onger than his undeveloped nature, up to a certain period, where my
responsibility ends and his commences. Man is a self-acting machine. He
cannot cease to be a machine; but, though self-acting, he may lose the
powers of self-guidance, and in a wrong course his very vitalities hurry
him to perdition. Young, he is an organism ripening to the set mechanic
diurnal round, and while so he needs all the angels to hold watch over
him that he grow straight and healthy, and fit for what machinal duties
he may have to perform"...

Mr. Thompson agitated his eyebrows dreadfully. He was utterly lost. He
respected Sir Austin's estates too much to believe for a moment he was
listening to downright folly. Yet how otherwise explain the fact of
his excellent client being incomprehensible to him? For a middle-aged
gentleman, and one who has been in the habit of advising and managing,
will rarely have a notion of accusing his understanding; and Mr.
Thompson had not the slightest notion of accusing his. But the baronet's
condescension in coming thus to him, and speaking on the subject nearest
his heart, might well affect him, and he quickly settled the case in
favour of both parties, pronouncing mentally that his honoured client
had a meaning, and so deep it was, so subtle, that no wonder he
experienced difficulty in giving it fitly significant words.

Sir Austin elaborated his theory of the Organism and the Mechanism,
for his lawyer's edification. At a recurrence of the word "healthy" Mr.
Thompson caught him up:

"I apprehended you! Oh, I agree with you, Sir Austin! entirely! Allow
me to ring for my son Ripton. I think, if you condescend to examine
him, you will say that regular habits, and a diet of nothing but
law-reading--for other forms of literature I strictly interdict--have
made him all that you instance."

Mr. Thompson's hand was on the bell. Sir Austin arrested him.

"Permit me to see the lad at his occupation," said he.

Our old friend Ripton sat in a room apart with the confidential clerk,
Mr. Beazley, a veteran of law, now little better than a document,
looking already signed and sealed, and shortly to be delivered, who
enjoined nothing from his pupil and companion save absolute silence, and
sounded his praises to his father at the close of days when it had
been rigidly observed--not caring, or considering, the finished dry old
document that he was, under what kind of spell a turbulent commonplace
youth could be charmed i