M
y family had its origin in a village in the mountains of Leon, and nature had been kinder and more generous to it than fortune, though my father would have passed for a rich man even, in these generally poverty-stricken communities, and he would have actually been wealthy had he been as dedicated to preserving his property as he was in spending it.
He had acquired this tendency of his to be liberal and profuse from having been a soldier in his youth, because the soldier's life is a school in which the penny-pincher becomes free-handed and the free-handed prodigal at spending, and if any soldiers are to be found who are money-hoarders, they are animals of a rare occurrence.
I leaped on-board the enemy's galley.
My father went beyond liberality and bordered on prodigality, a disposition by no means advantageous to a married man who has children to succeed to his name and position.
My father had three, all sons, and all of sufficient age to make choice of a profession.
Finding, then, that he was unable to resist his propensity, he decided to divest himself of the instrument and cause of his prodigality and lavishness, to divest himself of wealth, without which Alexander himself would have seemed greedy.
And so one day, he called all three of us into a room and addressed us in words somewhat to the following effect:
