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THE death of Fidelia's father had changed the quiet happy
home of the old sailor into a house of mourning, but
the visits of John were not the less frequent therefor; he was
unwearied in his attention to the old couple, and strove, by
all the means in his power to make them forget their loss.
He promised to be to them a son, and doubtless Fidelia's grief
was greatly mitigated by his tender solicitude for her welfare.
At the request of the old sailor he had administered upon her
father's estate, and had taken possession of the property left
by him, some five or six thousand dollars. The sad event
that had thrown them all in mourning, had prevented any
arrangements for the marriage, and the day that he so anxiously
wished for, was deferred until time should dry up their
tears. In the mean time he was preparing a little surprise
for them, or rather for Fidelia, for she filled his mind to the
exclusion of almost every body besides. He had purchased
a few acres on the sunny side of Staten Island and had built
a cottage that he meant to present to her as a bridal gift. It
stood on a gentle eminence, overlooking the sea and the highlands
of Neversink, but was screened from the Northwest by
lofty hills, whose tops were fringed by cedars, and hardy
evergreens. It was the greenest and sunniest spot in the
world, and as you looked around, the eye could not detect an
object to cause an unpleasant sensation. A little grave yard

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lying near, with its white slabs and mossy tomb-stones peering
above the rich verdure, and gleaming among the trees,
rather harmonized with the quiet and peaceful scene, and
gave to it a sentiment of repose, than awakened a sad or
gloomy thought. The blue sea, gleaming beyond rich fields
of ripening grain and luxuriant verdure, was a source of unfailing
freshness and beauty, while the white sails of innumerable
ships, gliding like spirits over the bosom of the vasty
deep, and sailing away into the blue depths of the horizon,
disappearing so gently that you scarce knew when they
were gone, imparted a strange feeling of mystery and romance.
Then at night the bright beacons on the Hook and
upon the brow of the highlands, glimmered and sparkled
cheerfully, and seemed like stars, always rising, and yet fixed
in their spheres. And yet they did not seem like stars;
there was such a look of good-natured humanity about them,
a kind of winking intelligence, which seemed to say, “here
we are, always on hand of a dark night; let the wind howl
ever so loud, or the rain and sleet drive as hard against us
as it can, we never close an eye or turn back from the
storm, but always keep a sharp look out for homeward bound
sailors. We love to wink at them as they draw towards
home and wish they may find their sweet-hearts and wives
as they left them. Never fear us.” One of them was indeed
a regular flasher, and stood higher than the others, and seemed
to lord it over them, sometimes looking dim and sulky,
like a proud beauty, or a great man in a pet, and then again
bursting out with such a rich stream of light that it dazzled
your eyes to behold it.

In addition to these pleasant sights, the landscape was dotted
all over with low-roofed stone farm-houses, that glistened
in the sun shine, they were so white and neat; but being
half hidden in the shade of lilacs and horse-chestnuts,
and old apple trees, they did not glare upon you, like the
house of a rich lawyer who showed the fruits of his four

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years of classical studies by putting up a clap-board copy of
the parthenon on the tip top of a high hill close bye as
though he would challenge the admiration of mankind. He
had emerged from a narrow dirty street in the city, and perching
on the top of a high hill he called retiring from the world.
A huge unseemly thing the building was, the very embodiment
of ostentation, ill taste, and four years of classical studies.
And yet we are in candor compelled to acknowledge that it was
not so strictly classical, but that Ictinus of Athens, the architect
of the original Parthenon, might possibly have discovered
some trifling deviations from his model, if he had inspected
it with an eye to criticism. But it was not too near to be disagreeable,
and, indeed, helped at the distance of John's little
cottage, to variegate the scene, and as you looked around of a
bright day, you saw only a vast picture of green, with
patches of silver, and dusky gold, partially bound by a belt of
azure in the distance. The cottage itself was neither in the
Gothic, Greek, Italian, or Chinese style, but of the Yankesque,
as a friend of the owner's called it; it belonged to the
soil and climate, and seemed to have grown there, like the
sycamores and chestnuts, and broad spreading elms which
stood around it; it had a low sloping roof terminating in a
piazza, and every thing around it seemed rather to have been
suggested by the wants and tastes of its builder, than to have
been formed after the whimsical fancies of some architectural
jack-a-napes living three thousand miles off. It was not in
the smallest degree bookish, nor deformed by any Walter
Scottisms, to make plain honest men feel like cuffing the proprietor's
ears for his affectations. There was nothing about
it for show, but everything for comfort, and in the early part
of June it was almost smothered in roses; they climbed up
against the windows, with their white and damask cheeks, and
breathed into the rooms from their dewy lips the most delicious
perfume. It was the only cottage that we have ever seen that
exactly realized the wish of lady Mary Wortely Montague, being
“in summer shady and in winter warm.” It was a source

