“Well,” said Mr. Gore, “you must decide for yourself; but come, sit down, and let us talk it over. The office is worth fifteen hundred a year, you say; well, it never will be worth any more. Ten to one if they find out it is so much the fees will be reduced. You are appointed now by friends; others may fill their places who are of different opinions, and who have friends of their own to provide for. You will lose your place; or, supposing you to retain it, what are you but a clerk for life? And your prospects as a lawyer are good enough to encourage you to go on. Go on, and finish your studies; you are poor enough, but there are greater evils than poverty; live on no man’s favor; what bread you do eat let it be the bread of independence; pursue your profession, make yourself useful to your friends, and a little formidable to your enemies, and you have nothing to fear.” Daniel hardly knew what to think or to say. It was presenting the subject from a very different point of view. He had looked forward to this office as a thing greatly to be desired. It had been the height of his ambition, and now his legal instructor, a man whose opinion he greatly valued, told him he must give it up. He was indeed flattered and encouraged by the eminent lawyer’s estimate of his talents and prospects, an estimate far beyond any he had formed for himself, for Daniel, as I have already had occasion to say, was modest, and wholly ignorant of the extent of his powers. It was not that he expected to enjoy a clerkship. He knew he should not, but he had been struggling so long with poverty that the prospect of a competency was most alluring. Besides he was a good son and a good brother. He knew how much his father’s mind would be relieved, how he could help his favorite brother, and it seemed very hard to resign such a piece of fortune. “Go home and think it over,” said Mr. Gore, “and come back in the morning, and we will have another talk.” Daniel followed his advice, but passed a sleepless night. CHAPTER XVII. DANIEL REFUSES A CLERKSHIP. Those of my readers who have read “The Canal Boy” will remember that before Gen. Garfield graduated from college he too was met by a similar temptation, in the shape of an offer which, if accepted, would have materially changed his course of life, and given him a comfortable obscurity in place of national renown. He was offered a school in Troy, N. Y., with a salary of one hundred and twenty-five dollars per month, while up to that time he had never earned but eighteen dollars per month and board. He declined after a hard struggle, for he too had been reared in poverty and still suffered from it. And now a similar temptation had come to Daniel Webster.