Lippincott'S Magazine Of Popular Literature And Science, Volume 26 December, 1880. by Various None (smart ebook reader .txt) 📕

Weight In Gold,  Supplementing As They Do,  In a Superfluously Exact And

Curiously Quaint Manner,  This Most Unique Work.

He Starts With This Account Of Himself: "My Name Is Charles John Young,

And I Was Born In amfort,  A Pretty Village In Hampshire,  1833 In July,

That Pleasant Time When The Birds Sing Merrily And Flowers Bloom

Sweetly. My Father And Mother Are The Kindest In The World,  And I Love

Them Dearly And Both Alike. I Shall Give A Description Of Them By And

By. In The Mean Time I Shall Just Say That My Papa Is A Clergyman."

The Earlier Chapters Describe The Various Migrations Of The Family From

One Parish To Another,  And From Them We Have No Difficulty In

Recognizing In "Papa" The Rev. Julian Young,  Who Possessed No Small

Share Of The Talents That Distinguished _His_ Father,  The Celebrated

Tragedian,  Charles Young,  And Which Seem To Have Been Transmitted To Our

Author,  Who,  We Understand,  Has Honorably Served His Country In Her

Majesty'S Army. From His Earliest Years Charlie Seems To Have Been

Strongly Influenced By Religious Feelings. His Creed Was A Bright And

Trustful One,  A Realization Of God'S Presence And Of The Need Of

Speaking To Him As To One Who Could Always Hear And Help. When He Was

About Three Years Old,  We Are Told In The Editor'S Interesting Preface,

He Was Often Heard Offering Up Little Petitions For The Supply Of His

Child-Like Wants. Once,  When,  His Nurse Left Him To Fetch Some More

Milk,  His Father Overheard Him Saying,  "O God,  Please Let There Be

Enough Milk In The Jug For Me To Have Some More,  For Jesus Christ'S

Sake. Amen." Many Quaint Little Religious Reflections And Scriptural

Allusions Are Interspersed Throughout The Book. In One Place He Declares

That "Without Papa And Mamma The Garden Would Be To Me What The

Wilderness Was To John The Baptist;" While Again He Offers Up A Pathetic

Prayer For A Baby-Brother; And Throughout We Are Struck By The Fact That

His Religion Was Pre-Eminently One Of Love. Charlie'S Educational

Advantages Were Of The Noblest And Best,  Home-Training Largely

Predominating. In The Ninth Chapter He Refers In a Simple Matter-Of-Fact

Way To His Early Studies: "Mamma Devotes Her Time In Teaching Me And In

Reading Instructive Books With Me. Papa Tells Me About The Productions

Of The Earth,  Rivers,  Mountains,  Valleys,  Mines,  And,  Most Wonderful Of

All,  The Formation Of The Human Body." Further On We Read: "Nothing Of

Any Great Importance Occurred Now For Some Time. My Life Was Spent

Quietly In The Country,  As The Child Of A Wiltshire Clergyman Ought,

Mamma Devoting Her Time In Teaching Me,  And My Daily Play Going On The

Same,  Till At Last Papa And Mamma Took Me To The Splendid Capital Of

England." However Much This Brilliant Transition May Have Dazzled Him,

He Still Prefers His Quiet Country Home,  Arguing Thus: "As To Living

There [In London],  I Should Not Like It. The Reason Why--Because Its

Noisy Riots In The Streets Suit Not My Mood Like The Tranquil Streams

And The Waving Trees I Love In england'S Country.... 'Tis True--Oh,  How

True!--In The Poetic Words Of Mr. Shakespeare,  'Man Made The Town,  God

Made The Country.'"

Despite The Stilted Style And Absurdly Pompous Descriptions,  With An

Occasional Terrible Breakdown,  Charlie'S Love Of Nature,  And Especially

Of The Animal Creation,  Seems To Have Been Most Genuine. He Speaks Of

"The Wide Ocean Which When Angry Roars And Clashes Over The Beach,  But

When Calm Crabs Are Seen Crawling On The Shore And The Sun Shines Bright

Over The Waves," And Of "The Billows Rolling Over Each Other And Foaming

Over The Rough Stones," With An Apparently Real Enthusiasm. The Softer

Emotions Of His Nature Were Engrossed In This Way,  As We Infer From The

Negative Evidence Afforded By His Autobiography That He Reached His

Seventh Year Without Any Experience Of The Tender Passion.

His Physiological Ideas In The Speculations Regarding The Origin Of A

Baby-Brother Are Naively Expressed: "One Day I Was Told That A Baby Was

Born [This Was When He Was Three Years And A Half Old],  And Upon Going

Into Mamma'S Bedroom I Saw A Red Baby Lying In an Arm-Chair Wrapped In

Swaddling-Clothes. It Puzzled Me Very Much To Think How He Came Into The

World: It Was Mysterious,  Very,  And I Cannot Make It Out Now. My First

Thought Was,  That He Must Have Had Airy Wings,  And After He Had Come

They Had Disappeared. My Second Thought Was That He Was So Very Little

As To Be Able To Come Through The Keyhole,  And Increased Rapidly In

Size,  Just As It Says In The Bible That A Grain Of Mustard-Seed Springs

To Be So Large A Tree That The Fowls Of The Air Can Roost Upon It."

In His Sixth Year Charlie Evinced Poetic Tendencies. We Have In One Of

His Poems A Description Of His Grandpapa,  "A Venerable Old Gentleman

With Dark Eyes,  Gray Hair,  Noble Features,  And Altogether Very Generous

Aspect." Here Is "A Song Appropriate To Him:"

  Oh,  Venerable Is Our Old Ancestor--

        Cloud On His Brow,

        Lightning In His Eyes,

  His Gray Hair Streaming In The Wind.

