How to destroy this fault in their son gave Mr and Mrs Ross many hours of thought. If children did but consider how much pain and trouble their thoughtless and wilful conduct gave to their parents, they would surely think twice before they performed any action they knew would grieve them. "I think, my dear," said Mr Ross one day to his wife, "I think the only way we can cure Leslie of his fault will be by sending him to school." "But do you not think," replied Mrs Ross, "that associating with other boys will be more likely to foster it?" "No, I think not, for among a number of boys there must be many who would view the consequences likely to arise from indulging in a senseless piece of mischief; these would control the more thoughtless and reckless of their number. Besides, in a good school, and subject to wholesome school rules and discipline, there would be less time and fewer opportunities for gratifying any particular propensity." "I wish," said Mrs Ross, with a sigh, "some other plan could be adopted. I do not like the idea of his going away from home and home influences, and being subject to others of which we know nothing." "I can think of no other," said Mr Ross; "school life will do Leslie a world of good; he is too much alone now, and mixes so little with companions of his own age, that he entertains too great an idea of his own powers and capacities; school life will teach him to moderate this. I think he will have to go, my dear." At that moment Leslie burst into the room, full of life and spirits, shouting, "Good-bye, ma, good-bye papa, I'm off for a row with old Crusoe." "Well, be careful, Leslie; and mind, no larks," said Mr Ross, holding up a finger. "Careful, papa! Oh, you can't think how careful I am; and as for rowing, why, I shall beat Crusoe soon," replied Leslie, as, with a merry laugh, he left the room. "How bright," said Mrs Ross; "no care sets on his heart." "No, and his one great fault arises from thoughtlessness; how true are the poet's words:-- 'Evil is wrought by want of thought As well as want of heart.'" Meanwhile Leslie had made his way to the beach, where he was saluted by a weather-beaten old sailor, who, in his old age, had turned boatman; this was Crusoe, a name Leslie had bestowed upon him because he had visited so many parts of the globe. "Good morning, sir; are you going to have a row this morning, Master Leslie?" "Yes, Crusoe, I came on purpose--a good long row, for I feel as strong as a lion," replied Leslie, taking off his jacket and turning up his shirt sleeves. "Shall it be the 'Lively Nancy,' or 'My Mary?'" "Oh, the 'Lively Nancy,' she's as light as a feather."