LIGHT READING
Mr. Editor.
—I am one of that unfortunate class of beings, whom Nature,
in a
sportive mood, has created apparently for her own amusement—a
species
of non descript, differing from the rest of the world; their superior,
considering myself, and by them considered, an object of alternate scorn
and pity. I have no interest in the affairs of
mankind—alone—an
Eremite amid the pressure of thousands. Such a character
can hardly be supposed to have any intimate connection with the regular
time-plodding mechanics of existence, whose only object in life is the
attainment of that wealth, which it is my only object to circulate. I was
alone, while in company gay and reserved; cold, yet familiar. I felt myself
independent of the world, and therefore scorned the opinions which I was
confident would either originate in their selfishness of character, or exude
from the feigned humility of aristocratic pride of wealth. I consoled myself
for the want of riches by my contempt and scorn of its possessors. I
considered the poor man, the animal who conquers the prey, whilst the
purseproud I likened to the kite who pilfers it. With such opinions it is
hardly likely that my associates could be numerous, and it was, therefore,
necessary that I should find some remedy for that lack of society without
which, life is a void, and enjoyment
pain. Possessing
naturally
an amorous constitution, I necessarily turned
to the fair; and, to do justice to
their taste, they seemed
pretty
generally to view me with a favorable eye. Although my comrades would
attribute their kindness to the variety of woman's taste, perpetually
changing, ever fickle and eager in the pursuit of the curious and eccentric.
But this Mr. Editor, I considered sheer envy, resulting from my almost
unparalleled success. I however, my dear sir, did not long remain
untroubled with the contingencies of this species of pleasure. I experienced
various degrees of alloy, extremely galling to one, so irritable and
susceptible as myself. For instance: one lady, who had given me
considerable encouragement, and whom I calculated in a short time to bring
to my own terms, evaporated with a rich, clod-hopping burgher. Mrs.
Pride, timely came to my assistance, and consoled me with the reflection,
that I should congratulate myself on escaping from a connection with one
so mercenary. But alas! Mr. Editor, that pride of soul, was soon to be
humbled! That mind soon trampled upon—those hopes abortive. One
fair
who had seized my heart by surprise, and whom my amorous fancy had
pictured divine, was, after a little perseverance, made acquainted with my
many and superior qualifications, and had consented to smile. The time was
fixed; the rope ladder prepared, and duly attached to her third story
window, and I on its summit; my fancy exulting in the prospect of complete
success. When, oh! most murderous hemp! one twist became undone, the
others followed the neck-breaking example, and I was precipitated like
another Phæton from the acme of enjoyment to the gloom and depth of
Acheron, without even embracing the fair, who in consequence of my
failure and subsequent appearance, refused to ratify her former vows. I had
almost forgotten to state, that but for the polite foresight of her sire, who
no doubt had some inkling of the future, I should not now be scrawling this
epistle; nor recur with trembling to the twists of hemp!
My fall was broken and my neck saved unbroken, by my descent to the
pliable foundation of a sewer recently erected by her father. You shall hear
again from me anon.
OCTAVIAN.
