I am free to confess, but I will hear what she says. And that very evening Louisa Daventry was consulted, and never shall I forget her look of absolute horror as she exclaimed, “An attor- ney’s clerk! What! and wear short black gait- ers!” The affair was finished! I resolved firmly, and swore to Louisa, never to be classed with a body of men chargeable with short black gaiters! But knowing my father’s prejudices in favour of the road to wealth, and that he did not view short black gaiters in the same light with Louisa and myself, I returned home full only of the honour of our family, and represented to him that it would be highly unbecoming that one of the ancient house of Squanderly should become an attorney’s clerk. My father very coolly an- swered, that our ancient house could no longer keep our ancient family; that, in short, he could not support me in idleness, and that I must ac- cept Mr. W.’s offer or remain a burden to him; a thing, which in justice to my sisters, he could not permit. He told me, further, to be under no sort of uneasiness about the honour of the family, reminding me that I was only a younger son, and that my eldest brother was charged with the maintenance of our house’s dignity, while I was free to get rich as I could, like other younger brothers. With all respect I intimated to him that he was entirely in error in his view of the matter, and that.my regard to the name of the Squanderlys must compel me to disobey his commands. I observed on the baseness of mak-- ing sacrifices to wealth, and quoted such pas- sages from the classics as my education had stored me with in disparagement of riches. My father’s good opinion of wealth remained unsha- kem* however, and he was wholly unmoved by my citations. I dared not quote my best autho- rity, Louisa, nor could I urge the black gaiters; this was, I felt, an* argument for refined souls, and somehow or other, with every respect for my father, I knew that it would be worse than thrown away on him.
I need not describe the details of the contest; my father was what I called obstinate, and I what I called firm. The substance of the argument between us might be summed up in these common forms of disputation, “you shall,” and “I won't.”
Through the kindness of a friend, Mr. W. was duly informed of the gracious reception I had given to his kind offer, and of the consequent dispute raging between father and son. On learning these circumstances he wrote at once to my father, entreating him to put no force on the yeung gentleman’s inclinations, regretting that his proposal, meant for the best, should have occasioned domestic uneasiness, and hoping that no more would be thought about the matter. My father, however, who knew the advantage of getting rid of his children, replied to such effect as to bind Mr. W. to his offer, but with this pro- viso—that I should go up to town and attend the office of Mr. W. regularly for six months, after which time I should be free to make my final election. My father further entered into a treaty with me to allow me, during this period, at the rate of £200 a-year, while I punctually attendéd the office, but in default of attendance the allow- ance was to be stopped. These arrangements having been made, I was packed off to London, having only just had time to snatch a parting in- terview with Louisa Daventry, in which I vowed never to be an attorney’s clerk, and we mutually swore to preserve unshaken constancy.
It is unnecessary to tell the reader that I of course imputed the vexatious resolution of my father to the machinations of my step-mother; and also failed not to lay to her account a kind of hint that Louisa’s father, Sir Toby, had given me, that my visits to his house were favours which he should value more highly if they were rarer. My step-mother, however, had in truth nothing to do either'with the one affair or the other, for she was a harmless, inoffensive being, possessed of one all-absorbing wish, which was to increase the family of the Squanderlys.
While on my journey to London I consoled myself under all my cares with the idea of the many-pleasures that awaited me in the capital; _ but after the novelty of the first two or three days had worn off, I cannot describe how much, and in how many small points of comfort I de- plored the change in my habits of life. I thought of our dear skies and pleasant fields, and sighed at the view of dull, dirty-houses, and a dun-co- loured canopy of smoke over head, which ex- cluded the sight of even a cloud fresh from the country. From sheer ennui I took to the office for a few days, but when there I was expected to share in its duties,and I hated the look of the parchments more than the view of the smoked buildings of Gloucester-street, and found copy- ing an indenture more intolerable than the soli- tude of my dingy apartment. This did not last long. I began to haunt the theatres at night, (the first step in Raff’s progress,) and to read novels and romances in the day, abandoned Mr. W.’s altogether, killed time, spent my money, ran in debt, and got letters of reproach from my father, nay, even from my brothers. To make short of the discreditable details, at last, I re- ceived a resolute warning from my father, that if I did not resume my attendance at Mr. W.’s, and make up my mind to avail myself of the means offered of procuring my bread, justice to the other members of his family required that he should withdraw my allowance, and leave me to pursue my own course. This communication somewhat shocked me; but I thought of Louisa, and resolved to suffer the last extremity rather than degrade myself in her bright eyes. I there- fore persevered in the cause which had drawn down my father’s displeasure, and after the lapse of a fortnight received from him the following letter:—
“Henry—As I hear that my last admonition has not induced you to present yourself at Mr. W.’s, I must take it for granted that some means of making your fortune have occurred to you of which I am not at present aware. You decline
one sure way to a competence; I must therefore