The Ebb-Tide


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took at last a paltry degree. Almost at the same time, the London house  
was disastrously wound up; Mr Herrick must begin the world again as  
a clerk in a strange office, and Robert relinquish his ambitions and  
accept with gratitude a career that he detested and despised. He had  
no head for figures, no interest in affairs, detested the constraint of  
hours, and despised the aims and the success of merchants. To grow rich  
was none of his ambitions; rather to do well. A worse or a more bold  
young man would have refused the destiny; perhaps tried his future with  
his pen; perhaps enlisted. Robert, more prudent, possibly more timid,  
consented to embrace that way of life in which he could most readily  
assist his family. But he did so with a mind divided; fled the  
neighbourhood of former comrades; and chose, out of several positions  
placed at his disposal, a clerkship in New York.  
His career thenceforth was one of unbroken shame. He did not drink,  
he was exactly honest, he was never rude to his employers, yet was  
everywhere discharged. Bringing no interest to his duties, he brought  
no attention; his day was a tissue of things neglected and things done  
amiss; and from place to place and from town to town, he carried the  
character of one thoroughly incompetent. No man can bear the word  
applied to him without some flush of colour, as indeed there is  
none other that so emphatically slams in a man's face the door  
of self-respect. And to Herrick, who was conscious of talents and  
acquirements, who looked down upon those humble duties in which he was  
found wanting, the pain was the more exquisite. Early in his fall, he  
had ceased to be able to make remittances; shortly after, having nothing  
but failure to communicate, he ceased writing home; and about a year  
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