his own adventures, and those of his own
particular friends. I have, fortunately, seldom met a man who could
tell a falsehood with such a bold, unblushing front. I had a great
horror of a falsehood, notwithstanding my numerous faults; I despised it
as a mean, cowardly way of getting out of a difficulty, or of gaining
some supposed advantage. I did not believe that a person older than
myself could possibly be guilty of telling one. I fancied that only
very little miserable children, or mean contemptible people, told
stories; and I therefore could not fancy that such a person as Doolan
would even condescend to say what was not true. I honestly say that I
always adhered to the truth myself; and to this circumstance I ascribe
my not having irretrievably sunk into the grade of society to which my
too frequent companions belonged. I have mentioned Doolan, whose faults
I would rather have forgotten; but I naturally wish to excuse myself as
much as I can, and to account for the influence he had gained over me--
an influence he never would have obtained had I known him to be what I
now know he was.

It would indeed be happy for the young if they always could learn the
true characters of their companions; and it is in this point that the
advice of their older friends is so valuable. They, by their experience
of others, are generally able to judge pretty correctly of persons, and
often discern very dangerous qualities which young people cannot
perceive. Therefore I say to my young friends, Avoid the acquaintance
of those against whom your relations, or those who take an interest in
your welfare, warn you, although you may think them, in your blindness,
very fine fellows, or even perfect heroes. I wish that I, Peter--your
friend, if you will so let me call myself--had thus followed the
oft-repeated warnings of my kind father, and kept clear of Pat Doolan.

Doolan's loud cheer, as we met, raised my spirits still more, and away
we trudged gaily enough towards the scene of our intended sport. He
laughed and talked incessantly without giving me a moment for thought,
so that when we reached the ground I was ready for anything. A hare
crossed my path. It belonged, I knew, to Lord Fetherston. I fired,
knocked it over, and bagged it; and while Doolan was applauding me, a
pheasant was put up, and in like manner transferred to my game-bag.
Never before had we enjoyed such capital sport, till, weary with our
exercise, we sat dow