The man will approve of the letter; he will think me sensible and himself extraordinarily wise.

Does that seem to you to be cynical?  I don’t think it is.  The man is sincerely anxious for the boy’s welfare, just as I am, and we had better agree than disagree.  The fault of his letter is that it is stupid, and that it is offensive.  The former quality I can forgive, and the latter is only stupidity in another form.  He thinks in his own mind that if I am paid to educate the boy I ought to be glad of advice, that I ought to be grateful to have things that I am not likely to detect for myself pointed out by an enlightened and benevolent man.

Meanwhile I shall proceed to treat the boy on my own theory.  I don’t expect him to play games; I don’t think that it is, humanly speaking, possible to expect a sensitive, frail boy to continue to play a game in which he only makes himself ridiculous and contemptible from first to last.  Of course if a boy who is incapable of success in athletics does go on playing games perseveringly and good-humouredly, he gets a splendid training, and, as a rule, conciliates respect.  But this boy could not do that.

Then I shall try to encourage the boy in any taste he may exhibit, and try to build up a real structure on these slender lines.  The great point is that he shall have some absorbing and wholesome instinct.  He will be wealthy, and in a position to gratify any whim.  He is not in the least likely to do anything foolish or vicious—­he has not got the animal spirits for that.  I shall encourage him to take up politics; and I shall try to put into his head a desire to do something for his fellow-creatures, and not to live an entirely lonely and self-absorbed life.

I have a theory that in education it is better to encourage aptitudes than to try merely to correct deficiencies.  One can’t possibly extirpate weaknesses by trying to crush them.  One must build up vitality and interest and capacity.  It is like the parable of the evil spirits.  It is of no use simply to cast them out and leave the soul empty and swept; one must encourage some strong, good spirit to take possession; one must build on the foundations that are there.

The boy is delicate-minded, able and intelligent; he is an interesting companion, when he is once at his ease.  If only this busy, fussy, hearty old bore would leave him alone!  What I am afraid of his doing is of his getting the boy to stay with him, making him go out hunting, and laughing mercilessly at his tumbles.  The misery that a stupid, genial man can inflict upon a sensitive boy like this is dreadful to contemplate.

At the end of the half I shall write a letter about the boy’s work, and delicately hint that, if he is encouraged in his subject, he may attain high distinction and eventually rise to political or scientific eminence.  The old bawler will take the fly with a swirl—­ see if he does not!  And, if I can secure an interview with him, I will wager that my triumph will be complete.