Memoirs of Arthur Hamilton, B. A. Of Trinity College, Cambridge

ons in pure air and with rational hours. He complained of feeling liable to faintness after standing about in hot rooms. It did not cause him, how

h he could not get rid of; and he was altogether so unlike his usual self, and so prostrate, that at l

Wimpole Street. As he was far from well on the morni

ways one character in a book, not always the hero or heroine, through whose eyes the writer seemed to look, whose mental analysis seemed to have the ring not of description, but confession, and this wou

nto one of those rooms with a professional and suspicious calm about it. "'Five minutes bef

morously on the selection of literature, till a

r had been describing his ideal to me-"tall and pale; stoops slightly, but very distinguished

nd eyes that never seemed to be looking at you. He was neat, almost dapp

; suddenly caught up his left hand and pushed aside the first finger; "Ah, cigarette-s

ur, "but I fear it is

this date," s

room a moment," he said p

during which time I speculated, and read a little book about Epping Forest,

eaked, and Arthur came ou

at Mr. Hamilton is particular in following my

of a patient," said Arthur, smiling. "But I

?" I said, as soon as w

h I know I shan't attend to. But we have wasted much too much time medically already this m

I went to see him, and

man being. Do you remember our conversation about adopting children, and

at he had been surprised to find waiting for him, when he had returned home at a late hour a few nights before his visit to Dr. Hall, a tall foreign gentleman, who had introduced himself

tion will be asked or conditions made; the boy will be sent to London or to any other address you may appoint; that ￡400 a year, quarterly, will be placed to y

ard, any time within the next week, I shall be grateful. My instructions ar

hort time, in which he appeared to be considering something, he begged me to sit down again, and consider whether I would listen to a short statement of fa

to me the other day, because I thought it better to tell no one; but the events of t

rous heart disease. He could not answer for anything, he said. I had seen that

across me for an instant that Arthur was joking, and together with it came a curiously dismal sense of unreality, that is well known to all those who have passed throu

d anything of this at the time:

some painful thought since.... He gave me a few simple directions: I was to avoid bracing climates, hard physical work, or, indeed, mental effort-anything exhausting; to keep reg

life to lead. And the fact that I had already accepted the charge of this boy has finally decided me; it was too late to draw back. I shall settle in some quiet place, and try and educate him for the University.

boy would arrive in the course of a month, so he determine

gents, and the result was that w

arm indolent climate seemed to answer our requi

lately converted into farm-land, and ploughed up. About half a mile from this, going by strangely winding deep lanes, you reach the bottom of a wooded dell, very lonely and quiet, with a stream running at the bottom, that spreads out into marshes and rush-beds, with here and

is a short drive, which brings you to a square mottled front of bro

been used latterly merely as a farmhouse; but a local solicitor, desiring that a somewhat more profitable arrangement might be

divided into large sloping fields. At the end, the water of a tidal creek-Tressillian water-caught the eye. The only sounds that ever penetrated to the car were the cries of birds, or the sound of sheep-bells, or the l

the streets. Old-world farmers, with their strange nasal dialect, used to haunt the streets on market day, like the day on which we first drove through it on our way to Tredennis. Arthur was well and serene. He took the keenest delight in the fragra

ousekeeper and her handmaiden, who were to be his servants, were already installed, and had arranged in a certain fashion the new furniture that Arthur had sent down, jostling with the old, and his books. As we sat, the first evening, with our cigarettes, in the dusk, watc

out any commission that might have been neglected, a

lowing letter from Arthur. The s

has on me till I get habituated to it. There is a constant sense of

future and the present, and remorseful about the past. You don't mind my speaking freely

ve not been few-as painful steps in an education which was to fit me for something. I was having, I hoped, experience which was to enable me to

s if I was like other people. I have met several people better and on a higher level than m

ys seemed to me that there is strife and διψυχ?α-one great factor pulling one way and one another; but it has never been so with me-there has never been a serious strain. I have always known what I meant, and have generally done it; and little

thheld me. Even in a dilemma of any kind, it never has said, 'Do this;' it is always, 'Avoid that.' So that

e law to others, and helping them to some such position. I have always felt that I had a

it came upon me that this was what was meant-that I was not to devote myself to mean, selfish objects; that I was not even to be solaced by individual love: but that I was t

alth, or happiness of the ordinary kinds; and that I might test my capacities a little more and learn myself, and also familiarize myse

the society in which most naturally I moved; and I came to London, as you know. And then I began to write; but I failed there. I was not disheartened, for I felt that I was being led, and tha

d through that before, and I can truly say I do not dread that now. It is rather with an intense and reverent curiosity that I look forward to death, as the messenger that will tell me that my work here is over, and I am to learn God's ways elsew

arn, they look upon me as a man who has failed even to live life upon their basis, classing me with those utter failures who fail i

ck upon myself, upon a feeble life, necessarily self-centered, to nurse and coddle myself as though I was a poor failing dotard, with one av

me-no, that is impossible; but because I am weak and miserable. I must

nto the grasp of a power which is waging an equal war with truth and light and goodness? Shall I be sacrificed to the struggle, without having made the w

. My dear Chris, come and see me again as soon as you can. You will be even more welcome

affection

ur Ha

id eyes that I must go and take her out. We have not walked as far as the creek yet

me, and immediately afterward a tall gentleman appeared, with a

retired, the boy saying good-bye to him affectionately. He left

y could only be the inheritance of many generations of love and hate and quick emotions; his eyelids drooped languidly, but when he opened his eyes and looked full at you!-I felt relieved to think I should not

health and physical condition. He did not speak English very well, but acquired it fast. He always spoke slowly

is. The boy was interested and excited, and ask

ouring the crowd with hungry eyes. I could not explain to him. He thought it was because of his foreign look, and was

impressed upon him the dignity of the position. It was, I was told afterwa

k of his father and brother, and wonder what they would be doing. I had the greatest difficul

I feel like the evening-Martin can

ll my life," he said. "I want to live among people now, in cities, and hear what they say and do what they do

dark gates of Tredennis, a

meet us. "Where i

hand, retaining it for a moment, and then let him go. The boy kept close to him, examin

you so pal

es what makes our face so white; but you will be white like this soon

ike that," said the boy, "if

about the house, soon discovering h

e said. "I had almost forgotten it. But it is too dark to read it here; I shall fetch you a light." And h

le the great moths and transparent deli

d will touch your hand. It has come about as I ant

the house are often dark, though the hills are full of light; yet the Master's messen

keep his mind upon the Red Wine of Life, the Blood of the Earth, as he would fain do, for thinking of the cup, and how tremblingly he ho

e with you; and you too are nearer, far nearer, though you know it not. And even in this little l

silent again, but the gear murmurs on in the dar

ur frien

B

HER

summ

s documen

ous too, as literally true." And he

y, "put back that lamp, and

tly, delighting in little acts

s in this letter that you are to be my son for

er's shoulder where he sat, and, in the pretty demonstrative manner so

the boy's neck, and str

e as well as you did just now; and we will make an

s the thickets, and we heard the cry of the seabirds from the creek; and the soft wind came gently up, rustlin