"There was nothing in your letter to surprise me at all; for I believe, if all our hearts were known, it would be found that we have every one been saved from doing wrong by what we call accident. The very best people say this of themselves, in their thanksgivings to God, and their confessions to one another. Though you were very unhappy on Saturday, I am not sorry that these things have happened, as I think you will be the safer and the wiser for them. You say you never till then felt the least afraid of telling. Now you know the danger; and that is a good thing. I think you will never again see that boy (whoever he may be), without being put upon your guard. Still, we are all sadly forgetful about our duty; and, if I were you, I would use every precaution against such a danger as you have escaped,--it makes me tremble to think how narrowly. If I were you, I would engage any friend I should become intimate with, the whole time of being at school, and perhaps afterwards, never to say a word about the accident,--or, at least, about how it happened. Another way is to tell me your mind, as you have now; for you may be sure that it is my wish that you should keep your secret, and that I shall always be glad to help you to do it. "But, my dear boy, I can do but little, in comparison with the best Friend you have. He can help you without waiting for your confidence,--even at the very instant when you are tempted. It is He who sends these very accidents (as we call them) by which you have now been saved. Have you thanked Him for saving you this time? And will you not trust in His help henceforward, instead of supposing yourself safe, as you now find you are not? If you use his strength, I feel that you will not fail. If you trust your own intentions alone, I shall never feel sure of you for a single hour, nor be certain that the companion you love best may not be your worst enemy, in breaking down your self-command. But, as you say you were very unhappy on Saturday, I have no doubt you did go for comfort to the right Friend, and that you were happier on Sunday. "Your sisters do not know that I am writing, as I consider your letter a secret from everybody but your father, who sends his love. You need not show this to Phil; but you can give him our love. Your sisters are counting the days to the holidays; and so are some older members of the family. As for Harry, he shouts for you from the yard every day, and seems to think that every shout will bring nearer the happy time when Phil and you will come home. "Your affectionate mother, "JANE PROCTOR."