Моби Дик

The Blacksmith

           Now,forprudent,mostwise,andeconomicreasons,theblacksmith’sshopwasinthebasementofhisdwelling,butwithaseparateentrancetoit;sothatalwayshadtheyoungandlovinghealthywifelistenedwithnounhappynervousness,butwithvigorouspleasure,tothestoutringingofheryoung-armedoldhusband’shammer;whosereverberations,muffledbypassingthroughthefloorsandwalls,cameuptoher,notunsweetly,inhernursery;andso,tostoutLabor’sironlullaby,theblacksmith’sinfantswererockedtoslumber.

           Oh,woeonwoe!Oh,Death,whycanstthounotsometimesbetimely?Hadstthoutakenthisoldblacksmithtothyselferehisfullruincameuponhim,thenhadtheyoungwidowhadadeliciousgrief,andherorphansatrulyvenerable,legendarysiretodreamofintheirafteryears;andallofthemacare-killingcompetency.ButDeathpluckeddownsomevirtuouselderbrother,onwhosewhistlingdailytoilsolelyhungtheresponsibilitiesofsomeotherfamily,andlefttheworsethanuselessoldmanstanding,tillthehideousrotoflifeshouldmakehimeasiertoharvest.

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