“And you think you are fit to undertake such a place as mine?” “I think I am, and I should try to give satisfaction; for I am very anxious indeed to earn my own living.” “And who is to give you a character?” “Mr. Grindlay will; he has known me all my life.” During the conversation of which the above is an abridgement, I found that my feelings were veering round to a more favorable quarter for the candidate. Young as he was, I thought I could discern that he had suffered, and that he was anxious to diminish, or repair, his ill fortunes by industry and good conduct. There was a moment, too, in which I fancied I saw the clew to his sorrows. It was when I said, “You are not married, I presume?” “No,” said he. “Because,” I added, “my house is not large, and visitors below are inconvenient.” “I have nobody in the world belonging to me but one sister. And the only friend I have is Mr. Grindlay,” he replied, with some eagerness, as if to put a period to further inquiries in that direction, while he visibly changed color. Feeling sure there was some painful family history behind, I said no more, but that I would see Mr. Grindlay, if he would call on the following day. “By-the-by,” I rejoined, as the young man was leaving, the room, “we said nothing about wages; what do you expect?” “Whatever you are accustomed to give,” he answered. “Very well; I’ll speak to Mr. Grindlay about it.” It was the situation he was anxious about, clearly; not wages. On the following morning Mr. Grindlay came. “You are well acquainted with this young man?” I said. “I have known him since he was that high,” he answered, placing his hand on the table; “and you can’t have a better lad; that I’ll engage.” “He is honest and sober?” “You may trust him with untold gold; and as for wine or spirits, such a thing never passes his lips.” “But he has been under your guidance, Mr. Grindlay,” I answered; “he is young; do you think he will be able to stand alone?” “I’ve no fear of him; none whatever,” he replied. “To say the truth, he had an awful lesson before his eyes in regard to excessive drinking. Such a lesson as he’ll never forget.” “Indeed!” said I; “his father?” Mr. Grindlay shook his head. I made no further inquiry then; but agreed to engage George Hammond. At first, he was so anxious to please, and so nervous lest he should not please, that he tumbled up-stairs in his hurry to answer the bell, and very nearly broke my best decanters. His hand so shook with agitation when I had friends to dinner, lest he should be found deficient, that I momentarily expected to see him drop the plates and glasses on the floor. However, he got through this ordeal without any serious accident; and by degrees I discovered that I had found a treasure of fidelity and good service. He lived with me for six years, and then, to my regret, we parted; my only consolation being that our separation was consequent on a plan formed for his advantage.