SACREDTo the Memory of inestimable departedWorth;To unrivalled Excellence and Virtue.MissMelissaD——,Whose remains are deposited here, andwhose ethereal part became a seraph,October26, 1776,In the 18th year of her age.Alonzo bent,hekneeled, he prostrated himself, he clasped the green turf which enclosed her grave, he watered it with his tears, he warmed it with his sighs. “Where art thou, bright beam of heavenly light! he said. Come to my troubled soul, blessed spirit! Come, holy shade! come in all thy native loveliness, and cheer the bosomof wretchedness, by thy grief dispersing smile! On the ray of yon evening star descend. One moment leave the celestial regions of glory—leave, one moment, thy sister beatitudes, and glide, in entrancing beauty, before me: wave, benignly wave thy white hand, and assuage the anguish of despairing sorrow! Alas! in vain my invocation! A curtain, impenetrable, is drawn betwixt me and thee, only to be disclosed by the dissolution of nature.”He arose and walked away: suddenly he stopped. “Yet, said he, if spirits departed lose not the power of recollection;—if they have knowledge of present events on earth, Melissa cannot have forgotten me—she must pity me.” He returned to the grave; he took her miniature from his bosom; he held it up, and earnestly viewed it by the moon’s pale ray.“Ah, Franklin! he exclaimed, how tenderlypensivedoes she beam her lovely eye upon me! How often have I drank delicious extacy from the delicacy of those unrivalled charms! How often have they taught me to anticipate superlative and uninterrupted bliss! Mistaken and delusive hope! [returning the miniature to his bosom.] Vain andpresumptuousassurance.Then[pointing to the grave] there behold how my dearest wishes, my fondest expectations arerealized!——Hallowed turf! lie lightly on her bosom!—Sacred willows! sprinkle the dews gently over her grave, while the mourning breezes sigh sadly amid your branches! Here may the “widowed wild rose love to bloom!” Here may the first placid beams of morning delight to linger; from hence, the evening ray reluctantly withdraw!—And when the final trump shall renovate and arouse the sleeping saint;—when on “buoyant step” she soars to glory, may our meeting spirits join in beatifick transport! May my enraptured ear catch the first holywhisperof her consecrated lips.”Alonzo having thus poured out the effusions of an overcharged heart, pensively returned to the inn, which he entered and seated himself in the common room, in deep contemplation. As usual at public inns, a number of people were in the room, among whom were several officers of the American army. Alonzo was too deeply absorbed in melancholy reflection, to notice passing incidents, until a young officer came, seated himself by him, and entered intoaconversation respecting the events of the war. He appeared to be about Alonzo’s age; his person was interesting, his manners sprightly, his observations correct.—Alonzo was, in some degree, aroused from his abstractedness;—the manners of thestranger pleased him. His frankness, his ease, his understanding, his urbanity, void of vanity or sophistication, sympathetically caught the feelings of Alonzo, and he even felt a sort of solemn regret when the stranger departed. He soon retired to bed, determining to proceedonearlyin themorning.He arose about daylight; the horizon was overcast, and it had begun to rain, which before sunrisehadencreased to a violent storm. He found therefore that he must content himself to stay until it was over, which did not happen till near night, and too late to pursue his journey. He was informed by the inn-keeper, that the theatre, which had been closed since the commencement of the war, was to be openedforthat night only, with the tragedy ofGustavus, and close with a representation of Burgoyne’s capture, and some other recent events of the American war. To “wing the hours with swifter speed,” Alonzo determined to go to the theatre, and at the hour appointed he repaired thither.As he was proceeding to take his seat, he passedthebox where sat the young officer, whose manners had so prepossessed him the preceding evening at the inn. He immediately arose: they exchanged salutations, and Alonzo walked on and took his seat. The evening was warm, and thehouse exceedingly crowded. After the tragedy was through, and before the after-piece commenced, the young officer came to Alonzo’s box, and made some remarks on the merit of the actors. While they were discoursing, a bustle took place in one part of the house, and several people gathered around a box, at a little distance from them. The officer turned, left Alonzo, and hastened to the place. To the general enquiryof, “what’s the matter?” it was answered, that “a lady had fainted.” She was led out, and the tumult subsided.As soon as the after-piece was closed, Alonzo returned to the inn. As he passed along he cast his eyes toward the church-yard, wherelaythe “wither’d blessings of his richest joys.” Affection, passion, inclination, urged him to go and breathe a farewell sigh, to drop a final tear over the grave of Melissa. Discretion, reason, wisdom forbade it—forbade that heshouldre-pierce the ten thousand wounds of his bosom, by the acute revival of unavailing sorrows. He hurried to his chamber.As he prepared to retire to rest, he saw a book lying on the table near his bed. On taking it up he found it to beYoung’s Night Thoughts, a book which, in happier days, had been the solace of many a gloomy, many a lucid hour. He took it up and thefirst lines he cast his eyes upon were the following:“Song, beauty,youth,love, virtue, joy: this groupOf bright ideas—flowers of Paradise,As yetunforfeit! in one blaze we bind.Kneel, and present it to the skies; as allWe guess of Heaven! Andthesewere all her ownAnd she was mine, and I was—was most blest—Like blossom’d trees o’erturn’d by vernal storm,Lovely in death the beauteous ruin lay—Ye that e’er lost an angel, pity me.”His tears fell fast upon the book! He replaced it and flung himself into bed. Sleep was far from him; he closed not his eyes till the portals of light were unbarred in the east, when he fell into interrupted slumbers.When he awoke, the morning was considerably advanced. He arose. One consolation was yet left—to see his parents happy. He went down to order his carriage; his favourite stranger, the young officer, was in waiting, and requested a private interview. They immediately retired to a separate room,whenthe stranger thus addressed Alonzo:“From our short acquaintance, you may, sir, consider it singular that I should attempt to scrutinize your private concerns,andmore extraordinaryyou mayesteem it, when I inform you of my reasons for so doing. Judging, however, from appearances, I have no doubt of your candour. If myquestions should be deemed improper, you will tell me so.”Alonzo assured himthathe would treat him candidly. “This I believe, said the young officer; I take the liberty therefore to ask if you are an American?”——“I am,” answered Alonzo. “I presume, said the stranger—the question is a delicate one—I presume your family is respectable?” “Sacredly so,” replied Alonzo. “Are youmarried, sir?” “I amnot, and have ever been single.” “Have you any prospects of connecting in marriage?” “I have not, sir.” “I may then safely proceed, said the stranger; I trust you will hear me attentively; you will judge maturely; you will decide correctly,andI am confident that you will answer me sincerely.“A young lady of this city, with whom I am well acquainted, and to whom, indeed, I am distantly related, whose father is affluent, whose connections are eminently respectable, whose manners are engaging, whose mind is virtue, whose elegance of form and personal beauty defy competition, is the cause, sir, of this mission.—Early introduced into the higher walks of life, she has passed the rounds of fashionable company; numberless suitorshavesighed for her hand, whom she complaisantly dismissed without disobliging, as her heart had not yet beentouched by the tender passion of love. Surprising as it may, however, seem, it is now about six months since she saw in her dream the youth who possessed the power to inspire her with this passion. In her dream she saw a young gentleman whose interesting manners and appearance, impressed her so deeply that she found she must be unhappy without him. She thought it was in a mixed company she saw him, but that she could not get an opportunity to speak to him. It seemed that if she could but speaktohim, all difficulties would at once be removed. At length he approached her, and just as he was about to address her, she awoke.“This extraordinary dream shehadcommunicated to several of her acquaintance.—Confident that she should some time or other behold the real person whose semblance she had seen in her dream, she has never since been perfectly at ease in her mind. Her father, who has but two children, one beside herself, beingdotinglyfond of her, has promised that if ever she meets this unknown stranger, he will not oppose their union, provided he is respectable, and that, if worthy of her hand, he will make him independent.“Onmy return from the inn the evening I first saw you, I told my sister—I beg pardon, sir—I was wandering from my subject—afterI first met you at the inn, I fell in company with the lady, and in arallyingway told herthatI had seen herinvisible beau, as we used to call the gentleman of the dream. I superficially described your person, and descanted a little on the embellishments of your mind. She listened with some curiosity and attention; but I had so often jested with her in this manner, that she thoughtbutlittle of it. At the play last night, I had just been speaking to her when I came to your box: her eyes followed me, but no sooner had they rested on you, than she fainted! This was the cause of my leaving you so abruptly, andof mynot returning. We conveyed her home, when she informed me that you was the person she had seen in her dream!“To me only, she preferred disclosing the circumstance at present, for reasons which must be obvious to your understanding.—Even her father and mother are not informed of it, and should my mission prove unsuccessful, none except you, sir, she and myself, I hope and trust, will ever know any thing of the matter.“Now, sir, it is necessaryfor mefarther to explain. As singular as the circumstances which I have related may appear to you, to me they must appear as strange.—One valuable purpose is, however, answeredthereby; it will exclude the imputation of capriciousness——the freakish whim oflove at first sight, which exists only in novels and romances. You, sir, are young, unmarried, unaffianced, your affections free: such is the condition of the lady. She enquires not into the state of your property! she asks not riches:—If she obtains the object of her choice, on him, as I have told you, will her father bestow affluence.——Whatever, sir, may be your pretensions to eminence, and they may be many, the lady is not your inferior. Her education also is such as would do honour to a gentleman of taste.“I will not extend my remarks; you perfectly understand me—what answer shall I return?”Alonzo sighed: for a few moments he was silent.“Perhaps, said the stranger, you may consider themodeof this message as bearing the appearance of indecorum. If so, I presume, on reviewing the incidents whichledto—whichenforced it, as the most safe, theonlymeans of sure communication, you will change your opinion. Probably you would not wish finally to decide until you have visited the lady. This was my expectation, and I am, therefore, ready to introduce you to her presence.”“No, sir, said Alonzo, so far from considering the message indecorous, I esteem it a peculiar honour, both as respects the lady and yourself. Nor is it necessary that I should visit the lady, to confirm the truth of what you have related. You will not, sir, receive it as an adulatory compliment, when I say, that although our acquaintance is short, yet my confidence in your integrity is such as to require no corroborating facts to establish your declaration. But, sir, there are obstacles, insuperable obstacles, to the execution of the measures you would propose.“Your frankness to me, demands, on my part, equal candour. I assured you that I was unmarried, and had no prospect of entering into matrimonial engagements; this is indeed the fact: but it is also true that my affections—my first, my earliest affections were engaged, unalienably engaged, to an object which is now no more. Perhaps you may esteem it singular;perhapsyou will consider it enthusiasm; but, sir, it is impossible that my heart should admit a second and similar impression.”The stranger paused. “Recent disappointments of this nature, he replied, commonly leave the mind under such gloomy influences. Time, however, the soother of severest woes, will, though slowly, yetsurely,disperse the clouds of anguish, and the rays of comfort and consolation will beam upon the soul. I wish not to be considered importunate, but the day may arrive when you may change your present determination, and then will you not regret that you refused so advantageous an overture?”“That day will never arrive, sir answered Alonzo: I have had time for deliberate reflection since the melancholy event took place. I have experienced a sufficient change of objects andofcountry; the effect is the same. The wound is still recent, and so it will ever remain: indeed I cannot wish it otherwise. There is a rich and sacred solemnity in my sorrows, sir, which I would not exchange for the most splendid acquirements of wealth, or the most dignified titles of fame.”The young officer sat for some time silent. “Well, sir, he said, since it is thus, seeing that these things are so, I will urge you no farther. You will pardon me respecting the part I have taken in this business, since it was with the purest designs. May consolation, comfort, and happiness, yet be yours.”“To you and your fair friend, said Alonzo, I consider myself under the highest obligations. The gratitude I feel I can butfeebly express. Believe me, sir, when I tell you, (and it is all I can say,) that your ingenuous conduct has left impressions in my bosom which can never be obliterated.”The stranger held out his hand, which Alonzo ardently grasped. They were silent, but their eyes spoke sympathy, and they parted.Alonzo immediately prepared, and was soon ready to depart. As he was stepping into his carriage, he saw the young officer returning. As he came up, “I must detain you a few moments longer, he said, and I will give you no farther trouble. You will recollect that the lady about whom I have so much teazed you, when she becameacquaintedwith you in her dream, believed that if she could speak with you, all difficulties would be removed. Conscious that this may be the case, (for with all her accomplishments she is a little superstitious,) she desires to see you. You have nothing to fear, sir; she would not for the world yield you her hand, unless in return you could give her your heart. Nor was she willing you should know that she made this request, but wished me to introduce you, as it were by stratagem. Confident, however, that you would thus far yield to the caprice of a lady, I chose to tell you thetruth. She resides near by, and it will not hinder you long.”