ly
rouse himself to his work. "The career of a merchant prince is still
open to you," said Robinson, enthusiastically.

"Not along with Maryanne and Sarah Jane, George!"

"Sarah Jane is a married woman, and sits at another man's hearth. Why
do you allow her to trouble you?"

"She is my child, George. A man can't deny himself to his child. At
least I could not. And I don't want to be a merchant prince. If I
could only have a little place of my own, that was my own; and where
they wouldn't always be nagging after money when they come to see
me."

Poor Mr. Brown! He was asking from the fairies that for which we are
all asking,--for which men have ever asked. He merely desired the
comforts of the world, without its cares. He wanted his small farm of
a few acres, as Horace wanted it, and Cincinnatus, and thousands of
statesmen, soldiers, and merchants, from their days down to ours; his
small farm, on which, however, the sun must always shine, and where
no weeds should flourish. Poor Mr. Brown! Such little farms for
the comforts of old age can only be attained by long and unwearied
cultivation during the years of youth and manhood.

It was on one occasion such as this, not very long after the affair
of Mrs. Morony, that Robinson pressed very eagerly upon Mr. Brown the
special necessity which demanded from the firm at the present moment
more than ordinary efforts in the way of advertisement.

"Jones has given us a great blow," said Robinson.

"I fear he has," said Mr. Brown.

"And now, if we do not put our best foot forward it will be all up
with us. If we flag now, people will see that we are down. But if we
go on with audacity, all those reports will die away, and we shall
again trick our beams, and flame once more in the morning sky."

It may be presumed that Mr. Brown did not exactly follow the
quotation, but the eloquence of Robinson had its desired effect. Mr.
Brown did at last produce a sum of five hundred pounds, with which
printers, stationers, and advertising agents were paid or partially
paid, and Robinson again went to work.

"It's the last," said Mr. Brown, with a low moan, "and would have
been Maryanne's!"

Robinson, when he heard this, was much struck by the old man's
enduring courage. How had he been able to preserve this sum from the
young woman's hands, pressed as he had been by her and by Brisket? Of
this Robinson said nothing, but he did venture to allude to the fact
that the money must, in f