Read Ebook: O senhor Dom Miguel I e a senhora Dona Maria II Comparações reflexões desengano by Novaes Vieira Jo O Augusto

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Ebook has 230 lines and 15074 words, and 5 pages

O Snr. D. Miguel I foi Rei absoluto, e comtudo n?o deve ser responsavel por muitos crimes, que se praticaram em seu nome, e que elle ainda hoje ignora.

A Snr.? D. Maria II ? Rainha constitucional, e n'esta qualidade irresponsavel pelos actos do seu governo.

Silencio!... e deixai-nos respirar um pouco, antes de passarmos ?

TERCEIRA PARTE.

DESENGANO.

Pois se ha quem tal pense, est? completamente enganado.

Eis-aqui uns apontamentos para a byographia do miseravel sapateiro, escriptos conscienciosamente, sem odio ou affei??o.

Que honrada gente! E n?o lhes coram as faces, quando apparecem em publico!

D'um lado uma consciencia t?o larga, que fez do sapateiro um homem honrado, piedoso, realista, &c. &c. Do outro uma consciencia t?o estreita e mesquinha, que se despede da Assemblea, porque a quasi totalidade dos socios resolv?ra obsequiar S. M. a Rainha!!!

Do direito fazem torto Estes astutos velhacos; Chamam gente a um asno morto... Tal ? o poder dos patacos!!!

F?ra d'ahi, snr. Francisco Candido! Um homem de probidade aust?ra n?o p?de, nem deve escrever na infame gazeta inaugurada sob a responsabilidade do homem mais despresivel que existia no Porto. F?ra d'ahi! Deixe o logar a esses scelerados que lh'o cobi?am. F?ra d'ahi, que a quest?o, para elles, ? s? quest?o de dinheiro. F?ra d'ahi, se n?o quer que o publico o tenha na mesma conta em que os tem a elles.

N?o acontecia assim com a PATRIA, que nunca levou nem um real por semelhantes correspondencias--porque o redactor da PATRIA n?o sabia ser gazeteiro, e o snr. Francisco Candido bem conhece aquelles que o roubaram, abusando do seu demasiado cavalheirismo e boa f?.

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<<................... pirata inico Dos trabalhos alheios feito rico>>

Porque se finge victima d'uma persegui??o acintosa, e encontra um delegado mais macio do que velludo.

Porque calumn?a por g?sto, para especular com a honra, com o credito e com o suor alheio.

Porque se diz realista, e foi chuchando as moedas do snr. Cachapuz, para o defender como auctoridade realista.

Porque anda todos os dias a atirar ? pra?a publica o nome do Tio da Rainha, s? pelo g?sto de o v?r desacatado pelas turbas, para depois ganhar patacos com as suas defesas e compara??es.

Escusaes de andar com investiga??es, prohibindo os vossos empregados de fallarem commigo--porque eu sei tudo o que se passa entre v?s, e fui avisado, em tempo competente, d'aquella proposta, que se fez em certa reuni?o......................, de se darem algumas moedas a quem..................... e folguei muito de que alguns cavalheiros se portassem como verdadeiros fidalgos portuguezes, embora illudidos, repellindo uma proposta t?o miseravel.

Podeis continuar a perseguir-me, que com isso s? conseguis augmentar a avers?o que vos tenho.

Leitores, desculpai a duresa da phrase e a desigualdade do estylo. Este folheto foi escripto ao correr da penna, e resente-se das alternativas da minha vida.--Eu penso com Chateaubriand que ? uma loucura atirar com o meu nome ao meio da multid?o;--comtudo para que se n?o julgue que declino a responsabilidade, aqui p?nho a minha assignatura.

Porto 18 de Maio de 1852.

Por ser a confraria dos sapateiros.

E era muito bom juiz, especialmente da arte do padre Antonio Vieira.

P?ta refinada.

Refinadissima p?ta.

Se elle estava tonto de todo, que lhe havia de importar?

