ld I have seen him go forth to his daily duties, sure that he was
imparting and receiving good. With what rapture would I have welcomed
his returning footstep!

Oh! had he been a _poor_ man, he would have been a _great_ man. He was
not obliged to toil, either physically or mentally; and indolence is
born of luxury, and morbid sensibility luxuriates in the lap of
indolence. Forms of beauty and grandeur wait in the marble quarry for
the hand of genius and skill. Ingots of gold sleep in the mine, till the
explorer fathoms its depths and brings to light the hidden treasures.
Labor is the slave of the lamp of life, who alone keeps its flame from
waxing dim. When a child, I looked upon poverty as man's greatest curse;
but I now thought differently. To feel that every wish is gratified,
every want supplied, is almost as dreary as to indulge the wish, and
experience the want, without the means of satisfying the cravings of one
or the urgency of the other.

Had Ernest been a poor man, he would not have had time to think
unceasingly of me. His mind would have been occupied with sterner
thoughts and more exalted cares. But rich as he was, I longed to see him
live for something nobler than personal enjoyment, to know that he
possessed a higher aim than love for me. I did not feel worthy to fill
the capacities of that noble heart. I wanted him to love me less, that I
might have something more to desire.

"Of what are you thinking so deeply, sweet wife?" he asked, when I had
been unconsciously indulging in a long, deep reverie. "What great
subject knits so severely that fair young brow?" he repeated, sitting by
me, and taking my hand in his.

I blushed, for my thoughts were making bold excursions.

"I was thinking," I answered, looking bravely in his face, "what a
blessed thing it must be to do good, to have the will as well as the
power to bless mankind."

"Tell me what scheme of benevolence my little philanthropist is forming.
What mighty engine would she set in motion to benefit her species?"

"I was thinking how happy a person must feel, who was able to establish
an asylum for the blind or the insane, a hospital for the sick, or a
home for the orphan. I was thinking how delightful it would be to go out
into the byways of poverty, the abodes of sickness and want, and bid
their inmates follow me, where comfort and ease and plenty awaited them.
I was thinking, if I were a man, how I would love to be called the
friend and ben