HnnMlPi™ 
 
 I I 
 
 Wlllll 

 
 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA 
 LOS ANGELES

 
 ANECDOTES 
 
 BOYS. 
 
 ENTERTAINING NARRATIVES AND ANECDOTE8, 
 ILLUSTRATIVE OF PRINCIPLES AND CHARACTER. 
 
 HARYEY XEWCOMB, 
 
 ABTKOB 0? ;i HOW TO BE A LADY,"' "HOT TO BE A MAS," ETC. 
 
 SEVENTH THOUSAND. 
 
 BOSTON: 
 GOULD AND LINCOLN 
 
 NEW YORK: 
 
 SHELDON, LAMPORT, AND BLAKEMAN. 
 
 1854.
 
 Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1847, 
 
 lir Gould, Kendall and Lincoln, 
 
 In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the District of Massachusetts
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 I have noticed that young people are fond 
 of reading anecdotes, narratives, parables, &c. 
 This taste of theirs sometimes leads them to 
 devour all the trash that comes in their way, 
 with no other object than mere amusement. 
 But, if properly guarded, it may be the means 
 of conveying truth to their minds in a form not 
 only more attractive, but more readily under- 
 stood. The design of this book is, to supply 
 reading of this kind, which shall be not only 
 entertaining but instructive. I never write for 
 the amusement 'of the reader merely. But I 
 am glad if he is entertained at the same time 
 that he is instructed. 
 
 This book is not a mere compilation of 
 stories. Its main object is to illustrate truth 
 and character. No anecdote has been admitted 
 but such as could be turned to this account ; and 
 
 i* 
 
 LIBRARY
 
 VI PREFACE. 
 
 if suited to tins purpose, the question has not 
 been asked whether it vas new or old. But 
 nearly every one has been entirely rewritten, 
 presented in a new dress, and made to bear on 
 the object in view. The work was suggested, 
 while writing my last two publications, "How 
 to be a Man," and " How to be a Lady." I had 
 designed to illustrate the topics there treated of, 
 in this manner, but could not find space. The 
 favor with which these works have been received, 
 has encouraged me to undertake something of 
 the kind separately. I have prepared two vol- 
 umes, one for boys and one for girls, but the 
 matter in each is entirely distinct. The same 
 anecdote is in no instance introduced into both 
 books ; though in some cases the topics are simi 
 lar. They form a pair, for the rising youth of 
 both sexes ; and if they shall contribute in any 
 degree towards forming their characters, aftei 
 the true model, my object will be attained. 
 
 Grantville, Mass., S>~pt. 1847.
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 The Boy makes the Man. — Benedict Arnold — 
 
 George Washington — Gov. Ritner — Roger Sherman. • • 9 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 Filial Piety. — George Washington — ohey God 
 rather than man — a son's love — filial piety rewarded — 
 filial tenderness — filial impiety punished — think how 
 you will feel when your parents are gone — benefit of 
 obedience — reward of disobedience — conscientious obe- 
 dience — cheerful obedience, sullen obedience, and diso- 
 bedience. 16 
 
 CHAPTER m. 
 Social Virtues and Vices. — Brotherly affection 
 — the golden rule — gratitude and benevolence — man- 
 ners — overcome evil with good — use of the tongue — 
 contention — punctuality. 31 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 Bad Company and Bad Habits. — Green, the re 
 formed gambler — profaneness — playing truant — ruin
 
 Vlll CONTENTS. 
 
 of a deacon's son — bad books — intemperance- -going 
 to the theatre — gaming 70 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 Industry — Labor, &c. — An Indian story — 
 
 business first and then pleasure — industry. 90 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 True Greatness. — Anecdotes of President Jef- 
 ferson, Chief Justice Marshall, Chancellor Kent, and 
 Dr. Franklin. 97 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 Advantages of Honesty. — Colbert — two oppo 
 site examples — fruits of dishonesty. 101 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 Pursuit of Knowledge. — Reading — love of 
 
 learnino- — dislike of study. 109 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 Miscellaneous Subjects. — Fickleness — ir.de 
 pendence of character — contentment — the old black 
 sheep. 115 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 Religion. — Religious knowledge — the Sabbath ■— . 
 
 early piety recommended — uncertainty of life. 124
 
 ANECDOTES FOR BOYS. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 THE BOY MAKES THE MAN. 
 
 MAN'S character is formed 
 early in life. There may be 
 some exceptions. In some 
 instances, very great changes 
 take place after a person has 
 grown to manhood. But, 
 even in such cases, many of 
 the early habits of thought, 
 feeling, and action still remain. 
 And sometimes, we are disappoint- 
 ed in the favorable appearances of 
 early life. Xot unfrequently the 
 promising boy, in youth or early man- 
 hood, runs a rapid race downward in 
 the road to ruin. All the promising 
 appearances failed, because they were 
 not formed upon religious principle and a change 
 of heart. But, as a general rule, show me the
 
 10 BENEDICT ARNOLD. 
 
 boy, and I will show you the man. The follow- 
 ing cases afford .'Uustrations of this principle. 
 
 Benedict Arnold. 
 
 I suppose all my readers have heard of Bene- 
 dict Arnold, the traitor ; and of his attempt to 
 betray his country into the hands of the British, 
 during the Revolutionary War. His name is a 
 by-word in the mouth of every lover of liberty 
 in the land. But there are few that know how 
 he came to be such a character. When we come 
 to learn his early history we feel no more sur- 
 prise. His father was an intemperate man ; 
 and at an early age, Benedict was placed with 
 an apothecary, in Norwich, Connecticut, his 
 native town. His master soon discovered in 
 him the most offensive traits of character. He 
 seemed to be entirely destitute of moral prin- 
 ciple, and even of conscience. He added to a 
 passionate love of mischief a cruel disposition and 
 a violent, ungovernable temper. He had no 
 sympathy with any thing that was good. His 
 boyish pleasures were of the criminal and unfeel- 
 ing cast. He would rob the nests of birds, and 
 mangle and maim the young ones, that he might 
 be diverted by their mcther's cries. He would
 
 BENEDICT ARNOLD. 11 
 
 throw broken pieces of glass into the street, 
 where the children passed barefooted, that they 
 might hurt their feet. He would persuade the 
 little boys to come round the door of his shop, 
 and then beat them with a horse-whip. All this 
 showed a malicious disposition, and great hard- 
 ness of heart. He hated instruction and despised 
 reproof; and his master could not instil into his 
 mind any religious or moral principles, nor make 
 any good impression upon his heart. 
 
 Before Benedict had reached his sixteenth 
 year, he twice enlisted as a soldier and was 
 brought back by his friends. He repaid his 
 mother's kindness with baseness and ingratitude ; 
 so that, between the intemperance and wretched- 
 ness of the father, and the cruelty and depravity 
 of the son, she died of a broken heart. When 
 he grew up, the same character followed him. 
 "We need not be surprised, then, that, in the 
 most critical period of his country's history, he 
 betrayed his trust. He was a General in the 
 American Army, in the Revolutionary War ; and 
 by his extravagance, and his overbearing behav- 
 ior, he brought upon himself a reprimand from 
 the American Congress. His temper, naturally 
 impetuous, had never been controlled, and he 
 could not bear reproof. He was bent on re- 
 venge ; and to accomplish it, he entered into a
 
 X 
 
 12 GEORGE WASHINGTON. 
 
 negotiation, through Major Andre, to deliver up 
 West Point, of which he had the command, to 
 the enemy. If the plot had not been discovered 
 and prevented it would have been a very great 
 calamity to our country. It might have turned 
 the scale against us. I have some personal rea- 
 son to feel indignant at the traitor, besides 
 what arises from the love of country ; for my 
 father was on picket guard at West Point, the 
 night in which it was to have been delivered up, 
 and would have been the first man killed. If 
 Arnold had been caught, he would have closed 
 his career on the gallows ; but, as it was, he 
 escaped, and a more worthy man suffered. He 
 received, as the reward of his treachery, the ap- 
 pointment of Brigadier General in the British 
 Army, and ten thousand pounds sterling. But 
 his name will go down with the history of his 
 country, to the latest generation, black with infa- 
 my. He was a bad boy, and he made a bad man. 
 And, as Solomon has said, " The name of the 
 wicked shall rot." 
 
 GEORGE WASHINGTON. 
 
 A single incident, in the history of George 
 Washington as a bog, furnishes a clew to the 
 character of George Washington as a man. I
 
 GOVERNOR RITNER. 13 
 
 refer to the well known story of the new hatchet 
 and the cherry-tree, with his refusing to tell a 
 lie ; which I need not repeat, because it is pre- 
 served in the books that are read in our common 
 schools, arid embalmed in the memory of the ris- 
 ing generation. This incident shows that he had 
 already in his bosom a deep-seated principle of 
 stern integrity, which no temptation could shake. 
 This was the leading feature in his character 
 when he became a man. AVe have evidence, 
 also, from other incidents which have been rela- 
 ted of his early life, that strong, deep-seated, filial 
 piety, was one of the prominent elements of his 
 youthful character. He had learned, in early 
 life, to honor and obey his parents ; and this 
 taught him to love and reverence his country, in- 
 stead of making himself a despot, as most success- 
 ful generals do. But, at the bottom of all, was 
 the religious element. Religious principle con- 
 trolled his conduct both in private and public 
 life. 
 
 GOVERNOR RITNER. 
 
 Joseph Ritner, who was for some time a mem- 
 ber of the legislature of Pennsylvania, and after- 
 wards Governor of that state, was once a bound 
 boy to Jacob Myers, an independent farmer, who 
 2
 
 14 ROGER SHERMAN. 
 
 brought him up. "While he was governor, there 
 was a celebration of the fourth of July, at which 
 Mr. Myers gave the following toast : — " Joseph 
 Ritner — he was always a good hoy, and has 
 still grown better ; every thing he did, he always 
 did well ; he made a good farmer, and a good 
 legislator; and he makes a very good governor." 
 All this man's greatness was the result of his 
 being a good boy. 
 
 ROGER SHERMAN. 
 
 Rogpr Sherman, in his public life, always acted 
 so strictly from his own convictions of what was 
 right, that Fisher Ames used to say, if he hap- 
 pened to be out of his seat in Congress when a 
 subject was discussed, and came in when the 
 question was about to be taken, he always felt 
 safe in voting as Mr. Sherman did, "for lie always 
 voted right." This was Mr. Sherman's character 
 everywhere. But, if we inquire how it came 
 to be such we must go back to his early life. 
 
 Mr. Sherman's character was formed upon the 
 principles of the Bible. And, when he was an 
 apprentice, instead of joining in the rude and vul- 
 gar conversation, so common among the class to 
 which he then belonged, he would sit at his work 
 with a book before him, devoting every moment
 
 ROGER SHERMAN. 15 
 
 to study, that his eyes could be spared from the 
 occupation in which he was engaged. "When he 
 was twenty-one years of age he made a profession 
 of religion. He was as familiar with theology as 
 he was with politics and law. He read the Bible 
 more than any other book. Always, when he 
 went to Congress, he would purchase a copy of 
 the Bible, at the commencement of the session, 
 to read every day ; and when he went home, he 
 woujd present it to one of his children. Mr. 
 Macon, of Georgia, said of him, that he had 
 more common sense than any man he ever knew. 
 Mr. Jefferson, one day, as he was pointing out 
 to a friend the distinguished men in Congress, 
 said of him, * That is Mr. Sherman, a man who 
 never said a foolish thing in his life" Mr. Sher- 
 man was a self-educated man, a shoemaker, and 
 a Christian. He was brought up, after the old 
 New-England fashion, in a pious Connecticut 
 family. And, as teas the boy, so was the man. 
 If you would be a good man, you must be a good 
 boy. If you would be a wise man you must be 
 a studious boy. If you would have an excellent 
 character, it must be formed after the model de- 
 lineated in the Holy Bible. The basis must be 
 a change of heart. The superstructure must 
 be laid up on the principles of God's word.
 
 16 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 FILIAL PIETY. 
 
 Y Filial Piety, I mean the 
 exercise of those feelings of 
 reverence, submission, and love; 
 and the faithful and conscien- 
 tious discharge of those du- 
 ties, which children owe their 
 parents. 
 
 The first duty which man 
 owes, is to God ; the * second, to his 
 Parents. They are his appointed 
 guardians, in the season of helpless- 
 ness and inexperience. God has 
 entrusted him to their care ; and in 
 return for that care, he requires honor 
 and obedience. A child cannot be pious 
 toward God without being pious to- 
 ward his parents. The corner stone of a good 
 character must be laid in piety towards God ; the 
 rest of the foundation, in piety towards Parents. 
 Show me the boy that honors his parents, and I 
 will show you the man that will obey the laws of 
 his country, and make a good citizen. Show me
 
 WASHINGTON. 17 
 
 the boy that is disobedient to his parents, and 
 turbulent and ungovernable at home, and I will 
 show you the man that will set at naught the 
 laws of his country, and be ready to every evil 
 work. When a boy ceases to respect his father 
 or to love his mother, and becomes tired of home 
 and its sacred endearments, there is very little 
 hope of him. 
 
 GEORGE WASHINGTON. 
 
 "When George Washington was about fourteen 
 years of age, he wanted to join the Navy. Ac- 
 cordingly, all the arrangements were made for him, 
 in company with several of his young compan- 
 ions, to go on board a man of war. When the time 
 arrived, he went into the sitting-room, to take 
 leave of his mother. He found her in tears. 
 He threw his arms about her neck and kissed her, 
 and was about bidding her " farewell ; " but seeing 
 her so much afflicted, he suddenly relinquished 
 his purpose. The boat which was taking officers, 
 men, and baggage, from the shore to the ship, 
 went back and forth, in his sight. At length it 
 came ashore for the last time. A signal flag 
 was raised to show that all was ready. George 
 was standing, viewing all these movements. 
 Several of his companions now entered the boat, 
 2*
 
 18 FILIAL PIETY. 
 
 and as they approached the ship, signal guns 
 were fired ; and soon after, the sails rose majesti 
 cally, one after another. George could no longer 
 bear the sight, but entered the room where 
 his mother sat. Observing that his counte- 
 nance bore a strong expression of grief, she said, 
 u I fear, my son, that you have repented your 
 determination to stay at home and make me 
 happy." " My dear mother," he replied, placing 
 his arms round her neck, and giving vent to his 
 feelings in a gush of tea*, " I did strongly wish 
 to go ; but I could not endure being on board the 
 ship, and know that you were unhappy." He 
 was young, ardent, and ambitious, and had doubt- 
 less anticipated, with great delight, the pleasure 
 he should have, in sailing to different places, on 
 board a man of war ; and, although the expecta- 
 tion of pleasure which boys sometimes indulge, in 
 the prospect of a sea-faring life are delusive ; yet, 
 it was a noble generosity to sacrifice all the high 
 hopes he had cherished, to the feelings of his 
 mother. 
 
 Obey God rather than man. 
 
 As a general thing, it is the duty of children 
 to obey their parents ; but, when a parent com- 
 mands what is wrong, the child should not obey.
 
 FILIAL PIETY. 19 
 
 A poor woman told her son to cut down a large 
 pear tree, which stood in the garden of the cot- 
 tage where they lived, for firewood, as they were 
 suffering from cold. They boy made no answer. 
 His mother repeated her command ; but he still 
 hesitated, and said, "Mother, I ought to obey 
 you, but I must first obey God. The tree is not 
 ours. It belongs to our landlord ; and you know 
 that God says, ' Thou shalt not steal.' I hope 
 you will not make me cut it down." She yielded, 
 for the time ; but after suffering from cold a day 
 or two longer, she told him he must cut down the 
 tree. He then said to her, u Mother ; God has 
 often helped us, and supplied our wants w r hen we 
 have been in trouble. Let us wait till this time 
 to-morrow. Then, if we do not find some relief, 
 though I am sure it will be wrong, yet if you 
 make me do it, I will cut the tree in obedience to 
 your command." To this she agreed. The boy 
 retired to his closet, and prayed earnestly that 
 God would help them, and save him from being 
 compelled to break his law. The next morning, 
 he went out and found a man whose wagon had 
 broken down under a heavy load of coal. He 
 told the man his case, who agreed to let him carry 
 away the coal, and they might pay for it, if they 
 were able, when he called for it. But he never 
 called. It is always safe to do rigid.
 
 20 FILIAL PIETY REWARDED. 
 
 A son's love. 
 
 A man in Sweden was condemned to suffer 
 death for some offences committed while he held 
 a public office. He had a son, about eighteen 
 years of age ; who, as soon as he heard of it, 
 hastened to the judge and begged that he might 
 be allowed to suffer instead of his father. The 
 judge wrote to the king about it ; who was so 
 affected by it that he sent orders to grant the 
 father a free pardon, and confer upon the son a 
 title of honor. This, however, the son refused to 
 receive. " Of what avail," said he, " could the 
 most exalted title be to me, humbled as my family 
 already is in the dust ? " The king wept, when 
 he heard of it, and sent for the young man to his 
 court. 
 
 Filial piety revjarded. 
 
 Frederick, king of Prussia, one day rung his 
 bell, and nobody answering, opened the door and 
 found his page fast asleep. Seeing a letter in his 
 pocket, he took it out and read it, and found it 
 was a letter from his mother, thanking him for 
 having sent a part of his wages to relieve her 
 wants. The king was so much pleased that ho
 
 FILIAL TENDERNESS. 21 
 
 slipped a bag full of ducats into the young man's 
 pocket, along with the letter. 
 
 Filial Tenderness. 
 
 A young man, newly admitted to the military 
 school in France, would eat nothing but bread 
 and soup, and drink nothing but water. He was 
 reproved for his singularity ; but still he would 
 not change. He was finally threatened with be- 
 ing sent home, if he persisted. " You will not, 
 I hope, be displeased with me," said he to the 
 Principal of the institution ; " but I could not 
 bring myself to enjoy what I think a luxury, 
 while I reflect that my dear father and mother 
 are in the utmost indigence. They could afford 
 themselves and me no better food than the coars- 
 est of bread, and of that but very little. Here 
 I have excellent soup, and as much fine wheat 
 bread as I choose. I look upon this to be very 
 good living ; and the recollection of the situation 
 in which I left my parents, would not permit me 
 to indulge myself by eating any thing else." 
 
 Filial impiety punished. 
 
 God has promised long life and prosperity to 
 the child that honors his parents. Of course,
 
 22 FILIAL IMP1ET1. 
 
 this promise is not meant to be absolute 1 for 
 many die before they have an opportunity o/ 
 obeying the command, and others are taken away 
 for wise reasons. But, as a general principle, 
 the promise is verified. On the contrary, the 
 word of God declares, " The eye that mocketh at 
 his father, and scorneth to obey his mother, the 
 ravens of the valley shall pick it out, and the 
 young eagles shall eat it ;" meaning that God 
 will visit with sore punishment those that despise 
 and ill-treat their parents. Boys, when they be- 
 gin to approach manhood, are very apt to think 
 themselves wiser than their parents, and to be 
 restive and turbulent under restraint. Two 
 young men in England, the sons of pious and 
 wealthy parents, wanted the family carriage to 
 ride out and seek their pleasure on the holy 
 Sabbath. This being repeatedly refused, they 
 resolved to resent it; and accordingly went off 
 with the determination to go to sea. Their father 
 sent word to Rev. Mr. Griffin, of Portsea, re- 
 questing him to find them, and try to persuade 
 them to return. He did so ; and among other 
 things, urged the feelings of their parents ; who, 
 after watching over them with so much care and 
 tender anxiety, must now see all their hopes 
 blasted. This touched the heart of the younger, 
 and he consented to return ; but the elder w*>*
 
 OBSTINACY. 23 
 
 obstinate. The carriage, lie said, had been re- 
 fused, he had made up his mind to go to sea, and 
 to sea he would go. Mr. Griffin then requested 
 the young man to go with him to his house, and 
 he would get him a ship that he might go out as a 
 man and a gentleman. This he declined, giving 
 as a reason, that it would make his parents feel 
 to have it said that their son went out as a com- 
 mon sailor ; as a common sailor, therefore, he 
 would go. " Is that your disposition ? " said Mr. 
 Griffin ; * ; then, young man, go ; and while I say, 
 God go with you, be sure your sin will find you 
 out, and for it God will bring you into judgment." 
 The younger son was restored to his parents, 
 while all traces of the elder were lost, and he 
 was mourned for as for one dead. 
 
