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Les diagrammes suivants illustrent la m*thode. 1 2 3 1 2 3 4 5 6 MICROCOPY RESOLUTION TEST CHART (ANSI and ISO TEST CHART No. 2) 1.0 I.I 1.25 |^|2£ ■ 5.0 ^^" 1^ ■ttl^ IJi^ £ US, 1 2.0 U u. HUU III 1.8 1.4 ||l.6 II- ^ .APPLIED IIVMGE inc 1653 East Main Street Rochester, New York 14509 USA (716) 482 - 0300 - Phone (716) 288-5989 -Fax a* m \' m / h ^j i^>f^ / <-., ^ ^i>^^ ^^^-^L-^:^-^^ ~^ ^^ ^^ .^^ i^^!i>^^t^ i^i^-j^^£>W ^L^A^,/^-^ • ^^ <.' mmm % OR THE ^.^upil of \p ^v^''' " "Krotjns, ^ i NCH TRANSLATED FROM BY ii-RB J 8ADLIER NEW EDITION RRTISKD A.MD CO»K«CT«l». P. J. KENEDY, ExcF.t-sioK Catholic PibUMiiNG Uvv^k, 5 I'.AKCLAY StKKET, IQO4. ,1 V l eibU •( CtntmU. CHAPTER I Benjamin*! Birlh— Kirst misfurtvDM, CHAPTER U. ■f h« Spoilwl ChilJ, - . • ■ CHAPTER III. Idl«D«M and Gluttony, CHAPTER IV. Tba Choice of a School, • CHAPTER V The Chrinlian SoUool, • CHAPTER VI. Brother Angelus, CHAPTER VII. The Conrereion, . - - CHAPTER VIII. The Grammar LeMou, CHAPTER IX. Prejudice Orercome, CHAPTER X. Ocoertxae Devotion, • CHAPTER XI. TU Sick Stranner, CHAPTER XII. Unlooked-for Discovery, - CHAPTER XIII Airentares of Louie Milon, - CHAPTER XIV Ceaclosioa, . . . • U as 71 •t ill IM i4to IM ltd ft04 »9 r 4 FEW WOllDS mOM THE TRAKiLATCl. At the preMoi moment wheD the whoU Oatbolio world U Rwaking to the vital faBportanoe of Mcaring a religious edTM» tkra for tbo rininj generatioti, it seemed to me that this little worV might do % great deal of good, and T have haatily thrown it into an Eagliah form for th« benefit of our own people, both parenta and chikireD. Let both read, the child- MB !br amusement and the parenta fct imtnietion, and let the latter reflect ^.1 J 22 BENJAMIN. who lived in the country near Chate- laudren, and came only to spend the winter months in Saint Brieuc. So it happened that the mother and son were separated during the greater part of the year. What a grievous sacrifice this was, and how great a trial fo- poor Nicola ! How hard was the lot of our luckless Benja. min! What a precarious situation was his, poor little fellow, who was scarcely six years old, deprived of the tender care, and wise counsels of his father and mother ; admitted through compassion into the house of a stranger, an opulent merchant entirely occupied with business, and who forgot that such a person was in existence, before be was live min- utes under his roof! What was to become of Benjamin amid the crowd of clerks and w(. ing people that B E N T A M I N . 23 filled ihe house of the merchant! Some were shouting, others swear- some singing, and others again Clacking rude jokes, hut all were busily employed. Benjamin alone was doing nothing, and he stood look- ing at them all, with a sad and heavy heart, and the big tears rolling down his cheeks. When any one, passing by, addressed him in a loud, coarse voice, he blushed and knew not what to say. Alas ! the voices around him were very, very different from the mild, fond accents of his gentle mo- ther. With his little head full of such thoughts as these, Benjamin watch- ed his opportunity, and stole away when the men weie not minding him, to the porter's lodge, where there had been a little bed prepared for him m a dork corner. OHAPrBK II. The porter with whom our llitU Benjainiii was now hKlgeil, liail been forty years a soldier, aiul dur- ing that long course of time lie had become hardened in iniquity. The people of the house called him Father Bomb, and by that name he was known far and near. He was of a gay and lively disposition, and his life was pretty nearly di- vided between drinking and singing BEX. 7 VMITT. 25 This old man io-k a great fancy to Benjamin, whom he called his lit- lie comrade." But alas! the friend- ihip of such a man could only lie fatal to a child of that age, and the consequence ^vna that little hy lit- tle he taught him to like what he liked, and very soon uprooted wliat- ever principles of virtue the pooi child had acquired from his virtu- ous parents. He even left ofT saying either morning or evening prayers, which he had till then hcen so punctual in doing. When once he abandoned God, it was all over with him, for God gave him up to his own wayward heart. Hearing ev- ery one about him swearing and cursing, he too began to swear, and seeing bicKering and quarrelling all aiound he soon became rude and refractory ; in a word, the company 26 BENJAMIN. \nd the pernicious example of Fath. er Bomb totally destroyed his inno- cence, and planted in his heart the germ of every vice. Whit a fearful change was that-, Benjamin, so young and inexperi- enced, without strength to resist se- duction, moved rapidly on in the way of destruction, and became to- tally depraved at an age when it is 80 much the more dangerous to imbibe evil propensities, because the first impressions made on the mind are ever the deepest, and the most difficult to efface. All the mer. wound the house had at first thought Benjamin a very awkward boy, and laughed immoderately at his bash- ftil air ; but wlien once he began lo imitate themselves, they declared him "a charming boy," and their praises incited him to go still greatei B K N J A M I N 27 lengths. Unhappy cliild ! every- thing around conspired to effect hia ruin. It so happened that the monstrous vices which Benjamin contracted, were not those which belonged to his own age. To the vices of a man he only wanted to add those imperfections and bad qualities pe- culiar to childhood, and this he failed not to do, having a model for that too. Mr. Delor, the rich merchant, who was the owner of the house, had a son about seven and a lialf years old, named Meriadec, who had been with liis niollier 'or llie last two months at a ' shionable watering-place. The, ?re now expected home every duy. At last they came, and Benjamin was stand- il^ at the door of tlie pewter's lodge. BENJAMIN. t8 when the carriage drove into iho court-yard. As soon as Menadc' could get the carriage-door open, he jumped out, to the inuiiineni danger of • his life or Unibs, and knocking down, in his hurry, one Df his mother's waiting-women who had come out to receive her mis- vress. He had caught a glimpse of Benjamin, whose face pleased him, and s he was all impatience to speak to him. " Who are you ?" said he, ab- ruptly. *< Benjamhi Milon." " Where do you live 1 " •* Here in the gat^-house." " Ah ! with old Bomb." " Yes." " And your father 1 " « He is dead ! » sobbed Benjamin. " Oh ! you must not rry so ; " re- KJ""^^ UEN'JAMIN. 29 Bumed Meriadec, and lie hugged him in his arms. But Benjamin cried more and more. " Don't cry, now ! " continued Meriadec. " Do you hear me *? I won't have you cry ; come with me ! " So, taking Benjamin by the hand, be brought liim straight into the parlor, Benjamin making no resist ancL, as one may well imagine. You see, Uttle Meriadec was what is called a spoiled child, accustomed to do his own will in all things, and to govern every one about hi'xi by those authoritative words : " 1 will have it so." In other respects, he had, as we have seen, a very good heart, an exceedingly sensitive dis- position, with a great deal of candor and ger erosity. Yet all these goo<' qualities were very uncertain, and v.'ere far overbalanced by his fault* 80 BENJAMIN^ His affections were ardent and sud- denly formed, but tliey died away just as quickly, for Meriadec wa» fickle as the changeful wind. He was a sort of little tyrant who must be obeyed without a murmur, who must be constantly amused, with- out ever wearying or complaining, and no easy task it was to keep him in temper, so capricious were his likings and dislikings. When he entered the parlor he had Benjamin by the hand, as al- ready related, and his mamma in- quired who the little boy was. He answered, without looking at her, « He is my friend." Whereupon Mrs. Delor smiled, as she cast a scrutinizing glance over the shabby apparel of the new friend. She then obtained from Benjamin an account of himself and his parents. AL. BKVJAMIH 31 " My child ! " said she to Men- tdec, " your friend is very pretty, but wretchedly clad. Just fancy, now, if any one came in p d saw him here. And then his great, heavy shoes— why he cannot wall: on this floor without slipping." "That's all very true, mnmma, but then Pni going lo aspberries ! Oh, give them here!" cried Meriadec, springing up, and trampling under foot the ponchinello, the hounds, and the carriage. "Here, my son, eat them now. t4 BIMJ 411111. 1 know they will refresh you. See how fresh and ripe they are ! " ^^ Mamma) where's Benjamin's •hare 1 »' "My dear love, that is all wo could obtain this evening. To-mor- row 1 shall send for some for hiir too." " But, mamma, he could eat them very well to-dp *^ould you not, Benjamin? Yc *hem, don't you 1 " "Why— yes But then — if there is none for me." " Oh ! there must be some for you. Mamma, you must get some for Benjamin, or I won't eat one of these." "Mv child, he shall have some to-morrow." "That won't do— he must have them just now — this very minute." BBNJ41IIII. •• •* It is quite impossible. There ve none to be had." " But they must be got." "Come — come, my son! — eat your fruit! You are in need ot bomelliiiig after your long journey, and I know you are fond of rasp- berries." " And so is Benjamin He must have some too." " Well ! then, give him •ome of yours, Meriadec!" " Oh ! not at all !— I couldn't do that." "Then, let him wait till to- monow. They are very scarce juft now." " I assure you, mamma, there are plenty to be had. Please to send Julietta. Do now, my dear, sweet mamma— do send — PU be much 36 BENJAMIN obliged to you, and so will Benjtu rain, I do assure you." Mrs. Delor knew not how to re- fuse her son, whose obstinate en- treaties she set down as a proof of his goodness of heart. Alas ! how many mothers are there who thus turn the faults of their children into virtues ? So she yielded to his en- treaties, and Julietta was sent out with orders to search the whole tow^n, if necessary, and not come back without the raspberries for Ben- jamin. On this condition, and on this alone, Meriadec consented to eat his fruit. Julietta returned, after a good deal of walking, with a little basket of raspberries, which had cost fifteen pence. Meriadec was well pleased to see them, and with his own hands, he sweetened and pre- pared them for his companion. - i— ^ Mj rsry BENJAMIN. SY When night came, Benjamin slept in the same room with Meriadec, because the latter sturdily declared thai he would not let hini go away. !llii H T^^^^I CHAPTBB Hi. ^ItlmsB anlr d^lnttniq. The attachments which iisuallj spring up between children, unless they be based on relierion, are ahnost sure to become the source of mis- chief, each bringing into the con- nexion only faults and failings, and bad example. Hence we sliall not set down as real friendship the close intimacy which was so quickly formed l)etween Meriadec and Ben- ianiin« an intimacy which entirely IIF. VTAMIN 1«* depended on the incessant caprice of the foripsr, and the servile ohe- dience oi the latter. Yet were the consequences fatal to both, for each acquired some vices nom the other. Meriadec, constantly flattered and humored by his new friend, L e still more violent and overbe* .j,, while Benjamin, being incessantly provoked and irritated by Meriadec's insatiable caprices, and depending on his support, which he was al- ways sure to receive, imitated the young gentleman's conduct in every particular, and to every one except him, he was insolent, cross-grained and ill-natured— he who had lately been so mild, so humble, and so pious. He had now become dis- agreeable, turbulent, vain, idle, and to crown all, a glutton! Wliai \ sad change m a few months ! \ "' ^i il 40 BENJAMIN. Oh, my children ! — you wlio read his history, I ijiiplore you to profit hy liis example ! You see how ra- pid is th*» descent to evil, and how easily we are drawn away by the torrent of passion, when yo\ith and inex}>er'ence prevent us from seeing other the dangers to which we are exposed, or the fatal consequences of contracting evil habits ! In the constant dissipation of Ben- jamin's new way of living, he scarce- ly ever found a moment's time to tliink of his kind mother, whom he had so tenderly loved. Yei this was not surprising, for he who wilfully neglected the best of fathers — his Father in heaven — could not be ex- pected to remember his mother. It is one and the same law which com- mands us to serve God, to love our neighl>or, and to honor our father i! It L. BENJAMIN. 41 and mother; and he who violates one commandment is ready and willing to break the others also. So Benjamin thought no more of his mother, or if he did remember her for a moment, it was with little oi no affection, and only till somethini.' else took his attention. But with Nicola the case was far different. Every day the poor mother became more anxious about the health, and still more about the conduct of her son. In her restless solicitude about him, she imagined him exposed to a thousand dangers, and tormented herself with appre- hensions for the little ingrate who troubled himself so little about her. But so it ever is with the affectionate heart of a mother, wearing away her very life with care and anx- iety for ber child or cinldren. It ii i mM\ •J ;I4.1| nl^ 42 R E N J 4 M I N not easy to describe the impatience with which Nicola looked forward to the pe iod of her mistress's rel urn to the town. But at last it came ; the firet appearance of winter waa the signal for departure. No sooner had they arrived in town, than Ni- cola hastened to the house of Mr. Delor to see her belnved child. He was just then in the yard, dragging a little sleigh over the crust of ice \.?hich had gathered on a small pond. Just as his mother entered, the ice gave way, and not being able to get his sleigh along as smoothly as he wished, he fell into a passion, and swore a fearful oath. Nicola, thunderstruck, could not believe her own ears. Could it really be her Bon, her own Benjamin, who had uttered that blasphemy? Could it be iiim who was lugging a way so n E N J A M I s . 43 violcnlly at the sleigh, Wis whole face intiained with passion? Alas! what a discovery ! Her son was changed into a little fury— a hlas- phemer ! Meantime, she went up to jum. The joy of seeing him again made her forget for a moment those dan- gerous faults which clumce had re vealed to her; she thouirjit of notn- ing— felt nothing— but the delight of embracing her child. Benjamin, taken by surprise, was really over- joyed to see hia mother, ami testi- fied the greatest afl'ection for her, ardently returning her caresses, and weeping with joy as she herself did ; in short, he seemed suddenly restored to his own natiuai dispo- sition, and Nicola I'^rgoi that she had seen him so dilTerent. Those moments were all too short to ca- I u RRNJAMIlf. ii ress and fondle her child, and to enjoy the deh'ght of seeing him still 80 loving, and she willingly post- poned her censures and reproaches till some other opportunity. Having talked with Benjamin for some time, his mother went to thank Mr. Delor, and to ask his permis- sion to take iier little boy home with her to spend the remainder of the day. The merchant, of course, wil- lingly agreed, hut it would not have been so easy to get Meriadcc to consent, had he been at home ; for- tunately he had gone out with his mother. Benjamin was very glad to go home with his mother, and he was received by Madam Dubac with (Treat kindness. That good lady was very old, yet she .11 loved children, and was always pleased i i| BENJAMIN. 4A to see them. Before dinner-lime came, she gave Benjamin a cake and some sweetmeats, which he devoured so greedily that both his mother and lier mistress observed it. Alas ! every moment discovered some new fault in Benjamin, and his mother was overwhelmed with grief. At one time, she caught him smirking and smiling before a glass, admiring his fine dress, for he had put on his best clothes to go with his mother. Again she found him lolling lazily on a couch, look- ing as indolent and as listless as though he had been all his life ac- customed to luxury. And there he lay, half an hour at a time, yawn- ing and stretching as though he had been tired working. When his mother called him, and told him to do this or that, he either stoutly 46 BENJAMIN. refused, or if not, he obeyed her with a sullen look, and tlic worst possible grace. Nicola was both angry and af- flicted. " Alas ! " said she to her- self, in the bitterness of her heart, " Is this tlie same Benjamin from whom I parted scarcely twelve months ago? Oh! no — no — he was far, far different — he had many good qualities, while in this boy I can see nothing but vice. Ah! unhappy woman that I am, to be the mother of a blasphemer, of a child addicted to anger, to gluttony, vanity, idleness and disobedience ! I who hoped to see my son adorn*\! with the virtues of his poor fntlier, to find him now tainted with w many vices ! Ah ! why do I live to behold so sad a sight, — and so BEKJAMIN. 4^ mounifnl a prospect for both liira and me in the time to come ! " These comphiinfs and lamenta- tions, so far from softening Benja- min's heart, only nnnoyed and turearied him, just as one might ex- pect. The young rascal coolly made up his mind to go off with- out saying a word, and return to Mr. Dolor's house. Accordingly, he stole out, while his mother wa^ engaged with her mistress, and he had got as far as the court which separated the house from the street, when the fresh sweet sniell of fruit attracted his attention, and lie knew that the desert was being pre- pared. A door at one side was open, and, looking in, he saw no one, whereupon he was tempted to enter. What a sight was there for a glutton. There were several i- ' I i 1 11 E.il« 48 BBMJAMXir. plates filled with the most exqui- site fruits of the season, and in the centre stood a large cake, very nice- ly gilt and decorated, and looking altogether so tempting, that it made his mouth water. Alas! must it be confessed tliat Benjamin could not resist the temptation. Without pausing to think of the enormous crime he was committing, nor of the possible consequences to his mother, he filled his pockets with tiie ci»oico>t Iruita, and then, taking up a knilo, he cut out all the mid- dle part of the cake, leaving the crust behind ; by this plan he hoped that his theft iniglit not be iii-cov- ered, at least lor some time. Having secured his booty, he slily left the place, but, instead of going back home, as he had at first in- tended, he went towards the bridge, rf nENJAMI5. 