Autobiography of Charles HSpurgeon compiled from his diary, letters and records by his wife and his private secretary . ses represented on theright-hand side of the picture; but this year—1898—the firm has erected newbuildings in Whitecross .Street. The publishing and sale of the works were formany years carried on at 23, and 18, Paternoster Row, and now that portion of thebusiness has its headquarters at 4, Paternoster Buildings, which is represented onthe left-hand side of the illustration.) CHAPTER XLVIII. Carlg Wittim lift By Mrs. C. H. Spurgeon. Matrimony came from Paradise, and leads to
Autobiography of Charles HSpurgeon compiled from his diary, letters and records by his wife and his private secretary . ses represented on theright-hand side of the picture; but this year—1898—the firm has erected newbuildings in Whitecross .Street. The publishing and sale of the works were formany years carried on at 23, and 18, Paternoster Row, and now that portion of thebusiness has its headquarters at 4, Paternoster Buildings, which is represented onthe left-hand side of the illustration.) CHAPTER XLVIII. Carlg Wittim lift By Mrs. C. H. Spurgeon. Matrimony came from Paradise, and leads to it. I never was half so liappy, before I was amarried man, as I am now. When you are married, your bliss begins. Let the husband love his wifeas he loves himself, and a little better, for she is his better half. He should feel, If theres only onegood wife in the whole world, Ive got her. John Ploughman has long thought lust that of his ownwile; and after thirty-five years, he is more sure of it than ever. There is not a better woman on thesurface of the globe than his own, very own beloved.—yo^n ^GAIN the responsible task lies before me of interweaving my owndearest personal memories with my beloveds Autobiography, thatthe picture ot his lifes history may glow with the fair colours andpresent some of the finishing touches which are needed to renderit as complete as possible. Alas, that his dear hand is powerlessto furnish them ! Every line I write fills me with regret that Icannot better set forth the remembrance of his worth and goodness. Someone wrote to me, lately, saying that it was impossible for a mans nearestfriends to give a true and impartial idea of him ; they lived in too close proximityto him, their vision was interrupted by their admiration, they could not see manythings that others, lookino on from a remoter and broader colon of vantage, coulddistinctly discern. This seems to me a great mistake, except indeed in cases wheredistance lends enchan
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