not trade off my single
blessedness yet; at least, there's time enough, there's women enough;
I'm young, hale, hearty, in the prime of life; no, I'll not give up the
ship to woman yet."

Another ten years rolled along, and the thing turned up in the retired
merchant's mind again--he was now sixty, and one, at least, of the
objections to his entering the wedded state, removed--for a man at sixty
is scarcely too young to marry, surely.

"Ah, it's all up," quoth Job Carson. "I'm spoiled now. I've had my own
way so long, I could not think of surrendering to petticoats, turning
my house into a nursery, and turning my back on the joys, quiet and
comforts of bachelorhood. No, no, Job Carson--matrimony be hanged.
You'll none of it." And so ten years more passed--now age and luxury do
their work.

"O, that infernal twinge in my toe. _O_, there it is again--hang the
goat, it can't be gout. Dr. Bleedem swears I'm getting the gout.
Blockhead--none of my kith or kin ever had such an infernal complaint.
O, ah-h-h, that infernal window must be sand-bagged, given me this pain
in the back, and--Banquo! Where the deuce is that nigger--Banquo-o-o!"

"Yis, massa, here I is," said a good-natured, fat, black and
sleek-looking old darkey, poking his shining, grinning face into the old
gentleman's study, sitting, playing or smoking room.

"Here you are? Where? You black sarpint, come here; go to Jackplane, the
carpenter, and tell him to come here and make my sashes tight, d'ye
hear?"

"Yis, massa, dem's 'em; I'se off."

"No, you ain't--come here, Banquo, you woolly son of Congo, you; go open
my liquor case, bring the brandy and some cool water. There, now clear
yourself."

"Yis, massa, I'se gone, dis time--"

"No, you ain't, come back; go to old Joe Winepipes, and tell him I send
my compliments to him, and if he wants to continue that game of chess,
let him come over this afternoon, d'ye hear?"

"Yis, massa, dem's 'em, I'se gone dis time--_shuah!_"

"Well, away with you."

Old Job Carson was yet a rugged looking old gentleman. He had survived
nearly all his "blood, kith and kin;" his sister had paid the last debt
of nature some months before, and in hopes of finding some one to fill
her station, in his domestic concerns, his advertisement had appeared
in the _Weekly Bulletin_.

"Ah, me, it's no use crying about spilt milk," sighed the old gent over
his glass. "I suppose I've been a fool; out-lived everybody, everything
usefu