49 10 as to foast at leisure on the siofca dainties. For tliis purpose lie se- lecieil a retired spot where no one would l>e likely to disturb him at his repisi. Indeed, he made such quick work of if, that there was not much time foi interruption ; it was little more than the work of a min- ute to swallow pears, apples, and all the rest. Till then, he had only one thought,— the greedy desire of hiding his prey ; hut, when all was eaten up, and that there was noth- ing more to do but digest it at leis- ure, he began to reflect that his crime must soon be discovered at Madam Dubac's, and that, in all probability, they would send to Mr. Delor's to inquire about him. His fears were well founded. His departure was soon known, and al- most as soon, was his theft found J I 5 I , ■ if 50 BENJAMIN. out. His mother was overwhelmed with grief at tlii? last proof of her ion's wickedness, and, the worst of •ill was, tliat she knew of no means likely to reclaim him. As soon as her mistress had dined, she hurried away to Mr. Delor's to look after her unhappy child. Let us now sec how Benjamin had passed the intervening time. Having wandered for some time on and about the bridge, he was seized with violent pains in his stomach, which, being overloaded, could not digest such an unusual quantity of food. He turned pale OS death, and his face was bathed in a cold sweat. His sickness drove away all his fears, and he resolved to return home, even though hia mother were there before him. Bu the had not yot arrived. D E N J A M I N 51 When lie appeared before Father Boinl), his old friend, liis face pale, his eyes dull and heavy, and his strength totally gone, tlie old man made hini go into the lodge, and drink a couple of glasses of wine. But that only made mailers worse, for the weight of the liipior and its fermentation in the stomach, in- creased the unhappy child's disor- der, and he wns laid on the bed almost senseless^. It was at that moment that his mother arrived, hut her indignation soon gave place to the keenest anx- iety, when she saw him in such a condition. She easily guessed how matters were, anil saw at once that this was a just punishment of Ben- jamin's gluttony. And truly the punishment was a very severe one, for, nouvithstanding all that could I 1 J 1 i ! > it ' H f ■Jil : 'i\ ea BENJAMIN. be done, his stomach was not ro lieved till the middle of the night. Even then, the unhappy little cul- prit continued in violent p'jin, the necessary consequence of his intem- perance. At length he fell asleep, and his poor mother returned to her mistress, just at two o'clock in the morning. ^^ 11 lAik CHAPTER IV. ft? I, ■jiti af a lrl)DDi. N1GO1.A never "closed an eye all tliat night, for the grief of her heart, and the bitternes? of her reflections would not permit a moment's rest. A thousand anxious thoughts press- ed heavily on her mind. She could no longer hide from herself the numerous faults which her son had contracted in the house of Mr. Delor ; faults which, if left to them- * . I I U ' Ill' 64 BENJAMIN. hidnoiis and destructive passions. It was, ihcrcfore, absolutely necessary lo pluck ')ul the evil by the root, and for ihiii purpose it would have been the best and safest course to remove Benjamin from his present abode. But then, where was she to place him ? Madam Dubac was far from being wealthy, tind, besides, it ^^'\' not likely that she would admit the boy into her house after what he had done. Nicola, thus circum- stanced, could only make the best of the means within her reach, but, what she could do, she, at least, did promptly. Next day she went to see Mr. Delor. Having given him an exact account of all that had passed on the previous day, she added : " You see, sir, that it is high time to put a •top to these evil propensities. 1 Jl DBNJAVIV. 6fi know you wish Benjamin too well not to second the intentions of his mother whose hope is to see him grow up nn honest man. I do be- lieve that his present vices all spring from idleness ; for idleness, you know, sir, is said to be the mother of all vice. Will you then please to employ him, were it only for a few hours in the day, in going er- rands or any work of that kind 7 I hope you will also allow hirr to go to some free-school, where he may acquire good principles, by means of good advice and good example. When once he begins to get a taste for learning, he will do better. The only thing that can save him now is a good, Chrictian education, and from it, I have every hope Do not refuse to give me your ad- vice, as I hope to have you' assist- t € rl Li ik . * &6 BKN J Alim ance in tiiis, to me, most important matter. Tliis, sir, I expect from your generosity, and I implore it from your compassion ; it will be the completion of your great kind- ness to me and mine." Mr. Dclor listened very atten- tively. *' You really anticipate my own wishes," he replied, "for I had been thinking somewhat of sending Benjamin to school, though I must own that I had latterly for- gotten all about it. I am so over- powered with business ! — Be assured, however, that I will attend to this matter, now that I am reminded of it." "Oh! sir, you are too good! — How can I ever thank you as I ought *? Surely my child and my- self will owe you an endless debt of giutitudc ! " lift- BairjAMiir. 51 I "To-morrow — not a day later — if our little patient is well enough I will take him myself to school, and introduce him to the director." " How very kind you are, sir ! " " And I have reason to expect that my recommendation will have a good deal of weight — at least I hope so 1 " " I do not at all doubt it, sir." " You see, my good woman, I am a member of the Society for Intel- lectual Emanci'pation^ a correspond- ent of the Association for the Pro- pagation of Intelligence, also one of the founders of tin Committee of Gratuitous Instruction , a regular subscriber to the General Agency of J^ational Education, and to the Philanthropic Union of the friends of new methods of Elementary Teaching You see, Nicola," add- I a v. 1 hi I : i I'T U B) 1^ ■■ I ife' D8 BKyJAMIK. ed Mr. Delor, drawing himself up with an air of great dignity, " you see I am many ways entitled to the privilege of sending your son to our free sciiool. Kver since its esta- blishment, in which I was very in- strumental, I have had the right to send six pupils, because 1 pay six hundred francs annually lo help to support the institution. Of course a man like me is boimd to do some- thing for his fellow-citizens, and for his country. I assure you, it costs me upwards of a thousand crowns every year of my life subscribing to the various societies of which I am R member — it really does ! " Nicola made no answer for sl»e was lost in tliought. She did not understand the one-half of the big words which Mr. Delor had spoken, but she understood ihi« much,'t)iat ill fr n K N J A M I I« 59 in the long siring of names she had insl hoard, ihore \v!is not a word ahoul ihc Scliool of ihi* Christian Broihers of Si. Yon. DoiiImIcss Mr. Dc\or had forgotten it. I« never once occurred lo her thai a gcntle- nmn whoconirihmed so much every year for the purpose of promoting education amongst tlie people, could overlook a broiherhood entirely de- voted both by duty and by zeal lo thai arduous and laliorious work ; u brothel hood which has done such incalcidable good in France and in every other country where their schools have been established ; a body of men so res])ectable for learn- ing and for virtue, and so conscien- tiously devote 1 lo their onerous task; a body, which, far from falling in the public estimation since its re-es- tafclishneni under the Emperor Na- t .! t •JSL i^au^ayMk. 60 BENJAMIN. poleon, has never ceased to lueru and to obtain the eulogiiims of all good men. Nicola was in the habit of regard- ing Mr. Delor as one of the nios* estimable men in St. Brieuc, so she, of course, considered him a friend of the Brothers, although he had not included their school in his list. Unfortunately, such was not the case : very far from being a benefac- tor of the Brothers, Mr. Delor was their active, and inveterate enemy. He was precisely one ( ' those men whose knowledge belongs exclu- sively to their own peculiar state, or profession, and of any thing beyond that, have not even the most com- mon information. By means of cer- tain fortunate speculations he had amassed a gigantic fortune, and thereby obtained a high position in =ri BKNJAMIK ei the world. He was known to be an honest man, and iiis strbiUty was beyond a doubt. In a word, he had a very fair reputation, but aUhough successful in his undertakings, and respected in his public capacity, he owed it neither to education, nor to any superiority of genius. When it became necessary to think on cer- tain subjects, Mr. Delor required ready made thoughts, and in order to discuss certain questions he must always have some suitable phrases prepared beforehand. Now the ideas and expressions aforesaid the good gentleman usually selected from his favorite newspaper. But of course poor Nicola was entirely ignorant of the fact that there is a very nu- merous class, of men who, like Mr. Delor, draw from the columns of the daily papers the opinions and I 11 I I w ;, I i I 63 BKNJAMIN s I' 11 ^1 ■ 1 m fl ii seniinuMiis of wliicli tlie\ make 8ucl» a pompous display. Tlie siniple- hearteil woman knew nothing of the nefarious mtUience of the press on modern society ; of the press,— thai great auxiUary of the tumultuous passions whicli divide us ; that inex- haustible source of errors, of sys- tems, of the innovations which inundate and control the world; of the press, too often the organ of calumny and slander— the vehicle of impiety and anarchy. It was the reading, then, of cer- tain journals, and their continual declamations against every thing connected with religion, above all, their virulent and unjiut attacks upon the Institute of the Christian Brothers, which had inspired Mr. Delor with a profound aversion for them. He haled ihem on the faith Il 819 J A M I n «S of an editor, witlioiu fronM.ng hiin- gelf to inquire vvli i were \ leir real deserts, or whothei the * bill' »• inveo tives so often huuiclieii ag^ainst theni) were well-founded. Hence, when Nicola mentioned t-ieir school to him, he knit his brows, coiiipressed bis lips, and began to Iod<: very, very grave. ''Sir," said Nicola, "I don'i know any thing about the schools you have named; I dare say, they are all very fine establishment s, sinct^ a gentleman like you is pleased to encourage them, but I hare strong reasons for deciding on placing Benjamin under the care of the Brothers.'' *' . Jnder the care of the Brc thers i — wiy -urely, Nicola, you would not tbiok of doing that? — Now, H 'Jl 64 BIKJAMIN. would you really send Benjamin lo the Brothers' School ? ' " Why yes, sir, of courst; [ woulil, and I don't know why 1 should not." How! what! — why, my worthy woman, we want to put down that school if we possibly can." " And might I ask, sir, for what reason." " In the first place, because they only form the children into bigots, while we want good citizens. That is the main point, you see!" ^' But, sir, it seems to uie that a true Christian is always a good citi- zen ; thai religion, which makes a sacrifice of every thing dear, has produced too juany courageous, dis- interested, anil patriotic men, not to be the best and s bed as their costume is ridiculous ! " "I cannot think as you do, sir. If the appearance of the Brothers is a little grave or so, it is, at least, de- cent, and just what becomes teach- ers who are to command respect and obedience. With respect to their dress, it is that of their Order, and a very decent dress it is too. Permit me to tell you, sir, that these objec- tions are very trifling, indeed, and cannot weigh much against the Brothers." H Si: 6 BENJAMIN. " The devil ! " muttered Mr. De- lor, with a forced smile, " I see they have in you a very warm advocate. But what will you say, Nicola, when I tell you that children learn nothing in their schools, and only Just spend their time there for noth- ing. What do you ^ \y to that now, and I solemnly assure you that what I tell you is quite true." " What do I say, sir ? " "Yes — that's the word! — let in hear now ! " " I say, sir, that you are entirely misinformed, and that of all other schools, those of the Christian Broth- ers are the best regulated — they are those where children make the greatest progress, where they receive the best principles and where they see the most excellent exomples. Such was the opinion I heard given BENJAMIN. 67 lately at our house, by tlic Inspects of Primary Schools, who is a rela- tion of my mistress." " Bah ! your Inspector of Primary Schools is little belter than a fool," said Mr. Deloi, testily. "The Brothers are retrogade teachers, who would fain arrest the progress of in- telligence, if they ])ossibly could. Their Institute belongs to a by-gone age, and is far short of the standard required at the present day. Their course of training, you see, is very much restricted, and their rule, which never undergoes any change, shuts Uiem up in the narrowest possible circle, from whicli they can never emerge. You may easily under- stand that when they cannot keep up with the progress of the age, they are forced to fight against it. I «^ ta 0k.y J 4 v r«. i I'hat lA tue '■eal faU, and cannot be dt^nietl/' Before Ni^oia xulJ think of an answer a visitor was announced and great was her joy when she saw the Inspector of Primaiy Schools enter and make his bow. Mr. Delor re- turned the salute rather coldly, and motioned to his visitor to take a seat The Inspector was a man of staid demeanor and a singularly benevo- lent countenance, and when his eye fell on Nicola where she stood mo- destly in a corner, he smiled and nodded to her : " Why, Nicola, you here 1 — Is it possible 7 " " Yes, sir," said Nicola, dropping a low curtsey, " I came to see about getting my little boy sent to school. You know Mr. Delor here has been ID kind as to keep him ever since — fince my trouble began." BENJAMIN. 6* " And only think," said Mr. De lor, " she wants to send him to the Brothers' School ! — What an absurd idea ! — I would as soon send iny boy to be taught by a company of mad- men! — Now what, may I ask, it your opinion of tliese Christian Schools, as they are called 1 " Though Mr. Delor was not alto- gether unprepared for the answer he received, yet it evidently took him somewhat by surprise — " Since you have asked my opi Dion of this Institute, Mr. Delor ! ] must candidly inform you that 1 look upon it as a real blessing to so ciety. It was undoubtedly a very holy and a very benevolent idea tc form a society of men, poor, virtu ous, and learned, entirely devoted tc the purpose of bestowing gratuitous instniction on the children of the I 11 1 1 Ml fin I lis' hi 70 BENJAMIN poor. That, I think, may really be called progress, though the peojile who now use that wo»"d so often never thought of instituting such a society. And, what is more, if they had, they would be almost sure to spoil it. It is only religion that can create such establishments, so lasting and so flourishing, because leligion alone, setting aside self-interest and ambition, converts their toils and pri- vations into works of merit. All die world knows that they have nothing earthly to gain, and much to suffer, so that no one enters upon the task but those who have placed their treasure in heaven, and there expect their reward. At the time wh.en this heroic brotherhood waa formed, and began its labors, the whole of France was overrun with ignorance and vice. Both of these ( R K N J A M f ir . Tl peat evils they counteracted, by dif- fusing religious instruction amongst the masses, and they have done more than any other human institution to enlighten and civilize the people. It is very strange to hear them every day accused of being opposed to the progress of intelligence, seeing that for more than two hundred years, they have stood alone, unpaid, and unaided, overcoming many obsta- cles, and braving no small persecu- tion, lighting the torch of primary knowledge amid the darkness which surrounded our unhappy people. — *But again,' say those who call themselves exclusively the friends of progress, ' the Brothers have a rule which they can neither change nor violate; what they taught two hundred years ago to rude, unpolish- ed people, they pretend to teach f ' JLi 72 BENJ AMIN now, when the world is so fai ad- vanced in civilization ; they know nothing of the peciUiar wants of the period ; there they are, standing stock still, never dreaming of keep- ing pace with the new systems of learning, hut sticking fast by their old jog-trot method, leaching in the same old way, and the result is — nothing ! ' But this contemptuous reproach is far from being deserved. The pious founder of the Christian Schools made choice of an approved method, the best in use at that time, and, after all that can be said against it, there has been none better in- vented since. The best proof of this is the unanimous approval of the world for two hundred years, the brilliant subjects it has formed, and does still form ; in short, there is no system of teaching now known to BENJAMIN. 73 U8, which has not borrowed some- thing from that of the Brothers. So much for their method. Then, as to what they teach, it is very true that their rule only prescribes read- ingy writing^ and arithmetic, to be taught gratuitously to the children of the poor. But every one knowi that as soon as industry and the arti became more general amongst us, and that a more enlarged system of education was required, the Brothen solicited and obtained from the Pope lispensation from that particular ar Icie of their Institute. For seve- ral years past, they have classes in all their schools for Grammar, Ma- thematics, Geometry, Book-keeping Jindent and Modern History, and Linear Drawing, Now, sir, I know not how you can call them retro- rade teachers. a" y» 74 BXK J AMIH. Mr. Delor had not listened very patiently to this long defence. He coolly set the speaker down as a fool, and therefore unworthy of an answer, since he could not hope to convince him. "So, Nicola," said he coldly, without seeming to notice what the Inspector had said, " I suppose you have made up your mind to send Benjamm to these excellent Broth- ers whom you and this gentleman praise so highly 1 " "Indeed I have, sir. My poor husband, who was brought up by tliem, told me to do it, and I am bound to obey him. It is also my own wish, because I know it is the only chance for making Benjamin once more a good boy." " Very well, Nicola, you can, of course, do as you like. You are the rs I ^ BENJAMIN. 75 absolute mistress of your son and cnn dispose of him according to your prejudices nnd fantastic notions. I, llierefore, give him up to you, and must heg that you will take him away this very day, for I will have no one in my house who has any- thing to do with those men." Having thus spoken, he turned away, and passed into another apart- ment. Poor Nicola had never dreamed of such an ending to the conversation, and she burst mto tears. A moment's reflection served to con- vince her that it was better to see Benjamin deprived of Mr. Delor*s protection, than ruined by his kind- ness, so sh>e made ip her mind to leave the matter to the guidance of Providence. ' n Li' n I . CHAPTER ?. €^ (Cjiristian J^ilnnL The parting of Benjamin and Meriadec would liave been no easy nialter, in fact all but impossible, had it taken place under other cir- cumstances. But when Benjamin learned that Mr. Delor had ordered him out of his house, without any fault of his, he felt himself highly insulted. Meriadec calleil after him : " Come back, I tell you— you shan't go!" but he took no notic^, and diking hold of his mother's hand. . i mk K H J A 11 I K . 77 walked away with her without once turning liis head. But it is one thing to coininand th«j firmness lujuircl in an emer- gency, aiid anoth(>r to remain firm in tlie resohition then taken. Ben- jamin had just given a proof that when occasion required it, he could make a resohition, and exercise more than a little self-control, hut he was no sooner in the street than his firm- ness gave way, and he l^egan to cr^ bitterly for leaving a house wiiere he had lived in idleness, and luxury, and free from all restraint. Such was the home he had lost, hut what was his new one to be ? And very similar were the reflec- tions of his mother. The unfortu- nate adventure of the cake was too recent to permit her to hope any thing from Madame Duhac. And ii 1 78 E V J A M I N. the event justified her apprehen- sionsj for when the old lady heard of what had occurred, she solemnly declared that such a little vagabond should not enter her house, and that his mother must make some arrange- ment to keep him away altogether, if she wished to keep her situation. This was not very Mattering to Benjamin, but his conscience told him .lat it was just what he de- served. This was the first time that he felt himself disgraced by his own misconduct. As for his poor mother, she knew not what to do. She must either give up her situation or find i place for her son, and it would take all her little earnings to pay liis board. Nevertheless it must be done, for she had no alternative. There was a poor cariienlor in the town, named BENJAMIN. 