FLOYD'S FLOWERS
OK
DUTY AND BEAUTY
FOR
COLORED CHILDREN
BEING ONE HUNDRED SHORT STORIES
GLEANED FROM THE STOREHOUSE OF
HUMAN KNOWLEDGE AND EXPERIENCE
SIMPLE AMUSING ELEVATING
BY
PROF. SELAS X. FLOYD, A. M., D. D.,
Author of "The Gospel of Service and other Sermons," "Lifb
of Charles T. Walker, D. D.," "National Perils," etc.
ILLUSTRATED BY
JOHN HENRY ADAMS
Professor of Art at Morris-Brown College, Atlanta
PUBLISHED BY
HERTEL, JENKINS & CO.
ATLANTA CHICAGO BOSTON
I
COPYBIGHT 1905
by
HERTEL, JENKINS & CO.
All Bights Reserved
I FEEL A PROFOUNDER REVERENCE FOR A BOY THAN A
MAN. I NEVER MEET A RAGGED BOY ON THE STREET WITH-
OUT FEELING THAT I OWE HIM A SALUTE, FOR I KNOW
NOT WHAT 'POSSIBILITIES MAY BE BUTTONED UP UNDER
HIS SHABBY COAT.
-JAMES A. GARFIELD.
Gen. Samuel C. Armstrong.
PUBLISHER'S NOTE.
The publishers of this book have spared neither
pains nor expense in trying to make it as nearly
perfect as a book of this kind can be. The typo¬
graphical appearance and the illustrations will
speak for themselves.
We consider ourselves fortunate in having
been able to secure the services of the Eev. Dr.
Silas X. Floyd as the author of this volume. Mr.
Floyd's life work, aside from his literary training,
has made him the ideal man to speak to the
colored boys and girls of the South. Soon after
graduating from Atlanta University in 1891, Mr.
Floyd became Principal of a Public School at
Augusta, Ga., and remained in that city for five
years consecutively as a teacher. In June, 1896,
he was called from the school-room into the Sun-
day-school work, having been appointed by the
International Sunday School Convention as one
of its Field Workers throughout the South. He
continued in this work for three years, retiring
from it to become Pastor of Tabernacle Baptist
Church, Augusta, Ga., one of the largest churches
in the South. After a year and a half in the pas¬
torate, he returned to the Sunday-school work,
becoming Sunday-school Missionary for . Georgia
and Alabama under appointment of the American
Baptist Publication Society. Two years ago,
5
6
PUBLISHER'S NOTE.
lie re-entered the school-room, and is now once
more Principal of a Public School at Augusta.
His school is one of the largest in the State of
Georgia.
Mr. Floyd's work, as the record shows, has
been conspicuously for and in behalf of the chil¬
dren, and he is known far and wide as a compe¬
tent writer and speaker on topics concerning
young people. He has contributed to the Sunday
School Times, the International Evangel, the New
York'Independent, The World's Work, Lippin-
cott's Magazine, and many other journals and
periodicals. He is the author of a volume of ser¬
mons published by the American Baptist Publi¬
cation Society and listed in their catalogue as
among their standard works, and is also the
author of the Life of the leading colored Baptist
preacher in America, published by the National
Baptist Publishing Board. From the beginning
of the Voice of the Negro, Mr. Floyd has had
charge of the Wayside Department as Editor,
and his work as a humorist and writer of negro
dialect is known to many through that me.dium.
In 1894, Atlanta University, his alma mater,
conferred upon Mr. Floyd the degree of Master
of Arts, and in 1902, Morris Brown College con¬
ferred upon him the degree of Doctor of Divinity.
THE PICTURES AND WHO MADE THEM.
A distinctive feature of this volume is the
inclusion of more than half a hundred of original
drawings by a young artist. Every boy and
every girl delights in pictures. There is some¬
thing in pictures, even though the subjects be
foreign to us, which readily takes -hold of our
innermost feelings and becomes companionable to
the extent that we find ourselves loving that
something whatever it is:—a man, or an humble
dog, or an old homestead, or what not. "We sel¬
dom think that some great mind has been hard at
work to produce that picture and that it takes
years and years of application and deep study
to prepare even a genius in art.
While you are enjoying the pleasures to be
derived from the "rough sketches" in this book
it is hoped that at the same time you will_ catch
the inspiration of the artist who made them. The
negro race has produced very few artists of note,
for very few of them have made a success in the
profession. Of that few, John Henry Adams is
second only to Tanner.
Coming up with little in his favor other than a
determination to "win" and the prayerfulness of
loving parents, John Adams kept himself in
school until he was thoroughly prepared to enter
upon life's sea as a thinker for and a master of
7
8 THE PICTURES AND WHO MADE THEM.
himself. Acquiring his art education at The
Drexel Institute, Philadelphia, Adams returned to
Atlanta and found a place to utilize his training
at the Morris Brown College, where he has been
eminently successful as a teacher, and where he
is loved and honored by all.
The lapse of twenty-six years is a very short
time to begin to measure a man's success, but Mr.
Adams has already succeeded. The demand for
his work is large and plenteous. If there is such
a thing as having more work than one can do, it
applies pointedly to him. Besides the many
fine and costly paintings which Mr. Adams makes
and sells, his '1 rough sketches" are quite popular
and "go like hot cakes." And, with all of this
he is a regular contributor to one daily paper,
two weekly papers and a monthly magazine.
This is but a glimpse of the man. His work as
trustee of city charities, his visitations to mission
houses and his liberal pocket-book show the more
tender side of the artist. When a foot-ball gam!e
is in progress there's another side of the man —
the enthusiast. But all the way through Mr.
Adams is ever the amiable gentleman, the vigor¬
ous thinker and worker, the friend of children
and a constant source of gladness to the poor of
Atlanta.
PUBLISHERS.
PREFACE.
Truly the boys and girls of to-day ought to be
thankful that they are alive. There never was
such a golden age for childhood and youth as the
present. To say nothing of the rich opportunities
for mental and spiritual development, what a
multitude of things have been provided for the
innocent pleasure, the wholesome recreation of
the young people of to-day; inventions that
remind one of the magic of the 4'Arabian
Nights"; tools of sport so perfect that one can¬
not imagine how they could be bettered; fascinat¬
ing games, all unknown in the days gone by;
books and papers upon which science, art and
literary skill have lavished modern resources —
all these and many other wonderful things have
fallen to the lot of the favored boys and girls of
to-day.
And now enterprising publishers of our grand
country are going to put the boys and
girls of America — and especially the colored
boys and girls of America — under obligation to
them, because they have decided to addv to the
list of good books for children and youths
already on the market. I use the word "good"
advisedly; for from the day that I was engaged
to write this book I have had in mind constantly
the thought of making it such a book as would
9
10
PREFACE.
tell for good. It is an old saying that 11 evil com¬
munications corrupt good manners,'' but evil
reading does more tlian this: for evil reading
corrupts good morals.
I have endeavored to put into this book of
stories for children only such things as might be
freely admitted into the best homes of the land,
and I have written with the hope that many
young-minds may be elevated by means of these
stories and many hearts filled with high and holy
aspirations. Our nation has a right to expect
that our boys and girls shall turn out to be good
men and good women, and this book is meant to
help in this process.
SILAS X. FLOYD.
CONTENTS
page
I. A Spelling Lesson 19
II. The Truth About Luck 22
ttll. An Evening at Home 26
IY. The Making of a Man 29
V. False Pride 33
-VI. Thanksgiving at Piney Grove.... 37
VII. The Loud Girl ■ 46
VIII. The Rowdy Boy 51
IX. Honesty 53
X. Uncle Ned and the Insurance So¬
licitor 56
XI. The Strenuous Life 61
XII. A Huimbug 64
XIII. A Candidate for Baptism 66
XIV. Going with the Crowd 72
XV. Mary and Her Dolls 75
XVI. Jaky Tolbert's Playmates -79
XVII. A Valentine Party 83
XVIII. "No Money Down" 86
XIX. Tommy's Baby Brother 90
XX. Keeping School 93
XXI. The School of the Street 96
XXII. The Fox Hunt 100
XXIII. A Bold Venture 105
XXIV. A Hero in Black 108
XXV. The Road to Success Ill
XXVI. Samuel C. Armstrong 114
XXVII. How to be Handsome 117
11
12
CONTENTS.
PAGE
XXVIII. Patience 119
XXIX. The Biter Bit 122
jXXX. The Alphabet of Success 124
XXXI. Easter Monday in Washington 125
XXXII. Keeping One's Engagements 129
XXXIII. A Midnight Mishap 131
XXXIY. Frederick Douglass 133
XXXV. Oue Dumb Animals 136
XXXYI. A Plucky Boy 138
XXXYII. A Heart-to-Heart Talk 141
XXXYIII. A Ghost Story 144
XXXIX. Good C^ieer 149
XL. Life a Battle 152
XLI. Ruled by Primitive Methods 155
XLII. Hunting an Easy Place. . 159
XLIII. Burt Bankston's Bequest 162
XLIY. The Big Black Burglar .. 166
XLY. Pin-Money Made with the Needle 169
XLYI. Self-Help 173
XLYII. Henry Ward Belcher's Testimony. 177
XLVIIT. Rounding up a Chicken Thief 180
XLIX. Shields Green, the Martyr 184
L. Aiming "at Something 186
LI. The Black Sheep op the Reynolds
Family .: 188
LII. The Holy Bible 196
LIII. Andrew Carnegie's Advice to Young
Men . 198
LIY. Directions for Little Gentlemen. . 200
LY. The Letter of the Law 202
LVI. The Best Books for Children 204
LVII. The Right to Play 207
LVIIL A Christmas Present 209
CONTENTS.
13
PAGE
LIX. Drinking and Smoking 211
LX. The Nickel that . Burned in
Frank's Pocket 214
LXI. Monument to a Black Man 217
LXII. The Bad Boy—Who He Is 219
LXIII. The Bad Boy—How to Help Him. . 221
LXIY. Thomas Greene Bethune ("Blind
Tom") 226
LXY. Not Fit to Know ! 229
LXYI. The Eight Way 231
LXYII. Keeping Friendship in Eepair 234
LXYIII. Little Annie's Christmas. 236
LXIX. The Yelocipede Eace 239
LXX. .Fault-Finding 241
LXXI. The Puritans'' Sabbath 244
LXXII. The Devil on an Excursion 247
LXXIIL Eandom Eemarks 250
LXXIY. Benjamin Banneker, the Negro
Astronomer 254
LXXY. "A Little Child Shall Lead
TkEM" 258
LXXYI. Directions for Little Ladies 264
LXXYII. Three Words to Young People 266
LXXYIII. "A Lamp Unto My Feet" 272
LXXIX. The Three Brigades 275
LXXX. "Home, Sweet Home" 277
LXXXI. Edmund Asa Ware 280
LXXXII. An Ante-Bellum Negro Preacher'. . 284
LXXXIII. Purity of Character 287
LXXXIY. Each One op Us of Importance 289
LXXXY. The Poetry of Life 290
LXXXYI. On Being in Earnest 292
LXXXYII. Young People and Life Insurance .. 294
14 CONTENTS.
PAGE
LXXXVIII. The Little Sailor Cat 297
LXXXIX. Advice to Little Christians 299
XC. A Word to Parents 301
XCI. A Helpeul Message 302
XCII. The Unseen Charmer 304
XCIII. Our Country 307
XCIY. The "Don't-Care" Girl 309
XCV. Negro Heroes 312
XCYI. Frederick Douglass to Young Peo¬
ple 315
XCVII. Too High a Dam 318
XCVIIL A Good Fellow 320
XCIX. The Future oe the Negro 321
C. The Training of Children 323
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.
PAGE
Frontispiece.
A Spelling Class 20
That's a Very Pretty Way to Spell "Love" 21
"How Many Papers Have You Sold Today,
Tommy ?" 23
An Evening at Home 27
Bobby and His "Man" 30
"Here is the Carpet, Young Man; I Hope I
Have not Kept You Waiting/' 34
Grace Before Going to School 38
Grace's Graduation 42
Blab-Mouthed and Noisy 47
Modest and Quiet 49
He Stuffs Both Hands in His Trousers Pockets 52
"How Much for the Melon?" 54
"Dat's Jes' What My 'ligion Does/' Said the
Old Man 57
"I Don't Break Easy" 62
"0, Get Out of the Way, Can't You?" 65
"Mother, I'm so Happy. Teacher Forgave Me". . 74
Mary and Her Dolls. 76
"I'm Going Over to Jaky's, Mamma" 80
Old Mrs. Gray. 84
"Papa I Ain't Got no Little Baby Brother
to Play with 91
Tootsie 94
Little Joe 97
15
16 ILLUSTRATIONS.
page
Uncle Hambright.
''You All Wait Until I Comb Back and Then
We'll Play at Fox-Hunting 103
"Lend Me Five Dollars" 106
A Hero in Black 109
The Road to Success ,113
How to be Handsome US
Patience 120
A Biter Bit 123
Keeping One's Engagements 130
A Midnight Mishap 132
Our Dumb Animals 137
"The Boy Marched Straight up to the
Counter" 140
A Heart-to-Heart Talk 142
"Huh! Huh! There Don't Seem to be But Two
of Us Here To-night" 145
"Charged with Kissing a Girl on the Street". . 157
"I Have Just Finished My Course in the High
School" 161
The Gambler 163
The Gambler in Old Age 165
The Big Black Burglar 168
Pin Money Made with the Needle 172
Washing Dollie's Clothes 175
"Son, It's a Mighty Lucky Thing for You and
Nannie that I Didn't Have My Gun-" 182
Aiming at Something 187
He Carried with Him Some Wild Flowers and
Green Leaves" 190
"Well, John, I Suppose Sister Is Dead" 194
Directions for Little Gentlemen 201
ILLUSTRATIONS.
17
PAGE
"Mamma Told Me Not to Ask for Any More
Cream-''' 203
The Best Books for Children" 205
"Mamma, I Hear Old Santa's Bells, and of
Course This Is the Present He Brought" .. 210
Drink and Tobacco 212
"A Quarter, Ma'am" 215
Monument to a Black Man 217
"Play Fantastic" on the Fourth of July 220
The Bad Boy—How to Help Him 222
Frances • 229
"I Got in the Hall Last Night for Nothing" . . 232
The Two Paths 235
"She Put Out Her Thin Little Hand and
Felt It" 237
The Velocipede Race 240
Fault-Finding 242
"Goodnis Gracious! I See dat Old Cycloom
Comin' Back Ag'in. He Look Blackah
and wussah dan He done BeFO. run,
Isaac, Run !" 248
"I Wish I Could Have My Way with Those
Boys for About Two Minutes" 251
Directions for Little Girls 265
"A Lamp Unto My Feet" 273
Members of the Rainy-Weather Brigade 276
Home, Sweet Home 278
"Saint Paul Was a Much Better Man dan I
Is, an' Dey Whupped Him Mosj Ev'ywhar
He Went" 285
Each One of Us of Importance 289
The Poetry of Life 290
Being in Earnest 293
18
ILLUSTRATIONS.
