"Because," said I, "I can bear it no longer. It is now ten years since we moved into this room, and ten times every day have I been compelled to get up and shut that door after one and another. I have talked--and talked--but it is all of no use: the door still stands wide open, and I cannot bear it--No! and I _wont_ bear it any longer--I'll sell the house sooner than endure it another week." Her tiny white hand was pressed against her throbbing forehead, as I finished the sentence with a glance at her of undissembled sternness, and the mild look of patient suffering and imploring submission with which she returned my angry frown--it cut me to the heart! I could read my own death warrant at this very hour with less of pain than I felt at that moment, as she raised her blue eyes glistening with suppressed tears, and with all the innocence and affection of an expiring saint, begged me in the silent eloquence of nature to spare her whom I had promised to "cherish and to love." "I have never seen you troubled," said she, (uncomplaining spirit! there was no emphasis--no! not the _least_, on the word _troubled_!) "I have never seen you troubled at any thing except that door--and gladly would I remedy it, but you know that I cannot. Were a very little filed from the inside of the catch it would shut without difficulty--I should never think of it," added she after a pause, "on my own account, but it causes you so much vexation." It was true as she had said, that I had felt more anger in consequence of that unfortunate door than all the other untoward events which I had experienced from the time of my marriage. A _heavy_ loss--a _sore_ disappointment--a _great_ calamity, I could endure with composure. The trial required philosophy for its support, and the exercise of philosophy was a gratification to pride. But a door-latch! What occasion could that give for philosophy? None, and therefore I let it gall me _to the quick_!!! It was, as I observed, so easy to shut it, with a little care--such a _little_ thing, if only attended to. "True!" whispered Philosophy in my ear, "but such a 'little thing' to get angry about! such a 'little thing' to make you miserable for an hour every day! for shame, Mr. Plowman!" To tell the truth I did begin to feel a little ashamed when I recollected how much unhappiness it had caused not only myself--but _through_ me my dearer wife. "I declare, my dear!" said I, "that if that door-latch had only been filed ten years ago, it would have saved each of us one year of pain before this time!" Thomas had brought in a file before my speech was finished, and in a few moments the door shut as easily and firmly as ever door did. I swung it a few times on the hinges with an air of triumph, and I verily believe that the work of that single moment conferred more happiness on Julia as well as myself, than all his blood-bought triumphs ever yielded to the conqueror.