my duty to have no hand in such a piece of foolery. I feel that it is so
even on your own account, and particularly on mother's account. The
eastern forty acres I intend to keep for mother while she lives; if you
will not cultivate it, it will rent for enough to support her--at least,
it will rent for something. Her dower in the other two forties she can
let you have, and no thanks to me. Now, do not misunderstand this
letter; I do not write it in any unkindness. I write it in order, if
possible, to get you to face the truth, which truth is, you are
destitute because you have idled away all your time. Your thousand
pretences for not getting along better are all nonsense; they deceive
nobody but yourself. Go to work is the only cure for your case.

A word to mother. Chapman tells me he wants you to go and live with him.
If I were you I would try it awhile. If you get tired of it (as I think
you will not), you can return to your own home. Chapman feels very
kindly to you, and I have no doubt he will make your situation very
pleasant.




_Note for Law Lecture. Written about July 1, 1850_


I am not an accomplished lawyer. I find quite as much material for a
lecture in those points wherein I have failed, as in those wherein I
have been moderately successful. The leading rule for a lawyer, as for
the man of every other calling, is diligence. Leave nothing for
to-morrow which can be done to-day. Never let your correspondence fall
behind. Whatever piece of business you have in hand, before stopping, do