The Southern Literary Messenger, Vol. I., No. 3, November, 1834Various
History
The Southern Literary Messenger, Vol. I., No. 3, November, 1834
Various
American literature -- 19th century -- Periodicals
I had schooled myself to patience under these undeserved inflictions,
and was preparing to retire, when I was called to the door of the
ladies' cabin by the waiting maid--and met there my wife, who seemed in
a state of tribulation not inferior to my own. She said that since our
arrival on board the steamboat, the two ladies who had been previously
so kind and social, had scarcely noticed her, and had repelled every
attempt at a renewal of former civilities; in truth, that she had been
treated by her companions in much the same manner as I had been by
mine. This was an additional mystery. How could it happen that
contumely and disrespect were cast upon us from parties who were
strangers, having no connexion with each other? The mystery seemed
unfathomable, and after wearying myself with vain endeavors to conceive
some adequate cause for the altered conduct of our fellow travellers, I
fell asleep, and dreamed of myriads of self-important members of
congress, and self-admiring naval officers.
We found ourselves at the wharf at Baltimore in the morning, and in the
scramble to disengage our baggage from the mass heaped upon deck, (to
which every traveller is premonished by the oft-repeated advertisement
that "baggage is at the risk of the owner")--I met my whilom friends,
but without the slightest token of recognition on either side. The
talkative lady looked grave when I approached her, and was silent, ("an
excellent thing in woman")--the older matron, to whom I was to act as
protector for the remainder of her journey, shrunk from me as I
advanced with the salutation of the morning; and when all was prepared
for our departure from the steamboat, she declined my proffered arm, as
I conducted her to the carriage. To my wife she was equally
distant,--nor did a sumptuous breakfast at Barnum's, break the ice of
her reserve, or rather, her aversion. Certainly, thus far, our society
did not promise to be agreeable on either side. The lady kept as far
aloof from us as circumstances would allow, avoiding every opportunity
of conversation--and we were soon as silent as she, from a mingled
feeling of pride and resentment. We embarked in a stage about
mid-day--the roads was infamous, the weather chilly and obscure. We had
the carriage to ourselves, and the ride was therefore the more gloomy,
as among a promiscuous party we might have found some one willing to
cheer the way by conversation: but as we were situated with our
taciturn companion, excepting in an occasional colloquy with the
driver, our organs of speech were unemployed, and during the greater
part of our journey, we might have been taken for a party of mutes. As
we drew near to Washington, this reserve wore away in a measure.
Whether the lady's tongue became impatient of so long a period of
inaction, or whether her assumed dignity gave way under a requisition
upon it too great for its power--I know not. Certain it is, that she
occasionally deigned a remark, and sometimes condescended to put
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