The Attaché; or Sam Slick in England — Complete Read online

  CHAPTER IV. HOME AND THE SEA.

  At eleven o'clock the next day the Tyler having shaken out her pinions,and spread them to the breeze, commenced at a rapid rate her long andsolitary voyage across the Atlantic. Object after object rose in rapidsuccession into distinct view, was approached and passed, until leavingthe calm and sheltered waters of the bay, we emerged into the ocean, andinvoluntarily turned to look back upon the land we had left. Long afterthe lesser hills and low country had disappeared, a few ambitious peaksof the highlands still met the eye, appearing as if they had advancedto the very edge of the water, to prolong the view of us till the lastmoment.

  This coast is a portion of my native continent, for though not a subjectof the Republic, I am still an American in its larger sense, having beenborn in a British province in this hemisphere. I therefore sympathisedwith the feelings of my two companions, whose straining eyes were stillfixed on those dim and distant specks in the horizon.

  "There," said Mr. Slick, rising from his seat, "I believe we have seenthe last of home till next time; and this I will say, it is the mostglorious country onder the sun; travel where you will, you won't dittoit no where. It is the toploftiest place in all creation, ain't it,minister?"

  There was no response to all this bombast. It was evident he had notbeen heard; and turning to Mr. Hopewell, I observed his eyes werefixed intently on the distance, and his mind pre-occupied by painfulreflexions, for tears were coursing after each other down his furrowedbut placid cheek.

  "Squire," said Mr. Slick to me, "this won't do. We must not allow him todwell too long on the thoughts of leaving home, or he'll droop like anything, and p'raps, hang his head and fade right away. He is aged andfeeble, and every thing depends on keeping up his spirits. An old plantmust be shaded, well watered, and tended, or you can't transplant it nohow, you can fix it, that's a fact. He won't give ear to me now, forhe knows I can't talk serious, if I was to try; but he will listen to_you_. Try to cheer him up, and I will go down below and give you achance."

  As soon as I addressed him, he started and said, "Oh! is it you, Squire?come and sit down by me, my friend. I can talk to _you_, and I assureyou I take great pleasure in doing so I cannot always talk to Sam: heis excited now; he is anticipating great pleasure from his visit toEngland, and is quite boisterous in the exuberance of his spirits. Iown I am depressed at times; it is natural I should be, but I shallendeavour not to be the cause of sadness in others. I not only likecheerfulness myself, but I like to promote it; it is a sign of aninnocent mind, and a heart in peace with God and in charity with man.All nature is cheerful, its voice is harmonious, and its countenancesmiling; the very garb in which it is clothed is gay; why then shouldman be an exception to every thing around him? Sour sectarians, whoaddress our fears, rather than our affections, may say what they please,Sir, but mirth is not inconsistent with religion, but rather an evidencethat our religion is right. If I appear dull, therefore, do not supposeit is because I think it necessary to be so, but because certainreflections are natural to me as a clergyman, as a man far advanced inyears, and as a pilgrim who leaves his home at a period of life, whenthe probabilities are, he may not be spared to revisit it.

  "I am like yourself, a colonist by birth. At the revolution I took nopart in the struggle; my profession and my habits both exempted me.Whether the separation was justifiable or not, either on civil orreligious principles, it is not now necessary to discuss. It took place,however, and the colonies became a nation, and after due consideration,I concluded to dwell among mine own people. There I have continued, withthe exception of one or two short journeys for the benefit of my health,to the present period. Parting with those whom I have known so long andloved so well, is doubtless a trial to one whose heart is still warm,while his nerves are weak, and whose affections are greater than hisfirmness. But I weary you with this egotism?"

  "Not at all," I replied, "I am both instructed and delighted by yourconversation. Pray proceed, Sir."

