counsel likewise of my own conscience, I am compelled, with the
deepest grief, to say, my dear uncle, that I--I--"

"That you--what, sir?" exclaimed little Mr. Crampton, bouncing off
his chair. "You don't mean to say that you are such a fool as to
decline the place?"

"I do decline the place," said Perkins, whose blood rose at the word
"fool." "As a man of honour, I cannot take it."

"Not take it! and how are you to live? On the rent of that house of
yours? For, by gad, sir, if you give up the clerkship, I never will
give you a shilling."

"It cannot be helped," said Mr. Perkins, looking as much like a
martyr as he possibly could, and thinking himself a very fine
fellow. "I have talents, sir, which I hope to cultivate; and am
member of a profession by which a man may hope to rise to the very
highest offices of the State."

"Profession, talents, offices of the State! Are you mad, John
Perkins, that you come to me with such insufferable twaddle as this?
Why, do you think if you HAD been capable of rising at the bar, I
would have taken so much trouble about getting you a place? No,
sir; you are too fond of pleasure, and bed, and tea-parties, and
small-talk, and reading novels, and playing the flute, and writing
sonnets. You would no more rise at the bar than my messenger, sir.
It was because I knew your disposition--that hopeless, careless,
irresolute good-humour of yours--that I had determined to keep you
out of danger, by placing you in a snug shelter, where the storms of