All trade is bad just now.

Never fear, we'll weather the storm--I'm not afraid." Cheerfully as he spoke, I began to guess--what he already must have known--that our fortunes were as a slowly leaking ship, of which the helm had slipped from my old father's feeble hand.

But John had taken it--John stood firm at the wheel.

Perhaps, with God's blessing, he might guide us safe to land.
I had not time to say more, when, with its pretty grey ponies, the curricle once more passed our way.

Two ladies were in it: one leaned out and bowed.