第21章

Fromthattimeuntilthemomentofarrival，itwasallfeverish excitement。Theshipsofwar，thatprowledlikeguardiangiants alongthecoast；theheadlandsofIreland，stretchingoutintothe channel；theWelshmountains，toweringintotheclouds；allwere objectsofintenseinterest。AswesaileduptheMersey，I reconnoitredtheshorewithatelescope。Myeyedweltwithdelight onneatcottages，withtheirtrimshrubberiesandgreengrassplots。I sawthemoulderingruinofanabbeyoverrunwithivy，andthetaper spireofavillagechurchrisingfromthebrowofaneighboring hill—allwerecharacteristicofEngland。 Thetideandwindweresofavorablethattheshipwasenabledto comeatoncetothepier。Itwasthrongedwithpeople；some，idle lookers—on，others，eagerexpectantsoffriendsorrelatives。Icould distinguishthemerchanttowhomtheshipwasconsigned。Iknewhimby hiscalculatingbrowandrestlessair。Hishandswerethrustintohis pockets；hewaswhistlingthoughtfully，andwalkingtoandfro，a smallspacehavingbeenaccordedhimbythecrowd，indeferencetohis temporaryimportance。Therewererepeatedcheeringsandsalutations interchangedbetweentheshoreandtheship，asfriendshappenedto recognizeeachother。Iparticularlynoticedoneyoungwomanofhumble dress，butinterestingdemeanor。Shewasleaningforwardfromamong thecrowd；hereyehurriedovertheshipasitnearedtheshore，to catchsomewished—forcountenance。Sheseemeddisappointedand agitated；whenIheardafaintvoicecallhername。Itwasfromapoor sailorwhohadbeenillallthevoyage，andhadexcitedthesympathy ofeveryoneonboard。Whentheweatherwasfine，hismessmateshad spreadamattressforhimondeckintheshade，butoflatehis illnesshadsoincreased，thathehadtakentohishammock，andonly breathedawishthathemightseehiswifebeforehedied。Hehadbeen helpedondeckaswecameuptheriver，andwasnowleaningagainst theshrouds，withacountenancesowasted，sopale，soghastly，that itwasnowondereventheeyeofaffectiondidnotrecognizehim。But atthesoundofhisvoice，hereyedartedonhisfeatures；itread， atonce，awholevolumeofsorrow；sheclaspedherhands，uttereda faintshriek，andstoodwringingtheminsilentagony。 Allnowwashurryandbustle。Themeetingsofacquaintances—the greetingsoffriends—theconsultationsofmenofbusiness。Ialone wassolitaryandidle。Ihadnofriendtomeet，nocheeringto receive。Isteppeduponthelandofmyforefathers—butfeltthatI wasastrangerintheland。 THEEND。 1819—20 THESKETCHBOOK THEWIDOWANDHERSON byWashingtonIrving Pittieoldeage，withinwhosesilverhaires Honourandreverenceevermorehaverain’d。 MARLOWE’STAMBURLAINE。 THOSEwhoareinthehabitofremarkingsuchmatters，musthave noticedthepassivequietofanEnglishlandscapeonSunday。The clackingofthemill，theregularlyrecurringstrokeoftheflail，the dinoftheblacksmith’shammer，thewhistlingoftheploughman，the rattlingofthecart，andallothersoundsofrurallaborare suspended。Theveryfarm—dogsbarklessfrequently，beingless disturbedbypassingtravellers。AtsuchtimesIhavealmostfancied thewindssunkintoquiet，andthatthesunnylandscape，withits freshgreentintsmeltingintobluehaze，enjoyedthehallowedcalm。 Sweetday，sopure，socalm，sobright， Thebridaloftheearthandsky。 Wellwasitordainedthatthedayofdevotionshouldbeadayofrest。 Theholyreposewhichreignsoverthefaceofnature，hasitsmoral influence；everyrestlesspassionischarmeddown，andwefeelthe naturalreligionofthesoulgentlyspringingupwithinus。