“It is capriciousness in the extreme,” thought Alonzo; but he told the stranger he would accompany him—who immediately stepped into the carriage, and they drove, by his direction, to an elegant house in a street at a little distance, and alighted. As they entered the house, a servant handed the stranger a note, which he hastily looked over: “Tell the gentleman I will wait on him in a moment,” said he to the servant, who instantly withdrew. Turning to Alonzo, “a person is in waiting, said he, on urgent business; excuse me, therefore, if it is with reluctance I retire a few moments, after I have announced you; I will soon again be with you.”They then ascended a flight of stairs: the stranger opened the door of a chamber—“The gentleman I mentioned to you madam,” he said. Alonzo entered; the stranger closed the door and retired. The lady was sitting by a window at the lower end of the room, but arose as Alonzo was announced. She was dressed in sky-blue silk, embroidered with spangled lace; a gemmedtiaragathered her hair, from which was suspended a green veil, according to the mode of those times; asilkengirdle, with diamond clasps, surrounded her waist, anda brilliant sparkled upon her bosom. “The stranger’s description was not exaggerated, thought Alonzo; for, except one, I have never seen a more elegant figure:” and he almost wished the veil removed, that he might behold her features.“You will please to be seated, sir, she said. I know not how—I feel an inconceivable diffidence in making an excuse for the inconveniences my silly caprices have given you.”Enchanting melody was in her voice! Alonzo knew not why, but it thrilled his bosom, electrified his soul, and vibrated every nerve of his heart. Confused and hurried sensations, melancholy, yet pleasing; transporting as the recurrence of youthful joys, enrapturing as dreams of early childhood, passed in rapid succession over his imagination!She advanced towards him and turned aside her veil. Her eyes were suffused, and tears streamed down her cheeks.—Alonzo started—his whole frame shook—he gasped for breath!——“Melissa! he convulsively exclaimed,—God of infinite wonders, it is Melissa!”Again will the incidents of our history produce a pause. Our sentimental readers will experience a recurrence of sympathetic sensibilities, and will attend moreeagerly to the final scene of our drama.——“Melissa alive!” may they say—“impossible! Did not Alonzo see her deathannouncedin the public prints? Did not her cousin at New-London inform him of the circumstances, and was he not in mourning? Did not the dying Beauman confirm the melancholy fact? And was not the unquestionable testimony of her brother Edgar sufficient to seal the truth of allofthis? Did not the sexton’s wife who knew not Alonzo, corroborate it? And did not Alonzo finally read her name, her age, and the time of her death, on her tomb-stone, which exactly accorded with the publication of her death in the papers, and his own knowledge of her age? And is notallthis sufficient to prove, clearly and incontestibly prove, that she is dead? And yet here she is again, in all her primitive beauty and splendour! No, this surely can never be. However the author may succeed inhisdescription, in painting reanimated nature, he is no magician, or if he is, he cannot raise the dead.“Melissa has long since mouldered into dust,and he has raised up some female Martin Guerre, or Thomas Hoag—some person, from whose near resemblance to the deceased, he thinks to impose upon us and upon Alonzo also, for Melissa. But itwill not do; it must be the identical Melissa herself, or it might as well be her likeness in a marble statue. What! can Alonzo realize the delicacies, the tenderness, the blandishments of Melissa in another? Can her substitute point him to the rock on New London beach, the boweronher favourite hill, or so feelingly describe the charms of nature? Can he, indeed, find in her representative those alluring graces, that pensive sweetness, those unrivalled virtues and matchless worth which he found in Melissa, and which attracted, fixed and secured the youngest affections of his soul? Impossible!——Or could the author even make it out that Alonzo was deceived by a person so nearly resembling Melissa that he could not distinguish the difference, yet to his readers he must unveil the deception, and, of course, the story will end in disappointment; it will leave an unpleasant and disagreeable impression on the mind of the reader,which in novel writing is certainly wrong. It is proved as clearly as facts can prove, that he has suffered Melissa to die; and since she is dead, it is totally beyond his power to bring her to life——and so his history is intrinsicallygood for nothing.”Be not quite so hasty, my zealous censor.Did we not tell you that we were detailingfacts? Shall we disguise or discolour truth to pleaseyourtaste? Have we not told you that disappointments are the lot of life? Have we not, according to the advice of the moralist*,*SeeBarometer, No. 118led Alonzo to the temple of philosophy, the shrine of reason, and the sanctuary of religion? If all these fail—if in these Alonzo cannot find a balsam sufficient to heal his wounded bosom; then if, in despite of graves and tomb-stones, Melissa will come to his relief—will pour the balm of consolation over his anguished soul, cynical critic, can the author help it?It was indeed Melissa, the identical Melissa, whom Alonzo ascended a tree to catch a last glimpse of, as she walked up the avenue to the old mansion, after they had parted at the draw-bridge, on the morning of the day when she was so mysteriously removed. “Melissa!”——“Alonzo!”——were all they could articulate: and frown not, my fair readers, if we tell you that she was instantly in his arms, while he pressed his ardent lips to her glowing cheek.Sneer not, ye callous hearted insensibles, ye fastidious prudes, if we inform you that their tears fell in oneinterminglingshower, that their sighs wafted in one blended breeze.The sudden opening of the door aroused them to a sense of their improper situation; for who but must consider itimproperto find a young lady locked in the arms of a gentleman to whom she had just been introduced? The opening of the door, therefore, caused them quickly to change theirposition; not so hastily, however, but that the young officer who then entered the room had a glimpse of their situation.——“Aha! said he, have I caught you? Is my philosophic Plato so soon metamorphosed to abon tonenamarato? But a few hours ago, sir, and you were proof against the wholearcanaof beauty, and all the artillery of the graces; but no sooner are you for one momenttete a tetewith a fashionable belle, than your heroism and your resolutions are vanquished, your former ties dissolved, and your deceased charmer totally forgotten or neglected, by the virtue of a single glance. Well, so it is:Amor vincit omniais my motto; to thee all conquering beauty, our firmest determinations must bow. I cannot censure you for discovering, though late, that one living object is really of more intrinsic value than two dead ones. Indeed, sir, I cannot but applaud yourdetermination.”“The laws of honour, said Alonzo, smiling, compel me to submit to become the subject of your raillery and deception; I am in your power.”“I acknowledge, said the officer, that Ihave a little deceived you, my story was fiction founded on truth—thetruenovel style: but for the deceptive part, you may thank your little gipsey of a nymph there, pointing to Melissa; she planned and I executed.”“How ready yougentlemenare, replied Melissa, when accused of impropriety, to cast the blame on the defenceless! So it was with our first parents, and so it is still. But you must remember that Alonzo is yet to hear my story; there, sir, I have the advantage of you.”“ThenI confess, said he, looking at Alonzo, you will be too hard for me, and so I will say no more about it.”Melissa then introduced the young officer to Alonzo, by the appellation of Capt. Wilmot. “He is the son ofmydeceased uncle, said she, a cousin to whom I am much indebted, as you shall hereafter know.”A coach drove up to the door, which Melissa informed Alonzo was her uncle’s, and was sent to convey Alfred and her home. “You will have no objection to breakfast with me at my uncle’s, said Alfred, if it be only to keep our cousin Melissa in countenance.”Alonzo did not hesitate to accept the invitation: They immediately therefore entered the coach, a servant tookcareof Alonzo’scarriage, and they drove to the seat of Col. D——, who, with his family, received Alonzo with much friendship and politeness. Alfred had apprized them of Alonzo’s arrival in town, and of course he was expected.Col. D——was about fifty years old, his manners were majestically grave, and commanding, yet polished and polite. His family consisted of an amiable wife, considerably younger than himself, and three children: the eldest, ason, about ten years of age, and two daughters, one seven, the other four years old. Harmony and cheerfulness reigned inhisfamily, which diffused tranquillity and ease to its members and its guests.1804 paragraph: See end of textIt was agreed that Alonzo should pass a few days at the house of Melissa’s uncle, when Melissa was to accompany him to Connecticut. Alfred, with some other officers, was recruiting for the army, where his regiment then lay, and which he was shortly to join. He could not, therefore, be constantly at his uncle’s, though he was principally there while Alonzo staid: but being absent the day after his arrival, Melissa and Alonzo having retired to a room separate from the family, she gave him the following account of what happened after theyhadparted at the old mansion.“The morning after you left me, she said, John came to the bridge and called to be let in:—I immediately went to the gate, opened it, and let down the bridge. John informed me that my aunt had suddenly and unexpectedly arrived that morning in company with a strange gentleman, and that he had come for the keys, as my aunt was to visit the mansion that day. I strove to persuade John to leave the keys in my possession, and that I would make all easy with my aunt when she arrived. This, though with much reluctance, he at length consented to, and departed. Soon after this my aunt came, and without much ceremony demanded the keys, insinuating that I had obtained them from John by imposition, and for the basest purposes. This aroused me to indignation, and I answered by informing her that whatever purposes the persecution and cruelty of my family had compelled me to adopt, my conscience, under present circumstances approved them, and I refused to give her the keys. She then ordered me to prepare to leave the mansion, and accompany her to her residence at the house of John. I told her thatI had been placed there by my father, andshould not consent to a removal unless by his express orders. She then left me, intimating that she would soon let me knowthat her authority was not to be thus trampled upon with impunity.“I immediately raised the bridge, and made fast the gate, determining, on no considerations, to suffer it to be opened until evening. The day passed away without any occurrence worthy of note, and as soon as it was dark, I went, opened the gate, and cautiously let down the bridge. I then returned to the mansion, and placed the candle, as we had concerted, at the window. Shortly after I heard a carriage roll over the bridge and proceed up the avenue.—My heart fluttered; I wished—I hardlyknewwhat I did wish; but I feared I was about to act improperly, as I had no other idea but that it was you, Alonzo, who was approaching. The carriage stopped near the door of the mansion; a footstep ascended the stairs. Judge of my surprise and agitation, when my father entered the chamber! A maid and two men servants followed him. He directed me to make immediate preparations for leaving the mansion—which command, with the assistance of the servants, I obeyed with a heart too full for utterance.“As soon as I was ready, we entered the carriage, which drove rapidly away. As we passed out of the gate, I looked backatthe mansion, and saw the light of the candle,which I had forgotten to remove, streaming from the window, and it was by an extraordinary effort that I prevented myself from fainting.“The carriage drove, as near as I could judge, about ten miles, when we stopped at an inn for the night, except my father, who returned home on horseback, leaving me at the inn in company with the servants, where the carriage also remained. The maid was a person who had been attached to me from my infancy. I asked her whether she could explain these mysterious proceedings.“All I know, Miss, I will tell you, said she. Your father received a letter to-day from your aunt, which put him in a terribleflutter:—he immediately ordered his carriage and directed us to attend him. He met your aunt at a tavern somewhere away back, and she told him that the gentleman who used to come to our house so much once, had contrived to carry you off from the place where you lived with her; so your father concluded to send you to your uncle’s in Carolina, and saidthatI must go with you. And to tell you the truth, Miss, I was not displeased with it; for your father has grown so sour of late, that we havebutlittle peace in the house.“By this I found that my fate was fixed, and I gave myself up for some time to unavailingsorrow. The maid informed me that my mother was well, which was one sweet consolation among my many troubles; but she knew nothing of my father’s late conduct.“The next morning we proceeded, and I was hurried on by rapid stages to the Chesapeak, where, with the maid and one man servant, I was put on board a packet for Charleston, at which place we arrived in due time.“My uncle and his family received me with much tenderness: the servant delivered apackageof letters to my uncle from my father. The carriage with one servant (the driver) had returned from the Chesapeak to Connecticut.“My father had but one brother and two sisters,ofwhich my uncle here is the youngest. One of my aunts, the old maid, who was myprotectressat the old mansion, you have seen at my father’s. The other was the mother of Alfred:—she married very young, to a gentleman in Hartford, of the name of Wilmot, who fell before the walls of Louisburg, in the old French war. My aunt did not long survive him;—her health, which had been for some time declining, received so serious a shock by this catastrophe, that she died a few months after the melancholy tidingsarrived,leaving Alfred,their only child, thenan infant, to the protection of his relations, who as soon as he arrived at a suitable age, placed him at school.