mercantile concern.  It seems to require—­at least it takes—­all his attention.  He is absorbed in it.  And, if you repair to his store or office at any hour of the day, you can scarcely see him,—­not at all,—­unless it be on some errand connected with his business, or with the business of some office he holds, and which must be attended to; and even in these matters you will find him restless.  He attends to you so far as to hear your errand; and what then?  Why, if it will require any length of time, he says:  “I am very busy at this moment, I can’t possibly attend to it to-day; will you call to-morrow?  I may then have more leisure.”  Well, you agree for to-morrow.  “Please name the hour,” you say.  He replies—­“I can’t name any hour; but call, say after twelve o’clock, and I will catch a moment, if I can, to talk over the business.”

Now, that merchant is not to blame for putting you off.  His business calls are so many and so complex, that he scarcely knows which way to turn, nor what calculations to make.  The real difficulty is, he has undertaken too much; his plans are too vast; his “irons,” as they say, are too many.

This is the morning aspect of affairs.  Watch that merchant during the day,—­will you find things essentially different?  The morning, which is dark and cloudy and foggy, is sometimes followed by a clear, bright, beautiful day.  The mists at length clear off, the clouds roll away, and a glorious sun shines out broadly to gladden the face of all nature.  Not so with the modern man of business.  It is labor, whirl, toil, all the day, from the hour of breakfast till night puts an end to the active, hurrying concerns of all men.  There is no bright, cheerful, peaceful day to him.  Scarcely has he time to eat—­never to enjoy his dinner,—­that must be finished in the shortest possible time:  often at some restaurant, rather than with his family.  Not one member of that does he see from the time he leaves the breakfast table till night, dark night has stretched out her curtain over all things.

Let us go home with him, and see how the evening passes.

His residence, from his place of business, perchance, is a mile or two distant—­may be some fifteen or twenty, in which latter case he takes the evening train of cars.  In either case he arrives home only at the setting in of the evening shades.  How pleasant the release from the noise and confusion of the city! or, if he resides within the city, how pleasant in shutting his door, as he enters his dwelling, to shut out the thoughts and cares of business!  His tea is soon ready, and for a little time he gives himself up to the comforts of home.  His wife welcomes him, his children may be hanging upon him, and he realizes something of the joys of domestic life!