AMONG the innumerable little tin signs that dot the surface
of every building in Wall street, there might have
been seen at the period whereof we write, one emblazoned in
copperish looking gilding with the names of “Brothers Tuck,”
fastened against the basement office of a very high granite
building. This was the place of business of the two young
gentlemen of that name who have already been presented to
the reader. When we last parted company with them they
were boys; they are now men. They were then called
simply Tom and Fred; they are now known as T. Jefferson
Tuck and F. Augustus Tuck; but we shall continue to apply
to them the appellation by which we first knew them, because
we have a fondness for old-fashioned names. In the neighborhood
of Wall street, and at the Board of Brokers, they were
known by at least a dozen different appellations. Some called
them simply the Tucks; others Guss. and Jeff., others
the two Tucks, while some merely called them the Brothers,
and some coarse people, for there are coarse people even in
Wall street, called them the Tuckses.

The Brothers Tuck were in good credit in Wall street, for
it was universally known that their bachelor uncle was rich
and old, and they never troubled themselves to contradict the
rumor that he was going to leave them a large portion of his

[figure description] Page 126.[end figure description]

estate. Tom was the managing partner. He had a great
financial reputation, which in those days was equal to a fortune,
and he was consequently a very important personage
on the side-walk of Wall street, where he was rarely seen
without a knot of billious-looking, care-worn faces, clustered
around him, as though he were the sun of their centre from
whose beams they all imbibed light and heat. But the meaning
of words is continually changing and a great financier in
these days is looked upon as signifying very nearly a great
rogue. Whenever anybody called upon Fred. in relation to
business, he always referred them to his brother, contenting
himself mainly with spending his share of the profits, and
reading all the new novels as fast as they came out. The
particular nature of their business no one ever rightly understood:
they talked mysteriously of their operations and transactions,
and they were supposed to be shrewd calculators—
devilish close fellows who continued to keep their business
to themselves. They lived, with their mother, at the
genteelest extremity of the city, and drove down to their office
every morning in a drab-colored phaeton of an indescribable
shape. They dealt some in stocks, talked knowingly about
the currency and exchanges, and dined at a French “restorateurs.”
They frequented political meetings and subscribed to
benevolent societies without number; they signed all the
petitions that were brought to them, let the object of them be
what it might: they worshipped in a fashionable church, and
entertained a truly orthodox and conservative hatred of
abolitionists and fanatics; and they were, of course, universally
respected.

“Have you seen that rascal Jacobs?” said Tom Tuck to
his brother, as he entered their office one morning.

“Not yet,” replied Fred. “I will directly. I am in the
middle of a capital story, don't disturb me.”

“Fred you're a fool!” said Tom, as he jerked off his gloves
and threw them spitefully upon his desk, “throw away
those cursed books and attend to your business.”

[figure description] Page 127.[end figure description]

“Presently, presently,” replied Fred, “let me finish this
chapter first, or I shall lose the thread of the story.”

“You will lose your neck by your folly,” returned his brother,
“but I will see that you do me no harm. I'll dissolve
with you, and you shall starve, as you would without me.
You must see Jacobs this morning. Come!”

“Hush, hush,” replied Fred, “don't get excited; here
comes William.”

“Did you see young Tremlett?” enquired the senior brother
addressing a dwarfish looking boy who now entered the
office.

“Yes sir, I just seen him, and he sent you this note,” replied
the boy.

“Let me have it Sir,” said Tom, “and the next time I
send you on an errand sir, do you move yourself quicker sir,
do you hear, sir?”

The boy made no reply, because he was afraid.

“Read it, read,” said Fred.

“Dear T. I cannot send you the money this morning.
Your uncle is confined to his room, and my father is out of
town. You know I cannot sign a check.

Truly Yours, John Tremlett.