“My grandfather, who had the principal management of Mr. Wilmot’s estate, sent my uncle, who was then young and unmarried, to Hartford, for the purpose of transacting the necessary business. Here he became acquainted with a young lady, eminent for beauty and loveliness, but without fortune, the daughter of a poor mechanic. As soon as my grandfather was informed of this attachment, he, in a very peremptory manner, ordered my uncle to break off the connection on pain of his highest displeasure. But such is the force of early impressions, (Melissa sighed) that my uncle found it impossible to submit to thesefirminjunctions; a clandestine marriage ensued, and my grandfather’smaledictionsin consequence. The union was, however, soon dissolved; my uncle’s wife died in about twelve months after their marriage, and soon after the birth ofthefirst child, which was a daughter. Inconsolable and comfortless, my uncle put the childoutto nurse, and travelled to the south. After wandering about for some time, he took up his residence in Charleston, where he amassed a splendid fortune. He finally married to an amiableand respectablewoman, whose tenderness,though it did not entirely remove, yetsoongreatly alleviated the pangs of early sorrow; and this, added to the little blandishments of a young family, fixed him in a state of more contentedness than he once ever expected to see.“His daughter by his first wife, when she became of proper age, was sent to a respectable boarding-school in Boston, where she remained until within about two years before I came here.“Alfred was educated at Harvard College: as soon as he had graduated, he came here on my uncle’s request, and has since remained in his family.“Soon after I arrived here; my uncle came into my chamber one day.“Melissa,said he, I find by your father’s lettersthathe considers youtohave formed an improper connection. I wish you to give me a true statement of the matter, and if any thing can be done to reconcile you to your father, you may depend upon my assistance. I have seen some troubles inthisway myself, in my early days; perhaps mycounselmay be of some service.”“I immediately gavehima correct account of every particular circumstance, from the time of my first acquaintance with you until my arrival atthishouse. He sat some time silent, and then told me that myfather, he believed, had drawn the worst side of the picture; and that he had urged him to exert every means in his power to reclaim me to obedience: That Beauman was to follow me in a few months, and that, if I stillrefusedto yield him my hand, my father positively and solemnly declared that he would discard me forever, and strenuously enjoined it upon him to do the same. “I well know my brother’s temper, continued my uncle; the case is difficult, but something must be done. I will immediately write to your father,desiringhim not to proceed too rashly; in the mean time we must consider what measures to pursue. You must not, my niece, you must not be sacrificed.” So saying, he left me, highly consoled that, instead of a tyrant, I had found a friend in my new protector.“Alfred was made acquainted withtheaffair, and many were the plans projected for my benefit, and abandoned as indefeasible, till an event happened which called forth all the fortitude of my uncle to support it, and operated in the end to free me from persecution.“My uncle’s daughter, by his first wife, was of a very delicate and sickly constitution, and her health evidentlydecreasing. Aftershe came to this place, she was sent to a village on one of the high hills of Pedee,where she remained a considerable time; she then went to one of the inland towns in North Carolina, from whence she had but just returned with Alfred when I arrived. Afterwards I accompanied her to Georgetown, and other places, attended by her father, so that she was little more known in Charleston than myself. But all answered no purpose to the restoration of her health; a confirmed hectic carried her off in the bloom of youth.“I was but a few months older than she; her name was Melissa, a name which a pious grandmother had borne, and wasthereforeretained in the family. Our similarity of age, and in some measure of appearance, our being so little known in Charleston, and our names being the same, suggested to Alfred the idea of imposing on my father, by passing off my cousin’s death as my own. This would, at least, deter Beauman from prosecuting his intended journey to Charleston; it would also give time for farther deliberation, and might so operate on my father’s feelings as to soften that obduracy of temper, which deeply disquieted himself and others, and thus finally be productive of happily effecting the designed purpose.“My uncle was too deeply overwhelmed in grief to be particularly consulted on thisplan. He however entrusted Alfred to act with full powers, and to use his name for my interest, if necessary. Alfred therefore procured a publication, as of my death, in the Connecticut papers, particularly at New London, the native place of Beauman. In Charleston it wasalsogenerally supposed that it was the niece, and not the daughter of Col. D——, who had died.—This imposition was likewise practiseduponthe sexton, who keeps the register of deaths.*Alfred then wrote a letter to my father, in my uncle’s name, stating the particulars of my cousin’s death, and applying them to me. The epitaph on her tombstone was likewise so devised that it would with equal propriety apply either to her or to me.*This was formerly the case.“To undeceive you, Alonzo, continued Melissa, was the next object. I consulted with Alfred how this should be done.——“My sister, he said, (in our private circles he always called me by the tender name of sister,) I am determined to see you happy before I relinquish the business I have undertaken: letters are a precarious mode of communication; I will make a journey to Connecticut, find out Alonzo, visit your friends, and see how the plan operates. Iam known to your father, who has ever treated me as a relative.I will return as speedily as possible, and we shall then know what measures are best next to pursue.”“I requested him to unfold the deception to my mother, and, if he found it expedient, to Vincent and Mr. Simpson, in whose friendship and fidelity I was sure he might safely confide.“He soon departed, and returned in about two months. He found my father and mother in extreme distress on account of my supposed death: my mother’s grief had brought her ontothe bed of sickness; but when Alfred had undeceived her she rapidly revived. My father told Alfred that he seriously regretted opposing my inclinations, and that, were it possible he could retrace the steps he had taken, he should conduct in a very different manner, as he was not only deprived ofme, but Edgar also, who had gone to Holland in an official capacity, soon after receiving the tidings of my death. “I am now childless,” said my father in tears. Alfred’s feelings were moved, and could he then have found you, he would have told my father the truth; but lest he should relapse from present determinations, he considered it his duty still with him, to continue the deception.“On enquiring at your father’s, at Vincent’s, and atMr.Simpson’s, he could learn nothing of you, except that you had gonein search of me. Vincent conjectured that you had goneto New London, judging possibly that you would find me there. Alfred therefore determined to proceed to that place immediately. He thenconfidentiallyunfolded to your father, Vincent, and Mr. Simpson, the scheme, desiring that if you returned you would proceed immediately to Charleston. My father was still to be kept in ignorance.“Alfred proceeded immediately to New London: from my cousin there he was informed of your interview with him; but from whence you then came,orwhere you went, he knew not; and after making the strictest enquiry, he could hear nothing more of you. By a vessel in that port, bound directly for Holland, he wrote an account of the whole affair to Edgar, mentioning his unsuccessful search to find you; and returned to Charleston.“Alfred learnt from my friends the circumstances which occasioned my sudden removal from the old mansion. The morning you left me you was discovered by my aunt, who was passing the road in a chair with a gentleman, whom she had then but recently become acquainted with. My auntknewyou. They immediately droveto John’s hut. On finding that John had left the keys with me, she sent him for them; and on my refusing to give them up, she came herself, as I have before related; and as she succeeded no better than John, shereturned anddispatched a message to my father,informinghim of the circumstances, and her suspicions of your having been to the mansion, and that, from my having possession of the keys and refusing to yield them up, there was little doubt but that we had formed a plan for my escape.“Alarmed at this information, my father immediately ordered his carriage, drove to the mansion, and removed me, as I have before informed you.“I ought to have told you, that the maid and man servant who attended me to Charleston, not liking the country, and growing sickly, were sent back by my uncle, after they had been there about two months.”Alonzo found by thisnarrativethat John had deceived him, when he made his enquiries of him concerning his knowledge of Melissa’s removal. But this was not surprising: John was tenant to Melissa’s aunt, and subservient to all her views;—she had undoubtedly given himinstructionshow to act.“But who was the strange gentlemanwith your aunt?” enquired Alonzo. “This I will also tell you, answered Melissa,tho’it unfolds a tale which reflects no great honour to my family.“Hamblin was the name which this man assumed: he said he had been an eminent merchant in New York, and had left it about the time it was taken by the British. He lodged at an inn where my aunt frequently stopped when she was out collecting her rents, where he first introduced himself to her acquaintance, and ingratiated himself into her favour by art and insidiousness. He accompanied her on her visits to her tenants, and assisted her in collecting her rents. He told her, that when the war came on, he had turned his effects into money, which he had with him, and was now in pursuit of some country place where he might purchase a residence to remain during the war. To cut the story as short as possible, hefinallyinitiated himself so far in my aunt’s favour that she accepted his hand, and, contrary to my father’s opinion, she married him, and he soon after persuaded her to sell her property, under pretence of removing to some populous town, and living in style. Her property, however, was no sooner sold (which my father bought for ready cash, at a lowprice) than he found means to realize the money, and absconded.“It was afterwards foundoutthat his real name was Brenton; that he hadlefta wife and family in Virginia in indigent circumstances, where he had spent an ample fortune, left him by his father, in debauchery, and involved himself deeply in debt. He had scarcely time to get off with the booty he swindled from my aunt, when his creditors from Virginia were at his heels. He fled to the British at New York, where he rioted for a few months, was finally stabbed by a soldier in a fracas, and died the next day. He was about thirty-five years old.“All these troubles bore so heavily upon my aunt, that she went into a decline, and died about six months ago.“After Alfred returned from Connecticut, he wrote frequently to Vincent and Mr. Simpson, but could obtain no intelligence concerning you. It would be needless, Alonzo, to describe my conjectures, my anxieties, my feelings! The death of my cousin and aunt had kept me in crapeuntil, at the instance of Alfred, I put it off yesterday morning at my uncle’s housein town, which Alfred had proposed for the scene of action, after he had discovered the cause of my fainting at the theatre. I did not readilycome into Alfred’s plan to deceive you: “Suffer me, he said, to try the constancy of yourLeander;——I doubt whether he would swim the Hellespont for you.“This aroused my pride and confidence, and I permitted him to proceed.”Alonzo then gaveMelissaa minute account of all thathadhappened to him from the time of their parting at the old mansion until he met with her the day before. At the mention of Beauman’s fate Melissa sighed. “With how many vain fears, said she, was I perplexed, lest, by some means he should discover my existence and place of residence, after he, alas, was silent in the tomb!”Alonzo told Melissa that he had received a letter from Edgar, after he arrived in Holland, and that he had written him an answer, just as he left Paris, informing him of his reasons for returning to America.When the time arrived that Alonzo and Melissa were to set out for Connecticut, Melissa’s uncle and Alfred accompanied them as far as Georgetown, where an affectionate parting took place: The latter returned to Charleston, and the former proceeded on their journey.Philadelphia was now in possession of the British troops. Alonzo foundDr.Franklin’s agent at Chester, transacted his business,went on, arrived at Vincent’s where he left Melissa, and proceeded immediately to his father’s.The friends of Alonzo and Melissa were joyfully surprised at their arrival. Melissa’s mother was sent for to Vincent’s. Let imagination paint the meeting! As yet however they were not prepared toundeceiveher father.Alonzo found his parents in penurious circumstances; indeed, his father having the preceeding summer, been too indisposed to manage his little farm with attention, and being unable to hire laborers, hiscropshadyieldedbut a scanty supply, and he had been compelled to sell most of his stock to answer pressing demands. With great joy they welcomed Alonzo,whom they had given up as lost. “You still find your father poor, Alonzo, said the old gentleman, but you find him still honest.—From my inability to labour, we have latterly been a little more pressed than usual; but having now recovered my health, I trustthatthat difficulty will soon be removed.”Alonzo asked his father if heever knewDr.Franklin.“We were school-mates, he replied,and were intimately acquainted after we became young men in business for ourselves.We have done each other favours; I once divided my money with Franklin on an urgent occasion to him; he afterwards repaid me with ample interest—he will never forget it.”Alonzo then related to his father all the incidents of his travels, minutely particularizing the disinterested conduct of Franklin, and then presented his father with the reversion of his estate. The old man fell on his knees, and with tears streaming down his withered cheeks, offered devout thanks to the great Dispenser of all mercies.Alonzo then visited Melissa’s father, who received him with much complacency. “I have injured, said he, my young friend, deeply injured you; but in doing this, I have inflicted a wound still deeperinmy own bosom.”Alonzo desired him not to renew his sorrows. “What is past, said he, is beyond recal; but a subject of some importance to me, is the object of my present visit.—True it is, that your daughter was theobjectof my earliest affection—an affection which my bosom must ever retain;but being separated by the will of Providence—for I view Providence as overruling all events for wise purposes—I betook myself to travel. Time, you know it is said, sir, will blunt the sharpest thorns of sorrow.—[Theold man sighed.]