79 Rose], whom lier husband had for- merly employed. Rosel was an honest, good man, with but one fault, that he was somewhat hasty in his temper. His wife, the niece of an old priest, was a very mild, pious woman, having three little children whom she was bringing up in a truly Christian manner. All hings considered, this house seemed to be the very place of all others that suited Benjamin, so Nicola went at once and agreed with Rosel, sti- pulating that before and after school, the boy was to be emi)Ioyed in some work adapted to his age and strength. This important point settled, she took Benjamin off to present him to the Brothers. Although Benjamin was old enough to he able to read, yet his education had been so totally ue- M1 iHl 80 B R N J A M I N . ! I I I i i I glected that tie knew not one lettei oi" the alphabet, a circumstance which humbled him very considera- bly, for he had no small share of self-love. He immediaiely resolved that he would try and learn, so as to get rid of the disgrace of being igno- rant. This was the only motive *hat could induce him to l)oar the 'edicus confinement of the school, 16 who was so capricious, so self- «irilled, and so fond of play. Be- sides he as yet knew little or nothing of what a school really was. When Nicola rang the bell at the Brothers' school-house, Benjamin's little heart began to beat violently. They wore at once introduced to the Brother Director, and to him the anxious mother related all that con- corned her son, without either palli- ation or disguise. While his mothci la BENJAMIN. 81 was speaking, the little fellow kept his eye on the ;alm, still features of the Director, who with eyes cast ijown, and hands joined together, silently listened to the long recital. " You see, brother," added Nicola in conclusion, ^^ you see this child is lost, if your charity and good in- structions do not change his heart, for it has become a very bad one He has unfortunately become so wicked that there is great reason to fear for him both here and here- after." " Alas ! Madam," replied the Brother, in a grave and penetrating voice, " we are well accustomed to see the children who are confided to us, infected with numerous vices, and having many passions to be re- fisted. God is the master of hearts, and He alone can change them. 82 DENJAMIN. Let US both pray to Him, that He may bless our exertions, iind crown them with success. For us, we are but the feeble instruments of wliom he sometimes luakcs use to work out his benevolent designs ; so that, though we of ourselves are nothing, we are yet all-powerful by the grace of God. How many miracles do we every day i>erform ! — Of tlie two hun- dred children who attend our school, almost everv one was more or less spoiled by over-indulgence at home, and there are scarcely two alike in character or disposition. 'I'liese chil- dren, so impregnated with all the vices attendant on ignorance and low vulgarity; so hardened in iniquity imbibed from the example of tlieir parents, must necessarily be, when taken collectively, one mass of cor- ruption. Is it not then a miracle of BENJAMin. 83 grace to see, the greater number of them renouncing the past, reforming their lives and shunning the pestif- erous atmosphere in which they had previously hved ; to see theui even 'jccoming good and pious ; and ex- amples of virtue in their respective spheres. — Who can be so ungraleful, no unjust, so impious as to deny that this is the work of an Onmipotent God] "All, Brother!" said Nicola, " how much trouble must it cost you, before you can bring about such a blessed reformation! What watch- ful care is required, and how weari- some it nuist be to struggle ever and ever against the evil passions of the children ! " *' I tell you again. Madam ! that if it were not for the grace of God, our cares, our nic^ssant watch fidness, M BENJAMIN. and our zeal would all prove inetfec- lual in surmounting ihe obstacles thrown in our way uy the pupiU themselves, and still more by iheir parents. It veryuflen happens that the latter, who, l»y their fatal cxair- pie, have helped to corrupt their children, do still continue to counter- act our exertions by their criminal mdidgence. They condemn our se- verity, heap ridicule upon us, and then blame us when their children turn out badly. Unwilling to admit that either themselves or their chil- dren were lo blame, they throw the whole fault on us. Now the truth is that this counteracting influence of the parents, and their imprudent censure of tiie teachers in presence of their children are the greatest ob- ■tacles in the way of thei. improve- ment. When will parents under- BENJAMIN. 85 Stand that we assume tlieir place, and that we love their children in Christ Jesus, as they love theui ac- cording to the law of nature 1 When will they be persuaded that as their second fathers, we must have the love, and respect of our pupils, if they themselves would be loved and respected by them ? Would to God that these truths were more generally known, and their importance better understood ! " "Brother!" said Nicola, "I, al least, am aware of their importance, and in confiding my son to your :are, I not only promise you every assist- ance I can render, hut 1 give up all my authority into your hands. My most ardent wish is to see Benjamin profit by your instructions, and be come a good boy." " Oh ! he will," said the Brother i m hi ."ii fi I 60 BENJAMIN. " I will answer for him. Will vou not, my little friend," he added, taking Henjamin's hand between both his, " Won't you be very wise, and very attentive for the time to come?'' Benjamin made no answer, but sat witl) his head hanging on his chest, and twisting his mouth into all sorts of shapes. He looked for all the world like a criminal in the stocks. The Director repeated his question in a mild, sweet voice, and then came ou» the half-pronounced words slowly and hesitatingly: " Yes — Brothtr.^^ As far as being attentive went, he really inlended to keep his promise, but to promise to be wise ! — Oh ! that was (juite another thing, and he had never yet attempted to think. Meanwhile, the Director contented BENJAMIN. 87 himself with tlie promise he Imd gul. He coiuhicled Nicola very politely to the door, still holding BenjainiD hy the hand, and when she wui gone, he look tin? new pupil to pre- sent him to the Brother who was to be his teacher. Of course henjnmin was placed in the first class, hecansc he had to learn his letters. There was fifty or sixty hoys in the class, t)iu they were all so much younger and smaller than our licnjamin thai he looked like d little old grandfathei amongst them all. Besides there were some of them that could spell very well, and others were hegin- ning to reail, so that he was the only one at A, B, C. Truly he had great reason to feel mortified and humhled to the lowest degree. But he was not without the means of consoling himself. " These fellows," said he, 11 m 5-5 08 BENJAMIN to himself, " have nil le;»i tied well, but I'll learn Ijetter than any of them, and unless its very hard to '^et il into my head, I'll soon get before them all." This idea was very agreeable, for Benjamin had a great fancy for be- ing the best \nt\n on every occasion, 80 he quietly took his place, at the foot of ihe class, looking very funny indeed with his head and shoulders up over the others, who were spell- ing and reading so well. One of the children having deserved some slight punishment, sturdily refused to submit. He was then punished more severely than he would have been, but still he remained obstinate. Our Benjamin, looking on, was so angry at tiiis disobedience, that he could scarcely restrain h'mself. At BBM J AMIir. 89 ^ust, when he saw the hulc robe! ftaiiding out so obstinately ngninit his teacher, he could bear it no longer, and giving way to his natu- ral iinjietuosity, iie juiM|>ed to his feet, and called out : " Wili you obey now, you rascal — will you, I say"?" Instantly, the boys all burst out laughing, and the master himself could scarcely preserve his gravity= The laugh was raised louder and louder when the fiery Benjamin, levelling a whole rank of the little fellows to get at the offender, laid hold of him by the ear, and hauled him up to the Brother. This incident gave rise to a great deal of confusion. Benjamin, of course, knew nothing of the rules of tlie house, and that was his excuse, but the Brother soon made him ac- ml ■-i.i ■r;l u. MICROCOPY RESOLUTION TEST CHART (ANSI and ISO TEST CHART No. 2) 1.0 I.I 1.25 ■ 2^ 1^ |3j2 1^ IS u Ih III 2.0 ■iUU 1.4 1.8 1.6 _^ APPLIED IM^GE Inc S^ ^65^ East Main Street S'-a: Rochester. New York U609 USA '^SS (716) 482 -0300 -Phone BBS (716) 288 - 5989 - Fax } 90 B E N J A M 1 K . >uainted with them. He premised very faillifnlly to observe them, but ho was so hasty and so impulsive ihat he very often forgot both him- •elf and tlie rules. This first row was not the only one he kicked up in the school. Nevertheless he was so attentive and so anxious to learn that his whole mind was bent upon it, and he was thereby preserved from man^ foolish tricks, and escaped a food deal of censure and punishment We may here observe, for the be- nefit of our little readers, that they have it always in their own power both to please their masters and im- prove themselves. Application and love of study surmount all obstacles. It is even sufllicient, if one be well convinced of this truth, and make lome attempts at putting it in prac* BENJAMIN 91 rice. We earnestly entreat the chil- dren for whom we write, just to make a lesolution that they will try to apply themselves like Benjamin, who we hope will soon serve as on example for them in other matten •8 well ea in this one itilti OHAPTBB Tl. Benjamin went on as well as could be expected, and indeed far better. It is tnie that he was still turbulent, quarrelsome, and some- times even rude to his class-mates ; nor did he agree better with Rosel's children. He was still sly and mis- chievous, playing numberless tricks on the neighbors all around. In short, his faults called loudly for cor- rection and reformation ; but, on the ji\ BKKJAMIV. 93 other hand, there was not in all the school a boy more attentive to his lessons, or more anxious to learn. So rapid was his pi ogress that '.it the end of some seven nr eight months he was able to read pretty well. In this respect he was always held up as an example for the other boys, and this public praise so flattering to his self-love, encouraged him to re- double his exertions. The conse- quence was, that at the end of the school-year he was at the head of his class, just as he had promised himself that he would be. But alas ! he had no prize to get, for as he had been quite recently removed into a new class, he was of course far be- hind the others. When the distribu • tion came on he was quite enraged. "Oh! if I had only got into this class three months sooner than I I 1: 94 BENJAMIN. 1 i did!" said lie to himself as he saw each prize given out, "you would not liave had that, my good fellow ! " But he had nothing for it only to be as resigned as possible. During the short vacation given by the Brothers — it appeared a very long one to our friend Benjamin ! — he made good use of his time, spend- ing two or three hours every day in going over what he had learned, so as to keep it in his mind. The remainder of the day, he was employed by Rosel to help the children with whatever work they had in hrnds. It was then that Benjamin's evil passions were most active, and there was not a day ever passed that he had not a quarrel either with Rosel or some of his children. If the father was absent, Benjamin always came off victo n B N J A M I It . 9ft rious, and l>eat the three httle broth- ers; but when the father was at home, the tables were turned on hun, and he was sure to get the worst of it, for Rosel was not I he most pa:ient man in the world ; and by way of capital punishment Ben- jamin had to dine and sup on dry bread. Nor was it only within doors that 'he little pugihst carried on his warf c, for he very often returned home with tiie marks of conflict plainly visible, in the siiape of a black eye, a scratched or bruised face, or clothes torn anil dirty. These pranks were not unknown to his mother, who went to see him OS often as she couki, and each time she saw him, she gave iiim a long lecture, but all in vain. Tliis was the natural efTect of the early train- ing" he had received, as first impres- 'M I §6 BKNJ AMIK. sions are ever the most durable. Yet stiU his conduct was a little bet- ter, just so much as to aflbrd a sha- dow of hope. Be did not swear at all so often as he used to do, and he soon got over the fatal habit of lying i he had no opportunity for indulging in gluttony at RosePs frugal table, nor could he at all practise the same affected airs in the carpenter's work- shop that he us-^d to exhibit in the splendid saloons at Mr. Delor's. In sliort, Benjamin gradually grew out of those bad habits which he had con- tracted in his late luxurious home, and there only remained those which were natural to him. Yet even these were numerous — very numer- ous, and as constitutional and cha- racteristic vices are more tenacious, it requires a greater degree of energy and a stronger resolution to keep BIN J AMIV. VI ilium in order, or obtain a mastery over them — Benjamin had not as yet attained that degree of perfection. The classes were to commence again on the 1st of October, and on that day, Benjamin rr'- .v!tb tlie lark, and was the first jr the school-room. Brothei as, his master, nmt him in ihe yard, nd was not at all surprised to see hiiti so pimctiial, for he was already aware that there was none of the boys more assiduous in fulfilling his duty, nor more anxious to profit by time. The Brother had been long ago struck by his prodigious memory, his very imiisual strength of intellect, and his extraordinary love of study. He had also remarked Jie extreme violence of his passions, and his great impetuosity. Brother Angelui from his long experience, knew chil- hi" 98 BENJAMIN. (Iron wril ; nnd \\o. was persuaded that Benjamin, willi all his strange mixture of vices and virtues, would one day do credit to liis teachers, botli OS a scholar and a Christian, provided he were now properly trained. All depended on taking him in hands, and losing no oppor- tunity of forming his mind, and this task the good Brother cheerfully took upon himself. He began by gaining the confidence and affection of his pupil, and that was not hard to accomplish, as Benjamin being really an obedient and respectful pupil, desirous of learning all that he could, was naturally disposed to love his teacher. And how well did that teacher deserve his affection ' Brother Angelus was about thirty years of age. He was tall and slen- der, and his mild, pale face was full BENJAMIN 99 of sweetness, being the rotlex of his spotless soul. His face was shaded on either side jy light, silken hair, and his eyes had that deep, thought, ful look which belongs to such har- acters as h. His manners ere polished and gentle, just fitted to gain for him the good will of child- ren. His mind was richly stored with learning, which he well knew how to impart to others. To him- self he was rigorous in the extreme, but to others he was kind and indul- gent. Great and arduous and inces- sant was the labor he had to undergo, but his patiepcc and his cheerfulness were proof against all attacks and an sufTerings, and nothing could disturb the serenity of his mind. In a word, it would have been difficu t to find a man more truly estimable under every point of view, or better adapted to •"•^w^ ^f» 100 BEIT J A MI fulfil the sacred and onerous func- tions of his office. Benjamin then had taken a great liking lo Brother Angel us, who on his part took a sincere interest in the wayward boy. Yet their affc;ction was of a very different nature, and had very different objects in view. The pupil regarded his master simply as a learned and an engag- ing man, who was to initiate him into the secrets of knowledge, and thus gratify his predominant passion. The master, on the contrary, justly distrusting a desire so inordinate, which was founded solely on pride, was sensible of the importance of giving his mind a proper tendency, R,nd basing his education on sound principles. He saw that unless his minu was early trained an J accustom ed to . salutary restrair.t tiiere was it BENJ AMI M. 10) lillle hope for liini in the future. He knew that wilh such e\ il propensities as the hoy then h«iJ, any knowledge which he might acquire, without tii« sanctifying nnil refining influence of reliffion, would he in all prohahility more hurtful than heneficial to soci- ety from the great superiority of his talents. This conviction placed him on his guard, and, being well aware that Benjamin would always he sure to make a rapid progress in his stud- ies, he attended chiefly to his moral training, giving his most sedulous care to the development of his affec- tions, and the directions of his senti- ments. Yet the good Brother did not al- ways meet with that success which he had a right to expect. Anothei 8chool-)^ear gilded away without pro- ducing any decided improvement in (02 BEKJAMIK iti Benjamin's character. It is true he was greatly chahged, so far as out- ward appearance went. He was then entering on his tentli year, and from his size he might well have passed for a boy of thirteen or fourteen And then his intelligence was far in advance of his age, for his natural talents being seconded by the closest application, he had long since out- stripped all his school-mates. He had indeed many advantages pecu- liar to himself ; such for instance, as an excellent understanding, a certain i fliring turn of mind which prompt- Ud him to examine every subject that presented itself to his mind, and finally, a happy knack of only bur- thening his memory with what was really worth retaining. Hence it was that with him learning any thing was the direct exer:ise of his judg- BENJAMIN. 103 Dient, based on tlie desire of acquir- ing kiiowledge that was really valu- able. Willie his comrades committed to memory a string of mere words, he fathomed and laid hold of the ideas they suggested. It was for in- stance very little for him to learn a few rules of grammar ; he must also compare them with all those which had any relation to them, and assign to eacli one its place in the funda- mental precepts of the language. In a word, he made it a point to study every thing in all its various bearings. It may well be imagined that a pupil thus distinguished attracted considerable attention at the public examinations, and that he obtained more prizes than any other boy in bis class. It excited no small surprise to hear a bov who twenty monthf 104 BKKJAMIK. before, when he entered the schoOi knew not a single letter, now an- swering every question so clearly and correctly. In fact people would scarcely believe it, as I am just going to prove by an incident which occur- red about the time we are speaking of. If Benjamin had his faults, he had also many virtues, and amongst these was gratitude. He had never for- gotten Mr. Delor's kindness to him, and he resolved to testify his lively gratitude in a way that should con- found that gentleman's prejudice against the Brothers. Mr. Delor's birth-day was the feast of St. Man- rice, the 22nd of September, and Benjamin thought he would give him a surprise. Without saying a word to any one, he wrote a complimen- tary note in his very best style. Be- tides that, as he knew a little of lineal BBKJAMIN. 