friend; but if it turns out that you have come as a customer,
people will look a little disappointed. It is rather
inconsiderate of you to make such demands out of season. Winter
is not exactly the time for that sort of thing. It seems rather
to violate the conditions of the truce. Could you not postpone
the affair till next July? Every country has its customs; I
observe that in some places, New York for instance, the
shopkeepers seem rather to enjoy a "field-day" when the sun and
the customers are out. In Oldport, on the contrary, men's spirits
droop at such times, and they go through their business sadly.
They force themselves to it during the summer, perhaps,--for one
must make some sacrifices,--but in winter it is inappropriate as
strawberries and cream.

The same spirit of repose pervades the streets. Nobody ever looks
in a hurry, or as if an hour's delay would affect the thing in
hand. The nearest approach to a mob is when some stranger,
thinking himself late for the train (as if the thing were
possible), is tempted to run a few steps along the sidewalk. On
such an occasion I have seen doors open, and heads thrust out.
But ordinarily even the physicians drive slowly, as if they
wished to disguise their profession, or to soothe the nerves of
some patient who may be gazing from a window.

Yet they are not to be censured, since Death, their antagonist,
here drives slowly too. The number of the aged among us is
surprising, and explains some phenomena otherwise strange. You
will notice, for instance, that there are no posts before the
houses in Oldport to which horses may be tied. Fashionable
visitors might infer that every horse is supposed to be attended