them awful draughts and pills as big as acorns
to get down the best way they can. And yet
there is an attendance which is not put into the
bill, but which is the very core of the visit, all
the rest being husk and rind; there is a thoughtfulness
beyond professional skill, and a human
kindness more than medical care, which no one
pays for, because no one can pay for it, yet
which is that grace beyond duty that vitalises
the whole. The doctor who does not, or who
cannot, give this, gives only half his skill and
never makes his way; and he who can naturally
and without affectation give most of it, is he
who gets to the " top of the tree," while his
humbler brethren are making whistles out of the
lower branches.

So with the clergyman. His duty, indeed, is
but the driest of dry bones unless warmed up
by human love and charity, and then it becomes
the dearest and most refreshing of all that the
needy can receive. So with other professions,
saving perhaps the lawyer, who, if he does his
duty—no more neither less—does all that can be
asked of him, his profession being mathematical
and to be spoilt by exuberances.

But as a rule duty is the mere outside of
everything, the form and the appearance not
touching the inner core. Thus, it is our duty
to go to church, but if we do not say our
prayers and do ogle our neighbours, we may
have done our duty but assuredly we have done
no good. It is our duty to nurse the sick, but
if we give them their potions punctually and
shake up their pillows deftly, yet drop bitter
words into their anodynes at the same time,
is doing our duty there of much real value
to them or to ourselves? Go through the
whole round of human circumstance and it
is ever the same: duty the letter that killeth,
and love the spirit that giveth life; duty the
husk and rind, and love the core and the heart;
duty an algebraic quantity, not x, and love
the unfathomable depths of a genius which
creates, and of a passion which inspires.

CLEMENT CAREW.
IN FOUR CHAPTERS. CHAPTER III.

"WELL, sir, one day my master told me he had
got me a situation. I was engaged to wait on
the steward's room at the Earl of Normanbury's.

"' Now, Clem,' said he, with his honest eyes
looking full into mine, ' you have your future
before you. With some boys I might feel a
doubt whether I had done right in saying nothing
of the—the past to this steward; with you I
have none. I know that you will keep your
promise to me.'

"' I will, sir.'

"' I know that you will live down the evil
that has attached to your name, and make
yourself a new and upright character.'

"' God bless you, sir, for trusting me. I will.'

"I went to my place, and found it a hard one.
The ladies and gentlemen of the steward's room
were difficult to please. I have waited on many
real ones since, and found them considerably
less so. But the set at Normanbury Park was
a tip-top set, as Mr. Latchup the steward took
care to inform me the very first day. ' Everythink
in my apartments is most helegant,' said he; 'I
see to that myself. We have things first-rate,
we have; and of course are waited on according.
His lordship ain't half as particklar how he's
served, as I am for my ladies and gentlemen.'
And this was true. I found, too, that the
steward's boy was expected to do pretty nearly
the whole work of the establishment, and to ' do
it willing.' ' None of yer hidle airs here!' the
second footman said to me one day, when I
remonstrated against doing some special work
of his. ' Who are you, pray, to talk to me
about trouble? Why, a whipper-snapper like
you has no call to know the meanin' of the word.'

"I had no proper name in that house. I
was, ' Buttons!''  'Lout!' ' Young Shaver!'
'Whipper-snapper!' 'Butter-fingers!' ' You
Booby!' ' Lazybones!' ' Now, Stoopid!' ' Great
Gawk!' and a dozen other such flattering
appellations. I was boxed, cuffed, sworn at,
ridiculed, abused. My eyes were apostrophised
in a manner far from complimentary. My
awkwardness and vulgarity were a theme for
continual comment. I had work and kicks in
plenty, but no love. It was undeniably a hard
place.

"Mr. Latchup was a great man in every sense
of the word; more than six feet high, and large
in proportion. He had a grand manner, used
grand language, and walked the floors grandly.
They trembled under him, as did I. Nature
seemed to me to have made a mistake in his
case, and whilst he ought to have been the Earl
of Normanbury, that nobleman, a little bald-
headed personage, who sneaked about the house
as though he was afraid to meet his own servants,
should have been the steward. I saw many
strange things there, which opened my mind
not a little. I saw the contrast between the
luxurious table of a great man's steward's room,
and the meagre fare of a poor curate, though
the latter was a gentleman born and bred. I
saw the waste, the airs, and extravagance of
this pampered part of society, who eat, and don't
pay. I saw the jealousies, the heart-burnings,
the contentions, the love-making, that went on
in those luxurious lower regions; and I saw a
great deal more that I won't even allude to
here. For, although I was ' Stoopid!' and a
' Booby!' I had eyes, and used them.

"In course of time, by dint of cuffs and hard
names on the part of those ladies and gentlemen,
and hard trying on mine, I had learnt my business
pretty thoroughly, and they were good
enough to keep me tolerably well up to it. Mr.
Latchup sometimes condescended to say I was
not a bad sort of young feller, take me
altogether, though deuced low. But that was my
calamity. It was not every one as was born
with elevated idears, nor how could it be
expected of the lower orders? Of course not.

"But in sixteen months there came a thunderclap.
The butcher in B——whose meat I had