her account without feelin' 't I was doin'
somethin' for my little boy.

"The's a good many diff'rent sorts an' kinds o' sorro'," he said, after
a moment, "that's in some ways kind o' kin to each other, but I guess
losin' a child 's a specie by itself. Of course I passed the achin',
smartin' point years ago, but it's somethin' you can't fergit--that is,
you can't help feelin' about it, because it ain't only what the child
_was_ to you, but what you keep thinkin' he'd 'a' ben growin' more an'
more to _be_ to you. When I lost my little boy I didn't only lose him as
he was, but I ben losin' him over an' agin all these years. What he'd
'a' ben when he was _so_ old; an' what when he'd got to be a big boy;
an' what he'd 'a' ben when he went mebbe to collidge; an' what he'd 'a'
ben afterward, an' up to _now_. Of course the times when a man stuffs
his face down into the pillers nights, passes, after a while; but while
the's some sorro's that the happenin' o' things helps ye to fergit, I
guess the's some that the happenin' o' things keeps ye rememberin', an'
losin' a child 's one on 'em."

CHAPTER XLI.

It was the latter part of John's fifth winter in Homeville. The business
of the office had largely increased. The new manufactories which had
been established did their banking with Mr. Harum, and the older
concerns, including nearly all the merchants in the village, had
transferred their accounts from Syrchester banks to David's. The callow
Hopkins had fledged and developed into a competent all-'round man, able
to do anything in the office, and there was a new "skeezicks"
discharging Peleg's former functions. Considerable impetus had been
given to the business of the town by the new road whose rails had been
laid the previous summer. There had been a strong and acrimonious
controversy over the route which the road should take into and through
the village. There was the party of the "nabobs" (as they were
characterized by Mr. Harum) and their following, and the party of the
"village people," and the former had carried their point; but now the
road was an accomplished fact, and most of the bitterness which had been
engendered had died away. Yet the struggle was still matter for talk.

"Did I ever tell you," said David, as he and his cashier were sitting in
the rear room of the bank, "how Lawyer Staples come to switch round in
that there railroad jangle last spring?"

"I remember," said John, "that you told me he had d