The Argosy — page 349: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

328 In the Dead of Night. ‘You are very intellectual, madam ; and that is just where the evil lies.” “Excuse me, but I fail to follow you.” ‘You are gifted with a very large and a very powerful brain,” said Tom, with the utmost gravity. The Squire snorted suddenly in his sleep. The widow held up a warning finger. There was silence in the room till the Squire’s gentle long-drawn snores announced that he was again happily fast asleep. “Very few of us are so specially gifted,” resumed Tom. “ But every special gift necessitates a special obligation in return. You, with your massive brain, must find that brain plenty of work to do—a sufficiency of congenial employment—otherwise it will inevitably turn upon itself, grow morbid and hypochondriacal, and slowly but surely deteriorate, till it ends by becoming—what I hardly like to say.” “Really, Mr. Bristow, this conversation is to me most interesting,” said the widow. ‘“ Your views are thoroughly original, but, at the same time, I feel that they are perfectly correct.” ‘The sphere of your intellectual activity is far too narrow and con- fined,” resumed Tom; “ your’brain has not sufficient pabulum to keep it in a state of healthy activity. You want to mix more with the world—to mix more with clever people, like yourself. It was never intended by Nature that you should lose yourself among the narrow coteries of provincial life: the metropolis claims you: the world at large claims you. A conversationalist so brilliant, so incisive, with such an exhaustless fund of new ideas, can only hope to find her equals among the best circles of London or Parisian society.” ‘* How thoroughly you appreciate me, Mr. Bristow!” said the widow, all in a flutter of gratified vanity, as she edged her chair still closer to Tom. “It is as you sav. I feel that I am lost here—that I am altogether out of my element. I stay here more as a matter of duty— of principle—than of anything else. Not that it is any gratification to. me, as you may well imagine, to be buried alive in this dull hole. But my brother is getting old and infirm—breaking fast, I’m afraid, poor man,” here the Squire gave a louder snore than common; “while © Jane is little more than a foolish girl. They both need the guidance of a kind but firm hand. The interests of both demand a clear brain to look after them.” ‘My dear madam, I agree with you in toto. Your Spartan views with regard to the duties of every-day life are mine exactly. But we must not forget that we have still another duty—that of carefully pre- serving our health, especially when our lives are invaluable to the epoch in which we live. You, my dear madam, are killing yourself by inches.” “ “On, Mr. Bristow, not quite so bad as that, I hope!” ‘What I say, I say advisedly. I think that, without difficulty, I can Eomicbooks cO