——In my travels I have found a lady so nearly resembling your daughter, that I was induced to sue for her hand, and have been so happy as to gain the promise of it. The favour I have to ask of you, sir, is only that you will permit the marriage ceremony to be celebrated in your house, as you know my father is poor, his house small and inconvenient, and that you will also honour me by giving the lady away. In receiving her from your hands, I shall in some measure realize formerhappyanticipations; I shall receive her in the character of Melissa.”“Ah! said Melissa’s father, were it in my power—could Ibutgive you the original; But how vain that wish! Yes, my young friend, your request shall be punctually complied with: I will take upon myself the preparations. Name your day, and if the lady is portionless, in that she shall be to me a Melissa.”Alonzo bowed hishead ingratitude; and after appointing that day week,hedeparted.Invitations were once more sent abroad for the wedding of Alonzo and Melissa.—Few indeed knew it to be the real Melissa, but they were generally informed of Alonzo’sreasonsfor preferring the celebration at her father’s.The evening before the day on which the marriage was to take place, Alonzo and Melissa were sitting with the Vincents in an upper room, when a person rappedatthe door below. Vincent went down, and immediately returned, introducing, to the joy and surprise of the company, Edgar!Here, again, we shall leave it for the imagination to depict the scene of an affectionate brother, meeting a tender and only sister, whom he had long since supposed to be dead! He had been at his father’s, and his mother had let him into the secret, when he immediately hastened to Vincent’s. He told them that he did not stay long in Holland; that after receiving Alonzo’s letter from Paris, he felt an unconquerable propensity to return, and soon sailed for America, arrived at Boston, came to New-Haven, took orders in the ministry, and had reached home that day. He informed them that Mr. Simpson and family had arrived at his father’s, and some relatives whom his mother had invited.The next morning ushered in the day in which the hero and heroine of our story were to consummate their felicity. Nocross purposesstood ready to intervene their happiness,no determined rival,no obdurate father, no watchful, scowling aunt, to interrupt their transports. It was the latter end of May; nature wasarrayed in her richest ornaments, and adorned with her sweetest perfumes. The sunblendedits mild lustre with thelandscape’slovely green; silk-winged breezes frolicked amidst the flowers; the spring birdscarolledin varying strains:“The air was fragrance, and the world was love.”Evening was appointed for the ceremony, and Edgar was to be the officiating clergyman.“To tie those bands which nought but death can sever.”When the hour arrived, they repaired to the house of Melissa’s father, where numerous guests had assembled. Melissa was introduced into the bridal apartment, and took her seat among a brilliant circle of ladies. She was attired in robes “white as the southern clouds,” spangled with silver, and trimmed with deep gold lace; her hair hung loosely upon her shoulders, encircled by a wreath ofartificialflowers. She had regained all her former loveliness; the rose and the lily again blended their tinges in her cheek; againpensive sprightlinesssparkled in her eye.Alonzo was now introduced, and took his seat at the side of Melissa. His father and mother came next, who were placed at the right hand of the young couple: Melissa’sparents followed, and were stationed at the left. Edgar then came and took his seat in front; after which the guests were summoned, who filled the room. Edgar then rising,motionedto the intended bride and bridegroom to rise also. He next turned to Alonzo’s father for his sanction, who bowed assent. Then addressing his own father, with emotions that scarcely suffered him to articulate. “Do you, sir, said he, give this lady to that gentleman?” A solemn silence prevailed in the room. Melissa was extremely agitated, as her father slowly rising, and with down-cast eyes,“Where tides of heavysorrowswell’d,”took her trembling hand, and conveying it into Alonzo’s, “May the smiles of heaven rest upon you, he said; may future blessings crown your present happy prospects; and may your latter days never be embittered by the premature loss of near and dear——”Pungent grief here choaked his utterance, and at this moment Melissa, falling upon her knees, “Dear father! she exclaimed, bursting into tears, pardon deception; acknowledge your daughter—your own Melissa!”Her father started—he gazed at her with scrutinizing attention, and sunk back in hischair.—“My daughter! he cried—God of mysterious mercy! it is my daughter!”The guests caught the contagious sympathy; convulsive sobs arose from all parts of the room. Melissa’s father clasped her in his arms—“AnddoI receive theeasfrom the dead! he said. I am anxious to hear themightymystery unfolded. But first let the solemn rites for which we are assembled be concluded; let not an old man’s anxiety interrupt the ceremony.”“But you are apprised, sir, said Alonzo, of my inability to support your daughter according to her deserts.”“Leave that to me, my young friend, replied her father. I have enough: my children are restored, and I am happy.”Melissa soon resumed her former station. The indissoluble knot was tied: they sat down to the wedding feast, and mirth and hilarity danced in cheerful circles.Before the company retired, Edgar related the most prominent incidents of Alonzo and Melissa’s history, since they had been absent. The guests listened with attention: they applauded the conduct of our new bride and bridegroom, in which Melissa’s father cordially joined. They rejoiced to find that Alonzo’s father had regained his fortune, and copious libations werepoured forth in honour of the immortal Franklin.And now, reader of sensibility, indulge the pleasing sensations of thy bosom—for Alonzo and Melissa areMARRIED.Alonzo’s father was soon in complete repossession of his former property. The premises from which he had been driven by his unfeeling creditors, were yielded up without difficulty, and to which he immediately removed. He not only recovered the principal of the fortune he had lost, but the damages and the interest; so that, although like Job, he had seenaffliction, like him his latter days were better than his beginning. But wearied with thebustlesof life, he did not again enter into the mercantile business, but placing his money at interest in safe hands, lived retired on his little farm.A few days after the wedding, as Melissa was sitting with Alonzo, Edgar and her parents, she asked her father whether the old mansion was inhabited.“Not by human beings, he replied.——Since it has fallen into my hands I have leased it to three or four different families, who allsoonleft it underthefoolish pretence or impression of hearing noises and seeing frightful objects, and such is the superstition ofthepeople that no one now, willventure to try it again, though I suppose its inhabitants to consist only of rats and mice.”Melissa then informed them of all that had happened when she was there, the alarming noises and horrible appearances she had been witness to, and in which she was confident her senses had not deceived her. Exceedingly astonished at her relation; it was agreed that Edgar and Alonzo, properly attended, should proceed to the mansion, in order to find whether any discoveries could be made which mighttendto the elucidation of so mysterious an affair.For this purpose they chose twenty men, armed them with muskets and swords,and proceeded to the place, where they arrived in the dusk of the evening, having chosen that season as the most favourable to their designs.They found the drawbridge up, and the gate locked, as Edgar’s father said he had left them. They entered and secured them in the same manner. When they came to the house, they cautiously unlocked the door, and proceeded to the chamber, where they struck a fire andlightedcandles, which theyhadbrought with them. It was then agreed to plant fifteen of the men at suitable distances around the mansion, andretain five in the chamber with Alonzo and Edgar.The men, who were placed around the house, were stationed behind trees, stumps or rocks, and where noobjectpresented,theylay flat on the ground, with orders not to stir, ortodiscover themselves, let what would ensue, unless some alarm should be given from the house.Alonzo and Edgar were armed with pistols and side arms, and posted themselves with the five men in the chamber, taking care that the lights should not shine against the window shutters, so that nothingcouldbe discovered from without. Things thus arranged, they observed almostanimplicit silence, no one being allowed to speak, except in a low whisper.For a long time nosound washeard except the hollow roar ofthewinds in the neighbouring forest, their whistling around the angles of the mansion, or the hoarsemurmersof the distant surge. The night was dark, and only illuminated by the feeble twinkling of half clouded stars.They had watched until about midnight, when they were alarmed by noises in the rooms below, among which they could distinguish footsteps and human voices. Alonzo and Edgar, then taking each a pistol in one hand, and a drawn sword in the other,ordered their men to follow them, prepared for action. Coming to the head of the stairs, they saw a brilliant light streaming into the hall; they therefore concluded to take no candles, and to prevent discoverytheytook off their shoes. When they came into the hall opposite the door of the room from whence the light and noises proceeded, they discovered ten men genteelly dressed, sitting around a table, on which was placed a considerable quantity of gold and silver coin, a number of glasses and several decanters of wine. Alonzo and his party stood a few minutes, listening to the following discourse, which took place among thisghostlygentry.“Well, boys, we have made a fine haul this trip.”——“Yes, but poor Bob, though, was plump’d over by the d——d skulkers!”——“Aye, and had we not tugged bravely at the oars, they would have hook’d us.”——“Rascallycow-boys detained us too long.”——“Well,well,never mind it; let us knock around the wine, and then divide the spoil.”At this moment, Alonzo and Edgar, followed by the five men, rushed into the room, crying. “Surrender, or you are all dead men!” In an instant the room was involved in pitchy darkness; a loud crash was heard, then a scampering about the floor, and a noise as if several doors shutto, with violence. They however gave thealarmto the men without, by loudly shouting “Look out;” and immediately the discharge of several guns was heard around the mansion. One of the men flew up stairs and brought a light; but, to their utter amazement, no person was to be discovered in the room except their own party. The table, with its apparatus, and the chairs on which these now invisible beings had sat, hadalldisappeared, not a single trace of them being left.While they stood petrified with astonishment, the men from without called for admittance. The door being unlocked, they led in a stranger wounded, whom they immediately discovered to be one of those they had seen at the table.The men who had been stationed around the mansion informed, that some time before the alarm was made, they saw a number of persons crossing the yard from the western part of the enclosure, towards the house; that immediately after the shout was given, they discovered several people running back in the same direction: they hailed them, which being disregarded, they fired upon them, one of whom they brought down, which was the wounded man they had brought in. The others, though they pursuedthem,got off.The prisoner’s wound was not dangerous, the ball had shattered his arm, and glanced upon his breast. They dressed his wound as well as they could, and then requested him to unfold the circumstances of the suspicious appearance in which he was involved.“First promise me, on your honour, said the stranger, that you will use your influence to prevent my being punished or imprisoned.”This they readily agreed to, on condition that he would conceal nothing from them—and he gave them the following relation:That they wereapart of a gang ofillicit traders; men who had combined for the purpose of carrying on a secret and illegal commerce with the British army on Long Island, whom, contrary to the existing laws, they supplied with provisions, and brought off English goods, which they sold atvery extortionate prices. But this was not all; they also brought over large quantities of counterfeit continental money, which they put off among theAmericansfor live stock, poultry, produce, &c. which they carried to the Island. The counterfeit money they purchased by merely paying for the printing; the British having obtained copies of the American emission, struckimmensequantitiesof it in New-York, and insidiously sent it out into the country, in order to sink our currency.This gang was likewise connected with the cow-boys, who made it their business to steal, not only milch cows, and other cattle, but also hogs and sheep, which they drove by night to some convenient place on the shores of the Sound, where thesethief-partnersreceived them, and conveyed them to the British.“In our excursions across the Sound, continued the wounded man, we had frequently observed this mansion, which, from every appearance, we were convinced was uninhabited:—we therefore selected it as a suitable place for our future rendezvous, which hadthereforebeen only in the open woods. To cross the moat, we dragged up an old canoe from the sea shore, which we concealed in the bushes as soon as we recrossed from theoldmansion. To get over the wall we used ladders of ropes, placing a flatpieceof thick board on the top of the spikes driven into the wall. We found more difficulty in getting into the house:—we however at length succeeded, by tearing away a part of the back wall, where we fitted in a door so exactly, and so nicely painted it, that it could not be distinguished from the wall itself. This door was soconstructed, that on touching a spring, it wouldsuddenlyfly open, and when unrestrained, would shuttowith violence. Finding the apartment so eligible for our purpose, and fearing that at some future time we might be disturbed either by the owner of the building or some tenant, we cut similar doors into every room of the house, so that onanemergency we could traverse every apartment without access to the known doors. Trap-doors on a similar construction, communicated with the cellar:—the table, which you saw us sitting around, stood on one ofthose, which, on your abrupt appearance, as soon as the candles were extinguished, was with its contents, precipitated below, and we made our escape by those secret doors, judging, that although you had seen us, if we could get off, you would be unable to find out any thing which might lead to our discovery.
SACREDTo the Memory of inestimable departedWorth;To unrivalled Excellence and Virtue.MissMelissaD——,Whose remains are deposited here, andwhose ethereal part became a seraph,October26, 1776,In the 18th year of her age.
SACRED
To the Memory of inestimable departed
Worth;
To unrivalled Excellence and Virtue.
MissMelissaD——,
Whose remains are deposited here, and
whose ethereal part became a seraph,
October26, 1776,
In the 18th year of her age.