Formy part，therearefeelingsthatvisitme，inacountrychurch，amid thebeautifulserenityofnature，whichIexperiencenowhereelse；and ifnotamorereligious，IthinkIamabettermanonSundaythanon anyotherdayoftheseven。 Duringmyrecentresidenceinthecountry，Iusedfrequentlyto attendattheoldvillagechurch。Itsshadowyaisles；itsmouldering monuments；itsdarkoakenpanelling，allreverendwiththegloomof departedyears，seemedtofititforthehauntofsolemnmeditation； butbeinginawealthyaristocraticneighborhood，theglitterof fashionpenetratedevenintothesanctuary；andIfeltmyself continuallythrownbackupontheworldbythefrigidityandpompof thepoorwormsaroundme。Theonlybeinginthewholecongregationwho appearedthoroughlytofeelthehumbleandprostratepietyofatrue Christianwasapoordecrepitoldwoman，bendingundertheweightof yearsandinfirmities。Sheborethetracesofsomethingbetterthan abjectpoverty。Thelingeringsofdecentpridewerevisibleinher appearance。Herdress，thoughhumbleintheextreme，was scrupulouslyclean。Sometrivialrespect，too，hadbeenawardedher， forshedidnottakeherseatamongthevillagepoor，butsataloneon thestepsofthealtar。Sheseemedtohavesurvivedalllove，all friendship，allsociety；andtohavenothingleftherbutthehopesof heaven。WhenIsawherfeeblyrisingandbendingheragedformin prayer；habituallyconningherprayer—book，whichherpalsiedhandand failingeyeswouldnotpermithertoread，butwhichsheevidently knewbyheart；Ifeltpersuadedthatthefalteringvoiceofthat poorwomanarosetoheavenfarbeforetheresponsesoftheclerk， theswelloftheorgan，orthechantingofthechoir。 Iamfondofloiteringaboutcountrychurches，andthiswasso delightfullysituated，thatitfrequentlyattractedme。Itstoodon aknoll，roundwhichasmallstreammadeabeautifulbend，andthen wounditswaythroughalongreachofsoftmeadowscenery。The churchwassurroundedbyyew—treeswhichseemedalmostcoevalwith itself。ItstallGothicspireshotuplightlyfromamongthem，with rooksandcrowsgenerallywheelingaboutit。Iwasseatedthereone stillsunnymorning，watchingtwolaborerswhowerediggingagrave。 Theyhadchosenoneofthemostremoteandneglectedcornersofthe church—yard；where，fromthenumberofnamelessgravesaround，it wouldappearthattheindigentandfriendlesswerehuddledintothe earth。Iwastoldthatthenew—madegravewasfortheonlysonofa poorwidow。WhileIwasmeditatingonthedistinctionsofworldly rank，whichextendthusdownintotheverydust，thetollofthe bellannouncedtheapproachofthefuneral。Theyweretheobsequiesof poverty，withwhichpridehadnothingtodo。Acoffinofthe plainestmaterials，withoutpallorothercovering，wasborneby someofthevillagers。Thesextonwalkedbeforewithanairofcold indifference。Therewerenomockmournersinthetrappingsofaffected woe；buttherewasonerealmournerwhofeeblytotteredafterthe corpse。Itwastheagedmotherofthedeceased—thepooroldwoman whomIhadseenseatedonthestepsofthealtar。Shewassupportedby ahumblefriend，whowasendeavoringtocomforther。Afewofthe neighboringpoorhadjoinedthetrain，andsomechildrenofthe villagewererunninghandinhand，nowshoutingwithunthinkingmirth， andnowpausingtogaze，withchildishcuriosity，onthegriefof themourner。 Asthefuneraltrainapproachedthegrave，theparsonissuedfrom thechurchporch，arrayedinthesurplice，withprayer—bookinhand， andattendedbytheclerk。