MORAL USE OF IORIES
November 13th, Nine Oclock P.M.
I had well stopped up the ks of my window; my little carpet wasnailed down in its place; my lamp, provided with its shade, cast asubdued light around, and my stove made a low, murmuring sound, as ifsome live creature was sharing my hearth with me.
All was silent around me. But, out of doors the snow and raiheroofs, and with a low, rushing sound ran along the gurgling gutters;sometimes a gust of wind forced itself beh the tiles, which rattledtogether like castas, and afterward it was lost in the empty corridor.
Then a slight and pleasurable shiver thrilled through my veins: I drewthe flaps of my old wadded dressing-gown around me, I pulled mythreadbare velvet cap over my eyes, and, letting myself sink deeper intomy easy-chair, while my feet basked in the heat and light which shohrough the door of the stove, I gave myself up to a sensation ofenjoyment, made more lively by the sciousness of the storm which ragedwithout. My eyes, swimming in a sort of mist, wandered over all thedetails of my peaceful abode; they passed from my prints to my bookcase,resting upotle tz sofa, the white curtains of the iroead, and the portfolio of loose papers--those archives of theattics; and theurning to the book I held in my hand, they attemptedto seize once more the thread of the reading which had been thusinterrupted.
In fact, this book, the subject of which had at first ied me, hadbee painful to me. I had e to the clusion that the pictures ofthe writer were too sombre. His description of the miseries of the worldappeared exaggerated to me; I could not believe in such excess of povertyand of suffering; her God nor man could show themselves so harshtoward the sons of Adam. The author had yielded to an artistictemptation: he was making a show of the sufferings of humanity, as Neroburned Rome for the sake of the picturesque.
Taken altogether, this poor human house, so often repaired, so muchcriticised, is still a pretty good abode; we may find enough in it tosatisfy our wants, if we know how to set bounds to them; the happiness ofthe wise man costs but little, and asks but little space.
These soling refles became more and more fused. At last mybook fell on the ground without my having the resolution to stoop andtake it up again; and insensibly overe by the luxury of the silehe subdued light, and the warmth, I fell asleep.
I remained for some time lost in the sort of insensibility belonging toa first sleep; at last some vague and brokeions came over me.
It seemed to me that the day grew darker, that the air became colder.
I half perceived bushes covered with the scarlet berries which foretellthe ing of winter. I walked on a dreary road, bordered here and therewith jurees white with frost. Then the se suddenly ged.
I was in the diligehe cold wind shook the doors and windows; thetrees, loaded with snow, passed by like ghosts; in vain I thrust mybenumbed feet into the crushed straw. At last the carriage stopped, and,by one of those stage effects so on in sleep, I found myself alone ina barn, without a fireplace, and open to the winds on all sides. I sawagain my mentle face, known only to me in my early childhood,the noble and stern tenany father, the little fair head of mysister, who was taken from us at ten years old; all my dead family livedagain arouhey were there, exposed to the bitings of the cold andto the pangs of hunger. My mother praye