other, though she wondered at my
choice and trembled to think how fragile a reed I should have to rely
on, was yet not sorry, I fancy, at the prospect of ridding her house of
poor blundering Nicolas in a kind and creditable way. I had reason to
think Nicolas better suited for this new service, and, by insisting, I
gained my point in this also.

I made haste about my equipment, and in a few days we set forth, myself
on a good young chestnut gelding, Nicolas on a strong black mule, which
carried also our baggage. Before I mounted, and while my mother, doing
her best to keep back her tears, was adding some last article of comfort
to the contents of my great leather bag, my father led me into the
window recess of the hall, and after speaking of the letters of
introduction with which he had provided me, said in his soldierly,
straightforward manner:

"I know you have gathered wisdom from books, and it will serve you well,
because it will make you take better heed of experience and see more
meaning in it. But then it will require the experience to give your
book-learned wisdom its full force. Often at first, in the face of
emergency, when the call is for action, your wisdom will fly from your
mind; but this will not be the case after you have seen life for
yourself. Experience will teach you the full and living meaning of much
that you now know but as written truth. It may teach you also some
things you have never read, nor even dreamt of. What you have learned by
study, and what you must learn by practice only, leave no use for any
good counsel I might give you now. Only one thing I can't help saying,
though you know it already and will doubtless see it proved again and
again. There are many deceivers in the world. Don't trust the outward
look of things or people. Be cautious; yet conceal your caution under
courtesy, for nothing is more boorish than open suspicion. And remember,
too, not to think bad, either, from appearances alone. You may do
injustice that way. Hold your opinion till the matter is tested. When
appearances are fair, be wary without showing it; when they are bad,
regard your safety but don't condemn. In other words, always mingle
caution with urbanity, even with kindness.--I need not speak of the name
you have to keep unsullied. Honour is a thing about which you require no
admonitions. You know that it consists as much in not giving affronts as
in not enduring them, though many who talk loudest about it see