that was over, he endorsed every word of it, averring that horses and cows were knowing critters—and remarking with delightful complacency—"It's a great privilege for the young folks to meet together with them that's seen life, and knows as much as we do."
"Why, yes," said Caleb Miner, whose rugged features expressed a general discontent, "it's a kind of a privilege, to be sure, and thanks to you, Aikin, for thinking of it; a poor man, and a poor man's children, have but few privileges in this life; work, work, and no play; while the rich have nothing to do but enjoy themselves."
"Enjoy themselves if they can, and work too," replied Henry Aikin, with a smile. "I often drive home at nightfall with a light heart, for my work is done, my wages earned and paid; and I leave the merchants who employ me standing over their desks, their brows drawn up to a knot with care and anxiety; and there they stay till seven, eight, or nine o'clock, looking over puzzling accounts, calculating gains or losses, as the case may be. If there are such rich men as you speak of, Miner, they are beyond my knowledge. I don't know that you join in it; but, I must say, I think there is a useless and senseless outcry against rich men. It comes from the unobserving, ignorant, and unreflecting. We must remember that, in our country, there are no fixed classes; the poor family of this generation is the rich family of the next; and, more than that, the poor of to-day are the rich of tomorrow, and the rich of to-day the poor of to-morrow. The prizes are open to all, and they fall without favour. Our rich people, too, are, many of them, among the
