often I have wished that I had not been bred a merchant! But my mother said that it was a favorite wish of my father, that I should be an accomplished merchant."

"I have sometimes wished so too," answered his wife; "and then, again, I remember, that the very evils that belong to your profession may be turned into good. He that has it in his power to do wrong with impunity though he gains by it, yet chooses the right by which he loses, is the most eloquent preacher of righteousness."

"Very true, Amy; but sometimes this is indeed cutting off the right hand, and plucking out the right eye; and then thinking always about money and bargains has such a contracting influence upon one's mind!"

"But, how often, Edward, have I heard you say that no man has such wide and various connexions with the human race, as a well-educated, upright, and active merchant! Every part of the world sends him its tribute of knowledge, as well as of riches. He sees men under all aspects; and while he may, with a certain degree of security, indulge in dishonesty, and be the enemy of his fellowmen, perhaps no man can be so true, and self-sacrificing, and efficient a philanthropist, as a Christian merchant."

"It is not always so easy as you may imagine, for a merchant to act as remembering that he is under his great Task-master's eye."

"Not for all, or some men; but for you, Edward, the difficulty would be to act otherwise. When I think of your profession, Edward, it gives me pleasure to notice that merchants in general, as they acquire property more easily, are more disposed to spend it liberally."

"Yes," said Edward, as his eye kindled at the thought; "the greater proportion of our public benefactors have been merchants. Their money has given eyes to the blind, and ears to the deaf, health to the sick, and peace and comfort to the forsaken; it feeds and instructs the ignorant poor; it sends the glad tidings of salvation to the unbeliever and the penitent; it takes little children in its arms, and blesses them. But all this glorious power supposes wealth, Amy."

"And you, dear Edward, are rich enough to enjoy this highest of all privileges to be the dispenser of good to others. You have cause only for thankfulness. But the poor, the unsuccessful merchant, who has not the means of educating his children, whose

spirits are broken down by failures, and whose temper is soured by what he considers the injustice or dishonesty of others, perhaps even of his own friends - he is the man who, perhaps, may be excused for finding fault with his profession. My heart aches for him."

Edward started up, and walked hastily backward and forwards through the room, as if he had been seized with some sudden and intolerable pain.

"What is the matter, Edward?" said his wife. 66 Are you ill?"

"O, nothing; nothing of consequence," said Edward. "I happened to think of something rather unpleasant then. It is late now, I believe, and my head aches."

They retired for the night. The next day, Edward looked depressed and thoughtful, and as if he had passed a sleepless night. Amy was troubled by his silence. This was the first cloud that had rested on her husband's brow since they were married.

"He has," she said to herself, "he has always confided every thing to me. He will tell me what it is that hangs so heavily upon his spirits. He will never shut me out from his sorrows, any more than his joys."

She thought, when he returned from the counting-house for the day, that he looked more free and happy, though he was still silent and thoughtful.

"Come and sit by me, Amy," said Edward to her, when they were alone in the evening. Amy sat down by her husband.

"Do you not, Amy, enjoy our handsome house, and pictures, and carriage, &c.?"

"Surely, Edward; I take great pleasure in these things. Why do you ask?"

"And you love to have money enough to give to those who want it?"

"Why, what a question, Edward! You know I value this power more than I can tell."

"And can you voluntarily resign all these luxuries, Amy?"

"Why should I voluntarily resign them, Edward? What makes you so enigmatical? Tell me what you mean."

"Suppose that all the money, which enables us to indulge ourselves in these luxuries, is not truly our own; what would you have me do, Amy?"

"Is it you, Edward, that asks me whether I would keep that which belongs to another? Is it you that asks me whether I would be dishonest?"

"But suppose, according to the law of the land, and the customs of society, and the tacit consent of those most interested, this property was secured to you?'

"When I am satisfied," said Amy, "that I can plead the law of the land, the customs of society, and the opinions of the world, before the judgment-seat of God, as an excuse for violating that higher law, which he has written on my heart-when I have placed the opinion of the world in the scales against my own self-respect, and found it the weightiest, then, Edward, I might hesitate. But why ask me such questions? Why do you not speak plainly?"

"I will, Amy," answered her husband. "When I failed in business, before our marriage, I made a settlement with my creditors, by which I paid them seventy-five cents on a dollar. They knew that I paid them all I had, and signed a full release from all further claims. Of late, my mind has been troubled about those debts; for such I consider them. A few days since, one of my creditors brought his son to me, (a fine fellow,) and asked me to take him into my store. He mentioned, in the course of conversation, that he had intended to send his son to college, for the