His job as a painter was wearing him down acutely as he aged. "I lost a very valuable one some time ago. Each human contact leaves some indelible mark. Nigel Ennison was my very good friend, but there is not the slightest reason for your not marrying him, if you wish to do so. His legs were dreadfully swelled; his hands bruised; and his fetters occasioned him intolerable pain. The spirit I drink may be poison,—it may kill me,—perhaps it is killing me:—but so would hunger, cold, misery,—so would my own thoughts. Before retracing his steps, however, he allowed his gaze to range over the vast and beautiful prospect spread out beneath him, which is now hidden, from the traveller's view by the high walls of the General Cemetery, and can, consequently, only be commanded from the interior of that attractive place of burial,—and which, before it was intersected by canals and railroads, and portioned out into hippodromes, was exquisite indeed. uh.
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