The disposition to moralize comes on with advancing middle age, and I could not help philosophizing on this perennial optimism of the Captain's. He had used these very words when, so long ago, we had begun our "cruise." The financial cycle was complete. The world had passed from hope to intoxication, from intoxication to panic, from panic to the depths, from this depression, ascending the long slope of gradual recovery, to the uplands of hope once more. Now, as twenty years ago, this feeling covered the whole world, was most pronounced in the newer and more progressive lands, and was voiced by Captain Tolliver, the grizzled swashbuckler of the land market. In it I recognized the ripple on the sands heralding the approach of another wave of speculation, which must roll shoreward in splendor and might, and, like its predecessors, must spend itself in thunderous ruin. I often think of what General Lattimore was accustomed to say about these matters, and how Josie echoed his words as to the evil of fortunes coming to those who never earned them. Some time, I hope, we shall grow wise enough to-- I humbly beg your pardon, Madam, and thank you. That charming gesture of impatience was the one thing needful to admonish me that lectures are dull, and that the time has come to write _finis_. The rest of the story? Cornish--Jim--Josie--Antonia? Oh, this proneness of the business man to talk shop! Left to myself, I should have allowed their history to remain to the end of time, unresolved as to entanglements, and them unhealed as to bruises, bodily and sentimental. And, yet, those were the things which most filled our minds in the dark days after we missed connection with the Pendleton special. In the first spasm of the crisis I was more concerned for Jim's safety than with the long-feared monetary cataclysm. _That_ was upon us in such power as to make us helpless; but Jim, wounded and prostrated as he was, his very life in danger, was a concrete subject of anxiety and a comfortingly promising object of care. "If we can keep this from assuming the character of true pneumonia," said Dr. Aylesbury, "there's no reason why he shouldn't recover." He had been unconscious and then delirious from the time when he and I had been picked up there by the railroad-dump, until we were well on our way home on Kittrick's relief-train. At last he looked about him, and his eyes rested on Corcoran. "Hello, Jack!" said he weakly; and as his glance took in Ole, he smiled and said: "A hellufa notion, you tank, do you? Ole, where's Schwartz?" Ole twisted and squirmed, but found no words. "We couldn't find Schwartz," said Kittrick. "He was so cold, he went right down with the cab." "I see," said Jim. "It was bitter cold!"