He's got himself made master of a college, fine as a fiddle, and he cares more about that than about his brother.

With all his prayers and his sermons in church every Sunday, he'd let me go to the dogs rather than live out the truth.

He thinks I've gone to the devil now, because I left him in a rage, and I told him I'd go and learn to spend my money, and drink, and swear, and gamble as a _gentleman_ should.

He thinks I've done it, and he writes and implores me, by all that's holy, to forsake evil courses; but never a word like 'Come back and set up your shop, old fellow, and I'll be your customer.' That's the amount of his religion." "It was a hard choice ye put upon him," said Bates, solemnly.
"You think it was?
Well!" The young man gave a boisterous laugh.
"For, in the first place, it's not his fault, but your own entirely, if ye go to the bad." "I've not gone to the bad; but if I had, if I'd gone straight there, it would have been his fault." "'Twould just have been your own.

There's just one man that's responsible for your actions, and that's yourself.