ecame aware
of my utter inability to extricate myself out of the net of
difficulties which surrounded me.

"You are convinced at last. Look me steadily in the face, Geoffrey, and
own that you are beaten. Nay, smooth that frowning brow: it makes you
look like Robert Moncton. Your profession is a fortune in itself, if
you persevere in acquiring it. Be not discouraged by difficulties that
beset the path. A poor man's road to independence is always up-hill
work. Duty fences the path on either side, and success waves her flag
from the summit; but every step must be trod, often in ragged garments,
and with bare feet, if we would reach the top."

I pressed George Harrison's hand, silently within my own. He had won a
great victory over obstinacy and self-conceit.

From that hour my prospects brightened. I became a new creature, full
of hope, activity and trust. My legal studies engaged all my leisure
moments. I had no time left to brood over my wrongs. My mind had formed
an estimate of its own powers; the energetic spirit which had been
wasted in endless cavils and contradictions (for my temper was faulty
and headstrong, and my uncle not always the aggressor) now asserted its
own dignity, and furnished me with the weapon most needed in such petty
warfare--self-respect. Harrison had given me a motive for exertion, and
I was ashamed of having suffered my mental powers to remain so long
inactive. As my mind recovered a healthy tone, my spirits rose in
proportion. The thirst for improvement daily acquired new strength,
while my industry not only surprised, but drew forth the commendations
of my uncle.

"What has become of your churlish, morose temper, Geoffrey?" said he to
me one day, at dinner; "why, boy, you are greatly changed of late. From
a sulky, impertinent, vindictive lad, you have become an industrious,
agreeable, pleasant fellow."

"It is never too late to mend, uncle," said I, laughing, though I did
not much relish his portrait of what I had been. "My temper I found a
greater punishment to myself than to others, so I thought it high time
to change it for a better."

"You were perfectly right. I have a better hope for your future than I
once had. I shall be able to make something out of you yet."

This unlooked-for condescension on the part of Mr. Moncton, softened
the hard feelings I had long cherished against him into a more
Christian-like endurance of his peculiarities; and the conscientious
discharge of my ow