeed he is,” replied Mrs. Romilly, “and an excellent
one too. He has all the practice, now old Dr.
Rodgers is dead; and I never heard a word of fault found
with him, except by Mrs. Watson, and she always has
something to say against every one.”

“And every one against her, of course,” said Sidney.
“Your slanderers are the Arabs of society; their hand
against every one, and every one's hand against them.
And though they deprive many of character, they are

[figure description] Page 076.[end figure description]

still destitute themselves; as the descendants of Ishmael
live in wretchedness while the plundered wealth of caravans
is scattered around them.”

Here he was interrupted by the entrance of Dr. Perkins,
a robust, florid complexioned, happy looking fellow,
with a sort of comical shrewdness in his small blue eyes,
that instantly revealed the lover of fun and frolic; yet
the child of misfortune would have addressed him, confident
of succeeding in any request that appealed to his
heart.

It is useless to attempt a description of these meetings.
Those who have souls will understand what they must
have been; and those who have none are requested to
lay down this volume—it was not written for them. If,
after this fair warning, they will read on, I shall not
think myself amenable to their criticism. To the dull,
all books will be dull.

“You are altered, Sidney,” said Dr. Perkins, “besides
your growth, for which I was prepared. You have lost
much of that fairness of complexion which used to make
you so handsome. And I may be allowed to remember
it, for, to confess the truth, I used to think, when we
were at school together, that the teachers, school-mistresses
in particular, were always partial to you; but what it
could be for, except your good looks, I never could divine.”

“Then you attributed nothing to his superior industry
and application to his book,” said Squire Romilly, who
still remembered that Sidney was always allowed to be
the best scholar.

“I think, sir,” replied Dr. Perkins, “there must be a
cause before an effect; and that it is encouragement and
attention on the part of the teacher which makes good
and attentive scholars. I was always called an unlucky
rogue; they knew by my countenance I was one, and
accordingly I was watched and punished; and thus the
faculties of my mind were more directed to deceive them
and escape punishment, than to acquire learning. Sidney,
on the contrary, had such a pleasant, amiable

[figure description] Page 077.[end figure description]

looking face, that he was patted on the head, called a fine fellow,
and had full confidence placed in his integrity, and
this animated him to deserve it. Whatever you wish to
make a child, treat him as such, and you will seldom be
disappointed.”

“But, Warren,” said Sidney, “it don't appear that you
have suffered at all for your juvenile follies. You are
now a physician, with a diploma, and I have no such
honors to boast.”

“You never sought them,” answered Perkins. “Wealth
and distinction were yours without exertion; but I have
been compelled to save every sixpence, or go without
my dinner, and force my way upward by main strength,
or run the risk of being precipitated to the bottom by
some jostling competitor. And thus, partly necessity
and partly competition, have operated to make me what
I am—a poor physician, who will do his best for any patient
that pays him well; yet nature has still a nook in
my heart, and I can love and serve a friend without
pay.”

“I wish I could give as good an account of myself,”
said Sidney, laughing; “but mine has been a kind of
life more pleasant to pass than profitable to relate. I
have seen much, and studied little; resolved great things,
and done nothing at all—nothing, at least, that I can
claim any merit for having performed.”

“And do you call saving my life a performance of no
merit?” asked Frankford. “I never knew before how
low you rated me.”

“Then he did save your life?” repeated Mrs. Romilly,
her countenance brightening. “I knew Sidney had done
some good; it is his disposition; and now Providence
has given him the means, he would be criminal to do
otherwise. And 'tis just so with all my children; I never
knew one of 'em that would ever hurt a fly. There's
Silas, now,” and she looked around to assure herself he
was absent, “he will make one of the best husbands in
the world.”

[figure description] Page 078.[end figure description]

“And to-night is his wedding,” said Dr. Perkins;
“faith, I had forgotten it.”

“You are going?” said Mrs. Romilly.

“Certainly,” he replied, “I would not miss this wedding
for the fees of a month. There will be the old
Deacon, puffing and preaching, all smoke and original
sin. Have you forgotten, Sidney, how the school-master
flogged me for robbing the Deacon's pear tree? That
was the last flagrant breach of the eighth commandment
I was ever guilty of. The master's ferule, or the Deacon's
lecture, effectually convinced me of my fault, and induced
a thorough reformation.”

“I have entirely forgotten the circumstance,” said Sidney.
“Indeed, I recollect but very little about Deacon
Jones, except his sour looks, and how my mother once
scolded me for saying he resembled a crab apple. I believe
it was the only witty thing I ever attempted.”

