"GOOD-BYE!"
So, upon the verge of sorrow
Stood we blindly hand in hand,
Whispering of a happy morrow
In the undiscovered land!
The world is not half so bad a place as some discontented people make
out.
Our fellow-mortals are not _always_ striving after their own interests,
to the neglect of their duty towards their neighbour:--the mass of
humanity not entirely selfish at heart--no, nor yet the larger portion
of it, by a good way!
Of course, there are some ill-natured people. Blisters, are these;
moral cataplasms imposed on us, probably, to produce that very feeling
we admire, acting as they do by contrast--one of the most vivifying
principles of mental action.
But, when we come to calculate their percentage, how very few they are
in comparison with the better-disposed numbers of God's creatures that
live and breathe, and sicken and die in our midst, and whose kindly
ministrations on behalf of their suffering brethren and sisters around
them, remain generally unknown, until they are far beyond any praise
that the world can give.
Yes, humanity is not so debased, but that its good points still excel
its bad! Just as you see but one real miser in a fixed proportion of
men; so, are there, I believe, quite as small a representative set of
absolutely heartless persons. I am certain that the "good Samaritans"
outvie the "Levites" in our daily existence--opposed, though my theory
may be, to the ruling of the old doggerel, which cautions us that--
"'Tis a very good world to live in,
To spend and to lend, and to give in;
But,
To beg, or to borrow, and to get a man's own,
'Tis the very worst world that ever was known!"
Look at my present case, for instance. Of course, personal instances
are, as a general rule, wrong; but, one cannot very well argue without
them--especially when telling a story, and when they come up so
opportunely in front of one's nose, so to speak.
No sooner was it generally known in Saint Canon's that I was going away,
than I met with offers of sympathy and assistance from many that I did
not expect. I did not require their aid, yet, the proffer of it could
not help being grateful to one's feelings, all the same.
There was Horner now. You know that I was always in the habit of
"chaffing" him, taking a malicious pleasure in so doing, from the reason
that he could not "chaff" me back again in return. Well, you wouldn't
have supposed that he bore me any great love or friendship, or felt
kindly disposed towards me? But, he did!
About a week after I left the Obstructor General's Office, he came to
me--I assure you, much to my astonishment--offering me his assistance.
"Bai-ey _Je-ove_! Lorton," said he, "sawy to he-ah you have left us,
you know--ah. Thawght you might be in a hole, you know--ah? And, Bai-
ey Je-ove! I say, old fellah,"--he added, almost dropping his drawl in
his earnestness,--"if I can help you in any way at all--ah, I should
weally be vewy glad--ah!"
The "us," whom I had "left--ah," referred, of course, to officialdom;
but, it was kind, wasn't it?
There was old Shuffler, too.
"You ain't a goin' to Amerikey, sir, is you?" he asked me just before my
departure, meeting me in the street.
"Yes, I am, Shuffler," I replied, "and pretty soon, too!"
"Lor! Mister Lorton; but I'm right loth to 'ear it! I've got a brother
myself over in Amerikey; s'pose now, sir, I was to give you a letter to
'im? It might, you know, some'ow or hother, be o' service, hay?"
"America is a large place, Shuffler," I answered.--"Whereabouts is he
over there, eh?"
"Well, sir," said he, "I don't 'zackly knows were 'e his; but I dessay
you'll come across him, sir. I'll give you the letter, at hany rate;"--
and he did too, although I combated his resolution. I need hardly add
that I never met the said "brother in Amerikey" of his; so, that it was
of no use to me, as I told him--although, it was a considerate action on
Shuffler's part!
Lady Dasher, also, did not forget me.
Believing that the last of the Mohicans still lived, and that the
continent of the setting sun resembled Hounslow Heath in the old
highwaymen's days, she presented to me--a blunderbuss!
It was one with which her "poor dear papa" had been in the habit of
frightening obstreperous White Boys, who might assail the sacred
premises of Ballybrogue Castle--the ancestral seat of the Earls of
Planetree in sportive Tipperary, as I believe I've told you before. The
weapon, she informed me, was a most efficient one, having once been
known--when missing the advocate of "young Ireland" it was aimed at--to
demolish a whole litter of those little gentlemen with curly tails who
assist, in conjunction with the "praties," in "paying the rint" of the
trusting natives of the Emerald Isle; consequently, its destructive
powers were beyond question, and it might really, she thought, be of the
utmost utility to me on the western prairies, where, she believed, I was
going to "camp out" for ever!
My lady gave me, in addition, a piece of advice, which she implored me
always to bear in mind throughout my life--as she had invariably done--
and that was, that, "Though I might unfortunately be poor, never to
forget being proud":--it was the pass-word to her morbid system.
And the vicar, and dear little Miss Pimpernell, and Monsieur Parole
d'Honneur--how can I speak of all their kindness--evinced in many, many
ways--ere I left the old parish and its whilom associations behind me?
Little Miss Pimpernell worked a supply of knitted socks, "comforters,"
and muffetees, sufficient to last me for a three years' cruise in the
Polar circle in search of the north-west passage. The vicar gave me
letters of introduction to some American friends of his, who received me
afterwards most kindly in virtue of his credentials--he wanted to do
much more for me, but I would not allow him; and as for Monsieur, he
_would_ not be denied, in spite of my telling him, over and over again,
that I had no need of temporal assistance.
"Ah! but yes!" he said to me, in a parting visit he paid me the night
before I started. "You cannote deceives me, my youngish friends!
Lamartine was un republicain, he?--Bien, he go un voyage en Orient; you,
my dears Meestaire Lorton, are going to walk on a voyage en Ouest--dat
is vraisemble. Ha! ha! Ze one visite the Arabes of ze old world, ze
oders ze Arabes of ze nouvelle; and,--bote requires ze money, ze
l'argent, ze cash. Ha! ha! Non, my youngish friends, you cannote
deceives me!"
"But, I assure you, Monsieur Parole," I replied. "I really have
plenty--much more, indeed, than I absolutely require."
"Ah! but yes! My dears, you _moost_ take him to obliges me. I have
gote here a leetle somme I doos note want. If you takes him note, I
peetch him avays--peetch him avays, vraiment!"
And he handed me a little roll of banknotes, which I subsequently found
to contain a hundred pounds.
It was, as I say, of no use my trying to get him to take them back; he
would have no denial:--he absolutely got offended with me when I
persisted in my refusal.
"Non!" he said. "When you come back a reech mans, you can pays me back;
but, note till den! Non, Monsieur Lorton! I believes you considers me
a friend. You offend me if you refuse! Take hims for ze memory de
notre amitie!"
What could I do? I had to take the money after that.
The only _great_ thing that grieved me at parting was the thought that I
could not see Min, to have one parting word; but, even that favour was
afforded me:--God was very good to me!
I had gone to the vicarage to say a last good-bye to the dear friends
there. I was ushered into Miss Pimpernell's parlour; but _she_ was not
there. Somebody else was, though; for, who should get up from the dear
old lady's seat in the fireside corner--where she always sat, winter and
summer alike--but, my darling!
The surprise was almost too much for me, it was so unexpected. I
thought it was her ghost at first.
"Min!" I exclaimed.
"Oh, Frank!"--she said, coming forwards eagerly--"and could you have the
heart to go away without my seeing you again?"