"Well, well, I shall see," said Wyliehart, as he opened the street door," but at present I have no time to stay about it. Just give the windows a clean, and keep out of mischief." "Oh to be sure I will," said Wilde, as the door shut; " of course I shall clean the window! of course I shall hang and cling to it like a bat, from six in the morning till six at night. That's what old Toby paid the premium for-more the fool. He could have taught me that himself, and saved the money. Clean the windows and dust the bottles-I'll see them smashed first!" and he seized a pestle, and threw it towards the glass case where the said bottles stood, taking care, however, that it should fall short of the mark. Leaving the missile where it fell, he went to the top of the kitchen stairs, and shouted in a loud voice, "Halloo, Doll! are you below?" Now Mrs. Dorothy, Mr. Wyliehart's housekeeper, was of a discreet, steady age, and was not overpartial to being addressed in this rude, unceremonious, and familiar style; but then she knew that when Master Wilde spoke to her in this way something had occurred to ruffle his temper, and Mistress Dorothy was lenient to the faults of youth, for she remembered that she herself was once young, so she did not resent Harry's rudeness. "I am below, Sir," said she," and what do you want with me?" "Do you know what's the matter with our governor? He's as fierce as a mad bull." Goodness, no! How should I know, Master Harry; perhaps he has something on his mind, poor gentleman." “I wish he had," replied the youth; and as he spoke he came sliding down Dorothy's polished banisters, like the car on the centrifugal railway. I must confess the figure is not perfect, for in that scientific exhibition, when the car arrives at the bottom of the circle, it is carried up the other side by its own velocity; but when Master Wilde arrived at the bottom of the banisters there was no corresponding ascent on which to exhibit the principle, and he consequently fell a dead weight to the stone pavement. The feeling Dorothy flew screaming from the kitchen, but Harry was standing upright, with his hands in their usual resting place, and his mouth screwed up ready for a whistle. "Well of all the rows," said he, "what a hollo-bulloo you kick up." "Gracious," said Dorothy, "I thought you were killed." "Then why the dickens couldn't you wait till you knew?" "Well, I must say it's a judgment on you for wishing something was on master's mind." "It's a whopping judgment, Dolly-feel the lump ;" and he guided her hand to an immense swelling at the back of his head. "Dear heart o'me," said she, "come into the kitchen, and let me put some brown paper and vinegar on it." "Brown paper and fiddle-sticks! but I do wish something was on the governor's mind for all that. I wish it was on his mind to do his duty in that state of life-do you know the Church Catechism, Dolly ?" Without waiting for an answer he ascended the stairs, went to the door leading from the surgery into the street, bolted it, and returned to the little back parlour. My mind to me a kingdom is," said he, and he stood to warm himself before the fire, which he had stirred into a clear bright blaze. After a time he turned round and looked at the books which were locked in a small glazed book-case opposite the fire; "you are a library," said he, "though you mayn't think it; but you are, just as much as Dorothy is housekeeper. Some people might call her maid of all work, and you only a few books; but it's no such thing, you are a library. There's one, two, three," and he counted up to thirteen," and only four of you that don't belong to him; but it's all the same-they are Mr. Hamilton's. If I'm a good boy, mind you that, and don't tease him to cut this eye of mine, I shall have a personal introduction to you one day, and I may actually read you through and through. Does he think I shall wait his pleasure? Ha, ha, he little knows we are old friends already ;" and he took a small key from his waistcoat pocket, opened the book-case, took out a volume, and sat down to read. ODD LEAVES FROM AN ODD MAN'S NOTE BOOK-No. 3. CHAPTER VII. THE ODD MAN DEVOTES A CHAPTER TO THE POOR, "The poor shall never cease from the land"; such was the text from which our sleek and wealthy pluralist preached this morning; and how eloquently, to be sure, he discoursed! How excellently did he enlarge upon the uselessness of murmurs and complaints! How powerfully did he enforce the great doctrine that the wretched and the starving should be contented and quiet! And how wisely and effectively did he urge upon his well-fed, well-clad hearers, that property was not to be held, as in the Apostles' time, "in common," but to be cherished and esteemed as a gift from Heaven. Oh! the falsehood, the hypocrisy, the grovelling selfishness of all this! No matter, ye poor, that ye are robbed and ground down-trampled upon and insulted with cruel mockings; that your plunderers batten on your blood and life; feed sumptuously every day, whilst you can scarcely find a crust; deck themselves in purple and fine linen, whilst you go shivering through the cold and homeless streets; you should be quiet, contented, and happy; for it is ordained that "the poor shall never cease from the land.' But can the great Arbiter permit this for ever? 