It is an acknowledged fact that many a boy who has had the advantage of good training at home and at school, fails to avail himself of his opportunities and grows up careless in dress and language, and, while not absolutely vicious yet, looking leniently upon much that his parents and friends regard as reprehensible. Among the various causes that lead to such physical, mental and moral laxity, none is more potent than companionship with dirty, idle or immoral boys. Many a lad spends hours with comrades whom he despises, at first, then excuses, and finally associates with on terms of close intimacy. We all desire that our sons should keep good company, and we cannot and should not deprive them of outdoor companionship with boys of their own age. What we most desire is that they themselves should choose their comrades among honest, studious, manly boys, and avoid the society of the mean, idle and vicious; yet at the same time they should treat all with the courtesy due from one human being to another. We can scarcely understand the character of our boy's companions by his own description of them; since like the rest of humanity our boys regard their favorites with eyes that see only their good qualities, forgetting the coarse language, the vulgar jest, the cruel trick, the truant playing: "He is such a jolly fellow, plays such a good game." Although we may notice occasionally that our boy is coarse in speech or manifests an unusual spirit of rebellion at school regulations still we do not often associate these effects with "such a good fellow always ready for fun." But if we occasionally saw this "good fellow" then indeed the cause would not be far to seek. Our boy himself would feel ashamed of his acquaintance, if he saw him in the home circle; he would suddenly discover that his friend was not ashamed that his hands were dirty, that he "talked to mother" with his hat on. These boys of ours are apt to be very chivalrous about "mother," and then they learn not to care about companions of whom they are ashamed. I once heard a mother say to her son, "Harry, I wonder at you to be seen on the street with that Murray boy. Why he is dressed like a beggar." Now, I too, had seen Harry and the "Murray boy," and while the boy's clothes were old, they were whole and clean too, and I knew him to be an upright manly lad, more so indeed than Harry was ever likely to be with such training.