go alone.'

'I will lead him by the hand, Mr. Markham, till he has strength to go
alone; and I will clear as many stones from his path as I can, and teach
him to avoid the rest--or walk firmly over them, as you say;--for when I
have done my utmost, in the way of clearance, there will still be plenty
left to exercise all the agility, steadiness, and circumspection he will
ever have.--It is all very well to talk about noble resistance, and
trials of virtue; but for fifty--or five hundred men that have yielded to
temptation, show me one that has had virtue to resist. And why should I
take it for granted that my son will be one in a thousand?--and not
rather prepare for the worst, and suppose he will be like his--like the
rest of mankind, unless I take care to prevent it?'

'You are very complimentary to us all,' I observed.

'I know nothing about you--I speak of those I do know--and when I see the
whole race of mankind (with a few rare exceptions) stumbling and
blundering along the path of life, sinking into every pitfall, and
breaking their shins over every impediment that lies in their way, shall
I not use all the means in my power to insure for him a smoother and a
safer passage?'

'Yes, but the surest means will be to endeavour to fortify him against
temptation, not to remove it out of his way.'

'I will do both, Mr. Markham. God knows he will have temptations enough
to assail him, both from within and without, when I have done all I can
to render vice as uninviting to him, as it is abominable in its own
nature--I myself have had, indeed, but few incentives to what the world
calls vice, but yet I have experienced temptations and trials of another
kind, that have required, on many occasions, more watchfulness and
firmness to resist than I have hitherto been able to muster against them.
And this, I believe, is what most others would acknowledge who are
accustomed to reflection, and wishful to strive against their natural
corruptions.'

'Yes,' said my mother, but half apprehending her drift; 'but you would
not judge of a boy by yourself--and, my dear Mrs. Graham, let me warn you
in good time against the error--the fatal error, I may call it--of taking
that boy's education upon yourself. Because you are clever in some
things and well informed, you may fancy yourself equal to the task; but
indeed you are not; and if you persist in the attempt, believe me you
will bitterly repent it when the mischief is done.'

'I