PAGE
Taking Out a Policy 295
The Little Sailor Cat 298
Advice to Little Christians 299
A Word to Parents 301
"Is—er—er—Mr. Hopegood in ?w 305
The "Don't-Care" Girl 310
Negro Heroes 313
Frederick Douglass 316
FLOYD'S FLOWERS
I.
A SPELLING LESSON.
The boys and girls of Public School No. 10
were glad to have a new girl, whose name
was Bertha Dent, enter their spelling class. The
little girl's mother told the teacher that the child
could probably keep up with the First Grade in
spelling, because she could spell such words as
"dog" and "hog" and "cat" and "rat" and
"bat."
It was not a great while before the teacher
called the spelling class. She asked Bertha, the
new girl, to stand with the class.
"You may spell 'dog,' Mary," said the teacher
to one of the girls,1' and tell us what kind of noise
-little dogs make.
"D-o-g, dog," said Mary, "and our little dog
says 'bow-wow-wow!' "
"That was very well done," said the teacher.
"Now, Annie, you may spell 'cat,' and tell us
what kind of noise little kittens make."
'1 C-a-t, cat,'' replied Annie, 11 and the little kit¬
ties sometimes say 'mew-mew,' and when the lit¬
tle doggies come 'round they bristle up and hiss
at the doggies."
19
20
A SPELLING LESSON.
"That's very well," responded tlie teacher.
"Sadie, you may spell 'bird,' and tell us what the
little "birds do."
"B-i~r-d, bird," said Sadie. ''We have a
pretty mocking bird that sings for us all the time;
most birds sing, but mama says there are some
A Spelling Class.
birds which are good to keep bugs and worms off
the vegetables and flowers."
"That is correct," the teacher made answer.
"Now, Bertha Dent, you may spell 'love7 for us,
and tell us what love does."
"Oh," said the new pupil, "I know very well
A SPELLING LESSON.
21
how to spell 'love.' " And then Bertha ran to
the teacher, threw her arms around the teacher's
neck, and gave her a sweet little kiss. "That is
the way mama told me to spell 'love,' " said
Bertha quietly, while the teacher and all the mem¬
bers of the spelling class smiled.
22
A SPELLING LESSON.
"That is a very pretty way to spell 'love,' "
said the teacher. "But don't yon know any other
way to spell 'love'1?"
"Why, yes," answered Bertha looking aronnd.
"I spell 'love* this way, too." Then she brushed
a fleck of dust from the teacher's sleeve, picked
up some papers that were scattered around on the
platform and arranged them on the desk. She,
also, pulled a tiny bit of thread off the teacher's
skirt. "I spell 'love' " said Bertha, "by working
for mama and papa and little brother, and trying
to make everybody happy."
The teacher drew the little girl close to her
side, threw one arm around the child's neck and
said,
"That is the very best way to spell 'love'; but
can't you spell 'love' the way the book spells it?"
"Oh, yes," said Bertha. "L^o-v-e, love."
The teacher hugged Bertha, called her a dear
little girl, and then dismissed the class.
n.
THE TRUTH ABOUT LUCK.
This is a world of order and system. There is
nothing haphazard about it. The sun rises and
sets according to a regular and unchanging law.
The tides come in and the tides go out not by
accident or chance, but in accordance with well-
defined laws. Winter and Summer, sunshine and
THE TRUTH ABOUT LUCK.
23
rain, follow each other in well-ordered succes¬
sion. What is true in the natural world is also
"How Many Papebs Have Yoir Sold To-day, Tommy?"
true in the moral and business worlds. A boy
reaps that which he sows and gains the prizes
24
THE TEUTH ABOUT LUCK.
for which he is willing to pay the price in labor
and self-denial. A divine law controls success
and defeat in this life and no strategem or trick
can take the place of hard work.
Some years ago, I happened to find myself near
the terminal of the great East River Bridge in
New York City. TW little boys were standing
near one of the large iron posts crying their
afternoon papers. I tarried near them because
I was waiting for a particular car. One little
fellow said to the other,
"How many papers have you sold to-day, Tom-
mie t''
"Nearly one hundred an' fifty" was Tommie's
quick reply.
"Honor bright?"
"Yes; honor bright."
"Whoopee! but ain't you in big luck, Tom¬
mies"
"Luck!" exclaimed Tommie, wiping the per¬
spiration from his brow. "There ain't no luck
about it; I've just been everlastingly at it since
four o'clock this morning—that's all!"
And that is the all of real success. Those who
achieve success are "everlastingly at" what they
are trying to do. Tommie was right in declining
to have his hard and honest work cheapened by
calling the result of it luck.
"You are the luckiest chap I ever saw," I once
heard a little boy about sixteen years say to
another boy of about the same age.
THE TRUTH ABOUT LUCK.
25
"Why do you say that?" asked the other.
"Because _you have had your salary raised
twice in the same year."
"Well," was the reply, "you may call it luck;
but I don't. I have always done my work the
very best I knew how. I have never once in the
whole year been a single minute late in getting to
the office, nor have I ever left a single minute
before it was time for me to leave. When I have
worked over-time, I have not made any fuss about
it. My boss said when he raised my salary last
week that he had taken these things into account.
So, I don't see where the luck comes in."
"All the same," said the first boy, "some
bosses wouldn't have raised your salary."
"Then I would have the satisfaction of know¬
ing that I had done my duty."
Boys, I tell you that's right. Nine out of ten
employers know that it is to their advantage
to show appreciation of faithful work and they
show it. When this appreciation comes luck has
had nothing to do with itj The thing that passes
for luck is in nearly all cases the just reward of
honest endeavor.
Do not, therefore, start out in life with the
expectation that some "lucky turn" will bring
you sudden honor or wealth or position without
any effort on your part. Substitute that fine old
word "work" for that deceitful word "luck,"
and base your hopes of future success and use¬
fulness upon the honorable labor that it is a God-
26
THE TRUTH ABOUT LUCK.
given privilege for every well and strong and
right-minded boy to give his heart and hands to
performing.
III.
AN EVENING AT HOME.
Boys and girls between the ages of eleven and
seventeen ought to spend their evenings at home,
as much as possible. In these busy, bustling twen¬
tieth century days, there are many families—so
much the worse for them—that scarcely know
what it is to spend an evening at home together*
Not only the young people but the older people
are 4'on the go." The evenings are crowded
with calls and invitations, which come from far
and near. It is nothing to go five or even ten
miles to an evening concert or social gathering,
the trolley is so near, so cheap and so univer¬
sal. But I tell you, boys and girls, no matter
what the pleasure or amusement afforded—no
matter what the instruction or culture received-
there are no social or similar opportunities good
enough to displace the home circle. The sooner
young people realize this the happier they will be.
Boys and girls ought to plan for some evenings
at home. Let other things have a share, but do
not give up all the time to other things. Once a
week the young people ought to arrange for an
evening at home. Decline everything else for
AN EVENING AT HOME. 27
that evening, the same as yon wonld for any
other engagement. Gather the family together.
Make a special place for grandma and grandpa.
Sing merry songs; play innocent and amusing
An Evening at Home.
games; take time to tell the home folks about
some of the things that you do and that you have
seen in the world; get acquainted with the home
folks; be delighted in their delight; by special
28 AN EVENING AT. HOME.
appointment, spend one or two cheerful hours
with the folks at home each week.
The young folks themselves should take the
lead in this matter. A home is not merely a
place with four walls where people meet to eat
and drink and sleep securely beneath a roof.
Nay, boys and girls, a house is reared to be a
home—the center where a family may gather
into one; to be a serene retreat where the tender-
est affections may find rest; where love may have a
dwelling place, and the amenities of life gain
ample scope; where parents and children may
press one another heart to heart; where sor¬
rows and joys may be freely shared in sacred
confidence; in a word, where the great work of
training human beings for the duties of the pres¬
ent life, and the perfection of another, may be
begun and carried on.
There is one special reason for making much
of the evenings at home that young people are
not likely to think of. Inevitably the family cir¬
cle will be broken up' very soon. Perhaps not by
death, but most certainly by change. When Fred
goes to college that "is the beginning of new ties
and new associations, and the home privileges
can never be quite so complete to him again.
The years of the complete unity of the home
are very few indeed. While these years are pass¬
ing, young people especially should make the
most of them. My dear boys and girls, get the
benefit of these years; get their joys; store up
AN EVENING AT. HOME. 29
memories of home life, for they will be in future
years the most beautiful pictures of the heart.
However some may sneer at it, the memory of
home and mother is a great power for righteous¬
ness. It has saved many a person to God and
native land and race.
"Be it ever so humble-
There 's no place like home."
IV.
THE MAKING OF A MAN.*
Mr. Stamps, seated near the table, was glanc¬
ing over the afternoon paper. Mrs. Stamps, in
an easy chair, was doing some fancy work. Little
Bobby, six years old, more or less, was playing
with his toys on the floor. All at once the pre¬
cocious little boy stopped short in the middle of
his sport and, looking up at his' mother, asked,—
"Manra, who made the world ?"
"God," replied Mrs. Stamps, sweetly.
"Who made the sea?" continued Bobby.
Mrs. Stamps answered, "God."
"Well," said Bobby, "did1 God make every¬
thing V'
"Yes, my son; the Lord made everything."
"And did he make everybody?"
♦Published in the Voice of the Negro.
30
THE MAKING OF A MAN.
"Yes; the Lord made everybody."
Bobby was silent for a moment. Presently he
looked anxiously at his father, and then, turning
to his mother, he asked,—
"Mama, did God make papa, too?"
"Yes; God made papa also."
After a lengthy pause Bobby asked,—
•Man,
"Mama, do you think that I could make a man,
if I was to try real hard?"
"You had better run out to play now, Bobby,"
said Mrs. Stamps, somewhat non-plused by her
son's curiosity.
Bobby left the room almost immediately. He
went straight to the beach in front of the house,
and labored long and earnestly in piling up some
wet sand. Pretty soon he was joined in his work
THE MAKING OF A MAN, 31
by two other little boys. For some time the three
little fellows worked vigorously in piling up the
mud. Mrs. Stamps called her husband to the
window, so that he might see what the boys were
doing.
1 'Wife," said Mr. Stanips, "I believe those little
Satans are trying to make a man.''
Toward sunset Bobby ran into the house and
exclaimed with delight,—
"Mama, we've got our man almost finished.
We didn't have but one marble, and we used that
for one of his eyes. I came in to ask you to give
me a marble, so that we might put in his other
eye."
"It's too late to bother now, Bobby," said Mrs.
Stamps. "Wait until to-morrow morning; then I
will give you a marble and let you finish your
man.''
The next morning, bright and early, Bobby went
out to look for his man. Lo and behold! the sea
had washed the man away during the night. But,
Bobby, of course, did not suspect that. He thought
that the man had gone away of his own accord.
So the little fellow spent the entire morning look¬
ing for his man. He looked under the house; he
looked in the stable; he went up to the garret; he
walked up and down the beach; he went into the
woods—looking for his man. But his man was
nowhere to be found,
Two or three weeks later an African Methodist
Episcopal Conference assembled in Bobby's town.
32
THE MAKING OF A MAN.
Among the ministers present there- happened to
be a short, chubby, tan-colored brother with only
one eye. When Bobby spied him he examined the
man curiously and cautiously from head to foot.
The examination ended, Bobby concluded that that
was his man. At once the little fellow left his
mother and went over and took a seat .beside
the man. Bobby 's mother was somewhat em¬
barrassed. The man was evidently pleased, al¬
though, to be sure, he himself was not quite cer¬
tain why he should be an object of special interest
to the little boy. The man went to the secretary's
table to have his name enrolled—Bobby went with
him. He went into the vestibule to get a drink of
water—and Bobby followed him there. But all
the while the man was still in doubt as to the
cause of the little boy's apparent affection. By
(this time, thoroughly exasperated, Bobby's mother
decided to go home. She approached the pew in
a very ladylike manner and said,—
"Bobby, dear, come; we must be going home
now.''
"All right, Mama/' said Bobby in dead ear¬
nest, "but you will please let me take my man
home with me—won't you? I just found him
to-day, and you know I've been looking for him
for over two weeks!''
Then, for the first time, it suddenly dawned
upon Mrs. Stamps what was the matter with
Bobby. In spite of herself she laughed heartily at
the boy's perversity. Finding that his mother
THE MAKING OF A MAN. 33
hesitated to reply, Bobby turned to the man and
said,—
"Come on: we're going home now. Why did
you leave before I finished you?"
Y.
FALSE PKIDE.
Once upon a time the head clerk in a carpet
store requested one of his junior clerks to go to
a patron's home to measure a room, and suggested
that he take along a five-yard sample. The junior
clerk objected to "carting" such a big bundle, as
he said, "all"over town," and asked that one of
the boys be sent with it. The proprietor of the
establishment, who happened to overhear the re¬
mark, privately told the head-clerk to inform the
proud young fellow that a boy would be sent on
after him with the roll. Shortly after the young
man reached the house, the proprietor of the estab¬
lishment covered him with confusion by appearing
at the house in person with the roll of carpet under
his arm. Handing the bundle to the bewildered
young man, the proprietor remarked:
"Here is the carpet, young man. I hope I have
not kept you waiting for it. If you have any other
orders, I'll take them now."
# # # # *
A young woman of my acquaintance refused to
carry home a yeast cake, though it was needed at
"Hebe is the Carpet, Young Man. I Hope I Have Not
Kept You Waiting."
FALSE PRIDE.
35
once for the family baking and she was bound
directly homeward. She said that she wasn't a
delivery wagon, and sothe yeast cake had to be
sent to her home.
A great many foolish young people are so ab¬
sorbingly regardful of their trim appearance on
the street that they will never under any circum¬
stances carry a basket or bundle, however much
inconvenience they may cause others by refusing
to do so.
*****
Now, it is not proper pride or self-respect which
prompts people to act as the young folks acted
whom I have just referred to. It is silliness which
prompts them to act so. Any honest work is hon¬
orable that is honorably done, and you will notice
that young people of good social position and
strength of character are above such pettiness.