105 drawing, he undertook to ornament the note with a view of the front of the merchant's house, and he sue- ceeded to admiration. At length St. Maurice's day came, and Benjamin, as well dressed as his scanty ward- robe would permit, presented him- self at Mr. Delor's door, and timidly asked to see the master. Being in- stantly admitted, he presented his note and his drawing with a trem- bling hand. The merchant exam- ined both with great attention, and then asked whose work they were, but when Benjamin modestly replied that they were his, he could not be- lieve him. He then began to ques- tion him, and after half an hour's close examination, declared himself perfectly astonished at the progress he had made. All those prejudices ■gainst the Brothers and their method I' i:' f ! PI '• 100 BENJAMIN. of teaching which he had adopted from the newspapers, suddenly gave way hefore this incontestible fact, yet Mr. Delor, Hke ail those who wilfully shut their eyes ngainst proof, would by no means give up hi? opin- ion. Still, he was deeply touched by this mark of respect and attention, and willingly took Benjamin back into favor. '* Here, my little fel- low ! " said he, " here is twelve francs for you. I am well pleased with your attention to your studies, as proved by the progress you have maue. You can come and dine here during the vacation. Go on as you are doing, and depend upon my friendship ! " Benjamin was overjoyed at having 80 large a sum in his purse, and still more that he h-ad been restored to the good graces of his benefactor. =1 B&K J AMIX. 107 He chiefly valued the invitaticn he had received as afTording him an opportunity of becoming reconciled U) Mrs. Delor and Meriadec. But they were then at Vichy, where they always spent the month of Septem- ber, for the purpose of drinking the ^ater. The worst of it was that by he time they got back, the vacation would be over, and poor Benjamin obliged to return to school. But after all the prospect of going to school again was to him a pleeim one, for his numerous prizes were all 80 many new motives of encourage- ment. The life of constant appli- cation which he had latte»-'y led, had considerably repressed, if it had not entirely extinguished his passions. Brother Angelus had been an active agent in this great struggle, helping ^im to combat all those internaJ .1 if 108 BEKJAHIN. enemies, and avail himself cf every opportimity for reforming his morals. As for Benjamin, he wanted only the slrengtli and tlie grace to make a firm resolution, and that the good Brother tried to bring about. But unfortunately he could not give his whole t'.me to any one pupil, since all had the same right to liis care and attention. Never had the labor cf teaching been greater than it was that year, for the number of pupils in- creased to nearly three hundred, ex- clusive of the adult evening classes, and they were nearly as numerous. And there were no more than three Brothers for nearly six hundred pu- pils; so it can easily be imagined what a laborious life was theirs. They became fairly exhausted with fatigue, and Brother Angelus, who was naturally of a delicate constitii BKN'AMIK. lOf tion, was speedily attacked with a pulmonary disease which set in with very alarming symptoms. He was at length forced to give up his wea- risome labors, and content himself, until the arrival of a provisional sub- stitute, with keeping an eye to the class and hearing the catechism. This last duty brought him closely in contact with Benjamin. Being obliged to give long explanations so as to make the children understand the meaning and catch the spirit of the fundamental precepts of religion, he sometimes entered into little dia- logues with his pupils on those sub- jects, in pursuance of his own pur- pose. Though my young readers might derive much profit from these inter- esting conversations, yet I shall not attempt to repeat them I shall ^'■ii P i> ■ mm no B1NJAMI9. merely show in the following chap- ter the subject matter of one of the most important. By Benjamin at least it was never forgotten, for it was that very dialogue that opened his eyes and chiefly contributed to effect a change m his sentiments — a change which though not very per- ceptible at flrst, was doomed to bt permanent and sincere. m aHAPTBk Vli $i^ EcformatioQ. Brother Angel us was explaining the thirteenth lesson of tiie Cate- chism which teaclies that t/ie surest mark of a firm purpose of sinning no more, is to take means to correct evil habits and to effect an entire atange of life. This important subject led to a discourse on Conversion, or llie Sin- ner's Return to Goil. Tiie pious teacher profited by the opportunity to exi)lain to his youthful hcarert 112 D E N J A M I N. tliat Conversion, in order to be lasu iii»(, sliMuKI be prcmpi, sincere, an«l entire ; prompt^ because tlie sinnn.T, while separuted from bis God, abuses liis daily measure of grace and may thus draw do vn upon himself the wrath of Heaven ; bec.iuse it is the part of a fool to remain indilFercnl to the danger which surrounds him ; ecause it is the most fearful rashness lo continue in a state of sin, without making an effort tc overcome it. Tlie conversion must also be sincere^ dial is to say without any lurking regret for the life one has (piiited, and without any disgust for titat just entered upon ; without dividing the heart between God and man; be- t ivecn duties and pleasures ; between religious practices and bad habits. Finally, the conversion should be entircj that is to say, a -eturn of the BKV J AMIir. lis i^hole heart to God, with all its feel- ings and affections, an absolute sa- crifice of all earthly attachments, a complete detachment from the joy> of the world, and rending asunder all the bonds of sin. Going on to speak of the difficul- ties of conversion, it was very easy to prove that by far the greater number, such as the violence o»' the passions, the force of bad habits, and the predominance of vicious inclina- tions, were not insurmountable, with the grace of God, and the firm reso- lution of giving up the heart to Him. With respect to the other ob- stacles, such as the shame of chang- ing the course of life, hesitating about undertaking it, putting it oflf from one time to another, the dejec- tion arising from the first fruitless efforts, all these Brother Angelus 114 B B N J A M I M. m ft if! considered as very triding obf'acles, and very easy to surmount. " Bo. sides,'' he added, "these difficuU ti***. my children, ^:ome not from God, as you see very plainly. They are our own work,— the natural con- sequence of our neglect of God, of our ingratitude towards Him, and of our departure from Jus service ; they are the effect of our corrupt inclina- tions, and the vicious habits in which we live. It is we ourselves, then, who have erected a barrier between the Lord and us. It is we who have fortified that barrier, surrounding it with all that could make it strong and insurmountable. God has had nothing to do with this senseless and criminal deed, so that the blame is altogether our own. On the con- trary that good Father has never ceajcd to call us back with out- n B N J A M I N 116 itretclied nrms ; and when he nt lost averts his fac? *"rom us, it is because we have audaciously |)ersisted in of- fending Him. Such being the case, how can we dare impute to Him the obstacles which oppose our conversion." Having thus explained the diffi- culties of conversion, Brother Ange- lus proceeded to show his pupils the best means of getting rid of them. The (Irst and surest is to keep a deaf ear both to the promptings of our own weak nature, and the perfi- dious suggestions of the arch-enemy, which by exaggerating the sliame and the trouble of a return to God, exposes us to lose the grace and the desire of conversion. The second, perhaps just as important, is to make choice of a wise and prudent director ; to lay open to him the secrets of the 116 BKNJAMIl*. heart ; to follow his advice in every particular, and to obey his orders without pausing to examine their meaning, for lo him it belongs to fathom the depths of the soul, and apply the remedies proper to its various diseases. Thirdly, we must always accustom oiirselvt;s to walk in the presence of God, frequently pronounce his holy name, and those of the Virgin and 'he child Jesus ; to make the sign of the cross very often, especially when attacked by temptation, and finally to raise the heai. *o God by some ejnculatory prayer. These practices of devo- tion, simple as J^ey are, cannot fail to produce the happiest results. "Try them, my youiiir friends!" concluded Brother Angrfus, " Re- turn to that God who i o good, and •o merciful. Detest that portion of ■H I BENJAMIN 11' your life which has not been conse. crated to Him, and put off your con- version no longer. And, after all, what is this conversion 1 It is living as a Christian should, becouiing a worthy child of the Church and a faithful servant of God, in thought, in word, and in deed. Yes, my children, a Christian is one who be- lieves and professes the law of Christ. And is not this just what one does when sincerely converted ? He recalls to his mind the belief so long neglected . From being a trans- gressor of the law he becomes its faithful observer, and once more his soul is filled with the precious vir- tues of faith, hope, and love. Ah ! children ! do, I implore you, have the courage to be Christians ! Re- turn to the paternal embrace of your good Father in heaven. Make a i Wbm mk t itSI H^S i' » t. rr jii 118 BENJAMIN firm resolution to reform your lives, to struggle against your ftiilings ; to acquire the virtues in wliicli you are deficient. Do this, and you will find how sweet it is to love and serve the Lord. How I should like to se«s a holy emulation established amongst you ! for, be assured, that he who first resigns his heart to God will be the happiest of all ! " Such conversations as this could not fail to produce a lively effect on the minds of the listeners. Even the most careless and dissipated boys were deeply touched, and their con- duct underwent a wonderful change. In fact the whole school was sud- denly metamorphosed, and it waa a sight worthy of heaven, to see a hundred little children displaying the most angelic piety, and the most Mssiduoas application, watching care- 1 !fii BENJAMIN 119 Ailly over th^ir every action, and consei^raiing to God both their toils and pleasures. But there was none amongst them all so remarkable as Benjamin. No longer wa? lie obstinate, quarrel- some, or refractory ; but mild, mod- est, patient, civil and polite to every one. Following implicitly the ad- vice of Brother Angelus, he placed himself at once under the direction of a discreet confessoi, who taught him, by degrees, to subdue his pas- sions and to root o'lt all his evil propensities. He continued to ap- ply himself more closely than ever, and his success was, of course, pro- portionate to his application, but his intentions were no longer the same. He was no longer actuated by self- love or by the vain desire of excel- ling others ; a sense of duty waa M a ,#}! i :A': 130 BBN J All IN. : I' lif now his motive of action, for he had found out that the first of virtues is the exact fulfilment of the duties of Oiir state, and that, wiiile fulfilling them, we show' . ever have the intention of beconn'ng better and happier. Yet the entire conversion of our young hero was not effected without many severe struggles. He found it no easy matter to ente. upon a new course of life, entirely opposed to all his previous habits. Many a time was he driven back by the force of habit, and so often did he find his good resolutions inefifectual, that he began to despair of ever being able to effect the desired reformation. But Brother Angelus was near; Brother Angelus who saw his posi- tion, read his inmost soul, and in- Hpirefl him with renewed energy, the BSK J JlHIV. 12i effect of new and more sanguine hope. And at last Benjamin iu- umphed over all, and, taking for hi? model the divine child Jesus, he endeavored to imitate Him, and to grow like Him, as the Scripture says, in wisdom as in age before God and man. How rejoiced was Nicola when she thus saw her most cherished hope realised ; — how her heart bounded with love and with grati- tude when she at lengtli beheld {"it son all that she could desire, all that even his father could have wished ! How fervently did she thank God for having bestowed upon her such a signal favor, and liow ?' ap- plauded herself for having \ Aed in sending Benjamin to the Brothers! She had now the consolation of see- ing her son every day, as her mis- ti''i ■ M 123 BENJAMIN tress had become so infirm thai she could no longer go to the country in the summer. Moreover, she liad soon the gratification of seeing Ma- dam Dubac take quite a fancy to Benjamin, w'lo had indeed become very attentive and respectful to the old lady. As soon as liie school was dismissed, instead of running olf lo play as he used to do, he now went straight to his mother, to help her with her work, oometimes he read for the old lady (who had become nearly blind) either a chapter of the Imitation of Christ, or the life of me Saint to whom the day was con- secrated. By this means he soon became a favorite with Madam Du- bac, whose affection for him grew every day stronger, till at last she could not spare him even for one day, and requested his mother to L !=-T-rTP5r BENJAMIN. 123 bring him home to livo with ihem. This was a joy fill I it'ariiiff for Ii IS mollicr, wlio had been obhgeil to spend the greater pjirl of her carn- mg paymg ins i>oaru. Denjaniin, too, was well pleased with this new arrangement, and he thanked God for having inspired Madam Dubac with so benevolent an idea. He could not help reflecting on the dif- ference between a bad and a good child ; how the one is despised and detested, while the other is caressed and loaded with kindness. And this thought should excite all children to endeavor to gain the aflect'on of every one about them. t n CHAPTER VIII tf jiB (0raniinar Inmu Benjamin was not slow in avail- ing himself of Mr. Delor's invitation, and he regularly spent the Sundays and Thursdays, indeed all the holy- days at his house. He found Meri- adec just the same proud capricious boy he had ever been, but still warmly attached to him. He was, therefore, kindly welcomed by his former comrade, who told him in confidence that he was very un- ^ JIK . '■■-■.V,- .■,.J.\i-'\.a-.- -r^ JUl BIN J A M I N. ISA happy. His father iiad engaged a master to instruct liim in elementary science, until such tunc as he '\'ai okl enough to gr ") college. Meri- adec wanted to have no master, but for the first time, his will was dis- puted, and it was his father^s turn to say " You must ! " Meriacieo had at first tried to tire the master out by obstinate disobedience, but bis master was a very severe man, and gave him many a good drubbing to enforce his commands, so that here again Meriadec was told you must do ity and had nothing for it but obedience. For a month past, as Meriadec sadly complained, he bad been obliged to do what he was bid, and he was fairly sick of it. Still he dared not disobey, for hit fiither had told him sternly that he would be obeyed, and the master, ni 196 BB W J A MI N. on his side, never overlooked u sin* pie faiiit. The hickless Meriadec lipted most cordially the lessons which he could not understand, and the professor— who, having been accustomed only to teach advanced pupils, took no trouble to smooth the way for a child's first steps in learning. It generally happened that flie child did not un- derstand one word of tho instructions he received, for the master just talked to him as he wou.d to a grown up man of finished education. The consequence was that the more he taught, the more confused did the boy's ideas become, for he under- stood neither the words, nor the sub- jecls, nor their connexion with each other. At last poor Meriadec des- paired of learning anything, for sev- eral months had passed and instead ,„.^.J-;.^..L.I-LU...... ,1 BBir J AMIW. l&f of making nny progress, he found himself completely bewildered, ani! his mind one gloomy chaos without a ray of light. His father, thinking that the fault was still his own, treat- ed him very harshly, and threatened still greater severity for the time to come. Every time that Benjamin went there he found Meriadec in tears, and had to listen to a long string of grievances, in the shape ?f severe punishments which he had to under- go since his last visit. It was in vain thit Benjamin tried to adviae him, and to explain some of the most difficult parts of his lessons; these explanations might help him in those particular lessons, but iicn the morrow was sure to bring still greater difficulties. In order lo get over all these obstacles, it was agreed I iffll 11 ti 188 B 2 R / A M I N . between llic frientis tliat Ben ninm slioulcl begin iinUnown u any Inn llieniselvos a regular course of in- struclions, for Benjann'n was well ac(|uaiated wiih the first principles of mathematics, grninmar, and linear drawing, and liiesn were all that Meriadec had atteinpled. The se- cret lessons were at on •« commenc- ed. Meriadec listent. ^ocility and attention, and, for ti 'me, understood what lie heard, lor his young te?cher was methodical, and precise, and very simple in his lan- guage, making use of no scientific terms. In three or four lessons, Meriadec learned the principles of the four first rules ; mysteries which four months of hard labor with the aid of a first-rate master, had not enabled him to understand. Tiiifi first Riep gained, hi next •'i: I. -^-^-vv.r ,-: ^ ^mp 'V^WtT. B EN J A MIK 19f learned ihe elements of linear draw- ing. Thanks to the geometrical terms used by his master, lie had Bot the slightest conception of what wni, ncant by surfaces^ lines^ and points ; now, he not only learned all that in a few hours, but it came so easy to him that he was quite surprised and delighted. Tlic recti- linear figures^ the quadrilaters, the polygons, and all the other abom- inably hard words which used to frighten him so, became very pretty, and very easy words when once he was made to understand their exact meaning. It was just the same with the grammar ; of which Meriadec knew nothing whatever, except a string of names, and a few definitions which he had learned by rote, without one idea as to thr"r Tieaning. I will jusi : ■Irl 130 BENJAMIN give this interesting scene as Benja min gave it, because I know it will be very useful to my young readers, and also to show Benjamin's method of teaching. The two friends were sitting in a pretty summer-house at the farther end of the garden, and who should be lying on a sofa in the other little room but Mr. Delor, who had been sleeping until the sound of the voices woke him up. After listening for a few minutes, Mr. De- lor became very much interested, and listened attentively to the whole conversation. The lesson commences.* Meriadec—HcigUol This is Uie day for that abominable Mr. Lho^ • Children may be made to commit this /it- tie Kene to memory, go that they may repeat it at the examination, with some trifling sJter. •tionc im B B V J A M I N 131 mond, who has so often tormented me with his nonsensical grammar, and I'm sure he might as well be talking about magic, for all I under- stand of it. Benjamin. — Perhaps the fault is not altogether his. We are now going to consider the general struc- ture of the language, and then after- wards we'll come down to the par- ticiilar details. It is important to consider grammar in its general out- lines, for when they are well under- stood, all the rest is easily learned. First of all let us define grammar. Meriadec. — Grammar is the art of speaking and writing correctly. Benjamin. — Well ! speaking and writing are very common things ; but, you see, they become an art when we speak and write correctly, that is to say, according to the rules ; t I.