Ensign, you wont be the first man our Jemima has bundled with, will
it Jemima?' when little Jemima, who, by the bye, was a very pretty,
black-eyed girl, of about sixteen or seventeen, archly replied, 'No,
father, not by many, but it will be with the first Britainer' (the name
they give to Englishmen). In this dilemma what could I do? The smiling
invitation of pretty Jemima--the eye, the lip, the--Lord ha' mercy,
where am I going to? But wherever I may be going now, I did not go to
bundle with her--in the same room with her father and mother, my kind
_host_ and _hostess_ too! I thought of that--I thought of more
besides--to struggle with the passions of nature; to clasp Jemima in my
arms--to--do what? you'll ask--why, to do--nothing! for if amid all
these temptations, the lovely Jemima had melted into kindness, she had
been an outcast from the world--treated with contempt, abused by
violence, and left perhaps to perish! No, Jemima; I could have endured
all this to have been blest with you, but it was too vast a sacrifice,
when you was to be the victim! Suppose how great the test of virtue must
be, or how cold the American constitution, when this unaccountable
custom is in hospitable repute, and perpetual practice.
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