You look puzzled? Well, it was a whim of
mine to put my residence and my work-shop under the same roof, yet so
distinct that they would never interfere with each other. You know the
house above is let out to lodgers. I occupy the first floor with my
mother and sister, and this is my parlor. I do my work in that severe
room that fronts the street: here is where I play. A man must have
something else in life than mere business. I find it less harmful and
expensive to have my pleasure here."
Thatcher had sunk moodily in the embracing arms of an easy chair. He was
thinking deeply; he was fond of books too, and, like all men who have
fared hard and led wandering lives, he knew the value of cultivated
repose. Like all men who have been obliged to sleep under blankets
and in the open air, he appreciated the luxuries of linen sheets and
a frescoed roof. It is, by the way, only your sick city clerk or your
dyspeptic clergyman who fancy that they have found in the bad bread,
fried steaks, and frowzy flannels of mountain picknicking the true art
of living.
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