I was always an early riser. Happy the man who is! Every morning,
day comes to him with a virgin's love, full of bloom, and purity,
and freshness. The youth of nature is contagious, like the gladness
of a happy child. I doubt if any man can be called 'old' so long as
he is an early riser, and an early _walker_. And oh, youth!--take
my word of it,--youth in dressing-gown and slippers, dawdling over
breakfast at noon, is a very decrepid ghastly image of that youth
which sees the sun blush over the mountains, and the dews sparkle
upon blossoming hedgerows.
Passing by my father's study, I was surprised to see the windows
unclosed--surprised more, on looking in, to see him bending over
his books--for I had never before known him study till after the
morning meal. Students are not usually early risers, for students,
alas! whatever their age, are rarely young. Yes; the great work must
be getting on in serious earnest. It was no longer dalliance with
learning: this was work.
I passed through the gates into the road. A few of the cottages were
giving signs of returning life; but it was not yet the hour for
labour, and no "Good morning, sir," greeted me on the road. Suddenly
at a turn, which an overhanging beech-tree had before concealed, I
came full upon my Uncle Roland.
"What! you, sir? So early? Hark, the clock is striking five!"
"Not later! I have walked well for a lame man. It must be more than
four miles to ---- and back."
"You have been to ----: not on business? No soul would be up."
"Yes, at inns there is always some one up. Ostlers never sleep! I
have been to order my humble chaise and pair. I leave you to day,
nephew."
"Ah, uncle, we have offended you. It was my folly--that cursed
print--"
"Pooh!" said my uncle, quickly. "Offended me, boy! I defy you!" and
he pressed my hand roughly.
"Yet this sudden determination! It was but yesterday, at the Roman
Camp, that you planned an excursion with my father to C---- Castle."
"Never depend upon a whimsical man. I must be in London to-night."
"And return to morrow?"
"I know not when," said my uncle, gloomily; and he was silent
for some moments. At length, leaning less lightly on my arm, he
continued--"Young man, you have pleased me. I love that open saucy
brow of yours, on which nature has written 'Trust me.' I love those
clear eyes that look man manfully in the face. I must know more of
you--much of you. You must come and see me some day or other in your
ancestor's ruined keep."
"Come! that I will. And you shall show me the old tower--"
"And the traces of the out-works;" cried my uncle, flourishing his
stick.
"And the pedigree--"
"Ay, and your great-great-grandfather's armour, which he wore at
Marston Moor--"
"Yes, and the brass plate in the church, uncle."
"The deuce is in the boy! Come here--come here; I've three minds to
break your head, sir!"
"It is a pity somebody had not broken the rascally printer's, before
he had the impudence to disgrace us by having a family, uncle."
Captain Roland tried hard to frown, but he could not. "Pshaw!" said
he, stopping, and taking snuff. "The world of the dead is wide; why
should the ghosts jostle us?"
"We can never escape the ghosts, uncle. They haunt us always. We
cannot think or act, but the soul of some man, who has lived before,
points the way. The dead never die, especially since--"
"Since what, boy? you speak well."
"Since our great ancestor introduced printing," said I, majestically.
My uncle whistled "_Malbrook s'en va-t-en guerre_."
I had not the heart to plague him further.
"Peace!" said I, creeping cautiously within the circle of the stick.
"No! I forewarn you--"
"Peace! and describe to me my little cousin, your pretty
daughter--for pretty I am sure she is."
"Peace," said my uncle, smiling. "But you must come and judge for
yourself."