peg, which can only be
tight and comfortable in a square hole. It is no use arguing, Farmer:
your boy must go to his uncle; and there's an end of the matter."

"By goles!" said the farmer, "you seem to think you can talk me out of
my senses."

"No; but I think if you had your own way you would talk your son into
the workhouse."

"What! by sticking to the land like his father before him? Let a man
stick by the land, and the land will stick by him."

"Let a man stick in the mud, and the mud will stick to him. You put
your heart in your farm, and your son would only put his foot into it.
Courage! Don't you see that Time is a whirligig, and all things come
round? Every day somebody leaves the land and goes off into trade. By
and by he grows rich, and then his great desire is to get back to
the land again. He left it the son of a farmer: he returns to it as a
squire. Your son, when he gets to be fifty, will invest his savings in
acres, and have tenants of his own. Lord, how he will lay down the law
to them! I would not advise you to take a farm under him."

"Catch me at it!" said the farmer. "He would turn all the contents of
the 'pothecary's shop into my fallows, and call it 'progress.'"

"Let him physic the fallows when he has farms of his own: keep yours out
of his chemical clutches. Come, I shall tell him to pack up and be off
to his uncle's next week?"

"Well, well," said the farmer, in a resigned tone: "a wilful man must
e'en have his way."

"And the best thing a sensible man can do is not to cross it. Mr.
Saunderson, give me your honest hand. You are one of those men who put
the sons of good fathers in mind of their own; and I think of mine when
I say 'God bless you!'"

Quitting the farmer, Kenelm re-entered the house, and sought Mr.
Saunderson junior in his own room. He found that young gentleman still
up, and reading an eloquent tract on the Emancipation of the Human Race
from all Tyrannical Control,--Political, Social, Ecclesiastical, and
Domestic.

The lad looked up sulkily, and said, on encountering Kenelm's
melancholic visage, "Ah! I see you have talked with the old governor,
and he'll not hear of it."

"In the first place," answered Kenelm, "since you value yourself on
a superior education, allow me to advise you to study the English
language, as the forms of it are maintained by the elder authors, whom,
in spite of an Age of Progress, men of superior education esteem. No one
who has gone through