- ^i 182 BENJAMIN. of grammar. Before we go on to these rules, let us consider the char- acters or signs used in lliis art — these, you know, are called letters. Meriadec. — And there are '.v^ sorts of letters, vowels and consonants. Benjamin. — You must remember that the five vowels, or letters whirh have a perfect sound of their own, 0, u and then there a'-e are a. e, t, two others, w and y, which are vow- els when they begin a word or syl- lable. The other letters are all con- 8onants, or letters which cannot bo sounded without the aid of a vowel Meriadec. — Oh ! I know that very well. And I also know that these letters go to make words, and words to make phrases. The worst of it is, that I am not able to explain how all this happens. Benjamin.— And yet there is noth- BEKJAMI9. 133 >!: irg more easy. For example, in the plirase : / love God, the letters /, I, o, V, e, G, 0, d, when put together, make up the words / love God, and the three words form a perfect phrase or sentence. Meriadec— Ah ! 1 understaL now. With the letters /, A, e, c, a, i, in, e, w, 5, I form three words the cat mews, and those three words make a sentence. Benjamin. — Just so. All senten- ces are composed of words, and all words of letters. We are now going to distmguish three things : 1st. the Utters, or the vowels and consonants, of which we have spoken ; 2nd. words ; and 3rd. phrases, of which we have yet to speak. Meriadec. — Ah! 1 must pay at- tention, so as to understand it all. Benjamin.— The words of every in > !f *,, 'if «ii=: H. ft i> 'I ■. i J 4i- 3r ■ 1 ' ■ Vi 134 BENJAMIN. i,' i I-- ill language aro very niunerous, and proportionate to the requirements of those who speak it. They are con- ventional signfj *'.e called a BENJAMIN. 135 robbery, or a theft. The various waiits of life will also receive names, such as, eatings drinking^ sleeping, &c. The feelings will also get con- ventional uames, lliev will be called love, compassion, Sac. The 'iiflerent actions, springing from the feelings will be named, weeping, playing, rejoicing, &c. In short, every thing receives a name, and that name, once given, will pass every where like ready money, taken at the given value, because every one gives it tiie same meaning, and employs it in the same way. Meriadec. — And that is tr^e. The weather in winter is said to be cold, and it is called so every wh'^re. So in summer it is said to be nnrm- just the same here as in P />. Benjamin. — Exactly so, /r/ It is )ii8t the same with everj wv d in f^. m 1 m 136 BIKJAIIIK. the language. But there is anoiliei remark to be made, and a very im- portant one it is too, for it contains the whole secret of the art of gram- mar. Words, whatsoever they may be, were not invented generally, but to express an action or a state of being. Thus, the words of wliicl) we have been speakir^, express llie action of buildings stealings eatings drinking^ loving,, weepings pitying^ rejoicings &c. Those words which imply no action, are used to point out, or to qualify the person who performs tlie action, or to determine the manner in which he has done it. So, in your phrase " the cat mewsy^^ there is the action of mewing, the name of the creature which performs *hat action, and the article the point- ing out the particular cat of which you speak. BENJAMIN 137 1 Meriadec. — I imderstaiut all thai. But is tills rule general 1 Benjamin.— 0( course it is. E fen if you compose sentences for a whole hour, you will always find in each an action and a subject performing that action. Meriadec. — Let us see now ! — My coat is torn. Now, there is no action there, is there 1 Benjamin. — Do you think so? — Now, I'll prove to you that you are mistaken, for there is a state, which is a past action. An action may have been done in time past, or it may be done at the present time, or is to be done in the lime to come. In that phrase of yours : the action is already done, my coat is worn. Only you do not say who or what has done it. Add that much to it, n 188 B R N J A M I 5 . and you will see the whole train of ••he action. Meriadec. — Time has worn my Iress — / have torn my dress. I de- clare it is true— I see the action and til now. Benjamin. — Yoii see there is a past action. And that besides the subject time which has done the ac- tion, there is also the thing- on which it was done, the coat. That which performs the action is called the no- minative or subject of the phrase ; and that on which it is performed is named the objective or object of the veru. Now give me an example. Meriadec— Paul tears the book, Paul does the action of tearing, so he is the nominative or object of the sentence ; the action of tearing is done on the book, so it ' the objective^ or object of the verb. BENJAMIN 139 Benjamin. — Very well indeed. You now understand liow it is that words are composed of letters, and sentences composed of words. You must remember that a sentence nmst contain al least two words, in order to make sense ; lliese words are, the subject which performs the action, and the verb which expresses the action itself, whellier it be past, pre- sent, or future, as: the cat mews, Paul team, time wears. You see plainly that each of these phrases makes a perfect sense. When you want to add another idea, you have only to put in another word, which is usually the object of the verb. For instance ; the cat meivs loudly Paul tears the book, Time wears the coat. You perceive that according as you extend the sentence, your own idea wll be the more fully de- fi 1 fill ;irr 140 BENJAMIV veloped. So if you go on adding words, the sense will become the more enlarged : The cat meiv^ h Hy in the gutter, Paul tears the book with fury, Time gradually wears the coat. Meriadec. — So then the most com- plete sentence is the one that has the greatest number of words — is it not 7 Benjamin. — Not exactly. The words are not necessarily placed one after the other. The best construct- ed sentence is that which expresses the idea in its full extent, with the fewest possible words ; that is to say an action with its subject, its object, and the manner in which it is done ; in short all the circumstances which present themselves to the mind ai accompanying an action. The sub- ject, the verb, the object and each BKNJAMIV. 141 of the circuinsiances lo be expressed will rccjuire the use of one or more expressions so as to rt^niier the idea complete. Meriadec. — That is all very natu- ral, but somehow I never Mnderslood it before. Will you just make it plainer for me, by an exainjile? Benjamin, — With great pleasure. Paul is in class ; he has been pun- ished, and he tore his book for spite. There, you see, is an action — a book torn. Who did it? Paul. Where was it done 1 In class. How was it done? For spite. Why was it done? Because he had been pun- ished. Thus you perceive that the fact and aii its circumstances are related in a dozen words. Meriadec. — Very true. But then there are many actions mentioned there* first there is being in class. r' 1 ' if I •a; if t 142 B E N J A M I y . and then heiiig punished, thtii !»»•- iiig ftiigrv, and last of all there is tlie tearing of the boo!;. Benjitvitn. — Your remark is just. But sju'eeh is like painting : it would be ridiculous to paint the arms, the legs, the body, and the head all sepa- rately, in order to represent a man ; so, it would be juj»t as absurd to re- late a fact by taking all its circum- stances separately. The human mind, which is so rapid in its ideas, could never bear the tedious repeti- tion of many small sentences, when one suffices to express the whole. Mcr{adec.—0\i ! tluit settles the point. But I thought that" a sen- tence could not contain several Mords of the same kind, and here we have no less than three verbs : to be, to punish, and to tear. Benjamin. — ^You were mistaken, * ,1 11 ■ ^ Mi 4 1 B K K J A M I N. 149 then. The same word cunnot, of course, be brought twice into the same sentence, for tliat is strictly forbidden ; but tliere is nothing to prevent us from employing words of the same kind as often as we find it necessary. So we can have two oouns, two verbs, two pronouns, &c. in the composition of a phrase. Meriadec, — And might one put all the ten parts of speech into a sentence ? Benjamin. — Why not? Such a sentence is rarely, if ever, seen, but ■till it might be found. Meriadec. — Dear me! I should like of all things to hear such a curious phrase as that would be ! Benjamin. — I will, then, try to gratify your wish ; but, first of all, let us define the ten parts of speech. Do you remember their definitional lyi ^\ 11 . m 144 BENJAMIN. ,.j».,. Jtfmadec— Wliy, to be sure 1 do, and it would bo a wonder if 1 did not, after all the dry bread I eat, and all the lashes I got by those same parts of speech. Benjamin. — Will you repeat them, then 7 Meriadec. — The article is a word wliich serves to determine thelkind or number of the thing spoken of; — the noun is the name of any i>erson or thing] — the adjective is used to qualify such person or thing; — the ftronoun is a word used instead of a noun, to avoid its too fre(|uent re- petition; — the verb expresses the action or state of the person or thing; — the participle partakes of the nature of the verb and cf the adjective, being merely another form of the verb, and like the adjective it is used to qualify ;— the adverb BENJAMIV. 146 points out the manner in which the thing is done ; — the preposition serves to connect words, and generally go- verns the object of the verb ; — the conjunction connects the various members of a sentence, and links sentences together; — the interjec- tion is an exclamation which ex- presses the sudden emotions of the mind. Benjamin. — I am glad to see that you understand so much of the gram- mar. It is very important to know the diflerent parts of speech very well, so as never to confound them one with the other, and also to be able to parse well. You will ob- serve that in the ten classes of words which comprise our whole language, there are some which are but parti- cles of words, indeclinable, having but a secondary value in the sea- 146 BENJAMIN. i;. n .h I'i tence, and being without any gov- ernment. Finally, tliere are others which have been classed separately, yet might still belong to that clajsa from which they were first taken: such are participles, which are some- times used as adjectives, and some- times as tenses of the verbs ; and of this kind are also the possess- ive pronouns, which are in reality notliing but adjectives. This will be enough for our first grammar lesson. Meriadcc. — Oh ! but you promised mc a piirasc composed of the ten different purls of spoccii. Benjamin. — True, and I am go- ing to keep my word. Look at the gardener there working in the gar- den. He shall be our subject. Meriadec, — Very good. Go OD now! BENJAMIN. 147 Benjamin. — Let us suppose that I am speaking of the garden, and 1 will say : The old gardener carefully extracts the weeds, and throws them on the ground, c^y^^^ " ./f/flw / " Now parse that sentence. Meriadec. — The a definite article, pointing out iIk* noun gardener; old, an adjective qualifying the noun; gard£ner, ixn^'w masculine, the subject, or r • u, .live of the verb; carefully aj . erb showing how the fact was uone ; extracts a verb active, expressing the action of the sentence ; the a definite arti- cle belonging to weeds ; weeds, a common noun of the plural number, governed in the objective by the verb extracts ; and, a copulative con junction connecting the two parts of the sentence ; throws, a verb ac- tive governing them ; them, a j»cr- ! m is •1 - • f, U Hi?- m 148 BENJAMIN. Bonal pronoun ^being the substitute for the noun weeds) and the object of the verb; on, e preposition, gov- erning ground ; the, a deiinite arti cle ; ground, a common noun ; cry' ing, a present participle ; clas ! an interjection. Benjamin.— ^o\v if you will only remember this little review of the art of grammar, it will be easy for you to remember in what manner the parts of speech you have men- tioned separately may be connected, one with the other. This prepara- tory study ought to be very import- ant for you, seeing that it comprises all the fundamental principles, and also because it will smooth your road when you get fartiier on into the difficulties of grammar. ,A.M^ CHAPTER IX. ^rFJubinj (^mxmm. •I I The lesson was at length finish- ed, and Mr. Delor, who had heard It from the beginning with as much interest as surprise, could scarcely believe his own ears. All his lin- gering prejudice against the Brothers now vanished like smoke before these palpable facts. Benjamin had entered their school without know- ing even one of his letters, and in a shorter time than the very best ma»« j1& .^Bi H ;;- r.!K 150 BENJAMIN teis could have pushed hiin on so far, he Wcos able to teach others. Now, the upshot of all this was, ilmt Mr. Delor found himself most shame- fully deceived. The mist was now taken from before his eyes, and he was too honest not to acknowledge at once the change which had come over his mind, and to disavow those opinions, so very erroneous, and so very unjust, which had been infused into his mind by interested persons who abused his credulity. In his inmost heart he did ample justice to the Brothers, and became on the in- stant their steadfast friend, as he had before been their avowed enemy. As soon as Benjamin ceased to speak, he entered the summer-house, and warmly shook hands with the youthful preceptor of his son. " And, pray, how long have you BENJAMIN. l&l giving him lessons, Benja- oecn minr' "For nearly a month, sir," re- plied Benjamin, timidly. « Well, then," said Mr. Delor, " I owe you thirty-six francs, for that is just what I pay to my son's master. Here is the money, and as I am very well satisfied with your lessons, 1 hope you will continue them. Will you not?" " Yes, sir." *^ I am going to send the master about his business, and Meriadec shall go with you to-morrow to iho Brothers' School." "Oh, papa," cried Meriadec, "how glad I am to hear you say 60 f »» ** My child," said his father, as he returned the boy's caress, "I shall l)e well pleased to have you take n .1 * IP.« R V 5 J A U f V Benjamin for a mode], and profit, as he has done, by the lessons of your worthy teachers." Without a moment's delay Mr. Delor sent in his resignation to the various societies and associations for the propagation of popular instruc- tion, by new and approved methods. He ^vrote a very polite note to the Brother Director, requesting the fa- vor of an early visit from him. "Sir," said Mr. Delo., after the usual salutations had been exchang- ed, " Sir, I have been strangely mis- taken as to the real character of your Institute. I am now completely unde- ceived, and will beg you to take my son under your care, and also to ac- cept the annual sum of one thousand crowns, which I have long set apart for the promotion of solid cdu' cation." i n E N J A M I K . 103 **Sir," replied the Brother, mo- destly, " your frankness is very com- mendable, and your generosity de- serves our best thanks. We shall have great pleasure in admitting the young gentleman into our school, but as for the proposed annuity, we, none of us, can receive it personally, as our rule expressly forbids us to accept any sort of present, or any donation from the parents of our pupils." " How ! you are serving so many others, and are not permitted to serve yourselves? " " And are we not serving our- selves, sir, when we diffuse blessings throughout the whole of society, by devoting our time, our attention, nay, our whole life, to train up the young m the way they should gol Your wish is to promote the cau«»e W|l 154 B E X J A M I N of education, and you are willing to give a thousand crowns yearly for that very laudable purpose; sulfer me to suggest a plan for your con«^ sideration. We have been long seeking the means of founding a second school in this town, seeing that at present there are only three of us to teach, between children and adults, fully six hundred. The task is beyond our strength, and one of us has already sunk beneath it. In your generous proposal, sir, I grate- fully recognize the direct inteij^o- sition of heaven. With your muni- ficent donation, we can realize our intention of erecting u new house^ and at the same time your own wishes will be carried into effect." To this proposal Mr. Delor readily agreed. The Brother-Superior was at once written to, and the adininis ""^ -'"- BENJAMIN. 15d trators of the school in St. Brieuc were duly notified. Measures were also speedily taken to put the pro- ject in operation. The report flew quickly all through the town ; some found fault with the merchant for w'iiT, they termed his new whim; b :. by the greater number his con- duct was warmly applauded, and several others followed his example by contributing towards tlie erectiou of the school-house. Meanwhile, Benjamin, the prin- cipal cause of this happy change, and all its fortunate consequences, continued to edify his school-males by his piety and close application to study. Meriadec was now mort than ever attached to him, since he had become his class-mate, and he in his turn began to grow in know- ledge and in virtue. Every thing m Hi d n If II m IM BENJAMIN went on well ; Ben janiin continued to give lessons to lus friend alter school Imirs, and Mr. Delur, more and more pJeiised wiiii his son's pro- gress, regularly paid the thirty-six francs every month to the young teacher. Tins liheral reiniincratiou soon mounted up to a nice little for- tune for Benjamin, who, having his board and washing at Mr. Dclor's, found it very easy to save the 432 francs which he yearly received. Of his monthly pay he disposed io the following manner : tweuty-foui francs, or one louis, he placed in the savings' bank, and the remain- der he kept for charitable purposes. Such had been the advice of lus mo- ther, who knew, that of all tht Christian virtues, there is none more eflScacious than charity in sanctifying and streng.hening the soul. Charity, n B N J A M 1 V . 