The success which attended my commercial establishment in London was gratifying; in fact, I had every prospect of realizing a large and rapid fortune, when one morning, without any previous intimation, I received a letter from my partner Mr. Possy, informing me that Eric Pullicate had given him notice to provide a substitute, as he intended to go into business for himself. His savings in our service were considerable, and to do him only justice, his conduct quite deserved our liberality. But the information puzzled me. Had we not offered to advance him, there could have been no surprise at his determination; we had, however, pressed him to accept a share with us, and his refusal had never ceased to excite my wonder.

My partner, in communicating the news, made light of it. He even considered Eric's desertion,—the wary and far-forecasting Eric—as an effect of self-will, and only the common ingratitude of man for the sincerity of the respect we entertained for him, at the same time assuring me, that although indeed he had been a praiseworthy servant, yet he was not so rare as such that his place could not be easily supplied.

Mr. Possy expressed himself in the customary language of the world, but his letter contained not one reflection from his own mind. It was all made up of the opinions of others, and filled with the commonplaces of vulgar confidence.