AMERICA SEVENTY YEARS AGO.
AN IMAGINARY TOUR.
It is 179—, and we have just arrived from England. We may have long had a desire to see foreign countries. We may have incautiously toasted the French Revolution, and pointed out the errors of the British Constitution, at some meeting in celebration of the Burning of the Bastille, under the presidency of Doctors Priestley or Kippis, and have thereby incurred the odium of the powers that be. No,—we are simply inflamed by an insane hope of retrieving our damaged fortunes in the land of liberty on the other side of the Atlantic. Having turned our available property into cash, we invested it in American six per cents. and shares in the National Bank. We were assured that we should net something handsome. Alas! there comes a time when we realise at a loss of fifteen per cent.!
We paid the captain of an American two-master, called at that time a “senam,” or “snow,” no less than thirty guineas, with a promise of further remuneration in case of a long voyage, for our passage. And such a passage! Six weeks of knocking about in a lumber-ship, ill suited for passengers, of whom there were four besides ourselves. Our curmudgeon of a captain proved himself so bad a purveyor that, at the end of the first week, we were reduced to “ship’s allowance,” salt beef, pork, and biscuit.
One morning there is a cry of “A sail astern!” and, sure enough, a vessel under press of canvas is in chase of us. A gun is fired—we take no notice; a second drops a shot close in our wake—we hoist American colours. Our pursuer displays the British ensign, but we have seen through our telescope a greasy cap of liberty at the masthead. Presently the English flag is lowered, and replaced by the French tricolor. She is a French sans-culotte privateer; and, as she comes within hailing distance, we see that the crew are literally sans-culottes! Four of these worthies come off to overhaul us, headed by a squat, tawny, and savage-looking Frenchman, about four feet and a half high. A blue coat, with red facings and enormous “liberty-and-equality” buttons, covers his back. A coarse and dirty red cloth kilt envelopes his aldermanic paunch, descending scarcely to his knees. In his belt are a pair of melo-dramatic-looking pistols, at his waist dangles a gigantic sabre, fit only for a horse trooper, and on his hydrocephalic-looking head is a portentous cocked hat, with a plume of feathers enough for three or four. We would fain laugh, but it is no laughing matter. Everybody’s luggage is ransacked; and in ours is found the counterpart of the lease of our ancestral mansion to a wealthy parvenu (between ourselves, he is quite as good as we are, only he has more of this world’s goods). “In the thirtieth year of the reign of Our Sovereign Lord George the Third,” reads the French captain; “Diable! it is a commission from old George.” We explain to the best of our ability; and after numerous apologies and fraternal hugs, the sans-culottes let us go harmless; nay, they actually man their yards, and give us three cheers!
Adverse winds, heavy seas, Newfoundland fogs, and loss of reckoning, varied by the amusement of forcing our skipper to disgorge five pounds of passage-money to each, have filled up the rest of our time until we tread terra firma once more. Such is the train of events which enables us to say “We have just arrived from England.”
A crowd is gathered on the wharf to see us land. A mingled mass of wealth and poverty. They cry in chorus, “What news from England?” So eagerly curious are they, and so evidently ready to swallow anything, that we cannot resist a mild joke at their expense. “More than fifty thousand men,” say we, “rose in London the morning before we sailed!” Ha! ha! Three cheers! The Republic of Great Britain is inaugurated at last! Any misfortune to Old England was joyfully greeted then, as now, by our loving American cousins. “What then? What did they do then?” is shouted from a score of throats. “That night they went to bed again!” A very mild joke; yet it might have caused us to be roughly handled. Fortunately, if a Yankee is fool enough to let himself be taken in, he will bear it with at least the appearance of good humour; merely making a mental note of the fact for his future guidance, either to play the trick off on somebody else, or to avoid it himself.
Questions assail us on all sides; for unbounded curiosity about other people’s business has ever been a national trait in the American character. We have not been many days in New England,—for it was to Boston that chance and the “snow” took us, and we are now making the best of our way to New York—when we fancy a pretty little cottage which we are told is to let, on the Connecticut river. We knock at the door: it is opened by a woman.
“Pray what is the rent of this house?” we inquire, with our politest manner.
“And where be you from?” is the reply.
“Pray, madam, is this house to be let?”
“Be you from New York or Boston?”
The house is half way between those two towns. We become impatient.
“Will you be kind enough, madam, to say what is the price demanded for this little place?”
Still no answer; only a question: “Pray what may you be?” We turn away in disgust.
The next day is Sunday; and in Connecticut the Sabbath is most rigidly kept. We have unfortunately arrived at a miserable tavern on Saturday evening, and there, until Monday morning, are we obliged to remain. The stage is not allowed to run on the Lord’s day. There is little use in pushing along on horseback, even if the requisite animal could be obtained. You would be stopped as you passed the first meeting-house where service was going on, and, being forcibly dismounted, would be compelled to listen to whatever doctrine might chance to be in process of expounding.
Let us take a walk by the river-side. A concourse of people attracts our attention. We join the crowd, and find that the process of baptism by immersion is going on. It is freezing hard! The ice has been cleared away for some twenty yards in every direction, but a fatigue party of believers has been told off to keep the hallowed water from