 After a considerable time, a sailor called on 
 Mr. Griffin, and informed him that there was a 
 young man on board one of the ships in the har- 
 bor, under sentence of death, who wanted to see 
 him. What was his astonishment, on finding the 
 young man, who had gone to sea to be revenged on 
 his parents for refusing him a sinful indulgence, 
 a prisoner, manacled and guarded ! " I have sent 
 for you," said the young man, " to take my last 
 farewell of you in this world, and to bless you for 
 your efforts to restore me to a sense of my duty. 
 Would to God that I had taken your advice ; but
 
 24 DISOBEDIENCE PUNISHED. 
 
 it is now to late. My sin has found me out, and 
 for it God has brought me into judgment." Mr. 
 Griffin spent some time with the young man in 
 conversation and prayer ; and then hastened to 
 London, to see if he could not get him pardoned. 
 But, when he arrived there, the warrant had al- 
 ready been sent for the young man's execution. 
 He returned home, and arrived on the morning 
 that the young man was to be executed. Within 
 a few minutes after his arrival came a pardon, 
 with which he hastened to the ship, where he met 
 the young man's father, in the greatest agony, as 
 he was returning from taking, as he supposed, his 
 last farewell of his son. Mr. Griffin entered the 
 vessel at the moment when the prisoner, pinioned 
 for execution, was advancing towards the fatal 
 spot. In a few moments, he was restored to the 
 embrace of his father. Thus he suffered shame 
 and ignominy, and the agonies of death, as a pun- 
 ishment for his disobedience to his parents ; 
 though, in consequence of his penitence, his life 
 was spared. 
 
 TJdnh how you will feel when your parents 
 are gone. 
 
 A young man was lamenting the death of a 
 most affectionate parent. His companions, to
 
 BENEFIT OF OBEDIENCE. 25 
 
 console him, said that he had always behaved to 
 the deceased with tenderness, duty, and respect. 
 " So I thought," he replied, " while my parent 
 was living ; but now I recollect with pain and 
 sorrow, many instances of disobedience and neg- 
 lect, for which, alas, it is too late to make any 
 atonement." If you would avoid this bitter re- 
 flection, ask yourself, when disposed to do any 
 thing that will grieve your parents, " With what 
 feelings shall I think of this, when they are dead 
 and gone ? " 
 
 Benefit of Obedience. 
 
 A boy wishing, one afternoon, to go with some 
 other boys, on a sailing excursion, asked permis- 
 sion of his mother, which was not granted. 
 After a severe struggle in his mind between incli- 
 ation and duty, he gave up his anticipated pleas- 
 ure, and remained at home. The other boys 
 went. A sudden flaw of wind capsized their 
 boat, and two of them were drowned. The boy, 
 when he heard of it, was much affected, and said 
 to his mother, " After this I shall always do as 
 you say." 
 
 Reward of Disobedience. 
 
 Another boy was charged by his father, as h* 
 3
 
 26 DISOBEDIENCE PUNISHED. 
 
 was going away, to be gone a few days, not to 
 go on the pond. Saturday, being his holiday, he 
 asked permission of his mother to go a skating. 
 She told him he might skate about in the fields 
 and by the sides of the road, on such patches of 
 ice as he could find; "but," said she, "be sure 
 you do not go on the- pond." He went out; and 
 contrary to the strict charges he had received 
 from his parents, he went on the pond. He 
 thought there was no danger ; for the ice was a 
 foot thick, iput there was a place that had been 
 cut open to get ice, where he and his companions 
 fell in, and he was drowned ! 
 
 Some years ago, a boy in Woburn, named 
 William Wheat, came to a terrible end in conse- 
 quence of disobedience to his parents. Three 
 Sabbaths before his death, he left the Sabbath 
 School, and went to a public house — a place 
 where no boy should go, on any day, unless sent 
 on business. The next Sabbath, his teacher re- 
 proved him, and he was very angry, and declared 
 it was the last time he should ever enter the Sab- 
 bath School ; which proved true. The next 
 Sabbath, he did not go ; and the following Wed- 
 nesday, he got an old gun barrel, which his pa- 
 rents had repeatedly forbidden him to meddle 
 with, and charging it with powder, applied a luci- 
 fer match, to " fire off his cannon" as he called
 
 END OF DISOBEDIENCE. 27 
 
 it. The gun burst and killed him instantly. 
 Here was a boy of a turbulent ungovernable 
 disposition, despising the authority of his parents 
 and the law of God. He only came to the end 
 to which the road, in which he walked, naturally 
 leads. 
 
 Boys should never attempt to set up their own 
 judgment against that of their parents. When 
 a parent denies the requests of his children, he 
 does it, not to deprive them of pleasure, but be- 
 cause he sees a good reason for it. If the child 
 submits, he will one day see that his parents had 
 a good reason, although he could not then per- 
 ceive it. Let this reflection silence all murmur- 
 ing: " My father and mother know letter than I" 
 The truth of this is clearly proved in the fore- 
 going cases. 
 
 Conscientious Obedience. 
 
 Some children obey their parents because it is 
 right, and because they love them. This is true, 
 conscientious obedience — the obedience of the 
 heart. And those who render to their parents 
 this kind of obedience, will be just as careful to 
 obey them, when out of their sight, as in their 
 presence ; and they will be careful not to 
 evade their commands. They only want to know
 
 28 A tofiAVE BOY. 
 
 the wishes of their parents, promptly to obey 
 them. 
 
 The shouts of half a dozen children were 
 heard from the piazza of one of the large board- 
 ing houses at Saratoga Springs — "0 yes ; that's 
 capital ! so we will ! Come on now ! there 's 
 William Hale ! Come on, William, we 're going 
 to have a ride on the Circular Railway. Come 
 with us ? " " Yes, if my mother is willing. I 
 will run and ask her," replied William. " O, ! 
 so you must run and ask your ma. Great baby, 
 run along to your ma! Ain't you ashamed? 
 I did n't ask my mother." " Nor I." " Nor I," 
 added half a dozen voices. " Be a man, Wil- 
 liam," cried the first voice, — " come along with 
 us, if you don't want to be called a coward as long 
 as you live. Don't you see we are all waiting ? " 
 
 William was standing with one foot advanced, 
 and his hand firmly clenched, in the midst of the 
 group, with flushed brow, flashing eye, compress- 
 ed lip, and changing cheek, all showing how the 
 epithet coward rankled in his breast. It was 
 doubted, for a moment, whether he would have 
 the true bravery to be called a coward rather 
 than do wrong. But, with a voice trembling 
 with emotion, he replied, " I will not go without I 
 ask my mother ; and I am no coward either. I 
 promised her I would not go from the house with-
 
 OBEDIENCE ILLUSTRATED. 20 
 
 out permission, and I should be a base coward, if 
 I were to tell her a wicked lie." 
 
 In the evening, William was walking 'n the 
 parlor, among the crowd, with his mother, a 
 Southern lady, of gentle, polished manners, who 
 looked with pride on her graceful boy, whose fine 
 face was fairly radiant with animation and intel- 
 ligence. Well might she be proud of such a 
 son, who could dare to do right, when all were 
 tempting him to do wrong. 
 
 Cheerful Obedience, Sullen Obedience, and 
 Disobedience. 
 
 When children are away from home, they are 
 bound to obey those to whose care their parents 
 have entrusted them. Three boys, Eobert, 
 George, and Alfred, went to spend a week with 
 a gentleman, who took them to be agreeable, 
 well-behaved boys. There was a great pond 
 near his house, with a flood-gate, where the water 
 ran out. It was cold weather, and the pond was 
 frozen over ; but the gentleman knew that the 
 ice was very thin near the floodgate. The first 
 morning after they came, he told them they might 
 go and slide on the pond, if they would not go 
 near the flood-gate. Soon after they were gone, 
 he followed them to see that they were safe. 
 3*
 
 30 TRUE OBEDIENCE. 
 
 When he got there, he found Robert sliding in 
 the very place where he had told him not to go. 
 This was disobedience outright. George was 
 walking sullenly by the side of the pond, not so 
 much as sliding at all, because he had been for- 
 bidden to venture on the dangerous part. This 
 was sullen obedience; which is, in reality, no 
 obedience at all, because it comes not from the 
 heart. But Alfred was cheerfully enjoying him- 
 self, in a capital-, long slide, upon a safe part of 
 the pond. This was true obedience. Suddenly, 
 the ice broke where Robert was sliding, he im- 
 mediately went under water, and it was with diffi- 
 culty that his life was saved. The gentleman 
 concluded that Alfred was a lad of integrity, but 
 that his two brothers were not to be trusted. 
 Obedience secured him happiness, and the confi- 
 dence of the kind gentleman with whom he was 
 staying ; while the others deprived themselves of 
 enjoyment, lost the gentleman's confidence, and 
 one of them nearly lost his life ; and yet, to slide 
 on the dangerous part of the pond would have 
 added nothing to their enjoyment. They desired 
 it from mere wilfulness, because it was forbidden. 
 This disposition indulged, will always lead boys 
 into difficulty ; and if they cherish it while boys, 
 it will go with them through life, and keep them 
 always " in hot water."
 
 31 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 SOCIAL VIRTUES AND VICES. 
 
 Section I. — Brotherly Affection. 
 
 Sergeant Glanville. 
 ♦ 
 USTOMS vary in different 
 countries. In England, when 
 a man dies without making a 
 will, his property goes to his 
 eldest son. Mr. Glanville, 
 who lived in the days of 
 Charles II., had an eldest son, 
 who was incurably vicious ; 
 and seeing no hope of reforming 
 him, the father gave his property 
 to his second son. When Mr. Ser- 
 geant Glanville died, and his eldest 
 son learned what was done, he became 
 greatly dejected, and in a short time 
 his character underwent an entire 
 change. When his brother perceived 
 this, he invited him and a party of his friends to 
 a feast. After several dishes had been served,
 
 32 BROTHERLY AFFECTION. 
 
 he ordered one, covered up, to be set before his 
 brother ; which on being opened, was found to 
 contain the writings that conveyed to him the 
 estate. This, he remarked was what he was sure 
 his father would have done, had he lived to wit- 
 ness the happy change which they saw. 
 
 Generosity of an elder brother. 
 
 Mr. H , an ingenious artist, for want of 
 
 employment, was reduced to great distress, and 
 applied to his elder brother, who was in good 
 circumstances, and begged some little hovel to 
 live in, and some provision for his support. His 
 brother was melted to tears : " You, my dear 
 brother," said he, " you live in a hovel ! You are 
 a man ; you are an honor to the family. I am 
 nothing. You shall take this house and estate, 
 and I will be your guest, if you please." The two 
 brothers lived thus affectionately together, as if it 
 had been common property, till the death of the 
 elder put the artist in possession of the whole. 
 How happy every family of brothers would be, 
 if they would thus share with each other all they 
 have! It would save all disputing about mine 
 and thine. Every one would be equally pleased 
 that his brother was enjoying any thing, as if he 
 had it himself.
 
 33 
 
 Section II. — The Golden Rule. 
 GENEROUS BLACKSMITH. 
 
 R. Wilson, passing late one 
 
 evening by a blacksmith's 
 
 shop, and hearing the sound of 
 
 the hammer much later than 
 
 usual, stepped in to inquire the 
 
 cause. The man told him that 
 
 one of his neighbors had just 
 
 been burned out, and had lost 
 
 y thing ; and he had underta- 
 
 to work an hour earlier in the 
 
 •ning and an hour later at night 
 
 - to help him. 
 
 (JrtCjn " This is kind, in you," said Mr. Wil- 
 
 5 son ; " for I suppose your neighbor will 
 
 never be able to pay you again." 
 
 "I do not expect it," replied the 
 blacksmith ; " but if I were in his situation, and 
 he in mine, I am sure he would do as much for 
 me." 
 
 The next morning, Mr. Wilson called and 
 offered to lend the blacksmith fifty dollars without 
 interest, so that he might be able to buy his iron
 
 34 MICHAEL VERIN. 
 
 cheaper. But the man refused U take it, jut 
 told Mr. Wilson that, if he would lend it to the 
 man whose house was burned down, it would go 
 far towards helping him rebuild his cottage. To 
 this, Mr. "Wilson consented, and had the pleasuie 
 of making two men happy. 
 
 Michael Verin. 
 
 Michael Verin, a Florentine youth, was always 
 foremost ; and his compositions being more cor- 
 rect than those of any other boy in school, he 
 always obtained the first prize. One of his 
 school-fellows, named Belvicino, studied hard 
 night and day, but could never get the prize 
 This grieved him so much that he pined away 
 and grew sick. Verin was strongly attached to 
 Belvicino ; and, discovering the cause of his ill- 
 ness, he determined to remove it. The next com- 
 position day, he made several faults in his Greek 
 version. Belvicino's was judged the best, and 
 he took the prize. This so delighted him that he 
 quickly recovered his health and spirits. But 
 he w r ould never have known to whom he was in- 
 debted for his success, had not the preceptor 
 pressed Verin to tell him why he had made such 
 palpable faults in his composition.
 
 35 
 
 Section III. — Gratitude and Benevolence. 
 
 PLANTING TREES, 
 
 <3 k ^g75> N old man was busily era- 
 ployed in planting and graft- 
 ing an apple tree. Some one 
 passing by. rudely accosted 
 him with the inquiry," " Why 
 do you plant trees, who can- 
 not hope to eat the fruit of 
 them ? " The old man raised 
 himself up, and leaning on his 
 spade, replied, " Some one planted 
 trees before I was born, and I have 
 eaten the fruit ; I now plant for oth- 
 ers, that the memorial of my gratitude 
 may exist when I am dead and gone." 
 It is a very narrow, selfish feeling that 
 confines our views within the circle of 
 our own private interests. If man had been made 
 to live for himself alone, we may justly conclude 
 that every one would have been made by himself, 
 and his bounds marked out, so that he might live 
 alone. But since God has made us to live in
 
 36 
 
 GRATITUDE. 
 
 society, he designs that we should be helpful to 
 each other. The truly ingenuous, benevolent 
 mind, takes more pleasure in an act which 
 will confer blessings upon others, than in one 
 that terminates on himself. The selfish man 
 wraps himself in his cloak, and cares not for the 
 sufferings of others, so that he keeps warm him- 
 self. This old man, however, remembered how 
 much he was indebted to those who had lived 
 before him, and resolved to pay his debts. If 
 we would look around us, we should find our- 
 selves indebted to others, on every side, for the 
 comforts which we now enjoy — first to God, and 
 under him, to those whom he has employed as 
 his agents to give them to us. Ought we not, 
 then, to strive in some measure to repay these 
 obligations, by doing something to promote the 
 happiness and well-being of others ? Who gave 
 us the Gospel ? The missionaries, who preached 
 the gospel to our Saxon ancestors, and the Re- 
 formers, who opened the treasures of God's word, 
 when they were hid under the rubbish of Popish 
 superstition. Ought we not, then, in return for 
 this, to send the blessed gospel to those who are 
 now destitute? Who gave us our civil and reli- 
 gious liberties ? Our fathers who braved the 
 .ocean and the wilderness to establish it, and the 
 sword of the mother country to maintain it.
 
 DR. FRANKLIN. 37 
 
 Ought we not, then, to transmit this precious boon 
 to our posterity ? And so in whatever direction 
 we look, we shall find some blessing for which we 
 are indebted to the noble generosity, public spirit, 
 or christian benevolence of others. Let us return 
 the blessing, with interest, into the bosom of 
 others. Dr. Franklin, having done a favor to 
 some one, and being pressed with thanks, request- 
 ed the person whom he had obliged to embrace 
 the first opportunity of doing a kindness to some 
 other person, and request him to pass it round, as 
 all mankind are friends and brothers. A greater 
 than he has said, " It is more blessed to give 
 than to receive." 
 
 Thomas Cromwell. 
 
 Francis Frescobald, a rich Florentine mer- 
 chant, had become noted for his liberality to the 
 needy and destitute. A young Englishman, 
 named Thomas Cromwell, the son of a poor man, 
 had gone into Italy with the French army, where 
 he found himself in a destitute condition. Hear- 
 ing of the liberality of Frescobald, he applied to 
 him for aid ; who, having inquired into his cir- 
 cumstances, took him to his house, clothed him 
 genteelly, and kept him till he had recovered his 
 strength. He then gave him a good horse, with 
 4
 
 38 
 
 CROMWELL AND FRESCOBALD. 
 
 sixteen ducats of gold in his pockets ; with which, 
 after expressing his gratitude to his benefactor, 
 he made his way home. After his arrival in 
 England, he was taken into the service of Car- 
 dinal Wolsey, who was then the favorite of King 
 Henry VIII., and his Prime Minister. After 
 the death of the Cardinal, Cromwell became the 
 King's favorite ; who made him a baron, a vis- 
 count, Earl of Essex, and finally, lord chancellor 
 of England. 
 
 Frescobald the rich Florentine merchant, by 
 repeated losses both at sea and on the land, was 
 now reduced to poverty. Some English mer- 
 chants, however, were owing him fifteen thousand 
 ducats, and he came to England to collect the 
 money. The lord chancellor, as he was riding to 
 court, met him in the street, and immediately 
 alighted and embraced him ; and without waiting 
 for his old friend to recognize him, invited him to 
 dine with him. Frescobald, after recollecting 
 himself, concluded it must be the young English- 
 man whom he had assisted, and therefore com- 
 plied with the invitation. When the chancellor 
 returned from court, with a number of the nobil- 
 ity, he introduced them to the merchant, and 
 related the story of the assistance he had received 
 from him in a time of need. After the company 
 were gone, Cromwell inquired of Frescobald
 
 Cromwell's gratitude. 39 
 
 what had brought him to England, who related 
 to him his misfortunes. " I am sorry for them," 
 said he ; " and I will make them as easy to you 
 as I can. But, because men ought to be just 
 before they are kind,, it is fit I should repay the 
 debt I owe you." Then leading him to a closet, 
 he took out sixteen ducats and gave them to 
 Frescobald, saying, " My friend, here is the 
 money you lent me at Florence, with ten pieces 
 you laid out for my apparel, and ten more you 
 paid out for my horse ; but, considering that you 
 are a merchant, and might have made some ad- 
 vantage by this money in the way of trade, take 
 these four bags, in every one of which are four 
 hundred ducats, and enjoy them as free gifts of 
 your friend." These Frescobald would have re- 
 fused, but Cromwell forced them upon him. He 
 then took the names of his debtors and the sums 
 they owed, and sent his servant to demand their 
 payment in fifteen days. In a short time, the 
 entire sum was paid. During this time Fresco- 
 bald lodged at Cromwell's house ; and the latter 
 would have persuaded him to remain in England ; 
 tmt he chose to return to Florence. Here is a 
 Tine illustration of that passage of Scripture, 
 which says, " Cast thy bread upon the waters, for 
 thou shalt find it after many days."
 
 40 THE TRAVELLER. 
 
 Lending to the Lord. 
 
