cessary.
He could not help the coming to his mind, as he slowly walked
up Beaver St., of his mother's recipe against disappointment,
and the conversation had about it years before; and the words,
"Whatsoever he doeth shall prosper," as Rufus's voice had
given them, came back fresh and with a moment's singular doubt
and yearning touching their faithfulness. Himself, in that
flash of light, he saw to be weak, and not strong. What if it
should be so indeed? "_Whatsoever he doeth_ -- SHALL PROSPER."
Upon the uncertainty of human things, upon the tumult of human
difficulties and resolves, the words came like a strange
breath of peace, from somewhere unknown, but felt to be a
region of health and strength. Yet the qualifications to take
the promise were not in Winthrop's hand; to seek them seemed
to be a one side of his purpose; he left them on one side, and
went on.

He was bending his steps towards the meeting of Beaver and
Little South Sts., the sole point of light which he knew in
the city. It seemed to him that rather less of the sun's cheer
got into Diamond St. than anywhere else. Bank St. was a
heartsome place in comparison. He made his way slowly up
Beaver St. looking for Little South, and passing what to him
were a great many streets without finding that one. As he drew
near still another, his eye was taken with a man standing on
the sidewalk before the corner house; a tall, personable,
clean-looking man; who on his part looked first steadily at
Winthrop and then came down to meet him, laughing and holding
out his hand before he got near.

"How do you do?" was his first cordial salutation. -- "It's Mr.
Landholm! -- I knew it! -- I knew you, from your likeness to
your brother. We've been looking for you. Come in, come in!
How is your brother, Mr. Landholm?"

Winthrop was taken by surprise and could hardly say.

"I knew you as far off as I could see you -- I said to myself,
'That's Mr. Landholm!' I am very glad to see you, sir. You've
just got here?"

"This morning. But what right have I to be expected?"

"O we knew you were coming. Your room's ready for you -- empty
and waiting, and we've been waiting and lonesome too, ever
since Mr. William went away. How _is_ Mr. William, Mr.
Landholm?"

"Well, sir, and full of kindly remembrances of you."

"Ah, he's not forgotten here," said Mr. Inchbald. "He won't be
forgotten anywhere. Here's my sister, Mr. Landholm, -- my
sister, Mrs. Nettley. -- Now, my dear sir,