country gentlemen, with a dark green coat and velvet collar, a frill
shirt, and a little bit of buf. waistcoat seen under his coat, which he
keeps buttoned. He had got lots of books, and papers, and files about,
and sat hi an arm-chair so cosily--in fact, I should not have thought
that nice carpeted room was really an office, if it had not been for the
ground-glass windows. Just as I was thinking why it was the glorious
sunshine is not admitted into offices, Mr. Compton said--"

"What did he say, George? I have waited so patiently to hear."

"He said, 'Well, _Mr_. Weston,'--(he did really call me Mr. Weston,
mother; I suppose he took me for a young man: it is evident he did not
know I was wearing a stick-up shirt collar for the first time in my
life)--'I have read this letter, and am inclined to think I may be able
to do something for you.' That put my 'spirits up,' as poor father used
to say; and I said, 'I'm very glad to hear it, Sir.' So then he told me
that he wanted a junior clerk in his office, who could write quickly, be
brisk at accounts, and make himself generally useful, as the
advertisements in the _Times_ say. I told him I could do all these
things; and he passed me a sheet of paper, to give him a specimen of my
handwriting. I hardly knew what to write, but I fixed upon a passage of
Scripture, 'Not slothful in business, fervent in spirit, serving the
Lord.' My hand was so shaky, that all the letters with tails to them had
the queerest flourishes you ever saw. Mr. Compton smiled when I handed
him the sheet of paper--I don't know whether it was at the writing, or
at the quotation, and I wished I had written a passage from Seneca
instead!"

"You did not feel ashamed at having written a part of God's word, did
you, George?"