P. S. Tell Julia I shall not be able to see her this evening.”

“First rate!” exclaimed Fred. throwing down his book
“I'll go and find Jac—”

He was cut short by a glance from his brother's eye, who
turned to the boy and told him pleasantly to go to Skamps
and Company and ask them if they were a couple of
thousand over. “Now,” he said, turning to Fred as soon as
they had left the office; “start and don't let me see you
again 'til you have found him. But don't bring him here, tell
him I'll meet him at the old place.”

Notwithstanding the great anxiety of the elder Tuck to get
his brother off, the junior stopped to brush his whiskers and

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adjust his Madras cravat, which caused him to swear most
profanely. And even after Fred, had left the office, he returned
again for his cane, and remarked to Tom that “that
story was one of thrilling interest.”

So wide an interval having occurred since the close of our
last chapter, it may be proper to state that the firm of Tremlett
and Tuck was still in existence, although, in consequence of
the advanced age of the partners, their business had greatly
fallen off, but their wealth was supposed to be greater than
ever. John Tremlett had reached his twenty-first year, and
his manhood had more than fulfilled the promise of his youth,
the fondness of his father had increased as the one grew in
manliness and strength, and the other gradually gave way to
the encroachments of Time. They had never been parted
for a longer time than a day since their unlucky journey towards
Willow-mead, and the presence of the young man had
become almost essential to the existence of the feeble old
merchant, who had often been heard to declare that he could
not die happy if his darling boy should not be present to close
his eyes when death should summon him away, and he made
no secret of his intentions to leave the young man his entire
property. Mr. Tuck was still called the junior partner; but
the infirmities of age pressed more heavily upon him than
upon Mr. Tremlett. He was often confined to his room by
illness, and his friends all agreed that he was not long for
this world, a conclusion that required no great wisdom to
arrive at, seeing that he was turned of seventy. But notwithstanding
the perfect freedom with which his friends canvassed
the probabilities of his death, he would not listen to a word
on the subject himself, and whoever spoke to him about dying
once, incurred no risk of repeating the offence, for he would
not allow such people to enter his room. His enmity to his
two nephews and their mother continued unchanged, but
Julia Tuck was a constant, and welcome visitant at his bedside;
and although he was cross and quarrelsome to every

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body else, he always received her with apparent pleasure,
and her presence soothed him like a charm even in his most
fretful moods. Of course, the old gentleman's last will and
testament was a theme which his relations were never tired
of discussing, for no one, but his lawyer, knew in what manner
he intended to bequeath his great wealth. It was believed
by some that he would give a large part of it to his niece
who became therefor an object of their envy and calumny. It
was confidently asserted by others that he had appropriated
the bulk of his property to build a church; an assertion that
had no better foundation than the fact that he had never contributed
a copper in aid of such an object during his long
life. Others as confidently maintained that he was going to
found a magnificent public library, a supposition based upon
the same kind of grounds, since he was an acknowledged
hater of all books, excepting only cash-books and bank-books.
The feelings of his two nephews, however, were perfectly
serene on the subject, for they were well satisfied that their
uncle would not bequeath his money to them, let him remember
whomsoever he might in his will, and therefore it
would be improper, at this stage of our narrative, to impute
any sinister motives to the brothers because they manifested
great anxiety on learning that he was confined to his room
by illness.

The old gentleman sat in his rocking chair, wondering that
his niece had not called to see him, but afraid to send for her
lest it should be thought he was sick, and trying to drive his
thoughts away from himself by sending them on 'change
where they would not remain, but kept returning and hovering
about his heart which throbbed violently as though it
were trying to escape from his breast, when a tap was heard
at his chamber door, and the tapper being invited to come in,
the apparition of his nephew T. Jefferson Tuck presented itself
to his astonished eyes. The appearance, for Mr. Tuck

[figure description] Page 130.[end figure description]

thought for a moment that it was an unreal personage before
him, was accompanied by a middle aged gentleman in a
black bombazine suit, and a pair of gold mounted spectacles.
As soon as Mr. Tuck recovered the use of his tongue, the
functions of which were suspended for a while by astonishment,
he ordered the intruders to quit his sight without ceremony.
But his nephew meekly replied that he would if his
uncle would allow him to say one word first.