Only inferior people act that way. Superior peo¬
ple do not act so, because they are well aware that
they cannot be compromised by doing straightfor¬
wardly, without fuss or apology, whatever needs
to be done. Yet, I admit, that it seems to be
human nature that whatever is distasteful or sup¬
posedly menial should be done by somebody else.
"When young people,, or old people for that matter,
are tempted to be foolish in such things they
should remember the lesson of humility that Christ
taught his disciples, when in that warm Oriental
country, where only sandals are worn, He per¬
formed the necessary service of washing the dis-
36
FALSE PRIDE.
ciples' feet. For us to be above our business—
for us to think ourselves too good or too dainty
to soil our bands with honest toil—for us to feel
that it is a lowering of our dignity to carry a bun¬
dle through the street, is to prove by our conduct
that we are not up to the level of our business, that
we are possessed of a great amount of false pride,
and, in a higher sense, it shows that we have a fool¬
ish and wicked distaste of true service. There is
nothing low, nothing degrading; nothing disgrace¬
ful, in honest labor, in honest work of any kind,
whether it be to boil an egg properly, to sweep a
floor well, to carry a bundle or package through
the streets, or bring a pail of water. In fact, if
somebody were to say that "chores" done or un¬
done are the making or the unmaking of boys and
girls, it would be a homely way of putting an im¬
portant truth. Bringing up coal or bringing in
wood, weeding the garden bed, running errands,
washing dishes, sewing seams, dusting furniture,
doing any odd jobs where there is need, cheer¬
fully, faithfully—these lead to the highway of
greater opportunities and are the usual avenues to
the only manhood and womanhood that is worth
having. My young friends, the castle of your
noblest dream is built out of what lies nearest at
hand. It is the uncommonly good use of common
things, the everyday opportunities, that makes
honored lives, and helps us, and helps us to help
others, along the sunroad. 4 4 He that is faithful
in that which is least is faithful also in much."
FALSE PKIDE.
37
"Pride goeth before destruction, and a haughty
spirit before a fall."
VI.
THANKSGIVING AT PINEY GROVE.
The people of the Piney Grove settlement, both
white and black, had been free for nearly a gen¬
eration. The whites had been freed from the curse
of being slave-holders, and the blacks had been
freed from the curse of being held in bondage.
But never in the history of this little town, in the
very heart of the so-called "Black Belt" of
Georgia, had the people known anything about the
proper observance of Thanksgiving Day until
189—. And in that year the revolution was
brought about by a young colored woman named
Grace Wilkins.
Grace Wilkins was the only daughter of Solo¬
mon and Amanda Wilkins. Solomon and his wife
were farmers—plain, simple, ordinary country
folk. Amanda was literally her husband's help¬
meet. She went along with him every morning to
the field, and, in season, chopped as much wood,
picked as much cotton, hoed as much corn, pulled
as much fodder, and plowed as much as her hus¬
band did. Up to her fourteenth year Grace had
been reared on a farm, and had learned to do all
the things that any farmer's child has to do—such
38 THANKSGIVING AT PINEY GROVE.
as milking cows, feeding hogs and chickens, hoe¬
ing cotton and corn, picking cotton, pulling fodder
and the like. In her fourteenth year, acting upon
the advice of an uneducated colored preacher, her
parents sent Grace away from home to attend one
j
Gbace Before Going to School.
of the great normal and industrial institutes for
the training of the black boys and girls of the
South.
At first her mother and father were filled with
forebodings. It was the first time that they had
ever allowed their daughter to be away from them,
THANKSGIVING AT PINEY GROVE. 39
and they missed her so much and longed for her
so constantly that they thought that they had
made a mistake in sending her off to "boardin'
school." Ignorant and superstitious neighbors,
though they knew as little about such matters as
did Solomon and Amanda, were loud in saying
that'1 Sol'' and '' Mandy'' would live to regret the
step they had taken in sending Grace away from
home. The only rays of sunshine that .came in to
brighten these periods of mental unrest and gloom
on the part of Mr. and Mrs. Wilkins were found
in the letters which they received regularly from
their daughter. Grace invariably informed her
parents, whenever she wrote, that she was "well
an' doin' well." Thus reassured from time to
time, Solomon and Amanda managed somehow to
undergo the terrible strain of having their daugh¬
ter absent from them for eight months. But mean¬
time they were firmly of the opinion that, once
they got their hands on her again, they would
never allow Grace to return to school.
With glad and thankful hearts Mr. and Mrs.
Wilkins joyously embraced their daughter when
she came home at the close of her first year in
school. With keen and genuine interest, they lis¬
tened to her wonderful accounts of the great school
and of the great man at the head of it. Grace
dressed differently and talked differently; and her
mother said, speaking one day in confidence to her
husband shortly after Grace's return, "Dat gal's
sho got a new walk on her!"
40 THANKSGIVING AT PINEY GROVE'.
Grace Wilkins brought back a toothbrush, with:
her from school. That was something which she
had never had before. She used that toothbrush
every morning and night. That was something
that she had never done before. She was now care¬
ful to keep her hair well combed every day. That
was something that she had been accustomed to do
on Sundays only or on special occasions. She
washed her face two or three times a day now, as
her mother and father noticed. Before she went to
school she had been in the habit of giving her face,
as the old people say,'' a lick and a promise -' early
each morning. Besides, Grace kept the house
cleaner than she had kept it before. She brought
home with her a brand new Bible which she read
regularly at home and always carried to church
and Sunday school. She also had a song book
called "Jubilee Songs and Plantation Melodies,"
and it gladdened the hearts of the good '' old folks
at home'' to hear their daughter sing from a book
some of the very songs that they had sung all their
lifetime and which were so dear to them.
All these things and others made a deep and
abiding impression upon Solomon and his wife.
And finding that withal their daughter was just as
loving and kind as she had been before, and that
she was just as industrious and faithful as form¬
erly, Mr. and Mrs. Wilkins were not long in de¬
ciding that their daughter should go back to that
school another year, and that they would work
hard and stint themselves in order that they might
THANKSGIVING AT PINEY GROVE, 41
ikeep her there until she had finished the normal
course.
So back "to school Grace Wilkins went—that
year, and the next year, and the next. It was the
proudest day in Solomon's and Amanda's lives
when they sat in the magnificent chapel of the
school and heard their daughter read her gradua¬
tion essay on "The Gospel of Service." Glad tears
welled up in their eyes when they heard the prin¬
cipal call their daughter's name, and then saw
Grace step up to receive her certificate of gradua¬
tion.
Coming back to Piney Grove to live, "Miss
Gracie"—everybody called her that after gradua¬
tion—established a little school which she called
"The Piney Grove Academy." It was the first
public school for colored children ever opened
within the corporate limits of the little village.
Before that the schools were district schools or
county schools, which were taught about in dif¬
ferent places for. only three or four months in the
year, mainly during the summer. Miss Gracie be¬
gan her school the first day of October. By special
arrangement she used the first three months for
the public term allowed by the state, and supple¬
mented that with a five-months term, for which the
pupils were required to pay fifty cents each per
month. The plan worked well, the parents joining
in heartily in the movement, and the Piney Grove
Academy soon became the model school for the
surrounding counties.
42 THANKSGIVING AT PINEY GROVE.
Grace s Graduation.
Among other tilings Miss Gracie had learned
at school what was the import of our national
Thanksgiving Day. At the opening of the second
THANKSGIVING AT PINEY GROVE. 43
year of the Piney Grove Academy she decided
that she would inaugurate an annual Thanksgiving
service. Accordingly on the opening day of the
second year Miss Gracie informed the pupils of her
plan, and told them that she would begin the very
next day to prepare a suitable program for the
exercises. Afterwards Miss Gracie secured the co¬
operation of the village pastor—the same man who
had been instrumental in having her parents send
her away to school. Through him she was per¬
mitted to talk to the people at the church two or
three times about the proposed celebration. She
was careful to tell them that the Thanksgiving
festival was meant specially to be a home festival
in addition to being a time for the people to come
together in their accustomed places of worship to
thank God for the blessings of the year. She urged
them, therefore, as far as they were able without
going to unnecessary expense, to have family din¬
ners and bring together at one time and in one
place as many members of the family as possible.
She explained to them how this might be done
successfully and economically, and with pleasiire
and profit to all concerned. She also urged them
to be planning beforehand so that nothing might
prevent their attending churchr Thanksgiving Day
morning. She was going to hold the exercises in
the church, because her little school was not large
enough to furnish an assembly hall for the people
who would be likely to be present.
On Thanksgiving Day nearly everybody in town
44 THANKSGIVING AT PINEY GROVE.
went to the exercises. Many white people attended,
including the county school- commissioner and the
school trustees. It was the first Thanksgiving
service that any of them had ever witnessed.
The program was made up, for the most part,
of choice selections from negro authors, composers,
orators, and so forth. A selection from Frederick
Douglass on "Patriotism" was declaimed; one
from Booker T. Washington's Atlanta Exposition
speech was also delivered. Paul Laurence Dun¬
bar's poem entitled "Signs of the Times" (a
Thanksgiving poem) was read by one of the
pupils, and also1' The Party,'' another of Dunbar's
pieces, was rendered. "The Negro National
Hymn," words by James W. Johnson and music
by his brother, Eosamond Johnson, was sung by a
chorus of fifty voices. At the opening of the serv¬
ice the president's Thanksgiving proclamation
was read and appropriate remarks were made by
Miss "Wilkins. The closing remarks were made by
the Eev. John Jones, the village pastor. The re¬
marks of Mr. Jones were in the congratulatory
mood. He was naturally proud of Miss Grade's
achievements, because he had had something to do
with putting her on the road to an education. He
spoke of the teacher as the leaven that was leaven¬
ing the whole lump, and the applause which fol¬
lowed the statement showed plainly the high
esteem in which the teacher was held by all the
people. Everyone enjoyed the service. None of
the villagers had ever seen anything like it before.
THANKSGIVING AT PINET GROVE. 45
After singing "America" all of them went away
happy, many of them, in obedience to Miss Grade's
previous counsel, going home to eat for the first
time, well knowing what they, were doing, a
Thanksgiving dinner.
At the home of Miss Wilkins there was an ex¬
cellent spread of - 'possum, potatoes, rice, chicken,
pickles, macaroni, bread, a precious Thanksgiving
turkey, and the inevitable mincemeat pie. Besides
Miss Gracie, there sat at the table that day her
parents, Mr. and Mrs. Solomon Wilkins, John and
Joseph Wilkins, brothers of Solomon who had
come from a distance, Mary Andrews, a sister of
Mrs. Wilkins, who also came from a distance,
Grandma Wilkins, Grandma and Grandpa An¬
drews, the Rev. John Jones, his wife, his daughter,
and his only son, Jasper Jones.
Jasper had gone to school at T one year
after Gracie went, and, of course, was one year
later in finishing the course there. On this Thanks¬
giving Day, nevertheless, he had been out of school
long enough to have successfully established him¬
self in the business of poultry raising and dairy-
ing.
Just before ,the dinner party was dismissed the
Eev. Mr. Jones arose and said:
"There is another little ceremony you'all is
invited to witness befo' you go out to see the base¬
ball game. I am authorized by these credentials
which I hoi' in my hands to unite in the holy bonds
of matrimony Miss Grace Wilkins and Mr. Jasper
46 THANKSGIVING AT PINEY GROVE.
Jones. If there is no objection, these two persons
will please stan' up, an' I'll tie the knot."
Of course there were no objections. The knot
was tied. And when the villagers learned of the
occurrence not long, afterwards they had addi¬
tional reason for believing that they were right
when they voted that Piney Grove had never seen
the like of such a- Thanksgiving Day, and that
Miss Gracie Wilkins was one of the best women
in all the world.
vn.
THE LOUD GIRL.
I do not know of a more sorrowful spectacle than
that of a girl who is loud in her dress, loud in her
manners, and loud in her speech. It is a great mis¬
take for a girl to suppose that this loudness will be
mistaken by her friends and acquaintances for
smartness. The desire to be regarded as bright and
witty has led many a girl into the folly of being
loud in her manners. She often cherishes the illu¬
sion that the attention such manners attract is
combined with admiration, when the truth is that
those who witness her strange conduct are simply
wondering how it is possible for her to throw to
the winds that charm of all girlhood—modesty.
One afternoon not long ago I saw a group of
girls of the loud type. They came into the street
car in which I was sitting. They all wore
THE LOUD GIRL.
47
boys' hats. One wore a vivid red jacket with brass
buttons, and another had on a brass belt. A third
one had on a most conspicuous plaid skirt. This
third one had a box of bonbons, and when the three
Blab-Mouthed and Noisy.
were seated she opened the box and offered it to
her companions, saying as she did so, in a voice
loud enough and shrill enough to be heard in
every part of the car:
48
THE LOUD GIRL.
" It's my treat; have some, chums!''
Upon this invitation one of the girls dived down
into the box like a hungry bear, and held up .a
piece of the candy in triumph and then dashed it
into her mouth with a great guffaw. 1' 0, Mame!''
said one of the girls, 4 4if you ain't just horrid to
go and take the very piece I wanted!''
"Mame" laughed and, taking the candy from
her mouth, offered it to the other girl, saying as
she did so:
"Well, here it is, Lulu!".
'' Lulu'' struck, the candy from '' Mame's'' hand,
and it flew across the aisle into the lap of a lady
sitting opposite the girls. This set all three of the
girls to giggling and tittering, and they seemed
in danger of convulsions when the owner of the
box of candy let it fall and a part of the candy
rolled out on the floor,
The conductor came forward and picked up the
box and candy and-handed them to the owner.
She giggled -out her thanks, and "Lulu" said:
"Why didn't you give him a gumdrop for his
trouble ?''
This seemed to impress the other girls as a most
brilliant witticism, and they fell to tittering vio¬
lently over it.
Presently a gentleman came in and stumbled
slightly over the feet of one of the girls thrust
out into the aisle.
"I beg your pardon," said the gentleman, as he
lifted his hat, whereupon the three girls grinned
Modest and Quiet.
50
THE LOUD GIRL.
and giggled and giggled and grinned immoderate¬
ly, and one of them said:
"Roxy, yon liad better ride out on the platform,
where there is more room for your feet!"
"Roxy" then struck "Lulu" for making this
speech. "Lulu" pretended to be much offended
and flung herself over to the other side of the car,
where she made a grimace at the other girls.
The conduct of these girls during the half hour
that they were on the car was such as caused every
father and mother who saw them to regard them
with pity. The loud girl, my dear readers, is
always an object of pity. She should be a
sorry object for her own contemplation. An old
writer has said: "You little know what you have
done when you have first broken the bounds of
modesty; you have set open the door of your fancy
to the devil, so that he can represent the same sin¬
ful pleasure to you anew."
