[Illustration: EASTNOR CASTLE.]
On the Castle terrace we went through a long, narrow curve in a turret to seek a broader esplanade. As we approached it I felt wrought up in my mind, a little uncertain in my motions; and for that reason, on a small scale, my quick imagination put before me pictures of a “standing from under” on the part of the machine and damaging bruises against the pitiless walls. But with a little unobtrusive guiding by one who knew better than I how to do it we soon came out of the dim passage on to the broad, bright terrace we sought, and in an instant my fears were as much left behind as if I had not had them. So it will be, I think, I hope—nay, I believe—when, children that we are, we tremble on the brink and fear to launch away; but we shall find that death is only a bend in the river of life that sets the current heavenward.
One afternoon, on the terrace at Eastnor Castle—the most delightful bicycle gallery I [30] ]have found anywhere—I fell to talking with a young companion about New-Year resolutions. It was just before Christmas, but the sky was of that moist blue that England only knows, and the earth almost steamy in the mild sunshine, while the soft outline of the famous Malvern Hills was restful as the little lake just at our feet, where swans were sailing or anchoring according to their fancy.
One of us said: “I have already chosen my motto for 1894, and it is this, from a teacher who so often said to her pupils, when meeting them in corridor or recitation-room, ‘I have heard something nice about you,’ that it passed into a proverb in the school. Now I have determined that my mental attitude toward everybody shall be the same that these words indicate. The meaning is identical with that of the inscription on the fireplace in my den at home—‘Let something good be said.’ I remember mentioning to a literary friend that this was what I had chosen, and so far was he from perceiving [31] ]my intention that he sarcastically remarked, ‘Are you then afraid that people will say dull things unless you set this rule before them?’ But my thought then was as it is now, that we should apply in our discussions of people and things the rule laid down by Coleridge, namely, ‘Look for the good in everything that you behold and every person, but do not decline to see the defects if they are there, and to refer to them.’”
“That is an excellent motto,” brightly replied the other, “but if we followed it life would not be nearly so amusing as it is now. I have several friends whose rule is never to say any harm of anybody, and to my mind this cripples their development, for the tendency of such a method is to dull one’s powers of discrimination.”
“But,” said the first speaker, “would not a medium course be better?—such a one, for instance, as my motto suggests. This would not involve keeping silence about the faults of persons and things, but would [32] ]develop that cheerful atmosphere which helps to smooth the rough edges of life, and at the same time does not destroy the critical faculty, because you are to tell the truth and the whole truth concerning those around you, whereas the common custom is to speak much of defects and little or not at all of merits.”
“Yes,” was the reply, “but it is not half so entertaining to speak of virtues as of faults, especially in this country; if you don’t criticize you can hardly talk at all, because the English dwell a great deal on what we in America call ‘the selvage side’ of things.”
“Have you, then, noticed this as a national peculiarity after ten years of observation?”
“Yes; and I have often heard it remarked, not only by our own countrymen, but by the people here.”
“What do you think explains it?”