plishments, can never be
deserving of esteem, confidence, or regard. What esteem or respect could
I ever entertain of a person's sense or learning, who made no better use
of it than to practise wickedness with more dexterity and grace than he
otherwise would be enabled to do? Or, what confidence could I ever
place in the person who, I knew, only wanted a convenient opportunity
to defraud, trick, and deceive me? Or, what regard and love could I
possibly entertain for such a one, who, unless I kept a constant watch
over, as I must over a wild beast, would, like a wild beast, be sure
to do me some injury? Would it be possible, I say, to love such a
character, whatever shining abilities or depth of learning he might
possess? Ask your own hearts, my dears, whether you think you could?'

To this they all answered at once, 'No, that I could not,' and 'I am
sure I could not.' 'Well, then,' resumed the father, 'only think how
odious that conduct must be, which robs us of the esteem, confidence,
and love of our fellow-creatures; and that too, notwithstanding we may
at the same time be very clever, and have a great deal of sense and
learning. But, for my part, I confess I know not the least advantage of
our understanding or our learning, unless we make a proper use of them.
Knowing a great deal, and having read a great many books, will be of
no service to us, unless we are careful to make a proper use of that
knowledge, and to improve by what we read, otherwise the time we so
bestow is but lost, and we might as well spend the whole of our lives in
idleness.

'Always remember, therefore, my loves, that the whole end of our taking
the trouble to instruct you, or putting ourselves to the expense of
sending you to school, or your attending to what is taught you, is,
that you may grow better men and women than you otherwise would be; and
unless, therefore, you do improve, we might as well spare ourselves the
pains and expense, and you need not take the trouble of learning; since,
if you will act wickedly, all our labour is but thrown away to no manner
of purpose.

'Mr. and Mrs. Sharply, how I pity them! What sorrow must they endure,
to behold their son acting in the manner you have described; for nothing
can give so much concern to a fond parent's heart, as to see their
children, for whom they have taken so much pains, turn out naughty;
and to deceive and cheat! What can be worse than that? I hope, my dear
children, you will never,