Harper's New Monthly Magazine, Vol. 3, No. 15, August, 1851Various
General
Harper's New Monthly Magazine, Vol. 3, No. 15, August, 1851
Various
American literature -- Periodicals; Civilization -- Periodicals; Culture -- Periodicals
Four years passed before I had an opportunity of revisiting home; and it
was with a beating as well as joyful heart, and light, elastic step,
that I set off to walk the distance from Gosport to Itchen. I need
hardly say that I was welcomed by Jane with tears of love and happiness.
It was not long, however, before certain circumstances occurred which
induced my worthy but peremptory father to cut my leave of absence
suddenly and unmercifully short. I have before noticed that the
aborigines of my native place were for the most part Dibles or Diapers.
Well, it happened that among the former was one Ellen Dible, the
daughter of a fisherman somewhat more prosperous than many of his
fellows. This young lady was a slim, active, blue-eyed, bright-haired
gipsy, about two years younger than myself, but somewhat tall and
womanly for her age, of a light, charming figure, and rather genteel
manners; which latter quality, by-the-by, must have come by nature, for
but little education of any kind had fallen to her share. She was, it
may be supposed, the _belle_ of the place, and very numerous were her
rustic admirers; but they all vanished in a twinkling, awestruck by my
uniform, and especially by the dangling dirk which I occasionally
handled in a very alarming manner; and I, sentimental moon-calf that I
was, fell, as it is termed, deeply and earnestly in love with the
village beauty! It must have been her personal graces alone--her
conversation it could not be--which thus entangled me; for she seldom
spoke, and then in reply only, and in monosyllables; but she listened
divinely, and as we strolled in the evening through the fields and woods
between Itchen and Netley Abbey, gazed with such enchanting eloquence in
my face, as I poured forth the popular love and nonsense poetry of the
time, that it is very possible I might have been sooner or later
entrapped into a ruinous marriage--not by her, poor girl! she was, I am
sure, as guileless as infancy, but by her parents, who were scheming,
artful people--had not my father discovered what was going on, and in
his rough way dispelled my silly day-dreams at once and forever.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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