Miles Wallingford | Page 8

have been regarded as an insult by the less fortunate, at least with
complete success. Then Albany came into view, leaning against its
sharp acclivity, and spreading over its extensive bottom-land. It was not
the town it is to-day, by quite three-fourths less in dwellings and people;
but it was then, as now, one of the most picturesque-looking places in
America. There is no better proof, in its way, how much more influence
the talking and writing part of mankind have than the mere actors, than
is to be found in the relative consideration of Albany, on the scale of
appearance and position, as compared with those enjoyed by a hundred
other towns, more especially in the Eastern States. Almost without a
competitor, as to beauty of situation, or at least on a level with
Richmond and Burlington, among the inland towns, it was usually
esteemed a Dutch place that every pretender was at liberty to deride, in
my younger days. We are a people by no means addicted to placing our
candle under the bushel and yet I cannot recall a single civil expression
in any native writer touching the beauties of Albany. It may have been
owing to the circumstance that so much of the town was under the hill
at the beginning of the century, and that strangers had few opportunities

of seeing it to advantage; but I rather think its want of the Anglo-Saxon
origin was the principal reason it was so little in favour.
Glad enough was I to reach the wharves, with their line of storehouses,
that then literally spouted wheat into the sloops that crowded the quays,
on its way to feed the contending armies of Europe. Late as it was in
the season, wheat was still pouring outward through all the channels of
the country, enriching the farmers with prices that frequently rose as
high as two dollars and a half the bushel, and sometimes as high as
three. Yet no one was so poor in America as to want bread! The dearer
the grain, the higher the wages of the labourer, and the better he lived.
It was not at all late when the Wallingford was slowly approaching the
wharf where it was intended to bring-up. There was a sloop ahead of us,
which we had been gradually approaching for the last two hours, but
which was enabled to keep in advance in consequence of the lightness
of the wind. This dying away of the breeze rendered the approaching
noon-tide calm and pleasant; and everybody in-board, even to Grace,
came on deck, as we moved slowly past the dwellings on the eastern
bank, in order to get a view of the town. I proposed that the Clawbonny
party should land, contrary to our original intention, and profit by the
opportunity to see the political capital of the State at our leisure. Both
Grace and Lucy were inclined to listen favourably; and the Drewetts,
Andrew and his sisters, were delighted at this prospect of our remaining
together a little longer. Just at this moment, the Wallingford, true to her
character, was coming up with the sloop ahead, and was already
doubling on her quarter. I was giving some orders, when Lucy and
Chloe, supporting Grace, passed me on their way to the cabin. My poor
sister was pale as death, and I could see that she trembled so much she
could hardly walk. A significant glance from Lucy bade me not to
interfere, and I hid sufficient self-command to obey. I turned to look at
the neighbouring sloop, and found at once an explanation of my sister's
agitation. The Mertons and Rupert were on her quarter-deck, and so
near as to render it impossible to avoid speaking, at least to the former.
At this embarrassing instant Lucy returned to my side, with a view, as I
afterwards learned, to urge me to carry the Wallingford to some place
so distant, as to remove the danger of any intercourse. This accident

rendered the precaution useless, the whole party in the other vessel
catching sight of my companion at the same moment.
"This is an agreeable surprise!" called out Emily, in whose eyes
Rupert's sister could not be an object of indifference. "By your brother's
and Mrs. Drewett's account, we had supposed you at Clawbonny, by
the bed-side of Miss Wallingford."
"Miss Wallingford is here, as are my father, and Mrs. Drewett, and--"
Lucy never let it be known who that other "and" was intended to
include.
"Well, this is altogether surprising!" put in Rupert, with a steadiness of
voice that really astounded me. "At the very moment we were giving
you lots of credit for your constancy in friendship, and all that sort of
thing, here you are, Mademoiselle Lucie, trotting off to the Springs,