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complementary colors。
Goodness！exclaimed the Landlady。…What！ complimentary to our
party？
Her wits must have been a good deal confused by the strange sights of
the evening。 She had seen tickets marked complimentary； she
remembered； but she could not for the life of her understand why our
party should be particularly favored at a celestial exhibition like
this。 On the whole； she questioned inwardly whether it might not be
some subtle pleasantry； and smiled； experimentally； with a note of
interrogation in the smile； but； finding no encouragement； allowed
her features to subside gradually as if nothing had happened。 I saw
all this as plainly as if it had all been printed in great…primer
type； instead of working itself out in her features。 I like to see
other people muddled now and then； because my own occasional dulness
is relieved by a good solid background of stupidity in my neighbors。
And the two revolve round each other？ said the Young Girl。
Yes；he answered；two suns； a greater and a less； each shining；
but with a different light； for the other。
How charming！ It must be so much pleasanter than to be alone in
such a great empty space！ I should think one would hardly care to
shine if its light wasted itself in the monstrous solitude of the
sky。 Does not a single star seem very lonely to you up there？
Not more lonely than I am myself；answered the Young Astronomer。
I don't know what there was in those few words； but I noticed that
for a minute or two after they； were uttered I heard the ticking of
the clock…work that moved the telescope as clearly as if we had all
been holding our breath； and listening for the music of the spheres。
The Young Girl kept her eye closely applied to the eye…piece of the
telescope a very long time； it seemed to me。 Those double stars
interested her a good deal； no doubt。 When she looked off from the
glass I thought both her eyes appeared very much as if they had been
a little strained； for they were suffused and glistening。 It may be
that she pitied the lonely young man。
I know nothing in the world tenderer than the pity that a kind…
hearted young girl has for a young man who feels lonely。 It is true
that these dear creatures are all compassion for every form of human
woe； and anxious to alleviate all human misfortunes。 They will go to
Sunday…schools through storms their brothers are afraid of； to teach
the most unpleasant and intractable classes of little children the
age of Methuselah and the dimensions of Og the King of Bashan's
bedstead。 They will stand behind a table at a fair all day until
they are ready to drop； dressed in their prettiest clothes and their
sweetest smiles； and lay hands upon you； likeso many Lady
Potiphars；perfectly correct ones； of course；to make you buy what
you do not want； at prices which you cannot afford； all this as
cheerfully as if it were not martyrdom to them as well as to you。
Such is their love for all good objects； such their eagerness to
sympathize with all their suffering fellow…creatures！ But there is
nothing they pity as they pity a lonely young man。
I am sure； I sympathize with her in this instance。 To see a pale
student burning away； like his own midnight lamp； with only dead
men's hands to hold； stretched out to him from the sepulchres of
books； and dead men's souls imploring him from their tablets to warm
them over again just for a little while in a human consciousness；
when all this time there are soft； warm； living hands that would ask
nothing better than to bring the blood back into those cold thin
fingers； and gently caressing natures that would wind all their
tendrils about the unawakened heart which knows so little of itself；
is pitiable enough and would be sadder still if we did not have the
feeling that sooner or later the pale student will be pretty sure to
feel the breath of a young girl against his cheek as she looks over
his shoulder； and that he will come all at once to an illuminated
page in his book that never writer traced in characters； and never
printer set up in type； and never binder enclosed within his covers！
But our young man seems farther away from life than any student whose
head is bent downwards over his books。 His eyes are turned away from
all human things。 How cold the moonlight is that falls upon his
forehead； and how white he looks in it！ Will not the rays strike
through to his brain at last； and send him to a narrower cell than
this egg…shell dome which is his workshop and his prison？
I cannot say that the Young Astronomer seemed particularly impressed
with a sense of his miserable condition。 He said he was lonely； it
is true； but he said it in a manly tone； and not as if he were
repining at the inevitable condition of his devoting himself to that
particular branch of science。 Of course； he is lonely； the most
lonely being that lives in the midst of our breathing world。 If he
would only stay a little longer with us when we get talking； but he
is busy almost always either in observation or with his calculations
and studies； and when the nights are fair loses so much sleep that he
must make it up by day。 He wants contact with human beings。 I wish
he would change his seat and come round and sit by our Scheherezade！
The rest of the visit went off well enough； except that the 〃Man of
Letters；〃 so called； rather snubbed some of the heavenly bodies as
not quite up to his standard of brilliancy。 I thought myself that
the double…star episode was the best part of it。
I have an unexpected revelation to make to the reader。 Not long
after our visit to the Observatory； the Young Astronomer put a
package into my hands； a manuscript； evidently； which he said he
would like to have me glance over。 I found something in it which
interested me； and told him the next day that I should like to read
it with some care。 He seemed rather pleased at this； and said that
he wished I would criticise it as roughly as I liked； and if I saw
anything in it which might be dressed to better advantage to treat it
freely； just as if it were my own production。 It had often happened
to him； he went on to say； to be interrupted in his observations by
clouds covering the objects he was examining for a longer or shorter
time。 In these idle moments he had put down many thoughts；
unskilfully he feared； but just as they came into his mind。 His
blank verse he suspected was often faulty。 His thoughts he knew must
be crude； many of them。 It would please him to have me amuse myself
by putting them into shape。 He was kind enough to say that I was an
artist in words； but he held himself as an unskilled apprentice。
I confess I was appalled when I cast my eye upon the title of the
manuscript； 〃Cirri and Nebulae。〃
Oh！ oh！I said；that will never do。 People don't know what
Cirri are； at least not one out of fifty readers。 〃Wind…Clouds and
Star…Drifts〃 will do better than that。
Anything you like；he answered；what difference does it make how
you christen a foundling？ These are not my legitimate scientific
offspring； and you may consider them left on your doorstep。
I will not attempt to say just how much of the diction of these
lines belongs to him； and how much to me。 He said he would never
claim them； after I read them to him in my version。 I； on my part；
do not wish to be held responsible for some of his more daring
thoughts； if I should see fit to reproduce them hereafter。 At this
time I shall give only the first part of the series of poetical
outbreaks for which the young devotee of science must claim his share
of the responsibility。 I may put some more passages into shape by
and by。
WIND…CLOUDS AND STAR…DRIFTS。
I
Another clouded night； the stars are hid；
The orb that waits my search is hid with them。
Patience！ Why grudge an hour； a month； a year；
To plant my ladder and to gain the round
That leads my footsteps to the heaven of fame；
Where waits the wreath my sleepless midnights won？
Not the stained laurel such as heroes wear
That withers when some stronger conqueror's heel
Treads down their shrivelling trophies in the dust；
But the fair garland whose undying green
Not time can change； nor wrath of gods or men！
With quickened heart…beats I shall hear the tongues
That speak my praise； but better far the sense
That in the unshaped ages； buried deep
In the dark mines of unaccomplished time
Yet to be stamped with morning's royal die
And coined in golden days；in those dim years
I shall be reckoned with the undying dead；
My name emblazoned on the fiery arch；
Unfading till the stars themselves shall fade。
Then； as they call the roll of shining worlds；
Sages of race unborn in accents new
Shall count me with the Olympian ones of old；
Whose glories kindle through the midnight sky
Here glows the God of Battles； this recalls
The Lord of Ocean； and yon far…off sphere
The Sire of Him who gave his ancient name
To the dim planet with the wondrous rings；
Here flames the Queen of Beauty's silver lamp；
And there the moon…girt orb of mighty Jove；
But this； unseen through all earth's aeons past；
A youth who watched beneath the western star
Sought in the darknes