The national era. [volume] (Washington [D.C.]) 1847-1860, 1856-09-25

| aru, auo Vassai stiii TO duty. For q twelve
month, then, go a-huckstering with all your
might; after that, it will be time enough to
throw yourself upon your fathers good sense as
well as natural kindliness. With regard to the
entire abandonment of oar profession. must
decline to play the stern Mentor at all it is not
night that such noble gift as yours should be
| thrown away. Practice is a necessity with art
1t has no allegiance, but only retropression. or
| Improvement. Do not, however, let it interrupt
your practical duties, nor let your-master {?
what is the superintendent, manager, head
and front of this place you are going TO- called y
yes, nor let your old master-Titian, Correggio,
or Michael Angelo, let us suppose-have occa-
sion to report you given to pictures, when your
whole soul should be absorbed in prints. 1
have lett OFT my sermon, you see, with most
undeniable pun; but under the mask of Mr.
Merriman, you cannot tell what sad counte-
nance 1 have concealed. Be sure, dearest bow,
l know the struggle that must needs be going
on, the pride that has to be broken, the vision
to be dispelied, and the happy summer hours
to be fruitlessly consumed.
| 81 think the view of the Near Lake admira.
bic. How kind of you to imagine the boat
house where had always wished to have it.
among the ws.ows, under the chalk cliff You
have heard, suppose, your cousin has got
| Lymeton. He will be almost as rich as YOU
will be. hope your good people don't abuse
me-before you, at least. They must do me
much wrong yet, before l forget past kind.
nesses; nay, was it not through them, indeed,
that FIRST knew you my Apeiles, nv Zeuxis'
my Paul Veronesel Ever, dearest Richard,
most devotedly yours, -"
| A loving letter, indeed, was this and vet not
the letter of lover-about such a simple mat.
ter as q choice of profession, as it seems. and
to one upon the threshold of the great world
merely, with youth, and health, and riches, lin
prospective, at least,) upon his side. No very
tragic business-a lady playing at Mentor with
youth who fancies he can paint, and believes
himself to be genius.
This runs in the same hand, but to another
and sadder measure. Years must have inter
vened between these two, but the beginning is
here, as always, Dearest Richard"
| "pEAREsr RICHARD, How could you have
taken this sad step without my knowledge2 1
do not ask to be consulted, to be thought wor-
thy OF directing you; but surely, dearest, you
might have hinted-you know how slight hint
would have understanding limited at this
total change in your fortunes. SO you have
left your home cast off or casting oft matters
little now-your worldly but loving father. l
fear it was done suddenly, rashly, most unduti-
fullyi but it is done. My dear boy, e4OO will
go but very, very little way towards your main
tenance, without considering the cost OF pursuing
your profession; and as you say, so fear it is,
there is no hope nor possibility Of more. Good
Heaven from the delicacy and splendor in
which you have been brought up, this will be a
bitter changes but since the die is cast, now is
the time for us to put in practice those fine
precepts of frugality, of honor, of independence,
we have so often spoken of. Ihave been amass-
ing-not saving, dearest Richard, but simply
setting aside of my superfuity-yellow gold, like
a female Crnsus, for these five years. I have
positively no use for tin this house, have
all l want; and shopping you know, was
never one of my woman's weaknesses; there is,
therefore, E20O or so, which you have only to
ask for. Say how you will have it, as the
banking people do, and it shall be sent to you.
With regard to your excursion, have the high
est hopes OF it. Early and late, rain or shine,
under every possible variety of feature, study
the Great Mother. don't recommend Wales,
simply because know you would come here,
if did, and would not see you, dearest Rich.
ard, for worlds. Your hair and eyes alone,
quite unaided by your dreadful sentiments and
| rather Sagabondish occupation, would frighten
these Prim people into-sending for the consta-
BILE. They would not keep me another hour in
the family; it's SO very genteel,' as the song
says; and, U Zeuxis, you know it would never
90 for us Doth to be seeking our fortunes at the
same identical time. No; try the English
lakes; and for burma beck in these parts,
by the by-there are none equal to that midway
upon the west side of Thirlnere 1t is not fire.
quented, aad scarcely even known, indeed, and
comprehends every description of stream see
merry. There are cheap and clearly lodgings
thereabout, and even a room that may be tas6e
to be q painting room, do not recommend
historical sffortsj the expense, too, is now be-
come q matter of paramount importance. Did
| not weep with you upon the rejection of The
Wilderness?' l have read that these things
must happen, and always have happened, to
the greatest men but itseens q cruel business.
If We could bit have taken the committee to
the very spot-the glorious, untrodden soltnd-
where nothing but your plee. accents sang
10 the Stiffness inc very wood of Arden, where
we read the ancient play so ftly-surely they
must have hung your picture in the best place
of the middle room, bower of bliss for Lon
doners to long for in the leafy June. But
dare say they would have picnicked--this com.
mittee-after all, there, and eaten ham-sand-
ture? No-as you say-hang them! NV dear,
Richard, we are both well-nigh friendless but
l, who have been SO long used to fight my way,
aud put my feelings out of sight, am no worse
Oh than l have often been; for you is my great
anxiety, for you my only sorrow. ! pray fer
vently that you may accomplish your noble as.
plratons; you are right in thinking your calling
divine one. Your works have ever been a
comfort to my heart, drawing tears to refresh
1t from the pleasant springs of memory. Do
not, do not, dearest boy, take this rejection so
Ill; do not even despise the advice of the
, white-waistcoated.' He meant it kindly, and
E at least knows what takes with sight aeers
write to me. Leave no stone unturned in order
. 70 be reconciled to your father; sacrifice pride
characterization for me even. dearest, OF
Rather the expression of it-give up all save
truth and the mission which | doubt of even
Tess IMAM you. Ever thine,-."
very long interval, by both external and
inward evidence, must have now interviewed
arrange resolution, to be wondered at, If not
to be blamed, is here adopted. I myself have
by thus time arrived at the belief that Cathe-
rne" can do nothing wrong.
"MY nEAREsT, nEAREsT Boy: shall give up
6 my situation at once. l have-I think told
You-been sick and tired of this sort of life this
6 long waile; now, whatever you think about it,
do not consider myself either too old or too
ugly p marry; and marry l shall, and that
speedily. We women are, as you know, tickle
to ptoverb; and begin to think better and
more kindly of Sir Gilbert than formerly. ]
iatter myself have long ago dispelled your
] suspicious about the worthy knight, and that
, This vail come as surprise to you. Hunger
< brought to this Threatened by rude, uncivil
, hands, tool swear to you, nay womans teeth
5 ret hard when I read your letter.
III thought saw again that noble brow first
! iaied from your favorite occupation to greet
D ne as / came amongst your stately people, a
{ lelendent, and without q friend the stern,
v had father still 90 proud of You, the doting