Well, it happens that the most
dangerous species of bad company is the species Idler. Look round over
the ranks of the hurtful creatures who spoil the State, corrupt and sap
the better nature of young men, and disgrace the name of our race. What
are they all but idlers pure and simple? Idleness, idleness, the
tap-root of misery, sin, villainy! Note the gambler at Monte Carlo,
watching with tense but impassive face as the red and the black take the
advantage by turns--he is an idler. The roaring bookmaker who
contaminates the air with his cries, and who grows wealthy on the spoil
of fools--he is an idler. The silly beings who crowd into the
betting-shops and lounge till morning in the hot air; the stout florid
person who passes from bar to bar in a commercial town; the greasy
scoundrel who congregates with his mates at street corners; the
unspeakable dogs who prowl at night in London and snatch their prey in
lonely thoroughfares; the "jolly" gangs of young men who play cards till
dawn in provincial club-rooms; even the slouching poacher who passes his
afternoons in humorous converse at the ale-house--they are all idlers,
and they all form bad company for anybody who comes within range of
their influences.
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