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diff --git a/75652-h/75652-h.htm b/75652-h/75652-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..bb94fc0 --- /dev/null +++ b/75652-h/75652-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,3136 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html> +<html lang="en"> + +<head> + +<link rel="icon" href="images/img-cover.jpg" type="image/x-cover"> + +<meta charset="utf-8"> + +<title> +The Project Gutenberg eBook of The old man's home, +by William Adams +</title> + +<style> + +body { color: black; + background: white; + margin-right: 10%; + margin-left: 10%; + font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; + text-align: justify } + +p {text-indent: 1.5em } + +p.noindent {text-indent: 0% } + +p.t1 {text-indent: 0% ; + font-size: 200%; + text-align: center } + +p.t2 {text-indent: 0% ; + font-size: 150%; + text-align: center } + +p.t2b {text-indent: 0% ; + font-size: 150%; + font-weight: bold; + text-align: center } + +p.t3 {text-indent: 0% ; + font-size: 100%; + text-align: center } + +p.t3b {text-indent: 0% ; + font-size: 100%; + font-weight: bold; + text-align: center } + +p.t4 {text-indent: 0% ; + font-size: 80%; + text-align: center } + +p.t4b {text-indent: 0% ; + font-size: 80%; + font-weight: bold; + text-align: center } + +p.t5 {text-indent: 0% ; + font-size: 60%; + text-align: center } + +h1 { text-align: center } +h2 { text-align: center } +h3 { text-align: center } +h4 { text-align: center } +h5 { text-align: center } + +p.poem {text-indent: 0%; + font-size: 85%; + margin-left: 10%; } + +p.thought {text-indent: 0% ; + letter-spacing: 2em ; + text-align: center } + +p.letter {text-indent: 0%; + margin-left: 10% ; + margin-right: 10% } + +p.footnote {text-indent: 0% ; + font-size: 80%; + margin-left: 10% ; + margin-right: 10% } + +.smcap { font-variant: small-caps } + +p.transnote {text-indent: 0% ; + margin-left: 10% ; + margin-right: 10% } + +p.quote {text-indent: 4% ; + margin-left: 0% ; + margin-right: 0% } + +p.finis { font-size: larger ; + text-align: center ; + text-indent: 0% ; + margin-left: 0% ; + margin-right: 0% } + +p.capcenter { margin-left: 0; + margin-right: 0 ; + margin-bottom: .5% ; + margin-top: 0; + font-weight: normal; + float: none ; + clear: both ; + text-indent: 0%; + text-align: center } + +img.imgcenter { margin-left: auto; + margin-bottom: 0; + margin-top: 1%; + margin-right: auto; } + +</style> + +</head> + +<body> +<div style='text-align:center'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 75652 ***</div> + +<p><br><br></p> + +<p class="capcenter"> +<a id="img-front"></a> +<br> +<img class="imgcenter" src="images/img-front.jpg" alt=""And I also shall go home." Page 31"> +<br> +"And I also shall go home." <a href="#p31">Page 31</a> +</p> + +<h1> +<br><br> + THE<br> + OLD MAN'S HOME.<br> +</h1> + +<p><br></p> + +<p class="t3"> + BY THE REV. WILLIAM ADAMS, M. A.<br> +</p> + +<p class="t4"> + AUTHOR OF "THE SHADOW OF THE CROSS,"<br> + AND "THE DISTANT HILLS," ETC.<br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p class="t3"> + With Engravings from Original Designs,<br> + BY WEIR.<br> +</p> + +<p><br><br></p> + +<p class="t3"> + NEW-YORK:<br> + GENERAL PROT. EPISCOPAL S. S. UNION,<br> + DANIEL DANA, Jr., AGENT,<br> + Depository 20 John Street.<br> + 1848.<br> +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<hr> + +<p> +ENTERED according to act of Congress, in the year 1847, by +JOHN W. MITCHELL, (as TREASURER of the General Protestant +Episcopal Sunday School Union,) in the Office of the Clerk +of the United States District Court for the Southern District +of New York. +</p> + +<hr> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p class="t4"> + TO<br> +</p> + +<p class="t3"> + JOHN ADAMS,<br> +</p> + +<p class="t4"> + Serjeant at Law,<br> +<br> + AS A MARK OF FILIAL GRATITUDE<br> +<br> + And Affection,<br> +<br> + THIS VOLUME IS INSCRIBED<br> +<br> + BY<br> +</p> + +<p class="t3"> + THE AUTHOR.<br> +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p class="t4"> + FOR THEY<br> +<br> + THAT SAY SUCH THINGS<br> +<br> + DECLARE PLAINLY<br> +<br> + THAT THEY SEEK A COUNTRY.<br> +<br> + HEB. xi, 14.<br> +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p><a id="chap01"></a></p> + +<p class="t2 gothic"> +The Old Man's Home. +</p> + +<p><br><br></p> + +<h3> +CHAPTER I. +</h3> + +<p class="poem"> + Each in his hidden sphere of joy or woe,<br> + Our hermit spirits dwell and range apart;<br> + Our eyes see all around in gloom or glow—<br> + Hues of their own, fresh borrow'd from the heart<br> + CHRISTIAN YEAR.<br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p> +There is a scene on the coast of the +Isle of Wight with which I have long +since become familiar, but which never +fails to exercise a soothing influence on +my mind. It is at the eastern +extremity of the landslip. Large portions +of the cliff have fallen away, and formed +a dell so broken and irregular, that the +ground has the appearance of having at +one time been agitated by an earthquake. +But Nature has only suffered the +convulsion to take place, in order that +afterwards she might bestow her gifts +upon this favoured spot with a more +unsparing hand. The wild and +picturesque character of the landscape is +now almost lost sight of in its richness +and repose. The new soil is protected +from the storms of winter by the cliff +from which it has fallen, and, sloping +towards the south, is open to the full +warmth and radiance of the sun. In +consequence of this, the landslip has +as it were, a climate of its own; and +often when the more exposed parts of +the country still look dreary and +desolate, is in the enjoyment of the +blessings of an early spring. Such +was the season at which I first visited it. +The grey fragments of rock which lay +scattered on the ground are almost hid +by the luxuriance of the underwood, +and countless wild flowers were +growing beneath their shade. Below, the +eye rested upon a little bay, formed by +the gradual advance of the sea; and +all was so calm and peaceful, that as I +watched the gentle undulation of the +waters, I could fancy them to be +moving to and fro with a stealthy step, +lest they should disturb the tranquillity +of the scene. +</p> + +<p> +I have said that a visit to this +favoured spot never fails with me to have +a soothing influence. I feel as though +I were treading on enchanted ground, +and the whole scene were allegorical; +for it reminds me that, in like manner, +the wreck of all our earthly hopes and +plans may but lay open our hearts to +the influence of a warmer sunshine, and +enrich them with flowers which the +storms of life have no longer power to +destroy. But I cannot now tell whether +these thoughts have their origin in the +scene itself, or in an incident that +occurred the first time I visited it. +</p> + +<p> +It was on the evening of the 18th of +April, 1843. I had been long gazing +upon it, and had imagined that I was +alone, when my attention was arrested +by a sigh from some one near me. I +turned round, and saw a venerable old +man seated upon a fragment of the +fallen cliff, beneath which the violets +were very thickly clustering. His hair +was white as silver; his face deeply +furrowed, and yet pervaded by a general +expression of childish simplicity, which +formed a strong contrast to the lines +which must have been indented upon it +by care and suffering, no less than the +lapse of years. I cannot recall the +words of the chance observation which +I addressed to him; but it related to the +lateness and inclemency of the season, +and I was at once struck by the singularity +of his reply: "Yes, yes," he said, +musingly, "the winter has indeed been +very long and dreary; and yet it has +been gladdened, from time to time, by +glimpses of the coming spring." +</p> + +<p> +I now observed him more closely. +There was a strangeness in his dress +which first excited my suspicion, and I +fancied that I could detect a restlessness +in his light blue eye which spoke +of a mind that had gone astray. "Old +man," I said, "you seem tired; have +you come from far?" +</p> + +<p> +"Ah, woe is me," he replied, in the +same melancholy tone as before; "I +have indeed travelled a long and solitary +journey; and at times I am weary, very +weary; but my resting-place now must +be near at hand." +</p> + +<p> +"And whither, then," I asked, "are you going?" +</p> + +<p> +"Home, sir, home," he replied; +and while his voice lost its sadness, +his face seemed to brighten and his +eye grow steady at the thought; "I +hope and believe that I am going home." +</p> + +<p> +I now imagined that I had judged +him hastily, and that the answers which +I had ascribed to a wandering intellect +proceeded in truth from depth of +religious feeling. In order to ascertain +this, I asked: "Have you been long +a traveller?" +</p> + +<p> +"Four score and thirteen years," he +replied; and observing my look of +assumed wonder, he repeated a second +time, more slowly and sadly than before, +"Four score and thirteen years." +</p> + +<p> +"The home," I said, "must be very +far off that requires so long a journey." +</p> + +<p> +"Nay, nay, kind sir, do not speak +thus," he answered: "our home is never +far off; and I might perhaps have arrived +at it years and years ago. But often +during the early spring I stopped to +gather the flowers that grew beneath my +feet; and once I laid me down and fell +asleep upon the way. And so more than +four score and thirteen years have been +wanted to bring me to the home which +many reach in a few days. Alas! all +whom I love most dearly have long +since passed me on the road, and I am +now left to finish my journey alone." +</p> + +<p> +During this reply, I had become +altogether ashamed of my former suspicion, +and I now looked into the old man's +face with a feeling of reverence and +love. The features were unchanged; +but instead of the childish expression +which I had before observed, I believed +them to be brightened with the heavenliness +of the second childhood, while +the restlessness of the light blue eye +only spoke to me of an imagination +which loved to wander amid the treasures +of the unseen world. I purposely, +however, continued the conversation +under the same metaphor as before. +"You have not, then," I said, "been +always a solitary traveller?" +</p> + +<p> +"Ah, no," he replied: "for a few +years a dear wife was walking step by +step at my side; and there were little +children, too, who were just beginning +to follow us. And I was so happy then, +that I sometimes forgot we were but +travellers, and fancied that I had found +a home. But my wife, sir, never forgot +it. She would again and again remind +me that 'we must so live together in +this life, that in the world to come we +might have life everlasting.' They are +words that I scarcely regarded at the +time, but I love to repeat them now. +They speak to me of meeting her again +at the end of our journey." +</p> + +<p> +"And have all your children left +you?" I asked. +</p> + +<p> +"All, all," he replied. "My wife +took them with her when she went +away. She stayed with me, sir, +but six years, and left me on the +very day on which she came. It +seems strange now that I could have +lived with them day after day without +a thought that they were so near their +journey's end, while I should travel +onward so many winters alone. It is +now sixty years since they all went +home, and have been waiting for me +there. But, sir, I often think that the +time, which has seemed so long and +dreary to me, has passed away like a +few short hours to them." +</p> + +<p> +"And are you