The conversation now became more desultory, if possible;
and though many things were said, at which the
party laughed heartily, readers might not be so humorously
inclined. Indeed, to relish a good thing, the hearer
must sympathize with the speaker; and jests that convulse
an audience with merriment, often appear exceedingly
silly when published as bon mots. For these reasons
I shall omit many conversations, which, as they
actually occurred during the visit of my hero, I had
taken down with all an author's accuracy, for publication;
but the difficulty of making them understood, and the
fear of swelling the work beyond fashionable limits, prevented
their insertion.

At length, after the most urgent invitations to Mr.
Frankford and Sidney to visit him and spend a month,
if possible, and see his wife and two boys, and telling
them that they should meet again in the evening, Dr.
Perkins took his leave.

“A doctor, you call him!” said Frankford; “I should
sooner think him a Merry Andrew.”

“You will find, sir,” said Squire Romilly, “that notwithstanding
this appearance of careless humor, which is

[figure description] Page 079.[end figure description]

constitutional, he is a man of strong talents, and sound
judgment; and he has not only a practically useful, but
even a classical education, though almost entirely self-acquired.
And a more honest man, or sincere friend, or
better citizen, I do not believe exists! He and Deacon
Jones are often at variance on religious opinions; but I
tell the deacon, if Warren Perkins' principles are unsound,
his practice might be an example for the most
rigid professor.”

“What is he,” asked Frankford carelessly, “a deist?”

“A deist!” repeated the Squire, “no, indeed; there
never was a deist in this town, I guess. He only objects
to the doctrine of the decrees and election; and to confess
the truth, I don't think them subjects of very profitable
discussion. But the deacon thinks otherwise; and
if our minister followed his advice, we should have nothing
but doctrinal discourses. However, Mr. Cranfield
manages to satisfy the deacon tolerably well; and,
indeed, it is impossible for any one to dislike him. Even
the most opposite in sentiment are equally charmed with
his preaching, and his spotless life bids defiance to censure.
But you will have an opportunity of hearing him
to-day, and then he will not need my praises to recommend
him.”

Mr. Frankford smiled almost contemptuously, that a
Yankee puritanical preacher should be considered an object
of any interest to him, who had heard the most eloquent
and learned doctors of divinity declaim without
any sensations save of weariness, and had thought the
conclusion far the best division of the discourse.

“I believe,” said he, “I shall hardly feel in health to
attend to-day.”

At this declaration the whole family appeared so distressed
for fear he needed some remedy which they had
not yet provided; and their inquiries and solicitude
about his disorder, and sorrow and disappointment that
he was not to hear their Thanksgiving sermon, were so
overwhelming and sincere, that the apathy of the Englishman
was overcome.

[figure description] Page 080.[end figure description]

“I cannot,” thought he, “refuse to make these kind
creatures happy when it depends only on appearing so
myself. I will go to their meeting, and, if possible, refrain
from ridiculing the oddities and absurdities I shall
undoubtedly see and hear.”

The whole family, Sophia excepted, were soon arrayed
in their best, and ready for church. She was left at home
to superinted the various operations of stewing, roasting,
baking, &c., which were in the full tide of successful
experiment, and required careful attention.

“Sophia,” said her mother, “can manage such matters
better than Lucy, though she would do them nicely.
But Sophia is going to the ball to-morrow evening, and
so is willing to stay at home to-day.”

“Then you dance in this country,” said Frankford.
“I thought that was a prohibited amusement with your
religionists.”

“It has been so, in particular places,” replied the
Squire, “but there is now less of opposition. For my
own part, I never could see any enormous wickedness in
dancing, when managed with decorum and followed with
moderation. I have always permitted my children to
attend, and should have made no objection to their taking
a few lessons in the art, had there been an opportunity;
but some of my brethren in the church were so
bitterly opposed that no school for teaching it could be
established in this town.”

“Deacon Jones, in particular,” said Mrs. Romilly,
“thinks it the unpardonable sin, and he has been here
to give me and the children many a lecture, and argued
the matter with my husband till I have been vexed beyond
measure—he is so unreasonable, and so set in his
way.”

“And probably honest in his opinion now,” replied
the Squire, “whatever he was when adopting it. Men
cannot, for any length of time, defend a system without
becoming convinced of its truth, especially if its tenets
are much controverted. The arguments they advance
may fail to convince an opponent, but are not lost on

[figure description] Page 081.[end figure description]

themselves; they strengthen their zeal, till creeds, which
at first were adopted without reflection or consistency,
shall become the polar star of their existence. How
carefully should we examine a proposition that affects
our morals or happiness, before we admit its truth, or
advocate its requirements!”

All were now assembled, and the bell had ceased ringing
as they set off. Squire Romilly was arrayed in a
suit of black, home made merino, and Silas in one of
deep blue—bran new for the wedding. Mrs. Romilly
wore a black satin dress, Lucy a changeable silk, and the
children looked not only neat, but handsomely attired.

