Quaint Courtships , livre ebook

Pub One Info - Mills Alden Henry

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84 pages

English

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To the perverse all courtships probably are quaint; but if ever human nature may be allowed the full range of originality, it may very well be in the exciting and very personal moments of making love. Our own peculiar social structure, in which the sexes have so much innocent freedom, and youth is left almost entirely to its own devices in the arrangement of double happiness, is so favorable to the expression of character at these supreme moments, that it is wonderful there is so little which is idiosyncratic in our wooings. They tend rather to a type, very simple, very normal, and most people get married for the reason that they are in love, as if it were the most matter-of-course affair of life. They find the fact of being in love so entirely satisfying to the ideal, that they seek nothing adventitious from circumstance to heighten their tremendous consciousness.

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Short story

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Publié par	Pub One Info
Date de parution	23 octobre 2010
Nombre de lectures	0
EAN13	9782819909781
Langue	English

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Introduction
To the perverse all courtships probably are quaint;but if ever human nature may be allowed the full range oforiginality, it may very well be in the exciting and very personalmoments of making love. Our own peculiar social structure, in whichthe sexes have so much innocent freedom, and youth is left almostentirely to its own devices in the arrangement of double happiness,is so favorable to the expression of character at these suprememoments, that it is wonderful there is so little which isidiosyncratic in our wooings. They tend rather to a type, verysimple, very normal, and most people get married for the reasonthat they are in love, as if it were the most matter-of-courseaffair of life. They find the fact of being in love so entirelysatisfying to the ideal, that they seek nothing adventitious fromcircumstance to heighten their tremendous consciousness.
Yet, here and there people, even American people,are so placed that they take from the situation a color ofeccentricity, if they impart none to it, and the old, old story,which we all wish to have end well, zigzags to a fortunate closepast juts and angles of individuality which the heroes and heroineshave not willingly or wittingly thrown out. They would have chosento arrive smoothly and uneventfully at the goal, as by far thegreater majority do; and probably if they are aware of lookingquaint to others in their progress, they do not like it. But it isthis peculiar difference which renders them interesting andcharming to the spectator. If we all love a lover, as Emerson says,it is not because of his selfish happiness, but because of the oddand unexpected chances which for the time exalt him above ourexperience, and endear him to our eager sympathies. In life onecannot perhaps have too little romance in affairs of the heart, orin literature too much; and in either one may be as quaint as onepleases in such affairs without being ridiculous.
W.D.H.
AN ENCORE BY MARGARET DELAND
According to Old Chester, to be romantic was justone shade less reprehensible than to put on airs. Captain AlfredPrice, in all his seventy years, had never been guilty of airs, butcertainly he had something to answer for in the way of romance.
However, in the days when we children used to seehim pounding up the street from the post-office, reading, as hewalked, a newspaper held at arm's length in front of him, he wasfar enough from romance. He was seventy years old, he weighed overtwo hundred pounds, his big head was covered with a shock ofgrizzled red hair; his pleasures consisted in polishing his oldsextant and playing on a small mouth-harmonicon. As to his vices,it was no secret that he kept a fat black bottle in thechimney-closet in his own room; added to this, he swore strangeoaths about his grandmother's nightcap. "He used to blaspheme," hisdaughter-in-law said, "but I said, 'Not in my presence, if youplease!' So now he just says this foolish thing about a nightcap."Mrs. Drayton said that this reform would be one of the jewels inMrs. Cyrus Price's crown; and added that she prayed that some daythe Captain would give up tobacco and rum . "I am a poor,feeble creature," said Mrs. Drayton; "I cannot do much for myfellow men in active mission-work. But I give my prayers." However,neither Mrs. Drayton's prayers nor Mrs. Cyrus's active mission-workhad done more than mitigate the blasphemy; the "rum" (which wasgood Monongahela whiskey) was still on hand; and as for tobacco,except when sleeping, eating, playing on his harmonicon, or dozingthrough one of Dr. Lavendar's sermons, the Captain smoked everymoment, the ashes of his pipe or cigar falling unheeded on a vastand wrinkled expanse of waistcoat.
No; he was not a romantic object. But we girls,watching him stump past the schoolroom window to the post-office,used to whisper to each other, "Just think! he eloped ."
There was romance for you!
To be sure, the elopement had not quite come off,but, except for the very end, it was all as perfect as a story.Indeed, the failure at the end made it all the better: angryparents, broken hearts, – only, the worst of it was, the hearts didnot stay broken! He went and married somebody else; and so did she.You would have supposed she would have died. I am sure, in herplace, any one of us would have died. And yet, as Lydia Wrightsaid, "How could a young lady die for a young gentleman with ashesall over his waistcoat?"
