The Knickerbocker, or New-York Monthly Magazine, June 1844. Various
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Название: The Knickerbocker, or New-York Monthly Magazine, June 1844
Автор: Various
Издательство: Public Domain
Жанр: Журналы
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THE HOUSEHOLDER
‘For the kingdom of Heaven is like unto a man that is an householder, which went out early in the morning to hire labourers into his vineyard. And when he had agreed with the labourers for a penny a day, he sent them into his vineyard. And he went out about the third hour, and saw others standing in the market-place, and said unto them; Go ye also into the vineyard, and whatsoever is right I will give you; and they went their way. Again he went out about the sixth and ninth hour, and did likewise. And about the eleventh hour he went out and found others standing idle, and saith unto them, Why stand ye here all the day idle? They say unto him, Because no man hath hired us. He saith unto them. Go ye also into the vineyard; and whatsoever is right that shall ye receive.’—St. Matthew: XX, 1-7.
O thou blest Householder! the starry dawn,
The light crepuscular, the roseate morn,
Long since had melted into day!
Long since the glow of Youth’s THIRD hour,
And the bird’s song, and Fancy’s magic power,
Long since have, traceless, pass’d away!
Ent’reth the sun into its zenith height!
Ent’reth the mortal into manhood’s might!
Op’neth again the vineyard Gate
And Labourers are call’d! but Honour’s dream
Entranc’d my soul, and made Religion seem
As nought, Glory was man’s Estate!
The NINTH hour found me in the market place;
Fierce passion ruled my heart, care mark’d my face;
In vain, in vain, Thy blessed call!
To glitter, to achieve, to lose or gain,
Form’d every hope, or thought, delight, or pain:
The world, the world, was still my All!
The TENTH hour sounded in my startled ear!
Thy gracious Spirit touched my heart with fear!
The harvest ended with the day;
That thought imbued my mind—‘not saved? too late?’
I left the throng; I sought the Vineyard Gate;
’Twas shut— Death-struck, I turn’d away!
Low sank the Sun adown the Western Sky!
Each cherish’d hope had prov’d its vanity!
Now neither Earth, nor Heaven was mine.
Rejected, sad, abandon’d, and forlorn;
Of God it seem’d not lov’d; of Hell, the scorn!
No hope, or human or Divine,
Brighten’d my dark, cold, doubting, wretched mind;
The world, a wilderness; Heaven’s self, unkind!
‘Blackness of darkness’ seem’d my way:
Slow struck the ELEVENTH! Thy light around me broke!
And deep, unto my soul, these words were spoke:
‘Why stand ye idle all the day?’
‘Enter and work through the waning hour!’—
Lord of the Vineyard! grant Thy servant power
To labour, love Thee, and obey.
Let every thought, plan, word, deed, wish, be Thine!
Thine be all honour, glory, praise divine,
And let thy pardon close my day!
THE QUOD CORRESPONDENCE.
Harry Harson
CHAPTER XXVIII
On the day but one after Rust’s death, Mr. Kornicker was very busy in his office. His coat was off; his hat was on a chair, and in it was his snuff-box, a black silk neckcloth, and a white handkerchief, not a little discolored by the presence of snuff and the absence of water. In one corner of the room lay a confused heap, consisting of bed, bedding, and various odds and ends of wearing apparel; and from these Mr. Kornicker, after due reflection and calculation as to the order in which to make his choice, selected article after article. First, he spread upon the floor his counterpane, then his blanket, then a sheet not a little akin in appearance to his handkerchief, and then his bed: upon these he piled his apparel, in a confused heap, and proceeded to roll the whole into a large ball, which he secured with a piece of rope. ‘Now then, the moving’s begun,’ said he, opening the door and rolling the bundle into the entry. ‘The premises are ready for the next tenant.’
Having brushed his knees with the palm of his hands, and then dusted his hands by knocking them together, he put on his neckcloth, coat, and hat; pocketed his snuff-box and handkerchief, walked into the entry, locked the door, put the key over it, as he had always been in the habit of doing; seated himself upon his bundle, with his back leaning against the wall; and immediately lapsed into a fit of deep abstraction, which he occasionally relieved by kicking his heels against the floor, shaking his head, in a sudden and emphatic manner, or inhaling his breath rapidly and violently, producing a sound blending the harmonious qualities of a snort and a whistle.
‘So,’ said he, after indulging in one of the last mentioned performances with so much energy as to arouse him from his abstraction, at the same time nodding his head at Rust’s office, ‘his cake being dough, our bargain’s up; and here am I, Edward Kornicker, Esquire, attorney and counsellor at law, a man of profound experience, severe knowledge of the world, of great capacity in various ways, though of small means—I think I may say of d–d small means—once more in the market; for sale to the highest bidder. Such a valuable commodity is not met with every day. If any gentleman,’ continued he, raising his hand and looking round at an imaginary audience, ‘is extremely desirous of securing the eminent talents of one of the most prominent young men of the day—not exactly new,’ added he, running his eye over his rusty coat, ‘but wonderfully serviceable; no cracks, nor flaws, no pieces broken off—here is an opportunity which will not occur again. This is only a scratch on the surface,’ said he, as he thrust his finger into a small hole in his coat-sleeve; ‘the article itself is warranted to be perfectly sound, and of the best quality. How much is bid?—how much for the promising young man aforesaid? How much? One thousand dollars? Five hundred? Two fifty?—one?—fifty? It wont do,’ said he, in a melancholy tone; ‘strike him down to me. The gentleman’s bought himself in; there being no demand for the article in this market, he thinks of disposing of himself to some respectable widow lady with a small family and a large purse. He may alter his mind, but that’s his present intention.’
Here Mr. Kornicker concluded his rather extraordinary soliloquy by plunging his hands in his pockets, and dropping into a subdued whistle; in the course of which his thoughts seemed to have taken altogether a different channel; for it was not long before he said, as if in continuance of some unuttered train of thought:
‘Well, old fellow, I promised you to look after your girl, although you didn’t seem much struck with the offer. But I’ll stick to my promise; although, to tell the truth, I don’t exactly know how to commence. But nothing will be done by sitting on this bundle. So I’ll to my work at once.’
He rose up hastily, and was descending the stairs when he abruptly turned back, went up to his luggage, and after eyeing it for a minute, said:
‘It’s a hazardous business to leave you here. You can’t be distrained on, nor levied on, because you’re СКАЧАТЬ