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“MY dear boy,” said old Mr. Tremlett, addressing his son
who sat by his bed-side; “it grieves me to see you
weep, I meant nothing by my remarks, but that the time is at
hand when you and I must part, on this earth, at least. This
sudden death of my partner cannot but remind me that I have
not long to remain with you, and the little time that we may
be allowed to live in each other's society must not be spent in
tears. Whenever I shall be called I will cheerfully go, and
when I close my eyes upon the world there will be no one
but you, for whom I would stay.”

“O, my father, my more than father,” replied the young
man, seizing the old merchant's hand and bathing it with his
tears, “how can I live when you are gone! There will be
none to care for me then, and I shall be more destitute than I
was when you took me from my loveless home, and taught
me the true worth of friendship and virtue. I have lived in
the hope that some opportunity would be allowed me of proving
to you that I have not been a thoughtless and ungrateful
recipient of your goodness.”

“You will offend me by such talk,” replied the old gentleman,
“I have never doubted your affection or your gratitude
and it is I and not you, who am the debtor. I bless God that
he gave you to me in my old age, in my helpless and

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decrepid condition to sweeten my cup of life at a time when I was
least able to endure its biterness. You are young, and will,
I hope, see many years of happiness when I am gone. The
time may seem remote to you and long and weary to look
ahead to the period at which I am arrived; but you view it
through an inverted telescope. I look back to your age and it
seems scarce a moment of time since I occupied the spot where
you now stand. It matters not when we lie down to sleep our
last sleep how long we may have moved about upon the earth
nor whether we die, as I shall die, the nominal possessor of
wealth, or indebted to the charity of our neighbor for the pallet
on which we expire. I feel this now. Perhaps it would have
been better had I felt it sooner. I am not ashamed of my
wealth, for as far as I know it has been acquired without harm
to others. But I sometimes think I had no right to keep what
I could not use myself, yet it is a consolation to know, that
you will never know the cruel struggles and harrassing fears
which I endured in the early part of my life. To think of
this has long been one of my pleasures. With some trifling
exceptions, I shall leave you the whole of my property. It
will be sufficient for all your wants, and there will be small
inducements for you to enter into the tormenting pursuits of
business. But if it should be your desire to do so, I have no
wish to restrain you. I hope, however, that you will be
moved by higher aims in employing your time and your
money than a wish to increase your fortune.

“The life of a merchant must be at best unsatisfactory and
humiliating to a generous mind. It is the most purely selfish
and least ennobling of all human pursuits, because it is the
most mercenary. The lowest mechanic and the smallest cultivator
of the soil aim at higher things, and must of necessity
commune more closely with God and Nature. I have been
amazed, even in my narrow historical researches, to find so
few of the eminent men of the world taken from the mercantile
profession. It is true that there have been some great

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men who were merchants. But they are few. And it is
true also that the opportunities of a merchant for doing good
are greater than the opportunities of other men, yet when
they are improved they are episodes in his business and not
necessary to it.

“I did myself a great wrong by neglecting to marry, when I
was young, from prudential motives; it was a deplorable mistake
and deplorably I have suffered for it; all the sweets of life
have been untasted by me, while I have fed upon its bitterest
food. You, my dear boy will have no such false restraints as
I supposed it necessary to impose upon myself. Be not therefore
self-debarred from life's greatest pleasures. There is
doubtless unhappiness even in the marriage state, and it must
have its drawbacks as all earthly things have; but if you
cannot find happiness there you will look for it in vain, I
fear, elsewhere.”

The young man had fallen on his knees by the bed-side
of the old merchant, but he could only reply to his admonitions
by kissing his hand and bathing it in tears.

It was early in the morning. The intelligence of Mr.
Tuck's death had just been brought to Mr. Tremlett, who
was greatly affected thereby, although it was an event for
which he was by no means unprepared, for he knew that his
partner had long suffered from a diseased heart, and that his
death must be sudden. But they had been associated in business
so long, and had learned so well to accomodate themselves
to each others' whims, leaning on each others' strong
points, and supporting each other in their weak ones, that he
felt as though a part of himself had been torn away, and that
he could not remain long behind thus deprived of his accustomed
help. And he looked back through the long years of
toil and perplexity which he had spent, of anxiety and thriftless
hope, which when satisfied brought no satisfaction, and
he was overpowered at the littleness of the profit which had
accrued to him when he struck a hasty balance in his mind

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and found that his outlay of time and strength, had brought
him so poor a recompense as dollars and cents, that had not
the power of soothing his mind with one consolotary reflection.
There lay his gains secured in some vault of ponderous
granite blocks, clamped together with iron bars, and watched
over by a hireling sentinel, as though they were some terrible
evil whose escape would desolate the world, and not the
bits of precious metal whose presence in the house of misery
and want would diffuse smiles and health and happiness; and
there lay as palpable to his mind, the wasted years of his half
century of responsible existence; as he sccanned their worth
he could find but little among them which seemed at all to
compensate for their cost.

While the old merchant lay indulging himself in these reflections,
and his adopted son knelt silently by his bed-side, a
tap was heard at the door, and Jeremiah Jernegan walked in.

Young Tremlett rose hastily from his knees and seated
himself upon the bed-side, and the old man looked inquisitively
at the intruder, who was about to withdraw without
speaking a word, when Mr. Tremlett called him back.

“Sit down, Jeremiah,” said Mr. Tremlett; “we have no
secrets that you may not know. We have all labored together
with poor Mr. Tuck, and together we must all weep
for him. Well, he was a sincere man; and I believe Jeremiah,
an honest merchant. Do you not think he was?”

