Man is an embryo; see
at twenty years
His bones, the columns
that uphold his frame
Not yet cemented, shaft
and capital,
Mere fragments of the
temple incomplete.
At twoscore, threescore,
is he then full grown?
Nay, still a child,
and as the little maids
Dress and undress their
puppets, so he tries
To dress a lifeless
creed, as if it lived,
And change its raiment
when the world cries shame!
We smile to see our
little ones at play
So grave, so thoughtful,
with maternal care
Nursing the wisps of
rags they call their babes;
Does He not smile who
sees us with the toys
We call by sacred names,
and idly feign
To be what we have called
them?
He is still The Father
of this helpless nursery-brood,
Whose second childhood
joins so close its first,
That in the crowding,
hurrying years between
We scarce have trained
our senses to their task
Before the gathering
mist has dimmed our eyes,
And with our hollowed
palm we help our ear,
And trace with trembling
hand our wrinkled names,
And then begin to tell
our stories o’er,
And see—not
hear-the whispering lips that say,
“You know—?
Your father knew him.—This is he,
Tottering and leaning
on the hireling’s arm,—”
And so, at length, disrobed
of all that clad
The simple life we share
with weed and worm,
Go to our cradles, naked
as we came.
XI
I suppose there would have been even more remarks upon the growing intimacy of the Young Astronomer and his pupil, if the curiosity of the boarders had not in the mean time been so much excited at the apparently close relation which had sprung up between the Register of Deeds and the Lady. It was really hard to tell what to make of it. The Register appeared at the table in a new coat. Suspicious. The Lady was evidently deeply interested in him, if we could judge by the frequency and the length of their interviews. On at least one occasion he has brought a lawyer with him, which naturally suggested the idea that there were some property arrangements to be attended to, in case, as seems probable against all reasons to the contrary, these two estimable persons, so utterly unfitted, as one would say, to each other, contemplated an alliance. It is no pleasure to me to record an arrangement of this kind. I frankly confess I do not know what to make of it. With her tastes and breeding, it is the last thing that I should have thought of,—her uniting herself with this most commonplace and mechanical person, who cannot even offer her the elegances and luxuries to which she might seem entitled on changing her condition.