"Psha! wife, of course it is hollow. Who ever heard of a solid
chimney?" But nothing avails. And my daughters take after, not
me, but their mother.

Sometimes all three abandon the theory of the secret closet and
return to the genuine ground of attack--the unsightliness of so
cumbrous a pile, with comments upon the great addition of room to
be gained by its demolition, and the fine effect of the projected
grand hall, and the convenience resulting from the collateral
running in one direction and another of their various partitions.
Not more ruthlessly did the Three Powers partition away poor
Poland, than my wife and daughters would fain partition away my
chimney.

But seeing that, despite all, I and my chimney still smoke our
pipes, my wife reoccupies the ground of the secret closet,
enlarging upon what wonders are there, and what a shame it is,
not to seek it out and explore it.

"Wife," said I, upon one of these occasions, "why speak more of
that secret closet, when there before you hangs contrary
testimony of a master mason, elected by yourself to decide.
Besides, even if there were a secret closet, secret it should
remain, and secret it shall. Yes, wife, here for once I must say
my say. Infinite sad mischief has resulted from the profane
bursting open of secret recesses. Though standing in the heart of
this house, though hitherto we have all nestled about it,
unsuspicious of aught hidden within, this chimney may or may not
have a secret closet. But if it have, it is my kinsman's. To