Children of clergy -- Fiction; Christian fiction; Fathers and daughters -- Fiction; Scotland -- Fiction
"One evening I have particular cause to remember, both for itself,
and because of something that followed many years after. I was in the
drawing-room on the first floor, a double room with folding doors and a
small cabinet behind communicating with a back stair; for the stairs were
double all through the house, adding much to the _eeriness_ of the place
as I look back upon it in my memory. I fear, in describing the place so
minutely, I may have been rousing false expectations of an adventure; but
I have a reason for being rather minute, though it will not appear until
afterwards. I had been looking out of the window all the afternoon upon
the silent square, for, as it was no thoroughfare, it was only enlivened by
the passing and returning now and then of a tradesman's cart; and, as it
was winter, there were no children playing in the garden. It was a rainy
afternoon. A gray cloud of fog and soot hung from the whole sky. About a
score of yellow leaves yet quivered on the trees, and the statue of Queen
Anne stood bleak and disconsolate among the bare branches. I am afraid I
am getting long-winded, but somehow that afternoon seems burned into me
in enamel. I gazed drearily without interest. I brooded over the past;
I never, at this time, so far as I remember, dreamed of looking forward.
I had no hope. It never occurred to me that things might grow better. I
was dull and wretched. I may just say here in passing, that I think this
experience is in a great measure what has enabled me to understand the
peculiar misery of the poor in our large towns,--they have no hope, no
impulse to look forward, nothing to expect; they live but in the present,
and the dreariness of that soon shapes the whole atmosphere of their
spirits to its own likeness. Perhaps the first thing one who would help
them has to do is to aid the birth of some small vital hope in them; that
is better than a thousand gifts, especially those of the ordinary kind,
which mostly do harm, tending to keep them what they are,--a prey to
present and importunate wants.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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