go into the Treasury as a junior clerk? Why, I'll insure you a larger salary, with more rapid promotion, if you choose to become a reader in the printing office! Or is it your ambition to become a minister's private secretary? My dear lad! look at the times in which we live. Ministries are bowled down like nine-pins, and when the principal is upset, where is the subordinate? And then, mark you; between you and the object of your desire lie hundreds of the young aristocracy who are fit for nothing else, and who swarm in the troubled waters of patronage as thick as groundsharks in the surf at Madras. Dixi; I have spoken. Take another glass of claret, for the enjoyment of which I fear our conversation has spoiled you. Never mind. Think over what I have said. To-morrow we shall go to church for morning service; but, as I am no Puritan, I shall be ready to hear your views thereafter. A white-wash? No? Well then, let us join the ladies."

CHAPTER IV.

ARTHUR FAUNCE.

WHEN I awoke next morning, the sun shining cheerfully through the gay chintz curtains of my bed, Mr Osborne's language gave me ample subject for reflection. Was it indeed true that I was in danger of sacrificing my time and subjecting myself to the bitter pangs of disappointment by grasping at a shadow? Was it folly in me, left without a profession, to desire employment in the public service? Were the chances of success so small, and the advantages to be gained so trifling, as this shrewd observer had represented them to be? These were questions to which I had not as yet applied myself, but they were clearly of the utmost importance. I was vexed and amazed at my stupidity and want of foresight in blundering onward without any clear aim or distinct object before me. I could not disguise from myself that I stood in the unenviable position of a vague place-hunter, somewhat analogous to that of the sons of Eli; for was I not, notwithstanding all my boasts of independence, crouch

VOL. II.

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ing for a piece of silver and a morsel of bread? And then the gain-would my ambition be satisfied with the situation of a clerk in a public office? Would that elevate my social position, or entitle me to aspire to the hand of Mary Beaton? Clearly I was on the wrong road; or rather, like the traveller overtaken by a fog on the muirland, I had altogether lost my way.

Then for the first time I began to perceive the grave error I had committed in not selecting a profession— an error which cannot be too much exposed, or too unequivocally condemned. All professions have their own peculiar rewards and prizes which are attainable through patience and perseverance; but for the mere adventurer, whatever may be his ability, there is nothing of the kind. He may succeed by some lucky accident, but the chances are woefully against him. His lack of a profession, acknowledged and recognised by all, is naturally attributed to deficiency either in application or talent. He has no regular certificate to produce; no exact position in society to which he can lay an unquestioned claim.

Bitterly did I regret my folly in having abandoned the law without going through the ceremony of assuming the barrister's gown. Had I taken that step, which at one time was perfectly within my power, what a prospect might now have been open to me! Lawyers who could make even a decent appearance before committees, were in high request. The demand was for a certain time much greater than the supply. Seniors who were known to be men of ex

perience and ability, had so many briefs showered in upon them, that it was absolutely impossible to count upon their attendance. A steady junior, who would pledge himself to attend only one committee each day, was instantly bought up. Elderly gentlemen, who for many a long year had laid aside the horse-hair wig, now assumed it with far brighter prospects than they had conceived in the days of their ardent boyhood; and the dullest blockhead who could utter two connected sentences, or conduct an examination from a brief, was sure to have a pocketful of guineas.

From all participation in this golden shower I was utterly excluded. Not a drop of it could come my way. I began to see that in adopting an erratic course, I was so far from securing independence, that I had absolutely sacrificed it; and now, when too late, I found myself little better than a veritable Bohemian. Well!-I had no one but myself to blame for it, and I must even make the best of circumstances. So, laying aside in the mean time all thoughts of patronage, I resolved to give a serious ear to Mr Osborne's proposal.

"So, then," said that gentleman, when we sallied forth in the afternoon, "you are willing for the present to drop that nice little scheme about entering the public service? Understand me--I don't mean to say that you should reject a desirable offer if such were made; but I think it vastly absurd that you should lose your time by dancing attendance on this or the other political character, and doing jobs for them with

out even the certainty of being thanked. It is no doubt to be regretted that you are of no profession— still, all men cannot be professional. There are a great many things which lie out of the province of lawyers, doctors, and divines; and these must be done by other people. You have educated yourself up to a high literary point. Well, then, literature is your proper line. If you were one of those ridiculous young fellows, who think that literature consists in stringing rhymes together, I would as soon advise you to enlist in a marching regiment as to follow any such profitless occupation; but you have too much sense for that. We want writers for the press-men who can direct, and in some measure control, the public mind; and, trust me, the field is as wide as the functions are important. Let who will sneer at the press, it is a rising and a growing power. Men speak reverently enough of the tracts of Bacon, Milton, Marvell, Swift, and Addison, while they affect to despise the anonymous contributions of the day; yet what were those tracts but the precursors of the leading articles that appear in our daily papers? I tell you that we want the best men, and must have them at any price. To influence public opinion, as we do and shall influence it, is no ignoble calling."

"Most cordially do I concur, Mr Osborne, in every word you have uttered regarding the dignity of the press," I replied. "I only wish that such sentiments were more generally entertained.”

'There I differ from you," said Mr Osborne, “at