Now, the loud girl may be entirely innocent of
any actual wrong-doing, but she is regarded with
dislike, distrust, and even disdain, by the better
class of people. She acquires a reputation for rude¬
ness and coarseness, and the people of refinement
will not associate with her. Her character suffers,
no matter how innocent she may be of any inten¬
tion of doing wrong. Delicacy, modesty, is the cer¬
tain sign of sweetness, purity and gentleness of
character, just as indelicacy is the certain sign of a
lack of these beautiful traits.
THE ROWDY BOY.
51
vm.
THE ROWDY BOY.
You can tell him wherever you see him. There
are certain marks or appearances which he carries
about with him and which are never absent. For
one thing you will find him with a cigarette stuck
in his mouth, and a cigarette is one of the deadliest
poisons in the world for boy or man. He wears his
hat on the side or cocked back on his head. Fre¬
quently he stuffs both hands in his trousers' pock¬
ets. He doesn't attend school regularly; sometimes
he starts for school and ends at the bathing pond
or the baseball park. He is late at Sunday school,
if he goes at all, and he stands 'round on the out¬
side at church while the service is going on inside.
He steals rides on trains and on trolley cars, and on
passing vehicles of all descriptions. He is saucy
and impudent to older people, and is always ready
and willing to quarrel or fight with his mates. He
is what the boys call a "bully."
The loud girl and the rowdy boy are two things
of which we have seen enough in this world. They
are things; they are hardly worth the dignity of
being called human beings.
I saw one of these rowdy boys in his own home
not a great while ago. His mother said to him:
4'Johnnie, you must always take off your hat
whenever you come into the house."
"Good gracious alive," he said, "I can't do
52
THE ROWDY BOY.
anything right. What is the use of grabbing off
your hat every time you come into your own
house ?''
His mother looked sad, but said nothing. Pres-
He Stuffs Both Hands in His Trousers Pockets.
ently she discovered that her little boy had
brought some mud into the house on his shoes.
In her sweetest tones she said:
" Johnnie, you must go to the door and wipe
THE ROWDY BOY.
53
your feet now. See how yon are tracking np the
floor there!''
'' Well,'' said the rowdy boy with a snarl,1' can't
the old floor be scoured ? You must think this old
house is gold."
Now, I am a preacher, boys, and, being a preach¬
er, of course I am what is called a "man of peace,"
but I tell you that that was one time I came pretty
near wishing that I wasn't a preacher so that I
might have given that boy what he deserved. I
was sorry, for the time being, that he wasn't my
son. No manly little boy will ever talk to his
mother in any such way. I suppose that boy
thought it made him appear to be a very impor¬
tant personage, but he was very much mistaken.
"Don't be rowdy, boys; don't be rough; don't be
rude. You were made for better things.
IX.
HONESTY.
Early in the morning two little boys came to
the market place. They arranged their little stands
and spread out their wares, and sat down to wait
for customers. One sold watermelons and fruit,
and the other sold fish and oysters. The hours
passed on and both were doing well. By-and-by
Sammie had only one melon left on his stand. A
gentleman came along and said:
54
HONESTY.
"What a fine, large melon! I think I will buy
that one. What do yon ask for it, my boy?"
"This is my last melon, sir; and though it looks
"How Much for the Melon?"
fair, there is an unsound spot on the other side,"
said the boy, turning the melon over.
'' So there is,'' said the man.'' I don't believe I '11
take it. But," he added, looking straight at the
HONESTY.
55
boy, "is it very good business for you to point out
the defects of your goods to customers?"
"Perhaps not, sir," said the boy with becoming
modesty, 4' but it is better than being dishonest.''
"You are right, my boy; always speak the truth
and you will find favor with God and man. I shall
not forget your little stand in the future."
Then turning to the other boy's stand the man
asked:
"Are those fresh oysters?"
"Yes, sir," said Freddie, "these are fresh this
morning—just arrived."
The gentleman bought them and went away.
"Sammie," said Freddie, "you never will learn
any sense. What did you want to show that man
that spot on the melon for I He never would have
looked at it until he got home. I've got an eye to
business, myself. You see how I got rid of those
stale oysters—sold them for just the same price
as fresh oysters.''
"Freddie," said the other boy, "I wouldn't tell
a lie, or act one either, for twice the money we have
both earned today. Besides I have gained a cus¬
tomer and you have lost one."
And it turned out just as Sammie said. The next
day the gentleman bought a large supply of fruit
from Sammie, but he never spent another penny
at Freddie's stand. It continued that way through
all the summer. At the close of the season he took
Sammie into his store, and, after awhile, gave him
a share in the business.
56 UNCLE NED AND THE SOLICITOR.
X.
UNCLE NED AND THE INSURANCE.
SOLICITOR.*
Turner Tanksley, a representative of the Work-
ingmen's Industrial Aid Insurance Company,
called upon Edmund Grant, an elderly colored
man, with a view to getting him to insure his life.
"Good morning, Uncle Ned," said Mr. Tanks-
ley.
*1 Mawnin', Boss,'' said the old man, raising his
hat and making a low courtesy.
"Uncle Ned, do you carry any insurance?" in¬
quired the solicitor.
"Does I car'y what?" asked Uncle Ned in great
surprise.
"Do you carry any insurance? Is your life in¬
sured?" asked the solicitor by way of explanation.
"Bless Gawd! Yas, yas," replied the colored
man, "long ago—long ago."
Then the solicitor asked: "In what company?"
Uncle Ned answered: "I'm a Baptis', sah; I'm
a Baptis'—a deep-watah Baptis'."
Mr. Tanksley realized that the old man had not
understood the question, but, anyhow, he asked:
"How long has it been since you joined?"
"I j'ined," replied Uncle Ned, "de same year
*Published in Lippineott's Magazine.
"Dat's jes' what My 'ligion Does," said the Old Man.
58 UNCLE NED AND THE SOLICITOR.
dat de stars fell—I reckon yon know how long
dat's. been?"
'4That's a long while," commented the insur¬
ance man; "quite a long while. Does your com¬
pany pay any dividends?"
"Boss," said Uncle Ned with a broad grin, "dat
question is plumb out uv my reach. What is you
tryin' to git at?"
"Why, Uncle Ned," said Mr. Tanksley, "a divi¬
dend is interest paid on your money; and if you
have been paying your money into one company
for more than thirty years surely you ought to
have been receiving your dividends long before
now, especially if it's an old-line company."
"Well," said Uncle Ned, "hit sho is de ole-line
comp'ny—hit sho is. De Lawd sot hit up Hisse'f
'way back yondah on Calvaree's tree. But I ain't
nevah hyeahed tell uv no intrus' nor no diwer-
dens ner nothin' uv dat sawt; an' you ain't hyeah
me say nothin' 'tall 'bout payin' in no money fer
thirty yeahs—you know you ain't. Salvation's
free, white man; salvation's free—you knows dat
ez well ez I does.''
The way Uncle Ned laughed when he had de¬
livered himself of this remarkable speech would
have done your soul good.
1' Oh, I see,'' said Mr. Tanksley with much con¬
descension,. "I see that I've misunderstood you.
iYou're talking about your soul's salvation."
"Dat's what I is," chimed in Uncle Ned, "dat's
what I is."
UNCLE NED AND THE SOLICITOR. 59
"I came," resumed the solicitor, "to talk to you
about insuring your body in case of accident, sick¬
ness or death."
"Accerdents is fer us all," said Uncle Ned, with
a far-away expression on his face, "accerdents is
fer us all, an' dah ain't no gittin' 'roun' death."
"That's true," responded the patient solicitor,
"that's true; insurance companies can't prevent
sickness and accidents and death any more than
you can, Uncle Ned, but insurance companies can
and do help you to bear your burdens in the time
of trouble.''
"Dat's jes' what my 'ligion does," said the old
man with supreme satisfaction, "dat's jes' what
my 'ligion does'."
"But we do it in a different way," persisted the
solicitor.
"Well, how does y'all do?" asked Uncle Ned.
Then the solicitor went -over the details of the
Workingmen's Industrial Aid Insurance Company
with his accustomed rapidity, telling about the
initiation fees, monthly premiums, accident bene¬
fits, sick benefits, etc., etc., laying much stress
especially upon the "endowment fund" that
would be paid upon the death of the insured.
When he had finished the elaborate narrative
Uncle Ned, who had given the most earnest atten¬
tion to the speaker, inquired:
"Boss, who you say de money goes to w'en I
dies?"
"To your wife," answered the solicitor, "or
your children, or anybody you might name."
60 UNCLE NED AND THE SOLICITOR.
"Well, Boss," said the old man, "lemme ax you
one question: Don't you think dat would he'p de
uddah fellah mo'n hit would me?"
"What other fellow?" asked Mr. Tanksley.
"My ole 'oman's secon' husban'," replied Ned;
"you know des ez good ez I does dat ef I wuz to
die an' leave my ole 'oman two hundred or three
hundred dollars, dah'd be some cullud gent'man
.done changed her name 'fo' ole Ned got cole in de
groun'."
Uncle Ned's originality made it very hard for
Turner Tanksley to suppress a smile. Without
giving the solicitor a chance to speak, Uncle Ned
continued:
"An' dah's anuddah way to look at hit. Wim-
mins is mighty cu'ious. Yas, sah; wimmins is
mighty cu'ious. Ef I wuz to go into dis thing
you's tellin' me 'bout, I dasn't let Dinah know hit.
White man, you don't know—no, sah, you don't
know. Ef dat 'oman knowed she'd git all dat
money w'en I died, she would sho put a spidah
in my dumplin'—she sho would, an' fuss thing I
know I'd wake up some mawnin' an' fine myse'f
dead, an' all on account uv dis thing dat you calls
'showance. No, sah, I don't want nothin' to do
wid hit. De Baptis' church is good 'miff fer me."
When the solicitor turned the corner he heard
Uncle Ned singing some kind of religious song
with the following refrain:
"I'm Baptis' bred, an' Baptis' bo'n.
An' w'en I die, dah's a Baptis' gone."
THE STRENUOUS LIFE.
61
XL
THE STRENUOUS LIFE.
They were having a rough-and-tumble time of it
and Pansy was getting some pretty hard blows.
She took them all good-naturedly, nevertheless,
and tried to give as good as she received, much to
the delight of her little boy friends. A lady who
was standing near, afraid for the little girl, chided
the boys and said:
"You shouldn't handle Pansy so roughly—you
might hurt her."
And then Pansy looked up in sweet surprise and
said with amusing seriousness:
"No; they won't hurt me. I don't break easy."
It was a thoroughly childlike expression, but it
had more wisdom in it than Pansy knew. She
spoke out of a little girl's experience with dolls,
some of which, as she had learned, broke very eas¬
ily. Pansy knew how delightful it was to have a
doll that didn't break so easily. Though she was
not a homely girl by any means, and though she
was not a wicked little girl, yet she wanted it un¬
derstood that she was not like a piece of china.
That was why the other children liked her so
much—because she knew how to rough it without
crying or complaining at every turn. Pansy was
not a cry-baby.
There is all the time, my dear boys and girls,
a great demand everywhere all through life for
62
THE STRENUOUS LIFE,
people who don't break easily.—people who know
how to take hard knocks without going all to
pieces. The game of life is sometimes rough, even
"I Don't Bkeak Easy."
among those who mean to play fair. It is very
trying when we have to deal with people who
break easily, and are always getting hurt and
THE STRENUOUS LIFE. 63
spoiling the game with their tears and complaints.
It is so much better when we have to deal with
people who, like little Pansy, do not break easily.
Some of them will laugh off the hardest words
without wincing at all. Yon can jostle them as
you will, but they don't fall down every time you
shove them, and they don't cry every time they
are pushed aside. You can't but like them, they
take life so heartily and so sensibly. You don't
have to hold yourself in with them all the time.
You can let yourself out freely without being on
pins as to the result. Young people of this class
make good playmates or good work-fellows, as the
case may be.
So, boys and girls, you must learn to rough it
a little. Don't be a china doll, going to smash at
every hard knock. If you get hard blows take
them cheerily and as easily as you can. Even if
seine blow comes when you least expect it> and
knocks you off your feet for a minute, don't let it
floor you long. Everybody likes the fellow who
can get up when he is knocked down and blink the
tears away and . pitch in again. Learning to get
yourself accustomed to a little hard treatment will
be good for you. Hard words and hard fortune
often make us—if 'we don't let them break us.
Stand up to your work or play courageously, and
when you hear words that hurt, when you are hit
hard with the blunders or misdeeds of others,
when life goes roughly with you, keep right on in
a happy, companionable, courageous, helpful
64 THE STRENUOUS LIFE.
spirit, and let the world know that you don't
break easily.
XII.
A HUMBUG.
A boy or girl who is pleasant and agreeable
everywhere except at home is a humbug. I know
one boy who is a good deal of a humbug, although
you would never think so if you were to see him in
any place outside of his home. He is good-looking,
neat and tidy, and carries himself like a little man.
I do not know of a boy who can tip his hat more
gracefully to a lady, or who can say, "I beg your
pardon," or "excuse me, please," more pleasantly
than he can. But, for all that, he is a humbug.
I visited his home the other day. I heard his
mother speak to him.
"Alexander," she said.
"Well, what do you want?" he asked in a voice
which plainly indicated his displeasure.
"I want you to do something for me."
"Oh, you are always wanting me to do some¬
thing just when I want to be doing something
else,'' said Alexander, and this time he was whin¬
ing.
In departing on his errand Alexander acciden¬
tally ran against his little sister in the hall. I ex¬
pected to hear him say, "I beg your pardon" in
A HUMBUG. 65
the pleasant way that I knew he could say it, but
he snapped out instead:
"Oh, get out of the way, can't you?"
"Oh, Get Out of the Wat, Can't You?"
"When he returned from the postoffice Alex¬
ander's mother was out in the yard trimming the
flowers. While Alexander was reporting to her,
66
A HUMBUG.
she happened to drop her scissors. I expected to
see her polite and dutiful son pick them up, as he
was close by when the scissors fell; but the boy-
paid no attention to the scissors. When his mother
said: "Please pick up my scissors for me, Alex¬
ander/' he said:
"What did you drop 'em for?"
I spent the best part of one whole day at Alex¬
ander 's home, and never once during all that day
did I hear him speak politely to his mother or
sisters, nor did he observe the ordinary rules of
courtesy and good behavior in their presence. He
was continually grumbling and complaining and
finding fault. So I think I have a right to say
that this boy is a good deal of a humbug. Any
boy is a humbug who is polite and gracious to
others and in every way discourteous and dis¬
agreeable at home. Don't you think so, too?
xni.
