g opposite, a
grave, respectable being, eating muffins. But I saw only a bank-bill,
more or less crumpled and tattered, marked with a larger or lesser
figure. If a sharp wind blew suddenly, I saw it tremble and flutter;
it was thin, flat, impalpable. I removed my glasses, and looked with
my eyes at the wife. I could have smiled to see the humid tenderness
with which she regarded her strange _vis-a-vis_. Is life only a game
of blind-man's-buff? of droll cross-purposes?

"Or I put them on again, and looked at the wife. How many stout trees
I saw,--how many tender flowers,--how many placid pools; yes, and how
many little streams winding out of sight, shrinking before the large,
hard, round eyes opposite, and slipping off into solitude and shade,
with a low, inner song for their own solace. And in many houses I
thought to see angels, nymphs, or at least, women, and could only find
broomsticks, mops, or kettles, hurrying about, rattling, tinkling, in
a state of shrill activity. I made calls upon elegant ladies, and
after I had enjoyed the gloss of silk and the delicacy of lace, and
the flash of jewels, I slipped on my spectacles, and saw a peacock's
feather, flounced and furbelowed and fluttering; or an iron rod, thin,
sharp, and hard; nor could I possibly mistake the movement of the
drapery for any flexibility of the thing draped,--or, mysteriously
chilled, I saw a statue of perfect form, or flowing movement, it might
be alabaster, or bronze, or marble,--but sadly often it was ice; and I
knew that after it had shone a little, and frozen a few eyes with its
despairing perfection, it could not be put away in the niches of
palaces for ornament and proud family tradition, like the alabaster,
or bronze, or marble statues, but would melt, and shrink, and fall
coldly away in colorless and useless water, be absorbed in the earth
and utterly forgotten.

"But the true sadness was rather in seeing those who, not having the
spectacles, thought that the iron rod was flexible, and the ice statue
warm. I saw many a gallant heart, which seemed to me brave and loyal
as the crusaders sent by genuine and noble faith to Syria and the
sepulchre, pursuing, through days and nights, and a long life of
devotion, the hope of lighting at least a smile in the cold eyes, if
not a fire in the icy heart. I watched the earnest, enthusiastic
sacrifice. I saw the pure resolve, the generous faith, the fine scorn
of doubt, the impatience of suspicion. I wat