- end_line
- 8483
- extracted_at
- 2026-01-30T20:48:14.842Z
- extracted_by
- structure-extraction-lambda
- start_line
- 8416
- text
- enemies of all strange young men.
I soon turned the conversation toward America, a theme which I knew
would be interesting, and upon which I could be fluent and agreeable. I
strove to talk in Addisonian English, and ere long could see very
plainly that my polished phrases were making a surprising impression,
though that miserable shooting-jacket of mine was a perpetual drawback
to my claims to gentility.
Spite of all my blandishments, however, the old lady stood her post
like a sentry; and to my inexpressible chagrin, kept the three charmers
in the background, though the old man frequently called upon them to
advance. This fine specimen of an old Englishman seemed to be quite as
free from ungenerous suspicions as his vinegary spouse was full of
them. But I still lingered, snatching furtive glances at the young
ladies, and vehemently talking to the old man about Illinois, and the
river Ohio, and the fine farms in the Genesee country, where, in
harvest time, the laborers went into the wheat fields a thousand
strong.
Stick to it, Wellingborough, thought I; don’t give the old lady time to
think; stick to it, my boy, and an invitation to tea will reward you.
At last it came, and the old lady abated her frowns.
It was the most delightful of meals; the three charmers sat all on one
side, and I opposite, between the old man and his wife. The middle
charmer poured out the souchong, and handed me the buttered muffins;
and such buttered muffins never were spread on the other side of the
Atlantic. The butter had an aromatic flavor; by Jove, it was perfectly
delicious.
And there they sat—the charmers, I mean—eating these buttered muffins
in plain sight. I wished I was a buttered muffin myself. Every minute
they grew handsomer and handsomer; and I could not help thinking what a
fine thing it would be to carry home a beautiful English wife! how my
friends would stare! a lady from England!
I might have been mistaken; but certainly I thought that Matilda, the
one who had handed me the milk, sometimes looked rather benevolently in
the direction where I sat. She certainly _did_ look at my jacket; and I
am constrained to think at my face. Could it be possible she had fallen
in love at first sight? Oh, rapture! But oh, misery! that was out of
the question; for what a looking suitor was Wellingborough?
At length, the old lady glanced toward the door, and made some
observations about its being yet a long walk to town. She handed me the
buttered muffins, too, as if performing a final act of hospitality; and
in other fidgety ways vaguely hinted her desire that I should decamp.
Slowly I rose, and murmured my thanks, and bowed, and tried to be off;
but as quickly I turned, and bowed, and thanked, and lingered again and
again. Oh, charmers! oh, Peris! thought I, must I go? Yes,
Wellingborough, you must; so I made one desperate congee, and darted
through the door.
I have never seen them since: no, nor heard of them; but to this day I
live a bachelor on account of those ravishing charmers.
As the long twilight was waning deeper and deeper into the night, I
entered the town; and, plodding my solitary way to the same old docks,
I passed through the gates, and scrambled my way among tarry smells,
across the tiers of ships between the quay and the Highlander. My only
resource was my bunk; in I turned, and, wearied with my long stroll,
was soon fast asleep, dreaming of red cheeks and roses.
- title
- Chunk 4