You will find him of great service to you while you remain with the army, I make no doubt. Pork, they tell me, if of the quality of that you will have, ought to bring three half joes, the barrel—and you might ask that much. Should accident procure you an invitation to the table of the Commander-In-Chief, as may happen through Col. Merrewether’s friendship I trust you will do full credit to the loyalty of the Littlepages Ah! there’s the flour, too; it ought to be worth two half joes the barrel, in times like these. I have thrown in a letter or two to some of the Schuylers, with whom I served when of your age. They are first-rate people, remember, and rank among the highest families of the colonies; full of good old Van Cortlandt blood, and well crossed with the Rensselaers. Should any of them ask you about the barrel of tongues, that you will find marked T—”
“Any of whom, sir; the Schuylers, the Cortlandts, or the Rensselaers?”
“Poh! any of the sutlers, or contractors, I mean, of course. You can tell them that they were cured at home, and that you dare recommend them as fit for the Commander-In-Chief’s own table.”
Such was the character of my father’s parting instructions. My mother held a different discourse.
“Corny, my beloved child,” she said; “this will be an all-important journey to you. Not only are you going far from home, but you are going to a part of the country where much will be to be seen. I hope you will remember what was promised for you, by your sponsors in baptism, and also what is owing to your own good name, and that of your family. The letters you take with you, will probably introduce you to good company, and that is a great beginning to a youth. I wish you to cultivate the society of reputable females, Corny. My sex has great influence on the conduct of yours, at your time of life, and both your manners and principles will be aided by being as much with women of character as possible.”
“But, mother, if we are to go any distance with the army, as both my father and Col. Follock wish, it will not be in our power to be much in ladies’ society.”
“I speak of the time you will pass in and near Albany. I do not expect you will find accomplished women at Mooseridge, nor, should you really go any distance with the troops, though I see no occasion for your going with them a single foot, since you are not a soldier, do I suppose you will find many reputable women in the camp; but, avail yourself of every favourable opportunity to go into good company. I have procured a letter for you, from a lady of one of the great families of this county, to Madam Schuyler, who is above all other women, they tell me, in and around Albany. Her you must see, and I charge you, on your duty, to deliver this letter. It is possible, too, that Herman Mordaunt——”
“What of Herman Mordaunt and Anneke, mother?”
“I spoke only of Herman Mordaunt himself, and did not mention Anneke, boy,” answered my mother, smiling “though I doubt not that the daughter is with the father. They left town for Albany, two months since, my sister Legge writes me, and intend to pass the summer north. I will not deceive you, Corny, so you shall hear all that your aunt has written on the subject. In the first place, she says Herman Mordaunt has gone on public service, having an especial appointment for some particular duty of importance, that is private, but which it is known will detain him near Albany, and among the northern posts, until the close of the season, though he gives out to the world, he is absent on account of some land he has in Albany county. His daughter and Mary Wallace are with him, with several servants, and they have taken up with them a sleigh-load of conveniences; that looks like remaining. Now, you ought to hear the rest, my child, though I feel no apprehension when such a youth as yourself is put in competition with any other man in the colony. Yes, though your own mother, I think I may say that!”
“What is it, mother?—never mind me; I shall do well enough, depend on it—that is—but what is it, dear mother?”
“Why, your aunt says, it is whispered among a few in town, a very few only, but whispered, that Herman Mordaunt got the appointment named, merely that he might have a pretence for taking Anneke near the ——th, in which regiment it seems there is a baronet’s son, who is a sort of relative of his, and whom he wishes to marry to Anneke.”
“I am sorry, then, that my aunt Legge listens to any such unworthy gossip!” I indignantly cried. “My life on it, Anneke Mordaunt never contemplated so indelicate a thing!”
“No one supposes Anneke does, or did. But fathers are not daughters, Corny; no, nor mothers neither, as I can freely say, seeing you are my only child. Herman Mordaunt may imagine all this in his heart, and Anneke be every thing that is innocent and delicate.”
“And how can my aunt Legge’s informants know what is in Herman Mordaunt’s heart?”
“How?—I suppose they judge by what they find in their own, my son; a common means of coming at a neighbour’s failings, though I believe virtues are rarely detected by the same process.”
“Ay, and judge of others by themselves. The means may be common, mother, but they are not infallible.”
“Certainly not, Corny, and that will be a ground of hope to you. Remember, my child, you can bring me no daughter I shall love half as well as I feel I can love Anneke Mordaunt. We are related too, her father’s great-great-grandmother——”
“Never mind the great-great-grandmother, my dear, good, excellent, parent. After this I shall not attempt to have any secret from you. Unless Anneke Mordaunt consent to be your daughter, you will never have one.”
“Do not say that, Corny, I beseech you,” cried my mother, a good deal frightened. “Remember there is no accounting for tastes; the army is a formidable rival, and, after all, this Mr. Bulstrode, I think you call him, may prove as acceptable to Anneke as to her father. Do not say so cruel a thing, I entreat of you, dearest, dearest, Corny.”
“It is not a minute, mother, since you said how little you apprehended for me, when opposed by any other man in the province!”
“Yes, child, but that is a very different thing from seeing you pass all your days as a heartless, comfortless old bachelor. There are fifty young women in this very county, I could wish to see you united to, in preference to witnessing such a calamity.”
“Well, mother, we will say no more about it. But is it true that Mr. Worden actually intends to be of our party?”
“Both Mr. Worden and Mr. Newcome, I believe. We shall scarcely know how to spare the first, but he conceives he has a call to accompany the army, in which there are so few chaplains; and souls are called to their last dread account so suddenly in war, that one does not know how to refuse to let him go.”
My poor, confiding mother! When I look back at the past, and remember the manner in which the Rev. Mr. Worden discharged the duties of his sacred office during the campaign that succeeded, I cannot but smile at the manner in which confidence manifests itself in woman. The sex has a natural disposition to place their trusts in priests, by a very simple process of transferring their own dispositions to the bosoms of those they believe set apart for purely holy objects. Well, we live and learn. I dare say that many are what they profess to be, but I have lived long enough now to know all are not. As for Mr. Worden, he had one good point about him, at any rate. His friends and his enemies saw the worst of him. He was no hypocrite, but his associates saw the man very much as he was. Still, I am far from wishing to hold up this imported minister as a model of Christian graces for my descendants to admire. No one can be more convinced than myself how much sectarians are prone to substitute their own narrow notions of right and wrong for the Law of God, confounding acts that are perfectly innocent in themselves with sin; but, at the same time, I am quite aware too, that appearances are ever to be