Theservice，however，wasamereactof charity。Thedeceasedhadbeendestitute，andthesurvivorwas penniless。Itwasshuffledthrough，therefore，inform，butcoldlyand unfeelingly。Thewell—fedpriestmovedbutafewstepsfromthechurch door；hisvoicecouldscarcelybeheardatthegrave；andneverdid Ihearthefuneralservice，thatsublimeandtouchingceremony，turned intosuchafrigidmummeryofwords。 Iapproachedthegrave。Thecoffinwasplacedontheground。Onit wereinscribedthenameandageofthedeceased—\"GeorgeSomers， aged26years。\"Thepoormotherhadbeenassistedtokneeldownatthe headofit。Herwitheredhandswereclasped，asifinprayer，butI couldperceivebyafeeblerockingofthebody，andaconvulsive motionofherlips，thatshewasgazingonthelastrelicsofherson， withtheyearningsofamother’sheart。 Preparationsweremadetodepositthecoffinintheearth。Therewas thatbustlingstirwhichbreakssoharshlyonthefeelingsofgrief andaffection；directionsgiveninthecoldtonesofbusiness：the strikingofspadesintosandandgravel；which，atthegraveof thosewelove，is，ofallsounds，themostwithering。Thebustle aroundseemedtowakenthemotherfromawretchedreverie。She raisedherglazedeyes，andlookedaboutwithafaintwildness。Asthe menapproachedwithcordstolowerthecoffinintothegrave，she wrungherhands，andbrokeintoanagonyofgrief。Thepoorwoman whoattendedhertookherbythearm，endeavoringtoraiseherfrom theearth，andtowhispersomethinglikeconsolation—\"Nay，now— nay，now—don’ttakeitsosorelytoheart。\"Shecouldonlyshake herheadandwringherhands，asonenottobecomforted。 Astheyloweredthebodyintotheearth，thecreakingofthecords seemedtoagonizeher；butwhen，onsomeaccidentalobstruction，there wasajustlingofthecoffin，allthetendernessofthemotherburst forth；asifanyharmcouldcometohimwhowasfarbeyondthereach ofworldlysuffering。 Icouldseenomore—myheartswelledintomythroat—myeyesfilled withtears—IfeltasifIwereactingabarbarouspartinstanding by，andgazingidlyonthissceneofmaternalanguish。Iwanderedto anotherpartofthechurch—yard，whereIremaineduntilthefuneral trainhaddispersed。 WhenIsawthemotherslowlyandpainfullyquittingthegrave， leavingbehindhertheremainsofallthatwasdeartoheronearth， andreturningtosilenceanddestitution，myheartachedforher。 What，thoughtI，arethedistressesoftherich！theyhavefriends tosoothe—pleasurestobeguile—aworldtodivertanddissipatetheir griefs。Whatarethesorrowsoftheyoung！Theirgrowingmindssoon closeabovethewound—theirelasticspiritssoonrisebeneaththe pressure—theirgreenandductileaffectionssoontwineroundnew objects。Butthesorrowsofthepoor，whohavenooutwardappliances tosoothe—thesorrowsoftheaged，withwhomlifeatbestisbuta wintryday，andwhocanlookfornoafter—growthofjoy—thesorrows ofawidow，aged，solitary，destitute，mourningoveranonlyson， thelastsolaceofheryears；theseareindeedsorrowswhichmakeus feeltheimpotencyofconsolation。 ItwassometimebeforeIleftthechurch—yard。OnmywayhomewardI metwiththewomanwhohadactedascomforter：shewasjust returningfromaccompanyingthemothertoherlonelyhabitation，andI drewfromhersomeparticularsconnectedwiththeaffectingsceneI hadwitnessed。 Theparentsofthedeceasedhadresidedinthevillagefrom childhood。Theyhadinhabitedoneoftheneatestcottages，andby variousruraloccupations，andtheassistanceofasmallgarden，had supportedthemselvescreditablyandcomfortably，andledahappyanda blamelesslife。