ithin him. It told him that he
could do wonders; that he could go out into the world and accomplish
all that would be required to free his mother from debt, and relieve
her from the severe drudgery of her life.

A great many people think they can "do wonders." The vanity of some
very silly people makes them think they can command armies, govern
nations, and teach the world what the world never knew before and
never would know but for them. But Bobby's something within him was
not vanity. It was something more substantial. He was not thinking of
becoming a great man, a great general, a great ruler, or a great
statesman; not even of making a great fortune. Self was not the idol
and the end of his calculations. He was thinking of his mother, and
only of her; and the feeling within him was as pure, and holy, and
beautiful as the dream of an angel. He wanted to save his mother from
insult in the first place, and from a life of ceaseless drudgery in
the second.

A legion of angels seemed to have encamped in his soul to give him
strength for the great purpose 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 came 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 probab