_Mother._ My son, I fear you would indeed, if we could cruelly permit you to enter on life devoid of some of its best resources against the temptations that beset the idle. A young man, in the situation which you have just described, would be almost certain to seek occupation and excitement from drinking and cards. The strongest religious principles might save him, but the conflict would be terrible,--the result doubtful; and I cannot think of the danger without tears. _Charles._ Dear mother, you do not think I should ever be a wicked man, do you? _Mother._ I cannot tell. I cannot bear to think of it. We will talk of another part of this subject; for it is very necessary that I should. All this while, you have said nothing of the way in which you are to be supported in the easy life you propose. _Charles._ Supported? what am I to live on? On my fortune. _Mother._ And where is it? _Charles._ Ah, I have none now; but then there is father so rich, and only Ellen and I. Of course, he won’t leave his money to anybody else, will he? _Mother._ How can you be sure that he will not leave it to an hospital? You know he has given much to public charities. _Charles._ Ah, mother, you know he will not neglect _us_! _Mother._ Stranger things have happened; but, however, I do not think it at all likely that you will lose your fortune in that way. But why should you so entirely forget the passage of scripture--“Riches take to themselves wings?” Ought you not to be prepared with some way of supporting yourself, supposing that text should be verified in your case? _Charles._ But, somehow or other, I don’t believe it will be. _Mother._ That is a blind, boyish belief to rest upon. How do you know that your father is now rich? _Charles._ Why, all the boys in school say he is one of the richest men in the city. And then, mother, have we not always lived like rich people? _Mother._ That may be a sign that we always have been rich, but not that we shall be--not that we are, Charles! _Charles._ I don’t understand you, mother. _Mother._ I must make you comprehend me, my dear boy. Your father told me I must talk with you to-day, and I intended to wait till you returned, at night; but this is a better opportunity. Have you not seen that your father has been more taken up with his business than usual, for some weeks past? Have you not observed that he was very thoughtful? _Charles._ Yes, mother; at least, I did after Ellen mentioned it to me, for she observes more than I do. What is the matter? _Mother._ Your father will fail to-morrow, Charles. _Charles._ Fail! and what is failing, mother? I hear people talk about failing, and say “such a man has failed,” and I know it is something bad; but what is it? _Mother._ It is when a man owes more money than he can pay, and gives up all his property to be divided among his creditors. _Charles._ And is that what has happened to father? And will he give up everything he has in the world? That is very bad.