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257
Cranford
·
Elizabeth Cleghorn Gaskell
73
The
kind
old
grandmother
was
dead
when
a
little
boy
was
born,
soon
after
the
publication
of
the
sermon;
but
there
was
another
letter
of
exhortation
from
the
grandfather,
more
stringent
and
admonitory
than
ever,
now
that
there
was
a
boy
to
be
guarded
from
the
snares
of
the
world.
He
described
all
the
various
sins
into
which
men
might
fall,
until
I
wondered
how
any
man
ever
came
to
a
natural
death.
The
gallows
seemed
as
if
it
must
have
been
the
termination
of
the
lives
of
most
of
the
grandfather’s
friends
and
acquaintance;
and
I
was
not
surprised
at
the
way
in
which
he
spoke
of
this
life
being
“a
vale
of
tears.”
It
seemed
curious
that
I
should
never
have
heard
of
this
brother
before;
but
I
concluded
that
he
had
died
young,
or
else
surely
his
name
would
have
been
alluded
to
by
his
sisters.
By-and-by
we
came
to
packets
of
Miss
Jenkyns’s
letters.
These
Miss
Matty
did
regret
to
burn.
She
said
all
the
others
had
been
only
interesting
to
those
who
loved
the
writers,
and
that
it
seemed
as
if
it
would
have
hurt
her
to
allow
them
to
fall
into
the
hands
of
strangers,
who
had
not
known
her
dear
mother,
and
how
good
she
was,
although
she
did
not
always
spell
quite
in
the
modern
fashion;
but
Deborah’s
letters
were
so
very
superior!
Any
one
might
profit
by
reading
them.
It
was
a
long
time
since
she
had
read
Mrs
Chapone,
but
she
knew
she
used
to
think
that
Deborah
could
have
said
the
same
things
quite
as
well;
and
as
for
Mrs
Carter!
people
thought
a
deal
of
her
letters,
just
because
she
had
written
“Epictetus,”
but
she
was
quite
sure
Deborah
would
never
have
made
use
of
such
a
common
expression
as
“I
canna
be
fashed!”
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