The Maid of Maiden Lane by Amelia E. Barr (adventure books to read TXT) 📖

our city a sink of political vice. Mr. Wolcott says honesty is the fashion in New York. Some of the clergy think Wall Street as wicked as the most fashionable streets in Tyre and Sodom; and the street-singers—thanks to Mr. Freneau—have each, and all, their little audiences on the subject. As I came up Broadway, a man was shouting a rhyme advising the Philadelphians to ‘get ready their dishcloths and brooms, and begin scouring their knockers, and scrubbing their rooms.’ Perhaps the most sensible thing on the subject came from one of the New England senators. He thought the seat of government ought to be ‘in some wilderness, where there would be no social attractions, where members could go and attend strictly to business.’ Upon my word, sir, the opinions are endless in number and variety; but, in truth, Mr. Hamilton and Mr. Morris are arranging the matter. This is without doubt. There is to be some sort of compromise with the Southern senators, who are promised the capital on the Potomac, finally, if they no longer oppose the assumption of the State debts. I hear that Mr. Jefferson has been brought to agree to this understanding. And Mr. Morris doubtless thinks, if the government offices are once opened in Philadelphia, they will remain there.”

“And Joris, the ladies? What say they on the subject?” asked Mrs. Hyde.

“Indeed, mother, some of them are lamenting, and some looking forward to the change. All are talking of the social deposition of the beautiful Mrs. Bingham. ‘She will have to abate herself a little before Mrs. Washington,’ I heard one lady say; while others declare, that her association with our Republican Court will be harmonious and advantageous; especially, as she is beloved in the home of the President.”

“OUR REPUBLICAN COURT! The definition is absurd!” said General Hyde, with both scorn and temper. “A court pre-supposes both royalty and nobility!”

“We have both of them intrinsically, father.”

“In faith, George! you will find, that intrinsic qualities have no social value. What people require is their external evidence.”

“And their external evidence would be extremely offensive here, sir. For my part, I think, the sneaking hankering after titles and ceremonies, among our wealthy men and women is a very great weakness. Every one knows that nothing would please fussy Mr. Adams better than to be a duke, or even a lord—and he is by no means alone in such desires.”

“They may be yet realized.”

“They will not, sir—not, at least, while Thomas Jefferson lives. He is the bulldog of Democracy, and he would be at the throat of any such pretences as soon as they were suggested.”

“Very well, George! I have no objections.”

“I knew, sir, that you were a thorough Democrat.”

“Do not go too far, George. I love Democracy; but I hate Democrats! Now I am sleepy, and as Mr. Jefferson is on the watch, I may go to sleep comfortably. I will talk to you more on these subjects in the morning. Good-night!” He put his hand on his son’s shoulder, and looked with a proud confidence into the bright face, lifted to the touch.

Then George was alone with his mother; but she was full of little household affairs; and he could not bring into them a subject so close, and so sacred to his heart. He listened a little wearily to her plans, and was glad when she recollected the late hour and hurried him away to his chamber—a large, lofty room in the front of the house, on which she had realized all the ideas that her great love, and her really exquisite taste suggested. He entered it with a sense of delight, and readily surrendered himself to its dreamy air of sleep and rest. “I will speak to my mother in the morning,” he thought. “To-night, her mind is full of other things.”

But in the morning Mrs. Hyde was still more interested in “other things.” She had an architect with her, her servants were to order, her house to look after; and George readily felt that his hour was certainly not in the early morning. He had slept a little late, and his mother did not approve of sleep beyond the normal hour. He saw that he had delayed household matters, and made an environment not quite harmonious. So he ate his breakfast rapidly, and went out to the new stables. He expected to find the General there, and he was not disappointed. He had, however, finished his inspection of the horses, and he proposed a walk to the upper end of the Glen, where a great pond was being dug for Mrs. Hyde’s swans, and other aquatic birds.

There was much to interest them as they walked: men were busy draining, and building stone walls; ploughing and sowing, and digging, and planting. Yet, in the midst of all this busy life, George detected in his father’s manner an air of melancholy. He looked into his son’s face with affection, and pointed out to him with an apparent interest, the improvements in progress, but George knew—though he could not have explained why he knew—that his father’s heart was not really in these things. Presently he asked, “How goes it with your law books, George?”

“Faith, sir, I must confess, very indifferently. I have no senses that way; and ‘tis only your desire that keeps my books open. I would far rather read my Plutarch, or write with my sword.”

“Let me tell you, soberly, that it is a matter of personal interest to you. There is now no question of the law as a profession, for since your cousin’s death your prospects have entirely changed. But consider, George, that not only this estate, but also the estate of your Grandfather Van Heemskirk must eventually come to you. Much of both has been bought from confiscated properties, and it is not improbable that claimants may arise who will cause you trouble. How necessary, then, that you should know something of the laws affecting land and property in this country.”

“My grandfather is in trouble. I forgot to tell you last night, that his friend, Elder Semple, is dead.”

“Dead!”

“Yes, sir.”

For a few minutes General Hyde remained silent; then he said with much feeling, “Peace to the old Tory! He was once very kind to me and to my family. Ah, George, I have again defrauded myself of a satisfaction! For a long time I have intended to go and see him—it is now too late! But I will return to the city with you and pay him the last respect possible. Who told you this news?”

“I was walking on Broadway with young McAllister, and Doctor Moran stopped us and sent word to Elder McAllister of the death of his friend. I think, indeed, they were relatives.”

“Was Doctor Moran his physician?”

“Yes, sir. A very good physician, I believe; I know, that he is a very courteous and entertaining gentleman.”

“And pray, George, how do you come by such an opinion?”

“I had the honour of spending an evening at Doctor Moran’s house this week; and if you will believe me, sir, he has a daughter that shames every other beauty. Such bewildering loveliness! Such entrancing freshness and purity I never saw before!”

“In love again, George. Faith, you make me ashamed of