However, when Alfred Price fell in love with MissLetty Morris, he was not indifferent to his waistcoat, nor did heweigh two hundred pounds. He was slender and ruddy-cheeked, withtossing red-brown curls. If he swore, it was not by his grandmothernor her nightcap; if he drank, it was hard cider (which can oftenaccomplish as much as "rum"); if he smoked, it was in secret,behind the stable. He wore a stock, and (on Sunday) a ruffledshirt; a high-waisted coat with two brass buttons behind, and verytight pantaloons. At that time he attended the Seminary for Youthsin Upper Chester. Upper Chester was then, as in our time, the seatof learning in the township, the Female Academy being there, too.Both were boarding-schools, but the young people came home to spendSunday; and their weekly returns, all together in the stage, wereresponsible for more than one Old Chester match.... "The air," saysMiss, sniffing genteelly as the coach jolts past the blossoming Mayorchards, "is most agreeably perfumed. And how fair is the prospectfrom this hilltop!" "Fair indeed!" responded her companion, staringboldly.
Miss bridles and bites her lip. " I was notobserving the landscape," the other explains, carefully.
In those days (Miss Letty was born in 1804, and waseighteen when she and the ruddy Alfred sat on the back seat of thecoach) – in those days the conversation of Old Chester youth wasmore elegant than in our time. We, who went to Miss Bailey'sschool, were sad degenerates in the way of manners and language; atleast so our elders told us. When Lydia Wright said, "Oh my, whatan awful snow-storm!" dear Miss Ellen was displeased. "Lydia," saidshe, "is there anything 'awe'-inspiring in this display of theelements?" "No, 'm," faltered poor Lydia. "Then," said Miss Bailey,gravely, "your statement that the storm is 'awful' is a falsehood.I do not suppose, my dear, that you intentionally told an untruth;it was an exaggeration. But an exaggeration, though not perhaps afalsehood, is unladylike, and should be avoided by persons ofrefinement." Just here the question arises: what would Miss Ellen(now in heaven) say if she could hear Lydia's Lydia, just home fromcollege, remark – But no: Miss Ellen's precepts shall protect thesepages.
But in the days when Letty Morris looked out of thecoach window, and young Alfred murmured that the prospect was fairindeed, conversation was perfectly correct. And it was stilldecorous even when it got beyond the coach period and reached apoint where Old Chester began to take notice. At first it was youngOld Chester which giggled. Later old Old Chester made somecomments; it was then that Alfred's mother mentioned the matter toAlfred's father. "He is young, and, of course, foolish," Mrs. Priceexplained. And Mr. Price said that though folly was incidental toAlfred's years, it must be checked. "Just check it," said Mr.Price.
Then Miss Letty's mother awoke to the situation, andsaid, "Fy, fy, Letitia."
So it was that these two young persons were plungedin grief. Oh, glorious grief of thwarted love! When they met now,they did not talk of the landscape. Their conversation, though nodoubt as genteel as before, was all of broken hearts. But againLetty's mother found out, and went in wrath to call on Alfred'sfamily. It was decided between them that the young man should besent away from home. "To save him," says the father. "To protect mydaughter," says Mrs. Morris.
But Alfred and Letty had something to say.... It wasin December; there was a snow-storm – a storm which Lydia Wrightwould certainly have called "awful"; but it did not interfere withtrue love; these two children met in the graveyard to swear undyingconstancy. Alfred's lantern came twinkling through the flakes, ashe threaded his way across the hillside among the tombstones, andfound Letty just inside the entrance, standing with her blackserving-woman under a tulip-tree. The negress, chattering with coldand fright, kept plucking at the girl's pelisse; but once Alfredwas at her side, Letty was indifferent to storm and ghosts. As forAlfred, he was too cast down to think of them. "Letty, they willpart us." "No, my dear Alfred, no!" "Yes. Yes, they will. Oh, ifyou were only mine!"
Miss Letty sighed. "Will you be true to me, Letty? Iam to go on a sailing-vessel to China, to be gone two years. Willyou wait for me?"
Letty gave a little cry; two years! Her black womantwitched her sleeve. "Miss Let, it's gittin' cole, honey." "(Don't,Flora.) – Alfred, two years! Oh, Alfred, that is aneternity. Why, I should be – I should be twenty!"
The lantern, set on a tombstone beside them, blinkedin a snowy gust. Alfred covered his face with his hands, he wasshaken to his soul; the little, gay creature beside him thrilled ata sound from behind those hands. "Alfred," – she said, faintly;then she hid her face against his arm; "my dear Alfred, I will, ifyou desire it – fly with you!"
Alfred, with a gasp, lifted his head and stared ather. His slower mind had seen nothing but separation and despair;but the moment the word was said he was aflame. What! Would she?Could she? Adorable creature! "Miss Let, my feet done get cole – "("Flora, be still!) – Yes, Alfred, yes. I am thine."
The boy caught her in his arms. "But I am to be sentaway on Monday! My angel, could you – fly, to-morrow ?"
And Letty, her face still hidden against hisshoulder, nodded.
Then, while the shivering Flora stamped, and beather arms, and the lantern flared and sizzled, Alfred made theirplans, which were simple to the point of childishness. "My own!" hesaid,