ts, determined to apply for the first vacancy which presented
itself.

Wandering aimlessly on, he came presently upon a bookseller's shop,
outside which were displayed several trays of second-hand volumes which
attracted his attention. Jeffreys loved books and was a voracious
reader, and in the midst of his wearisome search for work it was like a
little harbour of refuge to come upon a nest of them here. Just,
however, as he was about to indulge in the delicious luxury of turning
over the contents of the tempting trays, his eye was attracted by a
half-sheet of note-paper gummed on to the shop window and bearing the
inscription, "Assistant wanted. Apply within."

Next instant Jeffreys stood within.

"I see you want an assistant," said he to the old spectacled bookseller
who inquired his business.

"That's right."

"Will you take me?"

The man glanced up and down at his visitor and said doubtfully,--

"Don't know you--are you in the trade?"

"No, I've just left school."

"What do you know about books?"

"I love them," replied the candidate simply.

The bookseller's face lit up and shot a glow of hope into the boy's
heart.

"You love them. I like that. But take my advice, young fellow, and if
you love books, don't turn bookseller."

Jeffreys' face fell.

"I'm not afraid of getting to hate them," said he.

The man beamed again.

"What's your name, my lad?"

"John Jeffreys."

"And you've just left school? What school?"

Alas! poor Jeffreys! It cost him a struggle to utter the name.

"Bolsover."

"Bolsover, eh? Do you know Latin?"

"Yes--and Greek," replied the candidate.

The bookseller took up a book that lay on the table. It was an old and
valuable edition of Pliny's _Epistles_.

"Read us some of that."

Jeffreys was able fairly well to accomplish the task, greatly to the
delight of the old bookseller.

"Capital! You're the first chap I ever had who could read Pliny off."

Jeffreys' face lit up. The man spoke as if the thing was settled.

"How will fifteen shillings a week and your meals suit you?" said he.

"Perfectly!" replied the candidate.

"Hum! you've got a character, of course?"

Poor Jeffreys' face fell.

"Do you mean testimonials?"

"No. You can refer to some one who knows you--your old schoolmaster,
for instance."

"I'm afraid not," faltered the boy.

The man looked perplexed.

"Couldn't get a character from him--why not?"

"Because I ran away from s