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Warfield, Catherine A.

"Miriam Monfort A Novel"


Nothing so fosters haughtiness and egotism as a sphere like this, and it
may be doubted whether the crowned heads of the world receive more
adulation from their households than men so situated.
From the moment he set his foot on the threshold of his own house, nay,
on the broad, quiet pavement of his own street, with its stately row of
ancient Lombardy poplars on one side, and blank, high-walled lumber-yard
on the other, he felt himself a sovereign--king of a principality! king
of a neighborhood;--what great difference is there, after all?
It was only the hypochondriacal character of his mind that shielded him
from that chief human absurdity, pomposity. He needed all the praise and
consolation his friends could bestow simply to sustain him--no danger of
inflation in his case! He was shut away from self-complacency (the only
vice to which virtue is subjected) by the melancholy that permeated his
being, and which was probably in his case an inheritance--constitutional,
as it is said to be with things.
Perhaps it will be well to give, in this place, some more vivid idea of
our home, which, after all, like the shell of the sea-fish, most
frequently shapes itself to fit the necessities and habits of its
occupants.
Our house had been built in early times, and was essentially
old-fashioned, like the part of the city in which it was situated.


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