bundance, and perhaps," he added, looking slyly over
to the stove where some bread-soup was in preparation for their very
temperate repast, "some better fare for dinner. But," he continued in a
tone of humorous banter, which he frequently adopted, and pushing back
his chair a few paces as he spoke, "while you superintend the household
concerns, and give the necessary orders to the cook, I will withdraw
into my study. Now, what would I not write if only pen, paper, and ink,
were to be got at; and how studiously would I read if but a book could
be procured."

"You must _think_, dearest," said Clara waggishly; "the stock of
thoughts, it is to be hoped, is not quite so low as our wood."

"Dearest wife," he replied, "the cares of our establishment demand all
your attention; let me proceed undisturbed with my studies. I will
read," he continued, speaking as if to himself, "the journal I formerly
kept in our palmy days of stationery. And it strikes me that it would be
particularly profitable to study it backwards; to begin at the end, and
so lay a proper foundation for a full comprehension of the beginning.
All true wisdom goes in a circle, and is typified by a serpent biting at
its own tail. We will begin this time at the tail."

Opening his journal at the last page, he began to read in the same
subdued tone--"They tell a tale of a raving criminal, who, being
condemned to death by starvation, ate himself gradually up. This is, in
fact, the story of life, and of all of us. In some there remains nothing
but the stomach and the mouth. With us there is left the soul, which is
expressly said to be inconsumable. So far as externals are concerned, I
have certainly flayed and devoured myself. That I should, up to this
day, have retained a certain dress-coat--I, who never go out--was
perfectly ridiculous. Mem.--Next birthday of my wife to appear before
her in a waist-coat and shirt sleeves, as it would be highly indecorous
to present myself to a person of her rank in a frock-coat somewhat
overworn."

Here he came to the end both of the page and the book. Turning back, he
commenced at the page immediately preceding--"One can live very well
without napkins. And now I think of it, what are these miserable napkins
but a niggardly expedient for saving the table-cloth? Nay, what is this
table-cloth itself but a base economy for sparing the table! I pronounce
them both to be mere superfluities; both shall be sold, that we may eat
off the