ng on. The head
of the large commission-house of Boniface Newt & Co. looked upon the
point of apoplexy.

"Good-morning, Mr. Newt; sorry that I see nothing farther," said Mr.
Hadley, and he went out.

Mr. Newt turned fiercely to the unconscious boy.

"What do you mean, Sir, by saying and doing such things?" asked he,
sharply.

"What things, Sir?" demanded the appalled boy.

"Why, getting the yard-stick when I winked to you not to find it, and
telling of other cases when I said that one was the last."

"Why, Sir, because it wasn't the last," said the boy.

"For business purposes it _was_ the last, Sir," replied Mr. Newt. "You
don't know the first principles of business. The tongue is always the
mischief-maker. Hold your tongue, Sir, hold your tongue, or you'll lose
your place, Sir."

Mr. Boniface Newt, ruffled and red, went into his office, where he found
Abel reading the newspaper and smoking a cigar. The clerks outside were
pale at the audacity, of Newt, Jun. The young man was dressed extremely
well. He had improved the few weeks of his residence in the city by
visits to Frost the tailor, in Maiden Lane; and had sent his measure
to Forr, the bootmaker in Paris, artists who turned out the prettiest
figures that decorated the Broadway of those days. Mr. Abel Newt, to his
father's eyes, had the air of a man of superb leisure; and as he sat
reading the paper, with one leg thrown over the arm of the office-chair,
and the smoke languidly curling from his lips, Mr. Boniface Newt felt
profoundly, but vaguely, uncomfortable, as if he had some slight
prescience of a future of indolence for the hope of the house of Newt.

As his father entered, Mr. Abel dropped by his side the hand still
holding the newspaper, and, without removing the cigar, said, through
the cloud of smoke he blew,

"Father, you were imparting your philosophy of life."

The older gentleman, somewhat discomposed, answered,

"Yes, I was saying what a pity it is that men are such d----d rascals,
because they force every body else to be so too. But what can you do?
It's all very fine to talk, but we've got to live. I sha'n't be such an
ass as to run into the street and say, 'I gave ten cents a yard for those
goods, but you must pay me twenty.' Not at all. It's other men's business
to find that out if they can. It's a great game, business is, and the
smartest chap wins. Every body knows we are going to get the largest
price we can. People are gouging,