Tom waited less nervously than he had done on a former occasion in this apartment, while his grandfather took out his snuff box and gratified each nostril with deliberate impartiality. “You see Tom”, said Mr Dean, at last, throwing himself backwards, “the world goes on at a smarter pace now than it did when I was a young fellow. Why, sir, forty years ago, when I was much such a strapping youngster as you, a man expected to pull between the shafts the best part of his life, before he got the whip in his hand. The looms were slowish, and fashions didn’t alter quite so fast: I’d a best suit that lasted me six years. Everything was on a lower scale, sir - in point of expenditure, I mean. It’s this steam, you see, that has made the difference: drives on every wheel double pace, and the wheel of fortune along with ‘em. I don’t find fault with the change, as some people do. Trade, sir, opens a man’s eyes; if the population is to get thicker upon the ground, as it’s doing, the world must use it’s wits at inventions of one sort or other. I know I’ve done my share as an ordinary man of business. Somebody has said it’s a fine thing to make two ears of corn grow where only one grew before; but, sir, it’s a fine thing, too, to further the exchange of commodities and bring the grains of corn to the mouths that are hungry. And that’s our line of business; and I consider it as honourable a position as a man can hold, to be connected with it.”
“I looked into the nature of all things we had to do with in the business, and picked up knowledge as I went about my work, and turned it over in my head. - If I got places, sir, it was because I made myself fit for ‘em. If you want to slip into a round hole, you must make a ball of yourself - that’s where it is.”
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