I suppose all of
you have had the pocket-book fever when you were little?--What do I
mean? Why, ripping up old pocket-books in the firm belief that
bank-bills to an immense amount were hidden in them.--So, too, you
must all remember some splendid unfulfilled promise of somebody or
other, which fed you with hopes perhaps for years, and which left a
blank in your life which nothing has ever filled up.--O. T. quitted
our household carrying with him the passionate regrets of the more
youthful members. He was an ingenious youngster; wrote wonderful
copies, and carved the two initials given above with great skill on
all available surfaces. I thought, by the way, they were all gone;
but the other day I found them on a certain door which I will show
you some time. How it surprised me to find them so near the
ground! I had thought the boy of no trivial dimensions. Well, O.
T., when he went, made a solemn promise to two of us. I was to
have a ship, and the other a marTIN-house (last syllable pronounced
as in the word TIN). Neither ever came; but, oh, how many and many
a time I have stolen to the corner,--the cars pass close by it at
this time,--and looked up that long avenue, thinking that he must
be coming now, almost sure, as I turned to look northward, that
there he would be, trudging toward me, the ship in one hand and the
marTIN-house in the other!
[You must not suppose that all I am going to say, as well as all I
have said, was told to the whole company.
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