 Solomon says, "He that hath pity on the poor 
 lendeth unto the Lord ; and that which he hath 
 given will he pay him again." The following 
 anecdote affords a very striking illustration of the 
 truth of this passage : 
 
 In the year 1797, as Mr. M. was travel- 
 ling among the mountains in Vermont he was 
 overtaken by a thunder shower, and sought shelter 
 in a small house, on the borders of a great forest. 
 On entering the house and finding no one but a 
 woman and her infant he apologized, and asked 
 the privilege of stopping till the shower was over. 
 The woman said she was glad to have him come 
 in, for she was always terrified by thunder. The 
 gentleman told her she need not be terrified at 
 thunder, if she only trusted in God. After con- 
 versing with her some time on this subject, he 
 inquired whether she had any neighbors, who 
 were religious. She told him she had neighbors 
 about two miles off, but whether they were reli- 
 gious or not, she could not tell. She heard that 
 they had preaching there once a fortnight, but 
 she never attended their meetings. She appear- 
 ed to be extremely ignorant on the subject of
 
 LENDING TO THE LORD. 41 
 
 religion. The rain had now passed over, and all 
 nature smiled. The traveller, as he was about 
 to leave, thanked the woman for her kindness, 
 and expressed to her his earnest desire for the 
 salvation of her soul, and besought her to read 
 the Bible daily, and give diligent heed to its in- 
 structions. But she, with tears in her eyes, con- 
 fessed that she had no Bible. They had never 
 been able, she said, to buy one. " Could you read 
 one if you had it ? " he inquired. She said she 
 could, and would be very glad of the privilege. 
 " Poor woman,'* said he, " I do heartily pity you : 
 farewell." 
 
 As the traveller was preparing to go, he thought 
 to himself, " This woman is in very great want 
 of a Bible. that I had one to give her ! But 
 I have not As for money to buy one, I have 
 none to spare. I have no more than will be ab- 
 solutely necessary for my expenses home. I 
 must go: but if I leave this woman without the 
 means to procure the word of God, she may per- 
 ish for lack of knowledge. What shall I do ? " 
 These passages of Scripture then came to his 
 mind, u He that hath pity on the poor lendeth to 
 the Lord." " Cast thy bread upon the waters, for 
 thou shalt find it after many days." He said in 
 his heart, ' ; I will trust in the Lord." He took a 
 dollar from his purse, went back and gave it to 
 4*
 
 42 THE LOAN REPAID. 
 
 the woman, telling her to buy a Bible with it. 
 She promised to do so, and said she knew where 
 one could be obtained. 
 
 The traveller set out, and when night came he 
 took lodgings at a private house. He had a little 
 change left, but as he had two days more to 
 travel, he thought he would make his supper on 
 a cold morsel, which he had with him. But, 
 when the family came to the table, he was urged 
 to take a seat with them, and invited to ask a 
 blessing. He now began to feel himself among 
 friends, and at liberty to speak of divine things ; 
 and the family seemed gratified in listening to his 
 conversation. In the morning, he offered to pay 
 for his lodging, but the people would take noth- 
 ing. He travelled on, till late in the morning, 
 when, finding no hotel, he stopped at a private 
 house for breakfast. While waiting, he lost no 
 time to recommend Christ to the family. When 
 ready to depart, the mistress of the house would 
 take nothing for his breakfast, or the oats, which 
 his horse had eaten. And so he went on, asking 
 for and receiving refreshment when he wanted it, 
 and offering to pay for it, as any other traveller 
 would do ; but no one would take any thing, al- 
 though they did not know but he had plenty of 
 money. " What does this mean ? " said he to 
 himself. I was never treated in this manner on
 
 THE LOAN REPAID. 43 
 
 a journey before." He recollected the dollar lie 
 had given the poor woman, and the passage of 
 Scripture, which induced him to do it, and said, " I 
 have been well paid. It is indeed safe lending 
 to the Lord." On the second day after lie left 
 the cottage in the wilderness, he arrived safely at 
 home, having been at no expense on the way. 
 The Lord has the control of all events. The 
 hearts of all men are in his hands. It was He 
 who inclined the hearts of the people to be kind 
 and hospitable to his servant, and to ask no pay 
 for what they gave him. 
 
 About a year and a half after this, a stranger 
 called at Mr. M.'s house, and asked for some 
 refreshment. In the course of their conversation, 
 Mr. M. asked the stranger whether the people 
 in those parts where he lived paid much atten- 
 tion to religion. 
 
 " Not much," he replied ; " but in a town 
 twenty or thirty miles distant, there has been a 
 powerful revival. The commencement of it was 
 very extraordinary. The first person that was 
 awakened and brougnt to repentance, was a poor 
 woman, who lived in a very retired place. She 
 told her friends and neighbors that a stranger 
 was driven into her house by a thunder storm, 
 and talked to her so seriously, that she began, 
 while listening to his discourse to feel concerned
 
 44 THE LOAN REPAID. 
 
 about her soul. The gentleman was much affect- 
 ed, when he found she had no Bible ; and after 
 he had left the house to go on his journey, return- 
 ed again, and gave her a dollar to buy one ; and 
 charged her to get it soon, and read it diligently. 
 She did so ; and it had been the means, as she 
 believed, of her salvation. The neighbors won- 
 dered at this ; and it was the means of awaken- 
 ing them to a deep concern for the salvation of 
 their souls. As many as thirty or forty are re- 
 joicing in God their Savior." Mr. M. who had 
 listened to this narrative, with his heart swelling 
 more and more with wonder, gratitude, and joy, 
 could refrain no longer ; but with hands and eyes 
 raised to heaven, exclaimed, " My God, thou hast 
 paid me again ! " 
 
 When we lend to the Lord, he always pays us 
 with " good measure, pressed down and running 
 over." 
 
 An Indian story. 
 
 In the early settlement? of this country a 
 strange Indian arrived at an inn in Litchfield, 
 Connecticut, and asked for something to eat; at 
 the same time saying that, as he had been unsuc- 
 cessful in hunting, he had nothing to pay. The 
 woman who kept the inn, not only refused his
 
 AN INDIAN S GRATITUDE. 45 
 
 reasonable request, but called him hard names. 
 But a man who sat by, seeing that the Indian 
 was suffering for want of food, told her to give 
 him what he wanted at his expense. When the 
 Indian had finished his supper, lie thanked the 
 man, and assured him that he should be faithfully 
 recompensed, whenever it was in his power. 
 
 Some years after this, the man had occasion to 
 go from Litchfield to -Albany, where he was taken 
 prisoner by the Indians, and carried to Canada. 
 Some of them proposed that he should be put to 
 death ; but an old woman demanded that he 
 should be given to her, that she might adopt him 
 in place of a son, who had been killed in the war. 
 This was done, and he passed the winter in her 
 family. The next summer, while he was at work 
 alone in the woods, a strange Indian came and 
 asked him to go to a certain place on a given 
 day. which he agreed to do ; though he had some 
 fears that mischief was intended. His fears in- 
 creased, and his promise was broken. But the 
 Indian came again and renewed the request. The 
 man made another engagement, and kept his 
 word. On reaching the spot, he found the Indian 
 provided with ammunition, two muskets, and 
 two knapsacks. He was ordered to take one of 
 each; which he did, and followed his conductor. 
 In the day time, they shot the game that came in
 
 46 an Indian's gratitude. 
 
 their way, and at night, they kindled a fire and 
 slept by it. But the Indian observed a mysteri- 
 ous silence as to the object of their expedition. 
 After travelling in this manner many days, they 
 came to the top of a mountain, from which they 
 saw a number of houses in the midst of a culti- 
 vated country. The Indian asked him if he 
 knew the ground, and he eagerly answered, " It is 
 Litchfield?" The Indian then recalled to his 
 mind the scene at the inn, and bidding him fare- 
 well, exclaimed, " / am that Indian ! Now I 
 pray you go home." 
 
 Example of Disinterested Benevolence. 
 
 A traveller in Asia Minor, in a time of dis- 
 tressing drought, found a vase of water un- 
 der a little shed by the road-side, for the re- 
 freshment of the weary traveller. A man in 
 the neighborhood was in the habit of bringing 
 the water from a considerable distance, and filling 
 the vase every morning, and then going to his 
 work. He could have had no motive to do this, 
 but a kind regard to the comfort of weary travel- 
 lers, for he was never there to receive their 
 thanks, much less their money. This was benev- 
 olence.
 
 47 
 
 Section IV. — Manners. 
 
 POLITENESS. 
 
 EV. Dr. Witherspoon, Presi- 
 dent of New-Jersey College, 
 once gave out Politeness, to a 
 division of one of his classes, as 
 a subject for composition. The 
 young gentlemen were delight- 
 ed with it ; and when the time 
 came for reading, some of them 
 expatiated upon it largely, learned- 
 ly, and politely. After they had 
 all read, they waited for the Presi- 
 yffi&grs dent to sum up their observations, 
 3fe and then state his own views. But, he 
 
 :^ told them, he should only give them a 
 ■4§k" a snort definition, which they might al- 
 ways remember. " Politeness," said 
 
 he, "IS REAL KINDNESS, KINDLY EXPRESSED." 
 
 This is the sum and substance of all true polite- 
 ness ; and if my readers will put it in practice, 
 they will be surprised to see how every body will 
 be charmed with their manners.
 
 48 A CHARACTER. 
 
 Good Breeding. 
 
 Gasskndi was a youth of such extraordinary 
 abilities and attainments as to command univer- 
 sal admiration ; but in his manners he was gen- 
 erally silent, never ostentatiously obtruding upon 
 others his own knowledge. He was never in a 
 hurry to give his opinion before he knew that of 
 the persons who were conversing with him. He 
 was never fond of displaying himself. 
 
 I knew a young man whose behavior was di- 
 rectly the opposite of Gassendi's : a compound 
 of ignorance, self-conceit, and impudence. He 
 was forward to talk in all companies. His opin- 
 ion, on all subjects, was cheap — a gift that went 
 a-begging. He could tell the farmer how to till 
 the soil ; the mechanic how to use his tools ; the 
 merchant, how to make his gains ; the doctor, 
 how to cure his patient; the minister, how to 
 preach ; and the cook, how to bake her bread. 
 He wanted only a pair of long ears to complete 
 his character.
 
 49 
 
 Section V. — Overcome Evil with Good. 
 A BLACK BOV 
 
 OME boys are mean enough 
 to ridicule others for natural 
 defects, for which they are not 
 to blame ; and k is a \evv com- 
 mon thing to consider the color 
 of the skin as a mark of infe- 
 riority. But even if it were so, 
 it would be no ground of re- 
 proach, for it is the color which 
 God gave. Mr. Southey, the poet, 
 relates that, when he was a small 
 boy, there was a black hoy in the 
 jhborhood, who was called Jim Dick. 
 Southey and a number of his play fel- 
 lows, as they were collected together 
 one evening at their sports, began to tor- 
 ment the poor black boy, calling him •' nigger" 
 "blackamoor" and other nicknames. The poor 
 fellow was very much grieved, and soon left them. 
 Soon after, these boys had an appointment to go 
 a skating, and on that day Southey broke his 
 5
 
 50 GOOD FOR EVIL. 
 
 skates. After all his rude treatment of poor 
 Jim, he \a as mean enough to go and ask him to 
 lend his skates. " Oyes, John," Jim replied, " you 
 may have them and welcome." When he went to 
 return them, he found Jim sitting in the kitchen 
 reading his Bible. As Southey handed Dick his 
 6kates, the latter looked at him with tears in hi; 
 eyes, and said, "John, don't ever call me black 
 amoor again," and immediately left the room 
 Southey burst into tears, and from that time re 
 solved never again to abuse a poor black — a 
 resolution which I hope every one of my readers 
 will make and never break. But, if you will fol- 
 low the example of this poor colored boy, and 
 return good for evil, you will always find it the 
 best retaliation you can make for an injury. 
 
 The converted soldier. 
 
 A soldier in the East Indies, a stout, lion-look- 
 ing, lion-hearted man, had been a noted prize- 
 fighter, and a terror to those who knew him. 
 With one blow he could level a strong man to 
 the ground. That man sauntered into the mis- 
 sion chapel, heard the gospel, and was alarmed. 
 He returned again and again, and at last, light 
 broke in upon his mind, and he became a new crea- 
 ture. The change in his character was marked
 
 GOOD FOR EVIL. 51 
 
 and decided. The lion was changed into a lamb. 
 Two months afterwards, in the mess-room, some 
 of those who had been afraid of him before began 
 ' to ridicule him. One of them said, " I '11 put it to 
 the test whether he is a Christian or not ;" and tak- 
 ing a basin of hot soup, he threw it into his bosom. 
 The whole company gazed in breathless silence, 
 expecting that the lion would start up, and 
 murder him on the spot. But after he had 
 torn open his waistcoat, and wiped his scalded 
 breast, he calmly turned round and said, " This 
 is what I must expect : If I become a Christian, 
 I must suffer persecution." His comrades were 
 filled with astonishment. This was overcoming 
 
 o 
 
 evil with good. If the reader will follow this 
 man's example, he will save himself a world of 
 difficulty. 
 
 The forgiving school boy. 
 » 
 In a school in Ireland, one boy struck another ; 
 
 and when he was about to be punished, the injured 
 boy earnestly begged for his pardon. The master 
 inquired why he wished to prevent so deserved a 
 punishment ; to which he replied, that he had 
 read in the Xew-Testament that Jesus Christ said 
 we should forgive our enemies ; and I forgive him, 
 and beg he may not be punished for my sake."
 
 52 
 
 Section VI. — Use of the Tongue. 
 
 ADVANTAGES OF SPEAKING THE 
 TRUTH. 
 
 T is a great advantage to any 
 one to have the confidence 
 of others, so far that his 
 word will always be taken for 
 the exact truth. This confi- 
 dence is to be acquired only 
 by always speaking the truth ; 
 and especially, by adhering so 
 closely to the fact that people will 
 not only believe that we mean to 
 speak the truth, but that they will 
 feel confident that we have neither 
 mistaken the facts, nor added any color- 
 ing, nor kept back any thing, to make it 
 appear different from the reality. The 
 following story shows how great an ad- 
 vantage one may derive from having this confi- 
 dence in his strict veracity established: 
 
 Petrarch, the celebrated Italian poet, by his 
 strict regard for truth, secured the unbounded 
 confidence of Cardinal Colonna, in whose family
 
 SPEAKING TRUTH. 53 
 
 he resided. A violent quarrel broke out among 
 the Cardinal's numerous family of servants, 
 which ended in a fight. The Cardinal, in order 
 to investigate the affair, and punish the offenders, 
 assembled all his people and put them under oath 
 to tell the whole truth. Every one took the oath, 
 not excepting the bishop of Luna, the Cardinal's 
 own brother. Petrarch, in his turn, presented 
 himself, but the Cardinal closed the book, saying, 
 "As to you, Petrarch, your word is sufficient." 
 Our readers will perceive how great an advan 
 tage it will be to them to have always such a 
 strict regard to the exact truth, that their word 
 will be considered as good as an oath. 
 
 Remember the bright side. 
 
 When Peter the Great heard any one speak 
 ing ill of another, he would inquire, " Is there 
 not a fair side, also, to the character of the per- 
 son of whom you are speaking ? Come, tell me 
 what good qualities you have remarked about 
 him." If, in speaking of others, we should look 
 always at the fair side, and see what good things 
 we can say of them, it would make us feel bet- 
 ter towards them; it would be doing them a ser- 
 vice instead of an injury ; it would tend to make 
 peace, rather than foment strife.
 
 54 
 
 Section VII. — Punctuality. 
 EXAMPLE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 ^w*^>u^^v^ i^. HEN Washington appointed 
 A the hour of twelve to meet 
 Congress, he never failed to 
 be passing the door of the 
 hall while the clock was 
 striking twelve. His din- 
 ner hour was four o'clock. 
 If his guests were not there 
 at the time, he never waited for 
 them. New members of Congress, 
 who were invited to dine with him, 
 would frequently come in when 
 dinner was half over; and he would 
 say to them, " Gentlemen, we are punc- 
 tual here. My cook never asks whether 
 the company has arrived, but whether 
 the hour has." In 1799, when on a visit to Bos- 
 ton, he appointed eight o'clock in the morning as 
 the hour when he would set out for Salem. 
 While the Old South clock w r as striking eight, he 
 was mounting his horse. The company of cav-
 
 SAMUEL WESLEY. 00 
 
 airy, who had volunteered to escort him, was pa- 
 rading in Tremont street, and did not overtake 
 him till he had reached Charles River Bridge. 
 On their arrival, the General said, " Major, I 
 thought you had been too long in my family not 
 to know when it -was eisrht o'clock." 
 
 Samuel Wesley, Esq. 
 
 Samuel Wesley, Esq., was one of the greatest 
 musicians of his age. His musical powers were 
 developed while he was a child, and excited the 
 greatest admiration. But he was as great a lover 
 of regular habits as of song. No company or 
 persuasion could keep him up beyond his regular 
 time for going to bed. For this reason, he could 
 seldom be persuaded to go to a concert in the 
 night. The moment the clock struck eight, away 
 ran Samuel, in the midst of his most favorite 
 amusement. Once he rose up from the first part 
 of the Jlessiah, saying, " Come, mamma, let us 
 go home, or I shan't be in bed by eight." When 
 some friends talked of carrying him to the queen, 
 and his father asked him if he was willing to go, 
 he replied, " Yes, with all my heart ; but I won't 
 stay beyond eight." This was a wise resolution ; 
 for children are sadly injured, by being kept up 
 late at night.
 
 56 PUNCTUALITY. 
 
 Five minutes too late. 
 
 The following amusing sketch, though perhaps 
 fictitious, gives a pretty faithful picture of many 
 a man's life : 
 
 " When a child, I was scolded for being too late 
 at school ; when a boy, I was cuffed and kicked 
 for being too late at my work ; and when a man, 
 I was turned aw r ay for being behind my time on 
 a particular occasion when my services w r ere 
 wanted. 
 
 " My uncle Jonathan was well to do in the world, 
 and as his nephew's w r ere his nearest relations, we 
 had reason to expect that his property would 
 come among us. He had, however, one peculiar- 
 ity, w r hich effectually shut his door against me. 
 He never was five minutes too late in an appoint- 
 ment in his life, and thought most contemptuously 
 of those w T ho w T ere. I really believe that I was 
 a bit of a favorite with him until my unfortunate 
 failing justly offended him. 
 
 " He had occasion to go a journey, and I was 
 directed to be with him at seven in the morning, 
 to carry his portmanteau to the coach. Alas ! I 
 was " Five minutes too late," and he had left the 
 house.
 
 FIVE MINUTES TOO LATE. 57 
 
 " Knowing his particularity, I hurried after him, 
 and running till I could scarcely stand, arrived at 
 one end of the street just in time to see the coach 
 go off with my uncle at the other. Dearly did I 
 pay for being " Five minutes too late." 
 
 " My Uncle did not return for a month, and cer- 
 tainly showed more forbearance toward me than 
 he was ever known to do on a similar occasion ; 
 for in a letter he stated, that if I could be punc- 
 tual, he should wish me to meet him on his return, 
 to take charge of his portmanteau, and thereby 
 make some amends for my misconduct. Off I 
 set, but knowing that coaches frequently arrive a 
 quarter of an hour after their set time, I thought 
 a minute or two could be of no consequence. 
 The coach unfortunately, was " horridly exact," 
 and once more I was after my time, just " Five 
 minutes too late." 
 
 " My Uncle Jonathan never forgave me, fully 
 believing that I had done it on purpose to get rid 
 of the trouble of carrying his portmanteau. 
 Years rolled away, and I was not so much as 
 permitted to enter the door of my Uncle Jona- 
 than. 
 