The church stood about eighty rods from Squire Romilly's,
but so punctual were the parishioners to be “in
season,” that all had entered before he arrived. His seat
was the second in the middle aisle, an excellent one for
observation; its situation enabling the occupants to see,
to the best advantage, not only the clergyman, but nearly
all the congregation.

Mr. Frankford had the best corner assigned him, and
Sidney sat by his mother, who experienced a triumph
which a queen might have envied, in seeing the eyes of
her acquaintance so often turned towards him. It was
the triumph of maternal feeling.

Frankford had determined to be entirely at ease, and
look about him, as such an opportunity for commenting
on the real Yankee phiz, especially when lengthened by
the solemnity of his severe devotions, might never again
occur.

The psalm was performing when they entered. The
tune was “Old Hundred,” with a bass viol for an accompaniment.
They sung with energy, and made up in tone
what they lacked in harmony; yet there were some fine
tenor voices, and the Englishman allowed the performance
to be tolerable, but he said there was wanting the
full, swelling peal of the organ, to lift the soul to heaven;
and nothing could in church music, he thought, supply
the place of that instrument.

Mr. Cranfield had been reclining in the pulpit, so as

[figure description] Page 082.[end figure description]

not to be visible, but a moment after the singing ceased,
he arose, and the whole congregation, by a simultaneous
movement, arose with him, “and stood up.” When,
clasping his hands, he raised his eyes towards heaven,
where the prayer he poured forth seemed ascending, Mr.
Frankford admitted the possibility that his talents might
merit the praises they had received.

Not a foot was moved nor a loud breathing heard; all
seemed to realize that they were in the presence of a
holy God; and when the amen was pronounced, there
was not a heart in the assembly that could not have responded,
“so be it!”

Again they sung, and then Mr. Cranfield, who had been
industriously turning over the leaves of his Bible as if
searching for his text, arose, and looking around, a profound
silence was maintained, while, with a slow and
solemn pronunciation, he “invited their serious attention
to what might be offered from that portion of the sacred
scriptures recorded in the prophet Isaiah, twenty-sixth
chapter and fifteenth verse:

`Thou hast increased the nation, O Lord, thou hast
increased the nation: thou art glorified; thou hast removed
it far unto all the ends of the earth.”'

That the whole sermon is not inserted is no fault of
mine, and well was it worthy of being so; but the copy
could not be obtained. Mr. Cranfield, with the usual
modesty of pulpit orators, refusing it for publication, I
can give only such an imperfect sketch as the recollection
of one of the audience could supply.

After an appropriate exordium, descriptive of the happiness
and security of that “nation whom God increased,”
the orator adverted to America, succinctly mentioning
its settlement by the pilgrims; their persecutions in the
old world, and the perils they braved in the new, and
the influence which their character had exerted in fashioning
the minds of their descendants.

From thence the transition was easy to the war of our
revolution, which was waged in resistance of oppression;
and in detailing some of its most trying scenes, he showed

[figure description] Page 083.[end figure description]

plainly that “if the Lord had not been on our side when
men rose up against us, we should indeed have been
swallowed up.”

Then he noticed our excellent institutions, securing
the liberty and happiness of the people on the broad
foundations of intelligence and public virtue; and drawing
a picture of the prosperity of our country, he anticipated
its probable increase, power, and glory, by an
estimate of its hitherto rapid growth, and unparalleled
and almost inexhaustible resources.

No eye was closed during the sermon, nor was a nod,
or even a look or action, expressive of weariness, seen
throughout the assembly. With eyes riveted on the
speaker, old and young sat motionless; except, at times,
a half curious, half gratified glance was directed towards
the pew where sat the Englishman, to learn, if possible,
how he relished such sentiments.

And he afterwards acknowledged, that never, during
his life, had he experienced such a variety of emotions.
His contempt for itinerant or uneducated clergymen,
among whom he supposed were ranked all in America,
excepting a few in the cities, had led him to expect nothing
more than a rhapsody in favor of some exclusive
dogma, or a rant against some prevailing sin. Little had
he anticipated the beauties of a chaste and classical composition;
the polished period; the clear and concise, yet
animated description; the pathetic appeal; the lofty sentiment;
and the soul-stirring patriotism, that seemed,
like a shock of electricity, to thrill the nerves of the
audience, and even, in spite of his prejudices, made his
own tremble.

