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You see how thin he is
now. You'd scarce believe him to be the same person if you'd seen
him then. Why his cheeks were as full and as red as roses, and
his eye was always shining and laughing, and he had the liveliest
step, and between him and Ned Hinkley, his cousin, what with flute
and fiddle, they kept the house in a constant uproar, and we were
all so happy. Now, it isn't once a month that we hear the sound of
the fiddle in the house. He never sings, and he never dances, and
he never plays, and what little he lets us see of him, is always
so sad and so spiritless that I feel heartsick whenever I look
upon him. Oh! Brother Stevens, if you could only find out what's
the matter, and tell us what to do, it would be the most blessed
kindness, and I'd never forget it, or forget you, to my dying day."
"Whatever I can do, Mrs. Hinkley, shall surely be done. I will see
and speak with your son."
"Oh! do--that's a dear good sir. I'm sure if you only talk to him
and advise him it will do him good."
"Without being so sure, ma'am, I will certainly try to please
you.


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