happiness.

My father had a brother, his elder by many years; a man of stern and
rigid character, as I then considered him; but, as I would now call him,
of upright, firm, and honourable principle. He loved my father, but did
not love his weakness; and the display of it, in his indulgence towards
me, was the cause of many a serious, if not sometimes angry, debate
between them. Well do I remember (for it rankled like poison in my
swelling heart) a declaration he once made in my presence. It was a
fine autumnal evening, and he was seated with my father and mother in
a balcony, which opened from the library-window upon a spacious lawn.
I entered the room, and advanced towards them, unconscious, of course,
that their conversation had been about me; but my uncle looking at me
with a severe expression of countenance, and at the same time addressing
his brother, exclaimed, "Well, James, neither you nor I may live to see
it; but if the grace of God, or his own better reflection, as he grows
older, do not work a change in this young squire, a duel, Jack Ketch,
or a razor, will work his exit some day or other."

My father smiled--I saw my mother wipe away a tear--at that moment
I could have struck my uncle dead. I muttered a few words--I knew not
what, and left the room. Boy as I was, (for I had barely completed
my seventeenth year,) I felt all the vindictive passions of manhood
kindling within me. It seemed as if a sentence had been passed upon
me, the more terrible, because a secret voice whispered to me, it was
prophetic! _That impression never forsook me!_

I questioned my father haughtily, a few days afterwards, as to the
reasons of his brother for thus speaking of me; and I even dared to
insinuate, that, had he felt what a father should, he would have