 Bob was
raised for ever above the rank of those who depend merely upon their muscles,
even as Clara was saved from the dismal destiny of the women who can do nothing
but sew.
    There was, on the whole, some reason why John Hewett should feel pride in
his eldest son. Like Sidney Kirkwood, Bob had early shown a faculty for
draughtsmanship; when at school, he made decidedly clever caricatures of such
persons as displeased him, and he drew such wonderful horses (on the race-course
or pulling cabs), such laughable donkeys in costers' carts, such perfect dogs,
that on several occasions some friend had purchased with a veritable shilling a
specimen of his work. »Put him to the die-sinking,« said an acquaintance of the
family, himself so employed; »he'll find a use for this kind of thing some day.«
Die-sinking is not the craft it once was; cheap methods, vulgarising here as
everywhere, have diminished the opportunities of capable men; but a fair living
was promised the lad if he stuck to his work, and at the age of nineteen he was
already earning his pound a week. Then he was clever in a good many other ways.
He had an ear for music, played (nothing else was within his reach) the
concertina, sang a lively song with uncommon melodiousness - a gift much
appreciated at the meetings of a certain Mutual Benefit Club, to which his
father had paid a weekly subscription, without fail, through all adversities. In
the regular departments of learning Bob had never shown any particular aptitude;
he wrote and read decently, but his speech, as you have had occasion for
observing, was not marked by refinement, and for books he had no liking. His
father, unfortunately, had spoilt him, just as he had spoilt Clara. Being of the
nobly independent sex, between fifteen and sixteen he practically freed himself
from parental control. The use he made of his liberty was not altogether
pleasing to John, but the time for restraint and training had hopelessly gone
by. The lad was selfish, that there was no denying; he grudged the money
demanded of him for his support; but in other matters he always showed himself
so easy-tempered, so disposed to a genial understanding, that the great fault
had to be blinked. Many failings might have been forgiven him in consideration
of the fact that he had never yet drunk too much, and indeed cared little for
liquor.
    Men of talent, as you are aware, not seldom exhibit low tastes in their
choice of companionship
