'Wherefore, my friends, since life is short, resolve to enjoy all that it has to give--together: and to suffer all that it has to inflict--together. There is much to enjoy that is lawful and innocent. The Lord is mindful of His own--Love is lawful, and innocent: there is abiding comfort in love: trust in each other raises the soul of him who trusts and of him who is trusted: sweet music is lawful and innocent: if there is ever any doubt: if there is any trouble: if any fail in love: if the world becomes like a threatening sea: you shall find in music new strength and comfort. But why do I speak of the solace of music to Will Halliday and the sister of Tom Shirley? Therefore, I say no more.' He stopped and rose. Alice poured out another glass of cherry brandy for him. 'I nearly forgot what I came for. Such is the effect of contemplating happiness. Will, I have thought for a long time that you wanted a harpsichord.' 'Sir, it has been ever beyond my dreams.' 'Then I am glad--because I can now supply that want. I have brought with me, dear lad--and dear blooming bride, as good an instrument as I have in my shop: no better in all the world.' He went out and called his man. We lifted the instrument--it was most beautiful not only in touch but also with its rosewood case. We set it up and I tried it. 'Oh!' Alice caught his hand and kissed it. 'Now Will is happy indeed. How can we thank you sufficiently?' 'Play upon it,' he said. 'Play daily upon it: play the finest music only upon it. So shall your souls be raised--even to the gates of Heaven.' Once more he drew my wife towards him and kissed her on the forehead. Then he seized my hand and shook it and before I had time or could find words to speak or to thank him, he was gone, marching down the hot lane with the firm step of thirty, instead of seventy. A noble gift, dictated by the most friendly feeling. Yet it led to the first misfortune of my life--one that might well have proved a misfortune impossible to be overcome. Then began our wedded life. For two years we continued to live in that little cottage. There our first child was born, a lovely boy. Every evening I repaired to the Dog and Duck, and took my place in the orchestra. Familiarity makes one callous: I had long since ceased to regard the character of the company. They might be, as Tom pretended, the most aristocratic assembly in the world: they might be the reverse. The coloured lamps in the garden pleased me no more: nor did the sight of those who danced or the pulling of corks and the singing of songs after supper in the bowers: the ladies were no longer beautiful in my eyes: I enquired not about the entertainment except for my own part: I never looked at the fireworks. All these things to one who has to attend night after night becomes part of the work and not of the entertainment and amusement of life.