ar."

Eric blushed. He hadn't meant the word to slip out in Russell's
hearing, though similar and worse expressions were common enough in his
talk with other boys. But he didn't like to be reproved, even by
Russell, and in the ready spirit of self-defence, he answered--

"Pooh, Edwin, you don't call that swearing, do you? You're so strict,
so religious, you know. I love you for it, but then, there are none
like you. Nobody thinks anything of swearing here,--even of _real_
swearing, you know."

Russell was silent.

"Besides, what can be the harm of it? it means nothing. I was thinking
the other night, and I made out that you and Owen are the only two
fellows here who don't swear."

Russell still said nothing.

"And, after all, I didn't swear; I only called that fellow a surly
devil."

"Oh, hush! Eric, hush!" said Russell sadly. "You wouldn't have said so
half a year ago."

Eric knew what he meant. The image of his father and mother rose before
him, as they sate far away in their lonely Indian home, thinking of him,
praying for him, centring all their hopes in him. In him!--and he knew
how many things he was daily doing and saying, which would cut them to
the heart. He knew that all his moral consciousness was fast vanishing,
and leaving him a bad and reckless boy.

In a moment all this passed through his mind. He remembered how shocked
he had been at swearing at first; and even when it became too familiar
to shock him, how he determined never to fall into the habit himself.
Then he remembered how gradually it had become quite a graceful sound in
his ears--a sound of entire freedom and independence of moral restraint;
an open casting off, as it were, of all authority, so that he had begun
to admire it, particularly in Duncan, and, above all, in his new hero,
Upton; and he recollected how, at last, an oath had one day slipped out
suddenly in his own words, and how strange it sounded to him, and how
Upton smiled to hear it, though his own conscience had reproached him
bitterly; but now that he had done it once, it became less dreadful, and
gradually grew common enough, till even conscience hardly reminded him
that he was doing wrong.

He thought of all this, and hung his head. Pride struggled with him for
a moment, but at length he answered, "Oh, Edwin, you're quite right, and
I'm all in the wrong as usual. But I shall never be like you," he added
in a low sad tone.

"Dear Eric, don't think that