Elinor Wyllys, Volume 2

Fenimore Cooper Susan

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pubOne.info present you this new edition. "But there is matter for another rhyme;

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• Publié par: Pub One Info
• Date de parution: 06 novembre 2010
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9782819935780
• Langue: English

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CHAPTER I {would be CHAPTER XXIV, if numberedfrom beginning of Vol. I}
"But there is matter for another rhyme;
And I to this would add another tale. "
WORDSWORTH.
"And how do Miss and Madam do;
The little boy, and all?
All tight and well? and how do you,
Good Mr. What-do-you-call? "
COWPER.
{William Wordsworth (English poet, 1770-1850),“Poems of the Imagination: Hart-Leap Well” lines 95-96. WilliamCowper (English poet, 1731-1800), “The Yearly Distress, or, TithingTime at Stock in Essex” lines 33-36}
It is to be feared the reader will find fault withthis chapter. But there is no remedy; he must submit quietly to abreak of three years in the narrative: having to choose between theunities and the probabilities, we greatly preferred holding to thelast. The fault, indeed, of this hiatus, rests entirely with theyoung folk of Longbridge, whose fortunes we have undertaken tofollow; had they remained together, we should, of course, have beenfaithful to our duty as a chronicler; but our task was not so easy.In the present state of the world, people will move about—especially American people; and making no claim to ubiquity, wewere obliged to wait patiently until time brought the wanderersback again, to the neighbourhood where we first made theiracquaintance. Shortly after Jane's marriage, the whole party brokeup; Jane and her husband went to New-Orleans, where Tallman Taylorwas established as partner in a commercial house connected with hisfather. Hazlehurst passed several years in Mexico andSouth-America: an old friend of his father's, a distinguishedpolitical man, received the appointment of Envoy to Mexico, andoffered Harry the post of Secretary of Legation. Hazlehurst hadlong felt a strong desire to see the southern countries of thecontinent, and was very glad of so pleasant an arrangement; he lefthis friend Ellsworth to practise law alone, and accompanied Mr.Henley, the Minister, to Mexico; and from thence removed, after atime, to Brazil. Charlie had been studying his profession in Franceand Italy, during the same period. Even Elinor was absent from homemuch more than usual; Miss Wyllys had been out of health for thelast year or two; and, on her account, they passed their summers intravelling, and a winter in the West-Indies. At length, however,the party met again on the old ground; and we shall take up thethread of our narrative, during the summer in which the circle wasre-united. It is to be hoped that this break in the movement of ourtale will be forgiven, when we declare, that the plot is about tothicken; perplexities, troubles, and misfortunes are gatheringabout our Longbridge friends; a piece of intelligence which willprobably cheer the reader's spirits. We have it on the authority ofa philosopher, that there is something gratifying to human naturein the calamities of our friends; an axiom which seems true, atleast, of all acquaintances made on paper.
“{Minister” = a diplomatic rank below that ofAmbassador— a Minister heads a Legation, an Ambassador an Embassy;prior to the Civil War, the United States was not considered animportant enough country to send or receive Ambassadors. “Secretaryof Legation” = a diplomat serving under a Minister. “A philosopher”= Francois, Duc de la Rochefoucauld (1618-1680), French authorfamous for his maxims or epigraphs: “Dans l'adversite de nosmeilleurs amis, nous trouvons quelque chose qui ne nous deplaitpas” = In the misfortune of our best friends, we find somethingwhich is not displeasing to us. Maxim No. 99, later suppressed. Bythe 1840s, a well known expression}
We hear daily that life is short; and, surely, Timeflies with fearful rapidity if we measure his course by years:three-score-and-ten, the allotted span of man, are soon numbered.But events, thoughts, feelings, hopes, cares, are better marks forthe dial of life, than hours and minutes. In this view, the path oflife is a long road, full of meaning and of movement at every step;and in this sense only is time justly appreciated; each day losesits insignificance, and every yearly revolution of the earthbecomes a point in eternity.
