The examiner. [volume] (Louisville, Ky.) 1847-1849, 1848-04-01


seveIing. s-, al
For three or four hours he continued to
wander on, stopping at intervals, as often
as opportunity offered. to chalk upon the
enclosures Of new buildings, on dead walls,
or on. the doors of ouhouses, or stabling, !
words which he could not spell, and had
barely chance Of making legible. Pa
tiently did he repeat the essay, and slowly
did he labor to give distinctness 10 what ne
wrote. Often interrupted, he constantly re-
sumed his endeavor when the interruption
ceased. And frequent and
fierce were the assaults to which his perse-
verance exposed him, as he slowly and ST.
len,Iy crawled on his way, and then recon-
menced the seemingly forlorn and crazy ex-
pertinent with his piece OF chalk. Not with
harsh and threatening words alone, but Of
ten with rude and violent thrusts, was the
aged pedestrian driven along; but he renew
ed his attempt when out Of sight, and raised
his eyes every two or three minutes to the
starless and Implying sky. in muitered and
inarticulate prayer for a blessing on his en-
deavOr.
He had now threaded his way through
vast number of streets, generally avoiding
the leading and crowded thoroughfsIes, when
he found himself in one OF the obscurer parts
Of Marylebone. Sick at the very heart,
weary to degree that under less stimulat-
ing circumstances, would have been utter
exhaustion, the shops nearly all closed, and
the streets scant of passengers, while the
rain, descending less ftfully with abated
gusts Of wind, gave sign Of its continuance;
the old man did now feel desolate almost
beyond endurance; When, as he passed a
house that stood somewhat backward in a
quiet corner of the street, a sound of merry
making, Of jocund, laughing, screaming, hui
man voices broke upon his ear. The wan
derer suddenly stopped. What a contrast
between their noisy shouting revels, and the
blank and dreary silence of that old man
aching heart! But his heart now beat, gent
| ly at FIRST, and then more strongly and more
quickly-beat with pulse that owned q
keen and penetrating pleasure for its mover,
as his ear caught in those sounds of unre.
strained and riotous reloicings the voices OF
children.
1t was a holiday making, a birthday eel
ebration, and they were sitting up late. with
sparkling eyes that seemed as if they were
never to know sleep again, to a genuine
snap-dragon, anticipating Christmas. The
old man felt the rain less than ever, though
it poured fast upon him from the ledge Over
the shutters, while he listened intently tc
t discriminate the various voices Of the shout
ers, and catch them separately as they broke
forth and blended into one wild nmut o.
delight. Each in successian he seemed to
note and dwell upon; from the low, inward
bubbling, heart-shaking laugh, intensely JOY
Gus, and struggling to escape into the relic
of loudness, to the high pitehed, long. breath
, ed, uncomfortable scream Of rapture that ter
inmates, only Just in time, in tears and pant
ings. The same happy voice and the sant
wild laugh he recognised again and again
yet the pleasure within him died away, AM
his heart shrunk up, und lost its glow, ant
felt still, and cold. and desolate as before
n He had heard them al, all the little voice
one after another; he was certain that hi
: ear had not missed a single sound; but
e had recognised no tone that was familiar Il
il, no music like that i craved; no, nothin,
: like it; for among the sounds Of earth Their
K was no resemblance 70 the sweet, low music
OF that one voice for which his soul, ra.he
n than his sense, was evermme listening ngh
and day, in the wild visions of sleep, as il
the desert haunts, the ito him) unpeople'
2 streets Of the thronged and uumultuous city
But might there not be among the crow,
Of happy faces round the table, one siie'l
a child, one sad quiet gazer, one pale and gentl
beholder OF happiness in which she cOuldn'
entirely participate, although. she could nc
quite shut the sense OF it from her heart, on
whose breathings were of stiied regret NOR
h than Of active Joy, Of fear, surprise, an
thoughts OF tears shed recently. and to b
shed again too soon, rather than of pleasur
c in the rude and novel livelinass Of the scene
1t was foolish, very foolish, he knew; il wa
vain and useless; yet something, il SCENE
to be whisper in his heart, told him il mi gh
S be. Should he knock; and pray, not in tn
: name Of humanity, but Of Heaven that pu
y divinity in it. for the charity Of kind ar
a swer to one fond and silly question! Shout
t he risk the sharp repulse, and trust for hi
e excuse to those beautiful sympathies. TO thos
e exquisite emotions Of nature which linkin
e the old to the young, parents and children
e in that common dwelling, were convertin
: il into temple Of concord, charity, an
: love-
Such were his thoughts; though they wore
as they awoke within him, honeler garb
He sat down on the doorstep to wait. Al
{ ter time, a coach came for some Of the chill
|, dren; he saw them, one by one, but the,
1 were strangers. Half dozen went, ant
: then more. He scanned their features a
{ though he halfhoped to see some face h
4 knew. At last all were gone. The fame,
that even into that fold OF luxury (colnpare'
E with his own home,) amongst that gay an,
= fortunate flock, one shorn lamb might hav
slrayed and found shelter, was indeed idle
; The door closed, driving the shivering oil,
: man upon that desolate prospect and DIES
D pairing task, from which he had been thu
! attracted by sudden peals Of childish laugh
D ter, and the associations to which they ha,
: given rise. ..-
S Now once more he journeyed onward
! He bent his steps Qhe clocI
d warning him it was near daybreak) to hi
, wretched home, in one Of the poorest DIS
S tricts OF Westminster. Advanced but lii
a tie way, he stopped to make one final lria