Semi-weekly interior journal. [volume] (Stanford, Ky.) 1881-1905, 1886-05-07
AMBROSE MALET.

4 Il
been ordained 10 q curacy, and was taking
my first holiday. was a fresh-looking
young fellow in those days, holding serious
views Of life, and though young for my
years, had the fullest sense OF the dignity
no less than the responsibilities, of the
sacred profession had lately entered.
To do right myself, and to set everybody
else right, seemed TO me the most important
thing in life and the first part of the propo.
sition at any rate, 10 not bad formula for
a man 10 start with on his hfe's career.
had set cut on my travels alone, and
piunging at once into some of the more pict-
uresque Belgian scenery, found myself on
the ev, ming of the third day, supping in the
big hotel Of little village lying among the
hills and woods / was supping alone at
the end of long table Of an empty sale q
manger when a young man entered, and
calling for coffee and cognac, sat down in
the circle of light just opposite TO me He
was a man Of about 30. with pleasant and
remarkably clever face and, presently fall
ing into conversation with him, discovered
| he was the village doctor. He was a native
of the place, able 70 give me information, Of
which was In need, concerning the sur
rounding country; and we were engaged in
talking, with my travelling map spread on
the table between us, when a waiter entered
and addressed few words TO my compln-
ion in low voice.
Excuse me for a moment" he said, turn
ing TO me courteously, there is sick man
upstairs who requires my attendance l
shall not be gone many minutes"
In less than a quarter of an hour he re-
turned, and sat down opposite to me again
but he did not &C once resume our CONVEX
sation- He sat with his hands clasped be-
hind his head, gazing before him in silence
"A sad case" he said at last, letting his
hands fall to hiA side; "A life thrown away.
A young fello wounded mortally in a
duel, and brought in here yesterday to die.
All the doctors in Europe could not save
him He won't live through the night"
an a duell" l said, surprised Such
things, so far, had lain outside the range Of
my experience.
Yes, with some Frenchman. They had
come here across the frontier Such affairs
are not uncommon hereabout, but they
rarely terminate fatally. The other fellow
has made of. This one, by the bye, is a
countryman Of yours Stay, have his
name somewhere"
He fumbled in his pocket for notebook,
and abstracting q card, handed it to me
across the table l read tho name; let
the card drop.
GOOD God" l said. Ambrose Malet"
"Do you know himr said the doctor
II know the name-it may be another
man" ! answered, in profound agitation.
as be young-a big, loose-limbed man, with
marked features, a large nose, dull brown
hair lying straight across his forehead, and
the kindest, the most genial smile imagin
able!n
GYour description answers in every par
ticular," said the doctor, except, indeed, as
regards the smile, which / have not seen
He looks sad enough, poor fellow He is
young, about your own age, should think"
He looked at me with a momentary humor-
Gus CLEAN that seemed TO say: ain all other
respects as unlike you as possible. He has
gray eyes and wears no beard; ON his little
finger is a green signet ring II you are a
friend of his shall DO glad. ! asked him
today If / should send TO any one, and he
replied that he had no relations and not a
friend in the world that would come to him"
TIE tears rushed to my eyes; could not
help it. / rose, and walking to one of the
long windows stood with my back turned
TO the room, looking out on the moonlit
garden
Threeyears before, at Oxford, Ambrose
Malet had been my best friend A lonely
man, a solitary soul, he had sought me out
through one of those contradictions that
sometimes provoke and cement the hrmest
friendships He was little known personally
at Oxford, yet made his mark at once as a
man Of powers 50 unusual that everything
might be expected Of him The expecta
ton was founded on q misconception OF his
character; and yet perhaps not Who shall
say since death came &C six and twenty to
-.lu ~. 81
prodigious and unfailing memory, an almost
incredible facility for acquiring and assimi-
lating knowledge, were combined with one
Of the strongest and most original minds /
have ever come across. He took, without
appreciable effort every honor that Ok
ford has TO offer, and he took them with alb.
so.ute indifference knowledge, and always
more Of the knowledge that he acquired
with such ease, seemed all that he desired
He read for hours, not as the bookworm
reads, or the ordinary student, but with
lrJdigious, devouring curiosity, an insati-
abe craving, until in one direction or an
other he reached the final limit and faced
the blank beyond. At such times, as
learned to know, he fell into a dependency
that lasted sometimes for days. then rousing
himself he would start again OH SONS other
track, TO arrive at the same result His
mind, say, was one of the strangest have
met with; but 1t had no impulse that ever
discovered toward original creation, little
even towvrd original research
He would take up some branch of science
and devour every book on it he could find;
hut that done, he made no in dependent effort
toward fresh discovery-he turned to soms-
thing else. Some spring that moves TO
lractical action, some link common between
man and life, was lacking in him; his soul
dwelt solitary and apart, thirsting, drink
ing, Unsuitable; only demanding incessantly
what no man ever yet had-no nor can
have ever until the end of time
He had few acquaintance at Oxford, and
no intimate friend but myself Sometimes
he would come TO my rooms and silently
watching me as ploddsd On at my reading.
Ny vocation had early been fixed, and l
never wavered in my choice; had never
any idea but that Of entering the church
Aalet would sit smoking and watching me
in silence Not unfrequently we took long
walks together.
Sometimes our walk would begin and en- 4
in almost total silence. At other times his
flow OF conversation was almost unceasing;
and have not yet met tho man who can
talk as Malet did when the mood was upon
him ! would not II could, try to repro
duce those talha What withered and scent
less weeds are thoss that would fain represent
H. ~ lat o..