here comes romeo, here comes romeo--without his roe, like a dried herring. o flesh, flesh! how art thou fishified!
romeo and juliet.
upon his return to his dear native town, morton was received by his father with his usual quiet affection; for old mr. morton was one of that nearly obsolete school of parents, husbands, and members of society, that do not think their duties in either relation require any sounding of trumpets, and who are of opinion that those who feel most deeply and sincerely religion, christian charity, or human affections, are generally people who seldom make any parade of either. this sect seems to be very nearly extinct, or at least their leading principles, i have been told, are exploded from the creeds of modern saints; but as my acquaintance with modern saints is, thank god, very limited, i cannot vouch for the fact.
it was not long after morton's return, when the young people of his own age and standing began to perceive an alteration in his manners, and that he, who was a leader in their gay parties, was now a moping, stupid, silent, dull creature, without any of his former animation and gaiety. the young ladies took it for granted that he was in love; and as it was evident that he was not in love with any of them, why of course some nymph in the pacific had stolen his heart; and as, moreover, they had no idea of the existence in that remote and unknown quarter of creation of any females more fascinating than the amphibious and lascivious damsels of the sandwich islands, (to convert whom from the error of their ways, more missionaries have been sent out, or volunteered their services, than to all the rest of the "poor ignorant heathen" put together,) or the ladies of the north west coast, who smell too strong of train-oil to comprehend the truths of christianity, or rather of calvanism, which is altogether another affair, and who are in consequence left in their original and antediluvian darkness.
impressed with this idea, and feeling both grieved and mortified that so excellent a young gentleman as charles morton should give himself up to such an absurd and, in their estimation, unnatural passion, the young ladies of new bedford determined to tease him out of it; much upon the same principle as the roman emperors endeavored to suppress the christian religion by exposing its professors to wild beasts: the wild beasts grew fat upon christians, and christianity grew fat and strong upon persecution. perhaps if the diademed tyrants had treated it with indifference, the effects would have been otherwise.
whenever poor morton was met in company, he was always the object of ridicule to these lively and well-meaning young ladies.
"pray, charles, do tell us something about this lady-love of yours; what's her complexion?"
"how much train-oil does she drink in the course of a day?" said another.
"or how much raw shark serves her for a meal?" asked a third.
"does she wear a spritsail-yard through the gristle of her nose?" said a fourth.
"or a brass ring in her under lip?" said a fifth.
"is she tattooed on both cheeks, or only on one?" said a sixth.
such was the peculiar style of banter to which he was sure to be subjected, whenever he went into company; and in a short time he abstained from visits, and devoted his time to perfecting himself in his nautical studies, and making diligent inquiries after vessels bound round cape horn. if ever you noticed it, madam, a man in love does not relish jokes at the expense of his idol. "ne lude cum sacris," ecclesiastically rendered, signifies, do not make fun of the clergy; but among lovers it means, do not speak of my love with levity or contempt. i remember when i was in love for the third or fourth time--i was then studying trigonometry and navigation--my passion being unable to expend itself in sonnets to my mistress's eyebrow, i gave way to geometrical flights of fancy, and took the altitude of every apple-tree and well-pole in the neighborhood, and made my advances to her upon the principles of traverse sailing.
nor was old mr. morton unconscious of the great alteration in his son's behaviour while at home, so unlike any thing he had ever observed before in him, and he saw the change with no small pain.
"the poor boy cannot have fallen in love," said the senior to himself; "there is nothing more amiable than a copper-colored squaw, beyond cape horn."
one saturday evening, the old man, being comfortably installed in his leather-cushioned arm-chair, with his pipe and pitcher of cider (for merchants, forty years since, drank cider at a dollar the barrel, instead of london particular madeira at five dollars the gallon, and the consequences were--no matter what), commenced the conversation:
"ahem! well, charles, my son, do you intend going to sea again, or would you prefer commencing business ashore? you are now at the age when most young men think of settling down for life. let's see--you are five-and-twenty, are you not?"
"five-and-twenty next month, father."
"aye, true; well, it's strange, now i can never recollect your age without looking into the bible there. i recollect, now, it was so stormy that we did not dare to carry you to the meeting-house, and so parson fales christened you in this very room."
"i wish," said charles, speaking with difficulty, "i wish, my dear sir, to make one more voyage round the cape as soon as possible, and then i don't care if i never see a ship again."
"well, that's strange enough; why, what have you seen in that part of the world so very enticing?"
"enticing, indeed!" said the young man, springing from his chair, and hurrying across the room in agitation; "something that i must possess, or die!"
"why, what a plague--why, what's got into the boy?" said the old gentleman, dashing down his pipe; "you haven't got be-devilled after those island girls, like a young fellow that i knew from boston, who got so bewitched after the copper-skinned, amphibious jades, that his father was finally obliged to locate him there, as a sort of agent."
"o! no, no, no! she is as white as my own mother, well born, well educated, and a protestant," said the son, hurrying his words upon each other; for he felt that the ice was broken, and saw the old gentleman's countenance lengthening fast; "oh, father, if you could but see her--if you but knew her--"
"hum," quoth pa, "i dare say that sixty and twenty-five would agree to a charm on such a subject; but pray, how the deuce came this well born, well educated, white, protestant damsel in the pacific, where the devil himself would never dream of looking for such a phenomenon?"
"it is a long story," said charles.
"if that's the case," said the senior mr. morton, "you had better step down cellar, and draw another mug of cider."
so saying, he replenished his pipe, and disposed himself in an attitude of calm resignation. as our readers are already acquainted with the history of the rise and progress of young morton's love, we shall say no more of his narrative than that towards the close of it, his father was surprised out of his gravity, and ejaculated the word "d--nation!" with great emphasis, at the same time, flinging his pipe into the fire, and exclaiming by way of sermon to his short and pithy text,
"why the d--l didn't you bring her with you, you foolish boy? why, you have no more spunk than a hooked cod-fish! you'll never see her again, if you make fifty voyages round the cape; she's in a nunnery by this time, or, what is more likely, married to that don what-d'ye-call-him."
charles could only repeat his conviction that neither event had taken place, and his firm reliance upon isabella's constancy.
"fiddle-de-dee! a woman's constancy! i would as soon take continental money at par!" was his father's reply.
their conversation on this interesting topic was protracted to a late hour, when they retired, the old gentleman to--sleep as sound as usual, and charles to yield himself most unreservedly to the illusions of sanguine, youthful hope and love--that love that one never has very severely but once in his life; for love is like a squall at sea; the inexperienced landsman sees nothing alarming in the aspect of the heavens, and is both astonished and vexed at the bustle and hurry, the "thunder of the captain and the shouting;" but when it comes "butt-eend foremost," he suffers a thousand times more from his fears than the oldest sailors. after one has become acquainted with the disorder, he can distinguish its premonitory symptoms, and crush it in the bud, or let it run on to a matrimonial crisis. for my own part, i can always ascertain, at its first accession, whether it is about to assume a chronic form, or pass off with a few acute attacks.
