“There is but one thing more, sir,” said I, turning back from the door. “There are several articles belonging to me in my bed room; I have given them to the youngest apprentice, and I wish he may have your sanction to retain them; here is a list of them.” He took the list: I left the room, walked hastily through the hall, and shut the street door as I went out—I shut out the whole twelve years from my memory.
It was a clear, cold, bright day; the frost had been out of the ground for some time, so that the roads were dry and the walking pleasant, but the sense of freedom was exquisite. “What,” said I, “no calls upon my time, no hurry, no driving? can I call this blessed day my own? is that my sun? that glorious sun which goes careering through the sky, and shedding its brightness all around, filling my eyes with the beautiful pictures which it illuminates?” And thus I went on, step by step, rejoicing, my enraptured soul drinking in new cause for exultation at every turn.
In the whole twelve years I had never eaten a meal out of Mr. Bartlett’s house, nor had I ever been within the walls of any other house than his, so strictly did I keep within the limits of my duty. I was exceedingly shy, therefore, of entering a public house, although my hunger was beginning to make itself felt. But I conquered my timidity, and entering a house of entertainment I called for dinner. I was ushered into a neat room, and in the course of half an hour was served with what appeared to me then an excellent dinner. I was covered with confusion because the host would wait on me, and I was equally embarrassed with the services of a good-natured waiter, who bowed low when I paid for the dinner, and still lower when I refused to take the half dollar change.
I was now completely in the country, and in the neighbourhood of the place that gave me birth. Having a faint recollection of the house in which my parents lived, I determined, if I ever was rich enough, that I would purchase it; for visions of a beautiful river, and a waterfall, and every variety of romantic scenery, were constantly floating before me; and then there was the inspiration of my mother to heighten the picture. I reached the spot at nightfall, and engaged lodgings at the inn—not the one that you now see at the head of the briery lane, but further on; it was destroyed by fire about four years ago; you must all recollect it. Here I remained three weeks, going over the haunts of my early childhood—infancy, I might say—and reviving the almost faded images, by being amongst the same scenes. The willow and the aspen tree, near my spring house, O’Brien helped me to plant when I was about six years old, and under the large elm I used to lie when I first began to read. You need not be surprised that I purchased this little estate as soon as I had the means of doing so; I contemplated it from the moment I entered Mr. Bartlett’s employment, and it was a project that never ceased to occupy my thoughts. The house was small, but substantially built; it is the one on the edge of the common, in which Martha’s brother lives; and I keep it in neat repair, as I also do the garden in which my father worked; these fine apple trees are of his planting. I made several attempts to purchase the little property which once belonged to my poor godfather, but it belonged to an old man by the name of Banks; he added it to the Oak Valley farm, which I do not regret now, as it has fallen into the hands of our excellent neighbours, Mr. and Mrs. Webb.
I knew the precise spot where my parents were buried, for poor Patrick had described it accurately, making a drawing of it upon a piece of paper which I shall preserve to the day of my death; I therefore placed a tomb stone to each grave, with an inscription that satisfied my ardent feelings, but which I have since replaced with others more suited to their humble merits and my more mature judgment. Patrick’s grave was about a mile from the city, and, with Mr. Bartlett’s assent, I had caused a neat stone to be put over it, as many as six years before this period.
My hard hearted old nurse was then and is still living; that fine, promising boy that was lost at sea, and in whom you all took such an interest, was her only child; for his sake I allow her a small yearly sum, but she has no idea that I am the one that she so cruelly gave up to the ill usage of the poor creatures around her. Poor Patrick, how he hated her; she even taunted him when she afterwards saw him with me, pretending to wonder why he did not dress me in such fine clothes as formerly. He had, in his days of wealth, bought me a hobby horse, the skeleton of which I found about three years ago in an old barn, and which I knew immediately, for the initials of my name were carved underneath by him; it is in complete order again. How it would gratify the poor, kind old man, were he living, for he would know the motives which influenced me in this trifling act.
What a tumult of mind I was in during these three weeks! The country had not the tranquillizing effect that I expected, for I was striving to recall far-gone images and thoughts; I went to every old tree, to the brook, to the river, to the church, and to the pew in which my parents sat, for of this too I had inquired of Patrick. I thought my all of happiness was centred in this one place, and that, though human sympathy was denied me, I might here pass the remainder of my days in peace and quiet, worshipping my Maker, and in doing good to the poor creatures around me. But the money was to be made to purchase these blessings, for I had but eighteen hundred dollars, and it required as many thousands to accomplish this desirable object, and Patrick’s last injunction for ever rung in my ears—“never be idle.”
I tore myself away from this cherished spot, and walked back again to the city just in time to get in one of the cars for New York, where I arrived the same afternoon. After I had looked at the curiosities which were, to me, so thickly scattered about, I thought it quite time to commence work in earnest. I therefore called on a printer by the name of Blagge and offered my services. He happened, luckily, to be in want of a proof reader, and without entering into any definite agreement, I commenced the work, he having meanwhile written to Mr. Bartlett, that he might be sure of the genuineness of the letter of recommendation. Mr. Blagge was quite pleased with my care and industry, as well as with my knowledge of the subject matter of the work; he said that he could now bring out a book which he had long wished to publish, but that his proof readers were, in general, so profoundly ignorant of science, that he was unwilling to undertake it. I begged him to defer it until the ensuing spring, that I intended to improve myself by attending the lectures, and that I should then be better able to take charge of the work. Meantime he gave me four hundred dollars a year, with a promise of presenting me with tickets to such of the lectures as I chose to attend.
My companions in the office were civil, nay, respectful; for I came amongst them under favourable circumstances, and Mr. Blagge’s kind manner towards me had a great effect on them. But they were not suited to me; I looked from one to the other in vain for one of congenial mind; they were all industrious, and some ambitious; but their minds were a blank, and their pursuits, when disengaged from their business, were of a low order. Not one could I find that loved to walk out in the country for the sake of breathing pure air, and of enjoying the soft, tender scenes of nature; their pleasures lay in eating cellars where the best suppers could be had for their limited means, and in playing at some low pastime night after night, such as Domino, All-fours, Vingtun, and other games of chance; and on Sundays to take a sail, or something, in fact, which tended to demoralize rather than improve.
Mr. Blagge was, as I observed, respectful and kind, but he was full of cares and anxieties, having a very large family to support, and with but slender means; in fact, he had been very much embarrassed, and was just recovering from it. It was not to be supposed that he could interest himself in the feelings of a young man with whom he had so slight an acquaintance—one, likewise, who did not ask for his sympathy. I therefore moved on in silence, occupying myself at leisure hours in learning the French and Latin languages, which, with the help of good teachers and books I was enabled to do in the course of a few months. This was a delightful occupation to me, and I soon overcame all the difficulties, excepting the pronunciation, which I was unable to accomplish, as I had no one with whom I could converse. I learned the Latin that I might more fully comprehend the meaning of the technical terms made use of in all the works of science, and which I considered it absolutely necessary to do, as I was so soon to take charge of the reputation of the great forthcoming work.