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I Corroborate Mr. Dick, and Choose a Profession

           Whataboutthatletteryouwerespeakingofatbreakfast?’

           ‘Oh!’saidI,takingitoutofmypocket.‘It’sfrommyaunt.’

           ‘Andwhatdoesshesay,requiringconsideration?’

           ‘Why,sheremindsme,Steerforth,’saidI,‘thatIcameoutonthisexpeditiontolookaboutme,andtothinkalittle.’

           ‘Which,ofcourse,youhavedone?’

           ‘IndeedIcan’tsayIhave,particularly.Totellyouthetruth,IamafraidIhaveforgottenit.’

           ‘Well!lookaboutyounow,andmakeupforyournegligence,’saidSteerforth.‘Looktotheright,andyou’llseeaflatcountry,withagooddealofmarshinit;looktotheleft,andyou’llseethesame.Looktothefront,andyou’llfindnodifference;looktotherear,andthereitisstill.’Ilaughed,andrepliedthatIsawnosuitableprofessioninthewholeprospect;whichwasperhapstobeattributedtoitsflatness.

           ‘Whatsaysourauntonthesubject?’inquiredSteerforth,glancingattheletterinmyhand.‘Doesshesuggestanything?’

           ‘Why,yes,’saidI.‘Sheasksme,here,ifIthinkIshouldliketobeaproctor?Whatdoyouthinkofit?’

           ‘Well,Idon’tknow,’repliedSteerforth,coolly.‘Youmayaswelldothatasanythingelse,Isuppose?’

           Icouldnothelplaughingagain,athisbalancingallcallingsandprofessionssoequally;andItoldhimso.

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