Were we writing an essay on juvenile depravity, one of the strongest arguments used would be that of parents losing sight of the vacant hours of their children. Associations formed at these times have not unfrequently laid the foundation of their ruin. This will be illustrated as we proceed. Among the lads who visited Barrett was Henry W. Fletcher, a bright, intelligent boy of thirteen years: he was the son of the village postmaster. Barrett seemed to have a more than ordinary fondness for this boy,—associated and talked with him wherever and whenever he met him. It was for the purpose of cementing this friendship still closer, and strengthening the influence he was gradually obtaining over him, that the oyster-suppers and card-playing were inaugurated. No one would have taken such pains with young Fletcher, mastering his timidity, establishing a friendship, and ministering to his youthful pleasures, if he had not something in view,—some purpose, some object. Those who have read Oliver Twist cannot have forgotten the character of “Old Fagin,” and how he gathered around him a number of boys and taught them the art and mystery of stealing. Barrett, no doubt, had read Oliver Twist, and, as we shall see, imitated his plan and followed his example in preparing boys for the gallows. On the occasion of one of the oyster-parties, Barrett suggested to young Fletcher that, as our soldiers were sending money home, he might, if he were sharp, get some of it. Fletcher started: he could not at first comprehend how, _honestly_, he could hold the soldiers’ money. “Easy enough,” remarked Barrett; “by taking the letters out of the post-office.” An associate of Barrett’s, and perhaps the only one he had, was present. For reasons not necessary to give here, we conceal his name. This man urged the boy also to commit this serious offence of robbing the post-office, but stated, as if he possessed the power, “that he would see him out of the scrape if he was detected.” The imagination of the boy was excited by the programme laid out by these villains,—how they would take him with them to Buffalo, then across the lake into Canada, “where,” as Barrett remarked, “nobody could find them.” Then they would proceed to the Western States, seek a wild, retired place in the forest, build a hut, and pass their time in hunting, fishing, and other wild-wood sports. To a lad naturally sprightly, romantic, and possessing more than ordinary intelligence, such a prospect was quite fascinating. All arch-villains, whenever they want tools to work with, invariably excite the imagination, which oversteps the bounds of discretion, and carries the victim on to his ruin. When Aaron Burr planned his great scheme of revolutionizing the South, and, no doubt, with an eye to the subjugation of the North, he selected out a wild enthusiast, one Herman Blennerhassett, for a sort of leader. Blennerhassett was an adventurer, romantic and chivalric: he