 " Time, however, heals many a sore, and while 
 it ruffles many a smooth brow, smooths many a 
 ruffled temper. My Uncle Jonathan so far re- 
 lented, that Avhen about to make his will, he sent
 
 58 FIVE MINUTES TOO LATE. 
 
 to me to call upon him exactly at ten o'clock. 
 Determined to be in time, I set off, allowing my- 
 self some minutes to spare and pulling out my 
 watch at the door, found that for once in mj life 
 I had kept my appointment to the second. The 
 servant, to my surprise, told me, that my Uncle 
 Jonathan had ordered the door to be shut in my 
 face for being behind my time. It was then I 
 found out my watch was too slow T , and that I was 
 exactly " Five minutes too late." 
 
 "Had I been earlier on that occasion I might 
 have been provided for, but now I am a poor 
 man, and a poor man I am likely to remain. 
 However, good may arise from my giving this 
 short account of my foolish habit, as it may pos- 
 sibly convince some of the value of punctuality, 
 and dispose them to avoid the manifold evils of 
 being " Five minutes too late." 
 
 Few young persons are sensible of the impor- 
 tance of punctuality, because they are not aware 
 of the value of time. But time is money ; and 
 to rob a man of his time, by obliging him to wait 
 beyond the appointed hour to meet your engage- 
 ment with him, is equivalent to robbing him of 
 so much money as he could have earned in the 
 lost time. The habit of punctuality must be 
 acquired early. Be punctual in the family and 
 school, and you will be a punctual man.
 
 Section Vlll. — Contention, 
 
 DANGER OF CONTENTION 
 
 ^- ■-...■•/ H-> m C( 
 
 ■*B ?■ 
 
 UARRELLIXG generally 
 arises from selfishness and an- 
 ger. Selfishness is grasping. 
 It respects not the rights of 
 others. It will yield none of 
 its own. The selfish person is 
 efore continually coming 
 conflict with others ; and, as 
 impediments are thrown in the 
 ■'■ II s*YJ J way of his gratification, his pas- 
 «J sions are roused. Anger is a spe- 
 cies of insanity. When one yields 
 to his passions, he loses self-control. 
 He takes an enemy into his bosom, and 
 suffers himself to be nosed about by him 
 at will. No one can tell what dreadful 
 thing he may do when once he giyes a loose rein 
 to his passions. 
 
 "The beginning of strife is as the letting out 
 of waters." When you open a little drain to a 
 pond of water, it runs slowly at first, in a very
 
 GO CONTENTION. 
 
 small stream ; but the body of water above rushes 
 into the channel and wears it deeper, and that 
 increases the pressure and widens it still more, 
 till presently the whole body comes pouring forth 
 in an irresistible torrent. One dry season, in 
 the summer, a man in Vermont, who owned a 
 mill, on a small stream near a large pond, found 
 his water failing, so that his mill was likely to 
 stop. To prevent this, he collected together a 
 few of the neighbors, and dug a little trench from 
 the pond to the stream that carried his mill. At 
 first it ran very slowly and quietly along, till it 
 began to wear away the channel, and to turn the 
 force of the body of water in the pond in that 
 direction, when it increased violently, tore away 
 the banks, and poured the whole contents of the 
 pond into the little stream, carried off the mill, 
 and rushed on with impetuous fury through the 
 valley, sweeping away fences, bridges, barns, 
 houses, and every thing that came in its way. 
 
 At a place called Brag Corner, in the State of 
 Maine, a small stream falls into the Sandy river, 
 on which a superior grist-mill was erected a few 
 years since. The stream not affording water 
 enough, a pond containing fifty or one hundred 
 acres, having no outlet, and lying two hundred 
 feet above the level where the mill stood, was 
 connected with the stream that carried the mill
 
 CONTENTION. 61 
 
 by an artificial canal. The water of the pond 
 began to gully away the gravel over which it 
 was made to run, and having formed a regular 
 channel, defied all human control, and, in the .-pace 
 of six hours, cut a ravine seventy feet deep, and 
 let out the whole pond, sweeping away the mill, 
 foundation and all, and carrying away a house 
 and blacksmith's shop, which stood near, not giving 
 the owner time to save any thing of consequence 
 from his house. 
 
 Such, Solomon says, is strife. When you be- 
 gin to quarrel, you know not where it will end. 
 It not unfrequently terminates in the death of one 
 of the parties, as in the following case : A boy 
 about eleven years of age, son of Mr. Philip 
 Petty, of Westport, R. I., took his father's gun, 
 as he said, to go a gunning. His elder brother 
 attempted to take it from him. A quarrel en- 
 sued, between the two brothers, and in the course 
 of the scuffle, the gun went off and lodged the con- 
 tents in the younger one's bowels. He lingered 
 a few hours in great agony and died. How 
 must the other one feel, to think that the quarrel, 
 which he began, led to the death of his brother. 
 How much safer to take Solomon's advice, and 
 u leave off contention before it be meddled with."
 
 62 ANGER. 
 
 Danger of Indulging anger. 
 
 Frederick Jones was the son of a rich manu- 
 facturer. His father being engrossed in busi- 
 ness, the children were left to the care of their 
 mother, who, being a weak woman, did not re- 
 strain them as she ought. There were four, but 
 three of them died ; and Frederick being left the 
 only child, was indulged still more. At a very 
 early age he showed his angry temper ; and he 
 became such a little tyrant that the very dogs 
 and cats about the house were afraid of him. 
 Once, when he was three years old, he insisted 
 that he would have the silver tea-urn, to drag 
 about the room by a string for his coach. And, 
 because his mother refused to let him do so, he 
 seized her cap and tore it from her head. 
 
 When Frederick was ten years old, he went 
 into the kitchen, where the servants used to let 
 him do as he pleased for fear of his dreadful tem- 
 per; for they called him " Mamma's pet lion" 
 He had not been long there before he upset the 
 table, knocked down the shovel and tongs, and 
 broke several plates. Not satisfied with this, he 
 collected all the tin things in the middle of the 
 floor, and began battering them with the tongs.
 
 EFFECTS OF ANGER. 63 
 
 The cook, not being very well pleased with this 
 destruction, undertook to lead him out of the 
 kitchen. But the little fury, by shrieking and 
 scratching, got free, and seizing a fork, he threw 
 it at the cook, which struck her in the eye and put 
 it out. Thus, by the foolish anger of this little 
 boy, a poor woman lost the sight of her eye en- 
 tirely. This shows the danger of indulging angry 
 passions ; for no one knows what a dreadful deed 
 he may commit in a fit of anger. It shows also 
 the danger of throwing things at others. It is a 
 very dangerous practice, and sometimes leads to 
 the loss of life. 
 
 A little while after this, Frederick was playing 
 at the front door of the house, when a boy passing 
 on the other side of the street, called out, " Hallo, 
 Master Fred., have you put any more people's 
 eyes out lately ? " This was enough to make 
 him angry. He immediately picked up a large 
 stone, and chasing the boy some distance, threw 
 it at him with all his might. The boy was out 
 of the way of the stone, but it struck a large 
 bull-dog, which, naturally enough, concluded that 
 he was unjustly attacked, and turning upon Fred- 
 erick, gave him a severe bite in the leg, and toss- 
 ed him into the gutter. Frederick roared aloud 
 with pain and rage, and had to be carried home 
 to his bed, where he lay for several weeks. But
 
 64 FREDERICK. 
 
 nobody pitied him. The people who heard of it, 
 knowing his temper, thought the dog had done a 
 praiseworthy act. 
 
 After this, Frederick's father sent him to a 
 boarding school, about twenty miles from home, to 
 a very strict master. Here he was in continual 
 broils with his school-fellows. There was scarce- 
 ly a boy in the school with whom he did not have 
 a fight. But generally he came off with a bleed- 
 ing nose or a black eye, because his passions took 
 away his strength, and the other boys were an 
 overmatch for him. His school-mates generally 
 did not like to fight ; but this angry boy would 
 fly at them for the most trifling thing, and force 
 them to defend themselves. 
 
 Frederick's father died before he was twenty 
 years of age ; and as he loved amusement better 
 than business, he sold the manufactory, and trav- 
 elled in Europe ; where he was very dissipated, 
 and fought two duels, in both of which he was 
 wounded. During his absence, his mother had 
 become a good woman; and on his return, he 
 found her company disagreeable. She entreated 
 him to break off his e^l courses. But this only 
 made him angry. To get rid of her reproofs, he 
 left her and went to one of the Western States. 
 There, while he was engaged at a public house, 
 with some of his wicked companions, talking
 
 END OF A BAD TEMPER. 65 
 
 politics, one of them called him a liar, and he 
 drew out his dirk and stabbed him to tha heart. 
 He ran away from the place, but the image of 
 the murdered man haunted him day and night, 
 and made him wretched. He gave himself up to 
 intoxication, and at the age of twenty-three years, 
 fell into a drunkard's grave, some time after his 
 mother had died of a broken heart on his ac- 
 count. All this came upon Frederick, in conse- 
 quence of not restraining his passions while ia 
 boy. His violent, ungovernable temper might 
 have been subdued, when he was a child ; but by 
 indulgence it increased in strength, till it became 
 perfectly unmanageable. 
 
 Be kind to your sister. 
 
 The following affecting story, which is given 
 in the language of the brother himself, will ad- 
 monish every boy who reads it, to be kind to his 
 sisters, and especially to avoid blows on the head, 
 as it is probable the blow given this little girl by 
 her brother was the cause of her death. What 
 a shame for a brother to strike his sister ! 
 
 " One morning in my early life, I remember to 
 
 have been playing with my younger sister, not 
 
 then three years old. It was one of those bright 
 
 mornings in spring, that bring joy and life to the 
 
 6*
 
 66 BE KIND TO TOUR SISTER. 
 
 heart, and diffuse gladness and animation through 
 all the* tribes of living creatures. Our feelings 
 were in perfect harmony with the universal glad- 
 ness of nature. Even now I seem to hear the 
 merry laugh of my little sister, as she followed 
 me through the winding alleys of the garden, her 
 cheek suffused with the glow of health and anima- 
 tion, and her waving hair floating in the wind. 
 
 " She was an only sister, the sole companion 
 of all my childish sports. We were constantly 
 together ; and my young heart went out to hers, 
 with all the affection, all the fondness, of which 
 childhood is capable. Nothing afforded me en- 
 joyment in which she did not participate ; no 
 amusement was sought which we could not share 
 together. 
 
 " That morning we had prolonged our play till 
 near the hour of breakfast, with undiminished 
 ardor, when at some slight provocation, my im- 
 petuous nature broke forth, and in my anger, I 
 struck my little sister a blow with my hand. She 
 turned to me with an appealing look, and the 
 large tears came into her eyes. Her heart was 
 too full to allow her to speak, and shame made 
 me silent. At that moment the breakfast bell 
 summoned us away, and we returned to the house 
 without exchanging a word. The excitement of 
 play was over, and as she sat beside my mother
 
 BE KIND TO YOUR SISTER. 67 
 
 at breakfast, I perceived by occasional stolen 
 glances at her that she was pale and sad. A tear 
 seemed ready to start in her eye, which her little 
 self-possession could scarcely repress. It was 
 only when my mother inquired if she was ill, 
 that she endeavored to eat. I was ashamed and 
 grieved, and inwardly resolved to embrace the 
 first opportunity when we were alone, to throw 
 my arms round her neck and entreat her forgive- 
 ness. 
 
 " When breakfast was ended, my mother retired 
 with her into her own room, directing me in the 
 meantime to sit down to my lesson. I seated 
 myself by the window, and ran over my lesson, 
 but did not learn it. My thoughts were perpet- 
 ually recurring to the scene in the garden and at 
 table. It was long before my mother returned, 
 and when she did, it was with an agitated look, 
 and hurried step, to tell me that my poor Ellen 
 was very ill. I asked eagerly if I might go to 
 her, but was not permitted, lest I should disturb 
 her. A physician was called and every means 
 used for her recovery, but to no purpose. The 
 disease, which was in her head, constantly in- 
 creased in violence, and she became delirious. 
 It was not until evening that I was permitted to 
 see her. She was a little recovered from the 
 severity of her pain, and lay with her eyes closed,
 
 68 BE KIND TO TOUR SISTER. 
 
 and her little hand resting on the pillow beneath 
 her head. How I longed to tell her the sorrow 
 I felt for my unkindness to her in the morning 
 and how much I had suffered for it during the day. 
 But I was forbidden to speak to her, and was soon 
 taken out of the room. During that night and 
 the day following, she continued to grow worse. 
 I saw her several times, but she was always 
 insensible of my presence. Once indeed, she 
 showed some signs of consciousness, and asked 
 for me ; but immediately relapsed into her former 
 state. 
 
 " On the morning of the third day, I rose at 
 an early hour, and repaired to the sick room. 
 My mother was sitting by the bed. As I entered, 
 she drew me to her, and for some time was silent, 
 while the tears flowed fast down her face. I first 
 learned that my sweet sister was dead, as my 
 mother drew aside the curtain that concealed her 
 from me. I felt as though my heart would break. 
 The remembrance of her affection for me, and 
 my last unkind deed, revived in my mind ; and 
 burying my face in the folds of the curtain, I wept 
 long and bitterly. 
 
 " I saw her laid in the coffin, and lowered into 
 the grave. I almost wished to lie down there 
 with her, if so I might see once more her smile 
 and hear my forgiveness in her sweet voice.
 
 TEAZING. 69 
 
 " Years have passed away and I am now a 
 man — but never does the recollection of this 
 incident of my early life fail to awaken bitter 
 feelings of grief and remorse. And never do I 
 6ee my young friends exchanging looks or words 
 of anger, without thinking of my last pastime 
 with my own loved Ellen." 
 
 Teazing and being teazed. 
 
 Some children take great delight in teazing. 
 The way to avoid such annoyances is, to take no 
 notice of them. Respect yourself too much to 
 be disturbed by those who disregard the common 
 courtesies of life. If they find they cannot teaze 
 you, they will cease to make the attempt. The 
 late Dr. Bowditch (a man who attained to great 
 eminence, as a man of learning and science), was 
 the son of a poor sailor. His parents were so 
 poor that he was obliged to wear his summer 
 clothes to school, during the whole winter. His 
 schoolmates would sometimes laugh at him, be- 
 cause he wore such thin clothes. But they could 
 never make him angry, or disturb his equanimity. 
 All the notice he took of their jeers was, to laugh 
 at them for thinking that he was unable to bear 
 the cold. If you follow his example, you will 
 never suffer much from being teazed.
 
 70 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 BAD COMPANY AND BAD HABITS. 
 
 you remember what Solo- 
 mon says about bad company ? 
 " Enter not into the path of 
 the wicked, and go not in the 
 way of evil men. For they 
 sleep not except they have 
 done mischief; and their sleep 
 is taken away, unless they 
 cause some to fall." 
 
 Mr. Green, the Reformed Gam- 
 bler, relates that, at the age of six- 
 teen, he was laboring industriously, 
 in the city of Cincinnati, and saving his 
 wages. But he became acquainted with 
 a bad set of boys, who visited a ten-pin 
 alley. In his leisure hours, instead of 
 spending his time in reading and treasuring up 
 useful knowledge, he would frequent this den of 
 iniquity ; and Sabbath days, instead of going to 
 meeting, he would go with the same set of boys 
 to a place of amusement and sin, a little way out
 
 BAD COMPANY. 71 
 
 of the city. In a short time, this evil company 
 had erased every tender affection from his bosom. 
 On one of these misspent Sabbaths, he fell in with 
 a rough set of lawless boys, and got into a fight 
 with them, and was seen thus engaged by the 
 city marshal. 
 
 The next morning, a stranger, whom he met 
 at his boarding house, inquired of him respecting 
 the different places of amusement in the city, and 
 he took him to the ten-pin alley, where he was in 
 the habit of going. While they were there, en- 
 gaged in bowling, a man came staggering in, to 
 all appearance, half drunk. He pulled out three 
 thimbles, and tried to find some one to play with 
 him for drink. This is a swindler's game, through 
 which he picks the pockets of fools, by persuad- 
 ing them to bet that they can tell under which of 
 three thimbles he places a ball. It is all a cheat. 
 The landlord played and won, and the man ap- 
 peared very angry; but this was only a bait, to 
 blind the eyes of the young men, and induce thero 
 to bet. They were caught ; and they lost what 
 money they had, Mr. Green two dollars, and the 
 stranger, twenty-five. They tried in vain to get 
 back their money. At length, the man who was 
 with Green went to the Mayor's office, and re- 
 lated the story ; and the city marshal, having seen 
 Green the day before engaged in a fight, suspect-
 
 72 BETTING. 
 
 ed that he was leagued with the gamblers, and 
 had him arrested ; and though no proof was 
 brought against him, he was lined and sent to jail. 
 There he was kept for several months, in com- 
 pany with counterfeiters, murderers, highway- 
 men, and gamblers, w r hose principal amusement 
 v^as card-playing ; when he was discharged pen- 
 niless, in rags, and with a bad character. This 
 was the commencement of his career of vice, his 
 reformation from which is the next thing to a 
 miracle. All this came upon him in consequence 
 of keeping bad company. Learn from it to avoid 
 evil company and betting. The boy that suffers 
 himself to bet the smallest amount, has already 
 entered the downhill road of the gambler's career. 
 And there is no evil that can be named but he 
 may be drawn into, who begins to keep bad com- 
 pany. You might as well expect to go into a 
 lazarhouse, without being infected, as to go into 
 bad company, and not fall into evil habits. 
 
 Prof an eness. 
 
 Perhaps there is no bad company to which boys 
 are more exposed than the profane ; and none 
 which is more corrupting. Young people insen- 
 sibly fall into the habits of those with whom they 
 associate. If they hear them interlard their con-
 
 PROFANENESS. 73 
 
 versation with by-words and oaths, they will be 
 strongly tempted to do the same. They will be- 
 gin, perhaps, with by-words and little oaths, which 
 show a disposition to be profane, without courage 
 to carry it out. But they will not long stop here. 
 They will soon overcome the chidings of con- 
 science, and then they can be as foul-mouthed as 
 any of their companions. This vice hardens the 
 heart, and prepares it for every other ; for he 
 who despises God will despise man. He who 
 takes the name of God in vain, will not hesitate 
 to break all his commandments. Profaneness is 
 one of the meanest of all vices. It involves 
 every thing that is little and mean. It is treating 
 with the utmost indignity our Greatest Benefac- 
 tor. It is a kind of gratuitous wickedness ; for 
 there is no motive for it but a disposition to do 
 evil. The profane boy is a dangerous companion. 
 He will lead you into you know not what mis- 
 chief and difficulty. The only way is to avoid 
 him, as you would a black snake, or a person that 
 has the small pox. If you go with him, he will, 
 most likely, lead you to ruin. 
 
 Washington's opinion of profaneness. 
 
 • No gentleman will use profane language. It is 
 an outrage upon good manners. No one can be 
 
 7
 
 74 PR0FANENK3S. 
 
 called a gentleman, who is guilty of it. It is a 
 vice that has always been held in detestation by 
 the great and the good. General Washington 
 would never allow it in his army. In 1757, 
 while a colonel, at Fort Cumberland, when he 
 was a young man, he issued an order, expressing 
 his " great displeasure," at the prevalence of 
 profane cursing and swearing, and threatening 
 those who were guilty of it with severe punish- 
 ment. The day after he took the command of 
 the Revolutionary army he issued a similar 
 order. In August, 1776, he issued another order 
 against this vice, in which he speaks of it as " a 
 vice so mean and loiv, without any temptation, 
 that every man of sense and character detests 
 and despises it." He also strictly forbade gam- 
 in" and drunkenness. 
 
 o 
 
 Howards opinion of Swearers. 
 
