Hepzibab bad no natural turn for cookery, and, to say
the truth, had fairly incurred her present meagreness, by
often choosing to go without her dinner, rather than be
attendant on the rotation of the spit, or ebullition of the
pot. Her seal over the fire, therefore, was quite au
heroic test of sentiment. It was touching, and positively
worthy of tears (if Phoebe, the only spectator, except the
rats and ghosts aforesaid, had not been better employed
than in shedding them), to see her rake out a bed of
fresh and glowing coals, and proceed to broil the mack-
erel. Her usually pale cheeks were all ablaze with heat
and hurry. She watched the fish with as much tender
care and minuteness of attention as if, — we know not
how to express it otherwise, — as if her own heart were
on the gridiron, and her immortal happiness were in-
volved in its being done precisely to a turn!

Life, within doors, has few pleasanter prospects thaa
a neatly arranged and well-provisioned breakfast-table.
