CHAPTER VII. Ir is an odd sort of feeling a man has when he is leaving home-the certain shelter and the certain subsistence-for the first time, to seek for both among strangers! I had made up my mind, and I left the house and the neighbourhood resolutely enough. But I had not proceeded more than a couple of miles on my journey, when all at once I stopped! A something came over me! a fear of I know not what; and I had the strongest inclination to return; however, a minute's reflection showed me my folly, and, ashamed of my temporary cowardice, I faced about, and manfully resumed my onward course. I reflected that my going was voluntary, that I was not compelled to. leave my home from poverty, and that I might return whenever I pleased, if I was disappointed in my expectations. I had told my friends and neighbours that I was only going for awhile; and, at any time, I might keep my word without seeming inconsistent. Then, I was young, healthy, and hoping, had an honest heart, a clear conscience, some money in my pocket, and a good oak stick in my hand-and what had I to fear? So I reasoned, and away I sped with renewed vigour. But where was I to go?-Ay, there was the rub. "Some natural tears I dropt, but dried them soon, I This thought, but not the poetry, was in my head, and I at once determined to proceed to the man of God for counsel and direction. remembered all his former kindness at a time I little deserved it from him. I recollected too that he was my dear mother's friend; and to the Rev. Mr. Clifford, the Protestant clergyI went. man, Fancy me now about to set out on my travels: a tall, straight, stout slip of nineteen, or a few months over, well looking and well made, dressed in a good serviceable black coat and waistcoat, gray trousers, and beaver hat; in one hand the Irishman's sword his oak Trusty; and in the other, a small bundle, containing a couple of shirts, two pairs of stockings, and three books. In my waistcoat pocket I carry my watch, for greater safety; and in a side-pocket of my coat, a red morocco pocket-book (the gift of Mr. St. George), containing five pounds in bank notes, that gentleman's letters of" recommendation," a "character" from Father Dillon, and a paper, in which was wrapped a ringlet of poor Gracey's hair, and a lock of dear old Honor's venerable gray. Besides which mementos, I carried round my neck, and inside my shirt, a small, curiouslywrought gold ornament, shaped like a heart, suspended from a black ribbon, and which I had taken from my sister's neck after her death. It contained a lock of very, very dark hair, and a little bit of some sponge-like substance, highly scented. At first, I was at a loss to know whether the hair had belonged to Dillon or Lindon, both being equally black, but the gold ornament convinced me it was Lindon, and though I hated him, for her sake I would not remove it. What pains he had been at to win that poor young creature! About twelve o'clock, noon, I reached the abode of the clergyman, and was most kindly received. He was much surprised to learn that I was leaving home, and greatly shocked when he understood the cause. He had heard of my sister's death, but not the previous circumstance; and when I candidly told him of it, like dear Mr. St. George, he kindly took my hand, and feelingly expressed his sorrow. "The poor young creature!" exclaimed Mr. Clifford, "she could not have been much more than sixteen? I remember your mother's marriage, and I know you are the elder. But was she not engaged? I think Mr. Dillon told me that his nephew was to have married her?" I told his reverence "that she was very near being married when that business occurred which had ruined us all." "And whom?" he inquired hesitatingly, and looking apprehensive, "not Mr. St. George, I hope ? " "Oh, no, sir!" I answered with warmth; "he would be incapable of anything dishonourable; he would not wound the feelings of the meanest of God's creatures.". 66 I thought so I thought so!" cried the clergyman, his countenance clearing up, thought he would be incapable. Well, well, we must leave the guilty to Him who has said, vengeance is Mine.' Doubt not He will punish in His own good time. But what are your prospects now?" "Please your reverence," said I, "I have no trade, and I think it rather late in life to learn one. I never liked farming, and now that I have lost my sister, I am more disgusted with it than ever. I could not live at home without being miserable; and as I have no other means of support, I must become a servant, if I can get any one to take me." The worthy clergyman observed that he was not surprised at my present sorrow; but he feared I did not seek for peace and resignation at the only true source; and that as long as I sought for happiness by men, and amongst men, without seeking it from the Giver of every good gift, I should be disappointed. He next |