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of great delight to John and he loved to anticipate the surprise
and happiness of Fidelia when she should first see it. And
he half wished that he had not embarked in business, that he
might spend his whole time there, for the cares and anxieties
of his present way of life, were beginning to weigh heavily
upon him and oppress him sadly. By insensible degrees he
had been led by his partner to take part in some transactions
that troubled him to think of. He had been visited more constantly
than ever by his father's form, sometimes alone and
sometimes accompanied by his mother and Julia. These appearances
made him sad at times, and cast a shade of gloom
over his thoughts and feelings that he could not always dissipate
by mixing in company, and he thought that he might be
free from them if he were to change his residence. He had
given up all hopes of ever finding his father's will, but the
thought sometimes occurred to him that if he could but communicate
with him by speech, when he appeared to him, he
might be directed to it; but whenever the venerable form of the
old man looked upon him, all mercenary thoughts were chased
from his mind, and he could not have spoken, even though
he had wished to do so. It would have been a great relief
to his feelings if he could have brought himself to make some
friend a sharer of his secret; but he felt a repugnance, which
he could not account for, to divulging a word in regard to his
spiritual visitants. Their mission was to him alone, and he
felt bound to silence. If he could have spoken out, Jeremiah
would have been his confidant. But he could not. He felt
that a spell was upon him.

Jeremiah was not unmindful of a change in the aspect of
his friend, but he attributed it to other causes than the right
one; he knew that John had causes enough for sadness, and,
though he was himself of a hopeful temper, as all good and
sincere people are, he never lacked a reason for a downcast
look, and he did not marvel greatly at the melancholy of
others. But he was full of business at this time, of a strictly
private nature, that left him but little leisure to think of

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anybody's affairs but his own. Miss Hogshart's time was up, and
in a few days she was to return to Berkshire county with her
father, that exemplary friend having come down to yearly
meeting with his eldest son, and Jeremiah had ventured to
talk of marriage. It was a tremendous subject, and when he
spoke to the young lady in rather plain and direct terms, he
thought he had accomplished a great feat; his heart beat terribly
at first, and his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth;
his knees trembled, but fortunately for him, they were sitting
on one of the benches on the Battery, and his trepidation was
not discovered by her. But when he found that she listened
to him, not only without laughing at him, but actually with
fondness and apparent pleasure, and that she seconded all his
propositions with great good nature, and allowed him to put
his arm around her waist without flinching or making any
ado about it, a desperate and tumultous energy suddenly inflamed
him, and before he had time for a second thought, he
clasped his arms around her neck and ravished her lips of at
least a dozen warm delicious kisses, ere she could exclaim,

“What is thee doing, Jeremiah? Thee musn't, thee musn't.”

“But the deed was done; and instead of apologising for
his rudeness, he was half determined to repeat his offence.
In truth we are not certain that he did not before he escorted
her home. A new relationship rom this moment sprung up
between them. He no longer had any doubts of his love for
her, and as she sat in the moonlight with a little bit of her
dove-colored slipper peeping out from beneath her spotted
muslin, he thought her the most bewitching object that the
moon had ever shone upon; he could have fallen at her feet
and kissed them, so full of love was his soul. And she was
to be his forever! Happy, happy, Jeremiah! The world is
not all a fleeting show, after all. They sat a long while on
the Battery benches, watching the moonlight as it flickered
among the trees, and fell in broad sheets of silver upon the
bay, and whispered the most surprising things into each
other's ears, which prompted them ever and anon to a gentle

