at the corners thereof, obscurely prompted by dreams of striking
upon some old, earthen-worn memorial of that by-gone day, when,
into all this gloom, the light of heaven entered, as the masons
laid the foundation-stones, peradventure sweltering under an
August sun, or pelted by a March storm. Plying my blunted spade,
how vexed was I by that ungracious interruption of a neighbor
who, calling to see me upon some business, and being informed
that I was below said I need not be troubled to come up, but he
would go down to me; and so, without ceremony, and without my
having been forewarned, suddenly discovered me, digging in my
cellar.

"Gold digging, sir?"

"Nay, sir," answered I, starting, "I was merely--ahem!--merely--I
say I was merely digging-round my chimney."

"Ah, loosening the soil, to make it grow. Your chimney, sir, you
regard as too small, I suppose; needing further development,
especially at the top?"

"Sir!" said I, throwing down the spade, "do not be personal. I
and my chimney--"

"Personal?"

"Sir, I look upon this chimney less as a pile of masonry than as
a personage. It is the king of the house. I am but a suffered and
inferior subject."