'Neath a royal roof were gather'd The noble and the gay; The rich and the great and the proud were there, In costliest array; Such splendour lit the flying hour, Such brilliance deck'd the scene, You'd have deemed the land were a happy land, Where such could be, I ween! In Art's most gorgeous fabrics, In gold, and pearl, and countless gems, And the only thought in the many breasts Was how to heap fresh costliness, Upon that hour's delight. The prelate and the noble, The warrior and the wealthy one, Oh! you'd have thought the world redeem'd But lo! another picture That glittering hour displays; No shelter's o'er them spread; There's not an eye to pity, Oh! when I see this contrast- When with the laugh of o'ergorg'd wealth, I turn, GREAT GOD, to Thee, and ask— Will not these dying cries, Like a murder'd brother's shrieking blood, CHAPTER VIII. THE ODD MAN LIVES AGAIN SOME OF HIS LOVE-DAYS. Looking through some of the back volumes of my Note-Book, I have come upon two passages that remind me of one of the most sorrowful and one of the most joyful occurrences in my history. Fond lost one! it is of thee they speak. Oh! if thy gentle spirit hovers near me now, hear me as I record the pangs that rent my heart at that mournful time, when thou wert far away in other lands, and I was left to mourn thy loss; hear the cry thy absence wrung from me! Like a world that's forsook by the sun of its sphere, Is my heart in thy absence, my life's star of light! I pant for the day, but it cometh not near, I gaze, but can pierce not the mantle of night. Dark, desolate, cold, is the soul that once knew A blight's o'er the Heaven I once joyed to view, I have learnt what is death; yes! what death is in life! Oh! when will this night of deep darkness be o'er? Are nought to me now; I regard them unmoved. They'd be curses-deep curses-unhallowed by thee! Is ever this dark dreary night to be o'er? Is the sun of my life e'er again to arise? Will the vision that bless'd me return to me more? Will the daylight of love e'er again meet mine eyes? And then came thy return; and my eart arose from its grave. I recollect as though it were but yesterday, the thrill I felt when I knew that on the morrow I should meet thee, and bask in the sweet sunshine of thine eye. I felt as though the stone were rolled away from the dark sepulchre in which my existence was interred, and that light and life were before me. And these were the first words of my new being: Bound on, O my spirit! bound on! There is joy for thee, dreamer! once more; And there's light in my sky as of yore! Bound on, O my spirit! bound on! Bound on, O my spirit! bound on! My heart's stricken altar yet burns! Bound on, O my spirit! bound on! Fame's visions, which late I deem'd fled, Return, and ask yet to be won I awake! I arise from the dead! Bound on, O my spirit! bound on! The life that I feel is divine; The Death-cloud that wrapp'd me is gone, And happiness yet shall be mine. CHAPTER IX. THE ODD MAN, IN FIVE SONNETS, DESCRIBES FROM HIS OWN EXPERIENCE THE FIRST EFFECTS OF LOVE ON THE LIFE. any I wonder what human life would be without Love. Would thing great be achieved? Would anything good be performed? Should we understand what beauty is-w -what sublimity means? Should we perceive virtue? Should we know GOD? No! The world would be all selfishness and darkness-there would be no beauty-no goodness-no Deity! What a void life is till Love comes! And then what a glorious universe is opened to us! Even now, through the dark curtain of my years of grief, I can recall the great scene that spread itself before me when Love awoke me from youth's thoughtless slumber : As when from some dark, death-like, dreamless trance The sleeper wakes to consciousness and light, Or as, when fresh from the Creator's glance, Adam arose from his chaotic night, And felt the bliss of being-so did I Awake to love. Then first my spirit breathed A spirit's atmosphere. My ravished eye Beheld new worlds--my quicken'd fancy wreathed That came like angels on. My life appeared Like some fair world that yields immortal flowers, Till then my life-if life it could be called That brought me neither happiness nor pain Was by its cold relationships enthralled, And cared for nought-for nought it had to gain. It may be p'r'aps, that oft some throb for fame- And left a darker vacancy behind : It may be, too, that oft I longed to see And enter the great region of the True To be from Folly and from Falsehood free But in Time's gaze these longings melted, too. But when Love waved his wand, the dark dense cloud And then it rose to Nature's bounteous GoD. The' awakening light that dawned upon my mind, Reflecting HIM from whom it had its birth; And by its strength it kindled into life The dormant passions of my dreaming soul, Stirr'd all my spirit's elements to strife, And bade the rapid tide of Feeling roll; It quickened Thought-and Thought, dominion seizing, And lo! its warmth, my heart's chill chains unfreezing, |
