“Three questions I put to you in recent letters. These, supposing me simply a common acquaintance, and in a position to ask the questions, should have been promptly answered, and it is but reasonable to claim what is due to any Mr. Jones or Mr. Jobson. Without self-command enough to be punctual and methodical, you cannot realize your plans as to more serious things than I now write about; nor, indeed, can you do anything _effective_ in study without it. Read as much as you will, it will be like filling the sieve of the Danaids. But to drop fine metaphors and come to plain English, in heaven’s name begin to be wide awake to the common exigencies and observances of life. You can see distant and abstracted things well enough; but in such common things as are understood and practised by every boy behind a counter who is worth his salt, you are in the state of a blind puppy in the straw. I do not speak with the least anger on the subject; but, as a man of common worldly sense, I cannot too pointedly and forcibly urge on you, that without a complete alteration in this respect, everything of real importance which you attempt in the business of life will be an absolute failure. You swear by Scott. Recollect Athelstan the Unready. He gives ample proof of both high valour and sound sense, and, when roused from his ruminative state, is even forcibly eloquent (where he floors the insolence of De Bracy). Yet he is the butt of the whole piece, because he is always ten minutes after time in thought and action; albeit he is by nature a finer character than Cedric, and twice as big and well-born. But everyone minds Cedric because he knows his own will and purpose, and carries it out promptly, with the power of seeing such things as are directly before his nose.” George’s reply appears to have contained some statement as to his intentions in the matter of reading, as well as satisfactory answers to the neglected questions. Your grandfather, however, returns to the charge again:—