be without life?"

Rachel burst out laughing, and the curate could not help joining
her.

"Mr. Drew," said Polwarth, half merrily, "are you going to help me
drag my chain out of its weary length, or are you too much shocked
at the doubtful condition of its links to touch them? I promise you
the last shall be of bright gold."

"I beg your pardon," said the draper; "I might have known you didn't
mean it."

"On the contrary, I mean everything I say and that literally.
Perhaps I don't mean everything you fancy I mean.--Tell me then,
would life be worth having on any and every possible condition?"

"Certainly not."

"You know some, I dare say, who would be glad to be rid of life such
as it is, and such as they suppose it must continue?"

"I don't."

"I do."

"I have already understood that everybody clung to life."

"Most people do; everybody certainly does not: Job, for instance."