Alonzo bent,hekneeled, he prostrated himself, he clasped the green turf which enclosed her grave, he watered it with his tears, he warmed it with his sighs. “Where art thou, bright beam of heavenly light! he said. Come to my troubled soul, blessed spirit! Come, holy shade! come in all thy native loveliness, and cheer the bosomof wretchedness, by thy grief dispersing smile! On the ray of yon evening star descend. One moment leave the celestial regions of glory—leave, one moment, thy sister beatitudes, and glide, in entrancing beauty, before me: wave, benignly wave thy white hand, and assuage the anguish of despairing sorrow! Alas! in vain my invocation! A curtain, impenetrable, is drawn betwixt me and thee, only to be disclosed by the dissolution of nature.”
He arose and walked away: suddenly he stopped. “Yet, said he, if spirits departed lose not the power of recollection;—if they have knowledge of present events on earth, Melissa cannot have forgotten me—she must pity me.” He returned to the grave; he took her miniature from his bosom; he held it up, and earnestly viewed it by the moon’s pale ray.
“Ah, Franklin! he exclaimed, how tenderlypensivedoes she beam her lovely eye upon me! How often have I drank delicious extacy from the delicacy of those unrivalled charms! How often have they taught me to anticipate superlative and uninterrupted bliss! Mistaken and delusive hope! [returning the miniature to his bosom.] Vain andpresumptuousassurance.Then[pointing to the grave] there behold how my dearest wishes, my fondest expectations arerealized!——Hallowed turf! lie lightly on her bosom!—Sacred willows! sprinkle the dews gently over her grave, while the mourning breezes sigh sadly amid your branches! Here may the “widowed wild rose love to bloom!” Here may the first placid beams of morning delight to linger; from hence, the evening ray reluctantly withdraw!—And when the final trump shall renovate and arouse the sleeping saint;—when on “buoyant step” she soars to glory, may our meeting spirits join in beatifick transport! May my enraptured ear catch the first holywhisperof her consecrated lips.”
Alonzo having thus poured out the effusions of an overcharged heart, pensively returned to the inn, which he entered and seated himself in the common room, in deep contemplation. As usual at public inns, a number of people were in the room, among whom were several officers of the American army. Alonzo was too deeply absorbed in melancholy reflection, to notice passing incidents, until a young officer came, seated himself by him, and entered intoaconversation respecting the events of the war. He appeared to be about Alonzo’s age; his person was interesting, his manners sprightly, his observations correct.—Alonzo was, in some degree, aroused from his abstractedness;—the manners of thestranger pleased him. His frankness, his ease, his understanding, his urbanity, void of vanity or sophistication, sympathetically caught the feelings of Alonzo, and he even felt a sort of solemn regret when the stranger departed. He soon retired to bed, determining to proceedonearlyin themorning.
He arose about daylight; the horizon was overcast, and it had begun to rain, which before sunrisehadencreased to a violent storm. He found therefore that he must content himself to stay until it was over, which did not happen till near night, and too late to pursue his journey. He was informed by the inn-keeper, that the theatre, which had been closed since the commencement of the war, was to be openedforthat night only, with the tragedy ofGustavus, and close with a representation of Burgoyne’s capture, and some other recent events of the American war. To “wing the hours with swifter speed,” Alonzo determined to go to the theatre, and at the hour appointed he repaired thither.
As he was proceeding to take his seat, he passedthebox where sat the young officer, whose manners had so prepossessed him the preceding evening at the inn. He immediately arose: they exchanged salutations, and Alonzo walked on and took his seat. The evening was warm, and thehouse exceedingly crowded. After the tragedy was through, and before the after-piece commenced, the young officer came to Alonzo’s box, and made some remarks on the merit of the actors. While they were discoursing, a bustle took place in one part of the house, and several people gathered around a box, at a little distance from them. The officer turned, left Alonzo, and hastened to the place. To the general enquiryof, “what’s the matter?” it was answered, that “a lady had fainted.” She was led out, and the tumult subsided.
As soon as the after-piece was closed, Alonzo returned to the inn. As he passed along he cast his eyes toward the church-yard, wherelaythe “wither’d blessings of his richest joys.” Affection, passion, inclination, urged him to go and breathe a farewell sigh, to drop a final tear over the grave of Melissa. Discretion, reason, wisdom forbade it—forbade that heshouldre-pierce the ten thousand wounds of his bosom, by the acute revival of unavailing sorrows. He hurried to his chamber.
As he prepared to retire to rest, he saw a book lying on the table near his bed. On taking it up he found it to beYoung’s Night Thoughts, a book which, in happier days, had been the solace of many a gloomy, many a lucid hour. He took it up and thefirst lines he cast his eyes upon were the following:
“Song, beauty,youth,love, virtue, joy: this groupOf bright ideas—flowers of Paradise,As yetunforfeit! in one blaze we bind.Kneel, and present it to the skies; as allWe guess of Heaven! Andthesewere all her ownAnd she was mine, and I was—was most blest—Like blossom’d trees o’erturn’d by vernal storm,Lovely in death the beauteous ruin lay—Ye that e’er lost an angel, pity me.”
“Song, beauty,youth,love, virtue, joy: this group
Of bright ideas—flowers of Paradise,
As yetunforfeit! in one blaze we bind.
Kneel, and present it to the skies; as all
We guess of Heaven! Andthesewere all her own
And she was mine, and I was—was most blest—
Like blossom’d trees o’erturn’d by vernal storm,
Lovely in death the beauteous ruin lay—
Ye that e’er lost an angel, pity me.”
His tears fell fast upon the book! He replaced it and flung himself into bed. Sleep was far from him; he closed not his eyes till the portals of light were unbarred in the east, when he fell into interrupted slumbers.
When he awoke, the morning was considerably advanced. He arose. One consolation was yet left—to see his parents happy. He went down to order his carriage; his favourite stranger, the young officer, was in waiting, and requested a private interview. They immediately retired to a separate room,whenthe stranger thus addressed Alonzo:
“From our short acquaintance, you may, sir, consider it singular that I should attempt to scrutinize your private concerns,andmore extraordinaryyou mayesteem it, when I inform you of my reasons for so doing. Judging, however, from appearances, I have no doubt of your candour. If myquestions should be deemed improper, you will tell me so.”
Alonzo assured himthathe would treat him candidly. “This I believe, said the young officer; I take the liberty therefore to ask if you are an American?”——“I am,” answered Alonzo. “I presume, said the stranger—the question is a delicate one—I presume your family is respectable?” “Sacredly so,” replied Alonzo. “Are youmarried, sir?” “I amnot, and have ever been single.” “Have you any prospects of connecting in marriage?” “I have not, sir.” “I may then safely proceed, said the stranger; I trust you will hear me attentively; you will judge maturely; you will decide correctly,andI am confident that you will answer me sincerely.
“A young lady of this city, with whom I am well acquainted, and to whom, indeed, I am distantly related, whose father is affluent, whose connections are eminently respectable, whose manners are engaging, whose mind is virtue, whose elegance of form and personal beauty defy competition, is the cause, sir, of this mission.—Early introduced into the higher walks of life, she has passed the rounds of fashionable company; numberless suitorshavesighed for her hand, whom she complaisantly dismissed without disobliging, as her heart had not yet beentouched by the tender passion of love. Surprising as it may, however, seem, it is now about six months since she saw in her dream the youth who possessed the power to inspire her with this passion. In her dream she saw a young gentleman whose interesting manners and appearance, impressed her so deeply that she found she must be unhappy without him. She thought it was in a mixed company she saw him, but that she could not get an opportunity to speak to him. It seemed that if she could but speaktohim, all difficulties would at once be removed. At length he approached her, and just as he was about to address her, she awoke.
“This extraordinary dream shehadcommunicated to several of her acquaintance.—Confident that she should some time or other behold the real person whose semblance she had seen in her dream, she has never since been perfectly at ease in her mind. Her father, who has but two children, one beside herself, beingdotinglyfond of her, has promised that if ever she meets this unknown stranger, he will not oppose their union, provided he is respectable, and that, if worthy of her hand, he will make him independent.
“Onmy return from the inn the evening I first saw you, I told my sister—I beg pardon, sir—I was wandering from my subject—afterI first met you at the inn, I fell in company with the lady, and in arallyingway told herthatI had seen herinvisible beau, as we used to call the gentleman of the dream. I superficially described your person, and descanted a little on the embellishments of your mind. She listened with some curiosity and attention; but I had so often jested with her in this manner, that she thoughtbutlittle of it. At the play last night, I had just been speaking to her when I came to your box: her eyes followed me, but no sooner had they rested on you, than she fainted! This was the cause of my leaving you so abruptly, andof mynot returning. We conveyed her home, when she informed me that you was the person she had seen in her dream!
“To me only, she preferred disclosing the circumstance at present, for reasons which must be obvious to your understanding.—Even her father and mother are not informed of it, and should my mission prove unsuccessful, none except you, sir, she and myself, I hope and trust, will ever know any thing of the matter.
“Now, sir, it is necessaryfor mefarther to explain. As singular as the circumstances which I have related may appear to you, to me they must appear as strange.—One valuable purpose is, however, answeredthereby; it will exclude the imputation of capriciousness——the freakish whim oflove at first sight, which exists only in novels and romances. You, sir, are young, unmarried, unaffianced, your affections free: such is the condition of the lady. She enquires not into the state of your property! she asks not riches:—If she obtains the object of her choice, on him, as I have told you, will her father bestow affluence.——Whatever, sir, may be your pretensions to eminence, and they may be many, the lady is not your inferior. Her education also is such as would do honour to a gentleman of taste.
“I will not extend my remarks; you perfectly understand me—what answer shall I return?”
Alonzo sighed: for a few moments he was silent.
“Perhaps, said the stranger, you may consider themodeof this message as bearing the appearance of indecorum. If so, I presume, on reviewing the incidents whichledto—whichenforced it, as the most safe, theonlymeans of sure communication, you will change your opinion. Probably you would not wish finally to decide until you have visited the lady. This was my expectation, and I am, therefore, ready to introduce you to her presence.”
“No, sir, said Alonzo, so far from considering the message indecorous, I esteem it a peculiar honour, both as respects the lady and yourself. Nor is it necessary that I should visit the lady, to confirm the truth of what you have related. You will not, sir, receive it as an adulatory compliment, when I say, that although our acquaintance is short, yet my confidence in your integrity is such as to require no corroborating facts to establish your declaration. But, sir, there are obstacles, insuperable obstacles, to the execution of the measures you would propose.
“Your frankness to me, demands, on my part, equal candour. I assured you that I was unmarried, and had no prospect of entering into matrimonial engagements; this is indeed the fact: but it is also true that my affections—my first, my earliest affections were engaged, unalienably engaged, to an object which is now no more. Perhaps you may esteem it singular;perhapsyou will consider it enthusiasm; but, sir, it is impossible that my heart should admit a second and similar impression.”
The stranger paused. “Recent disappointments of this nature, he replied, commonly leave the mind under such gloomy influences. Time, however, the soother of severest woes, will, though slowly, yetsurely,disperse the clouds of anguish, and the rays of comfort and consolation will beam upon the soul. I wish not to be considered importunate, but the day may arrive when you may change your present determination, and then will you not regret that you refused so advantageous an overture?”
“That day will never arrive, sir answered Alonzo: I have had time for deliberate reflection since the melancholy event took place. I have experienced a sufficient change of objects andofcountry; the effect is the same. The wound is still recent, and so it will ever remain: indeed I cannot wish it otherwise. There is a rich and sacred solemnity in my sorrows, sir, which I would not exchange for the most splendid acquirements of wealth, or the most dignified titles of fame.”
The young officer sat for some time silent. “Well, sir, he said, since it is thus, seeing that these things are so, I will urge you no farther. You will pardon me respecting the part I have taken in this business, since it was with the purest designs. May consolation, comfort, and happiness, yet be yours.”
“To you and your fair friend, said Alonzo, I consider myself under the highest obligations. The gratitude I feel I can butfeebly express. Believe me, sir, when I tell you, (and it is all I can say,) that your ingenuous conduct has left impressions in my bosom which can never be obliterated.”
The stranger held out his hand, which Alonzo ardently grasped. They were silent, but their eyes spoke sympathy, and they parted.
