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。