ving fallen into the hands of
usurers, which proves him deficient in what alone ennobles the life of
any man--good sense, and the power of steady exertion."

Anton could only sigh his assent.

"To help such a man," inexorably continued the merchant, "is a futile
attempt, against which reason may well protest. We are not to despair of
any, but want of strength is the most hopeless case of all. Our power of
laboring for others being limited, it becomes our duty to inquire,
before we devote our time to the weak, whether we are not thus
diminishing our chances of helping better men."

Anton interrupted him. "Does he not deserve every allowance to be made
for him? He was brought up to exact much; he has not learned, as we
have, to make his way by his own labor."

The merchant laid his hand on the young man's shoulder. "The very
reason. Believe me, a large number of these landed gentry, who pay the
penalty of their old family memories, are beyond help. I am the last to
deny that many worthy and admirable men belong to this class. Indeed,
wherever remarkable talent or nobility of character shoots up among
them, no doubt their position offers peculiar scope for its development,
but for average men it is not a favorable one. He who considers it his
hereditary privilege to enjoy life, and who assumes a distinguished
position in virtue of his family, will very often fail to put forth his
whole strength in order to deserve that position. Accordingly, numbers
of our oldest families are declining, and their fall will be no loss to
the state. Their family associations make them haughty without any
right to be so--limit their perceptions and confuse their judgment."

"Even if all this be true," cried Anton, "it does not absolve us from
helping individuals of the class who have excited our sympathy."

"No," said the principal, "if it be excited. But it does not glow so
rapidly in advancing years as in youth. The baron has endeavored to
isolate his property from the current of circumstances, in order to
leave it forever to his family. Forever! You, as a merchant, know how to
estimate the attempt. True, every rational man must allow it to be
desirable that the culture of the same soil should be handed down from
father to son. We all prize what our forefathers have possessed before
us, and Sabine would unlock every room in this house with pride, because
her great-great-grandmother turned the same keys before her. It is
therefore natu