Alonzo immediately prepared, and was soon ready to depart. As he was stepping into his carriage, he saw the young officer returning. As he came up, “I must detain you a few moments longer, he said, and I will give you no farther trouble. You will recollect that the lady about whom I have so much teazed you, when she becameacquaintedwith you in her dream, believed that if she could speak with you, all difficulties would be removed. Conscious that this may be the case, (for with all her accomplishments she is a little superstitious,) she desires to see you. You have nothing to fear, sir; she would not for the world yield you her hand, unless in return you could give her your heart. Nor was she willing you should know that she made this request, but wished me to introduce you, as it were by stratagem. Confident, however, that you would thus far yield to the caprice of a lady, I chose to tell you thetruth. She resides near by, and it will not hinder you long.”
“It is capriciousness in the extreme,” thought Alonzo; but he told the stranger he would accompany him—who immediately stepped into the carriage, and they drove, by his direction, to an elegant house in a street at a little distance, and alighted. As they entered the house, a servant handed the stranger a note, which he hastily looked over: “Tell the gentleman I will wait on him in a moment,” said he to the servant, who instantly withdrew. Turning to Alonzo, “a person is in waiting, said he, on urgent business; excuse me, therefore, if it is with reluctance I retire a few moments, after I have announced you; I will soon again be with you.”
They then ascended a flight of stairs: the stranger opened the door of a chamber—“The gentleman I mentioned to you madam,” he said. Alonzo entered; the stranger closed the door and retired. The lady was sitting by a window at the lower end of the room, but arose as Alonzo was announced. She was dressed in sky-blue silk, embroidered with spangled lace; a gemmedtiaragathered her hair, from which was suspended a green veil, according to the mode of those times; asilkengirdle, with diamond clasps, surrounded her waist, anda brilliant sparkled upon her bosom. “The stranger’s description was not exaggerated, thought Alonzo; for, except one, I have never seen a more elegant figure:” and he almost wished the veil removed, that he might behold her features.
“You will please to be seated, sir, she said. I know not how—I feel an inconceivable diffidence in making an excuse for the inconveniences my silly caprices have given you.”
Enchanting melody was in her voice! Alonzo knew not why, but it thrilled his bosom, electrified his soul, and vibrated every nerve of his heart. Confused and hurried sensations, melancholy, yet pleasing; transporting as the recurrence of youthful joys, enrapturing as dreams of early childhood, passed in rapid succession over his imagination!
She advanced towards him and turned aside her veil. Her eyes were suffused, and tears streamed down her cheeks.—Alonzo started—his whole frame shook—he gasped for breath!——“Melissa! he convulsively exclaimed,—God of infinite wonders, it is Melissa!”
Again will the incidents of our history produce a pause. Our sentimental readers will experience a recurrence of sympathetic sensibilities, and will attend moreeagerly to the final scene of our drama.——“Melissa alive!” may they say—“impossible! Did not Alonzo see her deathannouncedin the public prints? Did not her cousin at New-London inform him of the circumstances, and was he not in mourning? Did not the dying Beauman confirm the melancholy fact? And was not the unquestionable testimony of her brother Edgar sufficient to seal the truth of allofthis? Did not the sexton’s wife who knew not Alonzo, corroborate it? And did not Alonzo finally read her name, her age, and the time of her death, on her tomb-stone, which exactly accorded with the publication of her death in the papers, and his own knowledge of her age? And is notallthis sufficient to prove, clearly and incontestibly prove, that she is dead? And yet here she is again, in all her primitive beauty and splendour! No, this surely can never be. However the author may succeed inhisdescription, in painting reanimated nature, he is no magician, or if he is, he cannot raise the dead.
“Melissa has long since mouldered into dust,and he has raised up some female Martin Guerre, or Thomas Hoag—some person, from whose near resemblance to the deceased, he thinks to impose upon us and upon Alonzo also, for Melissa. But itwill not do; it must be the identical Melissa herself, or it might as well be her likeness in a marble statue. What! can Alonzo realize the delicacies, the tenderness, the blandishments of Melissa in another? Can her substitute point him to the rock on New London beach, the boweronher favourite hill, or so feelingly describe the charms of nature? Can he, indeed, find in her representative those alluring graces, that pensive sweetness, those unrivalled virtues and matchless worth which he found in Melissa, and which attracted, fixed and secured the youngest affections of his soul? Impossible!——Or could the author even make it out that Alonzo was deceived by a person so nearly resembling Melissa that he could not distinguish the difference, yet to his readers he must unveil the deception, and, of course, the story will end in disappointment; it will leave an unpleasant and disagreeable impression on the mind of the reader,which in novel writing is certainly wrong. It is proved as clearly as facts can prove, that he has suffered Melissa to die; and since she is dead, it is totally beyond his power to bring her to life——and so his history is intrinsicallygood for nothing.”
Be not quite so hasty, my zealous censor.Did we not tell you that we were detailingfacts? Shall we disguise or discolour truth to pleaseyourtaste? Have we not told you that disappointments are the lot of life? Have we not, according to the advice of the moralist*,*SeeBarometer, No. 118led Alonzo to the temple of philosophy, the shrine of reason, and the sanctuary of religion? If all these fail—if in these Alonzo cannot find a balsam sufficient to heal his wounded bosom; then if, in despite of graves and tomb-stones, Melissa will come to his relief—will pour the balm of consolation over his anguished soul, cynical critic, can the author help it?
It was indeed Melissa, the identical Melissa, whom Alonzo ascended a tree to catch a last glimpse of, as she walked up the avenue to the old mansion, after they had parted at the draw-bridge, on the morning of the day when she was so mysteriously removed. “Melissa!”——“Alonzo!”——were all they could articulate: and frown not, my fair readers, if we tell you that she was instantly in his arms, while he pressed his ardent lips to her glowing cheek.
Sneer not, ye callous hearted insensibles, ye fastidious prudes, if we inform you that their tears fell in oneinterminglingshower, that their sighs wafted in one blended breeze.
The sudden opening of the door aroused them to a sense of their improper situation; for who but must consider itimproperto find a young lady locked in the arms of a gentleman to whom she had just been introduced? The opening of the door, therefore, caused them quickly to change theirposition; not so hastily, however, but that the young officer who then entered the room had a glimpse of their situation.——“Aha! said he, have I caught you? Is my philosophic Plato so soon metamorphosed to abon tonenamarato? But a few hours ago, sir, and you were proof against the wholearcanaof beauty, and all the artillery of the graces; but no sooner are you for one momenttete a tetewith a fashionable belle, than your heroism and your resolutions are vanquished, your former ties dissolved, and your deceased charmer totally forgotten or neglected, by the virtue of a single glance. Well, so it is:Amor vincit omniais my motto; to thee all conquering beauty, our firmest determinations must bow. I cannot censure you for discovering, though late, that one living object is really of more intrinsic value than two dead ones. Indeed, sir, I cannot but applaud yourdetermination.”
“The laws of honour, said Alonzo, smiling, compel me to submit to become the subject of your raillery and deception; I am in your power.”
“I acknowledge, said the officer, that Ihave a little deceived you, my story was fiction founded on truth—thetruenovel style: but for the deceptive part, you may thank your little gipsey of a nymph there, pointing to Melissa; she planned and I executed.”
“How ready yougentlemenare, replied Melissa, when accused of impropriety, to cast the blame on the defenceless! So it was with our first parents, and so it is still. But you must remember that Alonzo is yet to hear my story; there, sir, I have the advantage of you.”
“ThenI confess, said he, looking at Alonzo, you will be too hard for me, and so I will say no more about it.”
Melissa then introduced the young officer to Alonzo, by the appellation of Capt. Wilmot. “He is the son ofmydeceased uncle, said she, a cousin to whom I am much indebted, as you shall hereafter know.”
A coach drove up to the door, which Melissa informed Alonzo was her uncle’s, and was sent to convey Alfred and her home. “You will have no objection to breakfast with me at my uncle’s, said Alfred, if it be only to keep our cousin Melissa in countenance.”
Alonzo did not hesitate to accept the invitation: They immediately therefore entered the coach, a servant tookcareof Alonzo’scarriage, and they drove to the seat of Col. D——, who, with his family, received Alonzo with much friendship and politeness. Alfred had apprized them of Alonzo’s arrival in town, and of course he was expected.
Col. D——was about fifty years old, his manners were majestically grave, and commanding, yet polished and polite. His family consisted of an amiable wife, considerably younger than himself, and three children: the eldest, ason, about ten years of age, and two daughters, one seven, the other four years old. Harmony and cheerfulness reigned inhisfamily, which diffused tranquillity and ease to its members and its guests.
1804 paragraph: See end of text
It was agreed that Alonzo should pass a few days at the house of Melissa’s uncle, when Melissa was to accompany him to Connecticut. Alfred, with some other officers, was recruiting for the army, where his regiment then lay, and which he was shortly to join. He could not, therefore, be constantly at his uncle’s, though he was principally there while Alonzo staid: but being absent the day after his arrival, Melissa and Alonzo having retired to a room separate from the family, she gave him the following account of what happened after theyhadparted at the old mansion.
“The morning after you left me, she said, John came to the bridge and called to be let in:—I immediately went to the gate, opened it, and let down the bridge. John informed me that my aunt had suddenly and unexpectedly arrived that morning in company with a strange gentleman, and that he had come for the keys, as my aunt was to visit the mansion that day. I strove to persuade John to leave the keys in my possession, and that I would make all easy with my aunt when she arrived. This, though with much reluctance, he at length consented to, and departed. Soon after this my aunt came, and without much ceremony demanded the keys, insinuating that I had obtained them from John by imposition, and for the basest purposes. This aroused me to indignation, and I answered by informing her that whatever purposes the persecution and cruelty of my family had compelled me to adopt, my conscience, under present circumstances approved them, and I refused to give her the keys. She then ordered me to prepare to leave the mansion, and accompany her to her residence at the house of John. I told her thatI had been placed there by my father, andshould not consent to a removal unless by his express orders. She then left me, intimating that she would soon let me knowthat her authority was not to be thus trampled upon with impunity.
“I immediately raised the bridge, and made fast the gate, determining, on no considerations, to suffer it to be opened until evening. The day passed away without any occurrence worthy of note, and as soon as it was dark, I went, opened the gate, and cautiously let down the bridge. I then returned to the mansion, and placed the candle, as we had concerted, at the window. Shortly after I heard a carriage roll over the bridge and proceed up the avenue.—My heart fluttered; I wished—I hardlyknewwhat I did wish; but I feared I was about to act improperly, as I had no other idea but that it was you, Alonzo, who was approaching. The carriage stopped near the door of the mansion; a footstep ascended the stairs. Judge of my surprise and agitation, when my father entered the chamber! A maid and two men servants followed him. He directed me to make immediate preparations for leaving the mansion—which command, with the assistance of the servants, I obeyed with a heart too full for utterance.
“As soon as I was ready, we entered the carriage, which drove rapidly away. As we passed out of the gate, I looked backatthe mansion, and saw the light of the candle,which I had forgotten to remove, streaming from the window, and it was by an extraordinary effort that I prevented myself from fainting.
“The carriage drove, as near as I could judge, about ten miles, when we stopped at an inn for the night, except my father, who returned home on horseback, leaving me at the inn in company with the servants, where the carriage also remained. The maid was a person who had been attached to me from my infancy. I asked her whether she could explain these mysterious proceedings.
“All I know, Miss, I will tell you, said she. Your father received a letter to-day from your aunt, which put him in a terribleflutter:—he immediately ordered his carriage and directed us to attend him. He met your aunt at a tavern somewhere away back, and she told him that the gentleman who used to come to our house so much once, had contrived to carry you off from the place where you lived with her; so your father concluded to send you to your uncle’s in Carolina, and saidthatI must go with you. And to tell you the truth, Miss, I was not displeased with it; for your father has grown so sour of late, that we havebutlittle peace in the house.
“By this I found that my fate was fixed, and I gave myself up for some time to unavailingsorrow. The maid informed me that my mother was well, which was one sweet consolation among my many troubles; but she knew nothing of my father’s late conduct.
“The next morning we proceeded, and I was hurried on by rapid stages to the Chesapeak, where, with the maid and one man servant, I was put on board a packet for Charleston, at which place we arrived in due time.
“My uncle and his family received me with much tenderness: the servant delivered apackageof letters to my uncle from my father. The carriage with one servant (the driver) had returned from the Chesapeak to Connecticut.
“My father had but one brother and two sisters,ofwhich my uncle here is the youngest. One of my aunts, the old maid, who was myprotectressat the old mansion, you have seen at my father’s. The other was the mother of Alfred:—she married very young, to a gentleman in Hartford, of the name of Wilmot, who fell before the walls of Louisburg, in the old French war. My aunt did not long survive him;—her health, which had been for some time declining, received so serious a shock by this catastrophe, that she died a few months after the melancholy tidingsarrived,leaving Alfred,their only child, thenan infant, to the protection of his relations, who as soon as he arrived at a suitable age, placed him at school.
