house was
given up, because, though agreeably situated, it was too
high-rented,--one was too much in the heart of the town, another was too
far from business. These minutiae will seem impertinent to the aged and
the prudent. I write them only to the young. Young lovers, and
passionate as being young, (such were Cleora and I then,) alone can
understand me. After some weeks wasted, as I may now call it, in this
sort of amorous colloquy, we at length fixed upon the house in the High
Street, No. 203, just vacated by the death of Mr. Hutton of this town,
for our future residence. I had till that time lived in lodgings (only
renting a shop for business) to be near to my mother,--near, I say: not
in the same house with her, for that would have been to introduce
confusion into our housekeeping, which it was desirable to keep
separate. Oh, the loving wrangles, the endearing differences I had with
Cleora, before we could quite make up our minds to the house that was to
receive us!--I pretending, for argument's sake, that the rent was too
high, and she insisting that the taxes were moderate in proportion, and
love at last reconciling us in the same choice. I think at that time,
moderately speaking, she might have had anything out of me for asking. I
do not, nor shall ever, regret that my character at that time was marked
with a tinge of prodigality. Age comes fast enough upon us, and, in its
good time, will prune away all that is inconvenient in these excesses.
Perhaps it is right that it should do so. Matters, as I said, were
ripening to a conclusion between us, only the house was yet not
absolutely taken. Some necessary arrangements, which the ardor of my
youthful impetuosity could hardly brook at that time (love and youth
will be precipitate)--some preliminary arrangements, I say, with the
landlord, respecting fixtures,--very necessary things to be considered
in a young man about to settle in the world, though not very accordant
with the impatient state of my then passions,--some obstacles about the
valuation of the fixtures,--had hitherto precluded (and I shall always
think providentially) my final closes with his offer, when one of those
accidents, which, unimportant in themselves, often arise to give a turn
to the most serious intentions of our life, intervened, and put an end
at once to my projects of wiving and of housekeeping.

I was never much given to theatrical entertainments,--that is, at no
time of my life was I ever