Perseverance.
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PERSEVERANCE. BY CHARLES READE.
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MR. JUSTICE LUSH. /^N a certain day in the year 18igMr. Chitty, an attorney in Shaftesbury, was leaving his office for the day, when he was met at the door by a respectable woman and a chubby-faced boy with a bright eye. He knew the woman slightly, — a widow that kept a small stationer's shop in the town. She opened her business at once. "Oh, Mr. Chitty, I have brought you my Robert; he gives me no peace, his heart is so set on being in a lawyer's office. But there, I have not got the money to appren tice him. Only we thought perhaps you could find some place or other for him, if it was ever so small." Then she broke off and looked appealingly, and the boy's cheeks and eyes were fired with expectation. Most country towns at that time possessed 70
two solicitors, who might be called types, — the old established man, whose firm for gen erations had done the pacific and lucrative business (wills, settlements, partnerships, mortgages, etc.); and the sharp practitioner, who was the abler of the two at litigation, and had to shake the plum-tree instead of sitting under it and opening his mouth for the windfalls. Mr. Chitty was No. 2. But these sharp practitioners are often very good-natured; and so, looking at the pleading widow and the beaming boy, he felt disposed to oblige them, and rather sorry he could not. He said his was a small office, and he had no clerk's place va cant; " and, indeed, if I had, he is too young; why, he is a mere child!" "I am twelve next so-and-so," said the boy, giving the month and the day. "You don't look it, then," said Mr. Chitty, incredulously. "Indeed, but he is, sir," said the widow; "he never looked his age, and writes a beau tiful hand." "But I tell you I have no vacancy," said Mr. Chitty, turning dogged. "Well, thank you, sir, all the same," said the widow, with the patience of her sex. "Come, Robert, we mustn't detain the gentleman." So they turned away with disappointment marked on their faces, the boy's especially. Then Mr. Chitty said in a hesitating way, "To be sure, there is a vacancy, but it is not the sort of thing for you." "What is it, sir, if you please? " asked the widow. "Well, we want an office boy." "An office boy! What do you say, Rob ert? I suppose it is a beginning, sir. What will he have to do?" "Why, sweep the office, run errands, carry papers, — and that is not what he is after.