Theyhadoneson，whohadgrownuptobethestaffand prideoftheirage。—\"Oh，sir！\"saidthegoodwoman，\"hewassucha comelylad，sosweet—tempered，sokindtoeveryonearoundhim，so dutifultohisparents！Itdidone’sheartgoodtoseehimofa Sunday，dressedoutinhisbest，sotall，sostraight，socheery， supportinghisoldmothertochurch—forshewasalwaysfonderof leaningonGeorge’sarm，thanonhergoodman’s；and，poorsoul，she mightwellbeproudofhim，forafinerladtherewasnotinthe countryround。\" Unfortunately，thesonwastempted，duringayearofscarcityand agriculturalhardship，toenterintotheserviceofoneofthesmall craftthatpliedonaneighboringriver。Hehadnotbeenlongin thisemploywhenhewasentrappedbyapress—gang，andcarriedoff tosea。Hisparentsreceivedtidingsofhisseizure，butbeyondthat theycouldlearnnothing。Itwasthelossoftheirmainprop。The father，whowasalreadyinfirm，grewheartlessandmelancholy，and sunkintohisgrave。Thewidow，leftlonelyinherageandfeebleness， couldnolongersupportherself，andcameupontheparish。Stillthere wasakindfeelingtowardherthroughoutthevillage，andacertain respectasbeingoneoftheoldestinhabitants。Asnooneapplied forthecottage，inwhichshehadpassedsomanyhappydays，shewas permittedtoremaininit，whereshelivedsolitaryandalmost helpless。Thefewwantsofnaturewerechieflysuppliedfromthe scantyproductionsofherlittlegarden，whichtheneighborswouldnow andthencultivateforher。Itwasbutafewdaysbeforethetimeat whichthesecircumstancesweretoldme，thatshewasgatheringsome vegetablesforherrepast，whensheheardthecottagedoorwhichfaced thegardensuddenlyopened。Astrangercameout，andseemedtobe lookingeagerlyandwildlyaround。Hewasdressedinseaman’sclothes， wasemaciatedandghastlypale，andboretheairofonebrokenby sicknessandhardships。Hesawher，andhastenedtowardsher，but hisstepswerefaintandfaltering；hesankonhiskneesbeforeher， andsobbedlikeachild。Thepoorwomangazeduponhimwithavacant andwanderingeye—\"Oh，mydear，dearmother！don’tyouknowyourson？ yourpoorboy，George？\"Itwasindeedthewreckofheroncenoblelad， who，shatteredbywounds，bysicknessandforeignimprisonment，had， atlength，draggedhiswastedlimbshomeward，toreposeamongthe scenesofhischildhood。 Iwillnotattempttodetailtheparticularsofsuchameeting， wherejoyandsorrowweresocompletelyblended：stillhewasalive！ hewascomehome！hemightyetlivetocomfortandcherishherold age！Nature，however，wasexhaustedinhim；andifanythinghad beenwantingtofinishtheworkoffate，thedesolationofhis nativecottagewouldhavebeensufficient。Hestretchedhimselfonthe palletonwhichhiswidowedmotherhadpassedmanyasleepless night，andheneverrosefromitagain。 Thevillagers，whentheyheardthatGeorgeSomershadreturned， crowdedtoseehim，offeringeverycomfortandassistancethattheir humblemeansafforded。Hewastooweak，however，totalk—hecould onlylookhisthanks。Hismotherwashisconstantattendant；andhe seemedunwillingtobehelpedbyanyotherhand。 Thereissomethinginsicknessthatbreaksdowntheprideof manhood；thatsoftenstheheart，andbringsitbacktothefeelingsof infancy。Whothathaslanguished，eveninadvancedlife，insickness anddespondency；whothathaspinedonawearybedintheneglect andlonelinessofaforeignland；buthasthoughtonthemother \"thatlookedonhischildhood，\"thatsmoothedhispillow，and administeredtohishelplessness？