“Say on, and then go!” replied the old gentleman.

“It is a long time since I have had this pleasure,” said
Tom, “and I am grieved at heart that our first meeting after
so long an estrangement, should be in a sick room.”

“If you came here to talk about sick rooms stop there,”
said his uncle.

“Well, then, it shall not be about sickness, but about health
and happiness,” said his nephew, assuming a cheerful tone,
“I heard you were not well, and not knowing who your medical
attendant might be, my brother and I determined, even
at the risk of your displeasure, to recommend a very skillful
physician to you who has lately performed some very remarkable
cures. This is the gentleman. Allow me to introduce
Doctor Healman. Doctor this is my uncle; he will
no doubt be always happy to see you, because I am persuaded
that after this visit he will rarely have occasion for your
services. The gentleman in the black suit made a low bow,
and Mr. Tuck told him to sit down.

“And now, uncle,” said his nephew, “I will leave you,
and to show you how much more I respect your will than
my own wishes, this shall be the last time I will ever intrude
myself upon your presence,” and with these words this dutiful
nephew retired from his uncle's chamber with his face
buried in his white cambric pocket handkerchief.

“I don't know what to make of that fellow,” said Mr. Tuck
as his nephew closed the door.

“Make of him!” repeated the doctor, “he don't wequire

[figure description] Page 131.[end figure description]

anything to be made out on him at all. He is one of the
most wemarkable pious young men of the age. He is up to
all sorts of goodness.”

“But his brother Fred. is a confirmed rogue,” continued
the old gentleman.

“Pwehaps so,” said the doctor, “it is easily accounted for,
he weads too much.”

“Yes, yes, that is it. When I see him strutting through
the streets with one of those blue covered books under his
arm, I can hardly keep from beating him with my cane, doctor.
But, young men are different new, doctor, to what they
were when you and I were boys.”

“You may well say that,” replied the doctor.

“Did you ever have a case of beating of the heart in your
practice, doctor?” asked Mr. Tuck.

“I have made some wemarkable cures in that line,” replied
the doctor. “Are you affected after that sort?”

“Sometimes I feel such a terrible throbbing here,” said the
old man putting his hand to his heart; “and then I have such
a choking in my throat! O, Doctor, I would pay a good
round price to be cured of it. I don't mind expense, doctor.
I suppose it is not dangerous, but it is very annoying, because
it keeps me from my business.”

“Let me see your tongue, sir,” said the doctor. “O, ah!
it is nothing but a dewangement of the seckweting vessels. I
can cure it at wonst.”

“Do you really think that's it?” asked Mr. Tuck.

“Of course it is: I should wather guess I havn't dissected
a dead body evwy day for twenty years to be mistaken about
a disorder like yours.”

“Don't talk about dead bodies,” said Mr. Tuck, “it makes
me feel unpleasant, doctor, and I won't have it.”

“Don't be alarmed about that, the corpses that I cut up are
all poor people that couldn't afford to pay for a physician to
save their lives; paupers and such like that ain't of no consequence.”

[figure description] Page 132.[end figure description]

“Ah! its a great thing to be able to pay for a first rate physician.”
said Mr. Tuck, “I suppose, doctor, you have stu
died a good deal in your time?”

“O, a gwate deal, all the ancient authors.”

“And, pray, doctor, how long did you ever know a man to
live?” asked Mr. Tuck.

“Some one hundwed, and some a hundwed and fifty,” replied
the doctor; “it differs according to families. Some
families all die young, and some live to enormous ages.”

“If I could have my way,” said Mr. Tuck, “I would either
die very young, or live to about a hundred. I think that is a
very good age, and a man ought to be all ready to go then.
But to die at my age is dreadful. It is terrible to think of,
doctor, and I don't see why one could not live to a good old
age now, as well as in the time of Methusaleh.”

“So he might,” replied the doctor, “with pwoper tweatment,
if he was willing to live on woots, and other wight kinds of
food.”

“Ah, but, doctor,” said Mr. Tuck, “you know that physicians
themslves do not live longer than other men.”

