Philip Debenham, at the advanced age of eighteen years, was, to use his own words, ‘a desperate man.’ The cause of his desperation was a piece of information he had just received in a letter, which lay open before him, and which was signed ‘Your affectionate uncle, Alfred Belassis.’ The piece of intelligence was this, that his affectionate uncle had secured for his young nephew a clerkship in a City merchant’s counting-house, and that he was to repair thither on the following day to commence his uncongenial labours. In consequence of this arrangement, the affectionate uncle went on to explain, it would be impossible for the lad to pay the visit to the West-country home to which he had so lon…
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