He knew very well, that America had been discovered
and settled, and that the States had gained their independence;
but he seemed now to learn it for the first
time. He knew, too, that his countrymen had been
beaten by these rebels, and little had he recked of the
matter; but now, when the orator, in describing the
tremendous struggle, alluded to Bunker Hill and the
little band of patriots who, fighting their first fight in

[figure description] Page 084.[end figure description]

defense of their liberties, met and defied the proud
power of Britain, when he told of the twice routed foe,
and the wasteful carnage before succeeding to dislodge
the Americans, Mr. Frankford shaded his face with his
hand, and internally vowed never to listen to another
Yankee Thanksgiving discourse.

The orator did not stop at the point where his hearers
naturally concluded he would, the acme of the prosperity
and glory of his own country; he glanced at the
probable consequences such an event would have on the
nations of the old world, and particularly on that from
which we were descended. He dwelt on the advantages
which would accrue to England from an intercourse with
independent America, proving it to promise far more
important benefits than could have been realized from
colonies; that the community of language, similarity of
laws, customs, habits, and religion, formed a bond of
union between the two countries, which nothing but the
most pernicious policy or absurd prejudices on the part
of Great Britain, would prevent from operating to increase
her resources, and perpetuate the grandeur of her
name and character.

“Great Britain,” said he, “once called herself our
mother, and though far from being an indulgent one,
we do not deny her maternity; but there is a period
when nations, as well as individuals, quit their minority,
and if the parent country would continue the parallel of
relationship which subsists in families, she will not consider
her independent offspring as her natural enemy.”

“Suppose a mother had a daughter who was, on some
occasions, self-willed, and finally married against her
consent, would she, breathing a malediction against her
child, endeavor to accomplish her ruin? Would she
not, rather, secretly rejoice in her prosperity, and, taking
the first decent opportunity for a reconciliation, renew
those offices of kindness and generosity which those of
the same blood should ever be ready to reciprocate?
And do we not see instances where a mother finds, not
only a useful friend in the child she once discarded, but

[figure description] Page 085.[end figure description]

even a supporter in the imbecility of age, and one who
will afford an asylum when no other protector is to be
found?

“When Alexander sacked Tyre, and made that
haughty city a heap of ruins, the Carthagenians who
were present conveyed many of the Tyrians to a place
of safety; they remembered they were the descendants
of a Tyrian colony. `The things which have been, are
those which shall be.' Where are the mighty empires
and proud cities of antiquity? They have passed away
like the chaff of the summer threshing floor, or left only
memorial ruins to waken the sigh of the traveler, or to
gratify the researches of the antiquary! And will Great
Britain, think ye, be exempted from the operation of
those universal laws of nature which have governed all
created things on this globe, and all their works? Will
not luxury enervate her spirit as it did that of Greece?
Will not the extension of her empire weaken her power,
as it did that of Rome? Will she not, like them, have
her period of growth, of maturity, and of decay?

“Yes, I repeat—her period of decay—though heaven
forbid she should, like the heathen nations, fall to rise
no more! The word of God is in her homes, and the
light of the hallowed Sabbath on her hills and pleasant
places. But her haughty pride must be humbled, and
her power will suffer an eclipse. The nations of Europe
will band against her, for she has trampled them down
in her day of triumph; and she has the light of freedom,
which tyrants hate. The nations will gather
against her, and she will be sorely beset.

“And then will America remember her; and here
shall her exiles and her fugitives find a refuge and a
home. Here, mingling with a people descended from
the same stock, speaking the same language, inheriting
the same passion for liberty, and worshiping the same
God—brothers and christians—they will feel that they
yet have a country.

“I consider the settlement of the United States by
Englishmen, and its separation from the mother country,

[figure description] Page 086.[end figure description]

as two of the most fortunate events which could have
occurred to the kingdom of Great Britain. A young
and mighty nation is here rising, a nation which the
`Lord has increased,' and whose borders `are far removed,
even unto all the ends of the earth,' and this
nation will perpetuate the names and achievements of
Englishmen—even should the monuments of that now
glorious land be crumbled into dust!”

Frankford looked up during this, and every word fell
on his heart. He could not forbear thinking it was purposely
designed for him; others were likewise of the
same opinion. And perhaps they were right in their
conjectures, as Mr. Cranfield had, late on the preceding
evening, been informed of the arrival of Sidney Romilly
and his English friend; and he might—his office was
to win souls and teach good-will to the children of men—
take the only but doubtful method of giving the whole
view of the subject, to soothe the feelings of the stranger,
after listening to an eulogium on a country which
he had probably been taught to execrate as ungrateful,
or despise as insignificant.

A short and impressive prayer closed the services of
the day, which will never be forgotten, either by the
Romilly family or the Englishman—they connect it with
the return of a beloved son or brother; he refers to it
as an original exhibition of piety, patriotism, and eloquence.

p561-092

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