ew."

"Still--one of your uncles is a lord, though rather an obscure and not a
very wealthy one, and the other a right honourable: you should consider
worldly interest."

"Nonsense, Mr. Hunsden. You know or may know that even had I desired to
be submissive to my uncles, I could not have stooped with a good enough
grace ever to have won their favour. I should have sacrificed my own
comfort and not have gained their patronage in return."

"Very likely--so you calculated your wisest plan was to follow your own
devices at once?"

"Exactly. I must follow my own devices--I must, till the day of my
death; because I can neither comprehend, adopt, nor work out those of
other people."

Hunsden yawned. "Well," said he, "in all this, I see but one thing
clearly-that is, that the whole affair is no business of mine." He
stretched himself and again yawned. "I wonder what time it is," he went
on: "I have an appointment for seven o'clock."

"Three quarters past six by my watch."

"Well, then I'll go." He got up. "You'll not meddle with trade again?"
said he, leaning his elbow on the mantelpiece.

"No; I think not."

"You would be a fool if you did. Probably, after all, you'll think
better of your uncles' proposal and go into the Church."

"A singular regeneration must take place in my whole inner and outer man
before I do that. A good clergyman is one of the best of men."

"Indeed! Do you think so?" interrupted Hunsden, scoffingly.

"I do, and no mistake. But I have not the peculiar points which go to
make a good clergyman; and rather than adopt a profession for which I
have no vocation, I would endure extremities of hardship from poverty."

"You're a mighty difficult customer to suit. You won't be a tradesman
or a parson; you can't be a lawyer, or a doctor, or a gentleman, because
you've no money. I'd recommend you to travel."

"What! without money?"

"You must travel in search of money, man. You can speak French--with
a vile English accent, no doubt--still, you can speak it. Go on to the
Continent, and see what will turn up for you there."

"God knows I should like to go!" exclaimed I with involuntary ardour.

"Go: what the deuce hinders you? You may get to Brussels, for instance,
for five or six pounds, if you know how to manage with economy."

"Necessity would teach me if I didn't."

"Go, then, and let your wits make a way for you when you get there. I
know Brussels almost as well as I know X----, and I am su