 Howard, the Philanthropist, standing in the 
 street, heard some dreadful oaths and curses from 
 a public house opposite. Having occasion to go 
 across, he first buttoned up his pocket, saying to^ 
 a by-stander, " I always do this, when I hear 
 men swear, as I think that any one who can take 
 God's name in vain, can also steal, or do any 
 thinsf else that is bad."
 
 AWFUL EXAMPLE. 75 
 
 God lias set a mark upon this vice. He not 
 unfrequently punishes it, by directly answering 
 the prayer that is profanely uttered. J. H. was 
 a notorious swearer. He had a singular habit of 
 calling on God to curse his eyes. After some 
 years, this awful imprecation was verified. He 
 was afflicted with a disease in his eyes, which 
 terminated in total blindness. This so affected 
 his general system, that he gradually sunk under 
 it, and went to give up his account. A number 
 of similar cases, some of them still more awful, 
 you will find in the tract entitled, " The Swearer'a 
 Prayer." 
 
 Playing Truant. 
 
 Playing truant when sent to school, is almost 
 always the means of getting into bad company ; 
 and bad company leads to ruin. A boy thirteen 
 years old, was brought before the police court in 
 Boston, charged with stealing a gold pen from a 
 lawyer's office. He had been in the habit of 
 coming into the offices, in the building, and selling 
 apples. The gentleman from whom he stole the 
 pen had furnished him money to fill his basket ; 
 and he returned his kindness by stealing his pen, 
 which was worth three dollars. His mother ap- 
 peared before the court, and plead earnestly for
 
 76 TLAYING TRUANT. 
 
 her boy, saying that lie was a good boy to her, 
 except that he played truant from school. He 
 then got into the company of a gang of boys. 
 who peddle apples, — a thievish set, — and of 
 them he also learned to steal. He was sent to 
 the House of Reformation ; which is a prison for 
 boys, where they are kept at work and study, but 
 not allowed their liberty. 
 
 Ruin of a Deacon's son. 
 
 Several years ago, a young man about twenty 
 years of age, filthy in his appearance, and shab- 
 bily dressed, called at the house of a clergyman 
 in the city of New York. His countenance, 
 though haggard, bore the marks of intelligence. 
 The young man said he had been at his church 
 the previous evening, and was desirous of having 
 some conversation with the minister. He was 
 requested to open his mind freely. He said he 
 was the son of a deacon of a Congregational 
 church in Connecticut. His father was a man of 
 property and influence, and he himself had al- 
 ways moved in the most respectable society. He 
 had come to New York in order to become ac- 
 quainted with business, and prepare himself for 
 an active and useful life. But he soon found 
 himself surrounded with new temptations, with-
 
 a deacon's SOX. 77 
 
 out the restraining influences of home and friends. 
 He fell into bad company. His vicious asso- 
 ciates led him to the theatre, and when his pas- 
 sions were excited by what he saw, and stimula- 
 ted by intoxicating liquors, he was persuaded to 
 visit places of infamy and crime. These indul- 
 gences called for more money than he could hon- 
 estly obtain ; but his appetites, once excited, 
 could not be easily restrained ; and he had re- 
 course to his employer's money drawer to supply 
 the deficiency. He eased his conscience, in this 
 act, and deceived himself, with the hope of repay 
 ing it before he was detected. But in this he 
 was mistaken. He was detected, tried, found 
 guilty, and sentenced to the penitentiary for six 
 months. He had now been out of prison a 
 week, during which time he had been wan- 
 dering about the city, ashamed to be seen or 
 known. He had come to ask advjce. The 
 clergyman advised hirn by all means to go home 
 to his father ; assuring him that it was his only 
 hope, for if he remained in the city, he would 
 fall into the company of his old associates and be 
 ruined. "With the deepest agony, he exclaimed, 
 " Plow can I ever return to my father's house ? 
 How can I ever meet him or the virtuous com- 
 panions of my youth ? No ! No ! I am fallen — 
 disgraced ! I have been a felon, and in prison I 
 7*
 
 78 END OF BAD COMPANT. 
 
 No, I would rather die a vagabond in the street, 
 than to see the face of my father, or the faces of 
 the young people, who were my associates in the 
 days when I felt myself as good as they." He 
 was yet unhumbled. He was yet unwilling, like 
 the prodigal, to return to his father's house. 
 However, after much persuasion, he promised 
 that the next morning he would set off for home. 
 But he had not the moral courage to fulfil his 
 purpose. He was ashamed to arise and go to his 
 father. He continued to roam about the streets, 
 and was again detected in stealing. 
 
 This anecdote shows not only the danger of 
 bad company, but the peril of young men who 
 go from the country to the city to engage in 
 business. They had better remain at home, 
 unless their principles are firmly established upon 
 the foundation of true religion. There is noth- 
 ing to be* gained in the city that is worth the 
 exposure of morals and character. 
 
 Bad Books. 
 
 Books are company ; and the company of bad 
 books is as dangerous as the company of bad 
 boys or bad men. Goldsmith, who was a novel- 
 writer of some note, writing to his brother about 
 the education of a nephew, says, "Above all
 
 TEMPERANCE. 79 
 
 things never let your nephew touch a novel or a 
 romance? An opinion given in such a manner 
 must have been an honest opinion. And, as he 
 knew the character of novels, and had no nice 
 scruples on the subject of religion, his opinion 
 ouscht to have sreat weight. 
 
 An Example for boys. 
 
 A boy in London, in destitute circumstances, 
 was put out as an apprentice to a mechanic. It 
 is the business of the youngest apprentice to do 
 all the errands and drudgery of the establishment, 
 and frequently of his master's family also. He 
 was often sent by the workmen and older ap- 
 prentices, to procure intoxicating liquors for 
 them ; of which all of them partook, except him- 
 self, because, as they said, it did them good. But 
 because he refused to drink he was made an ob- 
 ject of ridicule among them. They said he had 
 not sufficient manhood to drink rum. But he had 
 sufficient manhood to refuse to drink rum ; and 
 it requires much more to refuse than to drink. 
 
 Nothing can be more false than the idea that it 
 is courageous and manly to fall in with the habits 
 and practices of those with whom we are obliged 
 to associate. It is a sign of cowardice rather 
 than of courage. The sheep is the most timid of
 
 80 TRUE COURAGE. 
 
 animals. But if a man is driving a flock of 
 sheep, and one of them gets frightened and turns 
 out of the way, all the rest will follow, no matter 
 if it is over the railing of a bridge into a river. 
 The boy that drinks or swears or plays truant, or 
 breaks the Sabbath, because his companions do, 
 is as courageous as — a sheep ! 
 
 While the workmen and apprentices were rev- 
 elling over their rum, and insulting and mis- 
 using this boy, he often retired and vented his 
 grief in tears. But a few years changed the as- 
 pect of things. As they grew up, and entered 
 upon the world for themselves, all the older ap- 
 prentices fell into habits of dissipation, and finally 
 sunk into the drunkard's grave. But the little 
 boy, at whose abstinence they used to scoff, grew 
 up a sober and respectable man, engaged in busi- 
 ness for himself, and a few years ago, was worth 
 a hundred thousand dollars, and had in his em- 
 ploy one hundred and ninety men, none of whom 
 used ardent spirits. All this came from his hav- 
 ing courage to say no, to those who held the 
 poisoned cup to his lips. 
 
 Poison. 
 
 A little boy, four years old, wandered from his 
 home,, one day, in the town of Turin, N. Y., to a
 
 POISON. 81 
 
 field where some men were at work. ' There he 
 found a bottle of spirits, of which he drank free- 
 ly. When found, he was lying on the ground, 
 unable to speak. He was carried home to his 
 mother, and the Doctor was sent for ; but he 
 could do nothing for the poor boy. He remain- 
 ed stupid till evening, and then died. The rum 
 had poisoned him. Not a great while before 
 this, his father was drowned in a fit of intoxica- 
 tion. " Touch not, taste not, handle not." 
 
 " Am I to blame, Mother t " 
 
 A lad in Philadelphia, some years ago, joined 
 the Temperance Society. The father and 
 mother, who were what are called moderate 
 drinkers, were displeased with him. The boy 
 said nothing for sometime, but bore patiently the 
 eludings of his mother. At length, he undertook to 
 vindicate his conduct: " Am I too blame, mother? 
 Sister Mary has married a drunken husband, who 
 abuses her every day. Sister Susan's husband 
 was intemperate, and has gone off, and left her,, 
 and you are obliged to take her home, and take 
 care of her children. Brother James comes 
 home drunk almost every night. And because I 
 have joined the cold water company, and you are
 
 S2 TEMPERANCE. 
 
 likely to have one sober person in the family, you 
 are scolding at nie ! Am I to blame ? " 
 
 How it happened. 
 
 There was a young man in college, one of the 
 brightest, who was greatly beloved for his per- 
 sonal attractions, frankness, good nature, and gen- 
 erosity. But he was occasionally found flushed 
 with wine, and then he was turbulent and ungov- 
 ernable. At length, in one of these fits of ex- 
 citement, he committed a misdemeanor for which 
 he was expelled from college. Soon after this, 
 he became very dissipated, abandoned his studies, 
 and finally became a sot. People wondered how 
 such a lovely young man could fall into such 
 ruinous courses. A young lady, conversing about 
 him, said she remembered that, when he was a 
 little boy, just beginning to study Latin, she saw 
 his mother bring him a loaf of cal*e and a glass 
 of wine for a lunch. She then thought that per- 
 haps he would become a drunkard, and so it turn- 
 ed out. Beware of the first glass.
 
 83 
 
 GOING TO THE THEATRE. 
 
 ILLIAAl R. was a young 
 man of good habits — a 
 lovely youth, " the only son 
 of his mother, and she was 
 a widow." He was sent 
 from the country, where he 
 had been brought up, to the 
 city of New York, where 
 he was employed as a clerk. 
 Hearing much of the Theatre, and 
 seeing it puffed in the newspapers, 
 ^S" ^ e thought he would go once, just 
 out of curiosity, to see what was done 
 there. But, he was so fascinated with 
 what he heard and saw there, that he 
 went again ; just as some birds are so 
 charmed with the gaze of the serpent, as to run 
 straight into his mouth ! There William fell into 
 evil company, who enticed him away to the haunts 
 of infamy. Intoxicated with these things, he 
 continued to frequent the theatre until the ex- 
 pense was more than his earnings. He then
 
 * 
 
 84 GOING TO THE THEATRE. 
 
 began to steal money from his employer. He 
 was detected and fled. After some time, his 
 friends, hoping he had learned something from 
 experience, sent him to another city. For a 
 time he seemed to be thoroughly reformed. But 
 evil habits once acquired are not easily overcome. 
 He soon fell into the same round of folly and 
 sin, till he lost his character and his employment, 
 and in his despair, committed suicide ! 
 
 Here, again, my readers will see that Total 
 Abstinence is the only safe rule. This boy's 
 ruin was the consequence of going to the theatre 
 just once. If he had resisted an idle curiosity 
 in the beginning, he would have been saved. 
 There are some things that we ought not to de- 
 sire to see. Among these, are the things that are 
 done at theatres and other places of amusement 
 and pleasure, which abound in cities. It is dan- 
 gerous to look upon them. It is like looking 
 down from a giddy height upon a rapid current 
 of water. It turns the head, the foothold is en- 
 dangered, and the life put in jeopardy. 
 
 The Passion for Gaming. 
 
 The following anecdote shows the strength of 
 this passion, when once it has gained the ascen- 
 dancy :
 
 GAMING. 85 
 
 A colored man employed as a fireman on board 
 a steamboat, between Cincinnati and Now Orleans, 
 lost all Lis money at play with his companions. 
 He then staked his clothing, which he also lost. 
 Having nothing more, he laid down his free papers 
 and staked himself. Losing this time, also, he was 
 actually sold by the winner to a slave dealer. 
 
 What a power must this passion have over a 
 man, when he will play at the hazard of his own 
 liberty, which most men esteem dearer than life ! 
 Young man, if you once contract this habit, you 
 will have no power to restrain it. You will 
 gratify the passion at the hazard of every thing. 
 My mother used to relate an anecdote of some 
 young men, who retired to a garret to play at 
 cards, where they would not be seen. There 
 was an open cask of powder in the room, and they 
 had stuck a lighted candle into the powder, which 
 served the purpose of a candlestick. The man 
 at whose house they were, coming to the loft for 
 some purpose, observed them a few moments 
 before the candle had burned down to the pow- 
 der, and creeping softly so as not to alarm them, 
 snatched away the candle. In a few moments 
 more they would have been blown to atoms. 
 
 The only security against gambling is similar 
 to that against intemperance : Total absti- 
 nence from games of chance. If you never 
 8
 
 Ob GAMING. 
 
 learn any play that can be used in gaming, you 
 will be safe from the snare. But with the know- 
 ledge of such games, you will scarcely escape its 
 seductions. 
 
 Danger of Playing for amusement. 
 
 There was a family, consisting of the father 
 and mother, two sons, and one daughter, who 
 lived in Tennessee. The father and mother used 
 to play cards with the children for amusement. 
 The sons went to college, and the father's busi- 
 ness required him to be much of the time from 
 home. On one occasion, while the sons were at 
 home, during vacation, the father wrote a letter 
 requesting the eldest son to bring him five thou- 
 sand dollars. The youug man was accordingly 
 despatched with the money. He went on board 
 a steamboat, where he met a company of gam- 
 blers, in the garb of gentlemen, who professed to 
 be only playing for amusement. To this he had 
 been accustomed, from his childhood, at his 
 father's house, and thought no harm of it. He 
 was solicited to play, and consented. After play- 
 ing a few moments, they agreed to bet one dollar 
 on the game. He lost, and then doubled his bet, 
 and went on so, till soon he had lost what little 
 money he had about him. He became much ex-
 
 ON FOR GAMING. 87y<\Y.. 
 
 cited, went to his state-room and drew out a large 
 ige of bills, and returned to the table, where 
 fery .soon he had lost twelve hundred dollars. 
 He now came to the place where he was to leave 
 the steamboat and go to his father ; but he was 
 so intoxicated with the excitement of the gaming 
 table, that he went on. He played on, and con- 
 tinued to lose. Several of the more respectable 
 passengers tried to get him away. But the pas- 
 sion for gaming had taken such possession of his 
 heart, that he was held to the spot, till his pack- 
 age of five thousand dollars was all in the hands 
 of three hardened gamblers. Two of them 
 afterwards won from him his watch and his dia- 
 mond breast pin, and left him without money 
 enough to buy a meal of victuals. 
 
 About ten days after he left, his mother receiv- 
 ed a letter from his father, saying that he had 
 heard nothing from him. She immediately took 
 her younger son and went in pursuit of him. 
 But, the only intelligence they could gain con- 
 cerning him was, that he had been ruined by a 
 company of gamblers. The father immediately 
 started for New-Orleans, in search of his son, 
 but hearing nothing from him, he, in despair, took 
 to drinking, and returned, after two years' ab- 
 sence, — '• his frame worn — his cheek pale — his 
 eyes wild and fevered — his lips parched — his 
 
 I
 
 88 A RUINED FAMILY. 
 
 hopes crushed — his very life only the motion of 
 excitement and passion — his very soul shattered 
 — his property mortgaged." In a short time he 
 went again in pursuit of his son, but returned 
 home, heart-broken, and died of delirium tremens, 
 the drunkard's disease. The daughter and the 
 other son, both became maniacs. Thus was a 
 whole family ruined, in consequence of the fool- 
 ish habit of playing cards for amusement. If 
 that young man had never learned to play cards, 
 he would, in all probability, have gone on his 
 way, and reached his father in safety, with the 
 money. And, if he had been firmly principled 
 against playing, his answer, " I never play " would 
 have stopped all solicitation. I travelled on those 
 Western waters, when I was a young man, at a 
 time when gambling was carried on every hour 
 of the day, and almost the live-long night ; and 
 yet I was never solicited to play. And why not, 
 as well as this young man ? Because, (1.) I did 
 not know how to play ; (2.) I felt a great aver- 
 sion to it, and did not hesitate to show it ; and 
 (3.) I made myself known as a religious man. 
 These three things will always be sufficient to 
 defend a young man against the most wily game- 
 sters in the world. 
 
 The case I have related, is only one among 
 hundreds that might be stated, in which the ruin
 
 DEFENCE AGAINST GAMING. 89 
 
 of many a promising young man has been accom- 
 plished, by alluring him to play cards for amuse- 
 ment, and then gradually leading him on to stake 
 first small sums, which he is permitted to win, 
 and then he is persuaded to go on, till he has not 
 a farthing left. There is a set of men, in all 
 parts of the country, who make a business of 
 gambling, and league together to draw in unwary 
 youth and strip them of all they possess, and of 
 more, if they can lay their hands upon money 
 not their own. 
 
 Beware, then, how you excite a passion for 
 gaming, by playing for amusement. I am afraid 
 of all games ; but, especially, all games of chance. 
 I think there is a strong tendency in them all to 
 excite a passion for gaming, which will not be 
 satisfied without something more stimulating than 
 mere amusement. If I see a boy rolling mar- 
 bles, or a young man shuffling cards, I think he 
 is in the high road to ruin. Marbles is a dirty 
 play. It treads on the heels of low company 
 and gambling. We frequently hear boys crying 
 out, with all the braggardism of a practiced gam- 
 bler, "I'll bet " so and so. But all betting is 
 gambling. ''Touch not, taste not, handle 
 not." 
 
 8*
 
 90 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 INDUSTRY, LABOR, & c . 
 
 ZZ$ ^J>^ViARLY discipline, in laborious 
 
 - o^ffsS^ "TjJ anc ^ us eful occupations, is indis- 
 
 * pensable to the formation of a 
 
 good character. If God had 
 
 designed that we should live at 
 
 ease, without exertion, he would 
 
 have furnished every thing to 
 
 our hand, without any effort of 
 
 own. In his holy word he has 
 
 yht us the necessity of helping 
 
 selves, requiring us to labor six 
 
 s for one of rest, and ordaining 
 
 that, " if any would not work, neither 
 
 should he eat." The same lesson he 
 
 taught an untutored Indian, by the voice 
 
 of Nature. 
 
 A lesson from the Birds and Fishes, 
 
 Rev. Mr. Heckewelder, a Moravian Mission- 
 ary, remarked to an Indian, whom he saw busily 
 employed fencing his cornfield, that he must be
 
 INDUSTRY. 91 
 
 very fond of working, as he bad never seen him 
 idling away his time as was common with the 
 Indians. •' My friend," replied the Indian " the 
 fishes in the water, and the birds in the air 
 have taught me to work. When I was a 
 young man, I loitered about, doing nothing, just 
 like the other Indians, who say that working is 
 only for whites and negroes, but that the Indians 
 were made to hunt the deer, and catch the beaver, 
 otter, and other animals. But one day while I 
 was hunting, I came to the banks of the Susque- 
 hannah. and sat down near the water's edge to 
 rest awhile. There I was forcibly struck at see- 
 ing with what industry the sun-fish heaped small 
 stones together to make secure places for their 
 spawn ; and all this labor they did with their 
 mouth and body, without hands. Presently a 
 little bird, not far from me, raised a song, and 
 while I was looking to see the little songster, its 
 mate, with as much grass as it could hold in its 
 bill, passed close by me, and flew into the bush, 
 where I perceived them, both together, busily em- 
 ployed in building their nest, and singing as their 
 work went on. I entirely forgot my hunting, 
 to contemplate the objects that were before me. 
 I saw the birds in the air and the fishes in the wa- 
 ter working diligently and cheerfully, and all this 
 without hands. I thought it was strange, and 1*
 
 92 AN INDIANS'S REFLECTIONS. 
 
 became lost in wonder. I looked at myself, and 
 saw two long arms, provided with hands and fin- 
 gers, and with joints that might be opened and 
 shut at pleasure. I could, when I pleased, 
 take up any thing with these hands, hold it fast, 
 or let it loose, and carry it along with me. When 
 I walked, I observed that I had a strong body, 
 capable of bearing fatigue, and supported by 
 two stout legs, with which I could climb to the 
 top of the highest mountains, and descend at 
 pleasure into the valleys. 
 
