The Eaton Democrat. (Eaton, Ohio) 1875-1903, 1883-02-01

tween JUS was clearly understood. Some
times as he passed me in the street, wear
ing grandly his red college gown and
his college hat, while I crept along with
my gown on my arm, he would give me
a ~patronizing nod, that was all. We be-
gan Greek and moral philosophy under
the same professors. 1t was the old
story. He wa the pet pupil of both.
He drank in learning like his mothers
milk. From the first Greek to the
second and third I followed him labor
iously-as a clumsy fedgling follows
the flight of some splendid eagle, whom
it seeks to emulate in vain.
"After we left college 1 lost sight of
him for some years. / believe he might
have received a bursary and gone
to Oxford, but his father, proud
as he was of his attachments, did
not want to spoil him for trade, and
his course. 1 myself took to pupil
teaching, having not yet decided to try
my fortune in literature.
"But one day, fired by sudden en-
thusiasm, l wrote a long letter to the
Glasgow Herald on some question of the
day. 1t was printed next morning in
all the glory of large type and signed
Thomas Carlyle 1t was the proudest
day of my life, but, alas!it was destined
to be overloaded. Towards afternoon
1 entered a coffee-shop and saw in the
compartment next to me, his head buried
in the paper, a human figure. The
paper was the Herald, open at the page
containing my letter. I sat blushing
with all the pride of fresh-blown author
ship. Presently the face looked up, and
l saw to my surprise my old school
fellow, Sandie Macpherson. Our eyes
met but his stony orbs gave no sign of
recognition. Then he turned to the
paper again and smiled! Yes, he was
reading my letter. 1t might astonish
the public but it could not impose upon
him. There were Latin and Greek
quotations in it and fragments of moral
philosophy; how ashamed l felt of them
as I saw them come under his baleful
eye! He smiled again, placed down the
paper, paid his reckoning and walked
out of the shop without a word. l went
home a miserable man. 1 might put on
grand airs before the public, but one
man knew my measure, and that man
was Sandie Macpherson.
at was no use arguing with myself
that the man was an idiot; that although
he was glib at uptaking what was taught
him, he had neither talent nor originality.
The memory of those early days haunted
me like a shadow.
myself-with a history of my literary
struggles till 1 conquered the book
faster, the magazine editor and the pub
Usher, and became a recognized pro-
Queer of the popul&r literary article.
Years passed away. In the course of
years L emigrated to London on the
invitation of John Mill, the philosopher.
Then 1 published my first book, and, as
I have told you, it was a failure. I re-
trieved myself by my second, which was
about half as good and not neal SO
earnest as the first. 1 still had Glasgow
and Sandie Macpherson in my mind
when l failed or succeeded, but in course
of time the impression grew DINNER and
DINNER. 1t was one fine day that
John Mill returning from the North,
where he had been lecturing on some
political subject, spoke to me as follows:
".By the way, Carlyle, 1 met an old
schoolfellow of yours in Glasgow
".Ay, indeedp' I said, feeling the
blood mount to my face in a moment.
"tA man named Macpherson, a small
tradesman, and a member of the local
club which took me down. A prosy
fellow, and very sarcastic. He amused
me very much with his dry "reminiscences
of your school-days and seemed greatly
astonished that you had made any mark
in the world
81 forced a laugh, but I felt hot and
cold all over.
"tDo you remember himP' proceeded
Mill. He remembers you wonderfully
carelessness. Il believe there was a lad
of that name in the class with me, but
I've almost forgotten him. lists a
long time ago
'tHypocrite that 1 was! Did John Mill
know that 1 was lying? He looked at
for some moments with an amused
smile, as if he were calling up some queer
Renaissance; and I--Icoul have Drained
him. Some little time after that John
Mill and fell out. He wrote a criticism
of Buckles History of Civilization 1
handled the same book next quarter and
turned Mill arguments inside out in no
very complimentary fashion. Mill was
a sensitive man, and a while after that
he cut me dead in the street. We made
it up afterwards, but were never the
same as before. Till the day of his death
1 never gave him any explanation. I
cared no more for Buckle or his argu-
ments than for that fly on the wall!
Buckle, indeed-the poor, silly, over
crammed Cockney gowk! The real
cause of my attack on John Mill was
anger and irritation. Sandie Macpher-
son, again, was at the bottom of it all!
ga year or so after this 1 went down
to Glasgow on business. By that time
l had made a name for myself and my
visit caused a stir in the city. 1 stayed
with the Lord Provost silly man, with
a staggering taste for philosophy. After
a few days l grew very weary Of being
lionized; for nearly every day there was
a grand dinner, and l was bored to death
with the admiration of daft folk of both
sexes. One forenoon as l was wander
ing about the streets looking at the old
houses and calling to mind the places 1
had known when a lad, l passed down
the Gallowgate and saw the name of
Alexander Macpherson over a small
g%rocer's shop. Now, l was in a sympa-
thetic mood that day; the contemplation
of old scenes and the thought of the
kindness of my countrymen had touched
my heart, and it melted suddenly at the
name of my old schoolfellow. Could it
possibly be the same? Before 1 knew
what 1 was doing L had entered the shop.
eyes, I was right. There, standing
behind the counter, was Sandie, himself,
older, grimmer, but neat and clean as
usual. As I entered he was measuring
out a pound of moist sugar for a bare
footed servant lassie in petticoat and
short gown.
MI. Macpherson 1 said, when he
had done.
He looked up and our eyes met. 1
saw in a moment that he recognized me,
but his face remained grim and granite
and his eye was cold as ice.
That's my name he replied.
4 smiled, and prepared to hold out
my hand.
4 think we were schoolmates together.
NV name is CARLYLE, Thomas CARLYLE.