e on the face of God's earth. A man who
could not be happy with her would not deserve felicity. You should see
her at the breakfast-table, in a snow-white dress, with just a purple
band about her dainty waist, handling the cups and saucers! The first
time she asked me whether I would take two lumps of sugar (I could have
taken both of them from her pretty lips, and I'll not say whether I did
or did not), was one of those delicious moments that happen seldom,
alas, in the chequered life of man. And then, when she comes tripping
into the room after breakfast, in her little round hat, and, putting
her hand upon my shoulder, asks me in the most musical of voices whether
I have finished with my paper, and am ready for a walk, I feel ashamed
that I have allowed myself to distract my attention even for ten minutes
from her charming self, to read stupid leading articles and wretched
police cases. But men are utterly without sentiment. Reading the _Times_
in the honeymoon! I wonder how the delightful creatures can give us two
minutes' thought. Carrie, however, seems to live only for your unworthy
humble servant. Shall I ever be worthy of her? Shall I ever be worthy of
the glorious sky overhead, or of the flowers at my feet? My dear Mac, I
feel the veriest worm as I contemplate this perfect creature, who, with
that infinite generosity which belongs to goodness and beauty, has sworn
to love, honour, and obey me. That she loves me I know full well; that
she obeys my lightest wish, I allow, on my knees. But how shall she
honour me? To all this you will answer, puffing your filthy pipe the
while, 'Tut! he has been married only ten short days!"

"My dear Mac, life is not to be measured by the hour-glass. There are
minutes that are hours, there are hours that are years, there are years
that are centuries. Again, some men are observant, and some pay no
better compliment to the light of day than moles. You did me the honour
of saying one evening, when we were having a late cigar at the Trafalgar
(we should have been in bed hours before), that you never knew a more
quick-sighted man, nor a readier reader of the human heart than the
individual who now addresses you. It would ill become me to say that you
only did me justice; but permit me to remark, that having closely
watched myself and compared myself with others, for years, I have come
to the conclusion that I am blessed with a rapid discernment. Before
Mrs. Flowerdew (I have written the