The venture with Alek Preston was the first in which I too lightly considered the hallowed maxims of my father, and by it I received the first admonishment that the issues of fortune are ruled by another kind of wisdom than the cunning of man. I had, in a theoretical manner, a just conception of this truth, but it was a theory unsanctioned by experience—a plausible supposition which made no part of the sentiment nor of the reasoning which influenced my conduct. In short, though the thoughtlessness of that poor young man caused a great loss to me, I yet saw not in what had been done the extent of my own folly, but pacified my conscience, then too easily appeased, with the strong argument of pity for a gallant young man, and the obligations which early friendship fastens upon young hearts. Thus it came to pass that my inclination for specs was not restrained by that untoward concern.

Indeed, about this time, I could not help being brought into other troubles, owing to the same kind-heartedness. I was becoming, by the success of my business, better and better known in the city; and many emigrants, after they had been landed a time, came claiming acquaintance with me, some on a far off remembrance of myself when I was a boy, others because they had heard of my father, and a third crew of cravers, for reasons never properly explained, though no doubt well known to themselves. Thus I had a host of ingenious young men every day at the door of the store, telling how fortunes could be made, though their ragged elbows and thread-bare vestments were but poor seconders of such opulent suggestions.

However, as in the case of Alek Preston, I was beguiled sometimes to give more heeding to these Eldorados than I ought to have done, and in consequence, although I never risked in any one adventure so much as the loss of the whole of it would overwhelm me, yet I found myself growing poorer and more hampered in my own available assets. In short, I was going down the hill, while every body thought I was triumphing victoriously.