Chapter 11 - Page 2

the
letters bore the post-marks of the office nearest Clawbonny; the third was
from Albany; and the fourth was a packet of some size from Washington,
franked by the Secretary of State, and bearing the seal of office.
Surprised at such a circumstance, I opened the last of these
communications first.

The official letter proved to be an envelope containing,--with a civil
request to myself to deliver the enclosures,--dispatches addressed to the
Consul at Hamburg, for which port my ship had been advertised some time.
Of course, I could only determine to comply; and that communication was
disposed of. One of the Clawbonny letters was in Mr. Hardinge's hand, and
I found it to contain some excellent and parental advice. He spoke of my
sister, but it was calmly, and with the humble hope that became his sacred
office. I was not sorry to find that he advised me not to visit Clawbonny
before I sailed. Lucy, he said, was well, and a gentle sadness was
gradually taking the place of the livelier grief she had endured,
immediately after the loss of her friend. "You were not aware, Miles, how
keenly she suffered," my good old guardian continued, "for she struggled
hard to seem calm in your presence; but from me my dear child had no
secrets on this subject, whatever she may see fit to have on another.
Hours has she passed, weeping on my bosom, and I much doubt if the image
of Grace has been absent from her waking thoughts a single minute, at any
one time, since we first laid your sister's head in the coffin. Of you she
does not speak often, but, when she does, it is ever in the kindest and
most solicitous manner; calling you 'Miles,' 'poor Miles,' or 'dear
Miles,' with all that _sisterly_ frankness and affection you have known in
her from childhood." The old gentleman had underscored the
"_sisterly_" himself.

To my delight and surprise, there was a long, very long, letter from Lucy,
too! How it happened that I did not recognise her pretty, delicate,
lady-like handwriting, is more than I can say; but the direction had been
overlooked in the confusion of receiving so many letters together. That
direction, too, gave me pleasure. It was to "Miles Wallingford, Esquire;"
whereas the three others were addressed to "Capt. Miles Wallingford, ship
Dawn, New York." Now a ship-master is no more entitled, in strict usage,
to be called a "captain," than he is to be called an "esquire." Your
man-of-war officer is the only true _captain_; a 'master' being nothing
but a 'master.' Then, no American is entitled to be called an 'esquire,'
which is the correlative of "knight," and is a title properly prohibited
by the constitution, though most people imagine that a