The Golden Dream | Page 4

fortune of war went for or against
him.
When Ned had been three years at college, his uncle hinted that it was
time to think of a profession, and suggested that as he was a first-rate
mathematician, and had been fond of mechanics from his childhood, he
should turn an engineer. Ned would probably have agreed to this
cheerfully, had not a thirst for adventure been created by the stirring
accounts which had begun to arrive at this time from the
recently-discovered gold-fields of California. His enthusiastic spirit
was stirred, not so much by the prospect of making a large fortune
suddenly by the finding of a huge nugget--although that was a very
pleasant idea--as by the hope of meeting with wild adventures in that
imperfectly-known and distant land. And the effect of such dreams was
to render the idea of sitting down to an engineer's desk, or in a
mercantile counting-room, extremely distasteful.
Thus it came to pass that Edward Sinton felt indisposed to business,
and disposed to indulge in golden visions.
When he entered the breakfast-parlour, his mind was still full of his
curious dream.
"Come along, my lad," cried Mr. Shirley, laying down the Bible, and
removing his spectacles from a pair of eyes that usually twinkled with a
sort of grave humour, but in which there was now an expression of
perplexity; "set to work and get the edge off your appetite, and then I'll
read Moxton's letter."
When Mr. Shirley had finished breakfast, Ned was about half done,
having just commenced his third slice of toast. So the old gentleman
complimented his nephew on the strength of his appetite, put on his
spectacles, drew a letter from his pocket, and leaned back in his chair.

"Now, lad, open your ears and consider what I am about to read."
"Go on, uncle, I'm all attention," said Ned, attacking slice number four.
"This is Moxton's letter. It runs thus--
"'Dear Sir,--I beg to acknowledge receipt of yours of the 5th inst. I shall
be happy to take your nephew on trial, and, if I find him steady, shall
enter into an engagement with him, I need not add that unremitting
application to business is the only road to distinction in the profession
he is desirous of adopting. Let him call at my office to-morrow
between ten and twelve.--Yours very truly, Daniel Moxton.'"
"Is that all?" inquired Ned, drawing his chair towards the fire, into
which he gazed contemplatively.
Mr. Shirley looked at his nephew over the top of his spectacles, and
said--
"That's all."
"It's very short," remarked Ned.
"But to the point," rejoined his uncle. "Now, boy, I see that you don't
relish the idea, and I must say that I would rather that you became an
engineer than a lawyer; but then, lad, situations are difficult to get
now-a-days, and, after all, you might do worse than become a lawyer.
To be sure, I have no great love for the cloth, Ned; but the ladder
reaches very high. The foot is crowded with a struggling mass of
aspirants, many of whom are of very questionable character, but the top
reaches to one of the highest positions in the empire. You might
become the Lord High Chancellor at last, who knows! But seriously, I
think you should accept this offer. Moxton is a grave, stern man, but a
sterling fellow for all that, and in good practice. Now, what do you
think!"
"Well, uncle," replied Ned, "I've never concealed my thoughts from
you since the day you took me by the hand, eleven years ago, and

brought me to live under your roof; and I'll not begin to dissemble now.
The plain truth is, that I don't like it at all."
"Stop, now," cried Mr. Shirley, with a grieved expression of
countenance; "don't be hasty in forming your opinion. Besides, my boy,
you ought to be more ready to take my advice, even although it be not
altogether palatable."
"My dear uncle, you quite misunderstand me. I only tell you what I
think about the proposal. As to taking your advice, I fully intend to do
that whether I like it or not; but I think, if you will listen to me for a
few minutes, you will change your mind in regard to this matter. You
know that I am very fond of travelling, and that I dislike the idea of
taking up my abode on the top of a three-legged stool, either as a
lawyer's or a merchant's clerk. Well, unless a man likes his profession,
and goes at it with a will, he cannot hope to succeed, so that I have no
prospect of getting on, I fear, in the line you wish me to adopt. Besides,
there are plenty of poor fellows out of