 "And is it possible," said I, "that a being so 
 wonderfully formed as I am, was created to live 
 in idleness ; while the birds, which have no hands, 
 and nothing but their little bills to help them, 
 work w T ith cheerfulness, and without being told 
 to do so ? Has then the great Creator given me 
 all these limbs for no purpose ? It cannot be : I 
 will try to go to work. I did so, and went away 
 from the village to a spot of good land, where I 
 built a cabin, enclosed ground, sowed corn, and 
 raised cattle. Ever since that time, I have enjoy- 
 ed a good appetite and sound sleep. While others 
 spend their nights in dancing, and are suffering 
 with hunger, I live in plenty. I keep horses, 
 cows, hogs, and fowls. I am happy. See, my 
 friend, the birds and fishes have brought me to 
 reflection, and taught me to work ! "
 
 now to be iiArpy. 93 
 
 If any of my young friends, who read this 
 book, think it a hardship to work, I hope they 
 will go into the fields, and like this untutored In- 
 dian, learn lessons from the creatures whom God 
 has made. There they will find the little ants 
 busy in rearing their habitation ; the mole in rais- 
 ing his hill ; the birds in building their nests ; and 
 the little busy bee, in sucking honey from every 
 flower. Yet all these little creatures appear 
 happy and contented with their lot. If God 
 made them to be happy, as we suppose he did, 
 why did he not make them to live an idle, inactive 
 life? Evidently because activity is necessary to 
 enjoyment. If you would be happy, then, you 
 must be active. Laziness, or idleness, will cer- 
 tainly make you discontented, wretched, and 
 miserable. 
 
 As I was one day walking in one ot' those 
 beautiful avenues that lead out of the village of 
 Saratoga Springs, my attention was arrested by 
 two of those insects, which children call by the 
 homely name of " grand-father-lo?ig-legs." They 
 were laboriously occupied in rolling a round ball, 
 of the size of a walnut, covered with a glutinous 
 substance, dried hard in the sun. I could not be 
 so cruel as to break it in pieces, to gratify my 
 curiosity ; but I suppose it must have contained 
 some treasure that was dear to them — probably
 
 94 ALL THINGS ACTIVE. 
 
 their eggs. They would labor and tug, with their 
 long arms, to roll it up an ascent ; and if it rolled 
 back again, they would patiently return, and roll 
 it up, showing an example of perseverance well 
 worthy of imitation. 
 
 Thus God has made all things to be active. 
 All nature, animate and inanimate, calls man to 
 labor. If old ocean did not ebb and flow, and 
 roll its waves, it would stagnate, and become so 
 noxious that no animal could live on the face of 
 the earth. If the earth did not pursue its labori- 
 ous course around its axis, one half of its inhabi- 
 tants would be shrouded in perpetual night, while 
 the other half would be scorched to death with 
 the ever-accumulating intensity of the sun's rays. 
 Can you find any thing, in all the vast creation of 
 God, that is idle ? The sluggard, of all God's 
 works, stands alone — idle! He resembles the 
 stagnant pool, whose impure waters, filled with 
 the loathsome creatures, and all manner of tilth, 
 saturate the atmosphere with pestilential vapors, 
 and spread around it disease and death. But, the 
 active, industrious man, resembles the running 
 brook, whose waters are kept limpid and clear 
 by their unceasing flow.
 
 INDUSTRY. 95 
 
 " Business first, and then Pleasure." 
 
 A man who is very rich now, was very poor 
 when he was a boy. When asked how he got 
 his riches, he replied, " My father taught me 
 never to play till all my work for the day was 
 finished, and never to spend money till I had 
 earned it. If I had but half an hour's work to 
 do in a day. I must do that the first thing, and in 
 half an hour. After this was done, I was allowed 
 to play ; and I could then play with much more 
 plea-ure than if I had the thought of an unfin- 
 ished task before my mind. I early formed the 
 habit of doing every thing in its time, and it soon 
 became perfectly easy to do so. It is to this 
 habit that I now owe my prosperity." Let every 
 boy who reads this, go and do likewise, and he 
 will meet a similar reward. 
 
 Industry. 
 
 A gentleman in England had an estate which 
 was worth about a thousand dollars a year. For 
 a while, he kept his farm in his own hands ; but 
 at length, he found himself so much in debt that 
 he was obliged to sell one half of his place, to
 
 OG INDUSTRY. 
 
 pay up. The rest, lie let to a farmer for twenty- 
 one years. Towards the end of that time, the 
 fanner on coming to pay his rent, asked him 
 whether he would sell his farm. The gentleman 
 was surprised that the farmer should be able to 
 make him an offer for his place. " Pray tell me," 
 said he, " how it happens, that, while I could not 
 live upon twice as much land, for which I paid 
 no rent, yon are regularly paying me five hundred 
 dollars a year for your farm, and able in a few 
 years to purchase it ? " " The reason is plain," 
 answered the farmer : " You sat still, and said 
 ' Go' I got up and said, ' Come.'' You lay in 
 bed, and enjoyed your ease. I rose in the morn- 
 ing, and minded my business." 
 
 This anecdote shows the folly of those young 
 men, who set up for gentlemen, and despise labor 
 and useful employment. Though they may begin 
 with a good capital, they will soon run down, if 
 they depend upon others to do their business. If 
 they have nothing, they will certainly gain noth- 
 ing. Laziness, poverty, and rags, will go to 
 gether.
 
 97 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 TRUE GREATNESS. 
 
 True Greatness does not consist in feeling above 
 others. 
 
 OOLS think themselves great, 
 in proportion to the show they 
 can make ; but it would take a 
 great heap of copper coins to 
 make as much value as a very 
 little piece of gold ; and an 
 empty tin kettle will make 
 more sound than a golden ves- 
 sel filled with the choicest delicacies. 
 When Mr. Jefferson was President 
 of the United States, he was passing 
 a stream on horseback, in Virginia, 
 beggar approaching it at the same 
 IfX^L time, asked him to help him over. The 
 President let him get behind him on 
 the horse and ride over. When they had 
 got over, the beggar discovered that he had left 
 his bundle ; and Mr. Jefferson went back again 
 and brought it over. This was true greatness. 
 A man can never be too great to do a kindness to 
 the humblest individual in the world.
 
 98 TRUE GREATNESS. 
 
 True Greatness lies not in being too 'proud to wait 
 on one's self. 
 
 Chief Justice Marshall was in the habit of 
 going to market himself, and carrying home his 
 purchases. Frequently he would be seen re- 
 turning at sunrise, with poultry in one hand and 
 vegetables in the other. On one of these occa- 
 sions, a fashionable young man from the North, 
 who had removed to Richmond, was swearing 
 violently because he could find no one to carry 
 home his turkey. Marshall stepped up, and ask- 
 ing him where he lived, said " That is my way, 
 and I will take it for you." When they came to 
 his house, the young man inquired, " What shall 
 I pay you ? " " O, nothing," said the Chief Jus- 
 tice, " you are welcome, it was on my way, and 
 no trouble." " Who is that polite old gentleman, 
 who brought home my turkey for me ? " inquir- 
 ed the young man of a by-stander. "That," 
 replied he, " is John Marshall, Chief Justice of 
 the United States." " Why did he bring home 
 my turkey?" "To give you a severe repri- 
 mand, and teach you to attend to your own busi- 
 ness," was the reply. True greatness never feels 
 above doing any thing that is useful ; but espe- 
 cially, the truly great man will never feel above
 
 CHANCELLOR KENT. 99 
 
 helping himself. His own independence of char- 
 acter depends on his being able to help himself. 
 Dr. Franklin, when he first established himself 
 in business, in Philadelphia, wheeled home the 
 paper which he purchased for his printing office, 
 upon a wheel-barrow, with his own hands. 
 
 True Greatness does not make a man difficult 
 about his own accommodations. 
 
 At a time when the court was sitting in Buf- 
 falo, N. Y., and all the public houses were full, 
 there came to the principal hotel a starched up 
 little Frenchman, and called for lodgings. He 
 was shown into a small, but well-furnished room, 
 which was the only one in the house that was va- 
 cant. He thought himself insulted; and with 
 much warmth said, " Me gem'man — me no sleep 
 here!" A little while afterwards Chancellor 
 Kent, the highest judicial officer in the state, 
 called for lodgings. The landlord told him he 
 was full, excepting one little room, which he did 
 not like to offer to such a man as he. But the 
 Chancellor wished to see it ; and on being shown 
 into it, said, "0, this will do very well — it is a 
 fine room." "Which do you think was the grea-ter 
 of these two men ? A small mind makes much 
 ado about little things.
 
 100 DR. FRANKLIN. 
 
 True Greatness does not consist in being in the 
 fashion. 
 
 When Dr. Franklin was received at the 
 French Court as American Minister, he felt some 
 scruples of conscience about complying with their 
 fashions of dress. " He hoped," he said to the 
 Minister, " that as he was a very plain man, and rep- 
 resented a plain republican people, the king would 
 indulge his desire to appear in the court in his 
 usual dress. Independent of this, the season of 
 the year," said he, " renders the change from yarn 
 stockings to fine silk somewhat dangerous." The 
 French Minister made him a bow, but said that 
 fashion was too sacred a thing for him to meddle 
 with, but he would do him the honor to mention 
 it to his majesty. The king smiled and returned 
 word that Dr. Franklin was at liberty to appear 
 at court in any dress that he pleased. In spite 
 of that delicate respect for foreigners for which 
 the French are so remarkable, the courtiers could 
 not help staring at first at Dr. Franklin's Quaker 
 dress. But it soon appeared as though he had 
 been introduced upon this splendid theatre only 
 to demonstrate that great genius, like beauty, 
 " needs not the aid of ornament."
 
 101 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 ADVANTAGES OF HONESTY. 
 
 Colbert. 
 
 the world over, and you will 
 find that " honesty is the best 
 policy." Jean Eaptiste Col- 
 bert was born at Rheims, in 
 France, in the year 1617, of 
 poor parents. When a boy, he 
 was apprenticed to M. Certain, 
 a woollen draper. Young Col- 
 bert was very fond of books, and 
 spent his leisure in reading. He 
 had indeed a taste above his station. 
 But his mind was so much on what 
 he read, that he was sometimes absent- 
 minded and forgetful. M. Certain, who 
 thought of nothing but of selling cloth, 
 would ridicule him, and tell him he would never 
 make any thing. One day he sent him and the 
 porter with four rolls of cloth, to the hotel of M. 
 Cenani, a French banker, who wished to buy 
 9*
 
 102 THE MISTAKE. 
 
 hangings for a country house which he had pur- 
 chased. The pieces were marked 1, 2, 3, and 4 ; 
 and as Colbert left the house, M. Certain told 
 him that No. 1 was marked three crowns a yard ; 
 No. 2, six crowns ; No. 3, eight crowns ; and 
 No. 4, fifteeen crowns. The banker selected No. 
 3, and asked the young man how much it was a 
 yard. Colbert replied, "fifteen crowns." The 
 porter grinned, but seeing the mistake was on the 
 side of his master he said nothing. There were 
 thirty yards in the piece, and the money was 
 counted out, four hundred and fifty crowns. 
 
 When Colbert returned, M. Certain said, " you 
 have made no mistake, I hope." " I don't think 
 I have," replied Colbert. " But I think you 
 have," said the porter. "Do you think so, 
 Moline ? Do you think so ? " cried the old man, 
 throwing down the cloth and examining the 
 tickets. " But, indeed, I might have expected 
 this; the little rascal could not do otherwise. 
 But I warn you, if you have made a mistake, 
 you shall go to M. Cenani to ask of him the 
 surplus money ; and if he refuses to give it, you 
 shall pay it out of your wages. No. 3 is want- 
 ing. No. 3 was worth — it was worth six 
 crowns ; no, eight crowns. I am quite puzzled." 
 " Eight crowns ! Eight crowns ! are you sure 
 of that?" cried Colbert. "Perhaps you would
 
 THE CORRECTIONS. 103 
 
 like to make out that it was I who made the 
 mistake. I tell you No. 3, was worth eight 
 crowns. I am half dead with fear. I will lay a 
 wager that he sold it for six." " On the contra- 
 ry," replied Colbert, " stupid creature that I am, 
 I sold it for fifteen." " Fifteen ! Fifteen ! " cried 
 M. Certain. " You are a fine boy, a good boy, 
 Baptiste. You will one day be an honor to all 
 your family. Fifteen ! — I could cry with joy ! 
 Fifteen crowns for a piece of cloth not worth six ! 
 Two hundred and ten crowns profit ! happy 
 day ! " " How," said Colbert, " would you take 
 advantage ? " " 0, perhaps you want to go 
 shares. Certainly I agree to let you have some- 
 thing." 
 
 "I cannot agree to any such thing," said Col- 
 bert. I will go to the gentleman I have treated so 
 badly, and beg of him to excuse me, and return 
 him the money he overpaid me." So saying, 
 he bounded out of the door, leaving his master 
 in a rage of disappointment. In a few moments, 
 he was at the hotel of M. Cenani. It was with 
 great difficulty that he was admitted to his pre- 
 sence, and then he was ordered away. But he 
 persisted in speaking ; and after apologizing for 
 his mistake, he returned the money. The banker 
 asked Hm if he knew that he was no judge of 
 cloth. Colbert assured him that it was not worth
 
 104 AN HONEST BOT. 
 
 more than eight crowns. " And yon might ea nlj 
 have kept this money for yourself/' " I never 
 thought of that, sir," replied the young man. 
 " But, if you had thought of it ? " inquired the 
 banker. " It was quite impossible, sir, that such 
 an idea could come into my head. I should as 
 soon have thought of carrying off all that you 
 have here." " Suppose I should make you a 
 present of this money that you have returned to 
 me with such admirable integrity ? " " What 
 right have I to it ? And why should you give it 
 to me ? I would not take it, sir." " You are a 
 fine fellow and an honest fellow," said the banker, 
 and inquired his name. The conversation was 
 suddenly broke off by the arrival of the banker's 
 carriage. As young Colbert went out, he was 
 seized by the collar, by his enraged master, who 
 abused him in the most frantic manner, and dis- 
 missed him from his service. 
 
 The young man went home ; but his parents 
 were affrighted to see him at that time, fearing 
 some disaster had happened to him. After hear- 
 ing his story, however, they heartily approved his 
 conduct, and rejoiced that they had such a son. 
 
 It was but a little while, however, before M. 
 Cenani arrived, and, praising the nobleness and 
 integrity of the boy, proposed to his parents to 
 take him to Paris and put him in his banking
 
 ADVANTAGE OF BEING HONEST. 105 
 
 house, where he might make a fortune ; which 
 was readily agreed to. Young Colbert soon 
 found himself in a new world. But, denying 
 himself the brilliant attractions with which the 
 city abounded, he gave himself diligently to his 
 business, as clerk in the banking house. His 
 diligence and faithfulness gained for him the 
 esteem of his employers. He soon mastered the 
 business. Xo accounts baffled him. And. on 
 arriving at manhood, he became a thorough 
 financier. The most important duties were now 
 entrusted to him ; and he soon became the travel- 
 ling agent of the bank ; which enabled him also 
 to gratify his taste for the arts and sciences. He 
 made the tour of the French provinces, making 
 commerce his study, and devising means to ren- 
 der it flourishing. In 1648, he was introduced 
 at Court, where his rare merit and conscientious- 
 ness in all affairs gained him great esteem. He 
 was created Marquis of Croissy, and afterwards 
 became Prime Minister. In this capacity, he 
 was eminently useful to France. He improved 
 the roads ; encouraged trade ; founded a chamber 
 of commerce ; colonized India and Canada ; 
 established naval schools ; built ships ; introduced 
 manufactures ; encouraged the fine arts. One 
 cannot go even a small distance in Paris, even at 
 this day, without finding a trace of the great Co 1 -
 
 106 REWARDS OF HONESTY. 
 
 bert. The Observatory, the beautiful gardens of 
 the Tuilleries and Rue St. Dennis, the Hotel of 
 Invalids, and many other things of like nature 
 which adorn and do honor to the city, owe their 
 existence to him. He also raised up his father's 
 family from great poverty to wealth and honor. 
 
 Colbert's first step to distinction was an act of 
 honor and honesty which deprived him of the 
 means of earning his daily bread. If there was 
 ever a case, which, to human appearance, would 
 seem to contradict the old proverb, and show that 
 honesty was not the best policy, one would think 
 his was such a case. But the event proved its 
 truth. And to this single trait in his character 
 may be traced all his greatness. His honesty and 
 integrity made him faithful to his employers. 
 This raised him in their esteem, and contributed 
 to strengthen and confirm this trait of character. 
 This he carried into public life ; and his hon- 
 esty there led him to regard the public benefit 
 as paramount to private interest. The whole of 
 this story may be found in Chambers' Miscellany, 
 published by Gould, Kendall and Lincoln. 
 
 Would you be great ? Honesty and integrity 
 of character lie at the foundation of all true 
 greatness. You must cultivate sincerity, honesty, 
 and fair dealing in early youth, if you would lay 
 the foundation of future greatness.
 
 TRUE COURAGE. 1€7 
 
 Two opposite examples. 
 
 Two boys were passing an orchard on their 
 way from school, in which there were some plum 
 trees, full of nice Fruit. " Come, Thomas," said 
 Henry, "let us jump over and get some plums. 
 Nobody will see us. "We can scud along through 
 the tall corn, and come out on the other side." 
 Thomas replied, " It is wrong. I don't like to 
 try it. I would rather not have the plums than 
 steal them, and I will run along home." " You 
 are a coward." said Henry. " I always knew you 
 was a coward; and if you don't want any plums, 
 you may go without them. But I shall have 
 some very quick." Just as Henry was climbing 
 the wall, the owner of the Held rose up from the 
 other side. Henry jumped back and ran off as 
 fast as his legs could carry him. Thomas had 
 no reason to be afraid, and he walked along as if 
 nothing had happened. The owner, who had 
 heard the conversation between the two boys, 
 then asked Thomas to step over and help him- 
 self to as many plums as he wanted. 
 
 This story teaches two lessons: (1.) It shows 
 the advantages of hones'y. An honest person is 
 not afraid to look others in the face ; and lion-
 
 108 DISHONESTY. 
 
 esty, in the end, always turns out more to one's 
 advantage than dishonesty. (2.) It teaches 
 wherein true courage consists : It is, in being 
 afraid to do wrong. Henry called Thomas a 
 coward, because he was afraid to do wrong ; but 
 he himself sneaked away like a whipped spaniel, 
 the moment he saw any danger. Henry was the 
 coward. He had neither the courage to resist 
 temptation nor to face danger. 
 
 Fruits of dishonesty. 
 
 A young man from the State of Maine, of good 
 abilities, went to Washington city, where he was 
 admitted as a member of the bar, to practice 
 law, with fine prospects. He was respected in 
 society, and was a leader in the choir, in one of 
 the churches in the city. But, in an evil hour, 
 he discovered that there was a considerable 
 amount of money in the Treasury, which had 
 been allowed to claimants, but which had never 
 been called for, and was not likely to be. The 
 young man, thinking he should not be likely to be 
 detected, forged drafts, and obtained money to 
 the amount of several thousand dollars. But, it 
 was not long before his sin found him out. He 
 was detected, found guilty, and sent to the state's 
 prison.
 
