BY THE AUTHOR OF "EMILIA WYNDHAM," "TWO OLD MEN'S TALES," &c. &c. "For we, most blest, even when to heaven we turn Of sorrows that are here- Of griefs that dimmed our dearest hours with tears- IN THREE VOLUMES. VOL. II. W. C. BENNETT. LONDON: HURST AND BLACKETT, PUBLISHERS, 13, GREAT MARLBOROUGH STREE 1856. 249. W.235. EVELYN MARSTON. CHAPTER I. 'Tis hard to say, if greater want of skill But of the two, less dang'rous is the offence POPE. I ENDED the last chapter with this sentence: Thus the time passed not altogether unpleasantly away. It is a happy period in most men's lives when. they are preparing themselves to do. It is the season of hope-hope unchastened by experience. A sort of fairy-land of justice and right; where success, of course, proportionably rewards honest endeavour, and where there VOL. II. B is any great natural capacity, does much more. Everything smiles upon the the young determined student. Difficulties vanish before his vigour and courage, for the difficulties he has to contend with are honest ones, arising from the nature of the task itself; absolute and positive in their form, and to be vanquished by the same means with which others have succeeded n overcoming them. It is a race in which the best and most determined runner invariably wins. Whilst we are learners, our way is marked out plainly before us. The ascent may be steep, the path rugged, but every step we take brings us nearer to our end. Every night closes with the cheering reflection of an advance, however small, effected. But different is it when once the gate is opened, and the threshold passed, which separates acquirement from execution. "Gentlemen, I perceive you are not cabbages," began the stammering lecturer-and stopped short. He had long been preparing himself to address the public by haranguing the vegetables in his garden, and something of the same sort takes place when the student passes into the producer-be it in art, one of the professions, statesmanship, or life. The moment of trial comes when we cease to follow, and step forth to do as best we can, alone. Lascià ogni speranza voi ch'entrate, perhaps must not be said; but Othello's pathetic farewell to his peaceful, thoughtless, unanxious nights and days is but too applicable. Happiness-the bright, unclouded happiness of the young sanguine spirit, is henceforth at an end. And trouble, and care, and a hard contest not with things merely, but with men-lies before him; and "Oh the misery which man hath made for man!". And most of all, perhaps, for the follower of art. For it is not with realities alone, but with all |
