The spirit of democracy. [volume] (Woodsfield, Ohio) 1844-1994, 1845-09-20

sHArthur, Arthur, Isay;-back, Tower, get oul
from before me. Arthur, where are you?--buried
forever with your books, like amouse in cheese.
Why are you not ready for your cunning excur-
sionl'' .say,. .s., n p. f,.- a ,..
s"Gunning," said Arthur, raising his eyes with
half reused look, as his brother with two dogs
burst into his apartment so. it's too sultry, too
oppressive to think of going into the woods this
afternoon; prefer to remain at home."
!" At home! always at home, hidden in some
corner half Supplied over some stupid volume ,nev-
erto-b be found when you are needcd-ncver ready
whenyour company or your energy, if you have
any. might be .ofservice to those TO whom you owe
your services. Ifa sick aunt or gouty uncle is TO
bedriven out, or entertained in way whatever,
the whole burden must fallon me. Arthur's assis-
tance is out of the question: because he is forever
out of the way. Here have been all the morn
salts, and her FAM and more than all, trying to play
the agreeable to the yeriest bore in existence while
the woods are full of game and the rifles crack
ing here and there, in every direction, and thin
ming It out by handfuls; and now when have re-
turned with all the impatience in the world, ex-
pecting to find you with every thing ready, behold
you have forgotten it 1t isenough to exhaust the
patience Of the good old hero Of Uz. The game
in the woods may come, and go: the fish in the
river swarm ill it overAows, without fear of mo.
lestation from the care which you would bestow
to provide danties for the table. And the fortune
that has been left you, too, might waste like the
dew before the sun, il no ons cared any more than
yourself for its preservation. A hard fate would
be yours my dreamy boy, if you were left to pro-
vide for your own want, even though the wealth
Of a prince were yours from which TO supply
them. Spirtless as pulling child you will always
need to be under the care of nurse, or you will
neither be fed nor clothed; and without waiting an
answer to his hasty words, Henry Walworth closed
the door se1s ~s''
Arthur had dropped his book, risen from his seat,
and stood with folded arms before his brother dur
ing this speech, while the hot blood went crowd
ing and flashing over his pale temples.t the veins
seemed swollen almost to bursting. He was
slight, pale youth, with fair hair sleeping upon an
open forehead, while his full clear eye had the
= Z d
tinge Of the wild blue violet, and the CLEAN Of the
waters on whose banks It grew. The youngest
son of a wealthy family, and from his delicate
health aud deeply sensitive nature, the pet OF
widowed mother. he had turned his attention
wholly to those quiet pursuits to which his tastes
were adapted. The wealth which they inherited
fra their father he had left entirely to the of
his busting elder brothers, and had never even
much as eDquired what was the extent Of his own
fortune. Indeed there was far more wealth for him
in the rich mines Of ancient lore, through which
he was accustomed to work his way, or the bright
visions which fancy wove, than in the dross which
the world prizes so highly. ,af7sa ss
b If there was one characteristic possessed by Ar
thur Wadsworth other than that which made him
the quiet thoughtful being we have described, it
was pride, deep, burning pride; and this spirit was
fully reused by the taunts to which he had just
listened With pulse that beat in no even meas
ure and an unsteady step he moved for hours,back
and fourth, across his apartment His life passed
inreyiew before him the days--the months the
years that had lapsed away, without bearing for
him the record Of any action worthy Of remem-
brance. True, he had reyeled in day dreams, and
cherished bright hopes for manhood; and he felt
not NOW for the first time, how unworthy thing
itistorest ones reputation and fortune upon the