“My grandfather, who had the principal management of Mr. Wilmot’s estate, sent my uncle, who was then young and unmarried, to Hartford, for the purpose of transacting the necessary business. Here he became acquainted with a young lady, eminent for beauty and loveliness, but without fortune, the daughter of a poor mechanic. As soon as my grandfather was informed of this attachment, he, in a very peremptory manner, ordered my uncle to break off the connection on pain of his highest displeasure. But such is the force of early impressions, (Melissa sighed) that my uncle found it impossible to submit to thesefirminjunctions; a clandestine marriage ensued, and my grandfather’smaledictionsin consequence. The union was, however, soon dissolved; my uncle’s wife died in about twelve months after their marriage, and soon after the birth ofthefirst child, which was a daughter. Inconsolable and comfortless, my uncle put the childoutto nurse, and travelled to the south. After wandering about for some time, he took up his residence in Charleston, where he amassed a splendid fortune. He finally married to an amiableand respectablewoman, whose tenderness,though it did not entirely remove, yetsoongreatly alleviated the pangs of early sorrow; and this, added to the little blandishments of a young family, fixed him in a state of more contentedness than he once ever expected to see.
“His daughter by his first wife, when she became of proper age, was sent to a respectable boarding-school in Boston, where she remained until within about two years before I came here.
“Alfred was educated at Harvard College: as soon as he had graduated, he came here on my uncle’s request, and has since remained in his family.
“Soon after I arrived here; my uncle came into my chamber one day.“Melissa,said he, I find by your father’s lettersthathe considers youtohave formed an improper connection. I wish you to give me a true statement of the matter, and if any thing can be done to reconcile you to your father, you may depend upon my assistance. I have seen some troubles inthisway myself, in my early days; perhaps mycounselmay be of some service.”
“I immediately gavehima correct account of every particular circumstance, from the time of my first acquaintance with you until my arrival atthishouse. He sat some time silent, and then told me that myfather, he believed, had drawn the worst side of the picture; and that he had urged him to exert every means in his power to reclaim me to obedience: That Beauman was to follow me in a few months, and that, if I stillrefusedto yield him my hand, my father positively and solemnly declared that he would discard me forever, and strenuously enjoined it upon him to do the same. “I well know my brother’s temper, continued my uncle; the case is difficult, but something must be done. I will immediately write to your father,desiringhim not to proceed too rashly; in the mean time we must consider what measures to pursue. You must not, my niece, you must not be sacrificed.” So saying, he left me, highly consoled that, instead of a tyrant, I had found a friend in my new protector.
“Alfred was made acquainted withtheaffair, and many were the plans projected for my benefit, and abandoned as indefeasible, till an event happened which called forth all the fortitude of my uncle to support it, and operated in the end to free me from persecution.
“My uncle’s daughter, by his first wife, was of a very delicate and sickly constitution, and her health evidentlydecreasing. Aftershe came to this place, she was sent to a village on one of the high hills of Pedee,where she remained a considerable time; she then went to one of the inland towns in North Carolina, from whence she had but just returned with Alfred when I arrived. Afterwards I accompanied her to Georgetown, and other places, attended by her father, so that she was little more known in Charleston than myself. But all answered no purpose to the restoration of her health; a confirmed hectic carried her off in the bloom of youth.
“I was but a few months older than she; her name was Melissa, a name which a pious grandmother had borne, and wasthereforeretained in the family. Our similarity of age, and in some measure of appearance, our being so little known in Charleston, and our names being the same, suggested to Alfred the idea of imposing on my father, by passing off my cousin’s death as my own. This would, at least, deter Beauman from prosecuting his intended journey to Charleston; it would also give time for farther deliberation, and might so operate on my father’s feelings as to soften that obduracy of temper, which deeply disquieted himself and others, and thus finally be productive of happily effecting the designed purpose.
“My uncle was too deeply overwhelmed in grief to be particularly consulted on thisplan. He however entrusted Alfred to act with full powers, and to use his name for my interest, if necessary. Alfred therefore procured a publication, as of my death, in the Connecticut papers, particularly at New London, the native place of Beauman. In Charleston it wasalsogenerally supposed that it was the niece, and not the daughter of Col. D——, who had died.—This imposition was likewise practiseduponthe sexton, who keeps the register of deaths.*Alfred then wrote a letter to my father, in my uncle’s name, stating the particulars of my cousin’s death, and applying them to me. The epitaph on her tombstone was likewise so devised that it would with equal propriety apply either to her or to me.
*This was formerly the case.
“To undeceive you, Alonzo, continued Melissa, was the next object. I consulted with Alfred how this should be done.——“My sister, he said, (in our private circles he always called me by the tender name of sister,) I am determined to see you happy before I relinquish the business I have undertaken: letters are a precarious mode of communication; I will make a journey to Connecticut, find out Alonzo, visit your friends, and see how the plan operates. Iam known to your father, who has ever treated me as a relative.I will return as speedily as possible, and we shall then know what measures are best next to pursue.”
“I requested him to unfold the deception to my mother, and, if he found it expedient, to Vincent and Mr. Simpson, in whose friendship and fidelity I was sure he might safely confide.
“He soon departed, and returned in about two months. He found my father and mother in extreme distress on account of my supposed death: my mother’s grief had brought her ontothe bed of sickness; but when Alfred had undeceived her she rapidly revived. My father told Alfred that he seriously regretted opposing my inclinations, and that, were it possible he could retrace the steps he had taken, he should conduct in a very different manner, as he was not only deprived ofme, but Edgar also, who had gone to Holland in an official capacity, soon after receiving the tidings of my death. “I am now childless,” said my father in tears. Alfred’s feelings were moved, and could he then have found you, he would have told my father the truth; but lest he should relapse from present determinations, he considered it his duty still with him, to continue the deception.
“On enquiring at your father’s, at Vincent’s, and atMr.Simpson’s, he could learn nothing of you, except that you had gonein search of me. Vincent conjectured that you had goneto New London, judging possibly that you would find me there. Alfred therefore determined to proceed to that place immediately. He thenconfidentiallyunfolded to your father, Vincent, and Mr. Simpson, the scheme, desiring that if you returned you would proceed immediately to Charleston. My father was still to be kept in ignorance.
“Alfred proceeded immediately to New London: from my cousin there he was informed of your interview with him; but from whence you then came,orwhere you went, he knew not; and after making the strictest enquiry, he could hear nothing more of you. By a vessel in that port, bound directly for Holland, he wrote an account of the whole affair to Edgar, mentioning his unsuccessful search to find you; and returned to Charleston.
“Alfred learnt from my friends the circumstances which occasioned my sudden removal from the old mansion. The morning you left me you was discovered by my aunt, who was passing the road in a chair with a gentleman, whom she had then but recently become acquainted with. My auntknewyou. They immediately droveto John’s hut. On finding that John had left the keys with me, she sent him for them; and on my refusing to give them up, she came herself, as I have before related; and as she succeeded no better than John, shereturned anddispatched a message to my father,informinghim of the circumstances, and her suspicions of your having been to the mansion, and that, from my having possession of the keys and refusing to yield them up, there was little doubt but that we had formed a plan for my escape.
“Alarmed at this information, my father immediately ordered his carriage, drove to the mansion, and removed me, as I have before informed you.
“I ought to have told you, that the maid and man servant who attended me to Charleston, not liking the country, and growing sickly, were sent back by my uncle, after they had been there about two months.”
Alonzo found by thisnarrativethat John had deceived him, when he made his enquiries of him concerning his knowledge of Melissa’s removal. But this was not surprising: John was tenant to Melissa’s aunt, and subservient to all her views;—she had undoubtedly given himinstructionshow to act.
“But who was the strange gentlemanwith your aunt?” enquired Alonzo. “This I will also tell you, answered Melissa,tho’it unfolds a tale which reflects no great honour to my family.
“Hamblin was the name which this man assumed: he said he had been an eminent merchant in New York, and had left it about the time it was taken by the British. He lodged at an inn where my aunt frequently stopped when she was out collecting her rents, where he first introduced himself to her acquaintance, and ingratiated himself into her favour by art and insidiousness. He accompanied her on her visits to her tenants, and assisted her in collecting her rents. He told her, that when the war came on, he had turned his effects into money, which he had with him, and was now in pursuit of some country place where he might purchase a residence to remain during the war. To cut the story as short as possible, hefinallyinitiated himself so far in my aunt’s favour that she accepted his hand, and, contrary to my father’s opinion, she married him, and he soon after persuaded her to sell her property, under pretence of removing to some populous town, and living in style. Her property, however, was no sooner sold (which my father bought for ready cash, at a lowprice) than he found means to realize the money, and absconded.
“It was afterwards foundoutthat his real name was Brenton; that he hadlefta wife and family in Virginia in indigent circumstances, where he had spent an ample fortune, left him by his father, in debauchery, and involved himself deeply in debt. He had scarcely time to get off with the booty he swindled from my aunt, when his creditors from Virginia were at his heels. He fled to the British at New York, where he rioted for a few months, was finally stabbed by a soldier in a fracas, and died the next day. He was about thirty-five years old.
“All these troubles bore so heavily upon my aunt, that she went into a decline, and died about six months ago.
“After Alfred returned from Connecticut, he wrote frequently to Vincent and Mr. Simpson, but could obtain no intelligence concerning you. It would be needless, Alonzo, to describe my conjectures, my anxieties, my feelings! The death of my cousin and aunt had kept me in crapeuntil, at the instance of Alfred, I put it off yesterday morning at my uncle’s housein town, which Alfred had proposed for the scene of action, after he had discovered the cause of my fainting at the theatre. I did not readilycome into Alfred’s plan to deceive you: “Suffer me, he said, to try the constancy of yourLeander;——I doubt whether he would swim the Hellespont for you.“This aroused my pride and confidence, and I permitted him to proceed.”
Alonzo then gaveMelissaa minute account of all thathadhappened to him from the time of their parting at the old mansion until he met with her the day before. At the mention of Beauman’s fate Melissa sighed. “With how many vain fears, said she, was I perplexed, lest, by some means he should discover my existence and place of residence, after he, alas, was silent in the tomb!”
Alonzo told Melissa that he had received a letter from Edgar, after he arrived in Holland, and that he had written him an answer, just as he left Paris, informing him of his reasons for returning to America.
When the time arrived that Alonzo and Melissa were to set out for Connecticut, Melissa’s uncle and Alfred accompanied them as far as Georgetown, where an affectionate parting took place: The latter returned to Charleston, and the former proceeded on their journey.
Philadelphia was now in possession of the British troops. Alonzo foundDr.Franklin’s agent at Chester, transacted his business,went on, arrived at Vincent’s where he left Melissa, and proceeded immediately to his father’s.
The friends of Alonzo and Melissa were joyfully surprised at their arrival. Melissa’s mother was sent for to Vincent’s. Let imagination paint the meeting! As yet however they were not prepared toundeceiveher father.
Alonzo found his parents in penurious circumstances; indeed, his father having the preceeding summer, been too indisposed to manage his little farm with attention, and being unable to hire laborers, hiscropshadyieldedbut a scanty supply, and he had been compelled to sell most of his stock to answer pressing demands. With great joy they welcomed Alonzo,whom they had given up as lost. “You still find your father poor, Alonzo, said the old gentleman, but you find him still honest.—From my inability to labour, we have latterly been a little more pressed than usual; but having now recovered my health, I trustthatthat difficulty will soon be removed.”
Alonzo asked his father if heever knewDr.Franklin.
“We were school-mates, he replied,and were intimately acquainted after we became young men in business for ourselves.We have done each other favours; I once divided my money with Franklin on an urgent occasion to him; he afterwards repaid me with ample interest—he will never forget it.”
Alonzo then related to his father all the incidents of his travels, minutely particularizing the disinterested conduct of Franklin, and then presented his father with the reversion of his estate. The old man fell on his knees, and with tears streaming down his withered cheeks, offered devout thanks to the great Dispenser of all mercies.
Alonzo then visited Melissa’s father, who received him with much complacency. “I have injured, said he, my young friend, deeply injured you; but in doing this, I have inflicted a wound still deeperinmy own bosom.”
