The Southern Literary Messenger, Vol. I., No. 5, January, 1835Various
History
The Southern Literary Messenger, Vol. I., No. 5, January, 1835
Various
American literature -- 19th century -- Periodicals
"I awoke in the morning, and having peeped from my window and found the
weather as bad as ever, I again pressed my pillow with design to woo a
morning nap. All at once I recollected the extraordinary vision or
dream of the past night--every circumstance clearly presenting itself
to my mind--every look and gesture of the figure, and every word
uttered, seemed engraved on my memory--I tried to convince myself that
it was a dream; I argued with myself and resolved that it was a
dream--but something within me said, 'it is no dream.' For several days
I thought of nothing else; but at sixteen we are not fond of a long
continued musing about any thing, good or bad; and in the excitement of
hunting, fishing, and going to meetings on Sundays, the impression wore
off by degrees.
"I returned to college, studied hard, frolicked harder, and was
indefatigable in every piece of mischief which could be devised by the
collective wisdom and ingenuity of eighty boys; and having several
times narrowly escaped suspension and once been threatened with
dismission absolute, I finished the course, and came to Richmond to
amuse myself in every way I could find out; and for want of other
matter to engage me, to dip a little into the sublime study of the law.
The winter of 1831-2 was commencing. The redoubtable cholera had not
yet arrived in America; but all were dreading it. Folks here seemed
determined to take time by the forelock and live merrily while they
could. I made acquaintances; and received invitations to parties, of
which I attended many, where I cannot aver that even my small stock of
ideas was much augmented, though on the score of creature comforts they
were very pleasant; and by dutifully and honestly paying the expected
visit after, acquired the repute of an honest, polite and agreeable
young man. Some unthinking youths are so shortsighted as to care very
little about paying a visit after a party, though they are very
particular in paying it _before_ one is to take place. That was not my
plan: I was always addicted to the calculation of chances, and argued
that as one party had been given at a particular house, possibly, nay
probably, (bating accidents) another might be in the course of time.
Upon this principle I acted, and do not think that I ever lost by it.
The winter passed and summer came on.--I went to the White Sulphur
Springs, and by eating huge dinners and suppers, and drinking the
dreadful waters; galloping about the mountains in Miss ----'s train,
and occasionally walking five or six miles to fish, I got into
prodigious health--my limbs grew firm and hard as iron, and I felt
strong enough to brain a wild bull, or hug a bear to death. But I grew
tired of this life, and early in the fall came back to Richmond to see
what in the deuce the people were doing with the cholera. The
newspapers said the city was as silent and gloomy as a charnel house.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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