watched the
signal flags of three of my own ships entering the harbor, from the
East Indies, from Liverpool, and from up the Straits, and I would not
have given the invoice of the least of them for the title-deeds of this
whole Shaker settlement. You stare. Perhaps, now, you won't believe
that I could have put more value on a little piece of paper, no bigger
than the palm of your hand, than all these solid acres of grain, grass,
and pasture-land would sell for?"

"I won't dispute it, friend," answered Josiah, "but I know I had rather
have fifty acres of this good land than a whole sheet of thy paper."

"You may say so now," said the ruined merchant, bitterly, "for my name
would not be worth the paper I should write it on. Of course, you must
have heard of my failure?"

And the stranger mentioned his name, which, however mighty it might
have been in the commercial world, the young Shaker had never heard of
among the Canterbury hills.

"Not heard of my failure!" exclaimed the merchant, considerably piqued.
"Why, it was spoken of on 'Change in London, and from Boston to New
Orleans men trembled in their shoes. At all events, I did fail, and you
see me here on my road to the Shaker village, where, doubtless (for the
Shakers are a shrewd sect), they will have a due respect for my
experience, and give me the management of the trading part of the
concern, in which case I think I can pledge myself to double their
capital in four or five years. Turn back with me, young man; for though
you will never meet with my good luck, you can hardly escape my bad."

"I will not turn back for this," replied Josiah, calmly, "any more than
for the advice of the varse-maker, between whom and thee, friend, I see
a sort of likeness, though I can't justly say where it lies. But Miriam
and I can earn our daily bread among the world's people as well as in
the Shaker village. And do we want anything more, Miriam?"

"Nothing more, Josiah," said the girl, quietly.

"Yea, Miriam, and daily bread for some other little mouths, if God send
them," observed the simple Shaker lad.

Miriam did not reply, but looked down into the spring, where she
encountered the image of her own pretty face, blushing within the prim
little bonnet. The third pilgrim now took up the conversation. He was a
sunburnt countryman, of tall frame and bony strength, on whose rude and
manly face there appeared a darker, more sullen and obstinate
despondency, than on those of eit