sure, then," I said, +"that they are all gone home?" It was +a thoughtless question, and I repented +the words almost before they were +spoken. The tears rose quickly in the +old man's eyes, and his voice trembled +with emotion, as he replied: "Oh! sir, +do not bid me doubt it. Surely, +every one of them is gone home; one, +at least, of the number is undoubtedly +there; and they all went away together, +as though they were travelling to the +same place; besides, sir, my wife was +constantly speaking to them of their +home; and would not their journey as +well as my own have been prolonged, +if their home had not been ready for +them? And when I think of them, I +always think of home; am I not, then, +right in believing that all of them are +there?" +</p> + +<p> +There were allusions in this answer +which I did not at the time understand; +but the old man's grief was too sacred +for me to intrude further upon it. I felt, +also, that any words of my own would +be too feeble to calm the agitation +which my thoughtless observation had +caused. I merely repeated a passage +from holy Scripture, in reply, "Blessed +are the dead that die in the Lord, even +so saith the Spirit, for they rest from +their labours." +</p> + +<p> +The old man's face again brightened, +and as he wiped away the tears, he +added, "And 'Blessed,' also, 'are they +that mourn, for they shall be comforted.' There +is not only a blessing for those +who have been taken to their rest, but +there is the image of that blessing to +cheer the old man who is left to pursue +his solitary journey." +</p> + +<p> +At this moment, the sun, which had +been obscured by a passing cloud, +suddenly shone forth, and its rays were +reflected by a path of gold in the silent +waters. The old man pointed to it +with a quiet smile; the change was in +such harmony with his own thoughts, +that I do not wonder at the metaphor +it suggested to him. "There," said +he, "is the blessing of the mourner! +See! how it shines down from the +heaven above, and gilds with its +radiance the dreary sea of life." +</p> + +<p> +"True," I replied; "and the sea of +life would be no longer dreary, if it +were not for the passing clouds which +at times keep back from it the light +of Heaven." His immediate answer +to this observation proved the image +which he had employed, to be one long +familiar to his own mind. "There +are indeed clouds," he said, "but they +are never in Heaven; they hover very +near the earth; and it is only because +our sight is so dim and indistinct that +they seem to be in the sky." +</p> + +<p> +A silence of some minutes followed +this remark. I was, in truth, anxious +that the old man should pursue the +metaphor farther. But the gleam of +light passed away as the sun sunk +behind the western hills. His feelings +appeared to undergo a corresponding +change, and he exclaimed, hastily, +"The day is fast drawing to a close; +and the night must be near at hand: +I must hasten onward on my journey. +Come, kind sir, and I will show you +where my friends are waiting for me." +</p> + +<p> +I was wondering whether he now +spoke metaphorically or not, when my +thoughts were suddenly turned into a +new channel, and my former painful +suspicions returned. As the old man +leant upon his staff, his wrists became +exposed to view, and I saw that they +were marked with deep blue lines, +which could only have been caused by +the galling of a chain in former years. +</p> + +<p> +The poor wanderer observed the +look I gave them. A sudden flush of +shame overspread his countenance, and +he hurriedly drew down his garment to +conceal them. It was, however, but a +momentary impulse; he again exposed +them to my view, and himself gazed +sadly upon them, as he said, "Why +should I try to hide them, when they +are left there to remind me constantly +of my true condition? For in times +past I have borne the pressure of more +wearing bonds than those; and though +I have been released from them now, +no one can tell how dark and deep is +the stain that they have left upon the +soul." Something more he added, but +his eye was turned meekly towards +Heaven, and it was only from the +movement of his lips that I fancied +I could trace the words of the prayer, +"Though we be tied and bound with +the chain of our sins, yet let the +pitifulness of Thy great mercy loose us." +</p> + +<p> +He now began to move slowly +forward. The ground was rough and +uneven, and his step so very feeble, +that I expected every instant to see +him fall. He struck his foot against +a stone, and I sprang forward to his +assistance. "Thank you, kind sir," he +said, in his quiet way; "but do not +fear for me; my own frail limbs could +not support me for an instant: but I +have a staff on which I lean; and +though I may stumble at times, I +cannot fall." +</p> + +<p> +Again I was in doubt whether to +interpret his words literally or not; +but my belief was that the old man +almost unconsciously used the +language of allegory. Long habit had +so taught him to blend together the +seen and the unseen world, that he +could not separate them. Life was +to him a mirror, and in the passing +objects of sight and sense, he never +failed to recognise the images of +spiritual things. +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p><a id="chap02"></a></p> + +<h3> +CHAPTER II. +</h3> + +<p class="poem"> + So wanderers, ever fond and true,<br> + Look homeward through the evening sky,<br> + Without a streak of heaven's soft blue,<br> + To aid affection's dreaming eye.<br> + CHRISTIAN YEAR.<br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p> +At the conclusion of the last chapter I +gave the opinion that I formed of the +old man from the brief conversation I +myself had with him. The following +incident cast, as it were, a shadow upon +it, and robbed it of its brightness, but +did not really alter it. My intercourse +with him was brought to a sudden and +painful conclusion. It was at my +persuasion that he crossed a stile which +separated the wild scenery of the +landslip from the public road leading to the +little village of B——. I thought it +would be easier for him to walk along +the more beaten track. He had yielded +with apparent reluctance to my request. +His unwillingness appeared to proceed +from instinct rather than reason. It +may in part have arisen from a kind of +natural sympathy which attracted him +to that wild luxuriant spot; in part from +an unconscious dread of the danger to +which he actually became exposed. +He simply said, "This smooth way +was not made for the like of me, kind +sir; but under your protection I will +venture along it." +</p> + +<p> +Alas! I little thought of the kind of +protection he required. We had +advanced but a few hundred yards, and +had just reached the summit of the hill +which commanded the first view of the +village church. The old man had +paused for a little while, and appeared +to gaze upon it with a feeling of the +most intense interest; I was afraid, even +by a passing question, to interrupt the +quiet current of his thoughts; when +the silence was suddenly broken by the +creaking of a cart-wheel, which grated +harshly on my ear; and almost before +I could look round, I heard a voice of +rude triumph behind me, crying out, +"There he is—there he is—there goes +the old boy! Stop him, stop him, sir! he +is mad." +</p> + +<p> +I have no heart to describe the scene +that followed: the poor wanderer +shuffled forward, with a nervous, hurried +step; but in a few seconds the cart +was at his side; the driver immediately +jumped out, and, seizing him by the +collar, with many a rude word and +coarse jest, tried to force him to enter +it. For a moment, surprise and +indignation deprived me of speech, for I had +began to regard the old man with such +a feeling of reverent love, that it almost +seemed to me like a profanation of holy +ground. When, however, he turned his +eyes towards me, with an imploring +look, I recovered myself sufficiently to +demand by what authority he dared +thus molest an inoffensive traveller on +his journey. In my inmost heart, I +dreaded the answer I should probably +receive; neither was my foreboding +wrong; the man laughed rudely as he +replied, "He has been mad, quite mad, +for more than fifty years; he escaped +this morning from the Asylum, and one +of the keepers has been with me all +day long scouring the country in search +of him." +</p> + +<p> +It was in vain that I sought a pretext +for disbelieving the truth of the story. +I could not help feeling that it did but +confirm a suspicion which, in spite of +myself, had kept crossing my own +mind; for the bright colouring which +was shed by faith on the thoughts and +words of the old man was not alone a +sufficient evidence that they were under +the guidance of reason. Yet, of one +thing, at least, I felt sure, that, +whatever were the state of his intellect, it +could be no imaginary cause that now +so strongly moved him. My heart bled +for him, as I listened to the pathetic +earnestness with which he implored the +protection that I was unable to afford. +He even forgot to use the language +of metaphor in the agony of his grief. +"Indeed, indeed, sir," he said, "they +call me mad, but do not believe them, +for I am not mad now. There, there," +he added, pointing towards the church, +"my wife and children are waiting for +me. It was on this very day that they +went away, and we have now been +parted sixty years. I have travelled +very far to join them once again before +I die. Oh, have pity upon me! I only +ask for one little half hour, that I may +go on in peace to the end of my +journey." +</p> + +<p> +Large drops of moisture trembled on +his forehead as he uttered these words; +his whole face became convulsed with +emotion, and he clung with such +intensity to my garment, that his rude +assailant tried in vain to unloose his +grasp. The man himself was evidently +frightened by the agitation which his +own violence had caused, and appeared +doubtful how to proceed, when the +scene was fortunately interrupted by +the arrival of his companion. +</p> + +<p> +He was the keeper who had been +sent from the Asylum with the cart, but +had left it in order to search the +pathway which led through the landslip. +His look and manner afforded a striking +contrast to those of the first comer, +who proved to be merely the owner +of the vehicle, which had been hired +for the occasion. Immediately on his +arrival, he reprimanded him for his +rude treatment of the old man, and +insisted on his returning to the cart, +and desisting from all farther +interference. My hopes were greatly raised +by this, and I flattered myself that I +should now have little difficulty in +obtaining for the poor wanderer the +indulgence which he sought. But I +soon found my mistake; and, under +the irritated feelings of the moment, +almost preferred the rude conduct of +the first comer to the quiet determination +with which his companion listened +to my request. +</p> + +<p> +He merely smiled at the account I +gave of my own interview with the +old man; and when I suggested that +it contained no evidence of insanity, +shook his head, and replied, "You do +not know poor Robin. His notions +about home are the peculiar feature +of his madness; but you are not the +first person that has been deceived by +them." +</p> + +<p> +He spoke in a low tone, as though he +were anxious not to be overheard. But +the precaution seemed unnecessary; for, +though the old man had mechanically +retained his grasp on my garments, he +was now looking eagerly towards the +village church, and I could see, from +the expression of his countenance, that +his thoughts had passed away from the +scene around him. +</p> + +<p> +When I found my arguments of no +avail, I changed my ground, and +besought as a favour that he would make +the trial of letting the old man proceed +to the end of his journey, and trust to +his promise to return quietly from +thence. "Sir," he replied, in a louder +voice, "I should have no more hesitation +in trusting the word of poor Robin +than your own. He never deceived +me; and, under ordinary circumstances, +I would at once grant his request; but +the hour is late, and, as it is, the night +will close in upon us before we can +get back to the town of N——. The +responsibility will rest upon me, if +mischief should arise from any +additional delay. I am sure Robin himself +would not desire it." As he said this, +he turned towards the old man, but his +countenance was unchanged, his eye +still fixed upon the church, and he +either had not heard the words at all, +or they had failed to convey any +distinct impression to his mind. +</p> + +<p> +After a pause, I again renewed my +entreaties, urging that it would at least +be a better plan than having recourse +to violence, which must eventually +produce a far more serious delay. "Of +course," said the attendant, "anything +is better than having recourse to +violence." "Then," said I, "you accede +to my request?" "Only," replied he, +with a provoking smile, "in case all +other methods fail; but as the delay +would be a real inconvenience to us, +you must permit me first to try my +powers of persuasion. Let me now +beg of you, whatever surprise you may +feel, to be careful to express none." He +again lowered his voice as he said +these words, and, in spite of the dislike +inspired by the self-confidence of his +manner, and of other stronger emotions, +my curiosity was excited to know how +he would proceed. He placed himself +opposite to the old man, so as to +intercept his view of the village, and then, +having fixed his eye calmly and +stedfastly upon him, with an appearance of +real interest, thus soothingly addressed +him:—"I would gladly go on with you, +Robin; but am sure you are under some +mistake. Your wife and children cannot +be in yonder village,—they are not +there, they are at home. Come quietly +with me now, and perhaps this evening +you may go home also." +</p> + +<p> +These simple words touched some +hidden chord in the old man's heart, +and their effect was almost magical. +All other feelings passed away, and I +forgot the presence of his companions, +as I watched the change which they +produced. His features became +composed, his hand relaxed its hold, and +his voice resumed its former tranquil +tone, as he slowly repeated: "They +are not there, they are at home; they +are not there, they are at home. True, +very true, they are not there, they are +at home." +</p> + +<p> +<a id="p31"></a> +Presently he raised his eyes to +Heaven, and the attendants, no less than +myself, were overawed by the solemnity +of his manner. There was a silence of +a few seconds, during which he seemed +to listen intently; and then, as though +he had heard some echo from above, +which confirmed the hope that had +been held out to him, he confidently +added: "And I also shall go home,—and +this very evening I shall be there." +</p> + +<p> +While I was still pondering on these +words, the old man had of his own +accord quietly placed himself in the +cart, and his companions had seated +themselves by his side. They were +on the point of driving off before the +thought occurred to me of offering him +money. I drew out my purse, half +expecting him to refuse the proffered +gift; and it was with a strong feeling +of disappointment that I observed the +look of satisfaction, almost amounting +to eagerness, with which he took the +silver from my hand. I said within +myself, "Can it be, then, that the taint +of covetousness is to be found in a +mind from which every earthly +affection seems so entirely to have been +withdrawn?" But I wronged him by +the thought. The money was immediately +taken from him, and he resigned +it to another no less gladly than he had +received it from me. "It will not do," +said the keeper, "to let him have it +himself: he will merely give it away +to the first beggar that he meets. He +has not the slightest notion of the real +value of money. It shall be laid out +for his benefit; and till then it will be +safe in my keeping." +</p> + +<p> +My countenance may have expressed +dissatisfaction at the change, though, in +truth, I had no objection to make to it. +But the old man himself interrupted me +before I could reply, and said, "Do not +be afraid, kind sir, whether it remain +with me or him; your treasure will be +safe, quite safe; it matters not now +whether it remain with me or him;" +and then added, in a more solemn tone, +"safe 'where neither rust nor moth doth +corrupt, and where thieves do not break +through and steal.' I will take it home +with me; and when you also go home, +you will find it there." And I now +understood how it was for my sake that +he had so gladly welcomed the gift; +and I thought, too, that if in truth money +had a real value at all, it must be the +one which was assigned to it by him. +</p> + +<p> +The men were in a hurry to depart, +and I was now forced to bid adieu to +the old man. He appeared so sorry to +leave me, that I promised on the +morrow to come and see him. I did not +like to use the word Asylum, so I said +at his dwelling-place. The expression +at once caught his ear, and re-awakened +the train of thought which my gift had +interrupted for a time. +</p> + +<p> +"Not in my dwelling-place," he said, +"for to-morrow I shall not be there. If +you see me again, kind stranger, it must +be at home. May God bless you, and +guide you on your way." The cart was +already in motion, but he looked back +once more, and waved his hand as he +said, "Good bye, sir. Remember that +we all are going home!" +</p> + +<p> +They were the last words I heard +him speak, and it is perhaps from that +cause that they made so strong an +impression on my mind; for often since +then, when I have been tempted to +wander from the right path, or murmur +as I walked along it, I have thought +upon the old man's parting warning, +and asked myself the question, "Am +I not going home?" +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p><a id="chap03"></a></p> + +<h3> +CHAPTER III. +</h3> + +<p class="poem"> + Two worlds are ours: 'tis only Sin<br> + Forbids us to descry<br> + The mystic heaven and earth within,<br> + Plain as the sea and sky.<br> + CHRISTIAN YEAR.<br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p> +Very early on the following morning +I proceeded on foot to the town of +N——. The scenery through which I +passed was rich and beautiful, but it +was lost upon me at the time; for there +were busy thoughts within which would +not suffer my eye to rest on any external +object. I was on my way to visit the +old man, and had a presentiment, almost +amounting to conviction, that I should +not find him alive. The words, "I also +shall go home, and this very evening +I shall be there," in spite of myself, +kept recurring to my mind. It was to +no purpose that I endeavoured to set +them aside, as part of the wanderings +of a disordered intellect: there was a +solemnity in the look and manner of the +poor wanderer, which gave a reality +to their meaning; and I believed the +shadow of the future to have been resting +on his spirit at the time he spoke +them. +</p> + +<p> +These fears gradually increased as +I approached the Asylum. At the +entrance, there stood a little girl, +weeping as though her heart would break. +A woman, who appeared to be her +mother, was trying in vain to comfort +her. Her only reply to every caress, +was a fresh burst of sobs and tears. +The scene was so in harmony with my +own thoughts, that the very instant I +saw her, I guessed the cause of her +sorrow. Nor was my conjecture wrong: +the child had dearly loved the old man, +and wept because he was no more. +</p> + +<p> +The father of this girl was the +superintendent of the Asylum. He also was +standing by, and offered to accompany +me through the building. On the way, +he proved very willing to gratify my +curiosity concerning the stranger who +had excited in me so singular an interest. +I soon found him to be an intelligent, +kind-hearted man, who had entered +instinctively into the thoughts and wishes +of poor Robin, and yet had failed to +appreciate what I may call the religion +of his character. His daily familiarity +with the varied forms of insanity, may +in part have been the cause. He had +at once regarded him as a patient +labouring under a peculiar kind of mental +delusion, without looking beyond. In +consequence of this, there was much in +our conversation which grated harshly +on my own feelings. I loved better to +think of the old man as I had first seen +him, sitting in the midst of the +picturesque scenery of the landslip, than +confined within the gloomy walls of +a pauper Asylum. The close rooms +through which we passed, the dull +tones of the superintendent's voice, his +conviction of poor Robin's insanity, and +even the compassionate interest with +which he spoke of him, all interfered +with the brightness of the image which +my own mind had previously formed. +It would have been more in harmony +with my thoughts, to have heard from +the child who was weeping for him, the +simple narrative of the old man's life: +but, perhaps, the contrast in the colouring +of the picture only brings out the +more strongly its intrinsic beauty; and, +for this reason, I will still endeavour to +trace it as it was first presented to my +own view. +</p> + +<p> +The outline is soon drawn. Poor +Robin had, for more than half a century, +been an inmate of the Asylum. No one +could tell from whence he had been +brought there, or say anything with +certainty of his previous history. It +was, however, generally believed that +he had known better days, but that +some very heavy affliction had brought +on mental derangement; and that, in +consequence of this, his property had +gradually gone to ruin, until at length +he was consigned to a pauper asylum. +He had been placed there under a very +different system of treatment from that +which now prevails. It had even been +thought necessary, in the first instance, +to confine him with chains and handcuffs: +and he would often struggle, in a +paroxysm of passion, to set himself free. +But after a few years, all the more +violent symptoms of his disorder had +entirely disappeared, and he became so +quiet and resigned, that the physician +had considered it safe to release him +from his bonds, and suffer him to wander +at large within the precincts of the +Asylum. +</p> + +<p> +"There can be no doubt of the facts, +sir," continued my guide, "for the +marks on poor Robin's wrists prove +him to have, at one time, undergone a +very rigorous confinement; and yet, +when I came here, I found that he had +been long in the enjoyment of comparative +freedom. But it is a case that +always perplexes me, when I think of +it; for the general effect of harsh +treatment is to render the patient more +violent and intractable than before: +and I cannot understand from what +cause the change in poor Robin's conduct +could in the first instance have +arisen." +</p> + +<p> +"Do you not think," I asked, "that +it may have been a sign of returning +reason?" He smiled at the question, +as he replied, "So far from it, sir, that it +was accompanied by a new and extraordinary +delusion, which never afterwards +entirely left him. He fancied +that the bonds which