r. Prendergast plainly showed by the tone of his voice
that he did not admire the wisdom of this new policy of which he
spoke.

"But I suppose a man must work five years before he can earn
anything," said Herbert, still despondingly; for five years is a long
time to an expectant lover.

"Fifteen years of unpaid labour used not to be thought too great a
price to pay for ultimate success," said Mr. Prendergast, almost
sighing at the degeneracy of the age. "But men in those days were
ambitious and patient."

"And now they are ambitious and impatient," suggested Herbert.

"Covetous and impatient might perhaps be the truer epithets," said
Mr. Prendergast with grim sarcasm.

It is sad for a man to feel, when he knows that he is fast going down
the hill of life, that the experience of old age is to be no longer
valued nor its wisdom appreciated. The elderly man of this day thinks
that he has been robbed of his chance in life. When he was in his
full physical vigour he was not old enough for mental success. He was
still winning his spurs at forty. But at fifty--so does the world
change--he learns that he is past his work. By some unconscious and
unlucky leap he has passed from the unripeness of youth to the decay
of age, without even knowing what it was to be in his prime. A man
should always seize his opportunity; but the changes of the times in
which he has lived have never allowed him to have one. There has been
no period of flood in his tide which might lead him on to fortune.
While he has been waiting patiently for high water the ebb has come
upon him. Mr. Prendergast himself had been a successful man, and his
regrets, therefore, were philosophical rather than practical. As for
Herbert, he did not look upon the question at all in the same light
as his elderly friend, and on the whole was rather exhilarated by
the tone of Mr. Prendergast's sarcasm. Perhaps Mr. Prendergast had
intended that such should be its effect.

The long evening passed away cosily enough, leaving on Herbert's mind
an impression that in choosing to be a barrister he had certainly
chosen the noblest walk of life in which a man could earn his bread.
Mr. Prendergast did not promise him either fame or fortune, nor did
he speak by any means in high enthusiastic language; he said much of
the necessity of long hours, of tedious work, of Amaryllis left by
herself in the shade, and of Neaera's locks unheeded; but nevertheless
he spoke in a manner to arou