 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 am to send him to school, I suppose, to learn to despise his mother’s authority and affection!’ said the lady, with rather a bitter smile.

‘Oh, no!—But if you would have a boy to despise his mother, let her keep him at home, and spend her life in petting him up, and slaving to indulge his follies and caprices.’

‘I perfectly agree with you, Mrs. Markham; but nothing can be further from my principles and practice than such criminal weakness as that.’

‘Well, but you will treat him like a girl—you’ll spoil his spirit, and make a mere Miss Nancy of him—you will, indeed, Mrs. Graham, whatever you may think.  But I’ll get Mr. Millward to talk to you about it:—he’ll tell you the consequences;—he’ll set it before you as plain as the day;—and tell you what you ought to do, and all about it;—and, I don’t doubt, he’ll be able to convince you in a minute.’

‘No occasion to trouble the vicar,’ said Mrs. Graham, glancing at me—I suppose I was smiling at my mother’s unbounded confidence in that worthy gentleman—‘Mr. Markham here thinks his powers of conviction at least equal to Mr. Millward’s.  If I hear not him, neither should I be convinced though one rose from the dead, he would tell you.  Well, Mr. Markham, you that maintain that a boy should not be shielded from evil, but sent out to battle against it, alone and unassisted—not taught to avoid the snares of life, but boldly to rush into them, or over them, as he may—to seek danger, rather than shun it, and feed his virtue by temptation,—would you—?’

‘I beg your pardon, Mrs. Graham—but you get on too fast.  I have not yet said that a boy should be
