THE MERCHANT’S DREAM.

A LGERON was amerchant. All through

a long summer day he had been en-
gaged among boxes, bales, and packages;
or poring over accounts current; or musing
over new adventures. When night came
he retired to his quiet chamber and re-
freshed his wearied mind with music and
books. Poetry, and the harmony of sweet
sounds, elevated his sentiments, and caused
him to think, as he had often before thought,
of the emptiness and vanity of mere earth-
ly pursuits.

“In what,” said he, “‘am I wasting my
time? Is there any thing in the dull round
of mercantile life to satisfy an immortal
spirit? What true congeniality is there

m—M 148