he felt and saw, +were merely imaginary, and that there +were other invisible chains which were +the real cause of his confinement. They +say, that from the time this idea once +gained possession of his mind, he made +no farther effort to recover his freedom, +but even thanked the attendants for the +care they were taking of him, and +became as gentle and submissive as a +child." Then I remembered the +metaphor, which the old man had employed +when the marks on his wrists had +attracted my attention; and I said +within myself that it was not indeed +the return of reason, but a brighter and +a far holier light, which had thus shone +on the poor captive, and brought peace +and resignation to his soul. +</p> + +<p> +After his partial release, the manners +and language of Robin had soon excited +observation, and strengthened the belief +that he must at one time have known +better days. It was not, however, till +the milder system of treatment was +introduced generally into the Asylum, +that the full beauty of his character had +developed itself. Since that time, he +had gradually won the affection of many +of the patients, and had become an +object of deep interest to all visitors. +They had often come for the express +purpose of talking with him. "And," +continued my conductor, "I often +listened with wonder to the various +interpretations they put upon his answers. +Some would discover in them poetry; +some, philosophy; some, religion; some, +I know not what, according to the +previous bias of their own minds." I +inquired in what light he himself was +disposed to view them? "As the +wanderings of insanity," he replied; "for +poor Robin was, undoubtedly, mad:" +but presently added, more thoughtfully, +"yet there was something in his peculiar +kind of madness which I could +never exactly fathom." +</p> + +<p> +I asked, whether no friend or relative +had come to inquire after the old man, +during the long period of his confinement? +"No one," answered my conductor; +"and so far, it was a mercy +that he had been deprived of his reason, +since his madness prevented his being +aware of his own solitary condition." +</p> + +<p> +"How do you mean?" I said; +"surely he could not help feeling that +he was alone?" +</p> + +<p> +"On the contrary," he replied, "he +fully believed that he had a wife and +children and home, and would speak, +from day to day, of going to join them. +Poor fellow! at one time, those who +had the care of him would argue with +him, and endeavour to explain to him +that he was under a delusion. And the +old man would soon get confused in his +reasoning, and end by wringing his +hands, in an agony of grief. But, since +I have come here, I have thought it +best to humour him in the belief; and +not only forbidden all contradiction on +this subject, but encouraged the attendants +to talk to him about his home, and +promise, that if he behaved well, he +should go there very soon. You will +hardly believe that I have seen tears of +joy run down his cheeks at these simple +words. Yet some have said, that it was +almost cruel to encourage a hope which +must end in disappointment at last." +</p> + +<p> +"But did it end in disappointment?" +I said, following my own thoughts, +rather than addressing my companion. +He seemed struck by the remark, and, +after a pause, replied, "Why, sir, one +can hardly say that it did; for the hope +seemed to grow stronger, instead of +weaker, as year after year passed by; +and he continued in the same happy +delusion to the very hour of his death. +I have often thought that this imaginary +home was a source of greater joy and +comfort to him than the possession of +any actual home could have been. +When anything vexed or disturbed him, +he would say, that when at home, he +should feel it no more. When he felt +dull and depressed, he would rouse +himself by the thought that he was +going home. I myself have, at times, +felt disposed to envy him his belief: and +there was something very wonderful in +the influence it gave him over his companions." +</p> + +<p> +I inquired, how this belief could +influence others? "Because," said he, +"Robin was unable to separate the +present from the future; and so it was +part of his confusion of ideas to believe +that those with whom he lived here, +would live with him in his home also. +It is the only instance I have known of +a person under the influence of insanity +being able to impart his own views to +his companions. But there seemed to +be a kind of infection in the old man's +madness; and more than one patient, +who had previously been plunged in +hopeless despondency, was gradually +led to take interest in Robin's home. +The effect has been so salutary with +us, that I have often wished the same +happy delusion could be introduced +generally into other asylums." +</p> + +<p> +I was following the deep train of +reflection awakened by this remark, +and wondering how far it might indeed +be possible to graft religion on the +imagination, and so to soothe and cheer +the dreams of insanity with the hope +of Heaven; when my conductor again +resumed the conversation. "There +was, sir," he said, "another delusion +of the old man, scarcely less happy in +its consequences than his belief about +his home. You might have fancied +that, from having once known better +days, he would have felt bitterly the +degradation of his new condition; but +the whole time that he was in the +Asylum he seemed utterly unconscious +that he was dependent on the parish +for support." +</p> + +<p> +"Do you mean," I asked, "that he +imagined something had been preserved +from the wreck of his own property?" +</p> + +<p> +"Not in the least," he replied; "he +was fully aware that his own property +was gone; but he believed his daily +wants to be supplied by a kind of +miracle; and would often observe that +he had gone on for more than fifty years +without making provision for the morrow, +and yet had never known what it +was to be without clothing or food. Of +course, sir, I did everything in my +power to encourage him in the belief: +but, one day, I was greatly annoyed to +find a visitor, who was not aware of the +old man's peculiarities, endeavouring +to explain to him that the parish was +bound to find him support." +</p> + +<p> +"And did he," I asked, "appear +much hurt at the discovery?" +</p> + +<p> +"Fortunately not, sir," he replied; +"and this I own quite took me by +surprise, for I greatly feared lest the +consciousness of his dependence might +destroy that feeling of self-respect, +which, in all cases of insanity, it is +so important to preserve. But Robin +was rather pleased than vexed at the +idea of the parish providing for him. +Presently, however, he grew bewildered, +and shook his head, and said, +that, after all, the parish could not +provide for him beyond a single day, +and that, perhaps, to-morrow he might +be at home. The visitor was beginning +to say something in reply; but Robin's +home was with me sacred ground, and +I would not suffer the argument to +proceed further." +</p> + +<p> +Another pause of some minutes followed, +until I broke it by inquiring +whether the child that I had observed +at the entrance were related to the old man. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, no, sir," he replied, "little +Annie is my own daughter, and many +persons have wondered that I suffered +her to be so constantly with him. But +I consider the society of children to be +very beneficial to the insane; there is +something in their ways and language +which they can understand far better +than our own; and this was peculiarly +the case with poor Robin." +</p> + +<p> +"And do you suppose," I said, +"that the child liked to be with him?" +</p> + +<p> +"Undoubtedly," he replied; "for the +choice was her own. I merely encouraged +it. But Robin had an inexhaustible +stock of fairy tales, which made him +a great favourite with children; and +Annie would sit and listen to them for +hours together." +</p> + +<p> +"Do you really mean," I asked, in +some surprise, "that they were fairy +tales?" +</p> + +<p> +"Why, sir, for that matter," he +answered, "poor Robin himself believed +them to be true, and it was that which +gave a peculiar interest to his manner +of telling them. Some visitors have +fancied them to be a kind of allegory; +and I have often traced in the words +a double meaning, of which the old +man himself could hardly have been +conscious. But, however this may +have been, it is clear that they were +connected with his particular mental +delusion, from the way in which his +imaginary home formed the prominent +feature of every story." +</p> + +<p> +I expressed a wish to hear one of +them, and yet was hardly sorry when he +confessed himself to be unable to +comply with my request. He told me that +he had only heard them in detached +portions, for the patients in the Asylum +were too numerous to allow him to +devote as much time to poor Robin as he +might otherwise have done. "But, sir," +he continued, "little Annie knows them +all by heart, though I am afraid to-day +she is feeling too deeply the loss of +her companion to be able to repeat +one. There certainly was something +very singular in her fondness for the +old man, and I have often been +perplexed at the kind of influence he had +over her. She herself was sometimes +a sufferer from his delusions, and yet +always fancied poor Robin must be in +the right, and would submit to his +wishes without a murmur or complaint. +On one occasion, I myself felt called +upon to interfere." +</p> + +<p> +I begged him to relate the circumstance +to which he referred. +</p> + +<p> +"It was, sir," he said, "on Annie's +ninth birth-day, in November last. I +had given her in the morning a new +Victoria half-crown, and she went +immediately to exhibit her treasure to her +friend. She looked grave and thoughtful +on her return; and, when I asked +what purchases she had made with her +present, she confessed that the old man +had begged it of her, and she had given +it him. The next day, I told Robin +how wrong he had been to take the +poor child's money. But he answered, +with his usual strangeness, that he did +not in the least want it, and had asked +for it because he loved little Annie, and +wished to do her a kindness. Now, +most people would have thought that +this was rather a reason for giving her +a present than for taking one away. +And yet the old man spoke the truth, +for he knew no better. It was one +of his peculiarities to imagine that he +was conferring a favour whenever he +received one." +</p> + +<p> +There was a passage from Holy Scripture +which this answer suggested to my +mind. I remembered "the words of the +Lord Jesus, how He said, It is more +blessed to give than to receive,"* and +I repeated it rather to myself than to +my companion. The words, however, +caught his ear, and he observed that +it was very likely I had hit upon the +truth; for the understanding texts of +Scripture in their literal meaning, was +one feature of poor Robin's insanity. +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p class="footnote"> +* Acts xx. 35. +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p> +With a view to pursuing the subject +farther, I inquired whether the old man +had restored the money. +</p> + +<p> +"No, sir," replied my guide; "and +this is the most provoking part of the +story. I should not so much have +minded if he had wished for it as a +keepsake from the child; but he said +he had lent it to some companion who +had more need of it than himself. He +did not even so much as remember his +name. I told him he had much better +have given it at once, as he had no +chance of seeing it again. His own +mind, however, was perfectly at rest +about it, and he assured me that it was +only lent, and would undoubtedly be +restored, if not sooner, at least when he +went home. Of course, sir, when he +touched upon his home, I did not venture +to press him farther. But this was +another of his delusions, which, though +comparatively harmless while he was +staying here, must of itself have entirely +unfitted him for the management of his +own affairs. He would lend all that he +had to his brother paupers, and, though +no one ever thought of repaying him, +was just as happy as if the things +remained in his own possession." +</p> + +<p> +And another passage of Holy Scripture +rose to my remembrance, "He that +hath pity on the poor, lendeth unto the +Lord; and look, what he layeth out, +it shall be paid him again." And I +did not wonder that, with so sure a +promise, the mind of poor Robin should +have been at rest. +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p><a id="chap04"></a></p> + +<h3> +CHAPTER IV. +</h3> + +<p class="poem"> + Ever the richest, tenderest glow<br> + Sets round th' autumnal sun—<br> + But there sight fails; no heart may know<br> + The bliss when life is done.