        To Children Ever Kind,

        To Merit Never Blind,--

  Oh,  Such Is Our Old Ancestor,

  With Hair That Streameth Wild.

At The Head Of This Poem Is A Picture Of The Old Ancestor,  Consisting Of

A Hat,  A Head,  A Walking-Stick,  One Arm And Two Legs,  One Of

Which--Whether The Right Or Left Is Doubtful,  As Their Origin Is

Concealed By The Aforesaid Arm--Is Much Longer Than The Other,  And

Walking In a Contrary Direction. The Most Wonderful Feature Of This

Sketch Is The "Hair Streaming In The Wind," The Distance From The Poll

To The End Of The Flowing Locks Being Longer Than The Longest Leg.

We Cannot Conclude Without An Extract Describing A "Dreadful Accident"

Which Happened To Our Youthful Author; "Perhaps," As He Solemnly Says,

"For A Punishment Of My Sins,  Or To Show Me That Death Stands Ready At

The Door To Snatch My Life Away:" "One Night Papa Had Been Conjuring A

Penny,  And I Thought _I_ Should Like To Conjure; So I Took A Round Brass

Thing With A Verse Out Of The Bible Upon It That I Brought Into Bed With

Me. I Thought It Went Down Papa'S Throat,  So _I_ Put It Down _My_ Throat,

And I Was Pretty Near Choked. I Called My Nurse,  Who Was In The Next

Room. She Fetched Up Papa,  And Then My Nurse Brought The Basin. Papa

Beat My Back,  And I Was Sick. _Lo! There Was The Counter!_ Papa Said,

'Good God!' And My Nurse Fainted,  But Soon Recovered. Don'T You Think

Papa Was Very Clever When He Beat My Back? Papa Then Had A Long Talk

Afterward With Me About It--A Very Serious One."

The Above Pathetic Story Is Accurately Illustrated,  But We Especially

Regret That We Cannot Transfer To These Pages Some Of The Marvellous

Delineations Of The Animals In The Clifton Zoological Garden.

M.S.D.

Wanted--A Real Gainsborough.

I Am An Unmarried Man Of Twenty-Four. After That Confession It Is Hardly

Necessary To Add That I Am In The Habit Of Thinking A Great Deal About A

Person Not Yet Embodied Into Actual Existence--I.E. My Future Wife. I

Have Not Yet Met Her--She Is A Purely Ideal Being--But At The Same Time

I So Often Have A Vivid Conception Of Her Looks,  Her Air,  Her Walk,  Her

Tones Even,  That She Seems To Be Present. My Misery Is That I Cannot

Find Her In Real Life.

No One Need Fancy That I Am An Imaginative Man: Quite The Contrary Is

The Fact. I Am A Lawyer,  And Have An Office In bond Street. Every

Morning At Eight O'Clock I Take The Sixth Avenue Horse-Cars And Ride

Down To Fourteenth Street. I Have A Fancy For Walking The Rest Of The

Way,  And Toward Evening I Saunter Back Homeward Along Broadway And Union

Square.

Prosaic As These Journeys May Seem,  They Are Nevertheless The

Inspiration Of My Hopes,  The Feeders Of My Visions. It Is At Such Times

That I Enjoy My Glimpses Of The Lady I Long To Meet. I Jostle Gentle

Creatures At Every Step: Feminine Shapes And Feminine Tones Are On Every

Side Presented To Eyes And Ears. I Trust Nobody Will Be Prejudiced

Against Me When I Confess That I See The Fair One Of My Dreams In The

Shop-Windows. Once Having Seen Her,  I Become Immeasurably Happy,  And Go

On Dreaming About Her Until We Meet Again. It May Seem A Curious

Admission,  But This Beautiful Although Impalpable Being Is Suggested By

The Charming Dresses,  Hats And Bonnets Displayed On The Milliners'

Blocks. None Of Our Artists Can Paint Portraits Now-A-Days: Art Seems To

Have Withdrawn Her Gifts From Them And Endowed The Dressmakers And

Milliners Instead.

It Was At First Difficult For Me To Decide On The Personality Of My

Beloved. My Earliest Fancy Was For A Blond: At Least The Dress Was Of

Pale Blue Silk With A Profusion Of Lace Trimmings. Her Hat Was Of Straw

Faced With Azure Velvet,  And The Crown Surrounded By A Long Plume,  Also

Of Ciel Blue. I Knew By Heart The Features Of This Fair Young Creature,

Invisible Although She Was To Others. They Seemed To Belong More To A

Flower Than To A Face: Her Eyes Were Large And Blue,  Full Of Appealing

Love; Her Hair Was Of Course Golden; Her Smile Was Angelic; And Her

Whole Expression Was One Of Sweetness And Goodness. She Was My First

Dream: Little Although She Belonged To Actual Life,  She Used To Trip

About By My Side And Sit With Me In My Room At Home. Suddenly,  However,

I Became Enamored Of A Different Creature,  And My Dream Changed. I Began

To Think Of My Lovely Blond Regretfully As Of A Beautiful Creature Too

Good For Earth Who Died Young. It Is The Habit Of The Shopkeepers To

Change The Figures In Their Windows,  And One Morning I Fell In Love With

Quite A Different Creature. She Wore When I First Saw Her A Long Dress

Of Black Silk And Velvet Sparkling With Jet; Over Her Shoulders Was

Thrown Carelessly A Mantle Of Cream-Colored