"But, Phineas, don't imagine I intend to hate it always; I intend to
get used to it, as many a better fellow than I has got used to many a
worse thing. It's wicked to hate what wins one's bread, and is the
only thing one is likely to get on in the world with, merely because
it's disagreeable."

"You are a wise lad of your age, John."

"Now don't you be laughing at me." (But I was not, I was in solemn
earnest). "And don't think I'm worse than I am; and especially that
I'm not thankful to your good father for giving me a lift in the
world--the first I ever really had. If I get one foot on the ladder,
perhaps I may climb."

"I should rather believe so," answered I, very confidently. "But you
seem to have thought a good deal about these sort of things."

"Oh, yes! I have plenty of time for thinking, and one's thoughts
travel fast enough lying on this bark-heap--faster than indoors. I
often wish I could read--that is, read easily. As it is, I have
nothing to do but to think, and nothing to think of but myself, and
what I should like to be."

"Suppose, after Dick Whittington's fashion, you succeeded to your
master's business, should you like to be a tanner?"

He paused--his truthful face betraying him. Then he said,
resolutely, "I would like to be anything that was honest and
honourable. It's a notion of mine, that whatever a man may be, his