81 



THE COFFIN MAKER. 



"The first few weeks of my employment passed pleasantly 

 enough; my master was satisfied with me, and on Sunday 

 evenings I was able occasionally to enjoy a walk. But my 

 spirits soon became less buoyant, and even my health began to 

 suffer ; I entirely lost the florid look which was ray poor mother's 

 admiration ; my very step grew slower, and there were Sundays 

 when I declined the evening walk, which had been my only 

 recreation, merely because the happy laugh and continued jests 

 of (my friend) Henry Richards annoyed and distressed me while 

 contrasted with my own heaviness of heart. Evening after 

 evening, sometimes through a whole dismal night, I worked at 

 my melancholy employment; and as my master was poor, and 

 employed no other journeyman, I worked most commonly alone. 

 Frequently as the heavy hammer descended, breaking at regular 

 intervals the peaceful silence of night, I recalled some scene of 

 sorrow and agony that I had witnessed in the day ; and as the 

 echo of some shriek or stifled moan struck in fancy on my ear, 

 I would pause to wipe the dew from my brow and curse the 

 trade of a cofiin maker. Every day some fresh cause appeared 

 to arise for loathing my occupation; whilst all were alike 

 strangers to me in the town where my master lived, I worked 

 cheerfully and wrote merrily home; but now that I began to 

 know every one, to be acquainted with the number of members 

 which composed different families, to hear of their sicknesses and 

 misfortunes ; now that link after link bound me as it were by a 

 spell, to feel for those round me, and to belong to them, my 

 cheerfulness was over. The mother turned her eyes from me 

 with a shuddering sigh, and gazed on the dear circle of little ones 

 as if she sought to penetrate futurity and guess which of the 

 young things, now rosy in health, was to follow her long lost and 

 still lamented one. The doting father pressed the arm of his 

 pale consumptive girl nearer to his heart, as he passed me : 

 friends who were yet sorrowing for their bereavement, gave up 

 the attempt at cheerfulness, and relapsed into melancholy silence 

 at my approach. If I attempted (as I often did at first) to 

 converse gaily with such of the townspeople as were of my 

 master's rank in life, I was checked by a bitter smile, or a sudden 

 sigh, which told me that while I was giving way to levity, the 

 thoughts of my hearers had wandered back to the heavy hours 

 when their houses were last darkened by the shadow of death. 



VOL. V. — 1835. L 



