Fortune surely shifted me from my birth, or first looked on me in a mood
as splenetic as that of nature, when she produced that most sombre and
unpleasing of trees, the olive; to pursue the simile; I may have
conduced to the comfort of others, nay, even to their convenience and
luxury, but it never availed aught to my own appearance or
circumstances; I went on, like that unhappy-looking tree, decaying in
the trunk and blighting in the branches, and yielding up the produce of
a liberal education and an active nature to the public, but reaping for
my own portion only misfortune and disappointment; I had sprung up in
the wilderness of the world, and I was left to grow or wither as I
might; every one was ready to profit by me when a fruitful season
rendered me available to them, but none cared to toil to give me space
for growth, or to enrich the perishing earth at my unlucky root!
I was educated for the church, but my father died while I was at
college, and I lost the curacy, which was in the gift of my uncle,
through the pretty face of a city merchant's daughter, who wrote a
sonnet to my worthy relative on his recovery from a fit of the gout, and
obtained the curacy for her brother in exchange for her effusion. What
was to be done? I offered myself as tutor to a young gentleman who was
to study the classics until he was of age, and then to turn fox-hunter
to supply the place of his deceased father; but I was considered by his
relations to be too good-looking to be domesticated in the house of a
rich widow under fifty, and I had the satisfaction of seeing the vacant
seat in the family coach filled by an old, sandy-haired M.A., with bow
legs and a squint--handsome or ugly, it availed not; a face had twice
ruined my prospects; I was at my wit's end! I could not turn fine
gentleman, for I had not brass enough to make my veracity a pander to my
voracity; I could not turn tradesman, for I had not gold enough even to
purchase a yard measure, or to lay in a stock of tapes. My heart bounded
at the idea of the army; but I thought of it like a novice--of wounds
and gallant deeds; of fame and laurels; I was obliged to look closer--my
relations were neither noblemen nor bankers, and I found that even the
Colonial corps were becoming aristocratical and profuse; the navy--I
walked from London to Chatham on speculation; saw the second son of an
earl covered with tar, out at elbows and at heels, and I returned to
town, fully satisfied that here I certainly had no chance. I offered
myself as clerk to a wealthy brewer, and, at length, I was accepted--
this was an opening! I registered malt, hops, ale, and small-beer, till
I began to feel as though the world was one vast brewhouse; and
calculated, added, and subtracted pounds, shillings, and pence, until
all other lore appeared "stale, flat, and unprofitable." I was in this
counting-house four years, and was, finally, discharged by my prudent
principal as an unthrifty servant, for having, during a day of unusual
business, cut up two entire quills, and overturned the inkstand on a new
ledger! Again "the world was all before me where to choose"--but enough
of this; suffice it that my choice availed me nothing, and after years
of struggling and striving, I found myself, as free as air, in a small
market town in England, with five shillings in my pocket, and sundry
grey hairs on my head. From mere dearth of occupation, I took my station
at the window of a small stationer's shop, and commenced a survey of the
volumes and pamphlets which were attractively opened at the title-pages
to display their highly coloured frontispieces. The first which I
noticed was, "The Young Gentleman's Multiplication Table, or Two and Two
make Four"--I sighed as I remembered how little this promising study had
availed _me_! Then came "Little Tom Tucker, he sang for his Supper"--I
would have danced for one. "Young's Night Thoughts," with a well dressed
gentleman in mourning, looking at the moon. "How to Grow Rich, or a
Penny Saved is a Penny Got;" I would have bought the book, and learned
the secret, though I had but five shillings left in the world, had not
the second part of the title intimated to me that I ought to keep my
money. "The Castle of St. Altobrand," where a gentleman in pea-green
might be seen communing with a lady in sky-blue. "Raising the Wind"--I
turned away with a shudder; I had played a part in this drama for years,
and I well knew it was no farce. "The Polite Letter-Writer, or"--I did
not stop to read more; an idea flashed through my mind, and in two
minutes more I was beside the counter of the stationer; we soon became
acquainted; I left two and sixpence in his shop, and quitted it with
renewed hope; the promise of a recommendation, two quires of letter
paper, twelve good quills, and some ink in a small phial. I rejoiced at
having made a friend, even of the stationer, for my pride and my
property had long been travelling companions, and were seldom at home.
On the following day, a placard was pasted to a window on the ground
floor of a neat house, in the best street, announcing that "within,
letters were written on all subjects, for all persons, with precision
and secrecy;" I shall never forget the tremor with which I awaited the
arrival of a customer! I had sunk half of my slender capital, and
encumbered myself with a lodging; I did not dare to think, so I sat down
and began, resolutely, to sharpen my penknife on the sole of my
fearfully dilapidated shoe; then, I spread my paper before me; divided
the quires; looked carefully through a sheet of it at the light; laid it
down again; began to grow melancholy; shook off reflection as I would
have done a serpent, and again betook myself most zealously to the
sharpening of my penknife. A single, well articulated stroke on the door
of my apartment, roused me at once to action, and I shouted, "come in,"
with nervous eagerness; it opened, and gave egress to a staid matron, of
high stature, and sharp countenance; I would have pledged my existence
on her shrewishness from the first moment I beheld her. When I had
placed a chair for her, and reseated myself, this prelude to my
prosperity commenced business at once.
"You're a letter-writer, Mr. What-d'ye-call-'em."