Oh！thereisanenduring tendernessintheloveofamothertohersonthattranscendsall otheraffectionsoftheheart。Itisneithertobechilledby selfishness，nordauntedbydanger，norweakenedbyworthlessness，nor stifledbyingratitude。Shewillsacrificeeverycomforttohis convenience；shewillsurrendereverypleasuretohisenjoyment；she willgloryinhisfame，andexultinhisprosperity：—and，if misfortuneovertakehim，hewillbethedearertoherfrommisfortune； andifdisgracesettleuponhisname，shewillstillloveand cherishhiminspiteofhisdisgrace；andifalltheworldbesidecast himoff，shewillbealltheworldtohim。 PoorGeorgeSomershadknownwhatitwastobeinsickness，andnone tosoothe—lonelyandinprison，andnonetovisithim。Hecouldnot endurehismotherfromhissight；ifshemovedaway，hiseyewould followher。Shewouldsitforhoursbyhisbed，watchinghimashe slept。Sometimeshewouldstartfromafeverishdream，andlook anxiouslyupuntilhesawherbendingoverhim；whenhewouldtakeher hand，layitonhisbosom，andfallasleep，withthetranquillityofa child。Inthiswayhedied。 Myfirstimpulseonhearingthishumbletaleofafflictionwasto visitthecottageofthemourner，andadministerpecuniaryassistance， and，ifpossible，comfort。Ifound，however，oninquiry，thatthegood feelingsofthevillagershadpromptedthemtodoeverythingthatthe caseadmitted：andasthepoorknowbesthowtoconsoleeachother’s sorrows，Ididnotventuretointrude。 ThenextSundayIwasatthevillagechurch；when，tomysurprise，I sawthepooroldwomantotteringdowntheaisletoheraccustomedseat onthestepsofthealtar。 Shehadmadeanefforttoputonsomethinglikemourningforher son；andnothingcouldbemoretouchingthanthisstrugglebetween piousaffectionandutterpoverty：ablackribbonorso—afadedblack handkerchief，andoneortwomoresuchhumbleattemptstoexpressby outwardsignsthatgriefwhichpassesshow。WhenIlookedroundupon thestoriedmonuments，thestatelyhatchments，thecoldmarblepomp， withwhichgrandeurmournedmagnificentlyoverdepartedpride，and turnedtothispoorwidow，boweddownbyageandsorrow，atthe altarofherGod，andofferinguptheprayersandpraisesofa pious，thoughabrokenheart，Ifeltthatthislivingmonumentofreal griefwasworththemall。 Irelatedherstorytosomeofthewealthymembersofthe congregation，andtheyweremovedbyit。Theyexertedthemselvesto renderhersituationmorecomfortable，andtolightenherafflictions。 Itwas，however，butsmoothingafewstepstothegrave。Inthecourse ofaSundayortwoafter，shewasmissedfromherusualseatat church，andbeforeIlefttheneighborhood，Iheard，withafeelingof satisfaction，thatshehadquietlybreathedherlast，andhadgone torejointhosesheloved，inthatworldwheresorrowisnever known，andfriendsareneverparted。 THEEND。 1819—20 THESKETCHBOOK THEWIFE byWashingtonIrving Thetreasuresofthedeeparenotsoprecious Asaretheconceal’dcomfortsofaman Lockedupinwoman’slove。Iscenttheair Ofblessings，whenIcomebutnearthehouse。 Whatadeliciousbreathmarriagesendsforth…… Thevioletbed’snotsweeter。 MIDDLETON。 IHAVEoftenhadoccasiontoremarkthefortitudewithwhichwomen sustainthemostoverwhelmingreversesoffortune。Thosedisasters whichbreakdownthespiritofaman，andprostratehiminthedust， seemtocallforthalltheenergiesofthesoftersex，andgivesuch intrepidityandelevationtotheircharacter，thatattimesit approachestosublimity。