THE POOR WOODCUTTER. 27
“that I could have-let the saving of such
a paltry sum restrain me from the perform-
ance of an act of humanity. I spend dol-
lars in the gratification of my senses, and
part freely with the money in doing so;
but when the question of compensation to
a poor labouring-man comes up, I chaffer for
the value of a few pennies, and beat down
to a minimum price, instead of taking a
pleasure in paying liberally. Ah me! what
strange inconsistency !”

Leaving Mr. Edgar to his not very plea-
sant reflections, we will follow the wood-
cutter. His name was Harlan. He had
been better off than now—-owning at one
time a small farm near the city, from which
he derived a comfortable support for his
family. In an evil hour he was induced
to sell this farm and remove to Philadelphia,
for the purpose of keeping a store. The
result was as might have been expected.
Knowing nothing of business, he was not
able to conduct it successfully. By the
end of three years, he found himself unable

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