ot succeed according to our wishes?"

"Indeed," answered Mr Merton, "what you say is perfectly consistent with
the general benevolence of your character, and most consolatory to the
tenderness of a father. Yet I know too well the general weakness of
parents in respect to the faults of their children not to be upon my
guard against the delusions of my own mind. And when I consider the
abrupt transition of my son into everything that is most inconsistent
with goodness,--how lightly, how instantaneously he seems to have
forgotten everything he had learned with you,--I cannot help forming the
most painful and melancholy presages of the future."

"Alas, sir," answered Mr Barlow, "what is the general malady of human
nature but this very instability which now appears in your son? Do you
imagine that half the vices of men arise from real depravity of heart?
On the contrary, I am convinced that human nature is infinitely more
weak than wicked, and that the greater part of all bad conduct springs
rather from want of firmness than from any settled propensity to evil."

"Indeed," replied Mr Merton, "what you say is highly reasonable; nor
did I ever expect that a boy so long indulged and spoiled should be
exempt from failings. But what particularly hurts me is to see him
proceed to such disagreeable extremities without any adequate
temptation--extremities that, I fear, imply a defect of goodness and
generosity--virtues which I always thought he had possessed in a very
great degree."

"Neither," answered Mr Barlow, "am I at all convinced that your son is
deficient in either. But you are to consider the prevalence of example,
and the circle to which you have lately introduced him. If it is so
difficult even for persons of a more mature age and experience to resist
the impressions of those with whom they constantly associate, how can
you expect it from your son? To be armed against the prejudices of the
world, and to distinguish real merit from the splendid vices which pass
current in what is called society, is one of the most difficult of human
sciences. Nor do I know a single character, however excellent, that
would not candidly confess he has often made a wrong election, and paid
that homage to a brilliant outside which is only due to real merit."

"You comfort me very much," said Mr Merton, "but such ungovernable
passion, such violence and impetuosity----"

"Are indeed very formidable," replied Mr Barlow, "yet, when they are