<br> + CHRISTIAN YEAR.<br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p> +I have reserved for a separate chapter +that part of my conversation within the +walls of the Asylum, which led to a +description of the closing scene of the old +man's life. I was still reluctant to admit +his insanity, for it seemed to me that he +had only so fully realized the presence +of the unseen world, as to have forgotten +altogether the things of sight in the +things of faith. I inquired, therefore, +of my companion, whether any more +decided symptoms of madness had ever +exhibited themselves than those which +he had already mentioned. He appeared +surprised at the question, but +replied, that, though the old man was +always more or less under the influence +of the disorder, there undoubtedly were +certain periodic returns of it, and that +these uniformly occurred at the +commencement of spring. +</p> + +<p> +"And did these," I asked, "render +him for the time violent and intractable?" +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, no, sir," he answered; "ever +since I have known him he has been +the same quiet and inoffensive creature, +and his madness used rather to assume +a melancholy form. He became sad and +dejected, and refused to eat, and would +pass whole days together in his own +solitary cell. On one occasion, my wife +sent little Annie, in the hope that she +might cheer him; but he would not +even admit the child; he told her that +his father was then with him, and that +he would not talk to her. I went +myself when I heard this; but, upon +opening the door, I found, as I +expected, that he was alone." +</p> + +<p> +"Perhaps," said I, "he may have +meant that he was praying to his Father +in Heaven. +</p> + +<p> +"It is not unlikely," he replied; "for +prayer was one way in which at these +seasons his madness most frequently +exhibited itself. I mean," he added, +observing my look of surprise, "that +he did not then pray like other people, +but would often remain whole hours +together upon his knees." +</p> + +<p> +And I remembered how the prophetess +Anna was said to have served +God with fastings and prayers night +and day, and how our blessed Lord +Himself had continued a whole night in +prayer to God; but I made no farther +reply. +</p> + +<p> +"The doctor," resumed my conductor, +"considered the long solitude +to be so bad for him, that for the last +few days he had not suffered him to +remain in his cell. It was, perhaps, +this circumstance which turned the +current of his thoughts into another +channel, and led to his wandering from the +Asylum." +</p> + +<p> +I was not sorry to change the +conversation, by inquiring how he had +contrived his escape. +</p> + +<p> +"Nay," he replied, "it is hardly fair +to speak of it as an escape. We were +never very strict with the old man, and +often suffered him to go beyond the +boundaries. On the present occasion, +he had made no secret of his intention, +and told one of the attendants that he +was anxious to pay his wife and +children a visit, and should soon be back. +I have no doubt myself that he intended +to keep his word; but he probably +started, in the first instance, in a wrong +direction, and so lost his way." +</p> + +<p> +"What do you mean," I asked, "by +his starting in a wrong direction? I +thought you were ignorant from what +part of the island he had been brought +here." +</p> + +<p> +"True, sir," he replied; "but Robin +himself always fancied that his home +lay towards the East: the little window +of the cell he occupied looked in that +direction; and, though it was too cold +for him in the winter months, we never +could persuade him to change it for one +with a southern aspect. He always said +that he did not feel the cold, as long as +he could see his home. Now, there is +nothing but a small hamlet visible from +the window, and, of course, when the +old man did not return, I sent to it to +inquire after him." +</p> + +<p> +"And had he been there?" I said. +</p> + +<p> +"No, sir," he replied; "and, after +wasting many hours in the search, we +at length heard that he had been seen +walking along the road which led direct +to the Undercliff. It was this +circumstance which enabled him to get so +many miles from the Asylum before +he was overtaken. But, as I said, I do +not think that he intentionally misled +us, but only missed his way." +</p> + +<p> +Now I knew full well that the village +of B—— was not the home of which +the old man had spoken; but, when I +remembered the agony with which he +had implored to be allowed to proceed +thither, I could not believe that mere +accident was the cause of his journey. +I resolved to return thither to prosecute +my inquiries; but before I left the +Asylum, asked to see the room which poor +Robin had occupied. +</p> + +<p> +"This is it, sir," said my conductor, +as he threw open the door of a low +narrow cell. "You will find it smaller +and more comfortless than many others, +but it is the one in which he was placed +when he was first brought here; and he +had become so fond of his little window, +and the view towards the East, that it +would have been a mistaken kindness +to force him to change it." +</p> + +<p> +I scarcely heard the words of apology, +for I felt a sudden thrill as I found +myself ushered thus unexpectedly into the +chamber of death. The old man was +lying upon his narrow bed, and a stream +of light through the open window fell +upon his tranquil countenance. A single +glance was sufficient to tell me not only +that he was indeed dead, but that his +end had been full of peace. There was +no convulsion of the features, and the +first symptoms of decay had not yet +appeared. His eyes had been left +unclosed, but the wandering light was no +longer there, and the smile which from +time to time had been wont to play +across his lips, rested quietly upon them +now. The one idea that his look and +posture alike conveyed to the mind was +that of perfect tranquillity and repose. +I felt that his long journey had at length +been finished, and that the old man was +at rest in his home. +</p> + +<p> +My companion also seemed for awhile +absorbed in thought. He advanced +softly to the bedside, and it was not +until, with a gentle hand, he had closed +the old man's eyes, that he broke the +silence by observing, "Ah, sir, morning +after morning I have found him lying +thus, and gazing through the open +window. His sight was gradually becoming +very weak from the glare of light, but +he was unconscious of it himself. And +it was but yesterday he told me that in +a little while he should be no longer +dazzled by the brightness of his home. +Poor fellow! when I came into the room +a few hours since, and saw his eyes so +calm and motionless, though the full +rays of the sun were falling upon them, +I knew that he must be dead, and could +not help thinking how singularly his +words had come true." +</p> + +<p> +There was something in the tone of +voice in which this description was +given, that proved the speaker to have +some secret feeling of its allegorical +meaning, though he himself would +probably have been unable to define it. +</p> + +<p> +A Bible and Prayer-Book were lying +on the table by the bedside. I turned +to the fly-leaf of the former, in the hope +that I might at least gather from it the +poor wanderer's name. There was written +in it, "Susan Wakeling; the first +gift of her husband, April 18th, 1776." And +when I remembered the old man's +great age, I conjectured that the sacred +volume must formerly have been his +own wedding present to his bride. I +replaced it on the table, and it opened +of its own accord at the eleventh +chapter of the Epistle to the Hebrews. The +page was much worn, as though it had +not only been often read, but many tears +had fallen upon it. My eye quickly +rested on the passage, "These all died +in faith .... and confessed that they were +strangers and pilgrims on the earth. +For they that say such things declare +plainly that they seek a country. And, +truly, if they had been mindful of that +country from whence they came out, +they might have had opportunity to +have returned. But now they desire a +better country, that is, an Heavenly."* And +while I read, it seemed as though +I had found the text to the old man's +history. +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p class="footnote"> +* Heb. xi. 13-15. +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p> +Another smaller volume was near +them, which proved to be the Christian +Year. My conductor told me that it +was the gift of the chaplain. For a +moment I wondered at his choice, for I +knew that it contained much which poor +Robin must have been unable to +understand. But the hymn for Septuagesima +Sunday, and many others, were marked +with pencil. And as my eye glanced +over them, my wonder ceased. They +were all in such perfect unison with the +old man's own thoughts, that, however +faint may have been the image which +they conveyed, they could not have +failed to exercise a soothing influence +on his mind. +</p> + +<p> +I inquired whether the chaplain used +to come often to see him. "Very +frequently," was the reply. "He took +great interest in poor Robin, and the +old man was grateful for it." "It +certainly was singular," he added, +thoughtfully, "that on his return yesterday +evening, he should have expressed so +earnest a wish that the chaplain should +be sent for." +</p> + +<p> +"And did you refuse?" I asked. +</p> + +<p> +"Fortunately not, sir," he replied. +"I hesitated at first, for it was very +late, and poor Robin was evidently +much exhausted with the fatigue and +excitement of the day. But he became +so anxious about it, that my wife +interceded for him, and told me she thought +he would go to sleep more quietly after +he had been here. I well remember +now the peculiar emphasis with which +the old man repeated her words, +and said, 'Yes, yes, I shall doubtless +go to sleep more quietly after he +has been here.' It almost seemed as +though he felt his end to be near at +hand." +</p> + +<p> +I begged to know what passed at +his interview with the chaplain. My +companion, however, could give me no +information as to the first part of it, +for the old man had desired to be left +alone with him, and his wish had been +at once indulged. "But," he continued, +"on our return to the room, we found +him looking more light and cheerful +than we had ever