“Of course not,” replied the doctor, “it's all according to
wule; don't blacksmith's horses always go unshod?”

“That's true, that's true,” said Mr. Tuck, “but pray tell
me, doctor, what is the right kind of food. I would live on
anything for the sake of living to a good old age.”

“Why, esckwlent woots, such as sassafawilla, and other
things. But I must go, I can't neglect my other patients.”

“Do you charge by the hour, or only so much for a visit?”
asked Mr. Tuck.

“Only two dollars a call, long or short; it's all the same to
me.”

“Of course you don't charge as much for a simple case
like mine as you do for a dangerous one?” said Mr.
Tuck.

“It's all one,” replied the doctor, “I suppose it would make

[figure description] Page 133.[end figure description]

no odds to you whether you died of a simple cold or of the
most invetwate complication of disordwes. It cost me as
much for a diploma to cure the measles as for the vewy worst
kind of cholewa.”

“Ah, that's very true, very true,” replied Mr. Tuck,
“if there were any real danger of dying, of course I shouldn't
object to the price.”

“Well Sir,” said the doctor, “I will go upon the pwinciple
of no cure no pay, like the quacks and patent doctors. But
it would be a shocking bad pwecedent for the wegular faculty
I must allow, for some patients will die on purpose under the
best tweatment. Here then,” continued the doctor, taking a
phial from his coat pocket, “is a bottle of my celebrated
elixir, the elixir of juvenility; Doctor Healman's cure for
disorders of the heart. It will cure you at wonst if you only
take enough of it.”

“Never fear, but I'll take enough of it,” said Mr. Tuck, as
he reached out his hand for the bottle.

“But stop,” said the doctor, putting the elixir back into his
coat pocket; “before I can pwescribe for you I must have a
solemn pwomise that you won't call in another physician, or
I'm o-p-h, I don't want anybody's botching laid at my door.”

“What do you mean by botching?” inquired Mr. Tuck.

“I mean, of course, if anybody should happen to kill you
by a wong pwescwiption it might injure my pwactice.”

“That's very true, very true,” said Mr. Tuck, “I pledge
you my word I will not call in another physician without
your permission.”

“Then, sir, I'll pwescribe for you with pleasure. Take
this bottle of elixir, stand it in a dark closet until nine o'clock
be careful not to let the light shine upon it, then take it, shake
the bottle thwee times up and down, and then swallow as much
of it as ever you can.”

“And do you really think I shall be well enough to attend
to business tomorrow?” asked Mr. Tuck.

[figure description] Page 134.[end figure description]

“Of course you will, but if you ain't I won't make no
charge to you.” The doctor stood for a moment and glanced
round the room, and then shook hands with his patient and
withdrew.

“That Tom is a good boy, after all,” said Mr. Tuck to himself,
“if I hadn't made my will I don't know but I would
leave him something. But it will be time enough for that
when I'm going to die. The doctor is rather a strange man
for a physician, but Tom is no fool, let him be what he may;
and I am very certain he wouldn't employ any but the very
best physicians—”

As the old man sat mumbling to himself, and rocking
gently in his chair, another rap was heard at the door and
Jeremiah Jernegan made his appearance.

“Ah, Jeremiah, is that you?” said Mr. Tuck, “come in,
come in, Jeremiah, and sit down, I am glad to see you, I want
to ask you a question. I thought it was Julia at first, I wonder
where she can be?”

“Are you well enough to sign a check?” asked Jeremiah,
sitting down by the old man's side. “Mr. Tremlett has not
come in town to day.”

“What do you mean, what do you mean?” replied the old
gentleman, “well enough, well enough, don't you see I am
not sick? You, are stupid Jeremiah!”

“I am very glad to hear you are not sick,” replied Jeremiah,
“but really you do not look well. Perhaps it's owing
to these dark curtains. I am glad you are well.”

“Yes, yes, it's the curtains, I'll have them taken down
when the weather gets warmer,” said Mr. Tuck, “tell me,
Jeremiah, did you ever hear of anybody's living so long that
they didn't care about living any longer?”