Ou alguem testou por elle.... quem sabe?...

Pod?ra n?o!

A good deal less than this would have reached Jack's sense of generosity. He hid his face again, and hated himself, but pride still maintained the ascendency. He could not let the other man see.

"It is that that makes you hold her so lightly," Cranston went on. "If she had a white mother, my girl, aye, wi' half her beauty and her goodness, would have put the fear of God into ye. Well, the consequences of my mistake shall not be visited on her head if I can prevent it. What does an idle lad like you know of the worth of women? You measure them by their beauty, which is nothing. She has a mind like an opening flower. She is my companion. All these years I have been silenced and dumb, and now I have one to talk to that understands what a white man feels!

"She is a white woman. Some of the best blood of Scotland runs in her veins. She's a Cranston. Match her wi' his lordship's daughter there, the daughter of the grocer. Match her wi' the whitest lilies of them all, and my girl will outshine them in beauty, aye, and outwear them in courage and steadfastness! And she's worthy to bear sons and daughters in turn that any man might be proud to father!"

He came to a full stop. Jack sat up, scowling fiercely, and looking five years younger by reason of his sheepishness. What he had to say came out in jerks. "It's damn hard to get it out," he stuttered. "I'm sorry. I'm ashamed of myself. What else can I say? I swear to you I'll never lay a finger of disrespect on her. For heaven's sake go, and let me be by myself!"

Cranston promptly rose. "Spoken like a man, my lad," he said laconically. "I'll say no more. Good-night to ye." He strode away.

THE CONJUROR

Morning breaks, one awakes refreshed and quiescent, and, wondering a little at the heats and disturbances of the day before, makes a fresh start. Mary was not to be seen about the fort, and Jack presently learned that she and Davy had departed on horseback at daybreak for the Indian camp at Swan Lake. He was relieved, for, after what had happened, the thought of having to meet Mary and adjust himself to a new footing made him uncomfortable.

Jack's self-love had received a serious blow, and he secretly longed for something to rehabilitate himself in his own eyes. At the same time he was not moved by any animosity toward Cranston, the instrument of his downfall; on the contrary, though he could not have explained it, he felt decidedly drawn toward the grim trader, and after a while he sheepishly entered the store in search of him. He found Cranston quite as diffident as himself, quite as anxious to let bygones be bygones. There was genuine warmth in his handclasp.

They made common cause in deriding the gubernatorial party.

"Lord love ye!" said Cranston. "Never was an outfit like to that! Card-tables, mind ye, and folding chairs, and hanging lamps, and a son-of-a-gun of a big oil-stove that burns blue blazes! Fancy accommodating that to a horse's back! I've sent out to round up all the company horses. They'll need half a regiment to carry that stuff."

"What's the governor's game up here?" asked Jack.

"You've got me," said Cranston. "Coal lands in the canyon, he says."

"That's pretty thin," said Jack. "It doesn't need a blooming governor and his train to look at a a bit of coal. There's plenty of coal nearer home."

"There's a piece about it in one of the papers the steamboat brought," said Cranston.

He found the place, and exhibited it to Jack, who read a fulsome account of how his honour Sir Bryson Trangmar had decided to spend the summer vacation of the legislature in touring the North of the province, with a view of looking into its natural resources; that the journey had been hastily determined upon, and was to be of a strictly non-official character, hence there were to be no ceremonies en route beyond the civilities extended to any private traveller; that this was only one more example of the democratic tendencies of our popular governor, etc.

"Natural resources," quoted Jack. "That's the ring in the cake!"

"You think the coal they're after has a yellow shine?" suggested Cranston.

"They stopped here," said Cranston. "I remember them."

"Good Lord!" cried Cranston, "the governor himself!"

"If it's true," cried Jack, "it's the richest thing that ever happened! A hundred years from now they'll still be telling the story around the fires and splitting their sides over it. It's like Beckford, too; he was a humourist in his way. This is too good to miss. I believe I'll go back with them."

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