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

BECOMING AMERICA
REVOLUTIONARY AND EARLY NATIONAL PERIOD LITERATURE
distant reserve of her manners and the pensiveness of her countenance convinced
me that she had been vexed, and I doubted not but Peter Sanford was the occasion.
Her wise cousin, I could have sworn, had been giving her a detail of the vices of
her gallant, and warning her against the dangers of associating with him in future.
Notwithstanding, I took no notice of any alteration in her behavior, but entered
with the utmost facetiousness into a conversation which I thought most to her
taste. By degrees she assumed her usual vivacity; cheerfulness and good humor
again animated her countenance. I tarried as long as decency would admit. She
having intimated that they were to dine at my friend Lawrence’s, I caught at this
information, and determined to follow them, and tease the jealous Mrs. Richman
by playing o all the gallantry I was master of in her presence.
I went, and succeeded to the utmost of my wishes, as I read in the vexation
visible in the one, and the ease and attention displayed by the other. I believe, too,
that I have charmed the eye, at least, of the amiable Eliza. Indeed, Charles, she is
a ne girl. I think it would hurt my conscience to wound her mind or reputation.
Were I disposed to marry, I am persuaded she would make an excellent wife;
but that, you know, is no part of my plan, so long as I can keep out of the noose.
Whenever I do submit to be shackled, it must be from a necessity of mending my
fortune. This girl would be far from doing that. However, I am pleased with her
acquaintance, and mean not to abuse her credulity and good nature, if I can help it.
PETER SANFORD.
Letter XII
TO MISS LUCY FREEMAN.
NEW HAVEN.
The heart of your friend is again besieged. Whether it will surrender to the
assailants or not I am unable at present to determine. Sometimes I think of
becoming a predestinarian, and submitting implicitly to fate, without any exercise
of free will; but, as mine seems to be a wayward one, I would counteract the
operations of it, if possible.
Mrs. Richman told me this morning that she hoped I should be as agreeably
entertained this afternoon as I had been the preceding; that she expected Mr. Boyer
to dine and take tea, and doubted not but he would be as attentive and sincere to
me, if not as gay and polite, as the gentleman who obtruded his civilities yesterday.
I replied that I had no reason to doubt the sincerity of the one or the other, having
never put them to the test, nor did I imagine I ever should. “Your friends, Eliza,”
said she, “would be very happy to see you united to a man of Mr. Boyer’s worth,
and so agreeably settled as he has a prospect of being.” “I hope,” said I, “that my
friends are not so weary of my company as to wish to dispose of me. I am too happy
in my present connections to quit them for new ones. Marriage is the tomb of
friendship. It appears to me a very selsh state. Why do people in general, as soon
as they are married, centre all their cares, their concerns, and pleasures in their
own families? Former acquaintances are neglected or forgotten; the tenderest ties
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