The Kenosha telegraph. [volume] (Kenosha, Wis.) 1860-1888, 1873-03-06
A MARTYR TO LEISURE.


ography, thus describes one of his
fathers partners in business:
CA man Of letters, educated to ev-
cry classical attainment, and the in
heritor of a princely fortune, this gen
tleman had been abel to gratify,at a
wish, his cultivated tastes. His mar
riage was fortunate, and his children
grew up around him with the fairest
promise. He had handsome town
house in fashionable square In Lon
don, and country-seat six or eight
miles off in the midst Of one Of those
magnificent English parks, the ideal
of stately rural elegance,-with its
trinity kept lawn and it's widespread
ing chase, dotted over with clumps
of noble old trees, where the deer
sought refuge from the monday heat,
and lair at nightfaH.
It's owner hadtraveled over Europe,
and brought back, as mementoes of
his journey, paintings and statuary by
some of the best masters, ancient and
modern, with which to adorn his "a
vorite retreat. The house itself. in
which I spent some happy days, with
its rich marble columns and balus-
trades, was fine specimen Of the
purest Palladin manner, where all
that luxurious refinement could devise
had been unsparingly lavished.
There my father-during a briet
interval in his own public life
sof incessant hustle - found
his friend, with no occupation
more pressing than to pore
over the treasures Of his library, and
no grayer care than to superintend
the riches of a conservatory, where
wealth had brought together, from
half the world, it's choicest plants
and flowers. They spent some days
of undisturbed quiet; not an Incl
dent beyond the conversation of a Sc
date and intellectual family circle and
the arrival and departure of friend
or two to break the complete repose.
Delightful my father thought it, in
contrast with the busy turmoil he had
left; and one day he said to his host,
I've been thinking that if l ever met
man who has nothing to desire, you
must be he. You have health, cult
walton, charming family. You have
gathered round you every comfort
wealth can give, the choicest Of all
that art and nature can supply. Are
you not completely happy?'
Never, my father said to me, would
he forget the sad, unexpected reply
Happy All, Mr.. Owen, I committed
one fatal error in my youth, and dear
| ly have paid for i, I started in
life without all object
almost with out an ambi-
ton. My temperament disposed me
to ease, and / INDUCED it. l said to
myself, 81 have all that I see others
contending for; why should I strug.
gle ?" I knew not the curse that
lights on those who have never to
struggle for anything. l ought tc
have created for myself some definite
pursuit, literary, scientific, artistic.
political, no matter what, so there
was something to labor for and tc
overcome. Then ! might have been
happy,
My father suggested that he was
scarcely past the prime Of life, and
that in q hundred ways he might sill
benefit others, while occupying him.
self. Come and spend a month or two
at Braxfeld,' he added. 'You have a
larger share in the Lanark mills than
any of my partners. See for yourself
what has been done for the work-peo.
iple there and for their children !; and
give me the benefit Of your sugges,
tons and your aid
1T is too late was the reply. 'The
power is gone. Habits are become
chains. You can work and do good;
but for me-in all the profitless years
gone by I seek vainly for something
to remember with pride, or even to
dwell on with satisfaction. [ have
thrown away a life. Ifeel, sometimes
as if there were nothing remaining to
me worth living for s..e
And neither then, nor at any future