david elginbrod- 第72部分

I　may　as　well　insert　here　another　letter；　which　arrived　at
Turriepuffit；　likewise　addressed　to　David；　some　six　weeks　after　the
foregoing。　　They　were　both　taken　to　Janet；　of　course：

〃SIR；I　have　heard　from　one　who　knows　you；　that　you　believereally
believe　in　God。　That　is　why　I　write　to　you。　　It　may　seem　very
strange　in　me　to　do　so；　but　how　can　I　help　it？　　I　am　a　very　unhappy
woman；　for　I　am　in　the　power　of　a　bad　man。　　I　cannot　explain　it　all
to　you；　and　I　will　not　attempt　it；　for　sometimes　I　almost　think　I　am
out　of　my　mind；　and　that　it　is　all　a　delusion。　　But；　alas！　delusion
or　not；　it　is　a　dreadful　reality　to　me　in　all　its　consequences。　　It
is　of　such　a　nature　that　no　one　can　help　mebut　God；　if　there　be　a
God；　and　if　you　can　make　me　believe　that　there　is　a　God；　I　shall　not
need　to　be　persuaded　that　he　will　help　me；　for　I　will　besiege　him
with　prayers　night　and　day　to　set　me　free。　　And　even　if　I　am　out　of
my　mind；　who　can　help　me　but　him？　　Ah！　is　it　not　when　we　are　driven
to　despair；　when　there　is　no　more　help　anywhere；　that　we　look　around
for　some　power　of　good　that　can　put　right　all　that　is　wrong？　　Tell
me；　dear　sir；　what　to　do。　　Tell　me　that　there　certainly　is　a　God；
else　I　shall　die　raving。　　He　said　you　knew　about　him　better　than
anybody　else。

〃I　am；　honoured　Sir；

〃Your　obedient　servant；

〃EUPHRASIA　CAMERON。

〃Arnstead；　Surrey；　&c。；　&c。〃

David's　answer　to　this　letter；　would　have　been　something　worth
having。　　But　I　think　it　would　have　been　all　summed　up　in　one　word：
Try　and　see：　call　and　listen。

But　what　could　Janet　do　with　such　letters？　　She　did　the　only　thing
she　could：　she　sent　them　to　Margaret。