167 the most beautiful of all virtues, the duty of the virtuous, an I the deiight of the good ; charity, the divine r pre- cept, and the heart's deep feeling! Nicola wished her son to devote a portion of his wealth tottu' poor, since it was given hiui in pure charity by another. So every month Benja- min had the happiness of relieving some poor snfTerors, and receiving many a ferveiu i.lessmg in exchange (or a few small pieces of money. This was a pleasure unknown 1 e- fore, and it v.us a source of the greatest liappiness to Benj. iin. With what jo} would he bring his little oftering to a feeble o\<\ uu-.n, who lodied ir a wretched garret; how gla iy did he buy some littl*? inedicint or " liolesotnt' nouri>iuuenl for a poor I" sick \\oman, who, hut for liiin, sh did have died for want - i ■^■u ^ h I' t! ^ m .4 MMIl J 58 DENJilMIN. of assistance ! how exquisite was the pleasure with which he weekly car- ried a large loaf to a poor woman who had a family of six young, helpless children, without any means of support! How happy Benjamin was while thus conferring happiness on others ; and beholding the thin, worn features of these poor creatures all brightening at his ap- prrich. He consoled th(;m all, as though they had been his dear friends, and prayed with them and for them, to (hat God who is the dispenser of hope and peace — the treasures of the poor. It is such •cenes as these, so touching and so full of human sorrow, that, when coupled with the performance of the most sacred duty, are the surest means of forming the young heart Co piety and virtue, and hiuuan ten- BENJAMIN 150 dcrness; in short, these are the practices in which Christian parents should biing up their children. Ber^ jainin had his twelve francs to give away every month : other boys may not have so much ; some may have only a few pence to give, but the act will be of the same value before God, and the moral result will be the same. But Benjamin was rapidly ap- proaching an important epoch in his life. He was about to make his first communion, and to receive the sac- rament of Confirmation ; and these .wo great events had long been the «um total of his hopes and wishes. The remembrance of his past sins, and the very small degree of merit which he gave to himself, caused him to shrink from the idea of re- ceiving his God, for he dared not i 11! • M' J.' t 100 u fi K J A M I N . hope to have those holy dispositions which are absolutely necessary for the proper reception of those sacra- ments ; and Benjamin well knew, that on that depended his eternal salvation. Applying his mind, there- fore, to reflect on the inestimable value of the favor he wr.. about to receive in the divine Eucharist, and the responsibility he thereby in- curred, he mentally exclaimed: — " Oh ! my God, grant that 1 may prepare a pure heart to receive thee ! make known to me, oh Lord, nil my offences, to the end that I may detest them ; and I beg of thy mercy never to let me fall agair into sin ! Should I not be the most ungrateful of human beings, if I were to drive thee away by sinning again, after thou hadst chosen my heart for thy dwelling-place, and BENJAMIN 161 deigned to give thyself entirely to me. My God ! my God ! my only fear is that I may lose thee, after having once possessed tliee. Gran that the sanctuary which I am pre paring for thee may Icag be thy abode, and that thou wilt ever re- main Willi me, oh divine Jesua, while 1 live here on earth ! " And these pious aspirations be- came daily stronger in Benjamin's mind and heart. He took all pos- Bible care to prepare himself for r«v ceiving the holy Communion, desir- ing that it should produce the most excellent fruit in his soul. Every day, and all the day, he made an oflering of himself to God. And God accepted the gift of a heart purified by repentance. From the happy day on which our young hero was first admitted to the BENJAMIN. eelesiial banquet, he lived ever aftei a life of sanctity and grace. It was, indeed, a rare thing to see a child so yonng practising all virtues with so much ease. But this was the natu- ral effect of that divine sacrament for which he had been so long and so carefully preparing. Whether in the class, in the church, in the house, or in the street, his modesty and piety were every where visible, enhanced by his great success in learning, and embellished by his na- tural gaiety, his never-failing good humor, and his unvarying kindness of heart. Masters, school-mates, and visitors, all alike loved Benjamin, and he was already treated with a respect which is seldom, if ever, paid to children. And thus was the fore- sight of Brother Angelus fully justi- J t^m n BENJAMIN. 16S fied. Benjamin, with the advantage of judicious training, had become a model for the imitation of youtli. And his example was not lost on his companions, who were inspired with the desire of imitating him in every thing ; so true it is, that if one scabby sheep infects the whole Jlockj 30 one good boy can improve a whole school. Never had the Bro- thers' school in St. Brieiic boasted so many promising pupils ; a fact which was amply proved by the yearly examination, when it came round. The boys, indeed, gave general sa- tisfaction by the promptness and cor- rectness of their answers to all ques- tions, and also by their writing and drawing, of which many beautiful ipecimens were presented. All the ▼ifitors were unanimous in express- J 164 BENJAMIN. ing the warmest approbation. Mr. Delor, in particular, being one of the chief judges appointed to examine the boys, could scarcely find words to express his admiration. At the close of the examination, the prizes were formally distributed by his lord- ship, the Bishop of St. Bricuc. Ben- jamin obtained eight prizes, and Meriadec a premium for grammar, and the second prize for arithmetic. Mr. Delor was very much pleased, and took occasion to relate the scene which he had overheard in the sum- mer-house, his tearful eyes all the time attesting his emotion, and he added : " If Meriadec has obtained two premiums, he may thank his young teacher, and both of them are indebted for all to these excellent nsen, whj are bestowing countless BBNJAMIK. 165 blessings on society, by difTiising amongst the lower classes the purest principles of morahty, and the know- ledge which contributes to man'i sarthly happiness." I I, -i. r .1 I— CHAPTER X. f mrnns Srinrtinu. When the chisses were again opened, the new school, foundcil by Mr. Delor, was provided with excel- lent masters, and there was certpiuly no lack of pupils. And now the Brothers belonging to the mure an- cient school were eiiubleil to bestow still greater attention on their pupils, because they were no longer over- tasked, all the surplus of theii school beintif trausferied to the new BENJAMIN. 167 establish mcnl. The pupils tbem> selves were very sensible of the change, anil the affairs of both schools flourished beyond all pre- vious hopes. The classes being now better organized, and fewer in num- ber, it was much more cnsy to di- rect the studies of the boys, and give them a wider range. The Brothers had henceforward no other ol)stacU'S to encounter than those which arc every where interwoven with their mission ; these tliey resisted with the arms of itience and watchful care, and vict'.y came, at last, to crown their efTorts. Then did they bless God for having poured down such abundant favors on their mission, — favors which exceeded tlieir most sanguine hopes. The fatigue insep- arable from their labors, the obsti- nate vices of some of liieir pupils, the !l 168 B K K J A M i N . unjust complaints of certain parents^ and the malicious sarcasms of their enemies, all these were more than compensated by the success of the schools, the progress made hy many of the pupils, the favor and appro- bation of the public, with the dona- tions and support of the avowed patrons of their schools, whose num- ber increased in proportion to their success. But it was chiefly in a moral point of view that the Brothers saw (he greatest improvement in their pu- pils. Soon after Benjamin's lirsi communion, he nnd several other boys had formed a liitle society in honor of the blessed Virgin, placing themselves and iheir school motes under her special protection. And it really seemed as though the ira maculate mother of the Saviour had L B K N J A M I N let adopted llieni as her childieu nnd obtained for tliein many extraordi- nary blessings. Purity is the source of innumerable virtues, for when the heart is ciiaste, the soul is easily preserved from the contamination of vice. Nothing contributed so nuich to the spiritual advancement of liiesc good boys as tiie happy idea of de- voting themselves to the Queen of Angels. Modesty accompanieil all their actions ; and their very auutse- menls assumed that character of chaste decorum which invariably fol- lows a Christian education. When they spoke, it was with the utmost mildness ; ti>ey were always civil and agreeable towards each other, and they were all closely united by that holy friendship which is based on mutual charity and mutual virt le. Respectful and obedient to their pa g it 170 D E K J A M I N . •"cnts and their masters, honoring the aged whoever they might be, and full of compassion for the woes and sufferings of others, these pious children were the glory of the school and an example for the whole town. And there was not one of these go(Ki hoys more exemplary than Benjamin, wliose good conduct and solid piety made him the joy and comfort of his nioiher. He Ijad now hut one year lo remain at school, as it was thought high time lo ifive him some husincss. Mr. Dolor, who loved him as a son, had proposed to take him into his couniiug-liousc, with a salary of four Inuulrod francs for the (irst year, to he doubled the year following. This proposal uuist have been a very llatter-ng one, lo a young lad who had scarcely com- pleted his thirtej-nih year; yet, ad- i< E r: T A M I N 171 vantageous as it certainly was, and most agreeal)le to Benjamin, he yei hesitated at first to accept it, without consulting his niotiier, and Ui^kingof God the grace to know his vocation, and whether he was likely to suit tli«3 offered situation. He then re- turned his most sincere thanks to Mr. Dclor, but told him at the same time that he must take a little time to talk the matter over with his iDotlicr and to ask the illuminating grace of God, This wise and modest reply raised him still higher in Mr. Delor's esteem, and made him still more anxious to engage him. " You are perfectly right," said he, "not to be too precipitate in taking a situa- tion without proper reflection, or without your mother's consent. But it is six months till the vacation, and I shall keep the situation for you, '13 ■ti y 1 I' ^ liii L 172 B E N J A M I R . ttlthougli it is really vacant no\f By that time I hope you will have decided on coming to me, as I really do not think you can find a situation more advantageous to you." Ben- jamin assented, and again thanked Mr. Delor for his great kindness to him, assuring him that he would rather far be in his employment, than that of any other, even were the salary not so high, as he ardent- ly desired to have an opportunit}' of proving his gratitude for the many favors already received. Mr. Delor was more and more pleased, and by the time Benjamin took his leave, it seemed tacitly understood that Ben- jamin was to accept the situation. On lea -ing Mr. Delor's house, he was walking slowly along, turning over in his mind the proposal he had just received, when all at once BE> JAMIN. 173 he was startled by a loud crasli, and hastily went lo where he saw a crowd gathering around a workshop. A pitiable spectacle there met his eyes, and cliilled his very heart: an unfortunate carpenter, had fallen from a scaffold, and a huge beam falling with him, had shattered both his legs. Great was the sorrow and dismay of Benjamin when in the poor mangled creature before him he recognized his former host, Rosel. Sincerely grieved to see that worthy man in sucii a condition, Benjamin helped to carry iijiu home, and staid some time with the alHicted family, trying all he could to console them. Thanks to his provident care of his little funds, he was enabled to assist them in their great distress, and truly rejo.ccd he was, to have it in his power, for he knew very well that ■'Si m .t 1. m 1 m V f 1 i ' 1 \ t.-l ! 1' ■ r 174 BENJAMIN. Rosel was wretchedly poor. The doctors were called in, and they found the injury sustained by Rosel to be fully as great as had been supposed ; the bones being literally smashed in pieces, and the flesh dreadfully bruised and mangled. It was more than probable that the unfortunate man would be a cripple for the rest of his life. On hearing this announcement the groans and lamentations of his unhappy wife and children broke forth anew, and mingled sadly with the piteous moans of the agonized sufTerer. It was in- deed a scene of heart-rending mise- ry. Benjamin remained all the day with his poor, afflicted friends, deeply sympathizing with them and doing every tiling he could think of, that might be rseful to them. All that long night he could never close an L BENJAMIN 175 eye, so great was his sorrow and anxiety about these poor people. The mulilated ima^e of Rosel, and the sad, horror-stricken faces of his wife and cJiildren were before him in fancy, and engrossed his every thonglil. What could he do to se- cure to them some permanent assist- ance? for poor Benjamin's resources were very, very limited; his little hoard would not last f hem very long, and yet their necessity must be long — long and tedious — perhaps life- long. All of a sudden, he thought of Mr, Delor's generous proposal of the previous day ; " That is the very thing," said he to himself, with a sudden rush of joyous emotion. " It will be the salvation of this poor distressed family. Mr. Delor is very charitable, and f know he will take RosePs eldest son in my place, for init i f/Li ■I.S5 ■II 176 BB N J 4 MI N . he too has been educjited by tlie Brothers, and is eigliteen months older than I am. He will have foin hundred francs for the first year, and as much more for the next. He .A a very good, steady boy, and Heaven will give him grace to win Mr. Delor's favor ; so, the more I think of this plan, the more I am pleased with it." Full of these generous thoughts, Benjamin passed the remainder of the night maturing his project, and anxiously looking for the dawn of day. At last he saw the first faint glimmer of the gray morning light, and dressing himself quickly, he re- paired to Mr. Delor's as soon as he thought it likely that the merchant was to be seen. Mr. Delor, seeing him come so very early, naturally concluded that he had already made BENJAMIN. Ill up his mind, and was now come to announce his intention of accepting the situation. His reception was, therefore, even unusually gracious, but he was doomed to be speedily disappointed. Encouraged by his kindly smile, Benjamin hastened to tell him what liad happened on the preceding day, dwelling particularly on the extreme poverty of Rose I 's family, and his own ol)ligations to that worthy man whose care, and advice, and good example, had been 80 useful to him. " Oh, sir ! " he continued, in a choking voice, " I have reckoned on your goodness and compassion, to relieve the misery of these poor people. You can be- friend them — you have the power ! " " Well, and what would you have nie do for them 1 " demanded the merchant, who believed that it was /ti u > M 178 BEXJAMIN. if I t f - present and pecuniary assistance thai Benjamin sought. * Just this, sir," replied the youth- ful advocate. " You have a place vacant in your office ; be so good as to give it to RosePs eldest son, who is a very good, religious boy. Oh ! do not refuse, sir ! — pray do not ! You will find him well worthy of esteem and confidence, and then you will be conferring such a blessing on the whole family ; for if he only had that situation, his salary would keep them all from want." Mr. Delor was silent. ** It will keep them from starv- ing," said Benjamin, who could not prevent his tears from gushing forth. ** And heaven and the good Chris- tians will do tjje rest." " My boy," said Mr. Delor, though he was at heart, deeply atteded by BRNJAMIN nt this noble disinterestedness, yet wmt- ing to try him out for it : " my good boy, I had intended the place for yoa, and what right have you to in- terfere with my choice ? Am I to be governed, do you think, by your childish fancies ; or, am ! expected to take an interest in all your ac- quaintances, because, forsooth, I hav« befriended yourself? " " Oil ! sir, sir ! " interrupted Ben- jamin, "how little do you under stand me ! I to interfere with your choice, when I only meant to offer my humble petition ! And see, sir, if I don't ask it with tears, for I can't keep them in ! Ah ! surely you can- not be ignorant of my real feelings, when I thus appeal to your com- passion on behalf of this worthy fa- mily in their great distress ? Oh no ! I know you cannot blame me. «iU 1; 4i '■,n ■■:$■: ; ?! 180 BENJAMIN Oaly say so, sir, and I v/ill be con- lent ! " " I am well disposed to give you credit for the very best intentions, Benjamin," replied Mr. Delor. " But inst let us talk the matter over quietly." He then did his utmost to convince Benjninin that what lie proposed doing was vory rash and imprudent ; " for," said he, " chari- ty should always begin at home." He represented to him that he him> self was just as much in need of a situation as RosePs son could be, and that if he now rejected the opportu- nity offered him, there was great reason to fear that such another |9ight not soon present itself, and Jiat he would repent his rashness when (00 late. Finally, he said that though generosity was a very excel- lent thing, yet ila dictates were net *~";i: BENJAMIN. 181 always to be followed to llie exclu- sion of prudence. Benjamin, as we may imagine, promptly answered these objections. In his opinion, charity was a fnnda- mental precept, the first gift of faith ; for faith without works is deady ac- cording to the Apostle St. James. To serve others, then, and to make a sacrifice n\ their favor, when oc- casion requires it, is an act of faith, and of hope; for faith, hope, and charity, are sisters. Whatsoever charity gives is offered by faith to God, and hope prepares the reward. To give, before God, is to receive ; for whatsoever is given He w^ill give back an hundred fold. When we succor and assist our neighbor, we imitate God himself, who daily dis- penses the treasures of his bounty amongst the whole human family. m 189 BKNJAMIV. I? 1 •■ f - And yet, who would be more ex- cusable if He withheld his blcssingi — who meets with so much ingrati- tude 1 Who is so often tempted to regret his benefactions, if I might venture to say so ? Yet his mercy is never impeded by these consider- aticns; nor does the bad use made of his blessings ever arrest their course. This is the example which we, according to our power, ought to imitate, never suffering doubt or fear for the future to prevent us from doing good to otiiers. To abstain from assisting a noiglilior in distress, through fear that we niiglit after- wards regret it, would be offering an insult to Divine Providence. How could we suppose, sir, iliat God would ever punish any one for re- lieving a fellow-creature in distress. Ah no! God would always raise up ! • I I il BB VJ A KIN 18? B friend for us, or m lenst Ho him- •elf would Ixjcome our friend and consoler. There was in this reasoning some hing so just, and so elevated, ahove all so truly Christian, that Mr. Delo. could not help acknowledging him- self fully convinced. Warmly shak ing Benjamin's hand, ho exclaimwl : " Blessed boy that you are, you m. fit the favor of Heaven, and the nd- miratioii of men." On hearing this, Benjamin hlushed deeply : " My Jear, good sir ! " said he, " just ihink of poor Rosel ! — he is suffering, and every way wretched." "Yes! yes! Benjamin you are qnite right — let us think of that poor man. You wili take him this gold piece from me, and run as fast as you can. At your request, I will give the vacant place to his son MICROCOPY RESOLUTION TEST CHART (ANSI and ISO TEST CHART No. 2) 1.0 I.I If 1^ £ US, u 1.25 1.4 12.5 2.0 1.8 ^ APPLIED IIVHGE Inc S^ 1653 East Main Street rf Rochester, New York 14609 USA as (716) 482 -0300 -Phone ^S (716) 288 - 5989 - Fox iil I; If] \ II 'i [ft-' ^ i: 1S4 BKKJAMIN. When you are free to make an en- gagement, I shall find another for you. I will now give you the plea- sure of bringing this good news to the family ;— so you may go as fast as you like." Benjamin, having made his best bow, darted away like lightning, and in a few minutes he made his poor friends rejoice by announcing the glad tidings that Mr. Delor was going to take the eldest son into his office, nor did he forget to mention the liberal salary attached to the sit- uation. It is true he made not the slightest allusion to the part he had in obtaining this appointment, yet it happened that Rosel's family soon heard it all from another source. CHAPTER XI. wm t Slir #irk Itrangrr. There is certainly no feeling of the human heart more delicious, OT more refined than that which fol- lows the performance of an act of charity : so nothing had ever given Benjamin such exquisite happiness as the event related in the preceding chapter. The deplorahle condition of Rosel, the extraordinary merit of his son, who had heen Benjamin'i playmate in childhood, and sine* k nu ill 1 it. V4: 11; I I I ■ 186 B K 5 J AM I N. then his class-mate ; and finally the unvarying kindness which he had received from the whole family dur- ing his stay amongst them ; all these motives tended to increase the plea- sure he enjoyed. And then the ar- dent, the unspeakable gratitude of the family, expressed in every way they could think of, made him feel still more happy. Whilst Benjamin was thus taken up with the affairs of his friends, the time was rapidly approaching when he was to begin to think of his own. The school-year was now drawing to a close, and with it Benjamin^s attendance at the Brothers' School His education being finished, it be- came necessary that he should seek some means of earning a living. His mother was very anxious that he should lose no time in idleness, BENJAMIN 1S7 lest the fruits of his excellent train- ing might he endangered. She had too often seen children wlio had heeu carefully brought up by the Brothers, when once they left the school, give themselves up to idleness, and finally to evil courses, all for want of useful occupation to keep mind and body employed. It was doubly necessary that Benjamin should be put to some business, since his passions had been found so violent and so hard to nibdue. But, then, what business was the best for him 7 — It was certain that he was no ordinary boy. His solid- ity of judgment, and his great natu- ral talents, cultivated as they had been ; these, with the vast amount of solid learning which he had ac- quired, rendered the decision a some- what difficult one. And Nicola knew M I H i: . H U 18B 8 S N J A M I !i . this. Though herself a plain, sim pie woman she could well undi r- stand that Benjamin's talents and requirements unfitted him for a purely manual employment. On the other hand, she had no means to prepare him for any of those pro- fessions which would have suited his taste and his abilities. She could not send him to college, where Meriadec was to go after leaving the Brothers' School, so the poor woman icnew not how to act. Just at this time it Wtis that that fearful scourge, the cholera, broke out in i'rance and began its dreadful work of decimraing the entire popu- lation, and Brfetagne was one of the first provinces it attacked. Every one that could move away, hastened to fly from the approach of the plague, hut it followed from one B^U ^ \ BK^TJAMIN. 