"I had rather see a hundred roots of any beautiful tulip in a hundred gardens," observed M. Gaubion, "that a hundred owners might enjoy its beauty, than have the single root from which the hundred sprang, even though it might make me envied by all my neighbours, and moreover be worth five or fifty guineas." "So had I, sir," said Cooper: "for the same reason that I had rather see any useful or pretty article of manufacture growing cheap, and spreading over the world, than have it remain scarce, that I and a few others might have the sale of it to ourselves. My flowers answer their purpose better in giving pleasure to me and mine, than in being wondered at and snatched up for their rarity; and it is the same with things that are wrought by the hand of man. They must be scarce at the beginning; but that scarcity is a necessary fault, not a virtue, as far as their usefulness is concerned. But, as to making them more scarce than they need be, I would not be the man that had to answer for it!" "Then you deserve the due and true reward of the liberal,--to have plenty while giving others plenty. I see you work for one master, and these neighbours of yours for another. You seem all to be busy enough." "Yes, sir. Thank God! M. Gaubion has had enough for his people to do; and we,--that is, I,"--nodding with a significant smile towards Short,--"cannot but improve by seeing what is all the same as French work going on under one's eyes. Our fabrics, sir, are quite another thing already to what they were three years ago." There was indeed a manifest difference between Short's piece (which might be taken as a specimen of what the English fabric had been five years before) and Cooper's, whose work was little, if at all, inferior to that which M. Gaubion's trained men were achieving with his improved apparatus.--That gentleman took no part while the comparison was being made; and when looked for, as his companions were about to leave the room, was found in a corner with Ichabod, cooking dinner in the kitchen of a baby-house which was the little lad's favourite toy. Twice had the jack been wound up, nine times had the goose revolved, and again and again had the lady inhabitant been brought down from her toilet to the kitchen fire, and led from the kitchen to her jointed table, before Ichabod would leave hold of M. Gaubion's right-hand cuff, and allow him to go about other business than his gallant cookery. "Your little son has his fancy as well as you," the gentleman observed with a smile. "Though far from the age of being worn and weary, Ichabod has his fancy;--the first fancy, I hope, of many."