The Blue Diamond

On the morning of my twenty-fifth birthday there was—I venture to affirm—no individual, within the bills of mortality of this great city, as luckless as myself. At eight of the clock on that morning I passed out of my boarding-house, having no right to re-enter it, in the character of a dweller therein, because I had nothing wherewith to satisfy the landlord's demands. I stood in the streets of this wealthy city, with no clothes save those upon my back, no money to purchase a crust—no name that I was legally entitled to use.

This condition of utter destitution in which I found myself requires explanation, and, especially, the last fact I have stated. That explanation is briefly this: My mother—whom I scarcely remembered—had died, as I had always been told, when I was about four years old. Since that time my home had been with my father, who lived in seclusion at a gloomy country-house, about thirty miles from the city, on the Hudson River. He had educated me entirely himself, and, as he was a man of great attainments, and possessed the faculty of imparting his knowledge to others in a marked degree, the education I thus received was complete in every part save one. But this, when I found myself in the condition I have described, proved to be the most essential thing I could have acquired. I was absolutely without knowledge of the ways of the world—knew nothing of business save its name—and, having never gone further from my father's house than a country walk would take me (except three short journeys, with him, to the wildest part of the State), I was as ignorant of men as the child unborn.

Thus I had lived, quite content with my lot; for, though my father never received visits or made them, and was rough and repellent with every one whom he was forced to meet, he was always kind to me, and I am sure that he really loved me. As for myself, I lavished upon him all the affection of… Read More