Nothingcanbemoretouchingthantobeholda softandtenderfemale，whohadbeenallweaknessanddependence， andalivetoeverytrivialroughness，whiletreadingtheprosperous pathsoflife，suddenlyrisinginmentalforcetobethecomforterand supportofherhusbandundermisfortune，andabiding，withunshrinking firmness，thebitterestblastsofadversity。 Asthevine，whichhaslongtwineditsgracefulfoliageaboutthe oak，andbeenliftedbyitintosunshine，will，whenthehardyplant isriftedbythethunderbolt，clingrounditwithitscaressing tendrils，andbindupitsshatteredboughs；soisitbeautifully orderedbyProvidence，thatwoman，whoisthemeredependentand ornamentofmaninhishappierhours，shouldbehisstayandsolace whensmittenwithsuddencalamity；windingherselfintotherugged recessesofhisnature，tenderlysupportingthedroopinghead，and bindingupthebrokenheart。 Iwasoncecongratulatingafriend，whohadaroundhimablooming family，knittogetherinthestrongestaffection。\"Icanwishyouno betterlot，\"saidhe，withenthusiasm，\"thantohaveawifeand children。Ifyouareprosperous，theretheyaretoshareyour prosperity；ifotherwise，theretheyaretocomfortyou。\"And，indeed， Ihaveobservedthatamarriedmanfallingintomisfortuneismoreapt toretrievehissituationintheworldthanasingleone；partly becauseheismorestimulatedtoexertionbythenecessitiesofthe helplessandbelovedbeingswhodependuponhimforsubsistence；but chieflybecausehisspiritsaresoothedandrelievedbydomestic endearments，andhisself—respectkeptalivebyfinding，thatthough allabroadisdarknessandhumiliation，yetthereisstillalittle worldofloveathome，ofwhichheisthemonarch。Whereasasingle manisapttoruntowasteandself—neglect；tofancyhimselflonely andabandoned，andhishearttofalltoruinlikesomedeserted mansion，forwantofaninhabitant。 Theseobservationscalltomindalittledomesticstory，ofwhich Iwasonceawitness。Myintimatefriend，Leslie，hadmarrieda beautifulandaccomplishedgirl，whohadbeenbroughtupinthe midstoffashionablelife。Shehad，itistrue，nofortune，butthat ofmyfriendwasample；andhedelightedintheanticipationof indulgingherineveryelegantpursuit，andadministeringtothose delicatetastesandfanciesthatspreadakindofwitcheryaboutthe sex。—\"Herlife，\"saidhe，\"shallbelikeafairytale。\" Theverydifferenceintheircharactersproducedanharmonious combination：hewasofaromanticandsomewhatseriouscast；shewas alllifeandgladness。Ihaveoftennoticedthemuterapturewith whichhewouldgazeuponherincompany，ofwhichhersprightlypowers madeherthedelight；andhow，inthemidstofapplause，hereyewould stillturntohim，asiftherealoneshesoughtfavorand acceptance。Whenleaningonhisarm，herslenderformcontrasted finelywithhistallmanlyperson。Thefondconfidingairwithwhich shelookeduptohimseemedtocallforthaflushoftriumphant prideandcherishingtenderness，asifhedotedonhislovelyburden foritsveryhelplessness。Neverdidacouplesetforwardonthe flowerypathofearlyandwell—suitedmarriagewithafairer prospectoffelicity。 Itwasthemisfortuneofmyfriend，however，tohaveembarkedhis propertyinlargespeculations；andhehadnotbeenmarriedmany months，when，byasuccessionofsuddendisasters，itwassweptfrom him，andhefoundhimselfreducedalmosttopenury。Foratimehekept hissituationtohimself，andwentaboutwithahaggardcountenance， andabreakingheart。