wish to know where I am to be found, you can inquire at Ehrenthal's, in
Dyer Street. Good-night."

Anton entered with a beating heart, and felt for his father's letter. He
had become so diffident, and his head felt so confused, that he would
gladly have sat down for a moment to rest and compose himself. But there
was no rest here. A great wagon stood at the door, and within, colossal
bales and barrels; while broad-shouldered giants, with leathern aprons
and short hooks in their belts, were carrying ladders, rattling chains,
rolling casks, and tying thick ropes into artistic knots; while clerks,
with pens behind their ears and papers in their hands, moved to and fro,
and carriers in blue blouses received the different goods committed to
their care. Clearly there was no rest to be had here. Anton ran up
against a bale, nearly fell over a ladder, and was with difficulty saved
by the loud "Take care!" of two leathern-aproned sons of Anak from being
crushed flat under an immense tun of oil.

In the centre of all this movement--the sun around which porters, and
clerks, and wagoners revolved--stood a young official, of decided air
and few words, holding a large black pencil in his hand, with which he
made colossal hieroglyphics on the bales before he desired the porters
to move them. To him Anton addressed himself in a nearly inaudible
voice, and was directed by a wave of the pencil to the counting-house.
Slowly he approached the door, which it cost him a mighty effort to
open, and as it gently yielded, and he saw the great room before him,
his alarm was such that he could scarcely enter. His entrance, however,
did not make much sensation. Half a dozen clerks were dashing in haste
over the blue folio paper before them, to save the post. Only one of
them, who sat next the door, rose, and asked what Anton was pleased to
want.

Upon his replying that he wished to speak to Mr. Schroeter, there emerged
from an inner room a tall man, with a deeply-marked visage, standing
shirt-collar, and thoroughly English aspect. Anton took a rapid survey
of his countenance, and felt his courage return. He at once discovered
uprightness and kindness of heart, though the air and manner were
somewhat stern. He rapidly drew out his letter, gave his name, and, in a
broken voice, mentioned his father's death.

At this a friendly light beamed from the merchant's eyes; he opened the
letter, read it attentively, and stretched out his hand, saying, "Y