1832.] The Procrastmator. 91 



was not accomplished, there was, nevertheless,, a greater bustle than 

 if ten times as much had been actually done. 



The night waned on it was clear,, cold, and frosty ; the candles ap- 

 proached the sockets of the rich old silver candelabres, that stood in 

 solitary dignity at either corner of the dining-chamber, contrasting 

 strangely in their brightness with .the worn damask, which was still 

 agitated by the north winds blustering through the broken panes, that 

 Morty had not yet stopped up, though he toiled, and hammered, and 

 pasted, with indefatigable industry. At the opposite end of the room 

 rose a huge black marble chimney-piece, and, from beneath its dis- 

 tended arch, a fire, of mingled wood and turf, threw the dense and 

 towering mass into strong shade ; as it gloomed heavily over the blazing 

 embers, a little imagination might induce the belief that it was a deep 

 cavern, in whose interior sheltered a burning crater so hot, and darkly 

 red streamed the fire from within. There was a strange blending of poverty 

 and profusion in the garniture of the table the plate was rich, the 

 linen poor, all that belonged to the olden time told of prosperity but 

 it was the prosperity of the past century ; all that was modern was mean, 

 and shewed that the careful eye and hand of a mistress had been long 

 wanting. To be sure, the abode of a bachelor, even in modern times, 

 is comfortless enough. Tables, and chairs, and carpets, and curtains, 

 there certainly are, but that is all none of those little elegancies, those 

 sweet and tasteful solacers of existence, those Penates of household life, 

 which vary and embellish domestic did I say domestic ? poor, miser- 

 able mortals ! I should have remembered all you can know of that 

 sweet word is its sound itsjeelitig is far from ye ; though ye be clothed 

 in purple and fine linen, and fare sumptuously every day, yet are there 

 none to whom you can praise, even the beauty and fragrance of a 

 flower, with the consciousness that one heart echoes not only your 

 words, but your feelings. 



One would have thought that Morty had some undefined notion of 

 the sort, and of the necessity there was " to make things more comfort- 

 able" when a lady was expected, by his wandering from place to place, 

 now wafering a slip of brown paper on a " slit" in the window-frame, then 

 casting an eye for the twentieth time over the table, to see that, accord- 

 ing to his ideas of propriety, nothing was wanting. He had drawn two 

 arm-chairs under the shadow of the chimney, and placed a small 

 inlaid table, that had belonged to his former mistress, between them, 

 thinking, to repeat his muttered phrase, "that it would be handy for 

 masther's tumbler, out of the could," and again repaired to the window, 

 to reduce an obstinate board to obedience, which the wind had blown 

 into open rebellion. When he had at length succeeded, he seated 

 himself on the expansive window-seat, which overlooked the court-yard ; 

 and presently he saw, distinctly, in the moonlight, the figure of his 

 master's old nurse, Milly Eldred, creeping along the wall, and stooping 

 every now and then to cull some particular flower or plant that struck 

 her fancy. His former lady was a native of Scotland, and much dis- 

 content had been expressed by the dwellers in Castle Mount Doyne at 

 her importing a Scottish nurse to attend on the only child she ever had. 

 Notwithstanding this, Milly remained at the castle ; and in her age and 

 feebleness was paid much attention. It might be more from fear than 

 love, for divers things were whispered relative to her skill in various ways, 

 which blanched many a rosy cheek in the adjoining village. She was, in 



