decency, so indifferent to his pledges and to his duty, so false, so callous, so unchristian, as the writer of this letter proves himself to be, is almost incredible to me. I have always recognized with sorrow that you had many faults and weaknesses; that you were dangerously fond of the pleasures of the world, and sadly lacking in strength and decision of character. But this I attributed to your youth. I had never suspected that you were a monster of ingratitude, a coward, a poltroon. With what a shock the revelation of your baseness comes to me, I leave you to imagine. I shudder when I think of the punishment that must some time overtake you; for it is not within the bounds of Divine justice that such conduct should go forever unpunished. I trust and pray that you may be led to a timely repentance.
"For a while I hesitated about showing your letter to Fanny. I was ashamed to let her, or indeed any one else, see to what depths my own son could stoop; and I hated also to destroy her illusions concerning you, and her respect and affection for you. But eventually I concluded that I really ought to do so, that she was entitled to know everything that related to her betrothed husband. So, having tried to prepare her for its contents, I gave her your letter to read. She took it and read it; and then, much to my surprise, she did not manifest any surprise at all. She confessed to me that she had always been afraid you were very worldly and depraved, and capable, if not guilty, of almost any wickedness; and that this letter simply confirmed her fears. Just think of that! She said she had concealed her opinion from me, through consideration for my feelings, and reluctance to occasion me such anguish as she knew I must suffer now. Those were her exact words. Imagine my mortification at hearing my child spoken of in such terms by that angel, and being unable to defend him! She went on to say that, so far as she personally was concerned, she freely forgave both your behavior toward her and the insulting expressions you made use of about her, but that she never would or could forgive your outrageous conduct toward your mother. It would be her earnest prayer that your proud heart might be humbled and chastened, and your eyes opened to the folly and the sinfulness of your ways. She pointed out that the saddest aspect of your letter was its hypocrisy—your endeavor to disguise your selfishness and faithlessness under the cloak of virtue. You actually have the presumption to preach a sermon to your mother. All your talk about right and duty and religion would make me smile, if it were less impious and blasphemous.
"I have waited till now to answer your letter, so that my grief and my indignation might abate sufficiently for me to write calmly and without heat. Now, after much thought, and after having taken the advice of Fanny, and of the Rev. Mr. Wilcox (who, though a young man, is as wise as he is good), our new pastor, this is what I have to say:
"Of course, being over the age of twenty-one years, you are a free agent, and are at liberty to do in every respect whatever pleases you, without consulting your mother. You are at liberty to commit the worst crimes, and to practise the lowest vices; and I have no power to restrain
