Part 8 (1/2)

That night his dream (if after deeds make known Our plans in sleep) was an enchanting one.

Cx.x.xVII.

He woke, in strength, like Samson from his slumber, And walk'd Broadway, enraptured the next day; Purchased a house there--I've forgot the number-- And sign'd a mortgage and a bond, for pay.

Gave, in the slang phrase, Pearl-street the go-by, And cut, for several months, St. Tammany.

Cx.x.xVIII.

Bond, mortgage, t.i.tle-deeds, and all completed, He bought a coach and half a dozen horses (The bill's at Lawrence's--not yet receipted-- You'll find the amount upon his list of losses), Then fill'd his rooms with servants, and whatever Is necessary for a ”genteel liver.”

Cx.x.xIX.

This last removal fix'd him: every stain Was blotted from his ”household coat,” and he Now ”show'd the world he was a gentleman,”

And, what is better, could afford to be; His step was loftier than it was of old, His laugh less frequent, and his manner told

CXL.

What lovers call ”unutterable things”-- That sort of dignity was in his mien Which awes the gazer into ice, and brings To recollection some great man we've seen, The Governor, perchance, whose eye and frown, 'Twas shrewdly guess'd, would knock Judge Skinner down.

CXLI.

And for ”Resources,” both of purse and head, He was a subject worthy Bristed's pen; Believed devoutly all his flatterers said, And deem'd himself a Cr[oe]sus among men; Spread to the liberal air his silken sails, And lavish'd guineas like a Prince of Wales.

CXLII.

He mingled now with those within whose veins The blood ran pure--the magnates of the land-- Hail'd them as his companions and his friends, And lent them money and his note of hand.

In every inst.i.tution, whose proud aim Is public good alone, he soon became

CXLIII.

A man of consequence and notoriety; His name, with the addition of esquire, Stood high upon the list of each society, Whose zeal and watchfulness the sacred fire Of science, agriculture, art, and learning, Keep on our country's altars bright and burning.

CXLIV.

At Eastburn's Rooms he met, at two each day, With men of taste and judgment like his own, And play'd ”first fiddle” in that orchestra Of literary worthies--and the tone Of his mind's music, by the listeners caught, Is traced among them still in language and in thought.

CXLV.

He once made the Lyceum a choice present Of muscle sh.e.l.ls pick'd up at Rockaway; And Mitchill gave a cla.s.sical and pleasant Discourse about them in the streets that day, Naming the sh.e.l.ls, and hard to put in verse 'twas, ”Testaceous coverings of bivalve moluscas.”