his hands and wept. But he sat quietly looking at his companions--until
Mr. Tray said,

"Gabriel, I want you to copy this invoice."

And Gabriel was a school-boy no longer.




CHAPTER XVI.

PHILOSOPHY.


Abel Newt believed in his lucky star. He had managed Uncle
Savory--couldn't he manage the world?

"My son," said Mr. Boniface Newt, "you are now about to begin the
world." (Begin? thought Abel.) "You are now coming into my house as
a merchant. In this world we must do the best we can. It is a great
pity that men are not considerate, and all that. But they are not. They
are selfish. You must take them as you find them. _You_, my son, think
they are all honest and good."--Do I? quoth son, in his soul.--"It is
the bitter task of experience to undeceive youth from its romantic
dreams. As a rule, Abel, men are rascals; that is to say, they pursue
their own interests. How sad! True; how sad! Where was I? Oh! men are
scamps--with some exceptions; but you must go by the rule. Life is a
scrub-race--melancholy, Abel, but true. I talk plainly to you, but I
do it for your good. If we were all angels, things would be different.