Welsh Journals

124 WHAT CANNOT LOVE DO. CHAPTEE V. A LITEEAEY ADVENTURE. Larry O'Neill was by no means so rash in leaving Ireland, and in committing himself on such apparently weak motives to that unceasing giddy whirl we call London life, as observers might have thought. He had in his late idle way speculated for many past weeks- on the career of a literary man, where only he could be certain to find a broad and fruitful field for fitting labourers, the British capital. But he would probably have gone on speculating and doing nothing but for the stir given to his whole heart and soul by his memorable meeting with Miss Blake. For he had no introductions—the life and work would be entirely new, and the struggle might be arduous, while he was- still self-indulgent. But now all things were changed. And his very first day in London was signalised by his writing to the editors of a paper distinguished for the catholicity of its opinions, the depth and moderation of its tone, and the earnestness of its policy, espe¬ cially on subjects relating to the welfare of the people. Also for the example it set to its brethren—though few cared to follow—of opening its pages to attacks on itself or its policy,, where the writer was acting in self-defence, or controverting its opinions with something like a right to be heard. The letter was so characteristic that it must be given in his- own words :— Gentlemen—I am a young Irishman, have lately taken my degree at Trinity College, Dublin, and have come late last night to London, knowing not a soul in it, to try what I can do in the way of earning honest bread. I have no credentials, no introductions, unless the endorsed slip cut from a Dublin paper, containing a notice of a new play that accident caused me to- write, may serve. Tired and ashamed of the idle life I have led since leaving the University, my thoughts have turned first to you, for a very simple reason. Your paper has for months past been the unfailing accomjianiment and solace of my Sunday rambles, and so far as the opinions, tastes, and views of so young a man—who does try to think for himself—can be said to have any serious and independent value, they are in accordance with your own, and largely indebted to you. I am not without private means, though small. Am prepared for hard workr and hopeful I can do good work. And the greatest possible service that could be rendered me would be the opportunity to discover for what work I am best fitted. I will call at eleven to-morrow, and I shall feel greatly indebted to you if I may have the honour of an interview, however brief.—I am, with great respect, your obedient servant, Larry O'Neill. In sending that notice, Larry had not only the obvious and. natural motive he suggested, but a very sly one besides, known