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!

Scarcely, however, is supper ended, before it occurs to him that there
is a meeting of such a committee, or such an insurance company, to which
he belongs, and the hour is at hand, and he _must_ go. And he hies away,
and in some business on hand he becomes absorbed till the hours of nine,
ten, or eleven, possibly twelve o'clock. He returns again to his home,
wearied with the toils of the day,--his wife possibly, but certainly his
children, have retired,--and he lays his aching head upon his pillow to
catch some few hours of rest, and with the morning light to go through