When among Romans, I was, much to my disgust, obliged to do as Romans did.  I would often go to cities where my opponent’s readers or arithmetics had been adopted the night before, point out the defects of rival publications, give an unabridged dictionary to each official, offer a ten per cent. commission to the “king pin,” take the board in a hack to their headquarters, secure a reconsideration, telegraph for my books, and the next day with express wagons and helpers, put our readers into every school in the town.

This was sharp practice, prices were cut, until finally, we gave new books in even exchange for old ones, trusting to future sales to reimburse us, but when they needed another supply, they would swap even with another publisher, so that our bread cast upon the waters never returned.

We often secured “louder calls” for influential teachers and clergymen in reciprocation for their votes, bought anything they had to sell at their own prices until many publishers became bankrupt; the big fish swallowing the little ones, and then came the survival of the longest purse.

One evening, after my day’s work in the city of G—­was ended, being lonesome in my hotel, I thought of a family residing there who had a summer residence in R——­, and concluded to renew my acquaintance with the eldest daughter with whom I had enjoyed many rides and sails, and to whom I had quoted many romantic poems the previous season.

With fear and trembling, for I was always a bashful youth, I rang the door bell, and was ushered into the parlor where I caught my first glimpse of a fair-haired, rosy-cheeked, graceful younger sister to whom, at a glance, I knew I was married in heaven.

Whence came that vital spark blending our souls in one?  Had we lived and loved on some fairer shore?  Who can tell?  Had our spirits been wandering through the universe millions of years seeking each the other, nor finding rest until we met?  Only the angels know.

All we knew and all we seemed to care to know was that at last each had found the “alter ego” for which it pined.  There were no others on earth—­father, mother, sister, brothers, came and went almost unheeded.  Strange as it may seem, on this evening of our first meeting, we told each other the old, old story, first told in Eden, reiterated by millions since, and will continue to be rehearsed until Gabriel through his trumpet sounds the final love song to the world.

  With favoring winds, o’er sunlit seas,
  We sailed for the Hesperides,
  The land where golden apples grow;
  But that, ah that was long ago.

  How far, since then, the ocean streams
  Have swept us from that land of dreams,
  That land of fiction and of truth,
  The lost Atlantis of our youth.

  Ultima Thule, utmost isle,
  Here in thy harbors for a while,
  We lower our sails; awhile we rest
  From the unceasing, endless quest.