Alida Part 2

[* James Madison.]

Since his country was again brought to a lamentable destiny, he now became ardently active in its cause, and was prepared to carry to the full extent such measures of defence and resistance as should be necessary to repel every invasion of the just rights and privileges of the Americans that they had long been in possession of since their dear-bought independence, and could not therefore be willing to submit to anything like oppression, even from the mother country.

This national calamity, that seemed to awaken feelings of hilarity to some few among the mult.i.tude, but those of the deepest regret to so many others, where the parties must at length become personally engaged and animated against each other with an enthusiastic ardour, and with the hope to signalize themselves by their bravery--where the impetuosity of youth and the experience of age are called forth in open field to execute the decided discussions of government, and to engage with patriotic zeal in the common defence of their just rights and liberties; impelled with ambitious impulse to enlist themselves under the proud banners of their country, while the sound of martial music strikes a feeling of enthusiasm and enterprise to the bosom of the patriot.

Thus, in the name and cause of honour, the youth, generous and brave, with all those who are compelled to take arms, sally forth with the ambitious hope to bear down at once all contending opposition, and give themselves no time to reflect on the many disconsolate ones they leave behind them, that, however deeply concerned, can neither engage or a.s.sist in the shocking contest; while they go forward hastily to meet the foe, and hosts are advancing to dispute with them the victory, and they can indulge no thought concerning those who, when the battle is over, may have to lament the loss of a father, brother, or some other dear friend, and who mournfully await the decisive tidings, which perhaps is to render them for ever disconsolate; while they remain a prey to that incessant anguish which naturally awaits those who have lost, in this manner, their dearest friends and relations.

Thick clouds were darkly pending Above the battle fray, And foemen were contending For the fortune of the day.

And high in air the banner bright, Waving o'er land and sea, The potent symbol of their might, The emblem of the free.

Brave hearts that stood amid the storm That burst in fury round; With many a stern and manly form, Sunk powerless to the ground.

Deep gloom had settled round them, And darkness veil'd the sky, When Freedom, with her starry train, Descended from on high.

When, at her bidding, lo, a chief Amid the throng appear'd; When, the G.o.ddess halted by his side, And thus his spirits cheer'd:

"Oh, let not care oppress thee, But banish far thy fears, For, in blessing, I will bless thee, And will wipe away thy tears;

"And a banner thou shalt still retain, And a hand to lead the brave To glory and to victory, Or to the hero's grave."

Then fear not, honoured chieftain, For yet again shall be, Your flag shall wave o'er every land, And float on every sea.

What though in foreign clime it waves, Careering on the wind, Whatever sh.o.r.e the ocean laves, A due respect will find.

And the thunders of your s.h.i.+ps of war Along the deep shall roll, While the canvas of your merchantmen Shall sweep from pole to pole.

"And now, oh gallant chief," she cried, "Hold fast the glorious prize; The flag with blue and crimson dyed, And stars that gemmed the skies,

"Have left their native spheres to shed Their radiance o'er the field; Then while it waves above your head, To the foeman never yield.

"Bright forms shall hover o'er thee In the midst of war's alarms; And in triumph shall restore thee To a nation's waiting arms.

"Then on to Freedom's stormy height, Go forth in valour and in might, And bear aloft this emblem bright, Amid the battle fray."

Now around their chief they rally, And with zeal their bosoms glow; While the hoa.r.s.e cannon bellows forth Defiance to the foe.

The battle rages loudly, A dreadful carnage flows; When the messenger of victory The clarion trumpet blows.

Now clap your wings, oh Liberty, And upward take your flight; And let the gladsome tidings ring Throughout the realms of light.

And bid your eagle sound her cry, Wide o'er the land and sea; For patriot arms have triumphed, And the nation still is free.

Once more the song of Victory Shall spread the earth around, And the freemen on a thousand hills Re-echo back the sound.

And a banner long shall wave on high, And long your children stand, United, with a sacred tie, To guard their native land.

CHAPTER VI.

And may each day returning, with it bring That peace that o'er the weary senses fling A calm content; where no alloy attends The pleasing intercourse of happy friends.

Albert, the brother of Alida, during his residence in New-York, had formed an indissoluble friends.h.i.+p with a young gentleman who had lately graduated at Columbia College. His name was Theodore. He was about twenty years of age: he had been esteemed an excellent student. His appearance was manly, open, and free. His eye indicated a n.o.bleness of mind; he was naturally cheerful, although his aspect was tinged with melancholy, and his disposition was rather of the romantic cast. His father was an eminent merchant in the city, and had long been engaged in the various scenes of commerce. His son was designed for the law; but as the students were allowed some vacant time after their graduation before they entered upon their professional studies, he thought to improve this interim in mutual friendly visits, mingling sometimes with select parties in the amus.e.m.e.nts of the day, and in travelling through some parts of the United States.

