As a boy, the example of his elders teaches him to look upon frivolous distinction as a great end and aim of life, whilst that of his comrades leads him to neglect all study as dry, to despise all application as "slow." At home he hears some good-looking, grown-up cousin, or agreeable military uncle, admired and commented on for being "such a capital shot," "such a good cricket-player," "such an undeniable rider to hounds," what wonder the boy grows up thinking that these accomplishments alone are the very essentials of a gentleman? At school, if he makes an effort at distinction in school-hours, he is stigmatized by his comrades as a "sap," and derided for his pursuit of the very object it is natural to suppose he has been sent there to attain. What wonder he hugs idleness as his bosom-friend, and loses all his powers of application in their disuse. Then come the realities of manhood, for which he is so ill prepared. In the absence of all _useful_ knowledge and practical pursuits, _amusement_ becomes the business of life. Human nature cannot be idle, and if not doing good, is pretty sure to be doing harm. Pleasure, excitement, and fashionable dissipation must be purchased, and paid for pretty dearly, in hard coin of the realm. The younger son, with his ten thousand pounds, must soar in the same flight, must "go as fast" as his elder brother with ten thousand a year. How is it to be done? Why, _of course_, he must _make_ money, if he can, by betting and play. So it goes on smoothly enough for a time. The Arch-croupier below, they say, arranges these matters for beginners; but the luck turns at last. The capital is eaten into; the Jews are called in; and the young gentleman is ruined. Frank, I think, at this time was in a fair way of arriving pretty rapidly at the customary catastrophe. He had gone through the whole educational process I have described above, had been regularly and systematically "spoilt," was a habitual gambler, and a confirmed "dandy." The ladies all liked him much, and I confess I don't wonder at it. Always good-humoured, never sentimental (I hate a sentimental man), invariably well dressed, with a very good opinion of his own attractions, Frank could make himself agreeable in all societies. He had never been troubled with shyness as a boy, and in his manhood was as "cool a hand" as one would meet with often, even in London. Then he had plenty of courage, which made the men respect him; and, above all, was very good-looking--an advantage which, doubtless, has a certain weight even with _our_ far-sighted and reflective sex.