ic cat,
descended from the jungle, is not more shrunk. Keys have fallen on
evil days. Observe the mighty row of them hung discarded along his
boxes! Each one is fit to unlock a castle. Warwick itself might yield
to such a weight of metal--rusty now, disused, quite out of fashion,
displaced by a race of dwarfs. In the old prints, see how the London
'prentice runs with his great key in the dawn to take down his
master's shutter! In a musty play, observe the jailor at the dungeon
door! Without massive keys jingling at the belt the older drama must
have been a weakling. Only lovers, then, dared to laugh at locksmiths.
But now locksmiths sit brooding on the past, shriveled to mean uses,
ready for paltry kitchen jobs.

And the undertaker, what shall we say of him? That black coat with the
flower! That mournful smile! That perfect grief! And yet, I am told,
undertakers, after hours, go singing home to supper, and spend their
evenings at the movies like us rougher folk. It was David Copperfield,
you recall, who dined with an undertaker and his family--in the room,
no doubt, next to the coffin storage--and he remarked at the time how
cheerfully the joint went round. One of this sober cloth, moreover,
has confided to me that they let themselves loose, above all
professions, in their reunions and conventions. If an unusual riot
issues from the door and a gay fellow goes walking on the table it is
sure that either lawyers or undertakers sit inside.

For myself, if I were to become a merchant, I would choose a shop at a
four-corners in the country, and I would stock from shoe-laces to
plows. There is no virtue in keeping store in the city. It is merely
by favor that customers show themselves. Candidly, your competitor can
better supply their wants. This is not so at the four-corners. Nor is
anyone a more influential citizen than a country merchant. He sets the
style in calicoes. He judges between check and stripe. His decision
against a high heel flattens the housewives by an inch. But if I kept
such a country store, I would provide an open fire and, when the
shadows lengthened, an easy chair or two for gossips.

I was meditating lately on these strange preferences in livelihoods
and was gazing through the city windows for any clue when I was
reminded of a tempting scheme that Wee Jessie--a delightful
Scots-woman of my acquaintance--has planned for several of us.

We are to be traveling merchants for a season, with a horse and w