eyes
on his book never so firmly, his fancy would go on long journeys into
the past, and come back again, wearied more and more with each journey,
till at last it had sunk to rest, and Moses Grant's eyes were closed.
The bees buzzed on, the leaves quivered as before, and the great world
moved in its wonted way, yet our hero did not heed it; the world moved
on just the same, O reader! as it will one day move--one long, long
day--when you and I will not heed it.

Suddenly Moses Grant heard his name spoken. When aroused, he saw his
neighbor, Johnson, seated in the rustic chair that mated the one in
which he himself sat.

'Good-day, neighbor Johnson,' said Moses Grant. 'What in the world are
you doing with that great book?'

'I am taking the census.' And he began turning the leaves as if
searching for a lost place, remarking, laconically: 'Sultry.'

'Yes, a very close afternoon. But is it ten years since the census was
taken? It seems but as many months. Oh! well, time flies!'

And he looked at the beautiful sky and at the beautiful landscape, and
lingeringly at his own stately mansion, guarded by venerable trees that
his own hand had transplanted from the forest--and the great truth,
half-realized, yet almost as common as our daily life, that time was
sweeping all things into the dead past, day by day and year by year,
gave him a passing thought of how much he loved them.

The name of Moses Grant was duly inscribed in the book. Then the
question was asked by neighbor Johnson:

'When were you born?'

'In the year 1800--sixty years ago the day before yesterday--though I
declare I forgot all about my birthday.'

'Well, how much real estate shall I set down to you?'

'I _have_ said that I owned about fifty thousand dollars in that kind of
property, perhaps a little more, but not half as much as some persons
estimate.'

'Well, how much personal property?'

'I guess about twenty thousand will not go far out of the way, reckoning
mortgages and all.'

After a few minutes, which neighbor Johnson occupied by telling how Sime
Jones tried to get the appointment of census-taker by wriggling about in
an undignified way, and in talking about the prospects of his political
party, the visitor left the old man, (such we have a right to call him
since he has confessed his age,) and the old man (he would not thank us
for using the term so often, for he tries to think he is still
young--the old man, I must again repeat) fell a