Becoming America - An Exploration of American Literature from Precolonial to Post-Revolution, 2018a

BECOMING AMERICA
REVOLUTIONARY AND EARLY NATIONAL PERIOD LITERATURE
repulse and do not intend to encourage at present. His conversation, so similar to
what I had often heard from a similar character, brought a deceased friend to mind,
and rendered me somewhat pensive. I retired directly after supper. Mr. Boyer had
just taken leave.
Mrs. Richman came into my chamber as she was passing to her own. “Excuse
my intrusion, Eliza,” said she. “I thought I would just step in and ask you if you
have passed a pleasant day.”
“Perfectly so, madam; and I have now retired to protract the enjoyment by
recollection.” “What, my dear, is your opinion of our favorite, Mr. Boyer?” “Declaring
him your favorite, madam, is sucient to render me partial to him; but to be frank,
independent of that, I think him an agreeable man.” “Your heart, I presume, is now
free.” “Yes, and I hope it will long remain so.” “Your friends, my dear, solicitous for
your welfare, wish to see you suitably and agreeably connected.” “I hope my friends
will never again interpose in my concerns of that nature. You, madam, who have
ever known my heart, are sensible that, had the Almighty spared life in a certain
instance, I must have sacriced my own happiness or incurred their censure. I
am young, gay, volatile. A melancholy event has lately extricated me from those
shackles which parental authority had imposed on my mind. Let me, then, enjoy
that freedom which I so highly prize. Let me have opportunity, unbiased by opinion,
to gratify my natural disposition in a participation of those pleasures which youth
and innocence aord.” “Of such pleasures, no one, my dear, would wish to deprive
you; but beware, Eliza! Though strewed with owers, when contemplated by your
lively imagination, it is, after all, a slippery, thorny path. The round of fashionable
dissipation is dangerous. A phantom is often pursued, which leaves its deluded
votary the real form of wretchedness.” She spoke with an emphasis, and, taking
up her candle, wished me a good night. I had not power to return the compliment.
Something seemingly prophetic in her looks and expressions cast a momentary
gloom upon my mind; but I despise those contracted ideas which conne virtue
to a cell. I have no notion of becoming a recluse. Mrs. Richman has ever been a
beloved friend of mine; yet I always thought her rather prudish. Adieu.
ELIZA WHARTON.
Letter VI
TO THE SAME.
NEW HAVEN.
I had scarcely seated myself at the breakfast table this morning when a servant
entered with a card of invitation from Major Sanford, requesting the happiness
of my hand this evening at a ball given by Mr. Atkins, about three miles from
this. I showed the billet to Mrs. Richman, saying, “I have not much acquaintance
with this gentleman, madam; but I suppose his character suciently respectable
to warrant an armative answer.” “He is a gay man, my dear, to say no more;
and such are the companions we wish when we join a party avowedly formed for
pleasure.” I then stepped into my apartment, wrote an answer, and despatched
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