‘And do you still visit her?’

‘No, she soon grew tired of me, and told people that she found me very stupid; she gave me the Armenian books, however.’

‘Saul,’ said my father, musingly, ‘Saul. I am afraid she was only too right there; he disobeyed the commands of his master, and brought down on his head the vengeance of Heaven - he became a maniac, prophesied, and flung weapons about him.’

‘He was, indeed, an awful character - I hope I shan’t turn out like him.’

‘God forbid!’ said my father, solemnly; ‘but in many respects you are headstrong and disobedient like him. I placed you in a profession, and besought you to make yourself master of it by giving it your undivided attention. This, however, you did not do, you know nothing of it, but tell me that you are acquainted with Armenian; but what I dislike most is your want of candour - you are my son, but I know little of your real history, you may know fifty things for what I am aware: you may know how to shoe a horse for what I am aware.’

‘Not only to shoe a horse, father, but to make horse-shoes.’

‘Perhaps so,’ said my father; ‘and it only serves to prove what I was just saying, that I know little about you.’

‘But you easily may, my dear father; I will tell you anything that you may wish to know - shall I inform you how I learnt to make horse-shoes?’

‘No,’ said my father; ‘as you kept it a secret so long, it may as well continue so still. Had you been a frank, open-hearted boy, like one I could name, you would have told me all about it of your own accord. But I now wish to ask you a serious question - what do you propose to do?’

‘To do, father?’

‘Yes! the time for which you were articled to your profession will soon be expired, and I shall be no more.’

‘Do not talk so, my dear father; I have no doubt that you will soon be better.’

‘Do not flatter yourself; I feel that my days are numbered, I am soon going to my rest, and I have need of rest, for I am weary. There, there, don’t weep! Tears will help me as little as they will you; you have not yet answered my question. Tell me what you intend to do?’

‘I really do not know what I shall do.’

‘The military pension which I enjoy will cease with my life. The property which I shall leave behind me will be barely sufficient for the maintenance of your mother respectably. I again ask you what you intend to do. Do you think you can support yourself by your Armenian or your other acquirements?’

‘Alas! I think little at all about it; but I suppose I must push into the world, and make a good fight, as becomes the son of him who fought Big Ben; if I can’t succeed, and am driven to the worst, it is but dying - ‘

‘What do you mean by dying?’

‘Leaving the world; my loss would scarcely be felt. I have never held life in much value, and every one has a right to dispose as he thinks best of that which is his own.’