r him. He had obtained the insertion of a tale in a magazine, for
which he had one guinea in payment. This raised his spirits, and gave
him a hope of independence; for it was a parting of the clouds, and
there was no saying how much sunlight might be let down. He was willing
to apply himself to any drudgery; but his care to undertake nothing that
he was not sure of doing well was very striking. He might have obtained
good work as classical proof-corrector; but he feared, that, though his
classical attainments were good, his training had not qualified him
for the necessary accuracy. He had some employment of the sort, if I
remember right, which defrayed a portion of his small expenses. His
expenses were indeed small. He told me all his little gains and his
weekly outlay; and I was really afraid that he did not allow himself
sufficient food. Yet he knew that there was a little money in my hands,
when he wanted it. His letters became now very gay in spirits. He keenly
relished the society into which he was invited; and, on the other hand,
everybody liked him. It was amusing to me, in my sick room, three
hundred miles off, to hear of the impression he made, with his
innocence, his fresh delight in his new life, his candor, his modesty,
and his bright cleverness,--and then, again, to learn how diligently he
had set about learning what I, his correspondent, was really like. In
his dreams he had seen me very aged,--he thought upwards of eighty; and
he had never doubted of the fact being so. In one letter he told me,
that, finding a brother of mine was then in London, he was going that
afternoon to a public meeting to see him, in order to have some idea of
my aspect. A mutual friend told me afterwards that Patrick had come away
quite bewildered and disappointed. He had expected to see in my brother
a gray-haired ancient; whereas he found a man under forty. I really
believe he was disturbed that his dreams had misled him. Yet I never
observed any other sign of superstition in him.

At last the happy day came when he had a literary task worthy of him,--a
sort of test of his capacity for reviewing. One of the friends to whom
I had introduced him was then sub-editor of the "Athenaeum,"--a weekly
periodical of higher reputation at that time than now. Patrick was
commissioned to review a book of some weight and consequence,--Sir
Robert Kane's "Industrial Resources of Ireland,"--and he did it so well
that the conductors hoped to give h