Father, you know how fond I have been of horseflesh. Do you remember--but of course you do--when I rode in the tournament three years ago, the youngest knight there, I captured the prize and crowned the queen of beauty? You seemed very proud of me then, and when I crowned mother the queen you complimented me on my good taste. Near the college grounds is a race course, with training stables attached. Owing to my fondness for thoroughbreds, during the winter I have become acquainted with one of the trainers. I told him I could ride, and he let me exercise one of his best racers. He says that I have an excellent seat and hands, and has asked me to go with him as an apprentice boy, after which I will become a first-class jockey--a big thing nowadays. I think I am exceedingly fortunate in having such an opportunity. You know, father, I never have been very studious. I would rather sit in the saddle all day than be perched on a stool in an office for a few hours. I have heard you yourself say that a man cannot succeed in his vocation unless he is in sympathy with it. Please don’t oppose me in my choice, for I know I shall make a great name for myself in the turf world, as you are known in that of the church. Hoping to hear from you soon and favorably, I am, Affectionately, your son, LIONEL. At first the little bishop had been highly indignant at his son. The idea of his presuming to couple his own name, as one in the direct line of apostolic succession, with that of a jockey! Surely his son was bereft of his senses. From wrath the father had changed to heartsickness. Rather in anything else would he have his son engaged than in such a pursuit. He had in mind his own brother, the pride of his mother’s heart, the idol of the family, who, through that same love of horseflesh, had fallen so low that he was either an outcast or the occupant of an unmarked grave in the Western country. His answer to the letter had been this: MY DEAR SON: I am sure that you have not reflected deeply on the course which you write me you are bent on pursuing. I cannot consider it as a serious resolve, but regard it rather as the result of sudden impulse on your part induced by the promptings of a man who would lead you away from all that is good and proper to something which is most sinful, degraded and pernicious. If, after seeing your father in his priestly vestments, you can array yourself in the trappings of Satan--the jockey’s colors--you are not the son I have fondly imagined. I will not pretend to coerce you in the matter. Yet I counsel you well to consider fully before you take the final step. Of course if you persist in your wild determination, in future all communication between us must cease. I can advise you no further.