“All good men are willing to die when they are called,”
replied Jeremiah.

“Do you think it makes them more willing if they are
good? Who was it, Jeremiah, in the Bible, who went up to

[figure description] Page 135.[end figure description]

Heaven without dying at all? was it your namesake or
was it Isaiah? I forget about it.”

“Neither,” replied Jeremiah. “It was Elijah the Tishbite;
he was taken up into Heaven in a chariot of fire.”

“The Tishbite was a lucky fellow. I should like that way
myself.”

“If you would die like the Tishbite you must live like him,”
said Jeremiah. “But why would you ascend up into the
clouds, like the prophet, when the privilege is granted to you
of lying down in the grave with our Savior, who will himself
summon you when you are called to Judgment. Think,
could your soul endure the terrors of the whirl-wind and fire,
the chariot of Israel and the horsemen thereof? Would
you not rather part from this life in the way appointed for all
flesh?”

“Ah, Jeremiah, you have read the Bible until you are used
to it, but I cannot think of dying without a shudder, I feel
the worms creeping over me.”

“If we thought aright on the subject,” replied Jeremiah,
“death would never cause us to shudder. If we can bear
up under the load of life, we ought not to be dismayed at the
prospect of death, for one, we know, is heavy and grievous to
bear, while the other, we are assured, is calm, and pleasant
and unchangeable. Here we are banished from the presence
of God, there we shall stand before his throne. If the infant
were capable of thought and reflection there would be greater
cause for apprehension and dread when entering upon this
changeful life, than when leaving it for the next world which
is unchangeable and eternal. Who that knew of the afflictions
of this life, but would shudder at the thought af encountering
them? and yet we make merry when a child is
born into the world, but we follow him with tears when he is
taken from it.”

“Stop, stop,” exclaimed Mr. Tuck, “say no more about
dying, but tell me about business. Don't tell any body that I

[figure description] Page 136.[end figure description]

am sick. I shall be on 'change to-morrow. I don't like to be
questioned about my health, but I will tell you, Jeremiah, because
you don't ask questions, I have got a terrible beating of
my heart; it almost chokes me at times; but you don't think
it's dangerous, Jeremiah?”

“Indeed, I have but little knowledge of diseases,” replied
Jeremiah, “but I supposed that diseases of the heart were
dangerous.”

“Yes, yes,” replied Mr. Tuck, “diseases of the heart may
be, but mine Jeremiah, is only a beating. If the heart didn't
beat you know a man would die.”

“Very true,” replied Jeremiah, “perhaps I am wrong.
but—never mind, never mind, Jeremiah, I know what you
are going to say. You needn't say it. I understand. Are
there any arrivals this morning, and what's the news?”

“The Susan has arrived from Rio, and coffee has advanced
half a cent,” replied Jeremiah.

“Good, good!” ejaculated the old gentleman. “A half a
cent, that's good. Is she full? Has she got in an entire
cargo?”

“Yes sir,” said Jeremiah, “an entire cargo of hides.”

“Hides!” exclaimed the merchant, “and coffee advanced
half a cent; that's bad, Jeremiah, very bad. Reach me my
port folio and let me sign the check. There go, go. Don't
say anything more, you make me nervous. My heart beats
worse than ever.”

“Jeremiah folded the check and left the chamber slowly.
He would gladly have remained to talk to the old gentleman
about the great concern of his soul, but he was afraid of
defeating his object by too much zeal. Once he turned
back, hesitated for a moment, and then returned to the
counting room. His indecision was ever after a source of
great grief to him.

