“Well! look about you now, and make up for your negligence,” said Steerforth. “Look to the right, and you’ll see a flat country, with a good deal of marsh in it; look to the left, and you’ll see the same. Look to the front, and you’ll find no difference; look to the rear, and there it is still.” I laughed, and replied that I saw no suitable profession in the whole prospect; which was perhaps to be attributed to its flatness.

“What says our aunt on the subject?” inquired Steerforth, glancing at the letter in my hand. “Does she suggest anything?”

“Why, yes,” said I. “She asks me, here, if I think I should like to be a proctor? What do you think of it?”

“Well, I don’t know,” replied Steerforth, coolly. “You may as well do that as anything else, I suppose?”

I could not help laughing again, at his balancing all callings and professions so equally; and I told him so.