第8部分(第2/7 頁)

ging　to　be　buried；　as　a　politically　dead　man　ought。　So　much　formy　figurative　self。　The　real　human　being；　all　this　time；　with　his　headsafely　on　his　shoulders；　had　brought　himself　to　the　fortableconclusion　that　everything　was　for　the　best；　and；　making　an　investmentin　ink；　paper；　and　steel…pens；　had　opened　his　long…disusedwriting…desk；　and　was　again　a　literary　man。 Now　it　was　that　the　lucubrations　of　my　ancient　predecessor；　Mr。Surveyor　Pue；　came　into　play。　Rusty　through　long　idleness；　some　littlespace　y　intellectual　machinery　could　bebrought　to　work　upon　the　tale；　with　an　effect　in　any　degreesatisfactory。　Even　yet；　though　my　thoughts　were　ultimately　muchabsorbed　in　the　task；　it　wears；　to　my　eye；　a　stern　and　sombreaspect；　too　much　ungladdened　by　genial　sunshine；　too　little　relievedby　the　tender　and　familiar　influences　which　soften　almost　everyscene　of　nature　and　real　life；　and；　undoubtedly；　should　soften　everypicture　of　them。　This　uncaptivating　effect　is　perhaps　due　to　theperiod　of　hardly　acplished　revolution；　and　still　seethingturmoil；　in　which　the　story　shaped　itself。　It　is　no　indication；however；　of　a　lack　of　cheerfulness　in　the　writer's　mind；　for　he　washappier；　while　straying　through　the　gloom　of　these　sunlessfantasies；　than　at　any　time　since　he　had　quitted　the　Old　Manse。　Someof　the　briefer　articles；　which　contribute　to　make　up　the　volume；have　likewise　been　written　since　my　involuntary　withdrawal　from　thetoils　and　honours　of　public　life；　and　the　remainder　are　gleaned　fromannuals　and　magazines；　of　such　antique　date　that　they　have　goneround　the　circle；　and　e　back　to　novelty　again。　Keeping　up　themetaphor　of　the　political　guillotine；　the　whole　may　be　considered　asthe　POSTHUMOUS　PAPERS　OF　A　DECAPITATED　SURVEYOR；　and　the　sketchwhich　I　am　now　bringing　to　a　close；　if　too　autobi