He rests upon a little crutch, - I know it
too, - and leaning on it as he climbs my footstool, whispers in my
ear, 'I am hardly one of these, dear grandfather, although I love
them dearly. They are very kind to me, but you will be kinder
still, I know.'
I have my hand upon his neck, and stoop to kiss him, when my clock
strikes, my chair is in its old spot, and I am alone.
What if I be? What if this fireside be tenantless, save for the
presence of one weak old man? From my house-top I can look upon a
hundred homes, in every one of which these social companions are
matters of reality. In my daily walks I pass a thousand men whose
cares are all forgotten, whose labours are made light, whose dull
routine of work from day to day is cheered and brightened by their
glimpses of domestic joy at home. Amid the struggles of this
struggling town what cheerful sacrifices are made; what toil
endured with readiness; what patience shown and fortitude displayed
for the mere sake of home and its affections! Let me thank Heaven
that I can people my fireside with shadows such as these; with
shadows of bright objects that exist in crowds about me; and let me
say, 'I am alone no more.
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