Alonzo desired him not to renew his sorrows. “What is past, said he, is beyond recal; but a subject of some importance to me, is the object of my present visit.—True it is, that your daughter was theobjectof my earliest affection—an affection which my bosom must ever retain;but being separated by the will of Providence—for I view Providence as overruling all events for wise purposes—I betook myself to travel. Time, you know it is said, sir, will blunt the sharpest thorns of sorrow.—[Theold man sighed.]——In my travels I have found a lady so nearly resembling your daughter, that I was induced to sue for her hand, and have been so happy as to gain the promise of it. The favour I have to ask of you, sir, is only that you will permit the marriage ceremony to be celebrated in your house, as you know my father is poor, his house small and inconvenient, and that you will also honour me by giving the lady away. In receiving her from your hands, I shall in some measure realize formerhappyanticipations; I shall receive her in the character of Melissa.”
“Ah! said Melissa’s father, were it in my power—could Ibutgive you the original; But how vain that wish! Yes, my young friend, your request shall be punctually complied with: I will take upon myself the preparations. Name your day, and if the lady is portionless, in that she shall be to me a Melissa.”
Alonzo bowed hishead ingratitude; and after appointing that day week,hedeparted.
Invitations were once more sent abroad for the wedding of Alonzo and Melissa.—Few indeed knew it to be the real Melissa, but they were generally informed of Alonzo’sreasonsfor preferring the celebration at her father’s.
The evening before the day on which the marriage was to take place, Alonzo and Melissa were sitting with the Vincents in an upper room, when a person rappedatthe door below. Vincent went down, and immediately returned, introducing, to the joy and surprise of the company, Edgar!
Here, again, we shall leave it for the imagination to depict the scene of an affectionate brother, meeting a tender and only sister, whom he had long since supposed to be dead! He had been at his father’s, and his mother had let him into the secret, when he immediately hastened to Vincent’s. He told them that he did not stay long in Holland; that after receiving Alonzo’s letter from Paris, he felt an unconquerable propensity to return, and soon sailed for America, arrived at Boston, came to New-Haven, took orders in the ministry, and had reached home that day. He informed them that Mr. Simpson and family had arrived at his father’s, and some relatives whom his mother had invited.
The next morning ushered in the day in which the hero and heroine of our story were to consummate their felicity. Nocross purposesstood ready to intervene their happiness,no determined rival,no obdurate father, no watchful, scowling aunt, to interrupt their transports. It was the latter end of May; nature wasarrayed in her richest ornaments, and adorned with her sweetest perfumes. The sunblendedits mild lustre with thelandscape’slovely green; silk-winged breezes frolicked amidst the flowers; the spring birdscarolledin varying strains:
“The air was fragrance, and the world was love.”
Evening was appointed for the ceremony, and Edgar was to be the officiating clergyman.
“To tie those bands which nought but death can sever.”
When the hour arrived, they repaired to the house of Melissa’s father, where numerous guests had assembled. Melissa was introduced into the bridal apartment, and took her seat among a brilliant circle of ladies. She was attired in robes “white as the southern clouds,” spangled with silver, and trimmed with deep gold lace; her hair hung loosely upon her shoulders, encircled by a wreath ofartificialflowers. She had regained all her former loveliness; the rose and the lily again blended their tinges in her cheek; againpensive sprightlinesssparkled in her eye.
Alonzo was now introduced, and took his seat at the side of Melissa. His father and mother came next, who were placed at the right hand of the young couple: Melissa’sparents followed, and were stationed at the left. Edgar then came and took his seat in front; after which the guests were summoned, who filled the room. Edgar then rising,motionedto the intended bride and bridegroom to rise also. He next turned to Alonzo’s father for his sanction, who bowed assent. Then addressing his own father, with emotions that scarcely suffered him to articulate. “Do you, sir, said he, give this lady to that gentleman?” A solemn silence prevailed in the room. Melissa was extremely agitated, as her father slowly rising, and with down-cast eyes,
“Where tides of heavysorrowswell’d,”
took her trembling hand, and conveying it into Alonzo’s, “May the smiles of heaven rest upon you, he said; may future blessings crown your present happy prospects; and may your latter days never be embittered by the premature loss of near and dear——”
Pungent grief here choaked his utterance, and at this moment Melissa, falling upon her knees, “Dear father! she exclaimed, bursting into tears, pardon deception; acknowledge your daughter—your own Melissa!”
Her father started—he gazed at her with scrutinizing attention, and sunk back in hischair.—“My daughter! he cried—God of mysterious mercy! it is my daughter!”
The guests caught the contagious sympathy; convulsive sobs arose from all parts of the room. Melissa’s father clasped her in his arms—“AnddoI receive theeasfrom the dead! he said. I am anxious to hear themightymystery unfolded. But first let the solemn rites for which we are assembled be concluded; let not an old man’s anxiety interrupt the ceremony.”
“But you are apprised, sir, said Alonzo, of my inability to support your daughter according to her deserts.”
“Leave that to me, my young friend, replied her father. I have enough: my children are restored, and I am happy.”
Melissa soon resumed her former station. The indissoluble knot was tied: they sat down to the wedding feast, and mirth and hilarity danced in cheerful circles.
Before the company retired, Edgar related the most prominent incidents of Alonzo and Melissa’s history, since they had been absent. The guests listened with attention: they applauded the conduct of our new bride and bridegroom, in which Melissa’s father cordially joined. They rejoiced to find that Alonzo’s father had regained his fortune, and copious libations werepoured forth in honour of the immortal Franklin.
And now, reader of sensibility, indulge the pleasing sensations of thy bosom—for Alonzo and Melissa areMARRIED.
Alonzo’s father was soon in complete repossession of his former property. The premises from which he had been driven by his unfeeling creditors, were yielded up without difficulty, and to which he immediately removed. He not only recovered the principal of the fortune he had lost, but the damages and the interest; so that, although like Job, he had seenaffliction, like him his latter days were better than his beginning. But wearied with thebustlesof life, he did not again enter into the mercantile business, but placing his money at interest in safe hands, lived retired on his little farm.
A few days after the wedding, as Melissa was sitting with Alonzo, Edgar and her parents, she asked her father whether the old mansion was inhabited.
“Not by human beings, he replied.——Since it has fallen into my hands I have leased it to three or four different families, who allsoonleft it underthefoolish pretence or impression of hearing noises and seeing frightful objects, and such is the superstition ofthepeople that no one now, willventure to try it again, though I suppose its inhabitants to consist only of rats and mice.”
Melissa then informed them of all that had happened when she was there, the alarming noises and horrible appearances she had been witness to, and in which she was confident her senses had not deceived her. Exceedingly astonished at her relation; it was agreed that Edgar and Alonzo, properly attended, should proceed to the mansion, in order to find whether any discoveries could be made which mighttendto the elucidation of so mysterious an affair.
For this purpose they chose twenty men, armed them with muskets and swords,and proceeded to the place, where they arrived in the dusk of the evening, having chosen that season as the most favourable to their designs.
They found the drawbridge up, and the gate locked, as Edgar’s father said he had left them. They entered and secured them in the same manner. When they came to the house, they cautiously unlocked the door, and proceeded to the chamber, where they struck a fire andlightedcandles, which theyhadbrought with them. It was then agreed to plant fifteen of the men at suitable distances around the mansion, andretain five in the chamber with Alonzo and Edgar.
The men, who were placed around the house, were stationed behind trees, stumps or rocks, and where noobjectpresented,theylay flat on the ground, with orders not to stir, ortodiscover themselves, let what would ensue, unless some alarm should be given from the house.
Alonzo and Edgar were armed with pistols and side arms, and posted themselves with the five men in the chamber, taking care that the lights should not shine against the window shutters, so that nothingcouldbe discovered from without. Things thus arranged, they observed almostanimplicit silence, no one being allowed to speak, except in a low whisper.
For a long time nosound washeard except the hollow roar ofthewinds in the neighbouring forest, their whistling around the angles of the mansion, or the hoarsemurmersof the distant surge. The night was dark, and only illuminated by the feeble twinkling of half clouded stars.
They had watched until about midnight, when they were alarmed by noises in the rooms below, among which they could distinguish footsteps and human voices. Alonzo and Edgar, then taking each a pistol in one hand, and a drawn sword in the other,ordered their men to follow them, prepared for action. Coming to the head of the stairs, they saw a brilliant light streaming into the hall; they therefore concluded to take no candles, and to prevent discoverytheytook off their shoes. When they came into the hall opposite the door of the room from whence the light and noises proceeded, they discovered ten men genteelly dressed, sitting around a table, on which was placed a considerable quantity of gold and silver coin, a number of glasses and several decanters of wine. Alonzo and his party stood a few minutes, listening to the following discourse, which took place among thisghostlygentry.
“Well, boys, we have made a fine haul this trip.”——“Yes, but poor Bob, though, was plump’d over by the d——d skulkers!”——“Aye, and had we not tugged bravely at the oars, they would have hook’d us.”——“Rascallycow-boys detained us too long.”——“Well,well,never mind it; let us knock around the wine, and then divide the spoil.”
At this moment, Alonzo and Edgar, followed by the five men, rushed into the room, crying. “Surrender, or you are all dead men!” In an instant the room was involved in pitchy darkness; a loud crash was heard, then a scampering about the floor, and a noise as if several doors shutto, with violence. They however gave thealarmto the men without, by loudly shouting “Look out;” and immediately the discharge of several guns was heard around the mansion. One of the men flew up stairs and brought a light; but, to their utter amazement, no person was to be discovered in the room except their own party. The table, with its apparatus, and the chairs on which these now invisible beings had sat, hadalldisappeared, not a single trace of them being left.
While they stood petrified with astonishment, the men from without called for admittance. The door being unlocked, they led in a stranger wounded, whom they immediately discovered to be one of those they had seen at the table.
The men who had been stationed around the mansion informed, that some time before the alarm was made, they saw a number of persons crossing the yard from the western part of the enclosure, towards the house; that immediately after the shout was given, they discovered several people running back in the same direction: they hailed them, which being disregarded, they fired upon them, one of whom they brought down, which was the wounded man they had brought in. The others, though they pursuedthem,got off.
The prisoner’s wound was not dangerous, the ball had shattered his arm, and glanced upon his breast. They dressed his wound as well as they could, and then requested him to unfold the circumstances of the suspicious appearance in which he was involved.
“First promise me, on your honour, said the stranger, that you will use your influence to prevent my being punished or imprisoned.”
This they readily agreed to, on condition that he would conceal nothing from them—and he gave them the following relation:
That they wereapart of a gang ofillicit traders; men who had combined for the purpose of carrying on a secret and illegal commerce with the British army on Long Island, whom, contrary to the existing laws, they supplied with provisions, and brought off English goods, which they sold atvery extortionate prices. But this was not all; they also brought over large quantities of counterfeit continental money, which they put off among theAmericansfor live stock, poultry, produce, &c. which they carried to the Island. The counterfeit money they purchased by merely paying for the printing; the British having obtained copies of the American emission, struckimmensequantitiesof it in New-York, and insidiously sent it out into the country, in order to sink our currency.
This gang was likewise connected with the cow-boys, who made it their business to steal, not only milch cows, and other cattle, but also hogs and sheep, which they drove by night to some convenient place on the shores of the Sound, where thesethief-partnersreceived them, and conveyed them to the British.
“In our excursions across the Sound, continued the wounded man, we had frequently observed this mansion, which, from every appearance, we were convinced was uninhabited:—we therefore selected it as a suitable place for our future rendezvous, which hadthereforebeen only in the open woods. To cross the moat, we dragged up an old canoe from the sea shore, which we concealed in the bushes as soon as we recrossed from theoldmansion. To get over the wall we used ladders of ropes, placing a flatpieceof thick board on the top of the spikes driven into the wall. We found more difficulty in getting into the house:—we however at length succeeded, by tearing away a part of the back wall, where we fitted in a door so exactly, and so nicely painted it, that it could not be distinguished from the wall itself. This door was soconstructed, that on touching a spring, it wouldsuddenlyfly open, and when unrestrained, would shuttowith violence. Finding the apartment so eligible for our purpose, and fearing that at some future time we might be disturbed either by the owner of the building or some tenant, we cut similar doors into every room of the house, so that onanemergency we could traverse every apartment without access to the known doors. Trap-doors on a similar construction, communicated with the cellar:—the table, which you saw us sitting around, stood on one ofthose, which, on your abrupt appearance, as soon as the candles were extinguished, was with its contents, precipitated below, and we made our escape by those secret doors, judging, that although you had seen us, if we could get off, you would be unable to find out any thing which might lead to our discovery.