A CANDIDATE FOR BAPTISM.*
At the close of the regular prayer-meeting serv¬
ice the pastor of the New Mount Zion Colored Bap¬
tist Church, according to custom, stepped to the
front of the platform and inquired:
"Is dar anybody present"tonight who would like
to jine dis church? Ef so, please stan' up."
♦Published in Lippinfcott's Magazine.
A CANDIDATE FOR BAPTISM. 67
Whereupon a little girl, apparently fourteen or
fifteen years old, stood. The parson said:
"Take yo' seat. Dah's one; de church will set
togeddah atter dismission an' hyeah f 'urn dis little
lamb."
The benediction having been pronounced, all
the sinners were asked to leave the room. Only
church members are allowed to remain for these
"after meetings." When the room was cleared
of all "the goats" a pompous-looking individual,
perhaps a deacon of the church, arose and said:
"Bruddah Pastur, de house is in ordah an'
ready fur business."
The pastor then asked the little girl who was
seeking admission to come forward. She gave her
name to a one-eyed man seated at a table in front,
who, after a laborious effort, passed it up on a
j^iece of paper to the preacher. The preacher, re¬
adjusting his brass-rimmed spectacles, looked at
the piece of paper for a long while, and then raised
his head and said:
"Bruddahs an' sistahs, dis is little Queen Vic¬
toria Davis, who comes to tell us what de Lawd
has done fur her soul." Then, turning to the girl,
he said: "My daughtah, we wants you to tell us
what fuss started you to prayin', and how you
foun' de Lawd, an' so on an' so fo'th. Speak loud
so all kin hyeah."
The little girl began as follows:
"Well, bruddahs and sistahs, what fuss started
me to prayin' was dat I knowed dat I had a soul
68 A CANDIDATE FOR BAPTISM.
to save, an' ef I didn't git religion liell would slio
be my home.''
"True! True!" exclaimed a number of men
and women in chorus.
"An' den," continued.Queen Victoria, "I want¬
ed to start to servin' de Lawd while I was young:
I wanted to give Him my bes' days.''
"Amen," said one old brother.
"Well," asked the pastor, "how did you feel
while you was seekin' de Lawd?"
The girl hesitated a moment, evidently in doubt
as to the exact purport of the question. Finally
she said:
"I felt like I wanted to be saved."
This answer not exactly suiting the parson, he
put the question in a different way. Said he:
"Did you feel light er did you feel heavy while
you was a-prayin ' f "
"I felt both," said the little girl in unaffected
innocence. Funereal groans of pity swept through
the congregation. The preacher tried again. This
time he asked:
"Did you feel light de mos' er did you feel
heavy de mos'f "
When Queen Victoria responded, "I felt heavy
de mos'," a wave of approval greeted the remark.
"W'en did dat heavy load leave you?" asked
the parson.
"Las' Friday night," said Queen Victoria;
"las' Friday night. I kep' on a-prayin' an'
a-prayin', an' I didn't feel no bettah untell I made:
A CANDIDATE FOR BAPTISM. 69
up my min' dat I was a-gwine tah fin' de Lawd er
die a-tryin'. An' las' Friday night de Sperrit met
me an' spoke peace to my soul. I hyeahed a little
voice, but I saw no man, an' de little voice said to
me, 'Go in peace an' sin no mo': yo' sins is fur-
given an' yo' soul sot free'."
At this everybody shouted assent. 1' Glory! Hal¬
lelujah!" exclaimed an elderly sister.
"Now, my daughtah," said the preacher, "how
did you feel atter dat f"
"I felt light ez a feathah," said the child. There
was another shout of approval, Queen Victoria
having hit upon the regulation answer.
"Ef you was to die now, whar would you go?"
inquired the examiner.
"To heaven," was the reply.
"Ef you had 'a' died in yo' sins, whar would
you 'a' went?"
"I would 'a' went to hell," said the girl.
"Would Gawd 'a' been jest in sendin' you to
hell?"
"No, sah!" exclaimed the applicant. Many of
the hearers laughed. The preacher raised his
hand and said:
"Don't laff; don't laff; de chile is young yit,
an' she's got to learn."
Then by a series of leading questions, mainly
concerning parental government, the old pastor
brought the child around to the point where she
saw, or where she was willing to say that she saw,
that it was just for God to send people to hell.
70 A CANDIDATE FOR BAPTISM.
"Do you want to jine dis church?" continued
the questioner.
"Yes, sah," said the applicant.
"Dis is a Baptis' church, you know," explained
the pastor; "we baptize hyeah by putting people
deep down undah de watah. Ain't you skeered uv
cole watah in de wintah time ?''
"Watah can't git too cole fur me," said the lit¬
tle girl, "I got de grace uv Gawd in my heart."
The people fairly whooped at this (as in their
superstition they supposed) supreme manifesta¬
tion of faith.
'The pastor then turned to the congregation and
said:
"Is dah any uddah questions?"
An old brother near the stove arose and said:
"Bruddah Pastur, I ain't hyeahed de chile say
whar she was at w'en de change took place."
Queen Victoria responded:
"I was at de Bridge Street church las' Friday
night.''
The old brother nodded, as if completely satis¬
fied with the answer. Then he asked:
"How long is you willin' to trus' dis hope?"
'' Tell I diesj'' said the applicant. Down sat the
questioner.
"Any mo' questions?" asked the pastor.
A sister stood.
"Honey/' she said, "is you got any parrunts
livin'?"
"Yas'm," was the reply; "my ma an' my pa is
A CANDIDATE FOR BAPTISM. 71
both, livin', an' dey's both out in de ole fieP uv
sin.''
"Lawd 'a' mussy!" exclaimed several of the
hearers. The sister who asked the question sat
bathed in tears.
A brother in the rear arose and said:
"I has a question dat I wants to ax: I wants
to know, daughtah, ef you was convertid at de
Bridge Street church, huccom you wants to jine
dis church?"
'' De Speerit sent, me to dis church,'' exultantly
exclaimed the girl.
"Glory to Gawd!" said the pastor. "Bless de
Lamb!" exclaimed someone else. "Honah! Honah!
Honah!" hallooed many others, and there was a
general shout.
The examination ended, two sisters came for¬
ward and took Queen Victoria into the anteroom.
When the applicant had been carried out a brother
arose, the same pompous individual who had orig¬
inally announced the house in "ordah an' ready
fur business." Clearing his throat, he said:
"Bruddah Pastur, I sho b'lieves dis is de works
uv grace.'' There was a loud chorus of4' Amens.''
"An' I motions," continued the speaker, "ef I kin,
git a secon', dat she be 'ceptid ez er candidate fur
baptism, an' on baptism 'come a full membah uv
dis church."
"Secon' de motion!" "Secon' de motion!" ex¬
claimed several at one and the same time.
The motion was put and carried. Queen Victoria
72 A CANDIDATE FOR BAPTISM.
was brought in once more. The pastor informed
her of the unanimous vote of the church, and in¬
structed her to be ready for baptism the follow¬
ing Sunday night. Then the meeting adjourned,
the members singing as they dispersed:
"Ole sheep, you know de road,
Ole sheep, you know de road,
Ole sheep, you know de road,
Young lambs mus' learn de way."
XIV.
GOING WITH THE CROWD.
"But all the girls went, mother. I didn't like
to be the only one left out. Besides, when I said I
wouldn't go they all laughed at me and said that
I was a coward."
It was Wednesday morning, before school time,
and Anna was dreading to go back to school-
dreading to meet her teacher. The day before a
circus had been in town. At recess, while the
children were on the playground, they heard the
noise of the band, and one of the girls said:
"Let's go and see the parade."
"All right," said Anna. "I'll go and ask the
teacher if we may."
"No; don't ask her—she might say no. We can
get back before the bell rings, and she will never
know that we left the grounds."
GOING WITH THE CROWD.
73
Anna and one or two other girls held back. They
all knew that it was against the rules to go off the
playground at recess without permission.
4'Oh, come on! Come on!" insisted one of the
girls. "You're afraid; you're afraid! Come on!
Don't be such a coward; all the rest are going."
And so Anna went.
When the girls saw the parade pass one point
they wanted to see it once more, and away they
went through the cross street to get to another
corner ahead of the procession. School was for¬
gotten; and when they did remember, recess time
was long past and it was too late to go back.
The next morning, as Anna stood in the kitchen
talking it over with her mother, her little heart
was very heavy. She knew she had done wrong;
she dreaded to go to school; and she was very
unhappy.
"Perhaps," said her mother, "if you had been
brave about not going, the other girls would have
stayed on the school grounds too. Or, if you had
asked the teacher, I think she would have let you
all go. But whether she did or not, it is never safe
to do a thing just because ' all the rest do it.' Go¬
ing with the crowd is not a good plan unless you
are sure that the crowd is going in the right direc¬
tion. The only wise thing for you to do is to be
sure you are right, and then stick to it and never
mind what the crowd does."
"I didn't mean to do wrong," said Anna, as the
tears started in her eyes.
GOING WITH THE CROWD. 75
"I know tliat, my dear," said her mother, "but
yon were more afraid of being teased than yon
were of doing wrong. I hope yon will remember
from this day forward that the brave girl is not
the girl who dares to do wrong, bnt the brave girl
is the one who does what she knows to be right,
in spite of the taunts and jeers of her playmates.''
"What shall I tell my teacher?" asked Anna in
a low voice, as she dropped her head.
"Oh," said her mother, kissing her, "you go
right straight to your teacher and tell her that
you have done wrong, and that you are sorry for
it. Ask her to let you say so to the whole school.
Be sure to beg her pardon, and promise not to do
so again.''
Little Anna did as her mother told her. That
afternoon, when she came back from school, she
ran into her mother's arms and said:
"Mother, I'm so happy. Teacher forgave me,
and I mean to be good.''
And the smile on Anna's face spoke plainly of a
happy heart.
XV.
MARY AND HER DOLLS.
Was there ever a time when the first doll was
born? Was there ever a time when little boys
and girls, especially little girls, did not love dolls
and did not have something of that nature to play
76 MARY AND HER DOLLS.
with? It would appear that dolls, or playthings
somewhat like unto dolls, are as old as babies
themselves—that is to say, boys and girls, that
ever since there have been little children in the
Mary and Heb Dolls.
world there have been little things for them to
play with. And I never saw a sane person in my
life who regrets that it is so. It is not only amus¬
ing, it is inspiring to see the little children making
MARY AND HER DOLLS. 77
merry with their dolls and their toy animals and
their little express wagons and their wooden guns
and their toy steam engines and their whistles and
their balloons and their brownies and their jump¬
ing-jacks and their hobby-horses and a hundred
and one other things.
Mary had put away her dolls for the night and
was cleaning the doll house when papa came in.
"How many doll babies have you now, Mary?"
he asked.
"I have five dolls now, papa," said Mary, "but
only one is a baby—that is little Flossie. Eobbie
and Nell are three years old now; Mattie is two
and Jerusha is one year old. Flossie is now the
only little baby.''
The Rev. Dr. Smithson smiled.
"Well," he said after a time, "five dolls make
a big family, I think.''
"I don't," said Mary quickly. "Rolla Mays
has thirteen girls and two boys in her doll family,
and I haven't but five in all!"
"I shouldn't thiiik," said Dr. Smithson, "that
Rolla would know what to do with so many.''
i i Why, papa, of course she does!''
"Mary," said Dr. Smithson, looking thought¬
fully at his little daughter, "I have a little girl in
my Sunday school class who hasn't a single doll.
I thought you might like to give her one of yours.
You could spare one—couldn't you?"
"Oh, papa, I couldn't—not a one," exclaimed
Mary.
78 MARY AND HER DOLLS.
"Not one—when this poor little girl hasn't
any?"
"Oh, papa, I love my dolls so—how can I give
them away?"
"You'd have four left—wouldn't that be
enough ?''
Mary thought a long while before speaking. She
looked distressed.
"Papa," she said at last, "Mrs. Grant was over
here the other day, and she said that she wished
you and mamma would give me to her because she
didn't have any little girl of her own. You've got
five children yourself, papa—but would you give
any of 'em away just because you would have four
left?"
Dr. Smithson took his little daughter in his
arms and kissed her.
"No, dear," he said; "papa wouldn't give any
one of his children away. You may keep all of
your dollies, and we'll think of some other way
to help poor little Hattie."
The next morning Mary said:
"Papa, I have thought it all out for Hattie.
You know I have been saving up a little money
to buy me a little iron bank—but I can wait for
that. I have saved up fifty cents—don't you think
that will be enough to buy a nice little dolly for
Hattie, and let me keep my babies?"
Dr. Smithson knew that Mary had long been
planning for the bank. So he asked:
MARY AND HER DOLLS.
79
"Are yon quite sure that you want to spend
your"money in this way?"
"Yes, papa, I'm very sure," said Mary with a
smile, though there was a hint of sadness in her
eyes.
Dr. Smithson and Mary bought Hattie a pretty
doll. Hattie was overjoyed when she saw it. Mary
went back home, glad that her papa had under¬
stood how she loved her dolls, and glad to find
that not one of her beloved children was missing.
XVI.
JAKY TOLBERT'S PLAYMATES.
"Well, Johnnie, where are you going this morn¬
ing?" asked Mrs. Jones as her little boy started
towards the gate.
"I'm goin' over to Jaky's, mamma; you know
I must go over to Jaky's every day."
What do you find at Jaky's to make you so
anxious to go over there every day almost before
you are out of bed good ?''
"Oh, mamma, Jaky has the nicest playmates
over to his house you 'most ever saw.''
"Who else goes over to Jaky's besides you?"
asked Mrs. Jones.
"Jaky don't have no reg'lar visitor but me,"
said Johnnie proudly. "Me an' Jaky is the whole
thing.''
80 JAKY TOLBERT'S PLAYMATES.
"Well, yon are saying a good deal for yourself
when yon say that Jaky lias the nicest playmates
in the world—don't yon think so? ^
"I didn't mean me," explained Johnnie.
"I'm Going Over to Jaky's, Mamma."
JAKY TOLBERT'S PLAYMATES. 81
" Jaky's playmates ain't folks at all. Jaky's play¬
mates is animals—just animals, but I do believe
that they have got as much sense as some folks I
know.""'
"What kind of animals?" asked Mrs. Jones, be¬
coming interested.
Then Johnnie went on to explain. He saicl:
"Jaky's got chickens and dogs and cats and
birds. He's got names for all of 'em, and they
all know their names and they just run to Jaky
when he calls them. The chickens and birds, too,
will just walk right up and eat out of Jaky's hand.