189 locality to another, and at each mi- gration the number of fugitives grew fearfully less. Scarcely had this terrible pestilence appeared in St. Brieuc, when Madam Dubac resolved to leave it, notwithstanding her age and infirmity. It was not that the old lady sought to shun death, for she well knew that death was every where around, and not to be avoided by any precautions of hers, but she wished, before leaving the world, to see her only son and give him her last blessing. Preparations were quickly made for the journey, and they all set out on the day after the examination, when Benjamin, as usual, had obtained the highest ho- nors, and most valuable prizes. He had barely time to go, in company with his mother, to take leave of his beloved masters, and to thank them t {• 190 BENJAMIN M ill all, but especially Brother Angcius, for the excellent education they had sriven him. How his heart swelled with sorrowful -amotion when he came to bid them farewell, and liow carefully did he treasure up their parting admonitions! His school- days were now for ever at an end, and he was about to enter upon the dangerous paths of busy life, without any worldly means on which to depend. It was now that he must cling more closely than ever to the sacred principles of morality in which he had been brought up, and put in practice tliose divine precepts which had been so early impressed upon his mind. " My child ! " said Brother Angelus in conclusion, " my child! you have been a good and docile pupil — go now and become a good citizen. Endeavor always to n BENJAMIN. 191 I convince otliers by your good con- duct that a truly religious education is advaniageous both to the individ- ual who receives it, and to society at large. My blessings and prayeri .hall be ever you'-s ! " The tears w 'ing fast from Benjamin's e > iie kissed the Brother's hand and ^ver again, and promised never to forget his advice. All hearts were touched by this scene, and Benjamin him- self had to hurry away, unwill- ing to let his emotion be seen. Very soon after, he set out with his mother for the residence of Mr. Dubac. The journey was a mournful one, for every where as our travelers passed along in the city and in the country — they saw nothing but death tnd desolation. Even the face of 192 BENJAMIN. f fi^ naluie, hiul there little to cheer the dejection ol the travel lers, for in that old nuuitiiue region liie lejitiiifsof the ecenery were dull inul monotonous ; the hills were clot lied with gigantic oaks, all gnarled and knotted with age, and the plains strewed with coarse, dry rushes, or wild, half- withered brambles. While journeying through this melancholy region, the abode of si- lence and desolation, they frequently met funeral processions, consistmg solely of a few weeping relatives of the dead. In the cities through which their route lay, horror and despair were painted on every face, at sight of the dead-carts which were passing and repassing in all direc- tions with their loads of wretched victims. And such were the scenes which greeted our travellers all .,i. ^ rt N J A M I N . 10S along the way till they reached theb destination. Mr. Dubac was rejoiced to see hii Qged mother, whom he had not seen for several years, and he was truly grateful that they had been spared U 'Tieot again. lie /as a man of distinguished merit, arJ in his pro- fessional character, as a physician, presented an edifying example of heroic devotion and real benevo- lence, at a time when such qualities were doubly required. His zeal seemed to increase as the 'danger became more alarming, for there is in a pure, imselfish soul a certain superhuman energy which, in sea- sons of public calamity raises it far above the fears and apprehensions of common humanity. And Ben- jamin, wliose soul was well fitted to sympathize with such a man, A 111 i' t I' -i Itf4 ■ K*'JAllIlf. li ;« ) ■it .i i i watched him da}' after day in hii heroic exertions, till he at length be- came, as it were, spell-bound. Ni- cola went with her mistress to the doctor's country-house where his wife and children were, but Beuja- mm asked and obtained leave to main in Nantes. In the course of a few days he became very useful to the doctor, whom he accompanied iu all his rounds, especially amono^sl the poorer cholera patients, p h-- ing and administering their medi- cines, or rubbing and warming them according as iie was ordered. Dr. Dubac was not long without dis- covering Benjamin's worth, and he began to regard him with admira- tion, on account of his piety, his meekness, and his compassion for the sick ; the consolat on which h Iried to givr Uiem, rnJ the pious If B B M J A M I N . ioa •xhortations with which he address- ee) them. Then how fervently did he pray for the departing soul, and how watchful was his care for the salvaiion of souls, and for the cure or relief of hodily suffering i All this caused the doctor to take a pe- culiar interest in the generous youth who thus voluntarily, and from a purely religious motive, exposed hiiusrlf to constjintly-increasing dan- ger. It was something new for him to see such a self-sacrificing spirit actuating one so young; to see a mere boy manifesting day after day a charity which knew no hounds ; ft moral courage wliich nothi""» rould subdue. No! neither the sig of the most fearful human suffer- ing, nor the horrible spectacle of hido'Mis corpses every where seen. Yes ! it was a boy — little more than t 1^ ill lil 196 BENJAMIN a child who exhibited this devoled- ness, this firmness of principle, nt a time, too, when the stoutest hear* might well have quailed, and shrunk from doing what he did !— Yes ! he was but a boy, but in what school had he learned that sublime devo- tion'? Whence had he derived so many and such rare virtues? — Truly these were but the natural results of the Christian education he had re- ceived. In virtuous souls, religion calls forth all noble sentiments and inspires the loftiest and most heroic devotion. The mass of mankina cannot, and will not understand this, but the virtuous man both under- stands and imitates it. Dr. Dubac fully appreciated Benjamin's good qualities, and ever after he treated him as his own son. He called him BEITJAMIN. 101 his young assistant, and in fact Ben- jamin was becoming a doctor, urged on by circumstances, and by Ins great compassion for the sulVerings of his fellow-creatures. Nor was his want of medical knowledge any drawback on liis usefulness, for the scourge which was then sweeping away the hum.-in race in myriads was entirely unknown to the faculty, who understood neidier its origin nor the proper treatment which it required. Science confessed its ut- ter inability to check, or even to un- derstand the disease, which contin- ued to sweep away millions of the human race in every land without any of its symptoms being marked or identified— strange and myste- rious pestilence ! One day Benjamin had gone out, I 1 %\ hi f'f t 198 BENJAMIN. according to custom, with Dr. Dubuc. Having visited a great number of patients, the pair were returning home to get some refreshment, when their course was obstructed by a crowd who had gathered in the open street around a nmn who had just been attacked by the fatal disease. The physician made himself known, and the crowd instantly opened to make way for his approach. In a very few moments the unfortunate man reached the last extremity, and there was scarcely lime, it would appear to convey him to the doctor's house ; for, as he was a stranger in the place, no one else would consent to admit him. It was, indeed, a pitiable sight to see that poor man struck down by iuch a frightful malady, far aviay from all who knew him. His face gtmL BKKJ AMIK. 199 was perfectly livid, his skin wrinkled and sticking to his bones, his eyes fixed and sunken in their sockets, his voice husky and inarticulate, and his limbs powerless and icy cold. The only symptom of life visible in the wretched man was the violent heaving of his chest, accompanied by a long-drawn rattling sound, which seemed the harbinger of approaching dissolution. Without pulsation, color, or motion, the man was fearful to look upon, and his sufferings must have boen something like those of the damned, wlio, though not dead, cannot yet be said to live. Such being the unhappy man's condition, he excited far more horror than compassion, so that Dr. Dubac's old cook — the only one of his ser- vants who remained 'd town — would 900 BX 5 J A M I N . net go near him on any account So Benjamin, who was always ready for any work of charity, was obliged to take the sick man in charge. He resolved to sit up all night with him, provided he lived so long, which, however, did not seem at all probable. But though Benjamin had very little hope, he made up his mind to save the man's life if it were possible. He first moistened his mouth and lips with a reviving draught, prepared by the doctor; then he applied warm cloths to his stomach and chest, in order to restore circulation ; he kept constantly rubbing his legs and arms ; and, in short, tried every imaginable means to bring back life. And then how fervently he prayed for the poor sufferer ! And his prayer was beard. Amongst the many strange BENJAMIN. 201 freaks of this most mysterious disease, are the sudden clianges which it sometimes undergoes— assuming all at once a favorable aspect when every hope had vanished ; so. justna the day was dawning, liie tide of life was seen to return, faintly^ it is true, yet very perceptibly. After an agony of several hoius, nature regained the mastery, and the patient began visibly to improve. It wns soon manifest that all danger was over, but there remained that fearful re- laxation of the whole organic system, which usually succeeds a violent at- tack of cholera. So utterly pros- trated was the "oor man's mind, that he could not collect his thoughts so as to speak half a dozen worils connectedly. Yet, still his recovery was pretty certain, for it 'a very 11 lis =il , ■1 ■ ^ [l ; ' IP !i 202 B E N. ▲ M I N . rarely, indeed, that any one has a relapse after that disease. Benjamio was truly delighted at this unex- pected recovery, for he began to feel much interested about the stranger. He often thought how afflicted his family would have been, had he died at that time, far away from home, and surrounded only by strangers. The doctor had prescriL ed, amongst other things, silence and repose ; and his directions in this respect were punctually observed, so that the patient rapidly recovered. When he l)egan to look more natural, and had nearly lost his ghastly appear- ance, the doctor's old woman volim- tecred to take care of him while Benjamin went with her master as usual. But no sooner did the young assistant reach home in tlic evening, B « N J A M 1 ^ . 203 than he ran to resume liis station by tlie sick-bed, and nothing could ex- ceed his kind attention to the invahd. He even had his bed removed to the sick-room, so as to be at hand during the night. In short, no child could have done more for a beloved parent, than Benjamin did for that pool itranger. :|«!ii tl J ■I CHAPTER Xli. Nearly a fortnight had passed in this way, when the invalid was found 80 much improved that he was al- lowed to have a change of diet, and as much as he would eat. He was also permitted to sit up a few hours every day, and to converse a little, •0 as he did not go too far with it. It was then that he attempted to express his gratitude to Benjamin, whose generous devotion he could never sufficiently admire, and he BENJAMIN. 206 11 could think or speak of nothing else. To his ardent thanks and blessings, the youth always replied with a be- nign smile : " After all, what great thing have I done? Why, I have simply fulfilled the precept: Do unto others as you would that they shoulC, do unto you. Would you not have done as much for me?" and then he would quickly cliange the conversation, in order to escai)e thanks and praises, though in tiiis he could not always succeed. In the course of his tedious convales- xxnce, the stranger and his young benefactor became very intimate friends, and Benjamin was not long till he knew all about the family of his new acquaintance. The stranger, now perfectly re- covered, was very soon to resume the journey so fearfully interrupted I 206 BENJAMIN. If He was speaking to Benjamin of the happiness which he expected to en- joy when lie reached his family, whom he ardently longed to see. " And I will speak to them of you, my young friend," he added, " 1 shall tell them that, under God, they are indebted to you for my life. My wife will bless you, for she is good and affectionate, and my son shall love you as a brother. Ah ! if he resembled you with what delight would I embrace him, after so long an absence ! " "So then you have been long separated from your family ! " " Alas ! it is almost ten years since I saw either my wife or son," re- turned the stranger, "and my boy was then very young, for he was scarcely four years old. I am afraid be will not be able to recognize me, B E N .1 A M I N 201 DOW, cspccinlly as I was believed to be dead." These words made Benjamin's heart llirill : his own position was so iniicli hke that of the stranger's son, and he was just the age mentioned when deprived of his father, as he beheved for ever. The pitiless sea had engulfsd his beloved father, and he had never dared to ^ope that he might still be hving. Yet still he was startled and agitated by wlial he had just heard. " They believed you dead ! " he repeated in a trem- bling voice, " Oh ! how great will be their joy when they find you still alive? What would I give to have my poor father thus restored to me !" " Have you, then, lost your fath- er?" inquired t!ie stranger tenderly. "Alas! yes," replied Benjam'U I . ii I m 308 B E N J A M I 5 . «orrovrfiilly, " I lost him when 1 was hut four ycnrs old. Ht; sacri- ficed himself for my mother and me — and Oil ! what a good, kind fathci he was ! " " Why, this is a singular coinci- dence!" exclaimed the stranger — quickly. ^^ And how long is that ago]" " Nearly ten years." " Ten years ! — And you are then (burteen years of age ! — It is truly marvellous ! — If it were in St. Brieuc now >» " Why, that is my native town ! ** cried Benjamin. " How say you 1 — St. Brieuc youi native town ! — Greai God ! can you )) " I am called Benjamin." «< What !- Benjamin Milon?" "Yes!" BENJAMIIV. 209 «* M V 8dn !— my dear son ! t is ihen you who have suvtU my life '.—come to my arms, my Benjamin !— child •0 tenderly loved— but now the glory and pride of your long lost father ! '' Benjamin was completely siunned by this most unexpected discovery, but he, nevertheless, had the pre- •ence of mind to ll»row himself into his father's outstretched arms, where he wept and sobbed lit e an infant. It would be diflicui* to describe what Benjamin thought, and how he felt, while clasped to the bosom of that father whom he had so long mourned as dead. But our young readers can easily imagine his feelings, if they will just suppose themselves for a moment n his situation. Certain it is that no earthly happiness could exceed Benjamin's, as he alternately laughed and wept, and kissed his ii. ZIO B E K J A M I n . father, and tried to give utterance to his joy and gratitude. After a few moments of silent, because unutterable happiness, Louis Milon asked for his wife, and was told that she was about half a league rroni Nantes, at the doctor's country- seat. Benjamin added that he would go immediately to her with the hup . py tidings of his fiither's return. But Louis would not stay behind, for he was now all impatience to behold his long-lost wife. Just as this was agreed upon, Dr. Dubac came in, and was delighted to hear of the discovery just made. It was then arranged that all three of thera were to drive out after dinner to the country-house. The violence of the distemper was already beginning to abate, so ^.- at the doctor might spare himself a few lours to visit his fam- BENJAMIN. 211 ily. They all set out, then, in the doctor's carriage, and a few minutes brought Louis Milon face to face with his faithful wife. But Nicola, had not the remotest idea of who he was, so much was he changed by time, trouble, and his recent illness. The news was broken to her very gradually and with the utmost pre- caution, lest the sudden shock might do her some serious injury. But at last the great secret was revealed, and Nicola, her eyes raining tears of joy, was again pressed to her husband's heart. What an affect- ing sight it was to see them meeting thus, after so many long years of separation. In fact there was not one of the spectators who could re- frain from shedc'ing tears of sym- pathetic joy. Tiie doctor declared that there should be quite a grand i!m*. n^-> .- -''"'" '-r^T ■•'■■■ J/ -i:-::*?^^?^-,- m^Y.-i''<'~^ii ■-:U.JV -^■- ^ ?W 1 ii:? 