that my leaning towards journalism ought not to be repressed, had offered to have me taught shorthand by the reporter of the _Express_. Finally he had left with my father half a sovereign, which he desired me to accept in payment of my various contributions to the paper. So, whilst I was still a mere boy, not having as yet entered on my sixteenth year, I found myself enrolled among the more or less irregular camp-followers of journalism. It was indeed a rapturous moment when I heard this news. If I had been allowed, I would forthwith have thrown up my place at the W.B. Lead office and taken service--even the humblest--on the Press. But on this point my father was firm. I must stick to my proper work for the present, though there could be no harm in my devoting my evenings to such study and practice as might fit me for journalism hereafter. Not that he or my mother desired to see me become a journalist. The Press--at all events in provincial towns--in those days was the reverse of respectable in the eyes of the world; and truly there was some reason for the low esteem in which it was held. The ordinary reporter on a country paper was generally illiterate, was too often intemperate, and was invariably ill-paid. Again and again did my mother seek to check my eager yearning for a life on the Press with the repetition of dismal stories dinned into her ears by sympathising friends, who deplored the fact that her son should dream of leaving so secure and respectable a position as a clerkship in the W.B. Lead Office for the poor rewards and dubious respectability of a newspaper career. There was an old friend of my father's--Innes by name--who took it upon himself to remonstrate with me. After exhorting me fervently for some time, he sought to illustrate the dangers of the course on which I was anxious to embark by a personal experience. "Thomas," he said solemnly (and oh, how I hated to be called Thomas!), "I knew a laddie called Forster. His father was a most respectable, decent man, that kept a butcher's shop at the top o' the Side--a first-rate business; and this laddie--his name was John--got just such notions into his head as ye have; he was always reading and writing, and nothing would suit him but to go to college instead of sticking to the shop. And at last he went away to London, and his poor father died, and the business went all to pieces, and I've never heard tell of that laddie from the day he went to London until now. He's died of starvation, most likely, by this time."