But enough of praise that can fall only on the dull, cold ear of death. A few words on the after years of this busy life, and I have done. These years brought a rich reward for all the sacrifices of the past. The first feeling was one of infinite relief that at last the victory was won. The terrible strain was taken off, and to him who had borne it so long, the change to the quiet of his own happy home was inexpressibly grateful after his many and long separations. He was now in his own country and under his own roof, but with a name that was known on both sides of the sea. The complete success of the Atlantic Telegraph had given him an immense reputation at home and abroad. It seemed as if the struggles of life were all over, leaving only its honors to be enjoyed. What more could he ask to make life worth living than the respect of his countrymen for his courage, energy and perseverance, and a name honored all over the civilized world as one of the world's benefactors? The practical results of the cable were even greater than he had dared to anticipate. In the space of a few months it wrought a commercial revolution in America. It was a new sensation to have the Old World brought so near, that it entered into one's daily life. Every morning, as Mr. Field went to his office, he found laid on his desk at nine o'clock the quotations on the Royal Exchange at twelve! Lombard Street and Wall Street talked with each other as two neighbors across the way. This soon made an end of the tribe of speculators who calculated on the fact that nobody knew at a particular moment the state of the market on the other side of the sea, an universal ignorance by which they profited by getting the earliest advices. But now everybody got them as soon as they, for the news came with the rising of each day's sun, and the occupation of a class that did much to demoralize trade on both sides of the ocean was gone. The same restoration of order was seen in the business of importations, which had been hitherto almost a matter of guess-work. A merchant who wished to buy silks in Lyons, sent out his orders months in advance, and of course somewhat at random, not knowing how the market might turn, so that when the costly fabrics arrived, he might find that he had ordered too many or too few. A China merchant sent his ship round the world for a cargo of tea, which returned after a year's absence, bringing not enough to supply the public demand, leaving him in vexation at the thought of what he might have made, "if he had known," or, what was still worse, bringing twice too much, in which case the unsold half remained on his hands. This was a risk against which he had to be insured, as much as against fire or shipwreck. And the only insurance he could have was to take reprisals by an increased charge on his unfortunate customers.