KIDD'S OWN JOURNAL. 



339 



driven to his last resource, tell him it is some 

 other service you require. He will undertake 

 it with warmth, with gratitude — even if it 

 were to fight for you (for I am here only 

 speaking of the best amongst friends). 



I had made this remark — not the only one 

 of its kind — thinking (as moralists are apt to 

 do) that others were thus disposed. I im- 

 agined that I, individually, formed a striking 

 contrast to so hideous a picture. Alas! lam 

 painfully convinced of the contrary. Listen ! 



On returning home (after an afternoon's 

 walk), my little servant suddenly recollecting 

 she had forgotten to deliver a message, came 

 to the end of the garden, out of breath, and 

 lost ten minutes longer in lamentations and 

 excuses for having forgotten it. Some one 

 had brought a letter for me, and appeared 

 disappointed on finding me absent. Not 

 being able to ascertain when I would return 

 home, he earnestly entreated that the letter 

 might be immediately given to me on my 

 return ; and left an address where the answer 

 should be sent. 



I opened the letter. It was a simple affair. 

 A gentleman, whom I knew only by name, 

 but who was intimately connected with one 

 of my chosen friends, told me of a difficulty 

 in which he was placed. He had just received 

 a communication which compelled his imme- 

 diate departure. He had not, at the moment, 

 the means to undertake the journey ; and 

 therefore begged me to lend him the required 

 amount. And now commences a series of 

 base, unworthy actions on my part, of which 

 I am almost sorry to have undertaken the 

 acknowledgment. Yet will I follow the 

 example of Henry IV., who, once feeling a 

 disinclination to enter the battle-field, cried, 

 " Ah, you are frightened, and tremble ! I 

 will give you reason to do so, by hurrying 

 into the thickest of the fight." This he did. 



II Oh, sordid, contemptible avarice! You 

 have once glided into my heart, and you 

 think it shall be a home and a refuge to you. 

 No ! I will throw open the doors and windows, 

 and proclaim aloud you are there ! You will 

 not dare remain in an open house ! " 



I read the letter twice ; and was of opinion 

 that it was very cool in the writer to apply 

 to me, without knowing me. Happily, vanity 

 stepped forward in his defence. He knows 

 enough of me, said I, to believe that those in 

 want of assistance can confidently apply to 

 me. Thereupon 1 bridled up. Then I thought 

 of the chance of rinding myself in a similar 

 position ; and said, let us do for him what I 

 should wish him to do for me, were we to 

 change places. I recalled the words of 

 Trajan, who wished that every citizen should 

 find in him (the emperor) what he would 

 wish to find in them (as citizens). I then 

 thought myself as great, as magnanimous, as 

 the adopted son of Nerva ; and I said to 



myself proudly, That is like ourselves — 

 Trajan and I. Well, I can't do otherwise. 

 I will send the money. But while all this 

 was passing in my mind, the little servant 

 had been turning her pockets inside out, and 

 at last exclaimed, " Dear me, I have lost the 

 address ! " 



"What address?" 



" The address, sir, where the answer was 

 to be sent." 



A dim ray of hope then glided into my 

 heart — a half-ashamed, secret joy, which I 

 showed by feigning ill-humor with the 

 servant. 



" You must be very awkward, and very 

 giddy," said I ; "but it is just what you 

 always are." And I ran over in detail her 

 faults during the last month. 



" Nothing vexes me more," I continued, 

 " than to lose that address. I was particu- 

 larly anxious to answer this letter ; and now, 

 through your negligence, it is impossible." 



In fact, it is (thought I) quite impossible 

 I can send the money, seeing that stupid girl 

 has lost the direction. " It is not my fault," 

 continued I, trying to deceive myself; " Cer- 

 tainly I should have been delighted to have 

 rendered this small service ; but it is impos- 

 sible, without an address." I then recom- 

 menced showing the same degree of ill- 

 humor I might in reality have felt had my 

 servant's inattention deprived me of the 

 liveliest gratification. 



" But, sir," said she, "I am sure it would 

 be very easy to find where the gentleman lives." 



" What ! Without his address ? You 

 have lost your senses ! " 



" But, sir, I know it is at an hotel." 



u Nonsense ! there are forty in the town." 



" But then, I know it is in the neighbor- 

 hood." 



"And there are fifteen hotels in the neigh- 

 borhood ! I can't go inquiring from door 

 to door." 



She was good enough not to say that, on 

 the contrary, there was no reason why 1 

 should not do so ; nor that there were but 

 eight (not fifteen) hotels in the neighborhood. 

 She was even so indulgent as only to offer — 

 to go herself! 



" And when will my dinner be ready ?" 



She might have said, " You sometimes dine 

 two or three hours later, when you take a 

 walk in the country, or wish to water the 

 garden, or to finish a book." But she only 

 observed, " I will go after dinner." 



" After dinner it will be too late," said I, 

 again reading the letter in which the writer 

 expressed his wish to leave that very evening. 

 " Besides, you would never find him." And 

 I repeated to her the catalogue of all the 

 things she had not been able to find since she 

 had been in my service. 