And his trained dogs and cats are just the funniest
things I ever saw. His little dog, Trip, can carry
a gun and obey the commands, "Carry arms!"
"Present arms!" "Parade rest!" just like a little
soldier. One time at a fair he saw trained dogs
and horses, elephants, and even lions. Then he
decided that he would train some animals himself.
And, mamma, he has done well. Why, he's got a
cat that can spell some words. Jaky printed some
letters of the alphabet on separate cards, and he's
got a cat that will pick out the right ones every
time. One of his little dogs can play the fiddle.
It may seem strange, but he certainly can do it.
He can hold the fiddle, and draw the bow across it
just the right way, and he can play a little tune.
Jaky calls it a dog tune, and I think he ought to
know.
"You just ought to see Jaky's chickens—he's
got six of 'em. He calls them and they all come
82 JAKY TOLBERT'S PLAYMATES.
running. Tlien lie holds out his arm, and calls
them by name, and they will jump up on his little
arm, one after the other, and will sit there until
Jaky tells them to jump down. And Jaky is so
kind to his two birds that they won't fly away
when he lets them out of their cages for a little
while. He can take them up in,his arms and pat
them gently, and then he puts them down, and
they will lie still right by Jaky until Jaky calls
them by name and tells them to go into the house
—that is, I mean, into their cages.
"By the way, mama, I forgot to tell you. Jaky
is getting up an animal show, and he says
that I am to be his manager. He's going to print
the cards to-day. He's going to call his circus,
"JAKY TOLBERT'S GREAT ANIMAL SHOW
-THE GREATEST SHOW ON EARTH," and
he's going to make me the manager of his circus.
Won't that be fine? You'll come and see it—
won't you? We're going to charge only one cent
for you to come in. Oh, it's going to be great,
and I don't want you to miss it."
" To be sure, I'll come,'' said Mrs. Jones. 11 Tell
Jaky I'm glad to hear about how much he loves
the dumb animals—every manly boy ought to
love and protect them."
"I tell you," said Johnnie, as he hurried out of
the gate, "Jaky will fight anybody who hallooes
at one of his pets or mistreats one in the least.
He's just as kind to them as he can be. Don't
you forget the show. It'll come off next week."
A VALENTINE PARTY.
83
XVII.
A VALENTINE PARTY.
It was one week from St. Valentine's Day, and
the Berry children had already provided a num¬
ber of the tokens, comic and otherwise, which
they meant to send to their friends. Jack pro¬
duced a grotesque and awfully exaggerated cari¬
cature of a withered, stoop-shouldered old woman,
with some cruel lines of doggerel printed be¬
neath it.
"I'm going to send this to old Mrs. Gray," said
Jack, as he exhibited the comic picture.
Nearly all the children laughed, and said that
the picture and the wards beneath it would just
suit the old woman. Mrs. Gray was an old and
povetry-stricken widow woman,, and many of the
children of the little village took delight in play¬
ing tricks on her on Hallowe'en and Valentine
nights. In this way, the children, especially the
boys, had made her life so miserable that the old
woman often said that she hated even the sight of
a boy. In the midst of the merriment over the pro¬
posed venture of Jack Berry, it was Lillie Berry
who spoke up, saying,
"Jack, I tell you what I think. I think we
ought to give Mrs. Gray a genuine surprise next
week. She has had so many ups and downs in this
life, I really believe that we can give her a little
pleasure if we give her a true—true surprise. Of
Old Mrs. Gray.
A VALENTINE PARTY.
85
course, all the boys and girls will be invited to
join in, but it is not going to be like a regular
party, but something like the 1 surprise' parties
or donation parties tfyat we sometimes give the
preacher; we'll just put the things on the door¬
step and run, the way we do with valentines, you
know. What do you say to that, Jack? And what
do the rest of you think ?''
Very quickly the Berry children agreed with
what Lillie had said, and immediately they set
about planning for the valentine party.
The night of February fourteenth was clear,
cold and moonless. Across the fields in the dark¬
ness, a throng of merry young children, with a
wagon or two (little goat wagons) piled high with
baskets and bundles and wood, slipped silently
toward the little house where old Mrs. Gray sat
shivering over her scanty fire. A sudden knock
at the door aroused Mrs. Gray from her musing.
She hobbled painfully to( the door. Opening it,
she saw by the light of the tallow candle a basket
of rosy apples and another of potatoes. Nothing
else was in sight.
A second knock followed almost as soon as the
door had closed on the two baskets which were
hurriedly drawn inside. This time a can of kero¬
sene oil held a lonely vigil on the doorstep.
"I haven't had a drop in my lamp for two
weeks," Jack heard the old lady say, as she peered
out eagerly into the darkness before closing the
door.
86
A VALENTINE PARTY.
As she was busy filling her lamp, she was inter¬
rupted by a third knock, which resulted in a
basket filled with groceries in parcels in all shapes
and sizes. Great tears stood in Mrs. Gray 's eyes,
and a great lump arose in her throat.
At last knock number four revealed the real
Saint Valentine—a group of laughing boys and
girls, every one of whom carried an armful either
of pine or oak wood for the stove.
"Where shall we put it?" asked Jack Berry,
as eager now to help as he had been the week
before to tease. Mrs. Gray was rubbing her eyes,
and wondering if she could possibly be awake and
in her right mind.
"Wish you many happy returns of Valentine's
Day!" said Lillie Berry, as she slipped into the
withered hand a small purse containing the valen¬
tine money of the boys and girls; and before the
bewildered woman could say more than a fervent
"God bless you," her guests had melted away in
the darkness, and she was left to weep tears of
thankfulness among her new possessions.
xvni.
"NO MONEY DOWN."
Boys and girls, I suppose you are quite familiar
with what is known as buying things on the instal¬
ment plan. You have seen people in your own
neighborhood—perhaps in your own homes—buy
NO MONEY DOWN.
87
things that way. Chairs, tables, bed-steads, rugs,
pictures, things for the kitchen and things to
wear, and many other things are bought that way.
Most people think they are getting a great bar¬
gain when they are able to buy things by paying
a small amount in cash as the first payment—say
fifty-cents or a dollar—and then pay the balance
in small weekly or monthly payments. And espe¬
cially do some of our mothers and fathers think
that they are getting a great bargain, if they are
able to buy things they want for 4'no money
down" and so much a week. In such matters, my
dear boys and girls, your parents are making a
terrible mistake and are setting you a wrong
example. They lose sight of the fact, when they
fall into the habit of buying anything and every¬
thing on the instalment plan or on the "no money
down" plan, that a day of reckoning is sure to
come; that the time comes when they "must pay for
everything that they have been led into buying.
Thoughtful people—wise people—prefer to pay
"money down" when they buy anything; and
this habit of paying as they go helps them in at
least two ways. First, it saves money in their
pockets, and, secondly, it keeps them from run¬
ning in debt.
Children, these men who come to your homes
with great packs on their backs always charge
you double for whatever they may sell you on the
"no money down" plan—no matter what it is!
That is why they are willing to make the terms so
88
NO MONEY DOWN.
"easy," as they say. In the end they profit by
their schemes, and nobody else does profit by their
schemes except these peddlers. You ought to
avoid them as you would a wild beast. You do
not know now, boys and girls, what a terrible
thing debt is. I honestly hope that you may never
know, and if you will take the advice of older and
wiser persons I am sure you will always be free
from the bondage of debt.
Not long ago, I saw two women standing at the
window of one of these "no money down" or
'•'hand-me-down" stores. One said to the other—
"I just believe I'll get me a new cloak this win¬
ter. My cloak didn't cost but three dollars, and
it is so old and shabby that I am ashamed to wear
it in the street. Look at that beauty over there in
the corner. Only ten dollars and 'no money
down'."
"Yes;" said her companion, "but I guess the
money will have to come down sometime."
"Oh, of course; but, you know, I won't have to
pay it all at once. I could probably get it for fifty
cents a week."
"Well, why don't you just save the fifty cents a
week until you have enough to pay 'cash down' for
the cloak, and in that way you would save, I am
sure, three or four dollars; because you can buy
that same cloak for six dollars or seven dollars in
cash."
"Oh," said the woman, "I'd never save it as I
NO MONEY DOWN.
89
would if I had the cloak and knew that I just had
to pay for it."
"But, Delia, the cloak would not really be yours
until you had paid for it, and I would feel kind of
cheap wearing a cloak that didn't belong to me.
If I were you I would stick to the old cloak until
I could pay the money down for a new one. That's
what I would do."
And that is exactly what anybody should do
who wants a new cloak. It is what people should
do, no matter what they want. I know a boy
fifteen or sixteen years old who had the courage
and the manliness and the honesty to wear a very
shabby old overcoat all of last winter rather than
buy one on the "no money down" plan. It is his
plan always to "pay as he goes," and be debtor
to 110 one.
I heard the other day of a young fellow who
goes two or three blocks out of his way to avoid
passing certain stores because he owes the pro¬
prietors of those stores money that he cannot pay.
That boy, I know, is miserable night and day.
Mr. Longfellow, in his *' The Village Blacksmith,''
tells us that the honest old blacksmith could look
'' the whole world in the face,'' because he did not
owe anybody anything—he was out of debt. And
boys and girls, if you are level-headed, you will
fight shy of the "no money down" plan. By
choosing the "money down" plan, you will save
your self-respect and your good name.
90 TOMMY'S BABY BROTHER.
XIX.
TOMMY'S BABY BROTHER.
For several months Deacon Tadpole's little son,
Tommy, had made constant and repeated reference
to the fact that he had no little baby brother or
sister to play with. One day, when he was feeling
unusually sad over his misfortune, he said to his
father,
"Papa, I ain't got no little baby brother to play
with—you might at least buy me a little pony."
"Papa can't buy a pony, son;" said the deacon.
"A pony costs too much. I thought you wanted
a little brother or sister."
"I do," said Tommy, "but if I can't get what I
want I'm willing to take what I can get."
"But, you would rather have a little brother
than a pony, wouldn't you?" asked Mr. Tadpole.
Tommy thought awhile and then said he
thought he would rather have a little baby brother
than to have a pony.
"You see," he said, "it costs so much to keep
a pony, and we would have to build a stable for
him, wouldn't we, papa?"
"Yes," answered his father, "and we haven't
got any room in the backyard for a stable.''
"And we'd have to buy hay, too," said the
child.
"Yes," said his father.
"Well, I'd rather have the little brother."
TOMMY'S BABY BROTHER.
91
"Papa, I Aint Got No Littix Baby Brother to Plat with."
So the matter was left in abeyance until a month
ago when little Tommy was told one morning that
a little brother had come to him.
He was delighted. He danced around in the hall
92
TOMMY'S BABY BROTHER.
and made such a racket on the stairs that the
nurse threatened to have him sent away. When
he was permitted to see the baby, Tommy went
into ecstasies. He asked a thousand questions
about the little one, and was very anxious to know
why God had taken so long to send him down
from heaven. He wanted to kiss the baby, and
cried because they wouldn't let him hold it in his
arms.
But Tommy's enthusiasm for the new baby
began to wear off in about a week's time. It was
always, "Sh-sh! Sh-sh! You'll wake the baby,"
or "Tommy, you must be more quiet!" or "You
can't come in this room, now!"
In fact the little baby brother seemed to be in¬
terfering with little Tommy's fun to such an
extent that he decided to go to his father and see
if some new arrangement could not be made.
Tommy found his father in the library. He ran to
Deacon T&dpole and climbed upon his knee, and
said,
"Papa, I don't believe I want my little brother
any more. I can't have any fun with him. I'll
tell you what let's do. Let's trade him for a
pony."
"Oh, we couldn't do that," said the deacon.
Tommy was silent for a time. Then he said,
"Well, I don't suppose we could find anybody
that would Want to trade a pony for him, but don't
you think you could trade him for a goat?"
KEEPING SCHOOL.
93
XX.
KEEPING SCHOOL.
Every boy and girl in America ought to go to
school. The public school is one of the best insti¬
tutions connected with the life of our nation. But
did you ever hear of a little girl who went to
school to herself? I have, and I want to tell yon
about it.
We will call her Tootsie.
There was no school-house, and no teachers;
nothing only just little Tootsie; not even her dolls;
just simply Tootsie sitting all alone on the couch
near the window. That was all there was to this
little school, so far as anybody could see.
But Tootsie said she had a large school, with
some sixty pupils. Sometimes she would say that
her scholars had been naughty and that they
would have to stay in at recess; and then again
she would say that they had been promoted to a
higher grade; she often talked to her pupils as if
they were real live people, telling them how they
should stand and how they should sit and giving
them permission to be excused, and so on,. So you
see it seemed in Tootsie's mind very much more
like a real school than it could to us.
Every morning, when Tootsie's sister would
start for school, Tootsie would watch her until
she was out of sight, and then she would go and
sit down on the couch. Not having a true-true
94
KEEPING SCHOOL.
school book, she would take her Christmas story
books. At first she would only look at the pic¬
tures and try to think what the story about them
must be. Then she would ask mama or grandma,
or whoever happened to be nearest, what the
words of the picture-story were. She would then
say the words of the story over to herself, and look
at the picture. Next day she would read over the
words of the same story as far as she could remem¬
ber them, and when she came to a word that she
did not know, up she would jump and go and ask
some one what it was. When she had learned a
story herself, she would then talk to her sixty
KEEPING SCHOOL.
95
imaginary scholars about it, showing them the
picture, and explaining the story to them just as
though the children were all there before her in
her little school room.
In this way Tootsie went through one after
another of her story books, picking out the stories,
that had pleasing pictures.
But the nice thing of it all was that Tootsie was
really learning to read, and she did get so that she
read real well; for she knew just what she was
reading about, and often, when she would find a
story that was funny, she would laugh right out
even if she was at school, and then she would find
mama or grandma and read the funny part to
them.
Maybe one reason why Tootsie learned so fast
was because her school was just like play to her
and not like work. Of course, it is easier to play
than it is to work. But could you think of any
better thing to play than to play keeping school?
"Why not try it? It helped Tootsie wonderfully,
and I believe it would help many other boys and
girls. What do you think about it?
96 THE SCHOOL OF THE STREET.
XXI.
THE SCHOOL OF THE STREET.
Little Joe, ten years old, had followed his busi¬
ness as a newsboy and bootblack in Smutville for
three or four years, and, of course, had turned out
to be a first-class little citizen of the street. He
could curse and swear, and drink and smoke, just
the same as any old hardened sinner.
