though early, there is something on his brow which indicates care and
anxiety. And yet I think no one of his family is sick, nor do I know of
any of his friends who are sick. I have seen that man out thus early so
often, and hurrying at just that pace, that I suspect, after all, he is
on his way to his place of business. That, doubtless, is the whole
secret. He is engaged in a large 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