y in his earlier steps to
knowledge, had repined at his position in the many degrees of
life--certainly he was still ambitious--certainly he could not now have
returned contentedly to the humble occupation he had left; and woe to
the young man who does not hear with a quickened pulse, and brightening
eye, words that promise independence, and flatter with a hope of
distinction. Still, it was with all the reaction of chill and mournful
disappointment that Leonard, a few hours after this dialogue with his
uncle, found himself alone in the fields, and pondering over the
prospects before him. He had set his heart upon completing his
intellectual education, upon developing those powers within him which
yearned for an arena of literature, and revolted from the routine of
trade. But to his credit be it said that he vigorously resisted this
natural disappointment, and by degrees schooled himself to look
cheerfully on the path imposed on his duty, and sanctioned by the manly
sense that was at the core of his character.

I believe that this self-conquest showed that the boy had true genius.
The false genius would have written sonnets and despaired.

But still Richard Avenel left his nephew sadly perplexed as to the
knotty question from which their talk on the future had diverged--viz.
should he write to the parson; and assure the fears of his mother? How
do so without Richard's consent, when Richard had on a former occasion
so imperiously declared that, if he did, it would lose his mother all
that Richard intended to settle on her. While he was debating this
matter with his conscience, leaning against a stile that interrupted a
path to the town, Leonard Fairfield was startled by an exclamation. He
looked up, and beheld Mr. Sprott the tinker.

CHAPTER XV.

The tinker, blacker and grimmer than ever, stared hard at the altered
person of his old acquaintance, and extended his sable fingers, as if
inclined to convince himself by the sense of touch, that it was Leonard
in the flesh that he beheld, under vestments so marvellously elegant and
preternaturally spruce.

Leonard shrank mechanically from the contact, while in great surprise he
faltered--

"You here, Mr. Sprott! What could bring you so far from home?"

"'Ome!" echoed the tinker, "I 'as no 'ome! or rayther, d'ye see, Muster
Fairfilt, I makes myself at 'ome verever I goes! Lor' love ye I ben't
settled in no parridge. I vanders here and vanders there, and that's my
'ome