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Alonzo and Melissa; Or, The Unfeeling Father: An American Tale

Page 24

by Daniel Jackson and I. Mitchell

ifyou are on the earth;--but now, I can only be a companion to mymiseries."

  The next morning as they were about to depart, Alonzo took Melissa'sminiature from his bosom, contemplated the picture a few moments withardent emotion, and presented it to Edgar. "Keep it, said Edgar, it isthine. I bestow it upon thee as I would the original, had not deathbecome the rival of thy love, and my affection.--Suffer not the sacredsymbol too tenderly to renew your sorrows. How swiftly, Alonzo, doesthis restless life fleet away!--How soon shall we pass the barriers ofterrestrial existence! Let us live worthy of ourselves, of our holyreligion, of Melissa--Melissa, whom, when a few more suns have arisenand set, we shall meet in regions where all tears shall be eternallywiped from every eye."

  With what unspeakable sensibilities was it returned to Alonzo's bosom!Edgar offered Alonzo pecuniary assistance, which the latter refused:"I am in business, said he, which brings me a decent support, and thatis sufficient." They agreed to write each other as frequently aspossible, and then affectionately parted: Edgar sailed for Holland,and Alonzo returned to his business at Mr. Grafton's.

  Some time after this Alonzo received a message from Dr. Franklin,requiring his attendance at his house, which summons he immediatelyobeyed. The doctor introduced him into his study, and after beingseated, he earnestly viewed Alonzo for some time, and thus addressedhim:

  "Young man, your views, your resolutions, and your present conduct, aretotally wrong. Disappointment, you say, has driven you from your nativecountry. Disappointment in what? In obtaining the object on which youmost doated. And suppose this object had been obtained, would yourhappiness have been complete? Your own reason, if you coolly consult it,will convince you of the contrary. Do you not remember when an infant,how you cried, and teazed your nurse, or your parents, for a rattle, orsome gay trinket?--Your whole soul was fixed upon the enchanting bauble;but when obtained, you soon cast it away, and sighed as earnestly forsome other trifle, some new toy. Thus it is through life; the fanciedvalue of an object ceases with the attainment; it becomes familiar, andits charm is lost.

  "Was it the splendours of beauty which enraptured you? Sickness may, andage must destroy the symmetry of the most finished form--the brilliancyof the finest features. Was it the graces of the mind? I tell you, thatby familiarity, these allurements are lost, and the mind, left vacant,turns to some other source to supply _vacuum_.

  "Stripped of all their intrinsic value, how poor, how vain, and howworthless, are those things we name pleasures, and enjoyments.

  "Besides, the attainment of your wishes might have been the death ofyour hopes. If my reasoning is correct, the ardency of your passionmight have closed with the pursuit. An every day suit, however rich andcostly the texture, is soon worn threadbare. On your part, indifferencewould consequently succeed: on the part of your partner, disappointment,jealousy, and disgust. What might follow is needless for me toname;--your soul must shudder at the idea of conjugal infidelity!

  "But admitting the most favourable consequences; turn the brightest sideof the picture; admitting as much happiness as the connubial state willallow: how might your bosom have been wounded by the sickness and deathof your children, or their disorderly and disobedient conduct! You mustknow also, that the warmth of youthful passion must soon cease, and itis merely a hazardous chance whether friendship will supply the absenceof affection.

  "After all, my young friend, it will be well for you to consider,whether the all-wise dispensing hand of Providence, has not directedthis matter which you esteem so great an affliction, for your greatestgood, and most essential advantage. And suffer me to tell you, that inall my observations on life, I have always found that those connectionswhich were formed from inordinate passion, or what some would call pureaffection, have been ever the most unhappy. Examine the varied circlesof society, you will there see this axiom demonstrated; you will theresee how few among the sentimentally refined are even apparently at ease;while those, insusceptible of what you name tender attachments, or whoreceive them only as things of course, plod on through life, withouteven experiencing the least inconvenience from a want of the pleasuresthey are _supposed_ to bestow, or the pains they are sure to create.Beware, then, my son, beware of yielding the heart to the effeminaciesof passion. Exquisite sensibilities are ever subject to exquisiteinquietudes. Counsel with correct reason, place entire dependence on theSUPREME, and the triumph of fortitude and resignation will be yours."

