In making this examination, Alfred Stevens was not awakened to any generous purposes. He designed, in reality, nothing more than to acquit himself of the duty he had undertaken with the smallest possible exertion. His own mind was one of that mediocre character which the heart never informs. His scrutiny, therefore, though it enabled him to perceive that the young man had qualities of worth, was not such as to prompt any real curiosity to examine further. A really superior mind would have been moved to look into these resources; and, without other motive than that of bringing a young, laboring, and ardent soul out of the meshes of a new and bewildering thought or situation, would have addressed himself to the task with that degree of solicitous earnestness which disarms prejudice and invites and wins confidence. But, with his first impression, that the whole business was a “bore,” our benevolent young teacher determined on getting through with it with the least possible effort. He saw that the youth carried a book under his arm, the externals of which, so uniform and discouraging as they appear in every legal library, could not well be questioned as belonging to some such venerable receptacle of barbarous phrase and rigid authority. The circumstance afforded him an occasion to begin a conversation, the opening of which, with all his coolness, was a subject of some awkwardness. “You seem a student like myself, Mr. Hinkley, and, if I mistake not from the appearance of your book, you are taking up the profession which I am about to lay down.” “This is a law-book, sir,” said Hinkley, in accents which were rather meek than cold; “it is Blackstone.” “Ah! I thought as much. Have you been long a student?” “I may scarcely consider myself one yet. I have read, sir, rather than studied.” “A good distinction, not often made. But, do you incline to law seriously?” “Yes, sir--I know no occupation to which I so much incline.” “The law is a very arduous profession. It requires a rare union of industry, talent, and knowledge of mankind to be a good lawyer.” “I should think so, sir.” “Few succeed where thousands fail. Young men are very apt to mistake inclination for ability; and to be a poor lawyer--” “Is to be worse than poor--is to be despicable!” replied Hinkley with a half-smile, as he interrupted a speech which might have been construed into a very contemptuous commentary on his own pretensions. It would seem that the young man had so understood it. He continued thus:-- “It may be so with me, sir. It is not improbable that I deceive myself, and confound inclination with ability.”