The occurrences of the three years during which wehave lost sight of the Longbridge circle will speak for themselves,as our tale is gradually unfolded. It is evident, however, at thefirst glance, on returning to the old ground, that the villageitself has undergone some alterations. Though belonging to a partof the country occasionally accused of being “unenterprising, ” ithad not proved insensible to the general movement felt throughoutthe republic, in those halcyon days of brilliant speculation, whichcommenced with the promise of good fortune to all, and ended bybringing poverty to many, and disgrace to others. A rail-road nowruns through the principal street, and the new depot, a large,uncouth building, stands conspicuous at its termination, lookingcommercial prosperity, and internal improvement. Several new storeshave been opened, half-a-dozen “tasty mansions”— chiefly imitationsof Mr. Hubbard's— have been built, another large tavern has beencommenced, and two additional steamboats may be seen lying at thewharf. The value of property in the village itself, is said to havedoubled, at least; new streets are laid out, and branch rail-roadsare talked of; and many people flatter themselves that Longbridgewill figure in the next census as a flourishing city, with the fullhonours of a Corporation, Mayor, and Aldermen. In the population,corresponding changes are also perceptible; many new faces are seenin the streets, new names are observed on the signs; others againare missed from their old haunts, for there is scarcely a family inthe place, which has not sent its representation westward.
{“those halcyon days” = i. e. , before the economicPanic of 1837, and the seven-year depression that followed}
Most of our old acquaintances, however, still remainon the spot, this pleasant afternoon in June, 183-. There standsMr. Joseph Hubbard, talking to Judge Bernard. That is Dr. VanHorne, driving off in his professional sulkey. There are Mrs. Tibbsand Mrs. Bibbs, side-by-side, as of old. Mrs. George Wyllys hasmoved, it seems; her children are evidently at home in a door-yardon the opposite side of the street, adjoining the Hubbard “Park. ”On the door of that bright-coloured, spruce-looking brick house,you will see the name of W. C. Clapp; and there are a pair of bootsresting on the window-sill of an adjoining office, which probablybelong to the person of the lawyer, himself. Now, we may observeMrs. Hilson and Miss Emmeline Hubbard flitting across the street,“fascinating and aristocratic” as ever.
{“sulkey” = light two-wheeled carriage, seated forone person; usually spelled “sulky”}
Let us leave the village, however, for the moreimmediate neighbourhood of Wyllys-Roof; in which, it is hoped, thereader will feel more particularly interested. There stands thelittle cottage of the Hubbards, looking just as it did three yearssince; it is possible that one or two of the bull's-eye panes ofglass may have been broken, and changed, and the grey shingles area little more moss-grown; but its general aspect is precisely whatit was when we were last there. The snow-ball and the sweet-briarare in their old places, each side of the humble porch; the whiteblossoms have fallen from the scraggy branches of the snow-ball,this first week in June; the fresh pink buds are opening on thefragrant young shoots of the sweet-briar. There is our friend, MissPatsey, wearing a sun-bonnet, at work in the garden; and if youlook through the open door of the house, you will see beyond thepassage into the neat little kitchen, where we catch a glimpse ofMrs. Hubbard's white cap over the back of her rocking-chair. It ispossible that you may also see the merry, shining, black face of alittle handmaiden, whom Miss Patsey has lately taken into thefamily; and, as the tea-kettle is boiling, and the day's workchiefly over, the little thing is often seen at this hour, playingabout the corners of the house, with the old cat. Ah, there is thelittle minx! — her sharp ears have heard the sound of wheels, andshe is already at the open gate, to see what passes. A wagon stops;whom have we here? Little Judy is frightened half out of her wits:a young man she does not know, with his face covered with beard,after a fashion she had never yet seen, springs from the wagon.Miss Patsey turns to look.
“Charlie! ”— she exclaims; and in another moment theyouth has received the joyful, tearful, agitated embrace of hismother and sister. The darling of their hearts is at home again;three years since, he left them, a boy, to meet dangers exaggeratedtenfold by their anxious hearts; he returns, a man, who has facedtemptations undreamed of by their simple minds. The wanderer isonce more beneath their humble roof; their partial eyes rest againon that young face, changed, yet still the same.
Charlie finds the three last years have passedlightly over his mother and his sister; theirs are the same kindlyfaces, the same well-known voices, the best loved, the most trustedfrom childhood. After the first eager moments of greeting are over,and the first hurried questions have been answered, he looks abouthim. Has not the dear old cottage shrunk to a very nut-shell? Heopens the door of the school-room; there are its two benches, andits humble official desk, as of old; he looks into the littleparlour, and smiles to think of the respect he felt in his childishdays for Miss Patsey's drawing-room: many a gilded gallery, many abrilliant saloon has he since entered as a sight-seer, with a morecareless step. He goes out on the porch; is it possible that is thegarden? — why it is no larger than a table-cloth! — he should havethought the beds he had so often weeded could not be so small: andthe door-yard, one can shake hands across it! And there isWyllys-Roof, half hid by trees— he used to admire it as a mostvenerable pile; in reality it is only a plain, respe