One day, after Joe had finished one of his daily
fights with some other small boy, a kind-hearted
gentleman stepped up to him and said,
"My little man, do you go to school?"
"Nope," said Joe.
"Do you go to Sunday-school?"
"Nope."
"Well," said the gentleman, "what do you
expect to do when you are grown?"
"I ain't going to wait till I'm grown—I'm
going to be a jockey; that's what I'm going to
be."
"How would you like to be bank cashier or
president of a great bank? Wouldn't you like
that better?"
"Yep," said the boy, "but a poor boy can't get
no job like that—now you know he couldn't."
1' Oh, yes; he could if he were to prepare himself
for it. But a poor boy, and no other boy, will ever
be a great business man if he is going to live for-
THE SCHOOL OF THE STREET. 97
Little Joe.
ever in the street-
cursing and swearing
and fighting and, it
may be, stealing, and
having no higher am¬
bition than to be a
jockey."
"Are you a par¬
son?" asked the boy,
"becoming interested.
"No, but I am in¬
terested in little boys.
I am the secretary of
the Young Men's
Christian Association
and we have a boys' department. I want you to
join it. I have found out about your habits and
your surroundings; I was told of the death of
your mother and father; and I made up my mind
to come and ask you to. come over to the Young
Men's Christian Association and live with us.
You may continue to sell your papers and black
boots, but, you see, living with us, you can go to
school at night, and some day you will have a good
education—and you might be a bank cashier."
Little Joe took this good man's advice and went
to live in the Y. M. C. A. building. He did not
turn out to be a bank cashier or president, but
what was better, Joe turned out to be a General
Secretary of one of the largest Y. M. C. A. 's among
the colored people of this country, and in that way
98 THE SCHOOL OF THE STKEET.
lias been instrumental in saving a great many
other boys from the gutter.
But Joe would never have amounted to anything
if he had not been taken away from the wicked
influences of the street, and placed on the road to
higher things. The worst school in this world
that any boy can go to is the school of the street.
The school of the street turns out the most impure,
the most dishonest and the most illiterate boys,
and those boys and girls who ever rise to be any¬
thing or anybody in the world are the ones who
leave the influences of the street in due time, as
Little Joe did. The street offers most of its work
and most of its attractions at night, as many boys
can tell. The life of the street leads to no career
that is worth following. The good careers are made
by those whom the street has not had a chance to
spoil, or by those who are taken out of the streets
before they become hopeless cases.
There is no greater error than the common
notion that it is a good thing to let a boy run the
streets and become "hard'*' and "tough" and
"have his wits sharpened" and make "a little
man" of himself, as some foolish people say. A
boy learns more downright mischief in one night
in the street than he can unlearn in the home in six
months. And so, what will the teaching of the
home, the public school and the Sunday-school
amount to, if we are going to give our boys in
their young and tender years the freedom of the
streets? If now and then a street boy—that is to
THE SCHOOL OF THE STREET. 99
say, a boy hardened in the ways of the street—
does get a good place, in most cases he will lose it
and fall back to the old, free life of the gutter.
The boys who succeed are the boys who get away
from, or who are taken away from, the influences
of the street and who are surrounded by better
and more wholesome influences. Those who re¬
main under the influences of the street become in
the course of time members of the great army of
beggars, tramps and criminals. It is a great pity
that there should be so many stories going the
rounds which tell about newsboys and messenger
boys and so on rising to be bank clerks and tele¬
graph-operators and so forth. On the whole, these
stories are misleading, and for the reason that
they seem to give the impression to many innocent
boys and to many thoughtless parents that the
surest way to give a boy a good start in life is to
send him out into the streets to "rough it" and
fight his way to the front over beer bottles, games
of chance, the race-track, and the pool room, to
the accompaniment of vulgar jokes, profane
swearing and evil associates. I repeat: The school
of the street is the worst school in the world, and
the sooner boys get out of it the better it will be
for them.
100
THE FOX HUNT.
XXII.
THE FOX HUNT.
Uncle Hambright "used to pride himself upon his
ability to invent amusing games for the children.
Sometimes he found it hard to think of anything
new, but the demands of the children were so
insistent and his desire to please them always was
so intense that it often happened that Uncle Ham-
bright could almost make a way out of no way.
Dinner-time was fast approaching. All the
morning, the half-dozen little children, who were
spending the day with Uncle Hambright at the
Sunday-school picnic, had been playing every con¬
ceivable sort of game and had been enjoying every
imaginable kind of story told in Uncle Ham's
inimitable way,—but still the children were not
satisfied. "Just one more story," or "Just one
more game," or "Give us your best game now for
the last before dinner,"—the children clamored
one after another.
"Very well," said Uncle Ham. "You all wait
until I come back, and then we'll play fox-hunt¬
ing. ''
Uncle Ham went and told his sister and her
husband, the parents of the little children, to take
the dinner-baskets far into the woods to the place'
which they had already agreed upon as the spot
where the dinner-table should be spread. Coming
back to the children, Uncle Ham said,.
THE FOX HUNT.
101
"Now, we are ready.
Come close and listen
while I explain.''
With anxious hearts
and eager faces, and
clapping their glad
hands, the children
gathered around Uncle
Ham.
"Now," said he, "I
have a piece of chalk
1 it- Uncle Hambright.
here m my hand. 1 am
going to make something like this wherever I
go along." While he was speaking he made a
round ring on the fence close by. He put marks
for the ears and feet and a mark for the tail.
Then he continued: "This is the fox. I'm
going to make foxes along the path that I take
into the woods—sometimes these foxes may be on
fences, sometimes on trees, sometimes on rocks, or
anywhere I wish to place them. Whenever you
find a fox you will know that you are on the right
road, and you must be sure each time to follow in
the direction that the head of the fox points. Then
you ,won't lose your way. You must give me a
little start, because I must be out of sight before
you all begin the hunt. At the end of the hunt, if
you follow carefully, you will find a large present
waiting for each one of you. Yoil may help your¬
self to whatever you like, and then we shall all
come back together, because, you know, I will be
102
THE FOX HUNT.
at the end myself waiting for you when you come.''
It seemed that the ten minutes start that the
children had agreed to give Uncle Hambright
would never come to an end, so eager were they
to begin the hunt. By-and-by the time came, and
they were off. The first few foxes had been drawn
on the board-walk, so the hunters had easy sailing
for a little while. Pretty soon, however, one of the
girls discovered a fox on a tree, and the head of
the fox pointed right into the woods. At first the
children halted. The eldest girl said finally, after
studying a few minutes,
" Let's go on; Uncle Hambright wouldn't take
us where anything could hurt us, and, besides, he
said he would be waiting at the end.''
Thus re-assured, all of them plunged into the
woods. Once in the woods the little foxes drawn
on trees and stumps carried them right along by
the side of a babbling brook for a long distance.
Sometimes they would find one fox, and then they
would find it very hard to locate the next one. It
was great fun for them to scurry about in the
woods, examining trees, stumps, rocks and every¬
thing, hunting for the foxes. Finally one of the
little girls found a fox on a fence. The head of
the fox pointed upwards. The little child said,
' 1 This little fox seems to be pointing to heaven;
I'm sure we can't go up there."
"Oh, no;" said the oldest girl, again coming to
the rescue,—"I think that that litle fox leads over
the fence—that's all."
THE FOX HUNT.
103
So, over the fence tliey jumped and continued
the chase.
The course proved to be zig-zag now for a few
"You All Wait until I Come Back, and then We'll Play
at Fox Hunting."
minutes, and the children found the foxes more
and more difficult to locate. They felt safe again,
when the foxes were found on stones or rocks lead"
104
THE FOX HUNT.
ing up the side of a hill. The woods began to thin
out, and the children- were no longer timid. Up
the hill they went with a merry laugh and a shout.
Once on top of the hill, they lost their course again.
After a time, they found a fox, though, and that
fox pointed straight down the hill. The children
bravely followed. At the foot of the hill, they
came suddenly upon an open space, and close by
there was a great big fox marked upon a piece of
black paste-board and standing right over a bub¬
bling spring of water.
"Uncle Hambright must have meant for us to
stop here," said one.
"Maybe, he meant for us to stop and get some
water," said another. f
One or two of the fox-hunters stopped and
drank some water. Then the oldest one said,
"Come on now, let's look for another fox; I
guess we are most through now."
About twenty yards away from the spring, the
children came to another open space that was well
shaded, i What was their delight and surprise to
find there stretched out before them on a large
white table cloth, laid on the bare ground, a sump¬
tuous picnic-dinner. And in the middle of the
table there was a true-true stuffed fox with a large
red apple in his mouth. For a few moments the
children stood around the table in bewilderment.
But they were not to be kept in suspense a great
while. Pretty soon, Uncle Hambright and mama
and papa came out of the woods near by, and such
THE FOX HUNT.
105
a laugh as went around that picnic-dinner was
never heard before or since!
At the close of the meal, the children all voted
that that was the best game that Uncle Ham had
played during the day.
XXIII.
A BOLD VENTURE.
4'Mr. Slocum, good morning, sir; I came around
to ask you to lend me five dollars.''
Mr. Slocum, Manager of the Harlem Steamboat
Company, looked up from his desk in surprise
when he heard this abrupt annpuncement.
"What's that?" he asked curtly.
"Lend me five dollars," said the little boy who
had first addressed him.
"Who are you?" demanded Mr. Slocum.
"I'm nobody," said the boy,—"nobody, but I
want you to lend me five dollars."
Mr. Slocum, who was generally said to be a hard
man to deal with, was surprised at the boy's pre¬
sumption, yet, nevertheless, he was secretly
pleased at the boy's frank and open manner.
"Do you know what borrowing money means?"
asked Mr. Slocum, rising and looking down upon
the diminutive figure standing before him. The
boy was barefooted, held his hat in his hand, and
his hair was nicely combed. Mr. Slocum con-
106
A BOLD VENTURE.
tinned: 4'Don't yon know when a person borrows
money lie is supposed to pay it back?"
4'Oh, yes;" said the boy, "I know that. Yon
lend me the money, and I'll pay it back all right.
I only want it for three months. I '11 pay it back.''
There was something about the boy's face and
"Lend Me Five Dollars."
general deportment that won Mr. Slocum's favor.
He ran his hand into his pocket, pulled out a five-
dollar bill and handed it to the boy.
"Thank you, sir;" said the boy, as he turned to
go,—"thank you sir; I'll pay it back."
A BOLD VENTURE.
107
. Three months later, the same little boy entered
Mr. Slocum's office.
"Here's your five dollars, Mr. Slocum," said the
little boy. "I'm much obliged to you, sir."
"Who are you?" as Mr. Slocum, as he reached
out and took the money.
"I'm nobody," said the boy.
"Well, why do you bring me this money?"
"Because I owe it to you," explained the little
fellow.
The boy told Mr. Slocum of the loan made three
months before, and made Mr. Slocum recall the
transaction. Mr. Slocum asked him to have a
seat.
"Well, what did you do with that money?"
asked Mr. Slocum.
"Well," said the boy, "I was hard up when I
called on you. Me and my ma had been selling
papers for a living up to that time, but somehow
we had got behind with our expenses. House rent
was due, and we didn't have nothing to eat. I had
to find a friend somewhere. So, after trying two
or i three places where I was known and failing to
get any help, I decided to drop in here and see
you. You know the result. Well, I paid my rent
for a week; rented a little stand for my ma to sell
papers on the corner, while I continued to hustle
in the street. That five dollars you lent me give me
good luck, and I've been going right up ever since.
Me and ma are living in a better place now; we've
got a plenty to eat; and we've got a plenty of fine
108
A BOLD VENTURE.
customers. I told yon when I came here before
.that I was nobody then, but I'm somebody now,
Mr. Slocum,—anyhow, I feel so—and I want to
thank you again for the help you gave me."
The boy's story pleased Mr. Slocum very much.
It is needless to say that he took an interest in that
boy, and continued to befriend him.
This happened many years ago. To-day Tommy
Tolliver—that was the boy's name—is the Assist¬
ant General Manager of the Harlem Steamboat
Company, and a very well to do man. Mr. Slocum
says that there is nobody in the world like him.
Tommy's mother died some years ago, but she
lived long enough to see her little boy taken out of
the streets, put to school, and started on his career
of uesfulness.
XXIV.
A HERO IN BLACK.
I read some years ago, boys and girls, a story
in McClure's Magazine, which I think should be of
interest to every boy and girl in the world. The
story was taken from the records of the Royal
Humane Society of Great Britain. It told about
an obscure negro seaman whose brave deed was
discovered and honored by two of the great
nations of the earth.
One tropical night, the steamer Dolphin rested
almost motionless off the Cayman rocks in Nica-
A HERO IN BLACK.
109
ragua. Crew and passengers, some twenty in all.
were asleep about the deck, for it was too hot to
go below. Then came suck a squall as comes only
in those Southern seas. The sails, all set, fur¬
nished ample leverage. "Within ten seconds, the
Dolphin was bottom up, her passengers and crew
struggling in the water.
Wilson McField, a negro and a subject of Great
Britain, was the first to come to the surface. All
his twenty-seven years of life he had known these
waters, and he swam like a fish. He soon suc¬
ceeded in climbing upon the bottom of the vessel.
Then he shouted to the others, and one by one
pulled up five of the crew.
A Hero in Black.
110
A HERO IN BLACK.
Fortunately the squall was soon over, although
the sea was high. After they had drifted two
hours the men heard strange sounds, like pound¬
ing within the vessel. Some thought they heard
voices. The more superstitious were afraid. The
night dragged on, and by daylight the sounds had
grown fainter. The crew concluded that men were
imprisoned within the boat, but none could devise
a way to save them. Then the negro proposed to
dive under and into the ship. They assured him
he would never get out again, but carrying be¬
tween his teeth one end of a rope that had been
dragging from the vessel, McField dived, passed
under the gunwale and rose in the hatch.
It was pitch-dark, and the interior of the vessel
was full of the floating cargo, but he kept on
steadily. Finally concluding that he had reached
the cabin, he rose, and in an instant his head was
above water. Yet so foul was the air, and so nar-
now the space between the water and the ship's
bottom, that he could hardly breathe. He could
see no one, but he heard the knocking again, and
called out. Then came voices faint but familiar.
Swimming in the direction of the sound, he
found two men braced against the cabin sides and
holding their heads above water. One was a
young rubber cutter, named Mallitz, the other a
native Spanish-Nicaraguan, called Ovando. Both
were panic-stricken, and McField was obliged to
threaten them with instant death if they did not
obey him. He fastened the rope round Mallitz and
A HERO IN BLACK.