 109 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 PURSUIT OF K N W LEDGE, 
 
 Section I. — Reading. 
 
 \ 
 
 E that reads to be amused, will 
 be like him that eats to grati- 
 fy his appetite — an epicure. 
 But he who reads to obtain 
 useful information, and to im- 
 prove his mind, will be like 
 him who eats to sustain nature 
 — strong and healthy. The 
 \ former will be satisiied with noth- 
 \ ing but dainties — the latter will 
 r^^v prefer plain strong food. 
 " larelP ^w Sir William Jones rose to great 
 fSV, eminence. "When he was a mere child, 
 ; e was very inquisitive. His mother was 
 i a superior woman of great intelligence, 
 and he would apply to her for the infor- 
 tion which he desired ; but her constant reply 
 was, " Read and you will know." This gave 
 him a passion for books, which was one of the 
 principal means of making him what he was. 
 But, it is not every one who reads that will be- 
 come wise. 
 
 10
 
 110 
 
 READING. 
 
 Robert Hall. 
 
 This great man, when he was a boy about six 
 years of age, was sent to a boarding school, where 
 he spent the week, coming home Saturday and 
 returning Monday. "When he went away on 
 Monday morning, he would take with him two or 
 three books from his father's library to read at the 
 intervals between the school hours. The books 
 he selected, were not those of mere amusement, 
 but such as required deep and serious thought. 
 Before he was nine years old, he had read over 
 and over again, with the deepest interest, Edwards 
 on the Affections, Edwards on the Will, and But- 
 ler's Analogy.
 
 Ill 
 
 Section II. — Love of Learning Encour- 
 aged. 
 
 HERE are many young per- 
 sons, who have an ardent thirst 
 for knowledge, and a strong 
 pja desire to obtain an education ; 
 wS but their circumstances in life 
 seem to forbid the attempt. 
 There are many examples, 
 which afford them encourage- 
 ment to make the attempt. A large 
 proportion of the men who have 
 risen to the highest distinction, have 
 struggled against the same difficul- 
 ties ties which they have to encounter ; and, 
 S^c when they see what has been done by 
 others, they- will perceive that it can be 
 done by themselves. 
 
 Sir Isaac Newton. 
 
 "When Sir Isaac Newton was a boy he was 
 employed in servile labor. Sometimes he was 
 sent to open the gates for the men that were 
 driving the cattle to market. At other times, he
 
 112 BENJAMIN WEST. 
 
 carried corn to market, or attended the sheep. 
 One day his uncle found him in a hay-loft, work- 
 ing out a mathematical problem, and he was sent 
 to school. There he discovered his great and 
 various talents. At the age of eighteen he was 
 sent to the University at Cambridge, England, 
 where he soon distinguished himself. 
 
 Benjamin West. 
 
 West, the celebrated painter, early manifested 
 a genius for this art. His first attempt was made 
 with pens, and red and black ink, upon a portrait 
 of his sister's child, lying in the cradle. For a 
 long time he had no pencil. Having been told 
 that they were made of camel's hair, he pulled 
 hairs out of the tail of a cat, of which he made 
 his first brush. 
 
 Other eminent Persons. 
 
 Dr. Franklin was the son of a tallow-chandler, 
 and served an apprenticeship to a printer ; Rev. 
 Dr. Scott, author of the Commentary, was em- 
 ployed in the most laborious work on a farm ; 
 William Gilford, one of the most celebrated lite- 
 rary men of his age, was an apprentice to a shoe- 
 maker, and wrought out his problems in algebra on 
 a piece of sole-leather, with the point of an awl.
 
 113 
 
 Section III. — Dislike of Study. 
 LATIN AND LABOR. 
 
 OHN ADAMS, the second 
 President of the United States, 
 used to relate the following 
 anecdote : 
 
 " When I was a boy, I had 
 to study the Latin grammar ; 
 but it was dull, and I hated it. 
 My father was anxious to send 
 me to college, and therefore I 
 studied the grammar, till I could 
 bear it no longer; and going to 
 my father, I told him I did not 
 study, and asked for some other 
 employment. It was opposing his 
 wishes, and he was quick in his an- 
 swer. ' Well, John, if Latin grammar 
 does not suit you, you may try ditching ; perhaps 
 that will ; my meadow yonder needs a ditch, aftd 
 you may put by Latin and try that.' 
 
 ' ; This seemed a delightful change, and to the 
 meadow I went. But I soon found ditching 
 harder than Latin, and the first forenoon was the 
 longest I ever experienced. That day I ate the 
 bread of Labor, and glad was I when night came 
 10*
 
 114 JOHN ADAMS. 
 
 on. That night I made some comparison between 
 Latin grammar and ditching, but said not a word 
 about it. I dug next forenoon, and wanted to 
 return to Latin at dinner ; but it was humiliating, 
 and I could not do it. At night, toil conquered 
 pride ; and though it was one of the severest 
 trials I ever had in my life, I told my father that,. 
 if he chose, I would go back to Latin grammar. 
 He was glad of it ; and if I have since gained any 
 distinction it has been owing to the two days 
 labor in that abominable ditch." 
 
 Boys may learn several important lessons from 
 this story. It shows how little they oftentimes 
 appreciate their privileges. Those who are kept 
 at study frequently think it a hardship need- 
 lessly imposed on them. But they must do some- 
 thing; and if set to ditching, would they like that 
 any better? The opportunity of pursuing a lib- 
 eral course of study is what few enjoy ; and they 
 are ungrateful who drag themselves to it as to 
 an intolerable task. You may also learn from 
 this anecdote, how much better your parents are 
 qualified to judge of these things than your- 
 selves. If John Adams had continued his ditch- 
 ing instead of his Latin, his name would not 
 probably have been known to us. But, in fol- 
 lowing the path marked out by his judicious 
 parent, he rose to the highest honors which the 
 country affords*
 
 115 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 MISCELLANEOUS SUBJECTS. 
 
 Section I. — Fickleness. 
 
 Hunting Squirrels. 
 
 OHN ALSOP was about fif- 
 teen years old, "when his father, 
 who had just moved into a 
 new settlement, was clearing 
 land. One day the father and 
 a neighbor were engaged in 
 
 O CO 
 
 building a Jog fence ; which 
 was made of the trunks of the 
 that were cleared off the lands. 
 First, they laid the fence one log 
 high, with the ends of each length 
 passing a little way by each other. 
 Notches were cut in the ends, and a 
 block was laid crosswise, where the 
 ends lapped, and then another tier was 
 laid on the cross pieces, till the fence 
 was high enough. To roll up the top logs, they 
 would lay long poles, called skids, one end on iie 
 top of the logs, and the other on the ground, and
 
 116 HUNTING THE SQUIRREL. 
 
 roll up the logs on these. But, as the logs ivere 
 very heavy, they were obliged to stop several 
 times to rest, or to get a new hold ; and it was 
 John's business, when they stopped, to put a block 
 the under side of the log, above the skids, to keep 
 it from rolling back. Having given a hard lift, and 
 tugging with all his might, the father called out, 
 "There, Johnny, put under your block quick." 
 John started nimbly, and snatched up his block, 
 when suddenly the loud chirp of a squirrel struck 
 his ear. Instantly, down went his block, and away 
 he ran after the squirrel, leaving his father and 
 the other man to hold the log till he came back. 
 This anecdote gives you John's character. He 
 was too fickle to follow any one object or pursuit 
 long enough to accomplish any thing. Thirty 
 years after this, a gentleman who had known him 
 in his youthful days, inquired about him of one of 
 his neighbors, who related this anecdote, and 
 added, " he has been running after squirrels ever 
 since." He never was steady and persevering 
 in pursuit of any thing. When he was a young 
 man, he could never make up his mind decidedly 
 what employment to follow. He would try one, 
 and get tired of it, and take another ; but follow- 
 ed no business long enough to get well acquainted 
 with it. When he had a family, and found it 
 necessary to make exertion, he was busy early
 
 HUNTING SQUIRRELS. 117 
 
 and late, but to little purpose. He moved from 
 one place to another ; and " a rolling stone gath- 
 ers no moss." He very often changed his em- 
 ployment, and by that means lost all the advan- 
 tage of past experience. Now, he was a farmer, 
 then a trader, then a post-rider, then a deputy 
 sheriff, then a mechanic, without having learned 
 his trade. By the time he had got fairly started in 
 a new business, he would hear or think of some- 
 thing else, and before any body thought of it, he 
 would change his business. In this way he wast- 
 ed his money, and kept his family poor, and neg- 
 lected his children's education. He was always 
 hunting the squirrel. 
 
 Now, boys, don't hunt the squirrel. Whatever 
 you begin, stick to it till it is finished — done, 
 and well done. If you always follow this rule 
 faithfully, you cannot fail of being somebody and 
 doing something. But, if you go through life 
 hunting the squirrel, when you die, nobody can 
 tell what you have done, and the world will be 
 neither wiser nor better for your having lived 
 in it.
 
 118 
 
 Section II. — Independence of Character. 
 
 HERE is a certain kind of 
 Independence of Character, 
 which is indispensable to suc- 
 cess in any undertaking. I do 
 not mean a proud, self-confi- 
 dent spirit, which despises ad- 
 vice, and makes one self-willed 
 and headstrong. This is ob- 
 stinacy. But true independence is 
 that sort of self-confidence and reso- 
 lution which leads one to go for- 
 ward in what he has to do, with 
 decision and energy, without leaning 
 \ fcvH u P on ° tners - Without this, a man will 
 gain to himself that unenviable distinc- 
 ) • tion described by the homely but expres- 
 sive term shiftless. The following description, 
 from Mrs. S. C. Hall's " Sketches of Irish Charac- 
 ter" * furnishes an admirable illustration of the 
 results of a want of independence of character : — 
 " Shane Thurlough, ' as dacent a boy,' and 
 Shane's wife, as 'clane-skinned a girl,' as any in 
 
 * See Frontispiece. 
 
 7
 
 DEPENDING ON OTHERS. 119 
 
 the world. There is Shane, an active, handsome 
 looking fellow, leaning over the half-door of his 
 cottage, kicking a hole in the wall with his brogue, 
 and picking up all the large gravel within his 
 reach, to pelt the ducks with. Let us speak to 
 him. ' Good morning Shane.' ' Och ! the bright 
 bames of heaven on ye every day ! and kindly 
 welcome, my lady; and won't ye step in and 
 rest — its powerful hot, and a beautiful summer, 
 sure, — the Lord be praised ! ' ' Thank you, 
 Shane. I thought you were going to cut the 
 hay-field to-day ; if a heavy shower comes, it 
 will be spoiled ; it has been fit for the scythe 
 these two days.' ' Sure, it's all owing to that 
 thief o' the world, Tom Parrel, my lady. Did n't 
 he promise me the loan of his scythe ; and by 
 the same token I was to pay him for it ; and 
 depinding on that, I did n't buy one, which I have 
 been threatening to do for the last two years/ 
 ' But why don't you go to Carrick and purchase 
 one ? ' * To Carrick. Och, 'tis a good step to 
 Carrick, and my toes are on the ground, (saving 
 your presence,) for I depinded on Tim Jarvis to 
 tell Andy Cappler, the brogue-maker, to do my 
 shoes ; and, bad luck to him, the spalpeen, he 
 forgot it' 'Where's your pretty wife, Shane?' 
 * She 's in all the wo o* the world, ma'am, dear. 
 And the blame of it on me, though I 'm
 
 120 DEPENDING ON OTHERS. 
 
 not in the fault this time, any how. The child's 
 taken the small pox, and she depinded on me to 
 tell the doctor to cut it for the cow-pox, and I 
 
 rinded on Kitty Cackle, the limmer, to tell the 
 »r's own man, and thought she would not 
 forget it, becase the boy's her bachelor ; but out 
 o' sight out o' mind — the never a word she tould 
 him about it, and the babby 's got it nataral, and 
 the woman's in heart trouble, (to say nothing o* 
 myself;) and its the first and all.' 
 
 ' I am very sorry, indeed, for you have got a 
 much better wife than most men ! ' ' That's a true 
 word, my lady, only she's fidgety-like some- 
 times, and says I don't hit the nail on the head 
 quick enough ; and she takes a dale more trouble 
 than she need about mony a thing.' 
 
 i I do not think I ever saw Ellen's wheel with- 
 out flax before, Shane?' 'Bad 'cess to the 
 wheel ! — I got it this morning about that too. I 
 depinded on John "Williams to bring the flax 
 from O'Flaharty's this day week, and he forgot 
 it ; and she says I ought to have brought it my- 
 self, and I close to the spot. But where 's the 
 good ? says I ; sure, he '11 bring it next time/ 
 
 ' 1 suppose, Shane, you will soon move into the 
 new cottage at Churn Hill ? I passed it to-day,, 
 and it looked so cheerful; and when you get 
 there, you must take Ellen's advice, and deyind
 
 
 DEPENDING OX OTIIERS. 121 
 
 solely on yourself.' ' Och ! ma'am dear, don't 
 mention it ; sure it's that makes me so down in 
 the mouth this very minit. Sure I saw that born 
 blackguard, Jack Waddy, and he comes in here, 
 quite innocent-like — 'Shane, you've an eye 
 to squire's new lodge,' says he. ' Maybe I have,' 
 says I. ' I'm yer man,' says he. ' How so,' 
 says I. ' Sure I'm as good as married to my 
 lady's maid,' said he ; ' and I'll spake to the 
 squire for you my own self.' ' The blessing 
 be about you,' says I, quite grateful — and we 
 took a strong cup on the strength of it — and 
 depi tiding on him, I thought all safe ; and 
 what d'ye think, my lady ? Why, himself stalks 
 into the place — talked the squire over, to be 
 sure — and without so much as "by your lave," 
 sates himself and his new wife on the lase in the 
 house ; and I may go whistle.' ' It was a great 
 pity, Shane, that you did not go yourself to Mr. 
 Churn.' ' That's a true word for you. ma'am 
 dear ; but it's hard if a poor man can't have a 
 frind to depind on.' " 
 
 If you want any thing well done, you must see 
 to it yourself. If you want it half done, leave 
 it to servants. If you want it neglected, impose 
 it upon your friend, to save yourself the trouble. 
 
 11
 
 122 
 
 Section III. — Contentment. 
 
 HE true secret of happiness 
 lies in a contented mind. If 
 we would be happy, we must 
 be satisfied with our lot as it is. 
 There is no condition in which 
 there is not something unplea- 
 sant. If we seek for perfec- 
 tion, we may roam the wide 
 Id over, and never find it; but; 
 e learn to bear patiently what 
 cannot help, almost any situation 
 ife will be tolerable. Every 
 ever, is disposed to think his 
 troubles the worst of all. The follow- 
 ing story shows that no situation is ex- 
 empt from trouble. 
 
 The old black sheep. 
 
 A gentleman in England was passing by where 
 a large flock of sheep were feeding ; and seeing 
 the shepherd sitting by the road-side, preparing
 
 CONTENTMENT. 123 
 
 to eat his dinner, lie stopped his horse, and be- 
 gan to converse with him. " Well, shepherd," 
 he said, " you look cheerful and contented, and I 
 dare say, have very few cares to vex you. I, 
 who am a man of large property, cannot but look 
 at such men as you Avith a kind of envy." 
 " Why, sir," replied the shepherd, " 'tis true, I 
 have not trouble like yours ; and I could do well 
 enough, was it not for that Mack ewe that you see 
 yonder among my flock. I have often begged 
 my master to kill or sell her ; but he won't, 
 though she is the plague of my life ; for no soon- 
 er do I sit down at my book or take up my wal- 
 let to get my dinner, but away she sets otf over 
 the down, and the rest follow her ; so that I have 
 many a weary step after them. There ! you see" 
 she's off, and they are all after her ! " " Ah, 
 my friend," said the gentleman, " I see every 
 man has a black ewe in his flock, to plague him, 
 as well as I." 
 
 Hunting after contentment. 
 
 A man had a number of houses, and would 
 move from one to another, because he could be 
 contented but a little while in a place. A person 
 asked him why he moved so often, and he said he 
 was hunting after contentment. But content is 
 never found by seeking.
 
 124 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 KELIGION. 
 Section I. — Religious Knowledge. 
 
 THE WILL. 
 
 ,^x^fp^>--^ NOWLEDGE is acquired not 
 only by reading, but by think- 
 ing of what we read. 
 
 A minister in Ireland met a 
 
 boy going to school, and asked 
 
 him what book it was which 
 
 he had under his arm. " It is 
 
 a will, sir," said the boy. 
 
 What will ? " inquired the minister. 
 
 The last will and testament that 
 
 >fr ^v?^. Jesus Christ left to me, and to all 
 
 Vw* ^ wno d esu * e t0 oDtam a title in the 
 
 ^_ property therein bequeathed." "What 
 
 /: ')P$\ cuc ^ Christ l eave J ou m tnat w iU ? " 
 yj_%i " A kingdom, sir." " Where does that 
 kingdom lie ? " " It is the kingdom of 
 heaven, sir." " And do you expect to reign as a 
 king there ? " " Yes, sir ; as joint-heir with 
 Christ." " And will not every person get there
 
 RELIGIOUS KNOWLEDGE. 125 
 
 as well as you ? " " No, sir; none can get there 
 but those who found their title to that kingdom 
 upon the ground of the will." This boy was not 
 only a reader but a thinker. The minister told 
 him to take care of a book of such value, and to 
 mind the provisions of the will. 
 
 A Little Reasoner. 
 
 A little boy asked his mother how many gods 
 there were. A younger brother answered, 
 " Why, one to be sure." " But how do you know 
 that ? " inquired the other. " Because," answered 
 the younger, " God fills every place so that 
 there is no room for any other." 
 
 A Wise Answer. 
 
 A boy six years old was offered an orange, if 
 he would tell where God was. " Tell me," said 
 the boy, " where he is not, and I will give you 
 two." 
 
 A Bad Bargain. 
 
 A Sabbath School teacher was talking to his 
 
 class about that passage in Proverbs, which says, 
 
 " Buy the truth and sell it not." " He who buys 
 
 the truth," said he, " makes a good bargain. Can 
 
 11*
 
 126 FAITH. 
 
 any of you recollect any instance of a bad bar- 
 gain, mentioned in Scripture ? " "I do," replied 
 one of liis scholars : — " Esau made a bad bar- 
 gain, when he sold his birth-right for a mess of 
 pottage." Another said, " Judas made a bad bar- 
 gain, when he sold his Lord for thirty pieces of 
 silver." A third observed, " Our Lord tells us 
 that he makes a bad bargain, who, to gain the 
 whole world, loses his own soul." Alas ! how 
 many such bad bargains are made every day ! 
 
 Simple Faith. 
 
 A missionary in Africa asked a little boy if he 
 was a sinner. The boy replied by asking if h'e 
 knew any one who was not. The missionary 
 then asked him who could save him from his sins. 
 He replied, " Christ." " What has Christ done 
 to save sinners ? " " He has died on the cross." 
 " Do you believe Jesus Christ will save you ? " 
 " Yes." " Why do you believe it ? " " I feel it ; 
 and not only so, but I consider that, since he has 
 died, and sent his servants the missionaries from 
 such a far country to publish salvation, it would 
 be very strange if, after all, he should reject a sin- 
 ner." It would be so indeed, with respect to all 
 that come to Him ; for he has said, " Him that 
 cometh to me, I will in no wise cast out."
 
 PROOF THAT THERE 15 A GOD. 127 
 
 Proof that there is a God. 
 