  Franklin paused. His reasonings, however they convinced theunderstanding, could not heal the wounds of Alonzo's bosom.--In Melissahe looked for as much happiness as earth could afford, nor could he seeany prospect in life which could repair the loss he had sustained.

  "You have, resumed the philosopher, deserted an indulgent father, a fondand tender mother, who must want your aid; now, perhaps, unable to toilfor bread; now, possibly laid upon the bed of sickness, calling, inanguish or delirium, for the filial hand of their only son to administerrelief."----All the parental feelings of Alonzo were now called intopoignant action.----"You have left a country, bleeding at every pore,desolated by the ravages of war, wrecked by the thunders of battle, herheroes slain, her children captured. This country asks--she demands--youowe her your services: God and nature call upon you to defend her, whilehere you bury yourself in inglorious inactivity, pining for a haplessobject, which, by all your lamentations, you can never bring back to theregions of mortality."

  This aroused the patriotic flame in the bosom of Alonzo; and hevoluntarily exclaimed, "I will go to the relief of my parents--I willfly to the defence of my country!"

  "In former days, continued Franklin, I was well acquainted with yourfather. As soon as you informed me of his failure, I wrote to mycorrespondent in England, and found, as I expected, that he had beenoverreached by swindlers and sharpers.----The pretended failure of themerchants with whom he was in company, was all a sham, as, also thereported loss of the ships in their employ. The merchants fled toEngland: I have had them arrested, and they have given up their effectsto much more than the amount of their debts. I have therefore procured areversion of your father's losses, which, with costs, damages, andinterests, when legally stated, he will receive of my agent inPhiladelphia, to whom I shall transmit sufficient documents by you, andI shall advance you a sum equal to the expenses of your voyage, whichwill be liquidated by the said agent. A ship sails in a few days fromHavre, for Savannah in Georgia: it would, indeed, be more convenientwere she bound to some more northern port, but I know of no other whichwill sail for any part of America for some time. In her therefore Iwould advise you to take passage: it is not very material on what partof the continent you are landed; you will soon reach Philadelphia,transact your business, restore your father to his property, and beready to serve your country."

  If any thing could have given Alonzo consolation, it must have been thisnoble, generous and disinterested conduct of the great Franklin infavour of his father, by which his family were restored to ease and toindependence. Ah! had this but have happened in time to save a life fardearer than his own! The reflection was too painful. The idea, however,of giving joy to his aged parents, hastened his departure. Furnishedwith proper documents and credentials from Franklin, his benefactor, hetook leave of him, with the warmest expressions of gratitude, as also ofMr. Grafton, and sailed for Savannah, where he arrived in about eightweeks.

  Intent on his purpose, he immediately purchased a carriage and proceededon for Philadelphia. As he approached Charleston, his bosom swelled withmournful recollections. He arrived in that city in the afternoon, and atevening he walked out, and entered a little ale house, which stood nearthe large burial ground. An elderly woman and two small children werethe only persons in the house, except himself. After calling for a pintof ale, he enquired of the old lady, if Col. D----, (Melissa's uncle)did not live near the city. She informed him that he resided about amile from the town, where he had an elegant seat, and that he was veryrich.

  "Was there not a young lady, asked Alonzo, who died there about eight
eenmonths ago?"

  "La me! said she, did you know her? Yes: and a sweeter or more handsomelady the sun never shined on. And then she was so good, so patient inher sickness.--Poor, dear distressed girl, she pined away to skin andbones before she died. She was not Col. D----'s daughter, only somehowrelated: she came here in hopes that a change of air might do her good.She came from--la me! I cannot think of the name of the place;--it is acrabbed name though."

  "Connecticut, was it not?" said Alonzo.

  "O yes, that was it, replied she. Dear me! then you knew her, did you,sir?--Well, we have not her like left in Charleston; that we han't;--andthen there was such ado at her funeral; five hundred people, I dare say,with eight young ladies for pall-bearers, all dressed in white, withblack ribbons, and all the bells tolling."

  "Where was she buried?"

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