not have disciplined. But indulged, caressed,
praised and admired by all around him, the selfishness inherent in our
nature, acquired a hot-bed growth from the sultry moral atmosphere which
he breathed.

The gentle, yet restraining influence which woman, in her purity and
excellence, ever exerts, was unfortunately denied him. Mr. Clinton was a
bachelor, and the careful, bustling housekeeper, who kept his servants
and house in order, was not likely to burden herself with the charge of
young Bryant's morals. All that Mr. Clinton supervised, was his progress
at school, which surpassed even his most sanguine expectations. He was
still the prodigy--the nonpareil--and as he had the most winning,
insinuating manners--he was still the favorite of teachers and pupils.
As he grew older, he was taken much into society, and young as he was,
inhaled, with the most intense delight, the incense of female adulation.
The smiles and caresses bestowed upon the boy-paragon by beautiful and
charming women, instead of fostering his affections, as they would have
done, had they been lavished upon him for his virtues rather than his
graces, gave precocious growth and vigor to his vanity, till, like the
cedar of Lebanon, it towered above all other passions. This vanity was
only visible to others in an earnest desire to please--it only made him
appear more amiable and gentle, but it was so strong, so vital, that it
could not, "but by annihilating, die."

Another fatal influence acted upon him. Mr. Clinton, like most rich
bachelors, was fond of having convivial suppers, where wine and mirth
abounded. To these young Bryant was often admitted, for his beauty and
talents were the pride and boast of his adopted father. Here he was
initiated into the secrets of the gaming-table, not by practice, (for he
was not allowed to play himself,) but by observation, a medium of
instruction sufficiently transparent to his acute and subtle mind. Here
he was accustomed to hear the name of God uttered either in irreverence
or blasphemy, and the cold sneer of infidelity withered the germs of
piety a mother's hand had planted in his bosom. Better, far better had
it been for him, never to have left his parent's humble but honest
dwelling.

Just as he was about to enter college, Mr. Clinton suddenly died of a
stroke of apoplexy, leaving the youth whom he had adopted, exposed to
the persecutions of his worldly and venal relatives. He had resolved to
make a will, bequ