And then as she came to bid him good-night:
“There, there; go to bed, child, and don’t forget your lessons.”
Not she, bless her! Why she never forgot a single lesson the school-master taught her—she had every word by heart!
At length the Golden Age was ready to burst like a blazing star upon this dull coppery world, and was the most sublime thing, in the opinion of its author, that was ever written—and who, pray, could be a better judge!
Now Mr. Lillie having some conception of the ignorance of the critics, having once (although it is a great secret,) sent a huge MSS. to the Harpers, which was pronounced “stuff”—it might have been very good stuff notwithstanding—resolved that ere he essayed the publishers, he would give his unique poem in all its unfledged beauty to his native village. It was a capital idea. It should be delivered before the Lyceum to an astonished audience. He could then have some faint idea perhaps of the applause which awaited its appearance in 12mo., calf and gilt.
One evening he dispatched a hasty note to our young school-master, and requested to see him immediately upon business of a private nature.
Heavens how poor Harry trembled as he perused this terrible summons! All was discovered then—Mr. Lillie knew of his presumptuous love, and had sent to banish him forever from the presence of May. And then our little heroine—into what an agony of doubt and apprehension was she thrown, as she read the billet which Harry contrived to slip into her hand.
At the hour appointed, with an unsteady hand, Harry knocked at the door of Mr. Lillie’s library. The great Diogenes himself appeared at the threshhold—and imagine the surprise of our hero to be greeted with:
“Come in, come in, my dear sir—I am most happy to see you,” (shaking him warmly by the hand.) “Sit down, Mr. Warren,” (motioning to a seat at the table of the gods.) “It has long been my wish to know you better than my very limited time would allow—my pursuits” (glancing complacently around him,) “are a great bar to social intercourse. The muses, Mr. Warren, the muses I find are very jealous ladies—do you cultivate their acquaintance? No? Ah, I am surprised, for I assure you I have formed a very high opinion of your talents.”
Harry bowed, and said something about honor, &c., &c.