ar, than I have known at any time since."

"A remarkable confession," said the friend.

"Yet true, nevertheless."

"In all these years of strife with fortune--in all these years of
unremitted gain--has there been any great and worthy end in your mind?
Any purpose beyond the acquirement of wealth?"

Mr. Steel's brows contracted. He looked at his friend for a moment like
one half surprised, and then glanced thoughtfully down at the floor.

"Gain, and only gain," said Mr. Erwin. "Not your history alone, nor
mine alone. It is the history of millions. Gathering, gathering, but
never of free choice, dispensing. Still, under Providence, the
dispensation goes on; and what we hoard, in due time another
distributes. Men accumulate gold like water in great reservoirs;
accumulate it for themselves, and refuse to lay conduits. Often they
pour in their gold until the banks fail under excessive pressure, and
the rich treasure escapes to flow back among the people. Often secret
conduits are laid, and refreshing and fertilizing currents, unknown to
the selfish owner, flow steadily out, while he toils with renewed and
anxious labors to keep the repository full. Oftener, the great magazine
of accumulated gold and silver, which he never found time to enjoy, is
rifled by others at his death. He was the toiler and the
accumulator--the slave who only produced. Miners, pearl-divers,
gold-washers are we, my friend; but what we gather we fail to possess
in that true sense of possession which involves delight and
satisfaction. For us the toil, for others the benefit."

"A flattering picture certainly!" was responded by Mr. Steel, with the
manner of one on whose mind an unpleasant conviction was forcing itself.

"Is it not true to the life? Death holds out to us his unwelcome hand,
and we must leave all. The key of our treasure-house is given, to
another."

"Yet, is he not bound by our will?" said Mr. Steel. "As we have
ordered, must not he dispense?"

"Why not dispense with our own hands, and with our own eyes see the
fruit thereof? Why not, in some small measure, at least prove if it be
indeed, more blessed to give than to receive? Let us talk plainly to
each other--we are friends. I know that in your will is a bequest of
five thousand dollars to a certain charitable institution, that, even
in its limited way, is doing much good. I speak now of only this single
item. In my will, following your example and suggestion, is a similar
bequ