Felt as all external things, Robed in moonlight, smote thine eye; Then thy spirit’s waiting wings Quivered, trembled, spread to fly; Then th’ aspirer wildly swelling Looked, where mid transcendency Star to star was mutely telling Heaven’s resolve and fate’s decree. Oh! it longed for holier fire Than this spark in earthly shrine; Oh! it soared, and higher, higher, Sought to reach a home divine. Hopeless quest! soon weak and weary Flagged the pinion, drooped the plume, And again in sadness dreary Came the baffled wanderer home. And again it turned for soothing To th’ unfinished, broken dream; While, the ruffled current smoothing, Thought rolled on her startled stream. I have felt this cherished feeling, Sweet and known to none but me; Still I felt it nightly healing Each dark day’s despondency. CHARLOTTE BRONTË. The Struggles of Brown, Jones, and Robinson. BY ONE OF THE FIRM. CHAPTER I. PREFACE. It will be observed by the literary and commercial world that, in this transaction, the name of the really responsible party does not show on the title-page. I—George Robinson—am that party. When our Mr. Jones objected to the publication of these memoirs unless they appeared as coming from the firm itself, I at once gave way. I had no wish to offend the firm, and, perhaps, encounter a lawsuit for the empty honour of seeing my name advertised as that of an author. We talked the matter over with our Mr. Brown, who, however, was at that time in affliction, and not able to offer much that was available. One thing he did say: “As we are partners,” said Mr. Brown, “let’s be partners to the end.” “Well,” said I, “if you say so, Mr. Brown, so it shall be.” I never supposed that Mr. Brown would set the Thames on fire, and soon learnt that he was not the man to amass a fortune by British commerce. He was not made for the guild of Merchant Princes. But he was the senior member of our firm, and I always respected the old-fashioned doctrine of capital in the person of our Mr. Brown. When Mr. Brown said, “Let’s be partners to the end. It won’t be for long, Mr. Robinson,” I never said another word. “No,” said I, “Mr. Brown; you’re not what you was—and you’re down a peg; I’m not the man to take advantage and go against your last wishes. Whether for long or whether for short we’ll pull through in the same boat to the end. It shall be put on the title-page—‘By One of the Firm.’” “God bless you, Mr. Robinson,” said he; “God bless you.”