We live amid a many-colored web of countless threads, stretching across land and sea, and connecting man with man.

When I place a sack of coffee in the scales, I am weaving an invisible link between the colonist's daughter in Brazil, who has plucked the beans, and the young mechanic who drinks it for his breakfast; and if I take up a stick of cinnamon, I seem to see, on the one side, the Malay who has rolled it up, and, on the other, the old woman of our suburb who grates it over her pudding." "You have a lively imagination, and are happy in the utility of your calling.

But if we seek for poetry, we must, like Byron, quit civilized countries to find it on the sea or in the desert." "Not so," replied Anton, pertinaciously; "the merchant has just as poetical experiences as any pirate or Arab.

There was a bankruptcy lately.

Could you have witnessed the gloomy lull before the storm broke, the fearful despair of the husband, the high spirit of his wife, who insisted upon throwing in her own fortune to the last dollar to save his honor, you would not say that our calling is poor in passion or emotion." Bernhard listened with downcast eyes, and Anton remarked that he seemed embarrassed and distressed.
Changing the conversation, he proposed that they should both walk together to the English master, and make the final arrangements.