No sooner was the old gentleman again left alone than he
wished that somebody was near him. His niece had more

[figure description] Page 137.[end figure description]

before neglected him so long, and he listened eagerly for the
sound of her step on the stairs. But the day wore heavily
away, and she came not. He wondered at her absence, but
was afraid to send for her. He could expect no one beside
her to visit him; and he tried to divert his mind by thinking of
his business, but thoughts of death would rise up in his mind.
Gaunt spectres that only appeared more terrifying and distinct
when he closed his eyes, trying in vain to shut them out of
his mind. What could he do! Even his bed looked to him
like a grave; it had a green coverlid, and the back of the
chairs were in shape like tombstones. It was strange that he
had never noticed these things before, but they now appeared to
him with a terrible distinctness. His mother's portrait was
hung in the room and every time he glanced at it he remembered
that she was lying in her grave, and that he must soon
be buried by her side. He walked to his book-case and took
up a volume hoping to amuse himself with its contents. He
turned to the title page; it was the “Holy Living and Dying,”
and it fell like lead from his hands. But another lay near
it. It was Julia's album that she had left there the day before.
He opened it, and seeing young Tremlett's writing,
curiosity tempted him to read: it was a little poem:


Oft have I joined in mirth and glee,
When many a weary heart was sighing,
And laughed, because I could not see
That all around the dead were lying.
And others now in frolic and glee,
Their festal hours with mirth are keeping
Who soon by sorrow touched, like me,
Beside some loved one may be weeping.
O! earth and air, and sea are full
Of messengers of death—

He could read no more, and he closed the book. He knew
that the Bible was full of passages to remind him of death
and he would not open it although it, almost seemed to invite

[figure description] Page 138.[end figure description]

him to do so. He turned from the book-case and walked to
the window to beguile his thoughts by watching the passers
by; but he had not stood there a minute, when two men came
along bearing an empty coffin upon their shoulders. He
turned his head quickly away but not until he had discerned
that it was about his own measure. To add to his gloomy
feelings it was a dull, dark day, and the wind moaned drearily
through the blinds of his windows. His heart beat violently
and he sank down in his chair and tried to compose his
thoughts, but in vain. When his housekeeper came into the
room he detained her in conversation as long as he could, but
she seemed in a hurry to leave him.

At last it was dark, and he ordered his shutters to be closed
and a bright light placed upon his table. But it cast fearful
shadows on the wall. His servant brought in the evening
paper. He opened it and the first item of intelligence that
met his eye, was the death of an old acquaintance from a
disease of the heart. He threw down the paper and involuntarily
applied his hand to his left side. His heart throbbed as
though it would burst. He was alarmed and yet he was
afraid to send for a physician, remembering his promise to
Doctor Healman. Wearied and exhausted at last he fell into
a slight doze, but he was soon aroused from it by the hail
driving against his windows. It had a strange sound to him;
like stones rattling on a coffin when the first shovel full is
thrown in to fill up a grave. A cold sweat stood upon his
forehead, and the blood rushed furiously into his heart. He
tried to reason himself out of his fears. What could they
mean? Why had not the same sights and sounds produced
such an effect on him before? He had seen and heard them
a thousand times. He was in the daily habit of passing an
undertaker's shop where coffins stood round like boxes of merchandise,
but they had never awakened a gloomy thought in
his mind. His mother's picture had been hanging many
years in his chamber; and, although he had often times

[figure description] Page 139.[end figure description]

dropped a tear when gazing upon her mild countenance, it
had never before suggested a thought of death, and why
should it now? Scarcely conscious of what he was doing
he opened his writing desk and took out his will. He remembered
all the revengeful thoughts that were warring in
his mind when he wrote it, and how he anticipated the disappointment
and chagrin of his relatives when they should
know its terms; and how he chuckled over the imaginary
anger of his brother's widow and her two sons, and be wondered
that he should have been moved by such feelings while
engaged in such a solemn duty. But he soon grew weary
of his will, and he tried to get rid of the load that oppressed
him by pacing the chamber floor. Slowly and heavily the
hours dropped along, but scarcely were they gone than they
seemed to have flown like lightning. By and by the clock
struck nine. It was the appointed hour for taking the elixir.
He drew the phial from the dark corner in which he had
placed it, and remembering the injunction of the doctor shook
it three times, placed it to his mouth with trembling hands,
and swallowed its entire contents.

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