All the way up to London he had pondered what he should say to Tom by way of parting advice--something that the boy could keep in his head ready for use.

By way of assisting meditation, he had even gone the length of taking out his flint and steel and tinder, and hammering away for a quarter of an hour till he had manufactured a light for a long Trichinopoli cheroot, which he silently puffed, to the no small wonder of coachee, who was an old friend, and an institution on the Bath road, and who always expected a talk on the prospects and doings, agricultural and social, of the whole country, when he carried the Squire.
To condense the Squire's meditation, it was somewhat as follows: "I won't tell him to read his Bible, and love and serve God; if he don't do that for his mother's sake and teaching, he won't for mine.

Shall I go into the sort of temptations he'll meet with?
No, I can't do that.
Never do for an old fellow to go into such things with a boy.

He won't understand me.

Do him more harm than good, ten to one.