The sun. [volume] (New York [N.Y.]) 1833-1916, 1897-10-24
SIMON DALE.
BY HOPE.
CHAPTER III.
THE MUSIC OF THE WORLD.

F1amsteed In the courses Of the stars or the great
Eewto in tho laws OF external nature were TO
take one possessed by n strong passion OF love,
or q bitter grief, or what o~vcrpowcring emo
ton you will, and were to consider impartially
and with cold precision what share Of his time
WIS in reality occupied by the thing which, as
w. are In tho habit OF saying, filled his thoughts
or swayed his lito or mastered his intellect.
tho world might we'll smile, and to my think
ing had better smile than weepl at the issue or
the investigation. When the first brief shock
WAS gone, how few out OF the solid twcnty-four
would be the hours claimed by the despot, how
over much the Poets might call him Unsuitable.
There IL sleeping, and meat and drink, the put
ting on nnd oil OF raimcrt and the buying of 1t.
II a man be of sound body, there Is his sport.
II he be sane, there are the interests of this life
and provision for the next. And II he be young
there Is natures own Joy in living that with n
patient, scorntul smile. sets aside his protest
that he is vowed to misery, and makes him,
willy. nilly, lnugh and sing. So that II he does
not drown himself in n week and thereby balk
tho inquiry. 1t Is odds that ae will compose
himself in n month and by the end OF a year
will carry no more marks of his misfortune
tAnn Of he he a man of sound heart mn added
sobricty and tenderness Of spirit. Set all
this does not injurc tho thing from returning, on
occasion given.
In my own casc-and II my story be fol-
lowed to its close, ! am persuaded that I shall
not DO held TO have been one who took the dis.
ease of love more lightly than my fellows-this
process of convalesCencc, most %salutary. yet in
d sense humiliating, was aided by a train Of
circumstances. in which my mother saw the ia
yor of heaven to our family and the vicar the
working Of Betty Nasroth's prophecy. An
uno.e Of my mother some forty years before
had established a mandatory Of wool at Nor
rich and having kent alWayS before his ewes
ehe truth that men must be clothed howsoever
they may think Of matters Of church and state,
and that 1t Is a clothweaver's business to clothe
them and not to think for them. had lived a
quiet life through all the disturbances, and had
prospered greatly in his trade. For marriage,
either time or inclination had failed him, and,
being now an old man. he felt a favorable dis
position toward me, and declared the intention
of making ne heir to a considerable portion of
his fortune, provided that l showed mys elf
worthy of such kindness. The proof he asked
was not beyond reason. though l found cause for
great lamcntation in 1t, for it was that, in lieu If
seekingto get to London. l should go to Norwich
and live there with him, to solace his last years,
and, although not engage III his trade, learn by
observation something Of the serious occupation
Of life, and of the condition of my fellow men. of
which things young gentlemen, said he, were for
the most part sadly ignorant.
iiiOV w. "Si ohu th's thouShI ~ wv
ter of a COMPANION for being wiser. To do any
thing or know anything that might rebound to
the benefit of man or the honor OF God was not
the mode in those days. Nor do l say that the
fashion has changed greatly, no, nor that it will
change. Therefore TO Norwich l went, although
reluctantly, and there | stayed full three years,
applying myself to The comforting OF my uncle's
old age. and consoling my leisure with the diver
sions which that great and important city at-
forded, and whi%.l, indeed. were enough for any
rational mind. But reason and youth are bad
belIcllOWs, and all the while WAS like the
lsraelites in the Wilderness. My thoughts were
s srob HgGn the n.r pFTTiInlSsed 20 l1 ,his, a mood | end ss, do my
the fact that little ot my life at Norwich lives
in my memory. and TO mat little l seldom recur
in thought: the time before it and the TIM after
engross my backward. glanccs. The end came
with my uncle's death. whereat ]. the recipi-
grieved, and that witt, seine reInorse since I
had caused him sorrow by refusing TO take up
and u moderate endowment 20 al! his fortune
saddled with the condition OF passing my days
as a cloth weaver. Had | chosen otherwise, |
should have lived u more peaceful and died a
richer man. Yet | do not repent; not riches.
the hand, and the service OF the brain make a
life that a man can look back Gil without shame
and With delight.
when | returned to Hatchstcad with an air and
manner, ] doubt not, sadly provincial, but with
II lining to my pocket for whose sake many a
gallant would have surrendered some OF his
pluines and feathers. Three thousand pounds.
invested in my uncle's business and returning
good and p%unct,a! profit, made o. Simon Dale
a person OF Tar greater Importance in the eyes
of his family than he had been three years ago.
1t was a competence on which a gentleman
could live with discretion and modesty; II was
LIES ladder, London was in my power, all it
hold Of promise and possibility was not beyond
the tRsn flight .S Of my soaring a, r mind; My sisters eS y
erence, and my, mother feared nothing save
that the great place. to which was now surely
destined might impair the hOlncly virtues which
she had instil!cd into me. As for the vicar, he
stroked his nose and glanced at me with an eye
DChtnl Ernln On flnt n1t ~ an ~ \rEratI, that 4
fell to laughing heartily.
Thus, being in great danger of differentiation
took the best medicine that could although
by no means with intention in waiting on my
manor, Here my swelicd spirit was smartiy
was no great man here, and, although my lord
received me very kindly. he had less 70 say
Of my manner and The rustic air Of my attire
Yet he bale mo, 20, to LONDON, since there, q
learned 10 appraise his own value, and lost The
ignorant conrcit of himself that n village great,
ness Us ant 70 breed somewhat ri"sil9ily,' :.
ask after Miss barbara.
."Shc Is wcl enough" he answered. smiling
verses to her; But she's, q good girl, Simon.
ss9yF n Z any yn& one o Pow"days,% he he's. said d dr ryG,
OF verses she had lately and he flung me III,
ES%psri ! GLANCED over i, and saw much nbou!
uhHHliHB ice, unnlcltlnk snow, v cnuS,
'DianG.' and SO forth.
~ seems sad stuff, my lord, . said !.
Why, yes, he laughed, but II is by II gentle
Simon"
shall I have the honor Of waiting on Mistress
Barbara, my Iordi' | asked.
Is to that, Simon, We will see when yor
GONE lo-, we must see what company 20,
keep. For example, on whom else do you thinl
OF Wa'tin; when You are set up in LOndonl'
iG looked steadily AT me, a Sigh! frown OF
nie Ups. ! grew hot, and knew that | grew rc(
also.
am ACQUAINTED with few in London, my
iornt ! s'amlncFcd, and with those not we'll.
hoac not well. indeed" he echoed. thu
quicker deepening and the smile vanishing. Yc
inc smile cH'ne again as he roso and clapped I'M
Your an honest lad, simon, he said. lever
thpueh II may have, pleased God to make yon
slliiy one. Ana, by heaven. who would have al
lads Tiaci Go to London, learn to know NOR
ipiR, learn to know better those whom yo,
member, Simon. whatsoever else tho King ma,
be, yet he Is the king"
SHHt III