The spring was advancing, and already began to shed its cheering influences over the face of nature, when, after a long period of clouds and darkness, the sun, with his illuminating beams, was chasing away the gloomy remains of winter, and recalling again to life and animation the innumerable beauties of creation.

The day was fixed on when Alida was to return to her native residence.

Albert was to attend her home, and he invited his friend Theodore to accompany him. It was evening when they arrived at the house of Albert's father, where they found considerable company collected, as was customary on the celebration of his birth-day.

He received his children with gladness and joy, and Theodore with friendly politeness.

"This meeting must be highly pleasing to you, miss," said Theodore to Alida, "after your long absence from home." "It is so, indeed," replied she, "and highly gratifying to my father, to meet here his children, and relations, on the annual occasion of celebrating his birth-day, when we are honoured with so numerous a company of uncles, aunts, cousins, nephews, and nieces, that one would suppose we were connected with half the families in the state. And sometimes they do not all leave us, in several weeks afterwards, and regale themselves in riding about the country and visiting the neighbours in the vicinity."

In the course of the evening they were joined by a number from the neighbouring villages, and among the rest was the son of a gentleman who had been long acquainted with the family. He was a gay young man; his address was easy; his manners rather voluptuous than refined; confident, but not ungraceful.

He led the ton in fas.h.i.+onable circles, and was quite a favourite with the ladies generally. His name was Bonville. He had seen Alida long before, but her additional graces since that time appeared far to exceed his expectations.

Alida at sixteen displayed many pleasing attractions. Her height rose to the majestic. She was tall and graceful, and her expressive features were adorned with hair of light auburn, which hung about her neck in natural ringlets; while her dark blue eyes, mingled at once the rays of sprightly intelligence, and a pleasing affability.

She was arrayed on this occasion, in a dress of white muslin, richly inwrought with needle-work. A silk embroidered sash surrounded her waist, and she wore on her head a wreath of artificial flowers. Her elder sisters manifested their pleasure in beholding the artless, unadorned school-girl, metamorphosed to the interesting young lady of fascinating manners and amiable deportment.

Social converse and rural amus.e.m.e.nts took up the greater part of the evening, when the general conversation of the gentlemen turned upon a topic in which they were all more or less interested, on what might be the unhappy result of the present contest, in which the American nation was engaged, which continued to engross their thoughts, and it was a late hour when the company separated.

Those who remained behind accompanied Alida on the next Sabbath to the village church, where they heard an able and sublime discourse delivered by the parish minister; highly edifying to the understanding and improving to the minds of the hearers.

This divine was fully competent in the possession of Christian principles and knowledge for his arduous calling, and had a happy talent of conveying them to others with effect, and communicating them in persuasive eloquence, for the benefit and reformation of mankind.

His powers of intellect and sentiments were no less liberal and enlarged, than they were ingenious and elegant. His aspect was serene, and his manners were cheerful, and the unruffled calmness of his mind bore the same character of exalted excellence, and gave testimony of a peaceful bosom, rich in good works.

He manifested a lively interest in the welfare of his congregation, and by his genuine goodness and pious example made many proselytes.

It was his endeavour to unite the minds of the people in one interest, and excite them to be zealous in the common cause of Christianity, where each individual, acting for the benefit of the whole, would find their own happiness blended with that of society in general, and be blessed in the reciprocal communication of charity and benevolence.

CHAPTER VII.

"Come, Friends.h.i.+p, twine a wreath for me, And weave it with the choicest flowers, To cheat the ling'ring steps of time, And gladden all life's pa.s.sing hours."

The time now arrived when Theodore was to enter upon his professional studies, and he became engaged in the office of an eminent attorney in New-York. He frequently absented himself, however, to accompany Albert to visit his father's family, and since his acquaintance with Alida, there was a charm that attracted him thither. If he had admired the manly virtues of the brother, could he fail to adore the gentle graces of the sister? If all the sympathies of the most ardent friends.h.i.+p had been drawn forth toward the former, must not all the softer sensibilities of the heart be attracted by the milder and more refined excellencies of the other?

Bonville had become the admirer of Alida; of course he and Theodore sometimes met. He had made no serious pretensions, but his particularity indicated something more than fas.h.i.+onable politeness. His manners, his independent situation, ent.i.tled him to respect. "It is not probable, therefore, that he will be objectionable to her friends, or to Alida herself," said Theodore, with an involuntary sigh, and as his visits became more frequent, an increasing anxiety took place in his bosom. He wished her to remain single; the idea of losing her by marriage, gave him inexpressible regret. What subst.i.tute could supply to him the happy hours he had pa.s.sed in her company? What charm could wing the lingering moments when she was gone?

How different would be the scene when debarred from the unreserved friends.h.i.+p and conversation of Alida. And unreserved it could not be, were she not exclusively mistress of herself. But was there not something of a more refined texture than friends.h.i.+p in his predilection for the company of Alida? If so, why not avow it? His prospects, his family, and of course his pretensions might not be inferior to those of Bonville.