Burlington free press. [volume] (Burlington, Vt.) 1827-1865, 1839-03-08

to him very wonderful. It NAV thus be-.
come ineligible, that when the fated hour
arrived, and Arthur could look back on
Edmonstone, Harcourt, Wilson, Hastings,
and Musgrave az so many distinct selves,
he turned from them all, and hoped to rise
on holder wings, and command q wider mir.
when he elected to assume the being of
Walsingham.
CHAPTER VIII.
Extracts from Maria's Note- Book.
Walsingham has low been here on n
visit for two days. | am not sure, but I
suspect. that he plotted to induce my aunt
to invite him and although il seems alb.
surd. | can now hardly help fancyinp that
1t was on my occoun, he wished to come.
| cannot see him without interest and a
certain pleasure. But | find that this feel.
irg is always accompanied by dissatisfac
ton. and almost by se!f-reproach. when it
is not justified by an equal sense OF reliance
and reverence. His sympathies seem to
me kind ard right, and wonderfully Impair.
tai and comprehensive: and of bis talents
ard accomplishment. there can be, | SUD.
pose, no doubt. Bot ] cannot shake off
the persuasion th5t there is something
wanting in him 10 gain ry full admiration
and esteem. | can imagine tina, a person
who had never beheId a complete Gothic
cathedral might see a beautiful tower of
such a building, massive and profusely or.
namented, and in which all that had ever
been begun was quite finished, and yet feel
something to be wanting, though he might
not be able to tell that it was the sky point.
ipr cptroe vphiph punbt 20 bo,,o .o,,a 81.
tower. As TO Walslrrham, however, it
may be altogether mistake of mine and
no doubt it seems more probable that | am
in error than he.
Oh, how hard it is to keen ones life at
once clear. full, fresh, and steady! How |
find myself wavering into sickly %fancies,
INDUCING selfish humours, replnlng at my
situation as if it were not a necessary por
ton of my existence, and as if that were
not, on the whole. a blessing. My God!
strengthen me-. The image of Arthur has
darkened, even saddened, my mind. But
for how much hope. energy. feeling. am I
not also indebted to him. | look upon the
stars or into the calm depth o fpure waters,
and | seem to know then that although
here and now we ave DIVIDED, there is some
distant imperishable world in which our
spirits ever dwell together. Meanwhile,
the past lies wild and dark behind me. The
future moves onward with swift feet. and
ito footsteps on that field of still smoking
ashes are what we call the present. Dear,
dear. Arthur! though ] cannot see you.
nor even hear Of you. some dav ofunclOud.
ed revelation will surely come. when you
will know how tondIy and devotedly I com.
pare your deep, though often troubled,
struggling earnes'ness. with this cold, far
9 'anc'og. many sided, self jdo'izing, con.
summate art list.
am unjust to Walsingham. No man
could so well understand aud tolerate all
kinds of characters, even the most unlike
his own, nay, even the poor, foolish. pain
ful, mlmIcrles Of himself. without a long
and hard seIf.sacrifcing discipline. There
is nothing which | find that he 50 thorough
" hates os the coarse, tawdry finery OF the
English upper classes. unaccompanicd. as
1t so often is, by any true refinement or
sense Of the beautiful. But | think. that
when this better taste exists. he is inclined
w Nt'IP' ~ Us v iI'ICb vi IlipluI WI.
and even q good deal Of hearrless selfish.
ness. When this tendency of his breaks
out ] shrink away from him. But then
again my admiration is recalled to him BY
his senslbIlitv to every form Of power and
lovllness, by his insight into the real sub
stance of AL the kinds of human life we
meet with, and his capacity of diving the
history of each, and renhing Of IT'S destiny
into a clear and expressive whole. Some
times, for a few mOmenis. | seem borne
upwards on his eagle wings. and feel long
after as if he had placed me on a mighty
mountain head, whence. in bright sunshine
and keen blue air. ] can behold the great
and living mass of Nature and Mankind.
Dare ! ask myself whether | could he con
tent to dwell with him upon that SUNNI, ?
1t is too late to doubt whether | shall ask
the question. Arthur, forgive me! But
am clear as 10 the answer-No-Oh. No.
May God forbid! Rather let M live in
the darkest, rudest valley. where 7 may be
strengthened and guided by one true,
warm wise heart; where ] should not only
understand and mould 10 imagery all the
beings round me, but where they might
feel that | loved them, and was struggling
onward with them to do whatever good
we knew, at whatever sacrifice.
Walsingham puzzles me more and more.
| cannot be mistaken as to the interest he
feels in me, and the pleasure he has in my
society. ! too enjoy the perpetual flow
Of animated and graceful thoughts which
breaks from him on all occasions. anC
with reference to every little outward
object,-a plant, a bird, a shower. a village
wedding. Now and then he expresses IN
q few words a view which seems to throw
a wondrous light over whole regions Of
ones llfo. As thls-a large mind, which
cannot tolerate small ones, ia smaller than
# 1t could. Or this when we feel strong.
y and myster'ously as to the past, we
should remember that ali which seems
stransest in our consciousness may arise,
not from the paSt that IL relates Ia. hut from