480 MAN OF SCIENCE. 



Mrs Miller, however, was not alarmed. She felt 

 that her husband, in capacity of critic and reader, was 

 merely bringing out by sudden and skilful contrast the 

 range of Cowper's power, now archly droll, now sternly 

 tragical. He turned, last of all, to the Lines to Mary, 

 and, at certain of the verses, she could perceive half- 

 stolen glances at her over the page. 



1 Thy silver locks, once auburn bright, 

 Are still more lovely in my sight 

 Than golden beams of orient light, 

 My Mary ! 



' For could I view nor them nor thee, 

 What sight worth seeing could I see ? 

 The sun would rise in vain for me, 

 My Mary ! 



* Partakers of thy sad decline, 



Thy hands their little force resign ; 

 But, gently pressed, press gently mine, 

 My Mary ! 



4 Such feebleness of limb thou prov'st, 

 That now, at every step thou mov'st 

 Upheld by two, yet still thou lov'st, 

 My Mary ! 



* And still to love, though pressed with ill, 

 In wintry age to feel no chill, 



With me is to be lovely still, 



My Mary ! ' 



Early in the evening, as might have been expected 

 after that agitating day, Mrs Miller began to feel 

 weary. She went to the kitchen and gave particular 

 orders about his bath ; then, returning to the sitting- 

 room, she remarked to him that she was ' very, very 

 tired' and would be forced to leave him sooner than 

 usual. ' Now/ he said, ' that I am forbidden ale or 

 porter, don't you think that in future I might have a 

 cup of coffee before going to bed ? ' With some hesita- 

 tion she assented, and promised that the coffee should 



