market-people. The fresh air of the morning had had the same effect upon Charles as on the peasantry. The old man never looked at his customer; prince or ploughman it was all the same to him, so that he sold his rolls and coffee. Charles had finished his breakfast before he recollected what folly it was to sustain that life which was so soon to terminate. A single penny remained of his sixpence; he gave it to a beggar at hand, as much from thoughtlessness as from charity, and yet the woman bade God bless him!
Life was now fully astir in the city; morning—which is so beautiful in the country, with its long shadows, its lucid sunshine, and its glittering dew—in town is the meanest part of the day, seemingly devoted to cleanliness and hunger. Carpets are being shaken from the windows, the steps are being washed, and the butcher with his tray, the baker with his basket, the grocer, and the milkman, hurry from door to door; and day, like life, has first its necessaries, and then its luxuries. Charles wandered on among the hurrying throng, referring them only to himself.
"How little," thought he, "do these people—thus busy in the many preparations of existence how little do they deem, that among them walks one who is with them, not of them; one consecrated by death!"
Strange that this idea carried with it something of exultation! so much does the pride of man rejoice
