Australian Tales - Setis

Commercial Hobgoblins.
IN the course of a recent ramble in the city, I called at the countinghouse
of a mercantile friend, whom I found intently poring over his billbook.
I briefly apologised for intruding upon his studies, and as I had no
business to transact, I was about to retire, but the cordial tone in which he
said, “I am glad to see you; take a seat,” reassured me, so I took a seat,
and silently waited till he had totted up a long column of figures.
Presently he raised his eyes from the book, and sat abstractedly gazing at
nothing for two minutes. Fearing that he would soon miss his beard, for
he was unconsciously pulling the bristles out two at a time, I ventured to
ask him “if he found that reading his bill-book was a refreshing mental
exercise?” My question aroused him. He shut up the book, pushed it into
an iron safe and turned the key, with the grim look of a gaoler who had
just locked up a thief, then, rubbing his hands to warm them, he replied,
“I would rather read Hervey's ‘Meditations among the Tombs.’ Still,
there are moral lessons to be learned in bill-books, and I believe that if
they were studied a little more, it would be beneficial to the world at
large, and be especially gratifying to bank managers.”
By degrees my friend's face grew solemnly smooth, and with true
philosophy, worthy of imitation in these exciting times, he remarked,
“Scanning over my bill-book is not an exhilarating pastime just now; far
from it. It is a stern duty, which requires no small amount of courage to
perform; still, I dare not neglect it, or I should soon get as bemuddled and
panic-stricken as some of my neighbours. There are figures enough in
that book to frighten me if I were to yield to despondency; but I hope for
the best, while I prepare to meet reverses with courage, energy, and
patience. Most of my bills receivable may turn out as good as gold; so I
will cling to that comforting hope till I am obliged to relinquish it; but if
they should all prove bad, it would be folly for me to make myself bad
too, by fretting over them. Depend upon it, sir, nothing wears a man out
sooner than worry of mind. It impairs his digestion, disturbs his sleep,
sours his temper, destroys his vital energy, and makes a coward of him;
aye, and it will soon make a dry skeleton of him too. Bother it all! I won't
yield to it,” he added, with a shrug, as though he were dislodging a toad
from the nape of his neck. “I'll tell you a tale of the times, Mr.
Boomerang, just to divert my thoughts; then I hope you will tell me
something sprightly; and don't be afraid to laugh loudly, for it will cheer