We always give ourselves a holiday trip on Easter Mondays, and the very last occasion was, in a comparative way, memorable, for we had company with us, and we went somewhat further afield than usual. In short, we went as far as Brighton, and our company comprised the oldest son of our old friend Brown. Our oldest girl looked particularly happy under these circumstances. That affair of hers is as good as settled now, and, indeed, from the very first I regarded it favourably; for the youth seemed a prudent, sensible fellow—a true chip, in fact, of the old Brown block, and likely to push his way fairly in the world. But my wife, whose maternal matrimonial eyes have been rather upwards ever since our business began to graduate into the wholesale, had not been quite so satisfied, and at first rather looked down on the Brown connection, cheesemongering and provisioning, just like our own as it was, and wholesale, too, as well as retail. But then that was entirely between her and myself. She afterwards got accustomed to the young fellow, then pronounced the event inevitable, and ended by a strong liking for her prospective son-in-law.
So we were all at one last Easter, and we did enjoy ourselves on that occasion. I had promised my young friend, who was about to set up in the hardware line, not only to procure him useful introductions, but also to accompany him personally next morning in his preliminary business tour to our central iron districts. The fact is, and between ourselves, good reader, I was ever on the alert for the
