'
'So gracefully sweet-tempered; so domestic, joyful, busy, and
light-hearted!' said the Voice.
'Otherwise I never could have loved her as I did,' returned the
Carrier.
The Voice, correcting him, said 'do.'
The Carrier repeated 'as I did.' But not firmly. His faltering
tongue resisted his control, and would speak in its own way, for
itself and him.
The Figure, in an attitude of invocation, raised its hand and said:
'Upon your own hearth--'
'The hearth she has blighted,' interposed the Carrier.
'The hearth she has--how often!--blessed and brightened,' said the
Cricket; 'the hearth which, but for her, were only a few stones and
bricks and rusty bars, but which has been, through her, the Altar
of your Home; on which you have nightly sacrificed some petty
passion, selfishness, or care, and offered up the homage of a
tranquil mind, a trusting nature, and an overflowing heart; so that
the smoke from this poor chimney has gone upward with a better
fragrance than the richest incense that is burnt before the richest
shrines in all the gaudy temples of this world!--Upon your own
hearth; in its quiet sanctuary; surrounded by its gentle influences
and associations; hear her! Hear me! Hear everything that speaks
the language of your hearth and home!'
'And pleads for her?' inquired the Carrier.
Pages:
94
95
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
103
104
105
106
107
108
109
110
111
112
113
114
115
116
117
118