There was a favorite
honeysuckle which I had seen her often training with assiduity, and had
heard her say it should be the pride of her garden. I found it
grovelling along the ground, tangled and wild, and twining round every
worthless weed, and it struck me as an emblem of myself: a mere
scatterling, running to waste and uselessness. I could work no longer
in the garden.
My father sent me to pay a visit to my uncle, by way of keeping the old
gentleman in mind of me. I was received, as usual, without any
expression of discontent; which we always considered equivalent to a
hearty welcome. Whether he had ever heard of my strolling freak or not
I could not discover; he and his man were both so taciturn. I spent a
day or two roaming about the dreary mansion and neglected park; and
felt at one time, I believe, a touch of poetry, for I was tempted to
drown myself in a fish-pond; I rebuked the evil spirit, however, and it
left me. I found the same red-headed boy running wild about the park,
but I felt in no humor to hunt him at present. On the contrary, I tried
to coax him to me, and to make friends with him, but the young savage
was untameable.
When I returned from my uncle's I remained at home for some time, for
my father was disposed, he said, to make a man of me. He took me out
hunting with him, and I became a great favorite of the red-nosed
squire, because I rode at everything; never refused the boldest leap,
and was always sure to be in at the death.
Pages:
169
170
171
172
173
174
175
176
177
178
179
180
181
182
183
184
185
186
187
188
189
190
191
192
193