But one honorable gentleman informed the Commons that “distress had vanished from the land,"* and in addressing the throne acknowledged a novel embarrassment:  “Such,” said he, “is the general prosperity of the country, that I feel at a loss how to proceed; whether to give precedence to our agriculture, which is the main support of the country, to our manufactures, which have increased to an unexampled extent, or to our commerce, which distributes them to the ends of the earth, finds daily new outlets for their distribution, and new sources of national wealth and prosperity.”

* “The poor ye shall have always with you.”—­Chimerical Evangelist.

Our old bank did not profit by the golden shower.  Mr. Hardie was old, too, and the cautious and steady habits of forty years were not to be shaken readily.  He declined shares, refused innumerable discounts, and loans upon scrip and invoices, and, in short, was behind the time.  His bank came to be denounced as a clog on commerce.  Two new banks were set up in the town to oil the wheels of adventure, on which he was a drag, and Hardie fell out of the game.

He was not so old or cold as to be beyond the reach of mortification, and these things stung him.  One day he said fretfully to old Skinner, “It is hardly worth our while to take down the shutters now, for anything we do.”

One afternoon two of his best customers, who were now up to their chins in shares, came and solicited a heavy loan on their joint personal security.  Hardie declined.  The gentlemen went out.  Young Skinner watched them, and told his father they went into the new bank, stayed there a considerable time, and came out looking joyous.  Old Skinner told Mr. Hardie.  The old gentleman began at last to doubt himself and his system.

“The bank would last my time,” said he, “but I must think of my son.  I have seen many a good business die out because the merchant could not keep up with the times; and here they are inviting me to be director in two of their companies—­good mercantile names below me.  It is very flattering.  I’ll write to Dick.  It is just he should have a voice; but, dear heart! at his age we know beforehand he will be for galloping faster than the rest.  Well, his old father is alive to curb him.”

It was always the ambition of Mr. Richard Hardie to be an accomplished financier.  For some years past he had studied money at home and abroad—­scientifically.  His father’s connection had gained him a footing in several large establishments abroad, and there he sat and worked en amateur as hard as a clerk.  This zeal and diligence in a young man of independent means soon established him in the confidence of the chiefs, who told him many a secret.  He was now in a great London bank, pursuing similar studies, practical and theoretical.