Southport telegraph. [volume] (Southport, W.T. [i.e. Kenosha, Wis.]) 1840-1850, 1841-06-08

| The Rev. Benjamin Blythe walked up
that lofty flight of steps without perfectly
knowing whether he accomplishing ascent
on his head or his heels.-His brain was in
IN perfect bewilderment; his limbs trem-
bled his knees shook, his tongue Glove TO
the roof of his mouth. Had some sudden
misfortune beiallen HIM, he could not have
more Frustrated in mind. And il was thus,
because he had been in training for sorrow.
Grief upon grief had logged his very foot
steps,as step by step he had advanced in the
dark road of adversely, and its glooms had
| gathered more and more heavily; but his
eyes were now well used to the murky path
way,and when, instead of Genser darkness,
the beams of prosperity shone on his path,
he was wel-ngh blinded by the unaccus-
toned light.
But pass we before our hero up these
steps through that stately hall, along those
spacious corridors, over q long suite Of
rooms, into the very presence Of the peer.
Here all was stern, stiff, severe propriety;
the chairs looked as if they were never
designed to be sat upon, the floors never
meant to be trod upon, the servants as if
they were never to be spoken to,-every
thing as if, could it have ute red words, it
would have said, "Sacrilege to touch mel"
The solemn quiet of lofty dignity pervaded
the whole mansion. No hurry, no hustle,
no flying here and hurrying there. Silence
seemed to echo itself, and answer ''si-
lence."
And the lord Of the mansion, the peer Of
the realm, the accredited represe ntative Of
some certain share of the wisdom Of the
nation; where was he? what was he doing?
what was he like?-why, he was in his
library, he was writing, he was like every
body else, like nothing but himself
eyes," said Lord Wycherly, telling
himself the news, 81 have made up my
mind, | have decided, will make Mr.
Wlnker my secretary. 1t will do very
we'll for young man without incumbran-
ces, and-by-and-by l may push him up
hill q little. Yes, | will write TO him d.
rectly; | knew that he loves jest, but |
do not at the bottom Of my heart see the sin
of a jest that is Of course, on proper occa-
slons. People say tina: am severe; an /!
| Lord Wycheerly looked at himself in the
large glass which faced his library table,
and asked his own stern, severe counter
part the question with an imposing,
threatening air. "Severe am |? Need
wonder if the world calumniates me with
severity, that it should calumniate Mr..
WinkIer with levity?"
Lore Wycherly dipped the pen in the
ink, but like all other steeled articles, it
would rather break than bend Not a
single mark would it make, though it was
real patent, to fulhering the nomination Of
Mr.. Wmkler TO the important office of the
peers secretary. He dipped again, but
the obstinacy Of the animal was invincibIe.
1t might be a bad omen. Lord Wycherly
however, was above omens, so he took a
quill that had once belonged to sensible
goose, and in which wisdom might there
fore be hereditary.
Lord WyCherly again frowned upon
himself in the glass, and rot upon himself
only, but on a servant who had been
bowling 10 his lordship's back three min
utes and half without venturing to make
himself futher audible or visible, but now,
rendering card, presumed to utter the
word "walts," in the very ghosts of sounds.
"Show him up" said my lord, and the
Reverend Benjamin Blythe was shown
| up.
The Reverend Benjamin Blythe never
afterwards could tell how he had got up
those stone steps, or across that lofty ball,
or along those corridors, whether he walk
ed IN the anlipodean fashion, or only ma
naged the journey in the ordinary way
But there he did stand in the presence Of
the peer, at all events.
Something like perception Of dark
irowning brow bent upon him, and Of CLAN
ces taking the measure of his poverty
stricken garb, did flicker across the con-
fined whirl of the poor gentIeman's brain,
but his eyes were too full Of tears 10 see
distinctly. In Il husky voice, almost mar
ticulate with emotion, he tried to speak,
but the words came nottripPingly. Your
lorship's goodness-my Notwithstanding
exerion devot:ng all my abilities"
My dear reader, if you were ever in an
| O'Connelized state, that is, in an agita-
ton, and the person to whom you were Vi
terng the words which you could neither
organize or control, listened TO you like
snow figure, or an embodied east wind,
and waited till you had done, would you
think him very polite?
Thus polite was Lord Wychcrly. Our
poor hero had broken down, and had lis
tened 10 silence for full minute and a
half before his lordship replied, and then