“I never knew him to do a dishonest act,” replied Jeremiah,
“but far be it from me to judge of any man, but above all
of the dead. Perhaps I was the last person who saw him
alive, but I fear—”

“Fear what?” said Mr. Tremlett, raising himself; “fear
what, Jeremiah? Do you fear that my partner is not happy
now? that he died without repentance Jeremiah?”

“No, those are fears that would not become me?” said
Jeremiah, “but, perhaps I had better not tell what were my
fears.”

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“You must tell, Jeremiah,” said Young Tremlett, “your
words have excited a curiosity in my father which you must
satisfy, or he will indulge in harrassing doubts, let us know
what it is you were going to say? You need fear nothing
from us, or if you do not care to speak before me I will retire.”

“No, no,” replied Jeremiah, “I am glad you are here, for
although I came expressely to speak with your father, my
errand could not be completed without seeing you. I was
going to say that I fear I was not the last person who saw
Mr. Tuck alive.”

“Nothing more likely,” said Mr. Tremlett, “it could be
easily ascertained from the housekeeper; but it is a matter of
little moment; for myself I wish that I could have seen him
again, but I cannot now bring myself to look upon him. I
shall feel more composed before long.”

“It matters little to him, now,” said Jeremiah, “but as I
said before I have fears that I hardly know how to name.”

“You puzzle me,” said Mr. Tremlett, “speak out, without
fear, that I may know what you mean.”

“I fear,” said Jeremiah, gazing around him, “that he died
by violence.”

“By violence!” said the old man as his frame shook with
terror, “how by violence? were there any marks upon his
person?”

“No,” said Jeremiah; “and that is why I am so fearful
of speaking my thoughts. But I will relate to you my
reasons, and perhaps you will think I am easily alarmed.
But God knows that I would not mistrust a living soul of so
wicked an intent, yet I have seen so much of depravity and
selfishness that I can hardly doubt that anything that is wicked
may not be true.”

“Go on, go on,” said young Tremlett impatiently.

“Yesterday morning,” said Jeremiah, “I had occasion to
call at Mr. Tuck's house to get a cheek signed, and I found

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the old gentleman in his room, very evidently quite ill, although
he would not acknowledge it. He spoke to me about
dying and I was glad of an opportunity, without seeming to
seek it myself, of talking with him on the subject; but when
I attempted to improve the occasion, he grew impatient, and
as I perceived that my remarks disturbed him, I left him, but
with great uneasiness of mind; for I had a presentiment
that his time was at hand. It so happened that my cash-book
did not balance at night when I made up my accounts, and
I was detained in the office until a very late hour in the evening
before I discovered the error; so, after I had closed the
door of the counting room, on my way home I again thought
of poor Mr. Tuck, and I determined to call upon him again,
to speak with him once more, if he should be in a mood to
listen to me. It was very dark and a drizzly rain beat in my
face when I stepped up to the front door of his house, and
just as I was going to pull the bell handle, the door opened,
and a person came hastily out wrapped in a cloak. I supposed
that it must be the physician, and I said, `Doctor.'
`Well?' replied the person; `Is Mr. Tuck better?' I asked;
`Not wemarkable,' replied the doctor; `will it do for me to
see him?' I asked further, for I wished to hear the doctor's
voice again;' `act your own discwetion,' he replied, and a
footstep was heard in the hall at that moment, when the doctor
muffled his cloak about him and walked rapidly down
the street. I would have followed him, but the house-keeper
came to the door in great alarm, and seeing me requested
me to come in as she had heard somebody in the house. I
questioned her about the doctor, and she said that no doctor
had been there. I told her that I met him at the door upon
which she grew frightened and we went up to Mr. Tuck's
chamber together where we found the poor gentleman dead
in his chair, with some papers in his hand. The person
whom I met at the door I am very certain was the same man
who robbed me of my watch, when we were on our way

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to Willow-mead together,” he said, turning to young Tremlett.

“I remember it perfectly well,” said John, “and I think I
should know the person if I were to see him again. I am
certain that I should recognise him by his voice.”

“It was by that alone which I knew him;” said Jeremiah,
“for it was too dark to see his face.”

“And was not his name Washington Mortimer, or something
like it?” asked John.

“G. Washington Mortimer;” replied Jeremiah, “here is
the very receipt which he gave me for the watch. I have
preserved it ever since, amongst my papers, and this morning
I found it.”

“There must be something in this,” said Mr. Tremlett,
“but I cannot see what. You had better send the oldest of
the two Tucks to me and I will put him on the track to scent
it out, but in the mean time Jeremiah, and you, my son, do
not whisper a word of this to any one.”

“I freely forgive the man, if it be him who took my
watch,” said Jeremiah, “but I would be glad to discover him,
nevertheless, for you know John, that Hopely, of whom
I borrowed it, always pretended that he did not believe our
story.”

“I had forgotten it,” said John smiling faintly, “but you
need have no alarm about Hopley, for you know he is now
serving out his time in prison, for an offence which no one
doubted his being guilty of.”

“That is true indeed,” replied Jeremiah, “but perhaps
it would be some consolation to him to know that we
were not as bad as he thought us, even in his own degradation.”

“Perhaps so,” said young Tremlett, “but I doubt the reverse
would be more consoling to him.”

“Leave me now,” said the old gentleman, “that I may
compose my thoughts, and prepare myself for the part I must

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perform; in the afternoon I must see you both again. And
you, Jeremiah, arrange your accounts as usual, and bring me
your checks to sign for the day's payments.”

Jeremiah and John then withdrew and left the old merchant
to his contemplations.

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