f her position, so much must be in
truth admitted. Though from day to day and hour to hour she would
openly declare her hatred of the things around her,--yet she went on.
Since she had entered upon life she had known nothing but falsehood
and scheming wickedness;--and, though she rebelled against the
consequences, she had not rebelled against the wickedness. Now to
this unfortunate young woman and her two companions, Mr. Emilius
discoursed with an unctuous mixture of celestial and terrestrial
glorification, which was proof, at any rate, of great ability on his
part. He told them how a good wife was a crown, or rather a chaplet
of aetherial roses to her husband, and how high rank and great
station in the world made such a chaplet more beautiful and more
valuable. His work in the vineyard, he said, had fallen lately among
the wealthy and nobly born; and though he would not say that he was
entitled to take glory on that account, still he gave thanks daily in
that he had been enabled to give his humble assistance towards the
running of a godly life to those who, by their example, were enabled
to have so wide an effect upon their poorer fellow-creatures. He
knew well how difficult it was for a camel to go through the eye
of a needle. They had the highest possible authority for that. But
Scripture never said that the camel,--which, as he explained it, was
simply a thread larger than ordinary thread,--could not go through
the needle's eye. The camel which succeeded, in spite of the
difficulties attending its exalted position, would be peculiarly
blessed. And he went on to suggest that the three ladies before him,
one of whom was about to enter upon a new phase of life to-morrow,
under auspices peculiarly propitious, were, all of them, camels of
this description. Sir Griffin, when he came in, received for a while
the peculiar attention of Mr. Emilius. "I think, Sir Griffin," he
commenced, "that no period of a man's life is so blessed, as that
upon which you will enter to-morrow." This he said in a whisper, but
it was a whisper audible to the ladies.

"Well;--yes; it's all right, I daresay," said Sir Griffin.

"Well, after all, what is life till a man has met and obtained the
partner of his soul? It is a blank,--and the blank becomes every day
more and more intolerable to the miserable solitary."

"I wonder you don't get married yourself," said Mrs. Carbuncle, who
perceived that Sir Griffin was rather astray for an answer.