before seen him; +and when I congratulated him, he said +that it was no wonder, for a very +heavy burthen had been taken away. +The chaplain then told us that he +proposed to administer to him the Holy +Communion, and invited my wife and +myself to partake of it with him. It +is a point on which I have always felt +doubtful, for persons in the state of +poor Robin must have very indistinct +views of the real nature of a sacrament. +In this case the old man's own +expression proved it; for, as he joined +in the chaplain's request, he told us that +he was going on a long journey, and +might require the food to support him +on the way." +</p> + +<p> +"Nay," I could not help observing, +"surely his journey lay through the +valley of the shadow of death, and he +meant that his soul would be refreshed +on its passage by the body and blood +of Christ, even as the body is by bread +and wine." +</p> + +<p> +My companion shook his head as he +replied, "I believe, sir, Robin used the +words literally, but the chaplain took +the same view of them with yourself, +and it was a point for him and not me +to decide. Certainly nothing could be +more grave or attentive than the old +man's manner during the whole ceremony. +And it may be that some glimmering +of returning reason was sent to +prepare him for the approach of death. +Such cases are not of uncommon occurrence." +</p> + +<p> +I could not help thinking that, in +spiritual things, poor Robin had not +needed its light; but I made no further +reply; and my companion resumed his +narrative. +</p> + +<p> +"When the service was over, the old +man merely squeezed the chaplain's +hand in parting, but did not speak to +him. I also soon afterwards went away, +but my wife stayed for some time longer +watching by his bedside. He remained +perfectly still and silent, though his eyes +were open. At length she asked him +whether he did not feel tired, and wish +to go to sleep? And she tells me, that +he smiled like a little infant as he +replied, 'Oh no, not at all tired; for all +that wearied me has been taken away.' And +then, after a pause, he added, 'But +you may wish me good night now, for I +shall be asleep very soon;—and tell dear +Annie I am going home.' He spoke in +so cheerful a tone, that my wife little +thought they were his last words, and +she left him, as she fancied, to repose. +But it was a sleep from which he never +woke again. Ah, sir," he continued, "it +seems a sad thing to die thus forsaken +and alone; and yet, after all, many who +have kind friends and relatives round +their sick beds might envy poor Robin +his peaceful end. He went off so quietly +at last, that those who slept in the room +adjoining were not disturbed during the +night by the slightest sound. But early +this morning, when I came to inquire +after him, he was lying just as you now +see him, quite dead!" +</p> + +<p> +The deep feeling with which these +words were pronounced, convinced me +that he was no less touched than myself +by the contemplation of the outward +tranquillity of the old man's death. But +who can realize the inward peace that +must have been there when the body +fell asleep, and the soul was released +from its long imprisonment, and carried +by angels on its Homeward journey! +</p> + +<p> +As we left the old man's room, I +inquired whether there were many besides +little Annie who mourned his loss. +A smile again crossed the features of +my companion, as he replied, "There +were many of the patients who loved +him almost as dearly as the child +herself, but I can scarcely speak of them +as mourners now. A report spread +among them this morning that Robin +was going home; I cannot tell from +what quarter it arose, but when I came +to them, they crowded round me to +know if it were true." +</p> + +<p> +"And did you," I asked, "then tell +them that he was dead?" +</p> + +<p> +"Not in so many words," he replied. +"I merely said that he was already +gone home, and that they must not +expect to see him here again. And +more than one voice exclaimed in +reply, 'Happy, happy Robin, to be +taken home!'" +</p> + +<p> +Still I observed that I had remarked +on the countenance of many of the +patients an expression of sadness. +</p> + +<p> +"True," he answered, "for with them +the transition of feeling from joy to grief +is very rapid. They are not, however, +sorrowing for poor Robin, but for +themselves, because they have not been +allowed to accompany him. There were +some, in the first instance, who were +very loud in their complaints; but I +soothed them by saying that it was +right the old man should go first, +because he had been here so long." After +a pause, he continued: "It is my own +wish, as well as the chaplain's, that +many of them should attend the funeral, +for I would gladly pay this tribute of +respect to Robin's memory. And yet +I am half reluctant to give way to it: +the remembrance of the scene might +afterwards throw some gloom over the +bright and happy notions which they +have now formed of his home." +</p> + +<p> +I replied, that it might be so; "and +yet," I added, "they would find in the +thanksgivings and prayers of the Burial +Service only the exact echo of their own +joy and sorrow." And as I said this, I +could not help feeling that the scene +after the old man's death had been in +perfect harmony with his life, and that +poor Robin was rightly rejoiced over +and rightly mourned. +</p> + +<p> +My account of my visit to the Asylum +has already far exceeded the limits +which I had assigned it. And yet, at +the risk of being wearisome, I cannot +refrain from adding one more fragment +from my conversation within its walls, +before I proceed to the more pleasant +task that lies beyond. With a view to +prosecuting my inquiries in the village of +B——, I asked my companion whether +Robin had ever dropped a hint of his +former calling. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh yes, sir," was the reply; "he +used to say that he had enlisted as a +soldier very early in life, and had at one +time been made a prisoner. I have +seen the tears run down little Annie's +cheeks at the piteous tale he would tell +of the way in which his enemies had +bound him hand and foot, and cast him +into a dark and terrible dungeon, from +which he had hardly escaped with his +life. But I believe the whole story to +have been imaginary, and it is one that +I have little difficulty in accounting for. +He doubtless referred to the hardships +he had endured at the period of his first +imprisonment in the Asylum. No one +can wonder that they should have taken +so strong a hold on his imagination." +</p> + +<p> +"Did he, then," I asked, "believe +that his warfare had long been at an end?" +</p> + +<p> +"No, sir," he replied. "And perhaps +it would be more correct to say +that the treatment to which he had been +exposed was the origin of his delusion, +than that it accounted for it. The idea +that he was liable to the attacks of some +secret enemy, seems from that time to +have taken a fixed possession of his +brain; and if any one assured him that +he never could be subjected to the same +ill usage again, his invariable answer +was, that there was no safety for him +except at home. And then he would +maintain that having once enlisted, he +could never cease to be a soldier, +and talk of treacherous foes and long +watchings and doubtful conflicts. You +would have imagined him, from his +conversation, to have been one who was +fighting and struggling all day long, +instead of the quiet, inoffensive character +that he really was. But this, sir, was +not all; he would fancy that every +one else was a soldier also. He almost +persuaded little Annie that she had +enlisted in the same army with +himself; and often made her sad by +talking of the enemies who surrounded her, +and the service she was required to +perform." +</p> + +<p class="capcenter"> +<a id="img-076"></a> +<br> +<img class="imgcenter" src="images/img-076.jpg" alt="Page 76"> +</p> + +<p> +I here interrupted him by asking +whether the child had not been +baptized. He at once perceived the drift +of the question, and replied, "I know +what you mean, sir,—she was then +made the soldier and servant of Christ." +</p> + +<p> +"Yes," I added, "and entered into a +solemn engagement to fight manfully +under His banner, against sin, the +world, and the Devil." +</p> + +<p> +"True," he answered; "and it is +very curious that it was the old man +himself who first pointed out that +passage in the Prayer-Book to me. I +remember it struck me at the time +that his peculiar notions about soldiers +might, in some way, be connected with +it. And I think it far from improbable; +for Robin's madness seemed principally +to consist in his regarding metaphors +as realities, and realities as metaphors. +The difference between him and ourselves +would be, that he believed little +Annie to be really a soldier, and not +merely to be called one in the Prayer-Book." +</p> + +<p> +I made no further reply, for my own +thoughts grew perplexed, as I tried to +determine with myself what were truths +and realities, and what merely shadows +and metaphors, of the things pertaining +to our present existence. +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p><a id="chap05"></a></p> + +<h3> +CHAPTER V +</h3> + +<p class="poem"> + Oh, bliss of child-like innocence, and love<br> + Tried to old age! creative power to win,<br> + And raise new worlds, where happy fancies rove,<br> + Forgetting quite this grosser world of sin.<br> + CHRISTIAN YEAR.<br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p> +The rooms of the Asylum were hot and +close, and as the outer door opened, it. +was very pleasant to escape from them +into the fresh, open air. While we did +so, my mind experienced a similar kind +of relief, as the plaintive accents of +childhood broke in on my prolonged +conversation with the superintendent. +</p> + +<p> +In spite of the interest I took in his +narrative itself, it was with a feeling of +oppression that I had listened to it; and +there was something very refreshing in +the sudden change. The sounds which I +now heard proceeded from little Annie. +She was standing on the threshold, just +as I had seen her when I entered, except +that her grief was of a less quiet +character than before, and something +of impatience seemed to be mingled +with it. +</p> + +<p> +"It is no use," said her mother, as +we approached; "the poor child will +fret herself into a fever, and I cannot +persuade her to come away. She does +nothing but beg and entreat to be +allowed to see poor Robin again. I really +believe it will be the best way to take +her to his cell." +</p> + +<p> +"It must not be," replied her husband; +"she has no idea of what death +really is; and the sight of the body +would rill her mind with strange fancies, +and perhaps do her serious harm; for +she herself is but a poor weakly thing. +You know I never refused her permission +to visit him while he was alive, but +I cannot suffer it now." "It is singular," +he added, turning to me with a look of +vexation, "that I should have found +less difficulty in quieting the complaints +of all the mourners for poor Robin +within the Asylum, than in soothing the +grief of my own little girl. I do not +like to treat her with severity, and yet +without it I see no hope of getting her +away." +</p> + +<p> +All that I had heard of the child, +inspired me with a lively compassion for +her; and I asked to be allowed to try +my powers of persuasion. Permission +was readily granted; and I instinctively +had recourse to the old man's last +message, as the easiest way of gaining +access to her heart. "Annie," I said, +gently, "do you know where your friend +is gone?" The simple question checked +her sobs, and she looked timidly in my +face, but made no reply. "Poor Annie!" +I continued; "and did he indeed leave +you without telling you whither he was +going?" +</p> + +<p> +"Home, sir, home," she replied; and +the accent, no less than the words, +recalled to my mind the childlike old +man: "he often told me that he was +going home." +</p> + +<p> +"True," I replied; "and he is gone +home now. Do you really wish to see +him again?" She was silent; but the +look of affection that beamed on every +feature was a sufficient answer; so I +continued: "And if you do see him +again, Annie, where will it be?" Her +voice faltered, as she repeated the +words, "At home;" and she again burst +into tears. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, Annie," I said, after a short +pause, "you cannot see him here, +because he is gone away. He is now +happy in the enjoyment of his home, +and you must wait till you can +go to him there. But, perhaps, your +home is different from his. Is it so, +Annie?" +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, no," she answered, with unexpected +earnestness, "we are all children +of the same Father, and all travel to the +same Home—that is," she added, looking +down, and colouring deeply, "if we +are careful to keep in the path that +leads to it." +</p> + +<p> +"And what path is that, Annie?" +</p> + +<p> +"The path of trustful obedience, and +quiet faith, and holy love," was her +immediate reply. +</p> + +<p> +I knew at once that the words were +not her own, but that she spoke from +memory, and that I had accidentally led +her to one of the old man's allegories. +I was anxious for my own sake to hear +more of it, and it seemed to me that +it might be good for her own sorrow +to turn her thoughts for a little while +into this channel; so I continued: +"And is it a pleasant path, Annie, that +leads us home?" +</p> + +<p> +"It is an up-hill path," she said; +"but, as we walk along it, we can, if +we will, awake soft notes of music beneath +our feet, and there are whispering +winds to cheer us on our way." +</p> + +<p> +"And what, Annie," I asked, "do +you mean by the soft music and the +whispering wind?" +</p> + +<p> +"The soft music is prayer," she +replied, "and the whispering wind, the +Holy Spirit of God." +</p> + +<p> +"And can we," I said, "have the +soft music without the whispering +wind? I mean, can we pray without +the assistance of God's Holy +Spirit?" But there was no need for me to +have explained the question; the +language of allegory was most familiar +to the mind of the child, and she had +recourse to it in her reply. "No, sir," +she said, "for the spirit of harmony +dwells in the breeze; and it is the +wind alone that gives life to the music, +and bears it upward from earth to +Heaven." +</p> + +<p> +I cannot tell how far she realized the +deep meaning of these words, for I did +not venture to examine her upon them. +I was afraid lest I should only render +indistinct the image which they +conveyed to her mind, by touching the +colours with an unskilful hand. +</p> + +<p> +Presently I resumed:—"It must, +Annie, I think, be a pleasant path +along which the wind thus murmurs, +and the music plays!" +</p> + +<p> +"It is a pleasant path," she replied, +"and yet it is very thickly covered with +thorns." "But," she added, and from +the smile which for a moment lit up her +countenance, it seemed as though this +were the metaphor which pleased her +best, "they are all magic thorns; and +if we look upward to the clear, blue +sky, and tread firmly upon them, they +keep changing into flowers." +</p> + +<p> +"And is there not another path," I +said, venturing to guess at the conclusion +of the allegory, "which leads away +from home, and along which the flowers, +as you tread upon them, keep changing +into thorns?" +</p> + +<p> +But I was wrong in my conjecture, +for she looked perplexed, and replied, +"I do not know, sir, about the other +paths; the old man never used to talk +to me but of one." And I felt ashamed +of my question, as I said within myself, +"Oh, happy child, to know as yet but +of one path; and happy teacher, to have +so shared the innocency of childhood as +to have spoken to her but of one!" +</p> + +<p> +Presently, however, she continued, +as though she observed my confusion: +"But, sir, he said there were flowers +which grow by the way-side. When +the wind blows softly upon them they +perfume the air; and their fragrance is +very sweet and pleasant to those who +pass them by; but if we stop to gather +them, then they become magic flowers, +and keep changing into thorns. And +do you know, sir, why it is so?" +</p> + +<p> +"Not exactly," I replied; "I should +like you to explain it to me." +</p> + +<p> +"Because, sir," she said, "when we +gather them, we stoop down, and turn +our eyes towards the earth, instead of +gazing upward on the clear, blue sky." +</p> + +<p> +"But, Annie," I observed, "you have +not yet told me what are the flowers +which we gather, or the thorns on +which we tread." +</p> + +<p> +"The thorns," she replied, "are the +trials and afflictions which God sends +us; the flowers are the pleasures and +amusements which we make choice of +for ourselves." +</p> + +<p> +"Then, Annie," I said, "the children +who gather the magic flowers are those +who follow their own will, while those +who tread upon the magic thorns are +such as submit themselves quietly to +the will of God." +</p> + +<p> +Her countenance became grave, and +I saw that she already guessed my +meaning. I thought her mind was +now sufficiently prepared to allow me +to apply directly to her own case the +old man's allegory; and it seemed as +though his spirit were resting upon me +while I did so, and I used almost +unconsciously the language of metaphor. +</p> + +<p> +"Annie," I continued, "a very sharp +and piercing thorn was but yesterday +placed in your path. Your foot is +young and tender, and I do not +wonder that you should shrink from +treading upon it." She trembled violently +at this direct allusion to her grief, +and yet looked anxiously in my face, +as though she wished me to say more. +My own voice began to falter, and I +could only add, "But, believe me, your +kind friend did not deceive you; the +thorn of affliction lies on the path +homewards; and if you have but courage to +walk quietly on, there is none that with +greater certainty will change into a +flower. Go, Annie, and awaken the +soft music, and you will be cheered by +the whispering wind." +</p> + +<p> +One by one the tears trickled down +her cheeks, as she turned to her mother, +and said, "Forgive me for my impatience; +I am ready now, dearest mother, +to accompany you home; or I will go +home directly myself, and you shall +follow me." She did not trust herself +to pause an instant, or make any further +reply, but expressed her gratitude to +me by a look, and at once hastened +away: and while she went, so vivid +was the impression which the allegory +had made on my own mind, that the +wind which played with her garments +seemed to possess some holy charm, +and I could fancy that I was listening +to strains of music, in the soft echo of +her receding steps. +</p> + +<p> +The mother also was silent; but +there was no mistaking the expression +of her countenance. The subdued smile +on her lips, and the bright tears that +trembled in her eyes, as she raised +them to Heaven, told me that she was +following the same solemn train of +thought with myself, and treasuring yet +more deeply in her heart the sayings +of her child. +</p> + +<p> +There was a pause of some seconds, +and the sound of little Annie's footsteps +had just died away, when the stillness +was again broken by her father's voice. +"You were fortunate, sir," he said, "in +leading her to the story of the homeward +path; many visitors have considered +it the most beautiful of all that +the old man told. It was a great +favourite with the child. I have often +heard her repeating detached portions +of it to herself, though I was not aware +that she had found in them so deep a +meaning.—It is strange, very strange," +he added, thoughtfully, "for I cannot +even now tell who could have explained +them to her. I also have often looked +back with wonder on the answers of the +child. But there is a passage from Holy +Scripture, which seems to be their best +interpreter, and they never fail to recall +it to my mind: "I thank thee, O Father, +Lord of heaven and earth, that thou +hast hid these things from the wise and +prudent, and hast revealed them unto +babes."* +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p class="footnote"> +* Luke x. 21. +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p> +Poor Annie! My conversation with +her gave a ray of brightness to a visit +which otherwise had in it enough of +gloom. Nor has this feeling been in +any way changed by the early death of +the child. There is still peace and joy +in every thought connected with her, +though within a few months of my first +visit to the Asylum little Annie was +laid in her quiet grave. She laboured +but one short hour in the vineyard, and +then was taken to the same home with +the old man who had borne so long and +so patiently all the burthen and heat +of the day. Yet my own heart was a +witness that even her little hour of +labour had not been without its fruit. +A romantic story was told concerning +the cause of her death. It was said +that she had never recovered the loss +of her friend, but gradually pined away +in consequence of it, and at length died +of a broken heart. But I believed not +the tale; for little Annie did not sorrow +as those without hope; and though, perhaps, +the cord of affection, that united +her so closely to the old man, may have +hastened her progress to the home to +which he was gone, I do not think +that her bereavement was the cause of +her death. I had left her with the +impression that she was not long for +this world. I cannot exactly describe +from whence this feeling arose. It +was not merely because her cheek was +wan, and her complexion delicate, and +her little heart seemed to beat with +too eager emotion for the frail prison +in which it was confined; but there +was something in her voice, look, and +manner, which kept reminding me of +the world of spirits; as though, in all +her youth and innocence, she were +walking on its very borders, and her +gentle form might at any moment fade +into the mist, and vanish from my view. +</p> + +<p> +The more I reflected on this, the +more sure I became that little Annie +had lived her time, and that no sudden +shock had broken prematurely the +thread of life. I thought that this +assurance might afford some comfort +to her parents in their heavy affliction; +for Annie was an only daughter. But +when I called upon them, the mother +alone was at home; and I soon found +that she needed no consolation which +I could afford her. She had her own +secret store of treasure in every word +that had fallen from her darling child. +I shall never forget the look with which +she said to me, "Ah, sir, I understood +very little of her words while she was +alive; but the moment she was gone, +it seemed as though a light was shining +upon them from another world, and I +can read them plainly now." And then, +after a pause, she added, "Do you +remember, sir, on the very day you were +with us, how she said, 'I will go home +directly myself, and you shall follow +me?' I remembered it well; and +she saw from my countenance that I +guessed her meaning. "Yes," she +continued, as, in spite of every effort to +suppress it, the big tear rolled down +her cheek, "it was in order that her +father and myself might learn to follow +her, that little Annie was taken Home. +He too, sir, has become since then an +altered man." +</p> + +<p> +A silent pressure of the hand was my +only reply, for I felt that the afflicted +mother had learnt more truly than I +could teach her the lesson which was +to be gathered from the death of her +child. +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p><a id="chap06"></a></p> + +<h3> +CHAPTER VI. +</h3> + +<p class="poem"> + Gently along the vale of tears<br> + Lead me from Tabor's sunbright steep;<br> + Let me not grudge a few short years<br> + With thee toward Heaven to walk and weep.