est the slightest interest in the business; and, above
all, you are living at a frightfully ruinous rate! Yes, Sir, ruinous!
How do you suppose I can pay, or that the business can pay, for such
extravagance?"

Abel smoked calmly during this energetic discourse, and blew little rings
from his mouth, which he watched with interest as they melted in the air.

"Certain things are inevitable, father."

His parent, frowning and angry, growled at him as he made this remark,
and muttered,

"Well, suppose they are."

"Now, father," replied his son, with great composure, "let us proceed
calmly. Why should we pretend not to see what is perfectly plain?
Business nowadays proceeds by credit. Credit is based upon something, or
the show of something. It is represented by a bank-bill. Here now--" And
he opened his purse leisurely and drew out a five-dollar note of the Bank
of New York, "here is a promise to pay five dollars--in gold or silver,
of course. Do you suppose that the Bank of New York has gold and silver
enough to pay all those promises it has issued? Of course not."

Abel knocked off the ash from his cigar, and took a long contemplative
whiff, as if he were about making a plunge into views even more profound.
Mr. Newt, half pleased with the show of philosophy, listened with less
frowning brows.

"Well, now, if by some hocus-pocus the Bank of New York hadn't a cent in
coin at this moment, it could redeem the few claims that might be made
upon it by borrowing, could it not?"

Mr. Newt shook his head affirmatively.

"And, in fine, if it were entirely bankrupt, it could still do a
tremendous business for a very considerable time, could it not?"

Mr. Newt assented.

"And the managers, who knew it to be so, would have plenty of time to get
off before an explosion, if they wanted to?"

"Abel, what do you mean?" inquired his father.

The young man was still placidly blowing rings of smoke from his mouth,
and answered:

"Nothing terrible. Don't be alarmed. It is only an illustration of the
practical value of credit, showing how it covers a retreat, so to speak.
Do you see the moral, father?"

"No; certainly not. I see no moral at all."

"Why, suppose that nobody wanted to retreat, but that the Bank was only
to be carried over a dangerous place, then credit is a bridge, isn't it?
If it were out of money, it could live upon its credit until it got the
money back again."

"Clearly," answered Mr. Newt.

"And if it