212 BBNJAMIK. lllil celebration of the event, for it gave him ahnost as much pleasure as it did any of the parties concerned. It is always useful to point out to a young family the viltimate triumph of virtue, after its series of trials and tribulations. And so thought the worthy doctor, who instantly gave orders for a little festival, and the evening passed away pleasantly and swiftly. VV^Iien night came on, the whole family gathered around Louis Milon, to hoar the recital of his adventures during the ten years of his absence. This narrative had purposely been postponed till the doctor's return frotn the town, whither he had been obliged to go, early in the evening. The little circle being all seated in silent expectation, Louis Milon be- gan liis story. r CHAPTER Xin. atotttos of lonis 3\l\\n. Seduced by the brilliant liopei held out to tempt n)e, I consented, though very reluctantly, to leave my wife and child for a time, firmly believing tliat I could thereby secure to them an easy competence. This ambition was, I trust, excusable; bm, unfortimately, I had not taken time to reflect on the clmnces of so hazardous ar undertaking. I never thought of the dangers I had to ■■w-.- -x.'^-iaifti.V:-- * li I ll 214 BKNJAMIN, i:'tr m encounter when venti ring on the stormy sea; alas! I was too soon reminded of them. We ' ad not sailed one hundred leagues on mid-sea, and our ship was violently driven over the billows in a southern direction by the force of a strong wind, when we 'were dis- covered by a brigantine, who darted after us with the rapidity of a bird pursuing its prey. From that mo- ment my heart sank, and I began to have many sad forebodings. Our vessel had previously sustained con- siderable damage, and our means of defence were very trifling, so that, if once we came to an engagement, we had little or no chance of escape We therefore did our utmost lo avoid the enemy, but she was a nuich faster sailer than our craft, and very soon came up with us. We were B E N J A M r H. 210 attacked, and captured, just as we had expected. What a niglit was that which fol- lowed the taking of our vessel! Sorrow was in our souls, and despair on our fnccs. Fortune, hopes, and speculations, all, all were swept away, leaving us utterly destitute and forlorn. All our bright dreams were now replaced by sad reality; the most cruel slavery, without one single hope of escape. And then how fearfully was our silent despon- dency contrasted by the brutal re- joicings and vengeful shouts of the conquerors. We were very soon loaded with chain*=^ and flung all together into the where we re- mained until our a^nval at Takum- brit, in the kingdom of Morocco. There we were restored to the li^ht of day, but not to liberty, and I •sfi 111 t16 BENJAMIN. Hi we were compelled to slund by in silence while our own goods were divided amongst our brutal conquer- ors. And oil ! bow bitter were our refl ctions as we looked on ! Freedom, country, home, family, and wealth, all were lost to us. Our misfortune would not have been altogether so grievous had we been |)ermitted to remain together, but even tliat sad privilej^c of mourning and suffering together, was cruelly denied us, for we were publicly sold by auction in the market-place. 1 fell into the hands of a rich pro- prietor, of European origin, who had abandoned Christianity to become a Mussulman, and he was the most implacable enemy of all Christians. He was called Roum-al-Maboulen, that h to 3ay, the Scourge of Roman Catholici ; and well did he deserve m ±i BBNJAMIH. 217 the name, for, thougli he trenU'd all his slaves with tlio utmost sr verity, yet he was doubly cruel to those who professed to retain the faith of their fathers, and would not give up the. religion of Christ at his bidding. Many of these unfortunate creaturei were at length forced into compli- ance, for human strength coidd scarcely resist the untiring persecu- tion of the renegade. Hence, as it was through fear that the unhappy slaves gave up their reUgion, the> made very bad Mahometans, but their master cared nothing abodi that. His only object was to lessen the torments of his own conscience, by inducing others to follow his own example, just in the same way that the devils go on tempting poor souls, in order to get as many as they cai Co share their eternal misery. I * Ill r H^^^H ' liv 318 U EN J ▲ Ul>. No fate can be more wretched, liere on earth, than that of a slave who belongs to sucli a master ; and, for my part, I was almost reduced to despair. I was ever haunted by the cruel thought that I shouU never again see my wife or child, and it is impossible for me to describe what I suffered in my mind. Never was I again to behold my dear Nicola, or my little son, whom I now loved a thousand times more than ever. These sad reflections tore my very heart asunder, and I felt as though I could not live, with such a pros- pect before me." Here Milon was interrupted by Benjamin, who, urged by an irre- sistible impulse, threw himself into his arms, and clung around his neck. For a moment, the father and son, clasped each other in a fond em- ik BBNJAMIN 219 brace, as though fearful of being again separated, but neither could utter a word. Every one present regarded the scene with the deepest emotion. " Ah, my dear father !" said Ben- jamin at last, " heaven • ould not do otherwise than restore you to us after so many trials and sufferings ! Jus- tice and mercy both required it ! " " Yet, with all my confidence in God," replied Louis, " I never dared to hope for that. Tiie gifts of God ore all gratuitous, and if we are all called to suffer for him, we are not all worthy of being rewarded. A short time after I hud been sold, my master went on a distant voyage, and I was one of the slaves wjjo at- tended him. He was going to bring home his daughter Anelie, who, iince the death of her mother, had *y- S£0 li K N .1 A M I N . Ml 'I renittiiieti at 1/li with lier maternnl relations. Izli is situated al some disuince Iroin Takumbrit, in tlie in- terior of ilic kingdom, between Ouchda and Tefera. I l»ad thus an opportunity of seeing a considerable portion of that coimtry, and a short account of what I saw may, per- haps, have some interest for you. " Travehng through those regions is very unsafe, especially at night, unless the party be numerous and well armed, so as to keep o(T the Kabylas, or Bedouins, by whom the country is infested. These bands of marauders are lightly armed, and mounted on small Arab horses, which fly over the groimd with the rapidity of lightning, neither the ▼ast sandy plain, nor the wooded hill being any obstacle to them. " The inhabitants of the country [L '-^ U B N J A M I K . 331 have uotliing to dread from thoie robbers, being protected by their poverty ; nay, they very often join them in their attacks on travelerS| and are ahnost sure to help them io any imminent danger, thus purchas- ing security for themselves by a crime which custom has deprived of all its enormity in their eyes. ^^ The soil is excellent, and the work of vegetation goes on with astonishing rapiiltty, owing to the abundant dews which fall during the night. Nevertheless, agriculture is so httle attended to, that the only pro- duce raised in that fine country is some grain and a few vegetables. Corn, rice, anJ fruit may be said to be the whole harvest gathered in. Rich and vast meadows are every where to be seen, and I do not know that I have ever seen gra-ss a t ■ n Ill 2:.,2 BBK J AM 1 V . SO high, or in such abundai.cc a« 1 did there. " I must own that my recollection! of that journey are far from being unpleasant, and I have no doubt that, if my mind had been more at ease, I should have enjoyed it very much. When at noon, the heat of the sun beca iport{il)le, Roum al-Alaboulen i 'he caravan to halt under the shaut v.. a grove, con- sisting of olive, almond, pomegra- nate, fig, orange, and jujube trees, whose delicious fruit furnished us with plenty of moisture for our sun parched lips. These trees are not the only shade which greets the traveler in Morocco ; for there, as in Europe, we occasionally see the elm, the ash, the cork-tree, the oak, the poplar, the walnut-tree, the beach, the chesnut-tree, the palm-tree, and B K N J A N I N 'i23 the mulberry-tree. In the great organization of the world, the Cre- ator has kept up, by his admirable foresight, a most salutary arrange. ment, even in the siiiallest particu- lars. He alone, whose voice called the universe into existence, could foresee and establish all that was necessary for the prrservation of his creatures. So it is, that where the sun shines down u ith fiery heat on a parched and waterless r^ion, we find numberless trees to shade the traveler under their thick foilage, and to quench his thirst with their ripe, juicy fruit. Wheresoever we go, there do we find God, in his power and in his beneficence. It is his goodness that brings forth from the cultivated field the wheat where- with we are nourisheii the milk, the wine, and the watet, which V •TF-'T" ^^ j i BSl S24 BVKJAMT1V. quench our thirst, and the wool which forms our garuients; and in the desert it is the same beneficent power which provides cool shades and dehcious fruits. Ah ! how wor- thy He is of all our love, praise, and homage, for ever and ever I " At last we arrived at IzU, and Roum-al-Alaboulen once more eui- braced his daughter, whom lie loved to excess. A great ban([uet was given by Anelie's friends, in honor of her father's visit, and it was Ivept up all the time that we remained at Izh. This gave considerable relief to us slaves, for we were treated somewhat more humanely while the festival contimied. In order to save his daughter as mucli as possible of the fatigue of the journey, our mas- ter decided on having her carried by two of us in a sort of palarquin, and BENJAMIN 32a he promised their freedom to th« two slaves who should hring his daughter safe home. The clioice was left lO the young lady herself, and you may all imagine how ardently each of ns wished to be one of the chosen two. " Such was our frame of mind when we were all paraded before Anelie, and how great was my joy when she pitched on me, for one. So overpowering, indeed, were my feelings, that I actually fell to the ground insensible. " Alas ! when I again opened my eyes to the light, that gleam of hope had vanished, and my lot was dis- mal as before. " Roum-al-Alaboulen had never dreamed that Anelie would have chosen me, and he was furious that •he had done so. He had expected that his daughter would select a slave 'M It \: i : :■- il I'l; -r 226 DEKJAMIN more submissive to his commandi than I was, for he had never forgiven my steadfast attachment tj my own faith. He, therefore, t iv I every means to induce his daughter to make dioice of another whom he pointed out as being more worthy of favor ; but whetlter it was through childish caprice, pity, sympathy, or any other motive, the young Uidy positively declared that I should be one of the two bearers. " Seeing that she was immovable in her resolution, the apostate be- came perfectly outrageous, and de- clared that though he could not refuse his daughter's request, yet ber preference should not benefit my condition. He kept his word, and another slave was set free as a sub- •titute for me. "Ever after, the renegade could BENJAMIN. 221 not bear the sight of me, and we Jiad no sooner reached Takiunbrit than my sufl'erings began again, luid lar worse than ever. He liad deter- mined that I should giv- up the Christian I'ailh, and tiirov Hims); veil over his fierce hatred ^i me, he tried his best arguments and mosi seducing promises, in order to win me over. But how mucli was he mistiiken, when he hoped to wean me from my religion!— I regarded the man with iiorror, and became daily more attaclied to that faith which could even sweeten the bitter cup of my captivity. At length when Roum-al-Alabou- len saw that he could not prevail upon me to give up my faith, and finding that neither threats nor prom- ises could affect me, he gave him- self up to that ferocious crueltv which in 4. '^'itS BBDJAMliK. was a pp't of his nature. I was condemned to the most painful and liumil-' --g tasks, having for food only a little black bread, and my drink was the muddiest and most c rrupt water that could be had. Add to all this that en the very slightest pretence, 1 was submitted to the most excruciating punishment that could be devised. The malice of Roum-al-Alaboulen was most fruitful iu inventing tortures for me. Being reduced to such a r^tiable state, without any consolation but my God, without other advocate than my own conscience, I miist certainly have sunk under my mis- fortunes had it not been for the ty- rant's little daughter, the good and fair Anelie. According to the cus. torn of that country, where the wo- UPD are kept as slaves, she rarely BENJAMIN. ^9 left the house ; but, as often a» she could obtain that favor from her doting father, she hastened to find me out and do every thing she could to alleviate my sufferings. No one suspected her of having any partial- ity towards me, for the dear child was only five years old when she came to Takumbrit. Who, then, could have expected so much tender sympathy from such a child as that? But so it was, and her interest in me increased with her years, and accord- ing as my sorrows grew heaviei, so did her sympathy become more deep. What sweet consolation did I receive from her — how nmcli as- sistance she secretly managed to pro- cure for me, and how many torments did she contrive to avert Aom me ! — Truly she was my guardian angel, nearly always invisible to my eyei I '1 I >J .1 t -I ml If; : i 230 BENJAMIK. yet oxvv present in her influenct and tutelary care. Years passed on, and every yeai seemed an age in passing. It would seem that my firmness had at hist overcome tlie obdurate animosity of Roum-al-Alaboulen, who appeared to forget what he caUed my ()l)sti- nacy, or rather he grew tired of per- secution which he had so long tried in vain. The true motive of his conduct was, I think, the fear of advancing age, and the load of re- morse which pressed heavy on his soul. His mind was tortured with fearful forebodings, and superstitious fears, and he could think of nothing but his own apostacy, and that of •o many others for which he was accountable. And then the sight of his young daughter, pure and fair as "jn angel, became another souictf BENJAMIN' 231 •f torment to liis wicIcIkhI luind. Were tliese seciot tortures lie en- dured, tliese phantoiiis of guilt and horror, were these to be ll»e lot of that beloved cliild'? Was she one day to curse that father who had trained her up without those reli- gious principles which secure the mind from the unutterable misery he had so long borne? was she to hate that father who had from her e&rliest infancy instilled into her mind those poisonous doctrines which destroy the soul, by first corrupting it and then casting over it a fatal blindness which is to continue till the awful moment when the light- ning presence of the Judge shall reveal the foul jiljysses of that soul, and it shall be delivered over to re- vengeful spirits for all eternity'?— This thought was insupportable. if 282 BENJAMIN He could resign himself, he fancied, to whatever awaited him,— but hii daughter— his beloved Anelie 1— the object of his tenderest affection, to expose her to be eternally lost, and to curse him for ever and ever '.—oh horrible '.—most hoirible! Seizing his daughter in his arms, he looked at her with an almost frenzied eag- erness, and, for the first time, the tears rolled from his eyes. One day he summoned me to his presence. He was pale and haggard. " Slave '. " nud he, " you have long braved my anger and revenge. Your courage and constancy displa> an elevated mind, and such is deserving of res- pect. For the future I leo.ve you unmolested. But now that I have promised this, you ne« have no more fear, so I command you to tell me your r*^al and sincere opinion J BBNJAMIV* 233 was it not a strange infataation which prompted you to disobey my ordersl" "My lord!" said I, "you are greatly mistaken. I have only re- fused to obey you because I was not at liberty to do what you command- ed. Heaven ia my witness that 1 was not influenced by obstinacy or Ul-will, but solely by a sense of duty." "Stop there!" cried Roum-al- Alaboulen. "Can what you say be true ? Do you mean to tell me that it was for the sake of your reli- gion that you endured so much suf- fering without a murmur ? " " Certainly, my lord," I replied. "My suflerings were borne for God's sake, and I trust he will re- ward me: that was my hope and my consolation." 234 BEITJAMIM. " You must hate me, I am sure," observed the renegade. "Hate you!" said i, oh no!— You must know that my rehgion comuiands the forgiveness of inju- ries, and that hatred can never find an entrance into a heart devoted to Godi ana submissive to His holy will. As for you, my lord! you have only been the instrument made use of for my sanctification." "True — most true. Now hear me!— I know and esteem you. 1 am surrounded by slaves who have sacrificed even their hopes of salva- tion to please me, and you alone have asserted your own principles— you alone have stood forward, an honest man, really worthy of my confidence. This I am now going to give you. You understand?— Will you— can you be my friend 1" ¥ I I BENJAMIN. 236 I Not knowing the drift of tlu^se questions, and fearing that they might possihly he meant (o ensnare me in some way, I knew not what to think, hut I quickly answered: " My lord ! any tiling that I can do to serve you, without infringing on my duty as a Christian, I will will- ingly do. You luay trust me for life or death." "I will then — even for death,'' ■aid the renegade with much so- lemnity. '*Sit down ther- and listen to me! — I have ahandoned the faith in which I was brought up. and I have denied the God of my youth, but my crime has not gone unpunished. I have had wealth io abundance, I have enjoyed all earth- ly pleasure, and have had a long ruD of prosperity, — in short, I have had all tha man covets here below, 186 BKN J AM I N. hi but all could not recompense me foi what I had voluntarily lost. My mouth blasphemed the Lord, but he was still in my heart, and I could not get him expelled, at least the continual remembrance of Him pur- sued me wheresoever I went; it embittered all my pleasures, disturb- ed me in my sleep, and enveloped me in a gloomy and impenetrable veil which shut out from me all the happiness of this world. Then, then did I curse God, that tyrant God who thus mercilessly persecuted me. I Bwore an eternal enmity against all who honored his name, and you know how well I have kept my word. I wanted to give Him hatred for hatred. Senseless project ! vain and silly presumption! Impotent fiiry! How dearly did I pay for having dared to conceive such • B K N J A M T M '4. . purpose ! liell itself took possession of my heart. I luive liv;.'tts(j<> I t48 0BH J A M I N . conclusion, cull the attention of my young readers to this most interest- ing point. Oh ! that they would, like Benja- min, fix heart and soul upon reU- gion, the most sacred obiect of theii love and veneration ! The practice of virtue, simplicity of iieart, the correction of one's own faults, and the acquiring of all those precioiM virtues which endears man to God, in short all those delights and con- Bolations which God, in is good- ness, has left to mankind even in the lowest grades of society ; all these are surely as deserving of the student's attention as the mere book- learning for which he goes to school. Let them no longer draw a line of distinction between the desire of ac- quiring knowledge and the improv©" J BKirJAiiiir. 241 ment of their mind and heart ; be- tween the love of human learning and that of Christian virtue. Then I can truly promise them that they shall do honor to their friends anc relations; that they shall be th pride and glory of their teacherHi and the objects of general esteem and respect like my little Pupil of the Christian Brothers. J N XT™ i J