We had no griefs--not even that one
which most commonly afflicts parents, the loss of children. Yet I
sometimes think, sir, that it would be far better for some children to
die in their youth and innocence, than to grow up and become bad men,
and torture and almost kill their parents with ingratitude and
unkindness." Marcus guessed what was to come.
"We had but one child--a boy--born long after I had given up all hopes
of having an heir. I need not tell you, sir, what a joy he was to us in
his infancy; for you, too, I presume, are a husband and a father."
Marcus replied confusedly, and as if it were something to be ashamed of,
that he was neither the one nor the other, though he hoped some day
(here he was exceedingly awkward) to be both.
The old gentleman was so wrapped up in his own thoughts, that he did not
seem to notice the reply. He again braced himself in the chair, as if he
would, by that act, gather strength to proceed.
"Of course, I called the child Myndert. He was the seventh of that name;
and I used to think, even when he was a toddling little baby, what plans
of education would be best suited to develop his talents.
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