variety, as he had formerly done, by constantly
stealing off to the neighbouring town. His
father had paid all the debts that he knew of,
soon after Benjamin had gone up to London;
so there were no duns that his parents knew of
to alarm him, and keep him at home. And he
went out in the morning with the old man, his
father, and lounged by his side, as Nathan went
round his fields, with busy yet infirm gait,
having heart, as he would have expressed it, in
all that was going on, because at length his son
seemed to take an interest in all the farming
affairs, and stood patiently by his side, while he
compared his own small galloways with the great
short-horns looming over his neighbour's hedge.

"It's a slovenly way, thou seest, that of selling
th' milk; folk don't care whether it's good or not,
so that they get their pint-measure full o' stuff
that's watered afore it leaves th' beast, instead
o' honest cheating by the help o' th' pump. But
look at Bessy's butter, what skill it shows!
part her own manner of making, and part good
choice o' cattle. It's a pleasure to see her
basket, a' packed ready for to go to market;
and it's noan o' a pleasure for to see the buckets
fu' of their blue starch-water as yon beasts give.
I'm thinking they crossed th' breed wi' a pump,
not long sin'. Hech! but our Bessy's a cleaver
canny wench! I sometimes think thou'lt be for
gi'ng up th' law, and taking to th' oud trade,
when thou wedst wi' her!" This was intended
to be a skilful way of ascertaining whether there
was any ground for the old farmer's wish and
prayer that Benjamin might give up the law, and
return to the primitive occupation of his father.
Nathan dared to hope it now, since his son had
never made much by his profession, owing, as
he had said, to his want of a connexion: and the
farm, and the stock, and the clean wife, too, were
ready to his hand; and Nathan could safely
rely on himself never in his most unguarded
moments, to reproach his son with the hardly-
earned hundreds that had been spent on his
education. So the old man listened with painful
interest to the answer which his son was
evidently struggling to make; coughing a little
and blowing his nose before he spoke.

"Well! you see, father, law is a precarious
livelihood; a man, as I may express myself, has
no chance in the profession unless he is known
—known to the judges, and tiptop barristers,
and that sort of thing. Now you see my
mother and you have no acquaintance that you
may call exactly in that line. But luckily I have
met with a man, a friend as I may say, who is
really a first-rate fellow, knowing everybody, from
the Lord Chancellor downwards; and he has
offered me a share in his business a partnership
in short—" He hesitated a little.

"I'm sure that's uncommon kind of the
gentleman," said Nathan. "I should like for to thank
him mysen; for it's not many as would pick up
a young chap out o' th' dirt as it were, and say,
'Here's hauf my good fortune for you, sir, and
your very good health.' Most on 'em, when
they're gettin' a bit o' luck, run off wi' it to
keep it a' to themselves, and gobble it down in
a corner. What may be his name, for I should
like for to know it ?"

"You don't quite apprehend me, father. A
great deal of what you've said is true to the
letter. People don't like to share their good
luck, as you say."

"The more credit to them as does," broke in
Nathan.

"Ay, but you see even such a fine fellow as
my friend Cavendish does not like to give away
half his good practice for nothing. He expects
an equivalent."

"An equivalent," said Nathan: his voice had
dropped down an octave. "And what may that
be? There's always some meaning in grand
words, I take it, though I'm not book-larned
enough to find it out."

"Why, in this case the equivalent he demands
for taking me into partnership, and afterwards
relinquishing the whole business to me, is three
hundred pounds down."

Benjamin looked sideways from under his
eyes to see how his father took the proposition.
His father struck his stick deep down in the
ground, and leaning one hand upon it, faced
round at him.

"Then thy fine friend may go and be hanged.
Three hunder pound! I'll be darned an'
danged too, if I know where to get 'em, e'en if
I'd be making a fool o' thee an' mysen too."

He was out of breath by this time. His son
took his father's first words in dogged silence;
it was but the burst of surprise he had led
himself to expect, and did not daunt him for long.

"I should think, sir—"

"' Sir'—whatten for dost thou  'sir' me? Is
them's your manners? I'm plain Nathan
Huntroyd; who never took on to be a gentleman:
but I have paid my way up to this time, which I
shannot do much longer, if I'm to have a son
coming an' asking me for three hunder pounds, just
as if I were a cow, and had nothing to do but let
down my milk to the first person as strokes me."

"Well, father," said Benjamin, with an
affectation of frankness, "then there's nothing
for me but to do as I have often planned before;
go and emigrate."

"And what?" said his father, looking sharply
and steadily at him.

"Emigrate. Go to America, or India, or
some colony where there would be an opening
for a young man of spirit."

Benjamin had reserved this proposition for his
trump card, expecting by means of it to carry
all before him. But to his surprise his father
plucked his stick out of the hole he had made
when he so vehemently thrust it into the ground,
and walked on four or five steps in advance;
there he stood still again, and there was a dead
silence for a few minutes.

"It 'ud, mebby, be th' best thing thou couldst
do," the father began. Benjamin set his teeth
hard to keep in curses. It was well for poor
Nathan he did not look round then, and see the
look his son gave him. "But it would come
hard like upon us, upon Hester and me, for,
whether thou'rt a good 'un or not, thou'rt our