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

BECOMING AMERICA
REVOLUTIONARY AND EARLY NATIONAL PERIOD LITERATURE
the servant. When I returned to the parlor, something disapprobating appeared in
the countenances of both my friends. I endeavored, without seeming to observe,
to dissipate it by chitchat; but they were better pleased with each other than with
me, and, soon rising, walked into the garden, and left me to amuse myself alone.
My eyes followed them through the window. “Happy pair!” said I. “Should it ever
be my fate to wear the hymeneal chain, may I be thus united! The purest and most
ardent aection, the greatest consonance of taste and disposition, and the most
congenial virtue and wishes distinguish this lovely couple. Health and wealth,
with every attendant blessing, preside over their favored dwelling, and shed their
benign inuence without alloy.” The consciousness of exciting their displeasure
gave me pain; but I consoled myself with the idea that it was ill founded.
“They should consider,” said I, “that they have no satisfaction to look for
beyond each other; there every enjoyment is centred; but I am a poor solitary
being, who need some amusement beyond what I can supply myself. The mind,
after being conned at home for a while, sends the imagination abroad in quest of
new treasures; and the body may as well accompany it, for aught I can see.”
General Richman and lady have ever appeared solicitous to promote my
happiness since I have resided with them. They have urged my acceptance of
invitations to join parties; though they have not been much themselves of late, as
Mrs. Richman’s present circumstances render her fond of retirement. What reason
can be assigned for their apparent reluctance to this evening’s entertainment is
to me incomprehensible; but I shall apply the chemical powers of friendship, and
extract the secret from Mrs. Richman to-morrow, if not before. Adieu. I am now
summoned to dinner, and after that shall be engaged in preparation till the wishedfor
hour of hilarity and mirth engrosses every faculty of your
ELIZA WHARTON.
Letter VII
TO MR. SELBY.
NEW HAVEN.
Divines need not declaim, nor philosophers expatiate, on the disappointments
of human life. Are they not legibly written on every page of our existence? Are they
not predominantly prevalent over every period of our lives?
When I closed my last letter to you, my heart exulted in the pleasing
anticipation of promised bliss; my wishes danced on the light breezes of hope;
and my imagination dared to arrest the attention of, and even claim a return of
aection from, the lovely Eliza Wharton. But imagination only it has proved, and
that dashed with the bitter ranklings of jealousy and suspicion.
But to resume my narrative. I reached the mansion of my friend about four. I
was disagreeably struck with the appearance of a carriage at the door, as it raised
an idea of company which might frustrate my plan; but still more disagreeable
were my sensations when, on entering the parlor, I found Major Sanford evidently
in a waiting posture. I was very politely received; and when Eliza entered the room
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