At college, he
invites his poor fellow-students to his room, where he "wines and dines"
them. He is cajoled and caressed, and called a glorious good follow,
because he is so lavish of his money. He gives his game suppers, drives
his fast horses, invites his chums to fetes and parties, determined to
have lots of "good times." He spends the night in frolics and
debauchery, and leads off his companions with the familiar song, "we
won't go home till morning." He gets them to join him in pulling down
signs, taking gates from their hinges and throwing them into back yards
and horse-ponds. If the police arrest them, he knocks them down, is
taken to the lockup, and joyfully foots the bills.
"Ah! my boys," he cries, "what is the use of being rich, if you can't
enjoy yourself?"
He might more truly say, "if you can't make a fool of yourself;" but he
is "fast," hates slow things, and doesn't "see it." Young men loaded
down with other people's money are almost sure to lose all they inherit,
and they acquire all sorts of bad habits which, in the majority of
cases, ruin them in health, purse and character. In this country, one
generation follows another, and the poor of to-day are rich in the next
generation, or the third. Their experience leads them on, and they
become rich, and they leave vast riches to their young children.
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