Spirit of the age. [volume] (Woodstock, Vt.) 1845-1913, 1845-05-08


had in the eyes of the tradosman, been
amply remedied BY Patty, and my owner
turned me recently between his thumb
and ngcr-and gnzed at me as though,
for his especial profit only, had dropped
from the wing OF an angel
Great was the stir throughout the house
hold Of FIamngo--and great the cause
thereof. lie had received al order lron
the palace of St. JameS'S: his very soul
wos pamcd--for he should get off his
feathers.
This | heard aud saw, and-I confess
it with the lrcpIdalon OF cxpcciant vanity
beheId the feather merchant make seIec-
ton from his stock. AT length, with melt
inc looks, and short, seIf.comp Iacen' sign,
he placed mel was sure Of it--as the
GROWING glory, the feather of feathers, d
monr NV kind | was to wave my snowy
purity in St. Jamcs's!
And for this, thought I, was | drest--
prepared by the lean fingers of want in an
unwhosome garnet! Alas! | have since
feh-ryc, thousand tImes-that 1t dim
eyed Vanity would use the spectacIcs OF
truth, she would see blood on her sotlns--
blood on her brocades-- blood on her lace
on every rich and gllstenIng thread that
hanrs about her-bIood She would see
herself grim Idol. worshpped by the
worlds unjust necesstles-and so behold
lug, would IeeI quicker tnrob OF heart,
a larger compassion for her forced idol
uters.
'To the palace cried Flamingo to the
hackney.coachman summoned to bear my
self and companions on our glorious mis-
sion, TO the palace cried the feather
merchant, with new Iustnre in his eyes,
harmony in his voice, and delicious ting
ling OF every nerve that filled his whole
anatomy with music. TO the palace, were
really the words uttered by Flamlngo; a
Marco Polo domain filled with golden
dreams. Certainly not: Mr. FIamlngo
knew exactly the number of steps compos'
ing that private way to heaven, the back
staircase. He had smiled and rembIcd
and bowed and wriggIcd, and smirkcd and
criugcd his way to the patronage OF Queen
Charlotte (of blessed memory. This ex-
aIting truth Flamingo had several times
tested and Mat in matter peculiarly Hat
iering to himself For instance, very
line cockatoo Mr. FIamngo submitted tc
the inspection Of her majesty, who was
graciousIy pleased to say to IT Pretty
Poll" On another occasion, FlamingC
took Java tom,it to the palace; which
bird was graciously permitted by the queer
to perch upon her tle finger, her ma est!
still further condesccndlng to cry
'Swee-e.e-t! These circumstances were
at the time totally overlooked by the cour
historian; but they are recorded, written II
very fine round-hand, in the 'Flamngt
Papers
had scarcely been an hour in the pal
ace ere my memory began to fail me. es
all The previous scenes of my recollection
bcran to fade and grow dim, and take The
mingled extravaganza and obscurity of /
dream. Was it possible that | had eve
been a thing of barter between savage
and sailor 70. pia-tai? Could | have
ever known Jack Lipscomb? Had
crossed the seas in the dungeon of ship
Was it possible that | could detect the
odour Of biIge.wa,er? Was there such ;
hahnt for human kind as the Mlnories!-
Aud that'o Iew-SureIy he was a spec
tre-1 part of nightmare! His Iarge-lipped
gobc.cyed daughter, too she-wIth all hel
pnmpness-wa no more substantial. Ant
then, that dim garnet in the a!ley-th
death and enduring lnnocencc-thc heav
mess and misery of human days-he sui
ering that made of mortal breath weary
ing di.ease--lIl the worst penalty Of life
had known and witnessed il! Could
be possible! And was there really a Pat
Is Batter looking with meek face upon
frowning world and smiling down misior
tune lntopny!
confess thqt-having delighted il
the atmosphere Of palace 70 rscrace
" an hour-nl these realities seemed wan
ing into visions Of leyereh sleep. 1t wa
oaIy by strong etlnrt-by determination
to anaIyze my past emotions--lhot couI'
convince myself of he existence of
world Of Indebtedness without-of want
and suffering, and all the sad lneqnalitle
of hum1n life. How often does sdddel
prosperity minge .ethc in its nectar!
Ipass by morIents of!nmnIinous anxiet.
of hope, painful in sweet intensity
Of the deIirjnm Of assured aggrdndIzment
1t is now the remnant Of my former sci
that speaks, and, therefore, be the utter
ance calm and phllosophIc.
1t was my fate to be chosen one of,h
three plumcs be il remembered, the mid
die and the nobIest one-to nod abov
the baby Prince of Wales, all royal,
sumbcrlng in his royal cradle,
|. was my destiny, in 1862, to com
meuoralc the conquest and bloodshed O
l3iJ-to represent an ancestral plnm
whereof poor John of Bohemia was plucket
that he OF he black mail might be nobI
fea,hcred: yes, it was my happy duty t
wave above lei Diem in 1862
Ich Dien-'I serve. Such is the Primo
Of Wales motto, and looking down upor
the prncelei's face-upon his velye
cheek brought into the world for th
wOrI1's MISUNDERSTANDING tho laclIv lido