" "You
are an angel!" said Horatio, with his eyes fixed on the ground--(the
spirit of the angel of benevolence,--quoth Reason, whispering in his
ear, would have been
~19~~
a better metaphor,--certainly inhabits the aged bosom of your father's
sister). Horatio's upraised eye rested on the wrinkled front of his
antique relative, just as the corrective thought gleamed in visionary
brightness o'er his brain; the poetic inspiration of the moment fled
like the passing meteor, but the feeling which excited it remained
engrafted on his memory for ever. "How shall we find him out, my dear
Horatio?" said my aunt, her whole countenance animated with delight
at the last flattering ejaculation of her nephew-"where shall we
seek him?--I'll order the carriage directly." The glow of pleasure
and anticipatory gratification, which at this moment beamed in the
countenance of the old lady, brought back the circling current of health
to the cheeks of age, and, with the blush of honest feeling, dispelled
the stains of time; the furrowed streaks of care vanished from her
front, and left her whole frame proportionably invigorated.
If the mere contemplation of a generous action can thus inspire the
young, and give new life to age, what a load of misery and deformity
might not the sons and daughters of nature divest themselves of, by
following the inherent dictates of benevolence! Reflection, whenever he
deigned to penetrate the pericranium of my cousin Horatio, took entire
possession of the citadel, and left him not even the smallest loophole
for the observation of any passing event.
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