Hoffman sat down again in troubled surprise, saying,

“Have you got to the end?”

“Not yet,” replied his companion.

“Very well.  Go on.”

“I often notice you with candies, or other confections; and you are, sometimes, quite free in sharing them with your friends.  Burnt almonds, sugar almonds, Jim Crow’s candied fruits, macaroons, etc.  These are not to be had for nothing; and besides their cost they are a positive injury to the stomach.  You, of course, know to what extent you indulge this weakness of appetite.  Shall we say that it costs an average of ten cents a day?”

“Add fruit, in and out of season, and call it fifteen cents,” replied Hoffman.

“Very well.  For three hundred days this will give another large sum—­forty-five dollars?”

“Anything more?” said Hoffman in a subdued, helpless kind of way, like one lying prostrate from a sudden blow.

“I’ve seen you driving out occasionally; sometimes on Sunday.  And, by the way, I think you generally take an excursion on Sunday. over to Staten Island, or to Hoboken, or up the river, or—­but no matter where; you go about and spend money on the Sabbath day.  How much does all this cost?  A dollar a week?  Seventy-five cents?  Fifty cents?  We are after the exact figures as near as maybe.  What does it cost for drives and excursions, and their spice of refreshment?”

“Say thirty dollars a year.”

“Thirty dollars, then, we will call it.  And here let us close, in order to review the ground over which we have been travelling.  All those various expenses, not one of which is for things essential to health, comfort, or happiness, but rather for their destruction, amount to the annual sum of four hundred and two dollars sixty cents,—­you can go over the figures for yourself.  Add to this three hundred and eighty-four dollars, the cost of boarding and clothing, and you swell the aggregate to nearly eight hundred dollars; and your salary is but six hundred!”

A long silence followed.

“I am amazed, confounded!” said Hoffman, resting his head between his hands, as he leaned on the table at which they were sitting.  “And not only amazed and confounded,” he went on, “but humiliated, ashamed!  Was I a blind fool that I did not see it myself?  Had I forgotten my multiplication table?”

“You are like hundreds—­nay, thousands,” replied the friend, “to whom a sixpence, a shilling, or even a dollar spent daily has a very insignificant look; and who never stop to think that sixpence a day amounts to over twenty dollars in a year; a shilling a day to over forty; and a dollar a day to three hundred and sixty-five.  We cannot waste our money in trifles, and yet have it to spend for substantial benefits.  The cigars you smoked in the past year; the games of billiards you played; the ale and oysters, cakes, confections, and fruit consumed; the rides in cars and stages; the drives and Sunday excursions,