e in his mind. His was a holy and a true
purpose, and it was this that made him think he could "do wonders."
What Bobby intended to do the reader shall know in due time. It is
enough now that he meant to do something. The difficulty with a great
many people is, that they never resolve to do something. They wait for
"something to turn up;" and as "things" are often very obstinate, they
utterly refuse to "turn up" at all. Their lives are spent in waiting
for a golden opportunity which never comes.

Now, Bobby Bright repudiated the Micawber philosophy. He would have
nothing to do with it. He did not believe corn would grow without
being planted, or that pouts would bite the bare hook.

I am not going to tell my young readers now how Bobby made out in the
end; but I can confidently say that, if he had waited for "something to
turn up," he would have become a vagabond, a loafer, out of money, out
at the elbows, and out of patience with himself and all the world.

It was "now or never" with Bobby. He meant to do something; and after
he had made up his mind how and where it was to be done, it was no use
to stand thinking about it, like the pendulum of the "old clock which
had stood for fifty years in a farmer's kitchen, without giving its
owner any cause of complaint."

Bobby walked down the road towards the village with a rapid step. He
was thinking very fast, and probably that made him step quick. But as
he approached Squire Lee's house, his pace slackened, and he seemed to
be very uneasy. When he reached the great gate that led up to the
house, he stopped for an instant, and thrust his hands down very deep
into his trousers pockets. I cannot tell what the trousers pockets had
to do with what he was thinking about; but if he was searching for any
thing in them, he did not find it; for after an instant's hesitation he
drew out his hands, struck one of them against his chest, and in an
audible voice exclaimed,--

"Now or never."

All this pantomime, I suppose, meant that Bobby had some misgivings as
to the ultimate success of his mission at Squire Lee's, and that when
he struck his breast and uttered his favorite expression, they were
conquered and driven out.

Marching with a bold and determined step up to the squire's back
door--Bobby's idea of etiquette would not have answered for the
meridian of fashionable society--he gave three smart raps.

Bobby's heart beat a little wildly as he waited a response t