THE SWALLOW’S SECOND LETTER.I have striven to beguile the days of absence by relating my experiences as they occuren route, knowing that loving hearts find a charm in incidents the most simple and the most indifferent to strangers. The weather favours my progress, and nature is arrayed in her gayest attire. It seems, indeed, as if the kindly sun shone her brightest to cheer me on my way.I have made a multitude of new acquaintances, nevertheless you need neither feel jealous nor uneasy on my account. I have not the leisure, still less the desire, to make friends, although I am forced at times to halt and acknowledge courtesies, as my quality of stranger has opened the hearts and homes of many hospitable tribes. Notwithstanding the fact that pressing invitations pour in upon me, I studiously refuse to accept them, preferring as I do my wandering life, full of all that is unexpected and capricious, above the daintiest fare and the finest society.You predicted ennui and disenchantment. I still happily await the advent of these foes, taking my amusements when and where I findthem. Up to the present moment these last have come unbidden to my door.This morning I breakfastedtête-à-têtewith the most accomplished singer I have ever heard, a Nightingale, who, willingly yielding to my entreaties, at the close of our repast sang some of his favourite pieces.It was not without a feeling of vanity that I thought of those who would have given anything to fill my place. All distinctions, you know,are flattering, and the one which made me the sole listener to harmony so divine, made me more important in my own eyes.I was strongly impressed with the simplicity of the artist. Seeing him sonégligéin his dress, so careless in his posture and manner, no one would have thought that he was a person so distinguished, at least I have still a strange illusion that prompts me to look for talent only beneath a grave and dignified exterior. I have discovered that this is simply an illusion, you will therefore admit I have made some progress.This remarkable tenor informed me that he lives for his pleasure, the best mode of living one can adopt; so he said, but I doubted the soundness of the opinion, and was careful not to be led away by doctrine so heterodox.A happy and useless existence is not what I dream of, I who have the faculties of feeling and understanding. My desire is to add one more stone to the edifice which is rising up in the shade on the ruins of a dying civilisation. I have thought for some time of entering upon a literary career—all my tastes lie in that direction—as it would enable me to carry out my schemes for the regeneration of females. This question has absorbed my attention from my earliest youth. I can picture you smiling at what you call my folly and ambition, let me tell you once for all, you can no more conceive the pure happiness to which I aspire than I can accept life in your style.But what does it matter; although we differ in opinion, our friendship is true, lasting, and sincere. The charming sweetness of your character enables you to overlook my faults and my extreme vivacity, and in return I hope that my deep regard helps to render your captivity less galling and monotonous.I have just left my amiable songster, and, strange as it may appear, without regret. My curiosity and thirst for knowledge increase daily since I have at last begun to see and learn. A Jay whom I met in the environs preceded me, and promised to warmly recommend me on her way. In short, I can never find space to name, far less to praise, all those who have received me with a fraternal welcome. Had I followed your timid advice, I should have been constantly on my guard against tokens of affection, in case they might be held out as snares to betray me. But when I reflect on the life you lead, I am not surprised to find you swayed by warped notions of the world and its winged tribes. You cannot form just impressions of objects seen through the bars of a cage, they must appear distorted and confused. It must be so. Youhave never left your retreat, and your little world is filled by five or six creatures, objects of affection; all this renders it impossible for you to give an intelligent account of things of which you know absolutely nothing, or to appreciate without error what you have never seen.It is true your youth was passed in a spacious aviary, where you respectfully received the lessons and counsels of some old fellows reputed for their wisdom; even these venerable teachers never breathed the air of liberty, and the sort of experience of which they were proud they owed solely to their great age, and not to free and independent research. I feel certain that I shall learn all these sages knew, and more, in a single journey. Before, indeed, I can venture to advocate reform in any shape I must travel, and read the living books in birds of every feather. I must study the degrading positions into which females of many so-called civilised lands have drifted, and find out how best to befriend them. My heart is filled by immense projects, and I need not disguise the fact that I may not see you for many days.Adieu, it is getting late; I continue my journey—always southwards.
