Is it not an old story? The loss of
"quarters," half-days, and days goes on; then Saint Monday comes to be
observed; then the spoiled young man and his merry crew begin to draw
very short wages on Saturdays; then the foreman begins to look askance
as the blinking uneasy laggard enters; and last comes the fatal quiet
speech, "You won't be required on Monday." Bad company! As for the
heartbreaking cases of young men who go up to the Universities full of
bright hope and equipped at all points splendidly, they are almost too
pitiful. Very often the lads who have done so well that subscriptions
are raised for them are the ones who go wrong soonest. A smart student
wins a scholarship or two, and his parents or relatives make a dead-lift
effort to scrape money so that the clever fellow may go well through his
course. At the end of a year the youth fails to present any trophies of
distinction; he comes home as a lounger; this is "slow" and the other is
"slow," and the old folk are treated with easy contempt. Still there is
hope--so very brilliant a young gentleman must succeed in the end. But
the brilliant one has taken up with rich young cads who affect
bull-terriers and boxing-gloves; he is not averse from a street-brawl in
the foggy November days; he can take his part in questionable choruses;
he yells on the tow-path or in the pit of the theatre, and he is often
shaky in the morning after a dose of very bad wine.
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