ht be obtained, the better the profession; the easier
the labour also, the better the profession; the less restriction that
might be laid on a man in his pleasurable enjoyment of the world, the
better the profession. This was Sir Lionel's view of a profession,
and it must be acknowledged that, though his view was commonplace, it
was also common sense; that he looked at the matter as a great many
people look at it; and that his ideas were at any rate sufficiently
intelligible. But George Bertram's view was different, and much less
easy of explanation. He had an idea that in choosing a profession
he should consider, not so much how he should get the means of
spending his life, but how he should in fact spend it. He would
have, in making this choice, to select the pursuit to which he would
devote that amount of power and that amount of life which God should
allot to him. Fathers and mothers, uncles and aunts, guardians and
grandfathers, was not this a singular view for a young man to take in
looking at such a subject?

But in truth George was somewhat afflicted by a _tete monte_ in this
matter. I say afflicted, because, having imagination and ideality to
lead him to high views, he had not a sufficient counterbalance in
his firmness of character. If his father was too mundane, he was too
transcendental. As for instance, he approved at the present moment,
in theory, of the life of a parish clergyman; but could he have
commenced the life to-morrow, he would at once have shrunk from its
drudgery.

They did not understand each other; perceiving which, Sir Lionel gave
up the subject. He was determined not to make himself disagreeable to
his son. He, at any rate, intended to make him no allowance, to give
him no fortune, and was aware, therefore, that he had no right to
interfere otherwise than as his advice might be asked. Nor indeed had
he any wish to do so, if he could only instil into the young man's
mind a few--not precepts; precepts are harsh and disagreeable--a few
comfortable friendly hints as to the tremendous importance of the
game which might be played with Mr. George Bertram senior. If he
could only do this pleasantly, and without offence to his son, he
would attempt nothing further.

He turned the conversation, and they talked agreeably on other
matters--of Oxford, of the Wilkinsons, of Harcourt, and by degrees
also a little of uncle George.

"What sort of a house does my brother keep at Hadley--eh, George?
Dul