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444 GOOD HUMOUR |
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dressed in his long, wide, black cloak, with his black-bordered three-cornered hat on his head—and then his face, exactly as the sun is drawn, round and jocund—it was difficult for them to think of the grave and of sorrow. The face said, ' It doesn't matter; it will be much better than one thinks.'
You see, I have inherited my good humour from him, and also the habit of going often to the churchyard, and that is an agreeable thing to do if it be done with good humour; and then I take in the Intelligencer, just as he used to do.
I am not quite young. I have neither wife, nor children, nor a library ; but, as aforesaid, I take in the Intelligencer, and that's my favourite newspaper, as it was also my father's. It is very useful, and contains everything that a man needs to know—such as who preaches in the church and in the new books ; where one can get houses, servants, clothes, and food ; who is selling off, and who is going off himself. And then what a lot of charity, and what a number of innocent, harmless verses are found in it! Advertisements for husbands and wives, and arrangements for meeting— all quite simple and natural. Certainly, one may live merrily and be contentedly buried if one takes in the Intelligencer. And then one has, by the end of his life, such a capital store of paper, that he may use it as a soft bed, unless he prefers to rest upon wood-shavings.
The newspaper and my walk to the churchyard were always my most exciting occupations—they were like bathing-places for my good humour.
The newspaper every one can read for himself. But please come with me to the churchyard ; let us wander there where the sun shines and the trees grow green, let us walk among the graves. Each of these is like a closed book, with the back placed uppermost, so that one can only read the title which tells what the book contains, and tells nothing more ; but I know something of them. I heard it from my father, or found it out myself. I have it all down in my record that I wrote out for my own use and pleasure : all that lie here, and a few more, too, are chronicled in it.
Now we are in the churchyard.
Here, behind this white railing, where once a rose tree |
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