<br> +</p> + +<p class="poem"> + But, oh! most happy, should thy call,<br> + Thy welcome call, at last be given—<br> + "Come, where thou long hast stor'd thy all!<br> + Come, see thy place prepar'd in Heaven!"<br> + CHRISTIAN YEAR.<br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p> +The recollection of little Annie has +made me wander from my story, and +I must now hasten to bring it to a +conclusion. I left the Asylum, pondering +deeply on the things I had heard and +seen. My heart was sad within me; +for I could not help giving way to a +feeling of compassionate sorrow as I +thought of the old man's solitary lot. +</p> + +<p> +His past history seemed, indeed, to +be lost in almost hopeless oblivion. +But I knew that he must have been +crushed and broken down by some +terrible calamity in early youth; that +he had been awakened from the stupor +which it produced to the stern +reality of bonds and chains, and then +been doomed to a dull, unvaried +captivity, not for days, weeks, or months, +but for a long period of more than +fifty years. Thus reason kept drawing +a melancholy picture of one without +home, without friends, dependent on +charity for his daily bread, whose +whole existence was a dreary void, +with no employment to beguile his +thoughts, no hope to cheer him on +his way. It needed only the +recollection of that peculiar solitude of +mind, which is almost the certain +offspring of insanity, to complete its +gloom. +</p> + +<p> +And yet, after all, it was my own +infirmity which made me sad; for, +when I had strength to gaze on the +same picture with the eye of faith, +bright and beautiful were the images +that I saw. I then perceived that he +was not without home, for his home +was in the land of spirits beyond the +grave; he was not without friends, for +his wife and children were waiting for +him there; while he remained upon +earth, he was not dependent, for he +felt his daily wants to be supplied by +a Father's care; he never, for a single +instant, was without occupation, for he +had a long warfare to accomplish, a +distant journey to perform; and still +less was he uncheered by the blessing +of hope, for he was able to rest in +humble trust on his Saviour's promise, +and go on, day after day, laying up +treasures for himself, which neither +moth nor rust could corrupt, nor thieves +break through and steal. Out of the +loneliness caused by his affliction he +had created a new world for himself, +or rather, he had been drawn by it to +live in that world which, though unseen, +God has really created for us all. And +surely to him life could never have +been dull and unvaried, while he was +able to trace the types and emblems +of spiritual things alike in the passing +gleams of sunshine, and in the dark +shadows that rested upon his path! +</p> + +<p> +Mingled with these conflicting +emotions, the question from time to time +arose in my mind, 'And was poor Robin +really mad?' And again it was only +my own infirmity which caused me to +shrink from the reply. It is hard +indeed to define madness; and the state +of his intellect probably varied from +time to time. Thus it may have been +almost without a cloud when little +Annie was his companion. So, also, +during my own brief interview with +him, the stillness of the evening, and +the unison of his own thoughts with the +surrounding scene, may have breathed +a soothing influence upon his mind. +And yet when I reflected calmly on +that very interview, I felt that they +were right in not suffering the old +man to travel alone along the journey +of life. +</p> + +<p> +His was the second childhood; simple, +pure, and holy as the first, and +yet, in his case, no less than the first, +requiring a protector's care. He spoke +and thought as a child, and children +could understand him; but the calm +mirror of his mind quickly grew +troubled in his intercourse with men, and +he then lost the power of explaining +his thoughts, or perhaps of himself +distinguishing between the shadow and +the substance, the things of sight and +the things of faith. Reason had +resigned her sway during the mental +conflict which had been caused by his +calamities; and though peace and +quietness had been restored, she never +had attained sufficient vigour to +resume it again. Nay more; it may be +that her lamp was the more dim and +uncertain, on account of the brighter +and clearer light which from that time +burned unceasingly in his soul. It is +possible that he was slow in observing +the different shades of colour that +passed across earthly objects, because +to his eye one unfading colour was +resting upon them all; and that his +mere intellectual faculties remained +weak and palsied, because out of +this very weakness he had been made +strong, and he was at all times +conscious of the presence of a surer +support and a safer guide. +</p> + +<p> +And what matters it, if it were so? +Why may we not revere poor Robin, +and love him, and learn from him, and +yet not shrink from acknowledging that +his reason had gone astray? Surely +there is no one who would not gladly +leave the hard, dull road of life, if only +they could wander with him along the +same bright and happy paths! There +is no one who would not give the +choicest gifts of reason twice told, if +only they could purchase for them the +child-like faith of that simple-hearted man! +</p> + +<p> +I was half sorry when my arrival at +the village of B—— made me change +these silent meditations for the attempt +to investigate the old man's connexions +and history. It was not, however, mere +curiosity that prompted me to do so. +I was anxious, if it were possible, to +save him from a pauper's grave. For +a long time my inquiries were in vain. +Some few, indeed, had heard of poor +Robin, for his fame, as I have said, +had spread beyond the walls of the +Asylum; but the name of Wakeling +was unknown to them; and they did +not believe he had ever been connected +with the parish of B——. They referred +me, however, to the cottage of the +oldest inhabitant of the village. She +was a widow, of very great age, having +lived to see four generations around +her. A few years since, they said, she +was able to speak distinctly of events +that had happened more than half a +century ago, but latterly her memory +had become impaired. +</p> + +<p> +When I mentioned to her the name of +Wakeling, the word at once awakened +some recollection of the past. She +twice repeated it, and added, almost +mechanically, "Good and excellent +people, sir, and very kind to the poor." But +when I questioned her as to their +occupation and history, and asked what +had become of them, she shook her +head, as though the thread of memory +had been broken off, and she was +unable to unite it again. +</p> + +<p> +As a last hope, I referred directly +to the spring of 1783, and inquired +whether it had been marked by any +particular occurrence. "Ah, sir," she +replied, "much of the past is now like +a dream to me, but that is a period +which I never can forget." The tone +of sadness in which these words were +uttered, proved some deep sorrow to +be connected with the remembrance of +it; and on further questioning, I learnt +that it was a season in which an infectious +fever had raged in the village, and +that whole families had been carried off +by its ravages: she herself had then +been left an orphan. But though her +recollection of the illness itself seemed +as vivid as though it had occurred but +yesterday, of the Wakelings she could +say nothing with distinctness. It may +be that her mind was too absorbed with +the remembrance of her own grief to +allow her to recur to that of others; +or it may be that, even at the time, in +the general affliction the loss of an +individual, however grievous, had been +scarcely noticed, and soon forgotten. At +length she seemed to grow weary of my +importunity, and said, "I cannot tell +who may have lived, and who may have +died: you must go, sir, to the churchyard, +and there you will find the only +certain history of that fatal spring." +</p> + +<p> +A new thought was suggested by +these words, and I repaired thither in +the hope that I might find that information +which I had sought in vain from +the living, among the silent records of +the dead. +</p> + +<p> +The evening was now drawing on, +and it was in truth the very hour at +which but yesterday I had parted from +the old man. I was alone; and as I +trod, with a cautious reverence upon the +green sod, there was no sound to break +the tranquillity of the scene, save the +ripple of the waters at the edge of the +cliff on which the churchyard stood. +Their restless motion only made me +feel the more deeply the stillness of the +hallowed ground itself; and I thought, +that if the old man had been with me, +he might have found in it an apt emblem +of the quiet resting-place of the dead, +lying on the very borders of the sea +of life, and yet untroubled by its +murmuring and sheltered from its storms. +I was not long in discovering the +object which I sought. The rays of the +setting sun at once directed me to a +stone at the eastern extremity of the +churchyard. It was distinguished from +those around by a simple cross; but in +spite of the soft light that was now shed +upon it, it was with difficulty that I +deciphered the inscription which it bore. +For not only was the tomb itself thickly +covered with moss and weeds, but my +own eye grew dim with tears, as one by +one the few sad words revealed to me +the secret of the old man's history. +His restlessness during the spring, the +object of his last solitary journey, and +parts of his conversation with myself, +which before had seemed obscure, were +now fully explained. The inscription +was as follows:— +</p> + +<p class="t3"> + SACRED<br> + TO THE MEMORY OF<br> + SUSAN, WIFE OF ROBERT WAKELING,<br> + WHO DIED<br> + APRIL 18TH, 1783, AGED 28 YEARS.<br> + ALSO OF THEIR CHILDREN,<br> + ALICE, AGED 6 YEARS, HENRY, AGED 5 YEARS,<br> + AND EDWARD, AN INFANT,<br> + WHO SURVIVED HER ONLY A FEW DAYS.<br> +</p> + +<p class="t3"> + "I SHALL GO TO THEM<br> + BUT THEY SHALL NOT RETURN TO ME."<br> + 2 SAM. XII. 21<br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p> +There was room beneath the text +from Holy Scripture for one name +more, and it was there that I added the +words: +</p> + +<p class="t3"> + ALSO OF ROBERT WAKELING,<br> + WHO DIED<br> + APRIL 18TH, 1843, AGED 93 YEARS.<br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p> +They remain as a simple record that +the old man was indeed united at last, +in body as well as spirit, to those whom +he had so dearly loved, and mourned so +long. +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p class="transnote"> +[Transcriber's note: Odd and unusual spellings +are as printed.] +</p> + +<p><br><br><br><br></p> + +<div style='text-align:center'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 75652 ***</div> +</body> + +</html> + + |