“And thereupon, you would recommend the profession of a street-sweeper to me!” said Rufus, beginning his walk with renewed energy.

“On the whole, I think I would not,” said Winthrop gravely.  “I am of opinion you can do something better.”

“I don’t like engineering!” said Rufus presently.

“What do you like?”

Rufus stopped and stood looking thoughtfully on the table where Winthrop’s papers lay.

“I consider that, to be as honourable, as useful, and I should think quite as pleasant a way of life, as the one I follow.”

“Do you? —­” said Rufus, looking at the long ’answer in Chancery.’

“I would as lieve go into it to-morrow, and make over my inkstand to you, if I were only fit for that and you for this.”

“Would you!” said Rufus, mentally conceding that his brother was ‘fit’ for anything.

“Just as lieve.”

Rufus’s brow lightened considerably, and he took up his walk again.

“What would you like better, Will?”

“I don’t know —­” said Rufus meditatively —­ “I believe I’ll take your advice.  There was an offer made to me a week or two ago —­ at least I was spoken to, in reference to a Southern piece of business —­”

“Not another agency?”

“No —­ no, engineering; —­ but I threw it off, not thinking then, or not knowing, that I would have anything more to do with the matter —­ I dare say it’s not too late yet.”

“But Will,” said his brother, “whatever choice you make now, it is your last choice.”

“How do you know it is my last choice?” said Rufus.

“Because it ought to be.”

Rufus took to silence and meditating again.

“Any profession rightly managed, will carry you to the goal of honour; but no two will, ridden alternately.”

“It seems so,” said Rufus bitterly.

And he walked and meditated, back and forth through the room; while Winthrop lost himself in his ‘answer.’  The silence lasted this time till Rufus came up to the table and extending his hand bid his brother ‘good night.’

“Are you going?” said Winthrop starting up.

“Yes —­ going; and going South, and going to be an engineer, and if possible to reach the goal of honour on the back of that calling, by some mysterious road which as yet I see not.”

“Stay here to-night, Will.”

“No, I can’t —­ I’ve got to see somebody.”

“All night?”

“Why, no,” said Rufus smiling.  “I suppose I could come back; more especially as I am going bona fide away.  By the way, Winthrop, do you know they say the yellow fever is here?”

“I know they say so.”

“What will you do?”

“Nothing.”

“I mean, of course, if the report is true.”

“So I mean.”

“But you will not stay here?”

“I think I will.”

“But it would be much better to go out of town.”