OR. WITH BRAINS, SIR. 229 



health flushed his cheek and sparkled in his eyes. His 

 voice, usually so weak and thin, greeted me with loud and 

 hearty welcome. Overcome with joy, I went to meet him 

 and woke up to find the fire out and the cold, gray 

 light of a winter's morning streaming in at the window. 

 Peering out through the frosted panes, I saw a heavily 

 laden horse-car painfully toiling through the snowy street. 

 A few pedestrians, well wrapped up, were hurrying along 

 the sidewalk, trying to keep warm. The sky was the color 

 of lead, and the air was full of falling snow. Altogether, 

 it was a dreary scene. Going to my husband, I found him 

 still asleep. As I stood looking at him, I was struck by 

 the pinched and haggard expression of his face. It was 

 the face of a man starved for the want of fresh air and 

 sunshine. Presently he opened his eyes and smiled on 

 me ; but it only made me heart-sick to see it. It was a sad 

 and weary smile. 



But why prolong the story? For six long weeks I 

 hardly left him for a moment. The doctor came nearly 

 every day. My husband's employers called several times, 

 offered every kindness, and, in the spirit of true and honora- 

 ble merchants, continued his salary during his illness. At 

 last he was able to sit up, and could even sit by the window 

 for an hour or so, and amuse himself by looking on the 

 busy street. Yet he seemed very weary and listless all the 



