Our whole house was
exquisite, and became quite renowned for its elegance and charm.
Lydia's exuberant vitality was attractive: her relations and friends
liked to come there. Some of our friends were of the high, haughty,
tone-y sort, which would have been well enough if we had not incurred
debts in our housekeeping.
What and how great the merit and the art
To live on little with a thankful heart!
Lydia's rich uncle, Nathan Stene, gave us a bookcase that caused my
heart to sink with an appalling premonition at its first appearance, it
was so huge and high. How we got it into our parlor without cutting off
the top and bottom words cannot explain. That bookcase was my first
step toward ruin. I had a good many books--not of scientific but of
delightful literature, the best works of the best authors--and my books
were as shabby as Charles Lamb's library. There never were such
dilapidated volumes as my De Quinceys. Lydia had _Young Mrs. Jardine_
and lots of other
Stickjaw pudding that tires the chin,
With the marmalade spread ever so thin;
and her books were new-looking. She said mine looked disgustingly dirty
in our new bookcase, so I had them rebound; and this was my next step
toward ruin.
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