Prayer-meeting bells were ringing, and old men and old women came out of the dark shadow of the trees, into the light that burned in front of a church--hearts that with age were slow and heavy, praying for the blessing of an Infinite Mystery. I entered the church and knelt down to pray, for I am not so advanced a thinker as the man who questions the existence of God; but I must admit that my thoughts were far away from the mumblings that I heard about me, far, indeed, from the mutterings of my own lips; and so I went out and sniffed the prayer of nature, the smell of rain that came from far off down the dusty road. Early the next morning I went to Conkwright's office, to tell him that for a time I preferred to study in the country. The old man was walking up and down the room, with his hands behind him. "Did you find that woman?" he asked. "Yes, and I let no one see me." "Good. You gave her the twenty dollars, and--is that all you gave her?" "Why, that was all you told me to give her." "Yes, I know, but didn't you give her some of your own money? Speak out now. No shilly-shallying with me." "Well, she was so wretched that I gave her five dollars of my own money." "You did, eh? The money you borrowed from me, you mean?" "No, money that old Perdue thinks I earned. He insisted upon my taking twenty-five dollars." "It's all right, my boy. Yes, it's all right, but you'll have to be more careful. It is noble to give, but it is not wise to look for an opportunity. It is better to give to the young than to the old, for the good we do the youth grows with him into a hallowed memory--stimulates him to help others--while the memory of the aged is fitful. Whenever you see a boy trying to amount to something, help him, for that is a direct good, done to mankind. Now to business. Have you read Blackstone?" "Yes, but not thoroughly. I have never owned his book." "There he is on my desk. I keep him near me. The lawyer who outgrows that book--well, I may be an old fogy on the subject, so I'll say nothing more except to commend the treatise to a lawyer as I would the multiplication table to a student of mathematics. And now let me say that when you have been with me one year we will begin to talk about other matters, the question of money, for instance. Don't be extravagant--don't give money because you don't know what else to do with it--and I will see that you shall not want for anything. Oh, yes, I know you are thinking of getting married, but it won't cost much to keep your wife. We'll fix all that, and if I don't make a lawyer out of you I am much fooled. You are in love and are mighty sappy just at present, but you'll come round all right; yes, sir, all right after a while." "I think, Judge, that I can study much better out at the old house, and if you have nothing for me to do I should like to spend several days at a time out there."