nterfere in such matters, and that for
his part he would be quite satisfied to let anybody else who wanted it
have the blessing if he only got the money." And so it pleased God to
give John Webster much money without a blessing.

The immediate result was that he fell in love with it, and, following
the natural laws attached to that vehement passion, he hugged it to his
bosom, became blind to everything else, and gave himself entirely up to
it with a self-denying devotion that robbed him of much of his natural
rest, of nearly all his graces, and most of his happiness--leaving him
with no hope in this world, save that of increasing his stores of money,
and with no hope for the world to come at all.

The abode of Mr Webster's soul was a dingy little office with dirty
little windows, a miserable little fireplace, and filthy little chairs
and tables--all which were quite in keeping with the little occupant of
the place. The abode of his body was a palatial residence in the
suburbs of the city. Although Mr Webster's soul was little, his body
was large--much too large indeed for the jewel which it enshrined, and
which was so terribly knocked about inside its large casket that its
usual position was awry, and it never managed to become upright by any
chance whatever.

To the former abode Mr Webster went, body and soul, one dark November
morning. Having seated himself before his desk, he threw himself back
in his chair and began to open his letters--gazing with a placid smile,
as he did so, at the portrait of his deceased wife's father--a very
wealthy old gentleman--which hung over the fireplace.

We omitted to mention, by the way, that Mr Webster had once been
married. This trifling little event of his life occurred when he was
about forty-eight years of age, and was a mercantile transaction of an
extremely successful kind, inasmuch as it had brought him, after
deducting lawyers' fees, stamps, duties, lost time in courtship,
wedding-tour expenses, doctor's fees, deathbed expenses, etcetera, a
clear profit of sixty thousand pounds. To be sure there were also the
additional expenses of four years of married life, and the permanent
board, lodging, and education of a little daughter; but, all things
considered, these were scarcely worth speaking of; and in regard to the
daughter--Annie by name--she would in time become a marketable
commodity, which might, if judiciously disposed of, turn in a
considerable profit, besides