CHAPTER XIV.
A NEW YORK MERCHANT.
Mr.Lawrence Newt, the brother of Boniface, sat in his office.

It was upon South Street, and the windows looked out upon the shipping in the East River--upon the ferry-boats incessantly crossing--upon the lofty city of Brooklyn opposite, with its spires.

He heard the sailors sing--the oaths of the stevedores--the bustle of the carts, and the hum and scuffle of the passers-by.

As he sat at his table he saw the ships haul into the stream--the little steamers that puffed alongside bringing the passengers; then, if the wind were not fair, pulling and shoving the huge hulks into a space large enough for them to manage themselves in.
Sometimes he watched the parting of passengers at the wharf when the wind was fair, and the ship could sail from her berth.

The vast sails were slowly unfurled, were shaken out, hung for a few moments, then shook lazily, then filled round and full with the gentle, steady wind.