udies, that he ought immediately to enter upon a course
of reading for one of the learned professions.

The mother turned a smile full of love, pride and sorrow upon the fine,
intellectual face of her boy, and said:

"You are like the angel in Cole's picture of life! You point the youth
to the far-up temple of fame----"

"And leave him to get there as he can? Not at all, madam! Let us see:
Traverse, you are now going on eighteen years of age; if you had your
choice which of the learned professions would you prefer for
yourself--law, physic or divinity?"

The boy looked up and smiled, then dropped his head and seemed to
reflect.

"Perhaps you have never thought upon the subject. Well, you must take
time, so as to be firm in your decision when you have once decided,"
said the doctor.

"Oh, sir, I have thought of it long, and my choice has been long and
firmly decided, were I only free to follow it."

"Speak, lad; what is your choice?"

"Why, don't you know, sir? Can't you guess? Why, your own profession, of
course, sir! certainly, sir, I could not think of any other!" exclaimed
the boy, with sparkling eyes and flushed cheeks.

"That's my own lad!" exclaimed the doctor, enthusiastically, seizing the
boy's hand with one of his and clapping the other down upon his
palm--for if the doctor had an admiration in the world it was for his
own profession. "That's my own lad! My profession! the healing art! Why,
it is the only profession worthy the study of an immortal being! Law
sets people by the ears together. Divinity should never be considered as
a profession--it is a divine mission! Physic--physic, my boy! the
healing art! that's the profession for you! And I am very glad to hear
you declare for it, too, for now the way is perfectly clear!"

Both mother and son looked up in surprise.

"Yes, the way is perfectly clear! Nothing is easier! Traverse shall come
and read medicine in my office! I shall be glad to have the lad there.
It will amuse me to give him instruction occasionally. I have a positive
mania for teaching!"

"And for doing good! Oh, sir, how have we deserved this kindness at your
hands, and how shall we ever, ever repay it?" cried Mrs. Rocke, in a
broken voice, while the tears filled her gentle eyes.

"Oh, pooh, pooh! a mere nothing, ma'am! a mere nothing for me to do,
whatever it may prove to him. It is very hard, indeed, if I am to be
crushed under a cart-load of thanks for doing something for a bo