He wanted, with all this, something of that shrewdness so essential to the getting or preserving property; this world so teems with those who covet all their eyes behold, who ask no counsel from the law of heaven or the code of earthly justice, so long as forms of law will screen them in their sly grasping after acres and goods, that a man needs, with all the piety of a saint, something of the serpent's cunning. It is not enough that he covets no man's silver or gold, that he wrongs no man of his due, that he extends his hand to the helpless, that he be ever ready to lift to his own level those who are struggling below him: he must take care for himself. Riches are fleeting substances, with wings ever ready for flight; he who enjoys the blessings they can bring, must give all diligence to 'see well to his flocks and herds; for riches are not for ever'; nor do they descend to many generations. Mr. Rutherford had already experienced some trials in this way; his confidence had been too strong, his sensibility for others' feelings too acute, and there was great danger that he might yet be a heavy sufferer, because he did not learn wisdom, as he might, from some of the trials he had already passed through. Whatever doubts may have disturbed Bill's mind as he was walking up the broad avenue, they were all dissipated the moment he was recognized by Mr. Rutherford. He grasped his hand with the cordiality of a friend, took him at once into the house, and into the presence of his lovely wife. 'You remember, my dear, the young man who so kindly assisted us at the time of the accident to our carriage.' 'Indeed I do,' said Mrs. Rutherford, rising and bidding him a hearty welcome. Bill was put at once at ease; he never before could have supposed, that persons who lived so very differently from what he had been accustomed to, could be so affable; they seemed to him to feel and act as if he was as good as any of them; asked him as many questions as old Sam Cutter would have done, and seemed as pleased with all the little news he communicated, as though he had been a city resident, loaded with tidings from the gay and stirring world. The little children, too, in all their sprightliness and beauty--those speaking images of the parent's heart--came fondling round him; his plain rough garments were unheeded by them, and he was soon as familiar with the little prattlers as though they had been the children of his nearest neighbor. But where was Hettie? Bill wondered much why she was not among the first to come and greet him. He did not ask; he heard her name spoken by the little ones, and his heart would beat and his breath grow short, and once he thought he heard her light step in the passage; and then sad thoughts would come and sink his spirits, so buoyant from his kind reception. But Bill had yet to learn some lessons in the school of life.