erable twaddle as this? Why, do you
think if you HAD been capable of rising at the bar, I would have taken
so much trouble about getting you a place? No, sir; you are too fond of
pleasure, and bed, and tea-parties, and small-talk, and reading novels,
and playing the flute, and writing sonnets. You would no more rise
at the bar than my messenger, sir. It was because I knew your
disposition--that hopeless, careless, irresolute good-humour of
yours--that I had determined to keep you out of danger, by placing you
in a snug shelter, where the storms of the world would not come near
you. You must have principles forsooth! and you must marry Miss Gorgon,
of course: and by the time you have gone ten circuits, and had six
children, you will have eaten up every shilling of your wife's fortune,
and be as briefless as you are now. Who the deuce has put all this
nonsense into your head? I think I know."

Mr. Perkins's ears tingled as these hard words saluted them; and he
scarcely knew whether he ought to knock his uncle down, or fall at his
feet and say, "Uncle, I have been a fool, and I know it." The fact is,
that in his interview with Miss Gorgon and her aunt in the morning,
when he came to tell them of the resolution he had formed to give up
the place, both the ladies and John himself had agreed, with a thousand
rapturous tears and exclamations, that he was one of the noblest young
men that ever lived, had acted as became himself, and might with perfect
propriety give up the place, his talents being so prodigious that no
power on earth could hinder him from being Lord Chancellor. Indeed, John
and Lucy had always thought the clerkship quite beneath him, and were
not a little glad, perhaps, at finding a pretext for decently refusing
it. But as Perkins was a young gentleman whose candour was such that he
was always swayed by the opinions of the last speaker, he did begin to
feel now the truth of his uncle's statements, however disagreeable they
might be.

Mr. Crampton continued:--

"I think I know the cause of your patriotism. Has not William Pitt
Scully, Esquire, had something to do with it?"

Mr. Perkins COULD not turn any redder than he was, but confessed with
deep humiliation that "he HAD consulted Mr. Scully among other friends."

Mr. Crampton smiled--drew a letter from a heap before him, and tearing
off the signature, handed over the document to his nephew. It contained
the following paragraphs:--

"Hawksby has sounded