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Lost Lenore Volume I
Lost Lenore Volume I
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FAMILY AFFAIRS.
The first important event of my life transpired on the 22nd May, 1831.
On that day I was born.
Six weeks after, another event occurred which no doubt exerted an
influence over my destiny: I was christened Rowland Stone.
From what I have read of ancient history--principally as given by the
Jews--I have reason to think, that I am descended from an old and
illustrious family. No one can refute the evidence I have for believing
that some of my ancestors were in existence many hundred years ago.
The simple fact that I am in existence now is sufficient proof that my
family is of a descent, ancient and noble, as that of any other on
earth.
Perhaps there is no family, in its wanderings and struggles towards
remotest posterity, that has not experienced every vicissitude of
fortune; sometimes standing in the ranks of the great; and in the lapse
of ages descending to the lower strata of the social scale, and there
becoming historically lost.
I have not yet found it recorded, that any individual of the family to
which I belong ever held a very high position--not, in fact, since one
of them named Noah constructed a peculiar kind of sailing craft, of
which he was full owner, and captain.
It was my misfortune to be brought into existence at a period of the
world's history, when my father would be thought by many to be a man in
"humble circumstances of life." He used to earn an honest living by
hard work.
He was a saddle and harness-maker in an obscure street in the city of
Dublin, and his name was William Stone.
When memory dwells on my father, pride swells up in my soul: for he was
an honest, temperate, and industrious man, and was very kind to my
mother and his children. I should be an unworthy son, not to feel pride
at the remembrance of such a father!
There was nothing very remarkable in the character of my mother. I used
to think different once, but that was before I had arrived at the age of
reason. I used to think that she delighted to thwart my childish
inclinations--more than was necessary for her own happiness or mine.
But this was probably a fault of my wayward fancy. I am willing to
think so now.
The first important event of my life transpired on the 22nd May, 1831.
On that day I was born.
Six weeks after, another event occurred which no doubt exerted an
influence over my destiny: I was christened Rowland Stone.
From what I have read of ancient history--principally as given by the
Jews--I have reason to think, that I am descended from an old and
illustrious family. No one can refute the evidence I have for believing
that some of my ancestors were in existence many hundred years ago.
The simple fact that I am in existence now is sufficient proof that my
family is of a descent, ancient and noble, as that of any other on
earth.
Perhaps there is no family, in its wanderings and struggles towards
remotest posterity, that has not experienced every vicissitude of
fortune; sometimes standing in the ranks of the great; and in the lapse
of ages descending to the lower strata of the social scale, and there
becoming historically lost.
I have not yet found it recorded, that any individual of the family to
which I belong ever held a very high position--not, in fact, since one
of them named Noah constructed a peculiar kind of sailing craft, of
which he was full owner, and captain.
It was my misfortune to be brought into existence at a period of the
world's history, when my father would be thought by many to be a man in
"humble circumstances of life." He used to earn an honest living by
hard work.
He was a saddle and harness-maker in an obscure street in the city of
Dublin, and his name was William Stone.
When memory dwells on my father, pride swells up in my soul: for he was
an honest, temperate, and industrious man, and was very kind to my
mother and his children. I should be an unworthy son, not to feel pride
at the remembrance of such a father!
There was nothing very remarkable in the character of my mother. I used
to think different once, but that was before I had arrived at the age of
reason. I used to think that she delighted to thwart my childish
inclinations--more than was necessary for her own happiness or mine.
But this was probably a fault of my wayward fancy. I am willing to
think so now.
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