the soul of
the first Alice looked out at her eyes with such a reality of
representment, that I became in doubt which of them stood there before
me, or whose that bright hair was; and while I stood gazing, both the
children gradually grew fainter to my view, receding, and still
receding, till nothing at last but two mournful features were seen in
the uttermost distance, which, without speech, strangely imprest upon
me the effects of speech: "We are not of Alice, nor of thee; nor are
we children at all. The children of Alice call Bartrum father. We are
nothing, less than nothing, and dreams. We are only what might have
been, and must wait upon the tedious shores of Lethe millions of ages
before we have existence and a name"; and immediately awaking, I found
myself quietly seated in my bachelor arm-chair, where I had fallen
asleep, with the faithful Bridget unchanged by my side--but John L.
(or James Elia) was gone forever.

II

POOR RELATIONS[22]

A poor relation is the most irrelevant thing in nature, a piece of
impertinent correspondency, an odious approximation, a haunting
conscience, a preposterous shadow, lengthening in the noontide of your
prosperity, an unwelcome remembrancer, a perpetually recurring
mortification, a drain on your purse, a more intolerable dun upon your
pride, a drawback upon success, a rebuke to your rising, a stain in
your blood, a blot on your scutcheon, a rent in your garment, a
death's-head at your banquet, Agathocles' pot, a Mordecai in your
gate, a Lazarus at your door, a lion in your path, a frog in your
chamber, a fly in your ointment, a mote in your eye, a triumph to your
enemy, an apology to your friends, the one thing not needful, the hail
in harvest, the ounce of sour in a pound of sweet.

He is known by his knock. Your heart telleth you, "That is Mr. ----."
A rap between familiarity and respect, that demands, and at the same
time seems to despair of entertainment. He entereth smiling and
embarrassed. He holdeth out his hand to you to shake, and draweth it
back again. He casually looketh in about dinnertime, when the table is
full. He offereth to go away, seeing you have company, but is induced
to stay. He filleth a chair, and your visitor's two children are
accommodated at a side-table.

He never cometh upon open days, when your wife says with some
complacency: "My dear, perhaps Mr. ---- will drop in to-day." He
remembereth birthdays, and professeth he is fortunate to