University of Virginia Library

52. CHAPTER LII.
PARTING WORDS.

1. To the inquiry, “What business has Clover in these
pages?” The same that what he represents has in the
world at large.

There is a Something both principle and practice, organized,
constitutional, customary, bepraised, canonized, consecrated
in the Prayer Book, and in many pulpits, — in the
public relations of the human kind, precisely like Clover in
the urban and domestic connections of this Tale. Clover
acts from the same impulse that that acts. That Something
is a gigantic, international Clover. Clover is the same
epitomized. It was agreeable to the original cast, as well
as ulterior purpose, of this volume, that that Something, historically
so conspicuous, should take a biographical form.
Let it be incarnated, and in personal unity inhabit a town,
and reside in our houses, and see how it looks!

2. To those authors from whom, in the composition of
this Tale, we have borrowed, we return sincere thanks. If
our publishers, who are obliging gentlemen, consent, we
would like to forward a copy of the book to each of them.
If they dislike anything of theirs in this connection, they
will of course withdraw it; — should they chance to like
anything of ours, they have full permission to use it. This
would seem to be fair.

Pope Gregory VII. burned the works of Varro, from whom
Augustine had largely drawn, that the Saint might not be
accused of plagiarism. We have no such extreme intention.

First, it would be an endless task. What consternation in
the literary world, should even the humblest author undertake
such a thing! And such authors are the ones who
would be most inclined to cancel their obligations in this
way. We might fire the Cambridge library; but, alas! the
assistant librarian, whose pleasant face has beguiled for us
so much weary research in those alcoves, and, as it were,
illuminated the black letter of so many recondite volumes,
— to see him shedding tears over their ashes, would undo
us! We are weak there. Secondly, it comports at once
with manliness and humility to confess one's indebtedness.
Thirdly, as a matter of expediency, it is better to avail one's
self of a favorable wind and general convoy to fame, than
run the risk of being becalmed, and perhaps devoured, on
some private and unknown route. But, lastly, and chiefly,
let it be recorded, there is a social feeling among authors,
— they cherish convivial sentiments, — they are never
envious of a fellow; there is not, probably, a great author
living, but that, like a certain great king, would gladly
throw a chicken, or a chicken's wing, from his feathered
abundance, to any poor author, and enjoy its effect in lighting
up the countenances of the poor author's wife and children.
Wherefore it is that plagiarism, after all, is to be
considered rather in the light of good cheer and kindly
intercourse, than as evidence of meanness of disposition, or
paucity of ideas.

3. To the tourist, who, with guide-book in hand, and
curious pains-taking, seeks to recover scenes and places
fleetingly commemorated in these pages, we are obliged to
say, he will be disappointed. This Tale, in the language
of art, is a composition, not a sketch. There is no such
city as Woodylin; or, more truly, we might affirm, the
materials of it exist throughout the country. Its population

and its pursuits are confined to no single locality, but are
scattered everywhere. Its elements of good, hope, progress,
may be developed everywhere; — would, too, that whatever
it contains prejudicial to human weal might be depressed in
all regions of the earth!

4. To the book itself.

Go into farm-houses and rustic work-shops; call at the
homes of the opulent and the powerful; visit schools; say
to the minister you have a word for the Church. I know
you will love the family; — you may stay in the kitchen,
and, as you are so neatly dressed, and behave so prettily,
they will let you sit in the parlor. Let the hard hand of
the laboring classes hold you, nor need you shrink from the
soft hand of fair maiden. Speak pleasantly to the little
children; — I need not fear on that score; — speak wisely
and respectfully to parents. You may enter the haunts of
iniquity, and preach repentance there; you may show your

cheerful face in sordid abodes, and inspire a love for purity
and blessedness. Go West, — go South; you need not fear
to utter a true word anywhere. Especially — and these
are your private instructions — speak to our Young Men,
and tell them not to be so anxious to exchange the sure
results of labor for the shifting promise of calculation, — tell
them that the hoe is better than the yard-stick. Instruct
them that the farmer's frock and the mechanic's apron are
as honorable as the merchant's clerk's paletot or the student's
cap. Show them how to rise in their calling, not out of it;
and that intelligence, industry and virtue, are the only
decent way to honor and emolument. Help them to bear
sorrow, disappointment, and trial, which are wont to be the
lot of humanity. And, more especially, demonstrate to
them, and to all, how they may Be Good and Do Good!

If it is thought worth while to take you to Tartary, be
not afraid to go. Look up bright and strong. When those
people come to understand your language, I think they will
like you very much.

Should inquiries arise touching your parentage and connections,
— a natural and laudable curiosity, which, as a
stranger in the world, you will be expected to enlighten, —
you may say that you are one of three, believed to be a
worthy family, comprising two brothers and one sister.
That a few years since, your author published the history
of a young woman, entitled “Margaret: a Tale of the Real
and the Ideal;” — and that at the same time, and as a sort
of counterpart and sequel to this, he embraced the design of
writing the history of a young man, and you are the result.
The first shows what, in given circumstances, a woman can
do; the last indicates what may be expected of a man; — the
first is more antique; the last, modern. Both are local in
action, but diffusive in spirit. In the mean time, he has

written “Philo, an Evangeliad:” cosmopolitan, œcumenical,
sempiternal, in its scope, embodying ideas rather than
facts, and uniting times and places; and cast in the only
form in which such subjects could be disposed of, the allegoric
and symbolical, — or, as it is sometimes termed, the
poetic. The two first are individual workers; the last is a
representative life. “Philo” is as an angel of the everlasting
Gospel; you and “Margaret,” one in the shop, and the
other on the farm, are practical Christians. However different
your sphere or your manners, you may say you all
originate on the part of your author in a single desire to
glorify God and bless his fellow-men. “Philo” has been
called prosy; “Margaret” was accounted tedious. You,
“Richard,” I know, will appear as well as you can, and be
what you are, — honest certainly, pleasing if possible.

God bless thee, Little Book, and anoint thee for thy work,
and make thee a savor of good to many! We shall meet
again, in other years or worlds. May we meet for good,
and not for evil! If there is any evil in thy heart or thy
ways, God purge it from thee!