  "Well it is kind, very kind of you," said he, "to say so. I will explainthese sensations to you, and then endeavour never to allude tothem again. America is my birth-place and my home. Home has twosignifications, a restricted one and an enlarged one; in its restrictedsense, it is the place of our abode, it includes our social circle, ourparents, children, and friends, and contains the living and the dead;the past and the present generations of our race. By a very naturalprocess, the scene of our affections soon becomes identified with them,and a portion of our regard is transferred from animate to inanimateobjects. The streams on which we sported, the mountains on which weclambered, the fields in which we wandered, the school where we wereinstructed, the church where we worshipped, the very bell whose pensivemelancholy music recalled our wandering steps in youth, awaken inafter-years many a tender thought, many a pleasing recollection, andappeal to the heart with the force and eloquence of love. The countryagain contains all these things, the sphere is widened, new objects areincluded, and this extension of the circle is love of country. It isthus that the nation is said in an enlarged sense, to be our home also.

  "This love of country is both natural and laudable: so natural, that toexclude a man from his country, is the greatest punishment that countrycan inflict upon him; and so laudable, that when it becomes a principleof action, it forms the hero and the patriot. How impressive, howbeautiful, how dignified was the answer of the Shunamite woman toElisha, who in his gratitude to her for her hospitality and kindness,made her a tender of his interest at court. 'Wouldst thou,' said he, 'bespoken for to the king, or to the captain of the host?'--What an offerwas that, to gratify her ambition or flatter her pride!--'I dwell,' saidshe, 'among mine own people.' What a characteristic answer! all historyfurnishes no parallel to it.

  "I too dwell 'among my own people:' my affections are there, and therealso is the sphere of my duties; and if I am depressed by the thoughtsof parting from 'my people,' I will do you the justice to believe, thatyou would rather bear with its effects, than witness the absence of suchnatural affection.

  "But this is not the sole cause: independently of some afflictions ofa clerical nature in my late parish, to which it is not necessary toallude, the contemplation of this vast and fathomless ocean, bothfrom its novelty and its grandeur, overwhelms me. At home I am fondof tracing the Creator in his works. From the erratic comet in thefirmament, to the flower that blossoms in the field; in all animate, andinanimate matter; in all that is animal, vegetable or mineral, I see Hisinfinite wisdom, almighty power, and everlasting glory.

  "But that Home is inland; I have not beheld the sea now for many years.I never saw it without emotion; I now view it with awe. What an emblemof eternity!--Its dominion is alone reserved to Him, who made it.Changing yet changeless--ever varying, yet always the same. How weakand powerless is man! how short his span of life, when he is viewedin connexion with the sea! He has left no trace upon it--it will notreceive the impress of his hands; it obeys no laws, but those imposedupon it by Him, who called it into existence; generation aftergeneration has looked upon it as we now do--and where are they? Likeyonder waves that press upon each other in regular succession, they havepassed away for ever; and their nation, their language, their templesand their tombs have perished with them. But there is the Undying one.When man was formed, the voice of the ocean was heard, as it now is,speaking of its mysteries, and proclaiming His glory, who alone liftethits waves or stilleth the rage thereof.

  "And yet, my dear friend, for so you must allow me to call you, awful asthese considerations are, which it suggests, who are they that go downto the sea in ships and occupy their business in great waters? Thesordid trader, and the armed and mercenary sailor: gold or blood istheir object, and the fear of God is not always in them. Yet the seashall give up its dead, as well as the grave; and all shall--

  "But it is not my intention to preach to you. To intrude serious topicsupon our friends at all times, has a tendency to make both ourselves andour topics distasteful. I mention these things to you, not that
they arenot obvious to you and every other right-minded man, or that I thinkI can clothe them in more attractive language, or utter them with moreeffect than others; but merely to account for my absence of mind andevident air of abstraction. I know my days are numbered, and in thenature of things, that those that are left, cannot be many.

  "Pardon me, therefore, I pray you, my friend; make allowances for an oldman, unaccustomed to leave home, and uncertain whether he shall ever bepermitted to return to it. I feel deeply and sensibly your kindness insoliciting my company on this tour, and will endeavour so to regulatemy feelings as not to make you regret your invitation. I shall not againrecur to these topics, or trouble you with any further reflections 'onHome and the Sea.'"