t for themselves. There is not always packing or unpacking to
do, nor can the scales be polished or paper bags be made continually;
and, failing these, people should devise other employment for
themselves. And that is just what old Anthony did; for he used to mend
his clothes and put pieces on his boots. When he at last sought his
couch, he used from habit to keep his nightcap on. He drew it down a
little closer; but soon he would push it up again, to see if the light
had been properly extinguished. He would touch it, press the wick
together, and then lie down on the other side, and draw his nightcap
down again; but then a doubt would come upon him, if every coal in the
little fire-pan below had been properly deadened and put out--a tiny
spark might have been left burning, and might set fire to something
and cause damage. And therefore he rose from his bed, and crept down
the ladder, for it could scarcely be called a stair. And when he came
to the fire-pan not a spark was to be discovered, and he might just go
back again. But often, when he had gone half of the way back, it would
occur to him that the shutters might not be securely fastened; yes,
then his thin legs must carry him downstairs once more. He was cold,
and his teeth chattered in his mouth when he crept back again to bed;
for the cold seems to become doubly severe when it knows it cannot
stay much longer. He drew up the coverlet closer around him, and
pulled down the nightcap lower over his brows, and turned his thoughts
away from trade and from the labours of the day. But that did not
procure him agreeable entertainment; for now old thoughts came and put
up their curtains, and these curtains have sometimes pins in them,
with which one pricks oneself, and one cries out "Oh!" and they prick
into one's flesh and burn so, that the tears sometimes come into one's
eyes; and that often happened to old Anthony--hot tears. The largest
pearls streamed forth, and fell on the coverlet or on the floor, and
then they sounded as if one of his heart-strings had broken. Sometimes
again they seemed to rise up in flame, illuminating a picture of life
that never faded out of his heart. If he then dried his eyes with his
nightcap, the tear and the picture were indeed crushed, but the source
of the tears remained, and welled up afresh from his heart. The
pictures did not come up in the order in which the scenes had occurred
in reality, for very often the most painful would come tog