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He sat some time. When he was gone, and I had finished my practising, came up to my own room. Was summoned thence to see my kinsman, who sat some time with me, and whom I like of all things. He makes it out (for he seems a great meddler in these matters) that we are originally Italian people, pirates by name, Campo Bello; the same family as the Scottish Campbells; the same family as the Norman Beauchamps: how I only wish it were true! I have, and always have had, the greatest love and veneration for old blood; I would rather by far have some barbarous Saxon giant to my ancestor, than all the wealth of the earth to my dower. I parted from my friend with much regret; he has won my heart fairly. When he was gone, came up to my own room. The day was brilliant and unclouded; and, as I looked into the serene blue sky, my spirit longed for wings.
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Dr. —— called this morning, and interested me by a long account of Webster; in the course of which, however, he gave me, if possible, a stronger distaste than I had before to the form of government in this country, from various results which he enumerated as inevitably belonging to it. Read a canto in Dante: it consoles me to read my Italian, and forget for a time all that is.
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I sat watching the glorious sunset, as it came redly streaming into my room, touching every thing with glory, and shining through my hair upon my book. It suggested to me a picture; and I wrote one for Mrs. ——, who had been consulting me about a costume in which to sit for her portrait. Dined at five: my father dined out. After dinner, sat writing journal till ten, when he returned. The moon was shining soft and full, and he asked me if I would take a walk. I bonneted and booted, and we sallied forth to the Schuylkill. The moon withdrew herself behind a veil of thin white clouds, but left a grey clear light over the earth, and through the sky. We reached the Fair Mount bridge at about eleven. The turnpike was fast, and every body asleep, so we climbed over the gate, and very deliberately pursued our way through the strange dark-looking covered bridge, where the glimmering lamps, at distant intervals, threw the crossing beams and rafters into momentary brightness, that had a strange effect contrasted with the surrounding gloom.[75] We reached the other side, and, turning off from the road, began climbing the hill opposite the breakwater. The road was muddy in the valley with heavy rains; and unwilling to wade through the dirt, we clambered along a paling for several yards, and so escaped the mire. My father steered for the grassy knoll just opposite Fair Mount; and there, screened by a thicket of young cedar bushes, with the river breaking over the broad dam far below us, and the shadowy banks on the other side melting away in the soft grey light, we sat down on a tree trunk. Here we remained for upwards of a quarter of an hour without uttering a syllable; indeed, we had not spoken three words since we set out. My father was thinking, I presume, of —— something; I, of the day of judgment—when these thick forests, and wide strong waters, like a shrivelled scroll, are to burn to ashes before the coming of God's justice. We were disturbed by a large white spaniel dog, who, coming down from among the cedar bushes, reminded me of the old witch stories, and Faust. We arose to depart, and took our way towards the Market Street bridge, along the banks of the river. The broken notes of a bugle-horn came at intervals across the sleeping waters from the opposite shore, where shone reflected the few lingering lights from the houses that had not yet shut up for the night. The moon, faintly struggling through the clouds, now touched the dark pyramids of the cedar trees that rose up into the grey sky, and threw our shadows on the lonely path we were pursuing, now cast a pale gleam through the rapid clouds that chased one another like dreams across the sky. The air was soft and balmy as the night air of mid August. The world was still; and, except our footfalls, as we trudged along, no sound disturbed the universal repose. We did not reach home till half-past twelve. As we walked down Market Street, through the long ranges of casks, the only creatures stirring, except some melancholy night-loving cat, my father said very calmly, "How I do wish I had a gimlet."—"What for?"—"What fun it would be to pierce every one of these barrels." For a gentleman of his years, this appeared to me rather a juvenile prompting of Satan; and as I laughingly expostulated on the wickedness of such a proceeding, he replied with much innocence, "I don't think they'd ever suspect me of having done it;" and truly I don't think they would. Came home, and to bed. That was a curious fancy of my father's.
A PICTURE.
Through the half open'd casement stream'd the light