Markland was an unhappy man; and yet of this world’s goods, after which he had striven, he had an abundance.  Wealth, honor among men, luxury; these were presented to his mind as things most to be desired, and he reached after them with an ardor that broke down all impediments.  Success answered to effort, with almost unerring certainty.  So he was full of wealth and honors.  But, for all this, Markland was unhappy.  There were enemies in the house of his life; troublesome guests in the guest-chambers of his heart, who were forever disturbing, if not wounding him, with their strifes and discords.  Some of these he had admitted, himself holding open the door; others had come in by stealth while the entrance was all unguarded.

Envy was one of these guests, and she gave him no peace.  He could not bear that another should stand above him in anything.  A certain pew in the church he attended was regarded as most desirable.  He must have that pew at any cost.  So when the annual choice of pews was sold at auction, he overbid all contestants, and secured its occupancy.  For all the preceding year, he had failed to enjoy the Sabbath services, because another family had a pew regarded as better situated than his; and now he enjoyed these services as little, through annoyance at having given so large a price for the right of choice, that people smiled when they heard the sum named.  He had paid too dear for the privilege, and this fact took away enjoyment.

Envy tormented him in a hundred different ways.  He could not enjoy his friend’s exquisite statuary, or paintings, because of a secret intimation in his heart that his friend was honored above him in their possession.  Twice he had sold almost palatial residences, because their architectural attractions were thrown into the shade by dwellings of later construction.  Thousands of dollars each year this troublesome guest cost him; and yet she would never let him be at ease.  At every feast of life she dashed his cup with bitterness, and robbed the choicest viands of their zest.  He did not enjoy the fame of an author, an orator, an artist, a man of science, a general, or of any who held the world’s admiring gaze—­for while they stood in the sunlight, he felt cast in the shade.  So the guest Envy, warmed and nourished in his heart, proved a tormentor.  She gave him neither rest nor peace.

Detraction, twin-sister of Envy, was all the while pointing out defects in friends and neighbors.  He saw their faults and hard peculiaries; but rarely their good qualities.  Then Doubt and Distrust crept in through the unguarded door, and soon after their entrance Markland began to think uneasily of the future; to fear lest the foundations of worldly prosperity were not sure.  These troublesome guests were busiest in the night season, haunting his mind with strange pictures of disasters, and with suggestions touching the arbitrary power of God, whom he feared when the thought of him was present, but did not love.