Arthur Mervyn | Page 7

and our babe's unpractised
senses shut up in the sweetest and profoundest sleep, Mervyn, after a
pause of recollection, began.
CHAPTER II.
My natal soil is Chester county. My father had a small farm, on which
he has been able, by industry, to maintain himself and a numerous
family. He has had many children, but some defect in the constitution
of our mother has been fatal to all of them but me. They died
successively as they attained the age of nineteen or twenty, and, since I
have not yet reached that age, I may reasonably look for the same

premature fate. In the spring of last year my mother followed her fifth
child to the grave, and three months afterwards died herself.
My constitution has always been frail, and, till the death of my mother,
I enjoyed unlimited indulgence. I cheerfully sustained my portion of
labour, for that necessity prescribed; but the intervals were always at
my own disposal, and, in whatever manner I thought proper to employ
them, my plans were encouraged and assisted. Fond appellations, tones
of mildness, solicitous attendance when I was sick, deference to my
opinions, and veneration for my talents, compose the image which I
still retain of my mother. I had the thoughtlessness and presumption of
youth, and, now that she is gone, my compunction is awakened by a
thousand recollections of my treatment of her. I was indeed guilty of no
flagrant acts of contempt or rebellion. Perhaps her deportment was
inevitably calculated to instil into me a froward and refractory spirit.
My faults, however, were speedily followed by repentance, and, in the
midst of impatience and passion, a look of tender upbraiding from her
was always sufficient to melt me into tears and make me ductile to her
will. If sorrow for her loss be an atonement for the offences which I
committed during her life, ample atonement has been made.
My father is a man of slender capacity, but of a temper easy and
flexible. He was sober and industrious by habit. He was content to be
guided by the superior intelligence of his wife. Under this guidance he
prospered; but, when that was withdrawn, his affairs soon began to
betray marks of unskilfulness and negligence. My understanding,
perhaps, qualified me to counsel and assist my father, but I was wholly
unaccustomed to the task of superintendence. Besides, gentleness and
fortitude did not descend to me from my mother, and these were
indispensable attributes in a boy who desires to dictate to his
gray-headed parent. Time, perhaps, might have conferred dexterity on
me, or prudence on him, had not a most unexpected event given a
different direction to my views.
Betty Lawrence was a wild girl from the pine-forests of New Jersey. At
the age of ten years she became a bound servant in this city, and, after
the expiration of her time, came into my father's neighbourhood in

search of employment. She was hired in our family as milkmaid and
market-woman. Her features were coarse, her frame robust, her mind
totally unlettered, and her morals defective in that point in which
female excellence is supposed chiefly to consist. She possessed
super-abundant health and good-humour, and was quite a supportable
companion in the hay-field or the barnyard.
On the death of my mother, she was exalted to a somewhat higher
station. The same tasks fell to her lot; but the time and manner of
performing them were, in some degree, submitted to her own choice.
The cows and the dairy were still her province; but in this no one
interfered with her or pretended to prescribe her measures. For this
province she seemed not unqualified, and, as long as my father was
pleased with her management, I had nothing to object.
This state of things continued, without material variation, for several
months. There were appearances in my father's deportment to Betty,
which excited my reflections, but not my fears. The deference which
was occasionally paid to the advice or the claims of this girl was
accounted for by that feebleness of mind which degraded my father, in
whatever scene he should be placed, to be the tool of others. I had no
conception that her claims extended beyond a temporary or superficial
gratification.
At length, however, a visible change took place in her manners. A
scornful affectation and awkward dignity began to be assumed. A
greater attention was paid to dress, which was of gayer hues and more
fashionable texture. I rallied her on these tokens of a sweetheart, and
amused myself with expatiating to her on the qualifications of her lover.
A clownish fellow was frequently her visitant. His attentions did not
appear to be discouraged. He therefore was readily supposed to be the
man. When pointed out as the favourite,