Nothing, perhaps, more affects a man of some sympathy with those who cultivate letters, than the pecuniary claims of one who can advance them with justice, and who advances them also with dignity. If the meanest, the most pitiable, the most heart-sickening object in the world, is the man of letters, sunk into the habitual beggar, practising the tricks, incurring the rebuke, glorying in the shame, of the mingled mendicant and swindler;--what, on the other hand, so touches, so subdues us, as the first, and only petition, of one whose intellect dignifies our whole kind; and who prefers it with a certain haughtiness in his very modesty; because, in asking a favour to himself, he may be only asking the power to enlighten the world? “Say no more, Sir,” said the Earl, affected deeply, and giving gracefully way to the feeling; “the affair is settled. Consider it utterly so. Name only the amount of the annuity you desire.” With some hesitation Aram named a sum so moderate, so trivial, that the Minister, accustomed as he was to the claims of younger sons and widowed dowagers--accustomed to the hungry cravings of petitioners without merit, who considered birth the only just title to the right of exactions from the public--was literally startled by the contrast. “More than this,” added Aram, “I do not require, and would decline to accept. We have some right to claim existence from the administrators of the common stock--none to claim affluence.” “Would to Heaven!” said the Earl, smiling, “that all claimants were like you: pension lists would not then call for indignation; and ministers would not blush to support the justice of the favours they conferred. But are you still firm in rejecting a more public career, with all its deserved emoluments and just honours? The offer I made you once, I renew with increased avidity now.” “‘Despiciam dites,’” answered Aram, “and, thanks to you, I may add, ‘despiciamque famem.’” CHAPTER VI. THE THAMES AT NIGHT.--A THOUGHT.--THE STUDENT RE-SEEKS THE RUFFIAN.--A HUMAN FEELING EVEN IN THE WORST SOIL. Clem. ‘Tis our last interview! Stat. Pray Heav’n it be. --Clemanthes. On leaving Lord ------‘s, Aram proceeded, with a lighter and more rapid step, towards a less courtly quarter of the metropolis.