grocer, now waxing a little old, shuts up his ledger and puts it in the great iron safe of his counting-room. He is tired with the week's work; yet it is not quite done. The rest of the servants of the shop have long since retired to their several homes. He closes the street door—the shutters were let down long ago — and walks toward home. The street is mainly still, save the rumble of a belated omnibus creeping along, and a tired hackman takes off his last faro: for it is late Saturday night; nay, it is almost Sunday morning now,—the two twilights come near each other at this season,—and the red which the young millinery saw has faded out before the deep, dark blue of midnight; the clouds which held up the handsome colours for her to look at, have fallen now and are dropped on meadows newly mown. How they will jewel the grass there to-
morrow morning!
Mr Welltodo's work is not quite done : business pursues him still. "Sugars are rising," quoth he, "and my stock is getting light. Flour is falling, the new harvest is coming in pretty heavy, opens rich. What a great flour country the West is. Well, Pll think of that to-morrow. Dr Banbaby won't interrupt me much, except with the hymns. I do like music. How it touches the heart! That will do for devotion. I wish the Dr didn't make such theological prayers, fit only for the assembly of divines at Westminster who are dead and gone, thank God ! I wish some of their works had followed them long ago. Well, in sermon time I can think of the flour and the sugar. Good night, Mr Business, no more talk with you till tomorrow at eleven o'clock."
"What a lucky dog Jacob is, that partner of mine!—smart fellow too ! went up to Charlemont at four o'clock, on the Fitchburg railroad, — bad stock that,—to see his mother; that won't be the first one he stops to see; somebody else waiting for him—not quite so old. Mother not first this time. Well, I suppose it is all right, I used to do just so. Did not forget poor dear old mother; only thought of somebody else then; just at that time thought of dear little Jeannie, so I did, couldn't help it. Mother said nothing about it; she knew; always will be so; always was; one generation goeth away, and another generation cometh, but love remaineth for ever. Well,
