Ah! how dearly have I paid for my folly!" While he still sat musing at his desk, his friend Ellis came in, looking quite sober.
"I know you've been pretty hard run for the last week or ten days," said he, "but can't you strain a point and help me a little?
I've been running about all the morning, and am still two hundred dollars short of the amount to be paid in bank to-day." "Fortunately," replied Wilkinson, "I have just the sum you need." "How long can you spare it ?" "Until day after to-morrow." "You shall have it then, without fail." The money was counted out and handed to Ellis, who, as he received it, said in a desponding voice-- "Unless a man is so fortunate as to be born with a silver spoon in his mouth, he finds nothing but up-hill work in this troublesome world.

I declare! I'm almost discouraged.

I can feel myself going behindhand, instead of advancing." "Don't say that.

You're only in a desponding mood," replied Wilkinson, repressing his own gloomy feelings, and trying to speak encouragingly.
"I wish it were only imagination.

It is now nearly ten years since I was married, and though my business, at the time, was good, and paying a fair profit on the light capital invested, it has, instead of getting more prosperous, become, little and by little, embarrassed, until now--I speak this confidently, and to one whom I know to be a friend--were every thing closed up, I doubt if I should be worth five hundred dollars." "Not so bad as that.