I have no distinct recollection of any thing that passed in the mean time between the absurd scene at Mr. Possy’s, and the public meeting of our creditors. I fancy nothing, however, occurred much different from what generally takes place on such occasions. Novelists, and a few writers not ill at penning pretty sentences, say that their heroes and heroines sometimes live an age in a second; but I have never had any experience of such a condensation; on the contrary, I know full well, that in times of agitation, many seconds may be expanded into days, and that a striking fact will so engross the subsequent recollection, that a whole cycle of events will pass from the memory, and only that one fact be remembered.

As far, however, as I may trust the testimony of my feelings, I was in the interval actuated by the most resolute determination to prove myself cool and collected; and, if I may judge by the compliments of my friends, I was not altogether unsuccessful. But to talk of the lofty sentiments of heroism in any degree influencing the conduct of a mercantile man, even in the midst of disasters and ruin, is perhaps ridiculous; such magnanimity may be only safely practised by play-actors, and the dealers in life and limb. The knit-up nerve, and the riveted thought, are things that should never be mingled with the accidents of trade.