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pressure of the hand; and then they told such amusing stories,
and laughed at each other's pleasantries as freely and as gaily
as though there was nothing but laughter, and kisses, and
moonlight in the world. But Time travelled on, wholly regardless
of them and all the other innocent hearts that were
unfolding themselves, and revelling in the rays of that bright
moon which was fast sinking behind the blue hills of New
Jersey, and Jeremiah, who would not have been guilty of an
indecorum under the influence of fifty moons, proposed returning
home; and they arrived there in good season, although
Mr. Bates was just in the act of blowing out the hall
lamp as they entered the door. The hall being dark, a playful
little scene, mostly pantomimic, was performed by the two
lovers which ended in Jeremiah's catching Miss Hogshart's
pocket handkerchief and bearing it off in triumph to his room,
where he placed it beneath his pillow and was visited by
pleasant dreams while under its potent influence. There is
great witchery in a pocket handkerchief which has once been
handled by one's mistress, as every body can testify who has
been in love; but whether it be in consequence of the aura
which it imbibes from the lips, or fingers of its wearer, we are
unable to state with precision, having never met with any
new-auric professor willing to hazard an assertion upon the
subject.

Jeremiah arose the next morning a new man, neither better
nor worse, perhaps, than he had been, but still a different being.
He felt himself capable of greater things; a new life
had been infused into his veins; the earth and its inhabitants
had a new look; there was a broad bland smile upon the face
of nature that he had never seen before. He called upon
Huldah's father with a bold assurance that surprised nobody
so much as himself, and demanded of that smooth, yet formidable
personage, his daughter's hand. Considering that Jeremiah
had never worn a drab coat, and that he did not esteem
it essential to salvation to say thou when the rest of the world

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said you, this was no small proof of courage; for friend Hogshart
was not a man to encourage presumption, even when
habited in his farmer's suit of linsey-woolsey, but attired as he
was now, in his yearly meeting coat and breeches, his fine
portly figure set off to the best advantage, and his authoritative,
yet broad and healthful countenance, shadowed by his
immense broad brim beaver, to make such a demand of him
with tolerable composure, required a set of nerves equal to
great undertakings. But Jeremiah approached him with a
stout heart notwithstanding, and we have no doubt felt a glow
of pride in contemplating such a fine looking old fellow as
his future father-in-law.

He looked not much unlike, saving color, the portly bronze
figure of William Penn which delights the eyes and hearts of
the Philadelphians. He condescended in the most gracious
manner to encourage Jeremiah's addresses, but declined giving
a direct assent to his wishes before he had consulted his wife,
“Thee shall have my consent, Jeremiah,” said the worthy
old soul, “provided my wife don't say nay; we must be consistent,
thee knows, in all things, and it is but right to consult
her, because I require her to consult me in all that she undertakes.
But as Huldah seems to have a strange disposition to
follow the ways of the world, I think it will be best for her
to remain a season under discipline in Berkshire; a change
of pasture, thee knows, sometimes has a good effect upon
stock.”

Although Jeremiah was dreadfully shocked by the old gentleman's
figure of speech, and deprecated the idea of their being
any necessity for such a change as it implied, he made no objection
to the proposal. He left his future father-in-law with a light
and happy heart, and feeling as proud as his meek and gentle
spirit would allow him to do. It was a whole week before her
departure, and he was determined, in his own phrase, to redeem
the time, by which he meant, no doubt, taking moonlight
walks upon the Battery; for so pleasantly had the last

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evening's enjoyments impressed themselves upon his memory,
he almost wished that life was but one long moonlight night
and that its chief employment was sitting under the shade of
green trees by the side of Huldah Hogshart. Why should he
not? His hardest duties now appeared but mere pastime to
him, and his deeds of kindness and charity, heretofore his
chief pleasure, were now performed with a new delight;
even Tom Tuck appeared like a gentleman in his eyes, and
F. Augustus almost a man.

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