‘What!’ said I, ‘abolish the chimney? To take out the backbone of anything, wife, is a hazardous affair. Spines out of backs, and chimneys out of houses, are not to be taken like frosted lead-pipes from the ground. Besides,’ added I, ‘the chimney is the one grand permanence of this abode. If undisturbed by innovators, then in future ages, when all the house shall have crumbled from it, this chimney will still survive--a Bunker Hill monument. No, no, wife, I can’t abolish my backbone.’ So said I then. But who is sure of himself, especially an old man, with both wife and daughters ever at his elbow and ear? In time, I was persuaded to think a little better of it; in short, to take the matter into preliminary consideration. At length it came to pass that a master mason--a rough sort of architect--one Mr. Scribe, was summoned to a conference. I formally introduced him to my chimney. A previous introduction from my wife had introduced him to myself. He had been not a little employed by that lady, in preparing plans and estimates for some of her extensive operations in drainage. Having, with much ado, extorted from my spouse the promise that she would leave us to an unmolested survey, I began by leading Mr. Scribe down to the root of the matter, in the cellar. Lamp in hand, I descended; for though upstairs it was noon, below it was night. We seemed in the pyramids; and I, with one hand holding my lamp over head, and with the other pointing out, in the obscurity, the hoar mass of the chimney, seemed some Arab guide, showing the cobwebbed mausoleum of the great god Apis. ‘This is a most remarkable structure, sir,’ said the master mason, after long contemplating it in silence, ‘a most remarkable structure, sir.’ ‘Yes,’ said I, complacently, ‘everyone says so.’ ‘But large as it appears above the roof, I would not have inferred the magnitude of this foundation, sir,’ eyeing it critically. Then taking out his rule, he measured it. ‘Twelve feet square; one hundred and forty-four square feet! Sir, this house would appear to have been built simply for the accommodation of your chimney.’ ‘Yes, my chimney and me. Tell me candidly, now,’ I added, ‘would you have such a famous chimney abolished?’ ‘I wouldn’t have it in a house of mine, sir, for a gift,’ was the reply. ‘It’s a losing affair altogether, sir. Do you know, sir, that in retaining this chimney, you are losing, not only one hundred and forty-four square feet of good ground, but likewise a considerable interest upon a considerable principal?’ ‘How?’ ‘Look, sir,’ said he, taking a bit of red chalk from his pocket, and figuring against a whitewashed wall, ‘twenty times eight is so and so; then forty-two times thirty-nine is so and so--ain’t it, sir? Well, add those together, and subtract this here, then that makes so and so,’ still chalking away.