Perhaps better! How full of force is the suggestion! I wonder if no one will let this history of the young Halliburtons read a lesson to them? Many a student, used worse by fortune and the world than he thinks he deserves, might take it to himself with profit. Do not let it be flung away as a fancy picture; endeavour to make it your reality. A career, worked out as theirs was, insures success as a necessity. "Ah!" you may think, "I am poor; I can't hope to achieve such things." Poor! What were they? What's that you say? "There are so many difficulties in the way!" Quite true; there are difficulties in the way of attaining most things worth having; but they are only placed there to be overcome. Like the hillocks and stumbling-blocks in that dream that came to Mr. Halliburton when he was dying, they are placed there to be subdued, not to be shunned in fear, or turned from in idleness. Whatever may be your object in life, work on for it. Be you heir to a dukedom, or be your heritage that of daily toil, an object you must have: a man who has none is the most miserable being on the face of the earth. Bear manfully onward and attain the prize. Toil may be hard, but it will grow lighter as you advance; impediments may be disheartening, but they are not insurmountable; privations may be painful, but you are working on to plenty; temptations to indolence, to flagging, to that many-headed monster, sin, may be pulling at you; but they will not stir you from your path an inch, unless you choose to let them do so. Only be resolute; only regard trustingly the end, and labour for it; and it will surely come. It may look in the distance so far off that the very hope of attaining it seems but a chimera. Never mind; bear hopefully on, and the distance will lessen palpably with every step. No real good was ever attained to in this world without working for it. No real good, as I honestly believe, was ever gained, unless God's blessing went with the endeavours to attain it. Make a friend of God. Do that, and fight your way on, doing your duty, and you will find the goal: as the sons of Mrs. Halliburton did.
Jane was sitting alone one afternoon in her parlour. She was little changed. None, looking at her, could believe her old enough to be the mother of those three great men, her sons. Not that Gar was particularly great; he was only of middle height. Jane wore a shaded silk dress; and her hair looked as smooth and abundant as in the old days of her girlhood. It was remarkable how little her past troubles had told upon her good looks; how little she was aging.
She saw the postman come to the door, and Dobbs brought in a letter. "It's Mr. Frank's writing," growled Dobbs.
Jane opened it, and found that Frank had been "called." Half his care was over.
"My darling Mother,—I am made a barrister at last. I really am; and I beg you will all receive the announcement with appropriate awe and deference. I was called to-day: and I intend to have a photograph taken of myself in my wig and gown, and send it down to you as a confirmation of the fact. When you see the guy the wig makes of me, you will say you never saw an ugly man before. Tell Dobbs so; it will gladden her heart: don't you remember how she used to assure us, when boys, that we ought to be put under a glass case, as three ultra specimens of ugliness?
"I shall get on now, dearest mother. It may be a little up-hill work at first: but there's no fear. A first-rate law firm has promised me some briefs: and one of these speedy days I shall inevitably take the ears of some court by storm—the jury struck into themselves with the learned counsel's astounding eloquence, and the bar dumb—and then my fortune's made. I need not tell you what circuit I shall patronize, or in how short a time afterwards I intend to be leading it: but I will tell you that my first object in life, when I am up in the world, shall be the ease and comfort of my dear mother. William is not going to do everything, and have you all to himself.
"Talking about William, ask him if he cannot get up some chance litigation, that I may have the honour of appearing for him next assizes. I'll do it all free, gratis, for nothing. Ever your own son,
"Frank."
Jane started up from her chair at the news, almost as a glad child. Who could she find to share it with her? She ran into the next house to Patience. Patience limped a little in her walk still; she would limp always. Anna, in her sober Quaker's cap, the border resting on her fair forehead, looked up from her drawing, and Jane told them the news, and read the letter.
"That is nice," said Patience. "It must be a weight off thy mind."
"I don't know that it is that," replied Jane. "I have never doubted his success. I don't doubt it still. But I am very glad."
"I wish I had a cause to try," cried Anna, who had recovered all her old spirits and her love of chatter. "I would let Frank plead it for me."
"Will you come back with me, Anna, and take tea?" said Jane. "I shall be alone this evening. William is going over to Deoffam Hall."