I felt them coming in the laden air；
And watched them laboring up to vocal breath；
Even as the first…born at his father's board
Knows ere he speaks the too familiar jest
Is on its way； by some mysterious sign
Forewarned； the click before the striking bell。
He shrivelled as I spread my growing leaves；
Till trust and reverence changed to pitying care；
He lived for me in what he once had been；
But I for him； a shadow； a defence；
The guardian of his fame； his guide； his staff；
Leaned on so long he fell if left alone。
I was his eye； his ear； his cunning hand；
Love was my spur and longing after fame；
But his the goading thorn of sleepless age
That sees its shortening span； its lengthening shades；
That clutches what it may with eager grasp；
And drops at last with empty； outstretched hands。
All this he dreamed not。 He would sit him down
Thinking to work his problems as of old；
And find the star he thought so plain a blur；
The columned figures labyrinthine wilds
Without my comment； blind and senseless scrawls
That vexed him with their riddles； he would strive
And struggle for a while； and then his eye
Would lose its light； and over all his mind
The cold gray mist would settle； and erelong
The darkness fell； and I was left alone。
Alone！ no climber of an Alpine cliff；
No Arctic venturer on the waveless sea；
Feels the dread stillness round him as it chills
The heart of him who leaves the slumbering earth
To watch the silent worlds that crowd the sky。
Alone！ And as the shepherd leaves his flock
To feed upon the hillside； he meanwhile
Finds converse in the warblings of the pipe
Himself has fashioned for his vacant hour；
So have I grown companion to myself；
And to the wandering spirits of the air
That smile and whisper round us in our dreams。
Thus have I learned to search if I may know
The whence and why of all beneath the stars
And all beyond them； and to weigh my life
As in a balance； poising good and ill
Against each other；…asking of the Power
That flung me forth among the whirling worlds；
If I am heir to any inborn right；
Or only as an atom of the dust
That every wind may blow where'er it will。
I am not humble； I was shown my place；
Clad in such robes as Nature had at hand；
Took what she gave； not chose； I know no shame；
No fear for being simply what I am。
I am not proud； I hold my every breath
At Nature's mercy。 I am as a babe
Borne in a giant's arms； he knows not where；
Each several heart…beat； counted like the coin
A miser reckons； is a special gift
As from an unseen hand； if that withhold
Its bounty for a moment； I am left
A clod upon the earth to which I fall。
Something I find in me that well might claim
The love of beings in a sphere above
This doubtful twilight world of right and wrong；
Something that shows me of the self…same clay
That creeps or swims or flies in humblest form。
Had I been asked； before I left my bed
Of shapeless dust； what clothing I would wear；
I would have said； More angel and less worm；
But for their sake who are even such as I；
Of the same mingled blood； I would not choose
To hate that meaner portion of myself
Which makes me brother to the least of men。
I dare not be a coward with my lips
Who dare to question all things in my soul；
Some men may find their wisdom on their knees；
Some prone and grovelling in the dust like slaves；
Let the meek glow…worm glisten in the dew；
I ask to lift my taper to the sky
As they who hold their lamps above their heads；
Trusting the larger currents up aloft；
Rather than crossing eddies round their breast；
Threatening with every puff the flickering blaze。
My life shall be a challenge； not a truce！
This is my homage to the mightier powers；
To ask my boldest question； undismayed
By muttered threats that some hysteric sense
Of wrong or insult will convulse the throne
Where wisdom reigns supreme； and if I err；
They all must err who have to feel their way
As bats that fly at noon； for what are we
But creatures of the night； dragged forth by day；
Who needs must stumble； and with stammering steps
Spell out their paths in syllables of pain ？
Thou wilt not hold in scorn the child who dares
Look up to Thee； the Father；dares to ask
More than Thy wisdom answers。 From Thy hand
The worlds were cast； yet every leaflet claims
》From that same hand its little shining sphere
Of star…lit dew； thine image； the great sun；
Girt with his mantle of tempestuous flame；
Glares in mid…heaven； but to his noontide blaze
The slender violet lifts its lidless eye；
And from his splendor steals its fairest hue；