Hugh　found　it　no　great　hardship　to　go　to　bed　in　the　same　room　in
which　he　sat。　　The　bed　looked　peculiarly　inviting；　for；　strange　to
tell；　it　was　actually　hung　with　the　same　pattern　of　old…fashioned
chintz；　as　the　bed　which　had　been　his　from　his　earliest
recollection；　till　he　left　his　father's　house。　　How　could　he　mistake
the　trees；　growing　with　tufts　to　the　ground；　or　the　great　birds
which　he　used　to　think　were　crows；　notwithstanding　their　red　and
yellow　plumage？　　It　was　all　over　red；　brown；　and　yellow。　　He　could
remember；　and　reconstruct　the　very　faces；　distorted　and　awful；
which；　in　the　delirium　of　childish　sicknesses；　he　used　to　discover
in　the　foliage　and　stems　of　the　trees。　　It　made　the　whole　place　seem
to　him　homely　and　kind。　　When　he　got　tired；　he　knelt　by　his　bedside；
which　he　had　not　done　for　a　long　time；　and　then　went　to　bed。
Hardship！　　No。　It　was　very　pleasant　to　see　the　dying　fire；　and　his
books　about　and　his　papers；　and　to　dream；　half…asleep　and
half…awake；　that　the　house…fairies　were　stealing　out　to　gambol　for　a
little　in　the　fire…lighted　silence　of　the　room　as　he　slept；　and　to
vanish　as　the　embers　turned　black。　　He　had　not　been　so　happy　for　a
long　time　as　now。　　The　writing　of　that　letter　had　removed　a　load
from　his　heart。　　True；　we　can　never　be　at　peace　till　we　have
performed　the　highest　duty　of　alltill　we　have　arisen；　and　gone　to
our　Father；　but　the　performance　of　smaller　duties；　yes；　even　of　the
smallest；　will　do　more　to　give　us　temporary　repose；　will　act　more　as
healthful　anodynes；　than　the　greatest　joys　that　can　come　to　us　from
any　other　quarter。　　He　soon　fell　asleep；　and　dreamed　that　he　was　a
little　child　lost　in　a　snow…storm；　and　that　just　as　the　snow　had
reached　above　his　head；　and　he　was　beginning　to　be　smothered；　a
great　hand　caught　hold　of　him　by　the　arm　and　lifted　him　out；　and；
lo！　the　storm　had　ceased；　and　the　stars　were　sparkling　overhead　like
diamonds　that　had　been　drinking　the　light　of　the　sun　all　day；　and　he
saw　that　it　was　David；　as　strong　as　ever；　who　had　rescued　him；　the
little　child；　and　was　leading　him　home　to　Janet。　　But　he　got　sleepy
and　faint　upon　the　way；　which　was　long　and　cold；　and　then　David
lifted　him　up　and　carried　him　in　his　bosom；　and　he　fell　asleep。
When　he　woke；　and；　opening　his　eyes；　looked　up　to　him　who　bore　him；
it　was　David　no　longer。　　The　face　was　that　which　was　marred　more
than　any　man's；　because　the　soul　within　had　loved　more；　it　was　the
face　of　the　Son　of　Man；　and　he　was　carrying　him　like　a　lamb　in　his
bosom。　　He　gazed　more　and　more　as　they　travelled　through　the　cold
night；　and　the　joy　of　lying　in　the　embrace　of　that　man；　grew　and
grew；　till　it　became　too　strong　for　the　bonds　of　sleep；　and　he　awoke
in　the　fog　of　a　London　morning。




CHAPTER　III。

ENDEAVOURS。

And；　even　should　misfortunes　come；
I；　here　wha　sit；　hae　met　wi'　some；
　　An's　thankfu'　for　them　yet。
They　gie　the　wit　of　age　to　youth；
　　They　let　us　ken　oursel'；
They　mak'　us　see　the　naked　truth；
　　The　real　guid　and　ill。
　　　　　Tho'　losses；　and　crosses；
　　　　　　　Be　lessons　right　severe；
　　　　　There's　wit　there；　ye'll　get　there；
　　　　　Ye'll　find　nae　other　where。

BURNS。


Hugh　took　his　advertisement　to　the　Times　office；　and　paid　what
seemed　to　him　an　awful　amount　for　its　insertion。　　Then　he　wandered
about　London　till　the　middle　of　the　day；　when　he　went　into　a　baker's
shop；　and　bought　two　penny　loaves；　which　he　put　in　his　pocket。
Having　found　his　way　to　the　British　Museum；　he　devoured　them　at　his
leisure　as　he　walked　through　the　Grecian　and　Roman　saloons。　〃What　is
the　use　of　good　health；〃　he　said　to　himself；　〃if　a　man　cannot　live
upon　bread？〃　　Porridge　and　oatmeal　cakes　would　have　pleased　him　as
well；　but　that　food　for　horses　is　not　so　easily　procured　in　London；
and　costs　more　than　the　other。　　A　cousin　of　his　had　lived　in
Edinburgh　for　six　months　upon　eighteen…pence　a　week　in　that　way；　and
had　slept　the　greater　part　of　the　time　upon　the　floor；　training
himself　for　the　hardships　of　a　soldier's　life。　　And　he　could　not
forget　the　college　youth　whom　his　comrades　had　considered　mean；　till
they　learned　that；　out　of　his　poor　bursary　of　fourteen　pounds　a
session；　and　what　he　could　make　besides　by　private　teaching　at　the
rate　previously　mentioned　or　even　less；　he　helped　his　parents　to
educate　a　younger　brother；　and；　in　order　to　do　so；　lived　himself
upon　oatmeal　and　potatoes。　　But　they　did　not　find　this　out　till
after　he　was　dead；　poor　fellow！　　He　could　not　stand　it。

