I piled upon the heated fire-dogs, the last armful of my wood; and now, said I, bracing myself courageously between the arms of my chair—I’ll not flinch; I’ll pursue the thought wherever it leads, though it lead me to the d—— (I am apt to be hasty) at least—continued I, softening—until my fire is out.
The wood was green, and at first showed no disposition to blaze. It smoked furiously. Smoke, thought I, always goes before blaze; and so does doubt go before decision: and my reverie, from that very starting point, slipped into this shape:
SMOKE—SIGNIFYING DOUBT
A wife? thought I; yes, a wife! And why?
And pray, my dear sir, why not—why? Why not doubt; why not hesitate; why not tremble?