Its sweetest perfume from his scorching fire。
I may just as well stop here as anywhere； for there is more of the
manuscript to come； and I can only give it in instalments。
The Young Astronomer had told me I might read any portions of his
manuscript I saw fit to certain friends。 I tried this last extract
on the old Master。
It's the same story we all have to tell；said he； when I had done
reading。…We are all asking questions nowadays。 I should like to
hear him read some of his verses himself； and I think some of the
other boarders would like to。 I wonder if he wouldn't do it； if we
asked him！ Poets read their own compositions in a singsong sort of
way； but they do seem to love 'em so； that I always enjoy it。 It
makes me laugh a little inwardly to see how they dandle their
poetical babies； but I don't let them know it。 We must get up a
select party of the boarders to hear him read。 We'll send him a
regular invitation。 I will put my name at the head of it； and you
shall write it。
That was neatly done。 How I hate writing such things！ But I
suppose I must do it。
VIII
The Master and I had been thinking for some time of trying to get the
Young Astronomer round to our side of the table。 There are many
subjects on which both of us like to talk with him； and it would be
convenient to have him nearer to us。 How to manage it was not quite
so clear as it might have been。 The Scarabee wanted to sit with his
back to the light； as it was in his present position。 He used his
eyes so much in studying minute objects； that he wished to spare them
all fatigue； and did not like facing a window。 Neither of us cared
to ask the Man of Letters； so called； to change his place； and of
course we could not think of making such a request of the Young Girl
or the Lady。 So we were at a stand with reference to this project of
ours。
But while we were proposing； Fate or Providence disposed everything
for us。 The Man of Letters； so called； was missing one morning；
having folded his tentthat is； packed his carpet…bagwith the
silence of the Arabs； and encampedthat is； taken lodgingsin some
locality which he had forgotten to indicate。
The Landlady bore this sudden bereavement remarkably well。 Her
remarks and reflections； though borrowing the aid of homely imagery
and doing occasional violence to the nicer usages of speech； were not
without philosophical discrimination。
I like a gentleman that is a gentleman。 But there's a difference
in what folks call gentlemen as there is in what you put on table。
There is cabbages and there is cauliflowers。 There is clams and
there is oysters。 There is mackerel and there is salmon。 And there
is some that knows the difference and some that doos n't。 I had a
little account with that boarder that he forgot to settle before he
went off； so all of a suddin。 I sha'n't say anything about it。 I've
seen the time when I should have felt bad about losing what he owed
me； but it was no great matter； and if he 'll only stay away now he
's gone； I can stand losing it； and not cry my eyes out nor lay awake
all night neither。 I never had ought to have took him。 Where he
come from and where he's gone to is unbeknown to me。 If he'd only
smoked good tobacco； I wouldn't have said a word； but it was such
dreadful stuff； it 'll take a week to get his chamber sweet enough to
show them that asks for rooms。 It doos smell like all possest。
Left any goods？ asked the Salesman。
Or dockermunts？added the Member of the Haouse。
The Landlady answered with a faded smile； which implied that there
was no hope in that direction。 Dr。 Benjamin； with a sudden
recurrence of youthful feeling； made a fan with the fingers of his
right hand； the second phalanx of the thumb resting on the tip of the
nose； and the remaining digits diverging from each other； in the
plane of the median line of the face；I suppose this is the way he
would have described the gesture； which is almost a specialty of the
Parisian gamin。 That Boy immediately copied it； and added greatly to
its effect by extending the fingers of the other hand in a line with
those of the first； and vigorously agitating those of the two hands；
a gesture which acts like a puncture on the distended self…esteem
of one to whom it is addressed； and cheapens the memory of the absent
to a very low figure。
I wish the reader to observe that I treasure up with interest all the
words uttered by the Salesman。 It must have been noticed that he
very rarely speaks。 Perhaps he has an inner life； with its own deep
emotional； and lofty contemplative elements； but as we s