f his remarks indicated a
much greater advance. His name was Arthur Mervyn. He described himself
as having passed his life at the plough-tail and the threshing-floor; as
being destitute of all scholastic instruction; and as being long since
bereft of the affectionate regards of parents and kinsmen.

When questioned as to the course of life which he meant to pursue upon
his recovery, he professed himself without any precise object. He was
willing to be guided by the advice of others, and by the lights which
experience should furnish. The country was open to him, and he supposed
that there was no part of it in which food could not be purchased by his
labour. He was unqualified, by his education, for any liberal
profession. His poverty was likewise an insuperable impediment. He could
afford to spend no time in the acquisition of a trade. He must labour,
not for future emolument, but for immediate subsistence. The only
pursuit which his present circumstances would allow him to adopt was
that which, he was inclined to believe, was likewise the most eligible.
Without doubt his experience was slender, and it seemed absurd to
pronounce concerning that of which he had no direct knowledge; but so it
was, he could not outroot from his mind the persuasion that to plough,
to sow, and to reap, were employments most befitting a reasonable
creature, and from which the truest pleasure and the least pollution
would flow. He contemplated no other scheme than to return, as soon as
his health should permit, into the country, seek employment where it was
to be had, and acquit himself in his engagements with fidelity and
diligence.

I pointed out to him various ways in which the city might furnish
employment to one with his qualifications. He had said that he was
somewhat accustomed to the pen. There were stations in which the
possession of a legible hand was all that was requisite. He might add to
this a knowledge of accounts, and thereby procure himself a post in some
mercantile or public office.

To this he objected, that experience had shown him unfit for the life of
a penman. This had been his chief occupation for a little while, and he
found it wholly incompatible with his health. He must not sacrifice the
end for the means. Starving was a disease preferable to consumption.
Besides, he laboured merely for the sake of living, and he lived merely
for the sake of pleasure. If his tasks should enable him to live, but,
at the same time, b