I do not believe that amongst all the many books which have been written to corrupt the heart of man—and they are ten times in number, I fear, those which have been written to improve it—there is one to be found so dangerous to youth as the works of Rousseau. The vivid richness of his imagination, the strong enthusiasms of the man, and the indefinite insinuation of pernicious doctrines can be only safely encountered by reason in its full vigor, aided by experience. I happily escaped the contamination, but it was by no powers of my own. Father Bonneville found Rousseau lying on my table, and when I returned from one of my long rambles he sat down to discuss with me both the character of the man, and the tendency of his writings. He showed no heat, no vehement disapprobation of the subject of my study; but he calmly and quietly, and with a clearness and force of mind I have seldom seen equaled, examined the doctrines, dissected the arguments, tore away the glittering veils with which vice, and selfishness, and vanity are concealed, and left with too strong a feeling of disgust for the unprincipled author, for my admiration of his style and powers of imagination ever to seduce me again. I felt ashamed of what I had done, and when the good Father closed the book which he had been commenting upon, I rose, exclaiming, “I will never read any more of his works again.” “Not so, Louis,” replied the good Father. “Do not read his works at present. Pause till you are thirty. Your reason may be active, and I believe it is; but the mind, like the body, only acquires its full vigor after a long period of regular exercise and training. You will soon have to mingle largely with the world, to share in its struggles, to taste its sorrows, and to encounter its disappointments. You will see much of man and his actions. Mark them well. Trace them back to their causes. Follow them out to their consequences. It is a study never begun too soon, and about five or six-and-twenty, men who wish to found virtue upon reason, apply the lessons they have thus learned to their own hearts. If you do this, wisely and systematically, neither the works of Rousseau, nor of any other man will do you any harm. But here is another thing I wish to say to you, Louis. The income that is allowed you is intended to give you some means of practically learning to regulate your expenditure—to teach you, in fact, the value of money. This is a branch of study as well as every thing else, and each young man has to master it. At first, when he possesses money, his natural desire is to spend it upon something that he fancies will give him pleasure; it matters not what; and when he has wasted numerous small sums upon trifles which afford him no real satisfaction, he finds that there is some object far more desirable, which he has not left himself the means of obtaining. Then comes regret, and it is very salutary; for when the experiment has