There was little in that carpetless room, with its narrow cot, and its one chair, and its small window with the cracked and puttied panes, to inspire hopefulness or even cheerfulness, if the spirit looks to external objects for its coloring; and yet the one eye that pierced within the bosom of the solitary lad, saw the blessed light that was beginning to dawn there, and the invisible hand that so affectionately helpeth us in our necessity, was stretched forth to lift him out of the despondency that had hitherto pressed him continually downward.
The sun was near its setting, and the evening was coming on with its slow, midsummer pace, and he had sat for one whole hour beside the window, with bowed head, and clasped hands building up a castle, which, perchance might fall; perchance might resist the shock of ages, and prove the admiration of every beholder. What mattered it to him, so long as it served to divert him from the one baneful subject—his distorted self—and place him for the time being at least, in an atmosphere of glory and delight! It was better by far than the boisterous mirth of the rude boys whose riotous sport filled the open space near his dwelling with revolting and uncouth sounds; and these silent and intense yearnings after something higher and better than his present state, were almost sure to result in some real and noble achievement.
Not much could be found in any of his surroundings to encourage his lofty aspirations; what with the coarse father whose only mastery was of the trowel by day, and at night the pipe; and the simple grandmother who dwelt with wonder, and almost with alarm on every progressive step of the boy. As he looked from the small loop-hole that admitted the light and air to his humble room, there was naught before him save blocks of brick and stone, with a large square of ground intervening, which was unfenced and covered with rough stone, and the refuse from the adjoining houses; but that same uncultivated plot insured to him a wide expanse above, whither his longing soul often turned for the beauty and power that it met not on earth. The bay was shut off from his view by the broad and high masonry which his wealthy neighbors had erected between him and his chief joy, and the only glimpse of water visible to him now was a stagnant pond, on which dirty and ill-mannered urchins were constantly sailing their boats of paper or wood. One would have thought that there was nothing to attach him to so barren and unattractive a spot, and yet the greatest of all his anxieties was lest amid the encroachments of an ambitious and increasing population, the miserable hut that had become a palace to him in its hallowed associations, would fall under the ban of some authoritative power, and himself be cast forth into some new place where memory and affection had no hold.
The extensive traveler, whose mind has an unbounded range, can scarcely conceive of the immense value of a limited space to his equally acquisitive though less favored brother. Thousands, whose feet had wandered amid all the wonders of the earth, came back to their every-day plodding life with vacant brains and unexpanded souls, while Archibald Mackie, in his non-suggestive hovel, gathered big thoughts and exalted ideas, and grew majestic in intellect, even as he was diminutive in his outward frame. Not a stone upon the waste before him but could tell him its thrilling tale of weary heads pillowed thereon, when all other resting-places failed; of scanty meals spread out upon them for lack of a social board; and of forlorn and forsaken ones, sighing out their bitter plaints unto these flinty auditors for want of more attentive hearers. Not a block in the noble structures all about but could bear witness to many a sorrowing soul whose drooping body was sustained only by the thought of the needy ones at home, whose wants gave energy to every effort. Not a child amid the group that frequented the common play-ground near but spoke to him, either of blessed ties, and hallowed sympathies, and tender care, and watchful training, or of a broken circle, and chilled feelings, and an utter destitution of interest or culture. But these were all wearisome to him compared to the splendors that were revealed from the heavenly creation, where his gaze was so lovingly fixed on this evening, after meeting Mrs. Fay and her little daughter Kittie.
He could remember his mother more by the endearing fondness lavished upon him from his birth, than by any distinct impression of her features, but this night her face took the form of the strange lady's in his imagination, and made him sadder than ever as he looked upward to meet it.
"Wherefore, oh! wherefore wert thou taken from me, my mother!" said he, as he bowed still lower before God, as if crushed beneath the weight of so mighty a sorrow. "How can I be any thing without thy gentle guidance, and with none to help me out of my ignorance and nothingness?"
"With God nothing is impossible!" came the answer from his mother's Bible, which he had opened to the place that her own hand had marked, and Archie lifted up his heart and his head, and went out at the summons of his grandmother.
CHAPTER II.
"What can I do for you, my darling?" said Mrs. Lincoln, as she bent over a languid form that was extended upon the sofa in front of an open door. The perfume of rare flowers was wafted to them from the cultivated borders without, and the rich foliage cast a soft shade upon the lawn, shutting out the intensity of the summer sun, and making the air bland and grateful. Pet hounds were gamboling about the room, and games and toys of every description were scattered all about in the greatest profusion. A stuffed chair, on rollers, was near the boy, and a garden chair stood upon the steps, ready for immediate use, and every thing around seemed fitted to minister to a diseased body and a capricious will. The lad drew pettishly away from the caress of his fond mother, as he replied,