Cheer up, Mr.
Rolles, you are in the right profession at last! As for helping
you, you may command me as you will. I have only a day's business
in Edinburgh on a little matter for my brother; and once that is
concluded, I return to Paris, where I usually reside. If you
please, you may accompany me thither. And before the end of a
month I believe I shall have brought your little business to a
satisfactory conclusion."
(At this point, contrary to all the canons of his art, our Arabian
author breaks off the STORY OF THE YOUNG MAN IN HOLY ORDERS. I
regret and condemn such practices; but I must follow my original,
and refer the reader for the conclusion of Mr. Rolles' adventures
to the next number of the cycle, the STORY OF THE HOUSE WITH THE
GREEN BLINDS.)
STORY OF THE HOUSE WITH THE GREEN BLINDS
Francis Scrymgeour, a clerk in the Bank of Scotland at Edinburgh,
had attained the age of twenty-five in a sphere of quiet,
creditable, and domestic life. His mother died while he was young;
but his father, a man of sense and probity, had given him an
excellent education at school, and brought him up at home to
orderly and frugal habits. Francis, who was of a docile and
affectionate disposition, profited by these advantages with zeal,
and devoted himself heart and soul to his employment. A walk upon
Saturday afternoon, an occasional dinner with members of his
family, and a yearly tour of a fortnight in the Highlands or even
on the continent of Europe, were his principal distractions, and,
he grew rapidly in favour with his superiors, and enjoyed already a
salary of nearly two hundred pounds a year, with the prospect of an
ultimate advance to almost double that amount.
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