be had for taking
them away. Furniture! Thank God, I can sit and I can stand without the
aid of a furniture warehouse. What man but a philosopher would not
be ashamed to see his furniture packed in a cart and going up country
exposed to the light of heaven and the eyes of men, a beggarly account
of empty boxes? That is Spaulding's furniture. I could never tell from
inspecting such a load whether it belonged to a so-called rich man or a
poor one; the owner always seemed poverty-stricken. Indeed, the more
you have of such things the poorer you are. Each load looks as if it
contained the contents of a dozen shanties; and if one shanty is poor,
this is a dozen times as poor. Pray, for what do we move ever but to
get rid of our furniture, our exuvioe: at last to go from this world to
another newly furnished, and leave this to be burned? It is the same as
if all these traps were buckled to a man's belt, and he could not
move over the rough country where our lines are cast without dragging
them--dragging his trap. He was a lucky fox that left his tail in the
trap. The muskrat will gnaw his third leg off to be free. No wonder man
has lost his elasticity. How often he is at a dead set! "Sir, if I may
be so bold, what do you mean by a dead set?" If you are a seer, whenever
you meet a man you will see all that he owns, ay, and much that he
pretends to disown, behind him, even to his kitchen furniture and all
the trumpery which he saves and will not burn, and he will appear to be
harnessed to it and making what headway he can. I think that the man
is at a dead set who has got through a knot-hole or gateway where his
sledge load of furniture cannot follow him. I cannot but feel compassion
when I hear some trig, compact-looking man, seemingly free, all girded
and ready, speak of his "furniture," as whether it is insured or not.
"But what shall I do with my furniture?"--My gay butterfly is entangled
in a spider's web then. Even those who seem for a long while not to
have any, if you inquire more narrowly you will find have some stored
in somebody's barn. I look upon England today as an old gentleman who is
travelling with a great deal of baggage, trumpery which has accumulated
from long housekeeping, which he has not the courage to burn; great
trunk, little trunk, bandbox, and bundle. Throw away the first three at
least. It would surpass the powers of a well man nowadays to take up his
bed and walk, and I should certainly advise a sick