I have striven to beguile the days of absence by relating my experiences as they occuren route, knowing that loving hearts find a charm in incidents the most simple and the most indifferent to strangers. The weather favours my progress, and nature is arrayed in her gayest attire. It seems, indeed, as if the kindly sun shone her brightest to cheer me on my way.
I have made a multitude of new acquaintances, nevertheless you need neither feel jealous nor uneasy on my account. I have not the leisure, still less the desire, to make friends, although I am forced at times to halt and acknowledge courtesies, as my quality of stranger has opened the hearts and homes of many hospitable tribes. Notwithstanding the fact that pressing invitations pour in upon me, I studiously refuse to accept them, preferring as I do my wandering life, full of all that is unexpected and capricious, above the daintiest fare and the finest society.
You predicted ennui and disenchantment. I still happily await the advent of these foes, taking my amusements when and where I findthem. Up to the present moment these last have come unbidden to my door.
This morning I breakfastedtête-à-têtewith the most accomplished singer I have ever heard, a Nightingale, who, willingly yielding to my entreaties, at the close of our repast sang some of his favourite pieces.
It was not without a feeling of vanity that I thought of those who would have given anything to fill my place. All distinctions, you know,are flattering, and the one which made me the sole listener to harmony so divine, made me more important in my own eyes.
I was strongly impressed with the simplicity of the artist. Seeing him sonégligéin his dress, so careless in his posture and manner, no one would have thought that he was a person so distinguished, at least I have still a strange illusion that prompts me to look for talent only beneath a grave and dignified exterior. I have discovered that this is simply an illusion, you will therefore admit I have made some progress.
This remarkable tenor informed me that he lives for his pleasure, the best mode of living one can adopt; so he said, but I doubted the soundness of the opinion, and was careful not to be led away by doctrine so heterodox.
A happy and useless existence is not what I dream of, I who have the faculties of feeling and understanding. My desire is to add one more stone to the edifice which is rising up in the shade on the ruins of a dying civilisation. I have thought for some time of entering upon a literary career—all my tastes lie in that direction—as it would enable me to carry out my schemes for the regeneration of females. This question has absorbed my attention from my earliest youth. I can picture you smiling at what you call my folly and ambition, let me tell you once for all, you can no more conceive the pure happiness to which I aspire than I can accept life in your style.
But what does it matter; although we differ in opinion, our friendship is true, lasting, and sincere. The charming sweetness of your character enables you to overlook my faults and my extreme vivacity, and in return I hope that my deep regard helps to render your captivity less galling and monotonous.
I have just left my amiable songster, and, strange as it may appear, without regret. My curiosity and thirst for knowledge increase daily since I have at last begun to see and learn. A Jay whom I met in the environs preceded me, and promised to warmly recommend me on her way. In short, I can never find space to name, far less to praise, all those who have received me with a fraternal welcome. Had I followed your timid advice, I should have been constantly on my guard against tokens of affection, in case they might be held out as snares to betray me. But when I reflect on the life you lead, I am not surprised to find you swayed by warped notions of the world and its winged tribes. You cannot form just impressions of objects seen through the bars of a cage, they must appear distorted and confused. It must be so. Youhave never left your retreat, and your little world is filled by five or six creatures, objects of affection; all this renders it impossible for you to give an intelligent account of things of which you know absolutely nothing, or to appreciate without error what you have never seen.
It is true your youth was passed in a spacious aviary, where you respectfully received the lessons and counsels of some old fellows reputed for their wisdom; even these venerable teachers never breathed the air of liberty, and the sort of experience of which they were proud they owed solely to their great age, and not to free and independent research. I feel certain that I shall learn all these sages knew, and more, in a single journey. Before, indeed, I can venture to advocate reform in any shape I must travel, and read the living books in birds of every feather. I must study the degrading positions into which females of many so-called civilised lands have drifted, and find out how best to befriend them. My heart is filled by immense projects, and I need not disguise the fact that I may not see you for many days.
Adieu, it is getting late; I continue my journey—always southwards.