LITMIR.BIZ

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Dirck is Dirck, and I am Jason. The shortest way is commonly the best way, and I like given-names among friends. Have I any particular reason?—Yes; plenty on ‘em, and them that’s good. In the first place, no man has a daughter,”—darter à la Jason,—“that he does not begin to think of setting her out in the world, accordin’ to his abilities; then, as I said before, these folks from home” (hum) “are awful rich, and rich husbands are always satisfactory to parents, whatever they may be to children. Besides, some of these officers will fall heirs to titles, and that is a desperate temptation to a woman, all over the world. I hardly think there is a young woman in Danbury that could hold out agin’ a real title.”

      It has always struck me as singular, that the people of Jason’s part of the provinces should entertain so much profound respect for titles. No portion of the world is of simpler habits, nor is it easier to find any civilized people among whom there is greater equality of actual condition, which, one would think, must necessarily induce equality of feeling, than in Connecticut, at this very moment. Notwithstanding these facts, the love of title is so great, that even that of serjeant is often prefixed to the name of a man on his tombstone, or in the announcement of his death or marriage; and as for the militia ensigns and lieutenants, there is no end to them. Deacon is an important title, which is rarely omitted; and wo betide the man who should forget to call a magistrate “esquire.” No such usages prevail among us; or, if they do, it is among that portion of the people of this colony which is derived from New England, and still retains some of its customs. Then, in no part of the colonies is English rank more deferred to, than in New England, generally, notwithstanding most of those colonies possess the right to elect nearly every officer they have among them. I allow that we of New York defer greatly to men of birth and rank from home, and it is right we should so do; but I do not think our deference is as great, or by any means as general, as it is in New England. It is possible the influence of the Dutch may have left an impression on our state of society, though I have been told that the colonies farther south exhibit very much the same characteristics as we do, ourselves, on this head. 16

      We reached Satanstoe a little late, in consequence of the delay at Lilacsbush, and were welcomed with affection and warmth. My excellent mother was delighted to see me at home again, after so long an absence, and one which she did not think altogether without peril, when it was remembered that I had passed a whole fortnight amid the temptations and fascinations of the capital. I saw the tears in her eyes as she kissed me, again and again, and felt the gentle, warm embrace, as she pressed me to her bosom, in maternal thanksgiving.

      Of course, I had to render an account of all I had seen and done, including Pinkster, the theatre, and the lion. I said nothing, however, of the Mordaunts, until questioned about them by my mother, quite a fortnight after Dirck had gone across to Rockland. One morning, as I sat endeavouring to write a sonnet in my own room, that excellent parent entered and took a seat near my table, with the familiarity the relation she bore me justified. She was knitting at the time, for never was she idle, except when asleep. I saw by the placid smile on her face, which, Heaven bless her! was still smooth and handsome, that something was on her mind, that was far from disagreeable; and I waited with some curiosity for the opening. That excellent mother! How completely did she live out of herself in all that had the most remote bearing on my future hopes and happiness!

      “Finish your writing, my son,” commenced my mother, for I had instinctively striven to conceal the sonnet; “finish your writing; until you have done, I will be silent.”

      “I have done, now, mother; ‘twas only a copy of verses I was endeavouring to write out—you know—that is—write out, you know.”

      “I did not know you were a poet, Corny,” returned my mother, smiling still more complacently, for it is something to be the parent of a poet.

      “I!—I a poet, mother?—I’d sooner turn school-master, than turn poet. Yes, I’d sooner be Jason Newcome, himself, than even suspect it possible I could be a poet.”

      “Well, never mind; people never turn poets, I fancy, with their eyes open. But, what is this I hear of your having saved a beautiful young lady from the jaws of a lion, while you were in town; and why was I left to learn all the particulars from Mr. Newcome?”

      I believe my face was of the colour of scarlet, for it felt as if it were on fire, and my mother smiled still more decidedly than ever. Speak! I could not have spoken to be thus smiled on by Anneke.

      “There is nothing to be ashamed of, Corny, in rescuing a young lady from a lion, or in going to her father’s to receive the thanks of the family. The Mordaunts are a family any one can visit with pleasure. Was the battle between you and the beast, a very desperate conflict, my child?”

      “Poh! mother:—Jason is a regular dealer in marvels, and he makes mountains of mole-hills. In the first place, for ‘jaws,’ you must substitute ‘paws,’ and for a ‘young lady,’ ‘her shawl.’”

      “Yes, I understand it was the shawl, but it was on her shoulders, and could not have been disengaged time enough to save her, had you not shown so much presence of mind and courage. As for the ‘jaws,’ I believe that was my mistake, for Mr. Newcome certainly said ‘claws.’”

      “Well, mother, have it your own way. I was of a little service to a very charming young woman, and she and her father were civil to me, as a matter of course. Herman Mordaunt is a name we all know, and, as you say, his is a family that any man may be proud of visiting, ay, and pleased too.”

      “How odd it is, Corny,” added my mother, in a sort of musing, soliloquizing way,—“you are an only child, and Anneke Mordaunt is also an only child, as Dirck Follock has often told me.”

      “Then Dirck has spoken to you frequently of Anneke, before this, mother?”

      “Time and again; they are relations, you must have heard; as, indeed, you are yourself, if you did but know it.”

      “I?—I related to Anneke Mordaunt, without being too near?”

      My dear mother smiled again, while I felt sadly ashamed of myself at the next instant. I believe that a suspicion of the truth, as respects my infant passion, existed in that dear parent’s mind from that moment.

      “Certainly related, Corny, and I will tell you how. My great-great-grandmother, Alida van der Heyden, was a first cousin of Herman Mordaunt’s great-great-grandmother, by his mother’s side, who was a Van Kleeck. So, you see, you and Anneke are actually related.”

      “Just near enough, mother, to put one at ease in their house, and not so near as to make relationship troublesome.”

      “They tell me, my child, that Anneke is a sweet creature!”

      “If beauty, and modesty, and grace, and gentleness, and spirit, and sense, and delicacy, and virtue, and piety, can make any young woman of seventeen a sweet creature, mother, then Anneke is sweet.”

      My dear mother seemed surprised at my warmth, but she smiled still more complacently than ever. Instead of pursuing the subject, however, she saw fit to change it, by speaking of the prospects of the season, and the many reasons we all had for thankfulness to God. I presume, with a woman’s instinct, she had learned enough to satisfy her mind for the present.

      The summer soon succeeded to the May that proved so momentous to me; and I sought occupation in the fields. Occupation, however, would not do. Anneke was with me, go where I would; and glad was I when Dirck, about midsummer, in one of his periodical visits to Satanstoe, proposed that we should ride over, and make another visit to Lilacsbush. He had written a note, to say we should be glad to ask a dinner and beds, if it were convenient, for a day a short distance ahead; and he waited the answer at the Neck. This answer arrived duly by mail, and was everything we could wish. Herman Mordaunt offered us a hearty welcome, and sent the grateful intelligence that his daughter and Mary Wallace would both be present to receive us. I envied Dirck the manly feeling which had induced him to take this plain and respectable course to his object.

      We went across the country, accordingly, and reached Lilacsbush several hours before dinner. Anneke

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