I　ought　at　the　same　time　to　mention；　that　Hugh　rarely　made　use　of　a
crossing　on　a　muddy　day；　without　finding　a　half…penny　somewhere
about　him　for　the　sweeper。　　He　would　rather　walk　through　oceans　of
mud；　than　cross　at　the　natural　place　when　he　had　no
coppersespecially　if　he　had　patent　leather　boots　on。

After　he　had　eaten　his　bread；　he　went　home　to　get　some　water。　　Then；
as　he　had　nothing　else　to　do；　he　sat　down　in　his　room；　and　began　to
manufacture　a　story；　thinking　it　just　possible　it　might　be　accepted
by　one　or　other　of　the　pseudo…literary　publications　with　which
London　is　inundated　in　hebdomadal　floods。　　He　found　spinning　almost
as　easy　as　if　he　had　been　a　spider；　for　he　had　a　ready　invention；
and　a　natural　gift　of　speech；　so　that；　in　a　few　days；　he　had
finished　a　story；　quite　as　good　as　most　of　those　that　appear　in　the
better　sort　of　weekly　publications。　　This；　in　his　modesty；　he　sent
to　one　of　the　inferior　sort；　and　heard　nothing　more　of　it　than　if　he
had　flung　it　into　the　sea。　　Possibly　he　flew　too　low。　　He　tried
again；　but　with　no　better　success。　　His　ambition　grew　with　his
disappointments；　or　perhaps　rather　with　the　exercise　of　his
faculties。　　Before　many　days　had　passed　he　made　up　his　mind　to　try　a
novel。　　For　three　months　he　worked　at　this　six　hours　a　day
regularly。　　When　material　failed　him；　from　the　exhaustion　consequent
upon　uninterrupted　production；　he　would　recreate　himself　by　lying
fallow　for　an　hour　or　two；　or　walking　out　in　a　mood　for　merely
passive　observation。　　But　this　anticipates。

His　advertisement　did　not　produce　a　single　inquiry；　and　he　shrunk
from　spending　more　money　in　such　an　apparently　unprofitable
appliance。　　Day　after　day　went　by；　and　no　voice　reached　him　from　the
unknown　world　of　labour。　　He　went　at　last　to　several　stationers'
shops　in　the　neighbourhood；　bought　some　necessary　articles；　and　took
these　opportunities　of　asking　if　they　knew　of　any　one　in　want　of
such　assistance　as　he　could　give。　　But　unpleasant　as　he　felt　it　to
make　such　inquiries；　he　soon　found　that　to　most　people　it　was
equally　unpleasant　to　reply　to　them。　　There　seemed　to　be　something
disreputable　in　having　to　answer　such　questions；　to　judge　from　the
constrained；　indifferent；　and　sometimes；　though　not　often；　surly
answers　which　he　received。　〃Can　it　be；〃　thought　Hugh；　〃as
disgraceful　to　ask　for　work　as　to　ask　for　bread？〃　　If　he　had　had　a
thousand　a　year；　and　had　wanted　a　situation　of　another　thousand；　it
would　have　been　quite　commendable；　but　to　try　to　elude　cold　and
hunger　by　inquiring　after　paltry　shillings'　worths　of　hard　labour；
was　despicable。

So　he　placed　the　more　hope　upon　his　novel；　and　worked　at　that
diligently。　　But　he　did　not　find　it　quite　so　easy　as　he　had　at　first
expected。　　No　one　finds　anything　either　so　easy　or　so　difficult　as；
in　opposite　moods；　he　had　expected　to　find　it。　　Everything　is
possible；　but　without　labour　and　failure　nothing　is　achievable。　　The
labour；　however；　comes　naturally；　and　experience　grows　without
agonizing　transitions；　while　the　failure　generally　points；　in　its
detected　c