rday night. Here there
are monetary sensations in abundance. The life of such people is full
of them. The annuitant or the proprietor who listlessly, and without
one additional throb of his pulse, drops hundreds into his purse, has
not the ghost of an idea of the thrill of pleasure--invoking, perhaps,
a score of delightful associations--with which the boy who holds his
horse receives the sixpence, which is tossed him as the capitalist in
his normal condition rides coolly and unmovedly away. To experience
monetary sensations, you must earn the money first, and have a score
of urgent purposes disputing for its application.

But perhaps one of the most vivid monetary sensations which a man
experiences, is when he is paid the first instalment of the price of
his labours. In an instant, he seems to rise and take a footing in the
world. He has struck the first blow in his Battle of Life, and
prostrated his antagonist, for whom, however, as soon as he has taken
him captive, he conceives a particular affection. The glow of assured
independence is a proud and manly feeling. The money is not _given_.
That is the overmastering sensation. It is fairly earned. The
recipient swells with honest pride as he thinks he is now a man
working his way, and strides off a couple of inches higher than he
came. This elevation of sentiment of course gradually dies away. The
monetary sensation of the first-earned payment is not supported, but
it is not forgotten, and insensibly, perhaps, to the recipient, it has
at once heightened and deepened the moral qualities and tendencies of
his spiritual being. From time to time, as remuneration ascends, a
shade, as it were, of the first impression is recalled, particularly
when the recipient perceives that at last--that great change in a
young man's life--his 'settlement' may be accomplished. Here is
another sensational era in his monetary experiences--the realisation
of the grand fact that the struggle, always promising, is at length
successful, and that he is now enlisted in the regular army of
society. The elder Stephenson, when an occasional wage of a shilling
per day was raised to a permanent two, flung up his hat, and
exclaimed: 'Thank God! I'm a made man for life!' Here was a fine
monetary sensation.

But there are also monetary sensations of quite a different species
from those to which we have alluded. The sun shines on both sides of
the hedge, and blank and dreary, if not dismaying and crushing