And strengthened the old man's good opinion of me. as for the daughter, let me possess her wealth, I care not who takes her. (He sees Jedediah.) Oh, one of Tompkins' people, I suppose. I'll astonish him. (Jedediah pretends to be studying.) Here, fellow. Who are you? (Eyeing him with a glass.) JEDEDIAH. I? You mean I? (Wilkins assents.) I's a personal pronoun. WILKINS. I dare say. Who are you, here? JEDEDIAH. Why, how de du, you? I see you get out of the coach at the tavern yonder, didn't I?-guess I did. WILKINS. An inquisitive Yankee bore. I must look out for him. (Aside.) I did get out of the coach, and I am expected here, am I not? JEDEDIAH. I s'pose you be, if you say so. All them trunks yourn? What you got in 'em all, you? Maybe that's a secret. WILKINS. Maybe it is. Show me to your master. JEDEDIAH. Master! I a'nt got no master. All full, eh? I wouldn't allow the face of clay to call me on that ground. If you mean the squire, I'm his hired man ;. but I don't know where he is; s'pose I could find him. But I an't like some folks, knows everything, as Aunt Peg used to say about Uncle Zack's cow. "There, says she, “that eternal dumb critter knows just as well when Uncle Zack's taken his four o'clock, as can be, and the critter comes right cross lots home to milkin'." Aunt Peg is as smart a woman as any in the town of Chelsea, for her heft. She a'nt much bigger than a pint of beans; but she'd lift a barrel of cider right out of the tail end of a cart, and make nothin' on it. Uncle Jonah says she'd drink a barrel empty in a leetle time, tu.' WILKINS. (Who has been laughing.) Yes; will you show me the way to Mr. Tompkins. JEDEDIAH. Yes, captin. I don't like the hang of this chap's countenance. I'll twig him. (Tompkins without calls Jedediah.) There, that's the squire's voice. (Tompkins enters.) WILKINS. Oh, my dear friend, I'm glad to see you. How is my charming Ellen? TOMPKINS. Oh, your lordship, I'm proud to take you by the hand. JEDEDIAH. Lordship!-hé a lordship? I'm glad to see you, tuCome from France, I suppose. Come a courtin' squire's gall, eh? I asked him who he was, Squire, but the cunning critter wouldn't tell me; don't blame him for it for keepin' his mouth shut up on that. I a'n't forgot how I used to go sneaking round old Aunt Sally's house arter her darter Moll. I never told you about Aunt Sally, squire. TOMPKINS. Stop, Jedediah. A young man I've just hired, your lordship. Will you walk in? Go before, Jedediahgo in. JEDEDIAH. Well, I s'pose I might as well. Say, Mr. Lordship, if you want any chors done, or little notion, I'm slick to dew it. WILKINS. Keep your distance, Bumpkin. JEDEDIAH. My distance; yes, I will. You a lord!-you get out -a lord! Say, squire, you don't want me for nothin', do you you don't, du you-you du, don't you? I should like to tell you 'bout that ere cat of ourn. (Takes out his grammar and reads:) "Neuter gender, objective case." Guess I'll try the notions of that lord. Cowcumbers and blue beans, if he arn't a sneaky cuss. I've no notion of grammar, a country schoolma’arm would see clean through him-yes. (As he goes into the house he threatens Wilkins in show.) LECTURE ON NEW ENGLAND. WHO can read the simple history of the Republic of North America, without emotions of the most pious reverence and deep affection? With the improvements in modern navigation, it is now an every-day affair to see vessels that have traversed the widest seas; but think of things as they were then, the vague ideas of this "wilderness world," its savage inhabitants, and its beasts of prey, that were the horrors of the nursery, as are those now of Africa and Australasia, and you can form some concep tion of the feelings of fathers and their families, on exiling themselves from home, and all that was dear on earth, save their sacred faith; that, like St. John in the Isle of Patmos, they might find some ritual in a distant wild. Our forefathers came to these shores under convoy of no naval armament; they brought no trophies of glory they were not attended with the pomp and pageantry of the military adventurer, but with the "simple scrip and staff of the pilgrim;" unlike the founders of ancient Rome, they were not a set of outlaws and fugitive felons, but a company of Christian brethren, with their wives and children, led on by no grovelling cupidity or worldly ambition, but by unfaltering devotion and faith. With such an ancestry and history, with institutions calculated to develop the highest dignity of character, with a country possessing every thing in the physical and moral world, to enlarge the mind, what will be the ultimate bound of our attainments as a people? A few days since, as I stood upon the top of yonder capital, the crown of this goodly city, gazing upon the picturesque panorama of which it is the centre, its hive of human habitations, its spires, its streets teeming with a countless and stirring multitude, its hum of business, its wharves and shipping, its green common and drooping elms, the only remnants of verdure's former realm, its bay gemmed with islands and whitened with` sails, expanding into the ocean; and when I turned to the numerous villages, in every direction, clustering around their churches, like flocks around their shepherds; the different rail-roads with their trains, like some fabled monsters, exhaling smoke and fire, and apparently perforating hills, and flying over valleys, the naval citadel bearing that flag which, though unfurled but a few years ago, is now respected in every sea,-I was lost in rapture, as my mind pictured the probable scene but two centuries ago. On the height where this building is based, has the Indian hunter paused awhile, to contemplate this picture of nature; and could he have expressed himself in the language of the poet, he would have exclaimed, "I am monarch of all I survey !" Where stands this proud and noble city, was then an unbroken forest, with here and there a thin wreath of smoke, betraying the nestling wigwam; the partridge led the young, where now the Christian mother watches the gambols of her children--the beautiful fawn sported where the artless girl winds her way to school, and the cooing pair built their little home in the branches beneath which bashful love now woos and wins the fair and pure. Where the thrush made the common "air most musical," now swells the pealing anthem of the choir and the organ; the church-bell tolls the knell of every parting hour where the screams of the panther, and the howl of the wolf, once alarmed the ear of night; where the eloquence of Webster, Everett, Choate, and Bancroft, are like household tones, was then heard the harangue of some aboriginal orator; the bay which now bears the steamer and the ship, was then unrippled save by the light canoe and the "black duck with her glossy breast swinging silently" on the glassy heaving surge. Alas, for the poor red man! with his He has gone |