posed, but disinclined to study, and fond of physical exertion.
He might have been a great man had he been looked after in youth, but no
one looked after him. He was an infant when his father and mother died
and left him to the care of his uncle, who cared not for him, but left
him to care for himself, having, as he conceived, done his duty towards
him when he had supplied him with food, clothing, and lodging, and paid
his school fees. No blame, therefore, to poor Frank that he grew up a
half-educated youth, without fixed habits of study or thought, and with
little capacity for close or prolonged mental exertion.

Mr Allfrey entertained the ridiculous idea that there were only three
grand objects of ambition in life, namely, to work, to eat and drink,
and to sleep. At least, if he did not say in definite terms that such
was his belief, he undoubtedly acted as though it were. His mind
appeared to revolve in a sort of small circle. He worked in order that
he might eat and drink; he ate and drank that he might be strengthened
for work, and he slept in order to recruit his energies that he might be
enabled to work for the purposes of eating and drinking. He was a
species of self-blinded human-horse that walked the everlasting round of
a business-mill of his own creating. It is almost unnecessary to add
that he was selfish to the back-bone, and that the only individual who
did not see the fact was himself.

When Frank reached the age of eighteen, Mr Allfrey called him into his
private "study,"--so called because he was in the habit of retiring
regularly at fixed periods every day to study _nothing_ there,--and,
having bidden him sit down, accosted him thus:--

"Well, boy, have you thought over what I said to you yesterday about
fixing upon some profession? You are aware that you cannot expect to
lead a life of idleness in this world. I know that you are fit for
nothing, but fit or not fit, you must take to something without delay."

Frank felt a sensation of indignation at being spoken to thus rudely,
and in his heart he believed that if he was indeed fit for nothing, his
sad condition was due much more to his uncle's neglect than to his own
perversity. He did not, however, give utterance to the thought, because
he was of a respectful nature; he merely flushed and said,--"Really,
uncle, you do me injustice. I may not be fit for much, and every day I
live I feel bitterly the evil of a neglected education, but--"