alone. But consider candidly, and decide: Should Elkanah have gone to
New York?

On the whole, _I_ think, _yes_. For,--He had a certain talent, and gave
good promise of excellence in his chosen profession.

He liked it, felt strongly impelled towards it. Let us not yet
scrutinize too closely the main impelling forces. Few human actions
originate solely in what we try to think the most exalted motives.

He would have been discontented for life, had he not had his way. And
this should count for something,--for much, indeed. Give our boys
liberty to try that to which their nature or fancy strongly drives
them,--to burn their fingers, if that seem best.

Let him go, then; and God be with him! as surely He will be, if the
simple, faithful prayers of fair, sad Hepsy Ann are heard. Thus will
he, thus only can any, solve that sphinx-riddle of life which is
propounded to each passer to-day, as of old in fable-lands,--failing to
read which, he dies the death of rusting discontent,--solving whose
mysteries, he has revealed to him the deep secret of his life, and sees
and knows what best he may do here for himself and the world.

But _what, where, who_, is Elkanah Brewster's world?

While we stand reasoning, he has gone. In New York, his friend Graves
assisted him to a place in the studio of an artist, whose own works
have proved, no less than those of many who have gathered their most
precious lessons from him, that he is truly a master of his art. But
what are masters, teachers, to a scholar? It's very fine boarding at