“My notion is 'twould be spoiling him entirely to teach him a trade or a profession. Let his great faculties shoot up without being trimmed or trained; don't want to twist or twine or turn them at all, but just see whether he won't, out of his uncurbed nature, do better than all our discipline could effect. There's no better colt than the one that was never backed till he was a five-year-old.” “He ought to have a career,” said Sir Horace, thoughtfully. “Every man ought to have a calling, if only that he may be able to abandon it.” “Just as a sailor has a point of departure,” said Billy. “Precisely,” said Sir Horace, pleased at being so well appreciated. “You are aware, Doctor,” resumed he, after a pause, “that the lad will have little or no private fortune. There are family circumstances that I cannot enter into, nor would your own delicacy require it, that will leave him almost dependent on his own efforts. Now, as time is rolling over, we should bethink us what direction it were wisest to give his talents; for he has talents.” “He has genius and talents both,” said Billy; “he has the raw material, and the workshop to manufacture it.” “I am rejoiced to hear such an account from one so well able to pronounce,” said Sir Horace, blandly; and Billy bowed, and blushed with a sense of happiness that none but humble men, so praised, could ever feel. “I should like much to hear what you would advise for him,” said Upton. “He's so full of promise,” said Billy, “that whatever he takes to he 'll be sure to fancy he 'd be better at something else. See, now,--it isn 't a bull I 'm sayin', but I 'll make a blunder of it if I try to explain.” “Go on; I think I apprehend you.” “By coorse you do. Well, it's that same feelin' makes me cautious of sayin' what he ought to do. For, after all, a variety of capacity implies discursiveness, and discursiveness is the mother of failure.” “You speak like an oracle, Doctor.” “If I do, it's because the priest is beside me,” said Billy, howmg. “My notion is this: I'd let him cultivate his fine gifts for a year or two in any way he liked,--in work or idleness; for they 'll grow in the fallow as well as in the tilled land. I 'd let him be whatever he liked,--striving always, as he's sure to be striving, after something higher, and greater, and better than he'll ever reach; and then, when he has felt both his strength and his weakness, I 'd try and attach him to some great man in public life; set a grand ambition before him, and say, 'Go on.'” “He's scarcely the stuff for public life,” muttered Sir Horace. “He is,” said Billy, boldly. “He 'd be easily abashed,--easily deterred by failure.” “Sorra bit. Success might cloy, but failure would never damp him.” “I can't fancy him a speaker.” “Rouse him by a strong theme and a flat contradiction, and you 'll see what he can do.” “And then his lounging, idle habits--” “He'll do more in two hours than any one else in two days.”