 A converted Greenlander, conversing with a 
 missionary concerning his former state, said that, 
 before he had ever heard about God or Jesus 
 Christ, he used to have such reflections as these : 
 A boat does not grow into existence of itself, but 
 must be made by the labor and ingenuity of man. 
 But the meanest bird has far more skill displayed 
 in its structure than the best boat, and no man 
 can make a bird. But there is far more art 
 shown in the formation of man than in any other 
 creature. YTho was it that made him ? I 
 thought perhaps he proceeded from his parents, 
 and they from their parents ; but some must have 
 been the first parents — whence did they come ? 
 Common report informs me that they grew out 
 of the earth ; but if so, why do not men now 
 grow out of the earth ? And from whence did 
 this same earth, the sea, the sun, the moon, and 
 the stars, arise into existence ? Certainly, there 
 must be some Being, who made all these things 
 — a Being that always was, and can never cease 
 to be. He must be inexpressibly more mighty, 
 knowing, and wise, than the wisest man. He 
 must be very good too ; for every thing that is
 
 128 PROOF THAT THERE IS A GOD. 
 
 made is good, useful, and necessary for us. Ah ! 
 did I but know him, how would I love him and 
 honor him ! But who has seen him ? "Who has 
 conversed with him ? " 
 
 This poor heathen, groping in the dark, was 
 led to the same train of reasoning to prove the 
 existence of God that is used by the learned 
 Christian philosopher ; thus proving the truth of 
 that passage in Rom. i. 20: — "The invisible 
 things of God, from the creation of the world 
 are clearly seen, being understood by the things 
 that are made, even his eternal power and God- 
 head." 
 
 How to prove the Bible true. 
 
 At one of the South Sea Islands, which had 
 been converted from heathenism by the labors of 
 the English Missionaries, they were holding the 
 annual meeting of their Missionary Society. A 
 British vessel arrived, and the officers and crew 
 attended the meeting. A native took the chair, 
 and native speakers addressed the meeting, with 
 great effect. Every thing was done in good or- 
 der ; and the speeches were interpreted by the 
 missionaries to the Englishmen present from the 
 ship. But some of them said the natives were 
 mere parrots, and only repeated what the mis-
 
 HOW TO PROVE THE BIBLE TRUE. 129 
 
 sionaries had taught them. Others said that was 
 
 impossible. After a warm dispute, they agreed 
 to submit it to Mr. Williams, the missionary; 
 who declined deciding the question, but told them 
 if they would visit him in the afternoon, he would 
 collect ten or twelve natives, whom they might 
 ask any questions they pleased. They came, and 
 about fifteen natives were present, but without 
 knowing the object of the meeting. 
 
 The first question asked was, " Do you believe 
 the Bible to be the word of God ? " They were 
 startled. They had never heard such a question 
 started before. A doubt had never entered their 
 minds. After a moment's pause, one of them re- 
 plied. " Most certainly we do ; undoubtedly we do." 
 '* Why do you believe it ? " they were again asked. 
 u Can you give any reason for believing the Bible 
 to be the word of God ? " He answered : " Why, 
 look at the power with which it has been attended, 
 in the utter overthrow of all that we have been 
 addicted to from time immemorial. What else 
 could have abolished that system of idolatry, 
 which had so long prevailed among us ? No hu- 
 man arguments could have induced us to abandon 
 that false system." 
 
 The same questions were put to another, who 
 replied, " I believe the Bible to be the word of 
 God, on account of the pure system of religion
 
 130 PROOF OF THE BIBLE. 
 
 which it contains. We had a system of religion 
 before ; but look how dark and black that system 
 was compared with the bright system of salva- 
 tion revealed in the word of God ! Here we 
 learn 1 that we are sinners, and that God gave Je- 
 sus Christ to die for us ; and by that goodness 
 salvation is given to us. Now, what but the wis- 
 dom of God could have produced such a system 
 as this presented to us in the word of God ? 
 And this doctrine leads to purity." 
 
 Another made the following singular reply, 
 which is worthy of a learned philosopher : " When 
 I look at myself, I find I have got hinges all over 
 my body. I have hinges to my legs, hinges to my 
 jaws, hinges to my feet. If I want to take hold 
 of any thing, there are hinges to my hands to do 
 it with. If my heart thinks, and I want to speak, 
 I have got hinges to my jaws. If I want to 
 walk, I have hinges to my feet. Now here is 
 wisdom, in adapting my body to the various func- 
 tions which it has to discharge. And I find that 
 the wisdom which made the Bible exactly fits 
 with this wisdom which has made my body ; con- 
 sequently I believe the Bible to be the word of 
 God." 
 
 The argument, in this last answer, is the same 
 as that which proves the existence of God : the 
 perfect adaptation of all the works of nature to
 
 PROOF OF THE BIBLE. 131 
 
 their design, shows them to have been the work 
 of a Supreme Intelligence. The perfect adapta- 
 tion of the Bible to the condition, wants, and 
 necessities of man, proves it to be of divine ori- 
 gin. The Bible just suits the design for which 
 it professes to have been given. It giv< s 
 just that information and instruction, which we 
 should expect a revelation from heaven to give. 
 It gives a rational account of the origin of all 
 things ; of the object of man's existence, and of his 
 relations and duties to God. It explains how 
 man came to be in his present fallen, wretched 
 condition, and makes provision for his restoration 
 to the favor of God. It provides for a radical 
 reformation of character ; gives a perfect code 
 of morals, and takes hold on the heart, and 
 inspires a devotional spirit. Human wisdom 
 could not have produced such a book ; but if it 
 could, good men would not have been guilty of 
 imposing a work of their own upon mankind, as a 
 revelation from heaven ; and bad men would not 
 have made a book to condemn themselves, as the 
 Bible condemns all wickedness. We must, then, 
 conclude, that the Bible is a divine book. 
 
 ^$mm
 
 132 
 
 Section II. — The Sabbath. 
 
 Nothing lost by keeping the Sabbath. 
 
 <3kJJ^ PIOUS sailor, on board the 
 steamboat Helen McGreggor, 
 in 1830, was ordered by the 
 Captain to assist in handling 
 freight on the Sabbath ; which 
 he objected to do, because he 
 wished to keep the Sabbath. 
 " We have no Sabbaths here 
 the West," the Captain replied. 
 Very well," said the sailor, " wher- 
 -er I am, I am determined to keep 
 the Sabbath." After a few more 
 the Captain settled with him, and 
 the boat. He was soon offered 
 wages, if he would come back ; 
 but he refused. In a few days, he ship- 
 ped at New Orleans for Europe. The first 
 newspaper he took up on his arrival contained 
 an account of the terrible disaster which hap- 
 pened to this boat soon after lie left it. On the 
 morning of the 24th of February, 1830, she
 
 GEORGE III. 133 
 
 burst her boiler at Memphis, Term., and nearly 
 one hundred lives were lost. This dreadful dis- 
 aster he had escaped, by adhering, at all hazards, 
 to his determination, wherever he was, to keep 
 the Sabbath. 
 
 AVhen George III. was repairing his palace, he 
 found among the workmen a pious man, with 
 whom he often held serious conversations. One 
 Monday morning, when the king went to view 
 the works, this man was missing. He inquired 
 the reason. At first, the other workmen were 
 unwilling to tell. But the king insisted on 
 knowing ; when they confessed that they had re- 
 turned Sabbath morning, to complete a piece of 
 work which they could not finish on Saturday, 
 and that this man had been turned out of his 
 employment because be refused to come. " Call 
 him back immediately," said the king. " The 
 man who refused doing his ordinary work on the 
 Lord's day is the man for me. Let him be sent 
 for." He was restored to his place ; and always 
 afterwards, the king showed him particular favor. 
 Here was a strong temptation to break the Sab- 
 bath, for the man's employment depended on it. 
 But he found it both safe and profitable to keep 
 the Sabbath. 
 
 12
 
 134. THE SAEBATli. 
 
 A wise answer. 
 
 A wicked man said to his son, who attended 
 the Sabbath School, " carry this parcel to such a 
 place." " It is the Sabbath," said the boy. 
 " Put it in your pocket," said the father. " God 
 can see into my pocket," the little boy answered. 
 
 Danger of breaking the Sabbath. 
 
 It is believed that more sad accidents happen 
 to young persons, while seeking their pleasure on 
 God's Holy Day, than by any other means. A 
 great proportion of the cases of drowning, among 
 3oys, occur on the Sabbath. One fine summer's 
 morning, two sprightly young lads started for 
 the Sabbath School ; but they were met on the 
 way by some rude boys, who persuaded them to 
 go and play with them by the side of the river. 
 They hesitated for some time, instead of resolutely 
 saying " No," to the first temptation. When they 
 yielded, it was with troubled consciences, for they 
 were well instructed at home. They played 
 about the river for some time, when one of them, 
 venturing too near, fell into the water, which was 
 deep. His companions were too much frightened
 
 THE SABBATH. 135 
 
 to give him any assistance, and he Mas carried 
 away by the rapid current and drowned. Thus 
 were these two boys punished for their disobedi- 
 ence to God and their parents. 
 
 But one Sabbath in the week. 
 
 A person being invited to go on an excursion 
 for pleasure, on the Holy Sabbath, replied, " I 
 should like an excursion very well ; but I have 
 but one Sabbath in the week, and I can't spare 
 that." This expresses an important truth in an 
 impressive manner. When we have but one day 
 in the week exclusively devoted to the concerns 
 of eternity, while six are devoted to the affairs 
 of time, can we spare that one day for pleasure ? 
 It is the best of the seven. It is worth more 
 than all the rest. If rightly employed, it will 
 bring us a richer return. What we can earn in 
 the six days is perishable ; but the fruits of a 
 well-spent Sabbath will endure for ever. The 
 Sabbath, when properly spent, is the day for the 
 highest kind of enjoyment. If, therefore, you 
 would seek pleasure, you can better aiford to take 
 any other day in the week for it, than to take the 
 holy Sabbath.
 
 136 
 
 Section III. — Early piety recommended. 
 
 MAN eighty-seven years of 
 age, meeting another aged 
 man not quite as old as him- 
 self, the other inquired of him 
 how long he had been interest- 
 ed in religion. "Fifty years," 
 was the old man's reply. 
 " Well, have you ever regret- 
 ted that you began so young to 
 devote yourself to God ? " "0 no," 
 said he ; and the tears trickled 
 clown his checks. " I weep when I 
 think of the sins of my youth." 
 
 Another man between sixty and 
 seventy years of age, said, " I hope I 
 became a disciple of the Lord when 
 I was seventeen ; and he burst into a flood of 
 tears as he added, " and there is nothing which 
 causes me so much distress as to think of those 
 seventeen years — some of the very best portion 
 of my life, — which I devoted to sin and the 
 world."
 
 EARLY PIETY. 
 
 137 
 
 This was the experience of David, who, in his 
 old age, prayed, " Remember not, O Lord the 
 sins of my youth." And it will be the reader's 
 experience, should he ever be brought to a 
 knowledge of the truth, after giving the flower of 
 his days to the service of sin and Satan. 
 
 M- 
 
 Danger of delay. 
 
 - was an impenitent youth. His 
 
 friend, who had just embraced the Saviour, in the 
 ardor of his first love, besought him to turn to 
 the Lord. He acknowledged the great import- 
 ance of the things which were urged upon his 
 attention ; and said that, long before, the Spirit 
 of God had called upon him, and he was " almost 
 12*
 
 138 EARLY PIETY. 
 
 persuaded to be a Christian." Once he stood 
 almost on the threshhold of heaven. " But 
 now," said he, " I am fallen, fallen — how far ! 
 I know that I am not a Christian now. I am a 
 great sinner. I have quenched the Holy Spirit. 
 If I should die as I am, I know I shall be eter- 
 nally lost, for I believe the Bible. You may 
 think, because I am so careless now, I shall die 
 unconverted. But no, I have more thoughts 
 about death than many suppose. / mean to re- 
 pent before I die, and become a Christian. I can- 
 not think of dying as I now am ; but you need 
 not be concerned about me,ybr / mean to repent 
 yet." Not many days afterwards, he was cross- 
 ing a river, with a number of others, for the pur- 
 pose of spending the day in amusement. The 
 skiff upset, and they were plunged into the wa- 
 ter. All the rest of the company but A (who 
 
 was the best swimmer among them), reached the 
 shore. He was heard, as he struggled towards 
 the bank, to utter a fearful oath, calling upon 
 God to damn his soul. God took him at his 
 word. He sunk to rise no more — a fearful 
 warning on those who presume on future repent- 
 ance!
 
 139 
 
 Section IV. — Uncertainty of Life, 
 
 ■ Go to now, ye that say, To-day or to-morrow we will go into such ft 
 «ity, and continue there a year, and buy, and sell, and get gain : 
 
 '• Whereas ye know not what shall be on the morrow. For what 15 your 
 Bfe ? It is even a vapour, that appeareth for a little time and then van- 
 ^sheth away. 
 
 u For that ye ought to say, if the Lord will, we shall live, and do this, or 
 that." —James iv. 13, 14, 15. 
 
 <8W8££! 
 
 WRi 
 
 N Friday, the Editor of the 
 New-York Commercial Ad- 
 vertiser, met a Mr. Storrs in 
 the street and requested from 
 him an account of an Indian 
 adventure which he had heard 
 him relate. Mr. Storrs re- 
 jCS^. plied, " I am going to Xew 
 Haven in the morning. I will 
 write it there and bring it down for 
 ou on Monday. You shall have 
 
 
 on Monday." These were his 
 last words. On Monday he was buri- 
 ed. Such is the uncertainty of all 
 human calculations ! Let the busi- 
 ness of the day be done to-day ; for no 
 one is sure of to-morrow. Especially let the 
 great business of life always be done, and then 
 6udden death need not be dreaded. 
 
 T4
 
 140 UNCERTAINTY OF LIFE. 
 
 Sudden death of an impenitent sinner. 
 
 On a cold day in the middle of winter, a car- 
 riage drove up to a minister's house and he was 
 summoned to attend the death-bed of a young 
 man, who, in the midst of life and health had 
 been just struck down by a violent kick from a 
 horse, and was not expected to live more than a 
 few hours. The blow had broken his skull bone y 
 and cut out a piece as large as the palm of his 
 hand, presenting a ghastly and horrible sight. 
 
 When the minister arrived, he found him 
 just recovering his senses. The physician came 
 goon after, and decided that there was no hope 
 of saving his life. The minister, after saying a 
 few words, and engaging in prayer, proposed to 
 retire for a short time, to give the young man a 
 little rest. " No, no,'' he exclaimed, " do not 
 leave me for a moment. I have but a short time 
 to live, and I dare not die as I am. what shall 
 1 do ? Tell me quickly before the light of rea- 
 son forsakes me." 
 
 " James," said the minister, " there is but ono 
 way in which a sinner can be saved, and that is, 
 by faith in the Lord Jesus Christ ; — whether ars
 
 NOVEL-KEADIXG. 141 
 
 hour only, or years be allowed you, the only way 
 for you to secure salvation is, by casting yourself 
 unreservedly into the Saviour's hand. Only his 
 blood can save you ; and you are welcome now, 
 this moment. All things are ready — come 
 now." 
 
 The young man, with a look of anguish, re- 
 plied, " Do you remember, sir, when I was putting 
 up some shelves in your study, eight months ago, 
 that you asked me to stop, while you talked with 
 me about religion, and prayed for me ? It was 
 then that I felt that I was a sinner, and after go- 
 ing home, I endeavored to pray for myself, and 
 determined that I would* seek religion. Two or 
 three days, these feelings continued ; when, un- 
 happily for me, I took up a book, which I had 
 commenced reading before our conversation, and 
 though conscience remonstrated, I went on and 
 finished it. My feelings were much enlisted in 
 the story, but when I got through I had no 
 disposition to pray ; and my anxiety about reli- 
 gion was gone. I resumed novel-reading, of 
 which I had been very fond, and compromised 
 with my conscience, by resolving that at the end 
 of one year I would throw all such books aside, 
 and seek the salvation of my soul. Only ^vo 
 thirds of that year are gone, and here I am dy- 
 ing ! Fool, fool that I was, to sell my soul for a
 
 142 SUDDEN DEATH. 
 
 novel — to prefer the excitement of an idle tale 
 to the joys of religion." 
 
 The minister begged him, whatever had been 
 his past folly and guilt, to look to Christ for the 
 forgiveness of all. But while he was speaking, 
 the young man's reason began to fail. In a short 
 time he was delirious. " Fool, fool ! " he would ex- 
 claim, at intervals, and this was all he said. In 
 this state of mind, death overtook him, four months 
 before the period arrived, to which he had put off 
 attention to the concerns of his soul — a sad warn- 
 ing to those who defer this first and great concern ! 
 
 Sudden Death pf a Christian, 
 
 William G. was a young man in vigorous 
 health and of ardent temperament, with great 
 energy of character. His office was that of a 
 brake man upon the Railroad. A long line of 
 freight cars had been delayed a few minutes be- 
 hind the time, and must hasten to reach the turn- 
 out in season for the passenger train, which was 
 expected to pass in a few moments. Two cars 
 were to be detached ; which, by a dexterous 
 movement, could be done without entirely stop- 
 ping the train. The moment the engine is slack- 
 ened, the cars behind will gain a little upon those 
 in front, when the connecting pin can be removed, 
 and the hinder cars detached. This the young
 
 CALMNESS IX DEATPI. 143 
 
 man had often done before, and he sprang for- 
 ward with alacrity to perform it now. But, in 
 the path lay a pebble, so small as to escape no- 
 tice, and yet large enough, as he stepped rapidly 
 backwards, to throw him prostrate on the track, 
 while the heavy-laden cars passed on over his 
 body. It was the work of an instant, but it was 
 done. There lay, mangled and writhing, the 
 young man, who, not one moment before, was 
 buoyant, healthful, full of enterprise and hope. 
 There was no hope of his life. With one arm 
 extended, the only unbroken limb in his body, he 
 speaks : " I must die — I know it — I must die, 
 but thank God I am ready to die. Yes, I am 
 willing to die, if it is God's will. And yet, I 
 should like to live. My poor mother — who will 
 take care of her? My poor sisters — and oh, 
 my poor dear Mary! Send for them — send for 
 them. Send now. I must see them once more. 
 I have much to say to them. Oh, my God, 
 thy will be done!" They came, and there 
 was such a burst of grief as is seldom wit- 
 nessed. Yet, amid all this, he was calm. Not 
 a groan, not a murmur had escaped him through 
 the long hours of bodily suffering which he 
 had endured, and not a murmur nor a groan 
 did he suffer now, when the heart-strings were 
 broken. He spoke calmly and clearly to them
 
 144 CALMNESS IN DEATH. 
 
 all, gave them counsel, bade each a tender fare- 
 well; then closed his eyes, and sunk into the 
 sleep of death. What would this scene have 
 been without the Christian hope ? This young 
 man had anchored his hope firm upon the Rock 
 of Ages. It had supported him in the busy 
 scenes of life. It now sustained him in the sud- 
 den hour of trial, when the pains of death seized 
 upon him without warning. " Let me die the 
 
 DEATH OF THE RIGHTEOUS, AND LET MY LAST 
 END BE LIKE HIS ! "
 
 -\
 
 This book is DUE on the last 
 date stamped below 
 
 FEB 21949 
 JUN18 1S57 
 
 5m-6,'41(3644)
 
 BRARY FACILITY 
 
 B 000 016 941 7 
 
 PN 
 
 6261 
 N43a 
 1854
 
 mi 
 
 t wu 11 
 
 I I KUl 
 
 JlKsi^Wi 
 
 mmm 
 
 m 
 
 i 
 
 »!M!