The Argosy — page 140: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

126 A Crests in his Life. summer sunshine and giving no heed to their sliding progress ; until he sees something in the path that startles him. But the syren accounts for it in some plausible way ; it lulls his fear, and onward they go again. In time he sees something worse, halts, and asks her again : ‘¢Oh, what’s that in the hollow, so pale I quake to follow?” ‘*Oh that’s a thin dead body that waits the Eternal term.” The answer effectually arouses him, and he pulls up in terror, asking her to turn. She answers again, and he knows his fate. ‘¢Turn again, oh my sweetest ! Turn again, false and fleetest ! This way, whereof thou weetest, is surely Hell’s own track !” ** Nay, too late for cost counting, nay too steep for hill-mounting, This downward path is easy, but there’s no turning back.” Shakspeare tells us that there is a tide in the affairs of man, which, taken at the flood, leads on to fortune : omitted, all the voyage of the after life is spent in shoals and miseries. That will apply to other things besides fortune. I fully believe that after a young fellow has set out on the downward path, in almost all cases there’s a chance given him of pulling up again, if he only is but sufficiently wise and firm to seize upon it. The opportunity was to come for Tod. Hehad started ; there was . no doubt of that ; but he had not got down very far yet and could ‘go backward almost as easily as forward. Left alone, he would probably make a sliding run of it, and descend in the shoals. But the chance for him was at hand. : Our commons and Whitney’s went up to Gaiton’s room in the morn- ing, and we breakfasted there. Lecture that day was at eleven, but I had work to do beforehand. So had Tod, for the matter of that ; plenty of it. I went down to mine, but Tod stayed up with the two others. Bursting into our room, as a fellow does when he is late for anything, I saw at the open window somebody that I thought must be Mr. Brandon’s ghost. It took me aback, and for a moment I stood staring. ‘¢ Have you no greeting for me, Johnny Ludlow ? ” ‘‘T was lost in surprise, sir. JI am very glad to see you.” ‘‘T daresay you are!” he returned, as :f he doubted my word. “It’s a good half-hour that I have waited here. You've been at a break- fast party !” He must have got that from the scout. “Not at a party, sir. Gaiton asked us to take our commons up, and breakfast with him in his room.” ‘Who is Gaiton ?” ‘¢ He is Lord Gaiton. One of the students at Christchurch.” ‘¢ Never mind his being a lord. Is he any good?” I could not say Gaiton was particularly good, so passed the question over, and asked Mr. Brandon when he came ‘to\ Oxford. ‘“‘T got here at mid-day yesterday. How are you getting on?” SS (C(O) in —_)