n organ-grinder came into the street below. He
played the serenade from `Trovatore' and the familiar notes brought
back visions of old days and old delights, when the successful writer
wore good clothes and sat at operas, when he looked into sweet eyes and
talked of Italian airs, when his future appeared all a succession of
bright scenery and joyous acts, without any provision for a
drop-curtain. And as my ear listened, and my mind wandered in this
happy retrospect, my every faculty seemed exalted, and, without any
thought upon the matter, I ground points upon my pins so fine, so
regular, and so smooth that they would have pierced with ease the
leather of a boot, or slipped, without abrasion, among the finest
threads of rare old lace. When the organ stopped, and I fell back into
my real world of cobwebs and mustiness, I gazed upon the pins I had
just ground, and, without a moment's hesitation, I threw them into the
street, and reported the lot as spoiled. This cost me a little money,
but it saved me my livelihood."

After a few moments of silence, Barbel resumed:

"I have no more to say to you, my young friend. All I want you to do
is to look upon that framed conundrum, then upon this grindstone, and
then to go home and reflect. As for me, I have a gross of pins to
grind before the sun goes down."

I cannot say that my depression of mind was at all relieved by what I
had seen and heard. I had lost sight of Barbel for some years, and I
had supposed him still floating on the sun-sparkling stream of
prosperity where I had last seen him. It was a great shock to me to
find him in such a condition of poverty and squalor, and to see a man
who had originated the "Conundrum of the Anvil" reduced to the
soul-depressing occupation of grinding pin-points. As I walked and
thought, the dreadful picture of a totally eclipsed future arose before
my mind. The moral of Barbel sank deep into my heart.

When I reached home I told my wife the story of my friend Barbel. She
listened with a sad and eager interest.

"I am afraid," she said, "if our fortunes do not quickly mend, that we
shall have to buy two little grindstones. You know I could help you at
that sort of thing."

For a long time we sat together and talked, and devised many plans for
the future. I did not think it necessary yet for me to look out for a
pin contract; but I must find some way of making money, or we should
starve to death. Of course, the first th