Hislifewasbutaprotractedagony；andwhat rendereditmoreinsupportablewasthenecessityofkeepingupasmile inthepresenceofhiswife；forhecouldnotbringhimselfto overwhelmherwiththenews。Shesaw，however，withthequickeyes ofaffection，thatallwasnotwellwithhim。Shemarkedhisaltered looksandstifledsighs，andwasnottobedeceivedbyhissickly andvapidattemptsatcheerfulness。Shetaskedallhersprightly powersandtenderblandishmentstowinhimbacktohappiness；but sheonlydrovethearrowdeeperintohissoul。Themorehesawcause toloveher，themoretorturingwasthethoughtthathewassoonto makeherwretched。Alittlewhile，thoughthe，andthesmilewill vanishfromthatcheek—thesongwilldieawayfromthoselips—the lustreofthoseeyeswillbequenchedwithsorrow；andthehappy heart，whichnowbeatslightlyinthatbosom，willbeweigheddown likemine，bythecaresandmiseriesoftheworld。 Atlengthhecametomeoneday，andrelatedhiswholesituation inatoneofthedeepestdespair。WhenIheardhimthroughIinquired， \"Doesyourwifeknowallthis？\"—Atthequestionheburstintoan agonyoftears。\"ForGod’ssake！\"criedhe，\"ifyouhaveanypityon me，don’tmentionmywife；itisthethoughtofherthatdrivesme almosttomadness！\" \"Andwhynot？\"saidI。\"Shemustknowitsoonerorlater：youcannot keepitlongfromher，andtheintelligencemaybreakuponherina morestartlingmanner，thanifimpartedbyyourself；fortheaccents ofthosewelovesoftentheharshesttidings。Besides，youare deprivingyourselfofthecomfortsofhersympathy；andnotmerely that，butalsoendangeringtheonlybondthatcankeephearts together—anunreservedcommunityofthoughtandfeeling。Shewill soonperceivethatsomethingissecretlypreyinguponyourmind；and truelovewillnotbrookreserve；itfeelsundervaluedandoutraged， wheneventhesorrowsofthoseitlovesareconcealedfromit。\" \"Oh，but，myfriend！tothinkwhatablowIamtogivetoallher futureprospects—howIamtostrikeherverysoultotheearth，by tellingherthatherhusbandisabeggar！thatsheistoforegoall theeleganciesoflife—allthepleasuresofsociety—toshrinkwith meintoindigenceandobscurity！TotellherthatIhavedraggedher downfromthesphereinwhichshemighthavecontinuedtomovein constantbrightness—thelightofeveryeye—theadmirationofevery heart！—Howcanshebearpoverty？shehasbeenbroughtupinallthe refinementsofopulence。Howcanshebearneglect？shehasbeenthe idolofsociety。Oh！itwillbreakherheart—itwillbreakher heart！—\" Isawhisgriefwaseloquent，andIletithaveitsflow；forsorrow relievesitselfbywords。Whenhisparoxysmhadsubsided，andhehad relapsedintomoodysilence，Iresumedthesubjectgently，andurged himtobreakhissituationatoncetohiswife。Heshookhishead mournfully，butpositively。 \"Buthowareyoutokeepitfromher？Itisnecessarysheshould knowit，thatyoumaytakethestepspropertothealterationof yourcircumstances。Youmustchangeyourstyleofliving—nay，\" observingapangtopassacrosshiscountenance，\"don’tletthat afflictyou。Iamsureyouhaveneverplacedyourhappinessinoutward show—youhaveyetfriends，warmfriends，whowillnotthinktheworse ofyouforbeinglesssplendidlylodged：andsurelyitdoesnot requireapalacetobehappywithMary—\" \"Icouldbehappywithher，\"criedhe，convulsively，\"inahovel！—I couldgodownwithherintopovertyandthedust！—Icould—Icould— Godblessher！—Godblessher！\"criedhe，burstingintoatransportof griefandtenderness。