Ill
gave the signal to pull. McField dived into the
water along with his man. In his fright Mallitz
entangled himself in the hatchway, and precious
time was lost in freeing him. When they reached
the surface Mallitz was unconscious, and McField
more dead than alive.
They pulled Mallitz aboard but McField would
not follow. As soon as the rope was free he took
it in his teeth and went under, found the hatch
and entered the cabin. Obando was almost uncon¬
trollable with fear and exhaustion, but McField
finally secured him with the rope, and gave the
signal to pull up. This time the trip was made
without accident, and both men were drawn on
board. All the men were saved.
The United States government awarded Mc¬
Field a medal and a sum of money in gold, and the
Royal Humane Society of Great Britain gave him
a medal of silver.
XXV.
THE ROAD TO SUCCESS.
The world is constantly looking for the man
who knows the most, and it pays little regard to
those who are proficient in the usual degree in the
same things. One must excel, or, in other words,
know more than his associates in order to succeed
notably. The world will bid high for you if you
know more than other men.
112
THE ROAD TO SUCCESS.
So that boys and girls wlio are preparing them¬
selves for the duties of life should not aim simply
at being as good as somebody else, but they should
aim at being the best that it is possible to be in
any chosen line of life or business. I have noticed
in my short life-time that there is a great tendency
on the part of
young people to
cut short their
education. Being
able to shine in
t h e intellectual
The Road to Success.
and social worlds with the small attainments made
in some college or normal school or industrial
school, the average young negro man is content to
stop with a diploma or certificate from one or an¬
other of these institutions. They will never realize
what injury they have done themselves by so doing
until it is too late. On the other hand, there is
another large class of young people that stop
short even before they have finished the course in
even any one of the normal or industrial schools.
They must go out to work; they know enough to
make a living; what's the use of so much educa-
THE ROAD TO SUCCESS.
113
tion, anyhow ? This is the way some of them talk.
This is what some of them believe. Boys and
girls, no man or woman with such low ideals will
ever reach the topmost round of the ladder of
fame. Such boys and girls will always play a
second-rate part in the great drama of life. The
boys and girls who are going to the front—the
boys and girls who are going to have the leading
parts—are the boys and girls who are willing to
take time to prepare themselves. And prepara¬
tion means hard work; and not only hard work,
but hard and long-continued work. A person can
learn a good deal in one year ; a person can learn a
good deal in two years; but nobody, can learn
enough in one or two years, or in three or four
years, to make it at all likely that he will ever be
sought by the great world.
Aside from the rudimentary training, it ought
to take at least ten years to make a good 'doctor,
or a good lawyer, or a good electrician, or a good
preacher. Four of these years ought to be spent
in college; and four in the professional school;
and the other two ought to be spent in picking up
a practical or working knowledge of the calling—
whatever it may be. The young doctor obtains
this practical knowledge in hospitals and in prac¬
tice among the poor. The electrician obtains it by
entering some large electrical industry or manu¬
factory, in which a thoroughly practical knowl¬
edge of mechanical engineering and electricity
can be secured. It is true that some men have
114
THE ROAD TO SUCCESS.
become distinguished in these callings without
this long preparation of which I have spoken; yet
it is, also, true that they would have been better
off—they would have been more likely to have
become eminent—if they had taken, the longer
course. College is a little world which every one,
other things being equal, ought to enter and pass
through before launching in the great world.
XXVI.
SAMUEL C. ARMSTRONG.
Boys and girls, I wonder how many of you have
heard of Samuel C. Armstrong—General Arm¬
strong, the founder of Hampton Institute in Vir¬
ginia? General Armstrong was one of the best
men who ever lived, and he was the friend of all
mankind. His special services were rendered in
behalf of Indians and Negroes—the weaker races.
You ought to go to Hampton Institute sometimes
and see that place, and go over to the little ceme¬
tery in one corner of the grounds and stand uncov¬
ered by the side of General Armstrong's grave.
He died in 1892.
You ought to get the story of his life and read
it. It will bear to you a thrilling message; for to
read that book is to enter the presence of a man
of magnificent courage and indomitable faith.
A general at twenty-six, with a brilliant war rec-
SAMUEL C. ARMSTRONG.
115
oxd behind him, the quality of his courage had
been already proved; but the future was to test it
far more severely. The responsibility for the ex¬
periment at Hampton was a terrible one, present¬
ing problems which no nation had been called
upon to solve before. He had to face isolation, ig¬
norance, indifference, misrepresentation. At the
best, after he had conquered prejudice and won
friends for the work, he had to spend half his time
begging for money, for he had to raise by personal
efforts from fifty thousand to eighty thousand dol¬
lars annually for the current expenses. Yet in all
that time and under all his burdens no one ever
saw him discouraged. He used to explain his
position by a story wjiich he called his "rule of
conduct.''
'4 Once there was an old colored man who could
not be dissuaded from working at an empty 'pos¬
sum hole. 'Ain't no 'possum in dat hole? Dey's
jest got to be, 'cause dey's nuffin' in de house fer
supper'." Or, as he used to tell his children,
"Once there was a woodchuck. Now woodchucks
can't climb trees. Well, this woodchuck was
chased by a dog, and came to a tree. He knew that
if he could get up this tree the dog could not
catch him. Now woodchucks can't climb trees,
but this one had to, so he did.''
He had to, so he did, was the motto of General
Armstrong's life. "Doing what can't be done is
the glory of living," he once said. "For most
people," said one of General Armstrong's friends,
116
SAMUEL C. ARMSTRONG.
"an obstacle is something in the way to stop one
from going on, but for General Armstrong it mere¬
ly meant something to climb over; and if he could
not climb all the way over, he would get up as
high as possible, and then crow!"
When you come to Tead the story of General
Armstrong's life you will find that there is no finer
picture in it than that of an evening when he
spoke at a little suburban church far down a side
street. It was a bitter winter night, with a driving
storm of sleet, and when it was time for the meet¬
ing to begin the audience consisted of a score or
so of humble people who evidently enough had
no means to contribute, and a dozen restless boys
kicking their heels in the front pew. Then "in
the midst of the bleakness and emptiness rose the
worn, gaunt soldier, as bravely and gladly as if a
multitude were hanging upon his words. His deep-
sunk eyes looked out beyond the bleakness of the
scene into the world of his ideals, and the cold
little place was aglow with the fire that was in
him.''
Dangers, hardships, obstacles—upon these he
had tried "his soul's stuff" all his life, but here
was another and a more difficult test. Triumph¬
ant in faith, and unflinching in duty, he could meet
even defeat in the spirit of victory.
HOW TO BE HANDSOME. 117
XXVII.
HOW TO BE HANDSOME.
Do you want to he handsome ? I'll tell you how.
First, look well to your health. Eat regularly
and simply, and take proper rest, in order to be
healthy. Do not crowd the stomach. The stomach
can no more work all the time, night and day,
than a horse; it must have regular rest. The body
must have proper rest also. Do not keep late
hours. Go to bed early. If you have work which
must be done, it is a good deal better to rise early
in the morhing and do it than it is to sit up late
at night and work.
Secondly, good teeth are essential to good looks.
Brush the teeth regularly with a soft brush morn¬
ing and night, especially at night. Be sure to go
to bed at night with clean teeth.
Thirdly, look well to the ventilation of your
bedrooms. No one can havfe a clear skin who
breathes bad air. Fresh air is a preventive of a
multitude of diseases. Bad air is the cause of a
great many premature deaths.
Fourthly, cleanliness of the entire body is of
vast importance. Some one has said that " Clean¬
liness is next to godliness,'' and some one else has
added, "And soap is a means of grace." Hand¬
some people not only eat regularly and simply;
they not only sleep regularly and look well to
118 HOW TO BE HANDSOME.
proper ventilation; but handsome people will take
regular baths.
Fifthly, more than all else, in order to look well
you must wake up the mind and soul. "When the
mind is awake, the dull, sleepy look passes away
from the eyes. Keep thinking pleasant and noble
thoughts; do not read trashy novels or books; read
books which have something good in them. Talk
with people who know something. Be often in the
company of those who know more than you do.
Hear lectures and sermons and profit by them. If
we listen and understand and heed, the mind and
soul are awakened. So much the better if the spir¬
itual nature is aroused. Sometimes a plain face
is really glorified with the love of God and of man
which shines through it.
Lastly, keep a strong and vigorous body by tak¬
ing plenty of wholesome outdoor exercise, and do
all the good you can.
Why not begin to grow handsome today?
PATIENCE.
119
xxvm.
PATIENCE.
Patience is one of the marks of a high, charac¬
ter. It might well be called the habit of closing
the mind against disagreeable and annoying con¬
ditions. To acquire this habit so effectually as to
hide even from one's self any sense of suffering
or offense from contact with such conditions is
what the truly cultivated aim at. Life, it is true,
is full of trying things, but to let the mind dwell
upon them only serves to increase their offense to
the feelings or the senses.
There are people, of course, who are incapable
of self-concentration, and whose imagination, if
left free to gad about, seems always to fix upon
and exaggerate every element of disturbance. They
live in what is called an elementary stage of moral
discipline, and are perpetually fretting about
things they cannot help. They are never able to
shut down the will against any unpleasantness.
They permit merely accidental conditions to exer¬
cise a kind of tyrannical sway over them, which, if
their minds were once bent to the practice of put¬
ting up with things, would cease to present any
annoyance whatever.
It is difficult, no doubt, to acquire this habit, but
this is what patience means in its highest sense. It
is spiritual endurance, and its chief power con-
120
PATIENCE.
sists not so much in adding to the number of our
joys as in lessening the number of our sufferings.
It is, therefore, a mark of power over one's self
and a means of power over others. With patience
the outward success or failure of a man is a small
thing compared with that
success which he has achiev¬
ed within himself. And that
kind of success—the success
which enables a man to
laugh at failure and rise su¬
perior to discouragements
and difficulties—that kind of
success is a means of help
and inspiration to all those
about him.
If we consider the works
of nature we shall see
that nature's most
beneficent operations
are the results of pa-
t i e n c e. Anything
which grows must ^y
have time, and the
best things in the
world are generally those tilings which demand the
longest time for their growth and development.
The rank and short-lived weed reaches its full de¬
velopment in the shortest possible time, but the
oak, which is to stand for centuries, demands the
sunshine and the storm of years before its strength
is fully developed.
Patience.
PATIENCE.
121
Now, boys and girls, one of the hardest demands
which nature makes upon people (especially upon
young people, full of strength and energy and am¬
bition) is to wait for the results of growth. No
man becomes instantly strong morally; he must
grow into strength. However great his ambition
and his zeal may be, no man becomes a scholar in
a year. It takes time, and lots of it. No man
reaches at a single bound the full development of
his whole nature. He grows into strength. A
good soldier cannot be made without war, nor can
a skillful seaman be made on land.
So in the race of life we must fight hard for all
we get and be patient. Whatever else may be true,
or may not be true, only patient and continued
efforts—not hasty efforts—lead to success.
Before me lies a block of wood. It is full of
knots. It seems to me I can never split it. But
I bravely make the attempt. The first blow makes
little impression. The axe springs back with a
bound. Again and again I strike. Then a tiny
crack appears. A few more licks—and the block
yields. I have succeeded. Can you tell me which
blow did the work? Was it not the first blow and
the last and all between? You have tried some¬
thing and failed. Try again. If you fail, try once
more. And on and on, keep trying until you win
the victory.
122
THE BITER BIT.
THE BITER BIT.*
In the broad light of day a would-be highway¬
man sprang from the bushes that skirted the '' Big
Road," and with a pistol pointed at Eli's head
commanded the wayfarer to hold up his hands.
Without hesitation Eli obeyed, grabbing his hat
from his head while his hands were making the
ascent. Then he stood trembling, as if in great
fear, and said:
"Lawdy, Boss, what is dat you got?"
The highwayman replied: "It's a bulldog."
"Kin he bark, Boss?" asked poor Eli.
"Certainly," was the answer.
"Boss, I'll give you a dollar des to hyeah dat
dawg bark wunst,'' said humble Eli.
"Bang!" went the gun, and the ball went crash¬
ing through the woods. Eli pulled out a silver
dollar and handed it over to the would-be robber.
"Do hit ag'in, Boss," said Eli.
A second; a third, a fourth, a fifth, a sixth time
the dog barked, and each time Eli paid a dollar for
the fun. When the revolver had been emptied the
old negro asked pitifully:
"Boss, can't he bark ho mo'?"
On being assured that the dog could bark no
more Eli said:
♦Published in Lippincott's.
THE BITER BIT.
123
"Well, Boss, ain't you got anuddah dawg!"
The robber said lie was sorry, but he did not
have another. Then Uncle Eli said, as he ran his
hand into his hip pocket:
"Boss, I got one nv dem dawgs myse'f, an' I
'spec' I'll let yon hyeah mine bark some. Drap
yo' dawg, Boss, an' drap hit quick," he command-
124
THE BITER BIT.
ed as lie pointed his gun at the would-be robber's
head. Down went the other man's gun.
"Now drap dem dollars right 'long side uv dat
gun. Be quick," said Eli. Down went the dollars.
"Now you git, an' don't you look back. Step
lively, an' ef you das' to look back you sho will
hyeah sump'n impawtunt!"
XXX.
THE ALPHABET OF SUCCESS.
Attend carefully to details.
Be prompt in all things.
Consider well, then decide positively.
Dare to do right, fear to do wrong.
Endure trials patiently.
Fight life's battles bravely.
Go not into the society of the vicious.
Hold integrity sacred.
Injure not another's reputation.
Join hands only with the virtuous.
Keep your mind free from evil thoughts.
Lie not for any consideration.
Make few special acquaintances.
Never try to appear what you are not.
Observe good manners.
Pay your debts promptly.
Question not the veracity of a friend.
Respect the counsel of your parents.
THE ALPHABET OF SUCCESS. 125
Sacrifice money rather than principle.
Touch not, taste not, handle not, intoxicating
drinks.
Use your leisure for improvement.
Venture not upon the threshold of wrong.
Watch carefully over your passions.
X-tend to everyone a kindly greeting.
Young people should read 4'FLOYD'S FLOW¬
ERS FOE COLORED CHILDREN."
Zealously labor for the right, and success is cer¬
tain.
EASTER MONDAY IN WASHINGTON.
The approach of Easter arouses delightful ex¬
pectations in the hearts of the little children in
the great city of Washington, the nation's cap¬
ital. On Easter Monday there is an event which
places the day among "the great holidays of the
year. The United States government is drawn
into the observance of the day because it furnishes
the country's greatest band to play the music
and the government pays the bills. The president
of the United States, whoever he may happen to be
when the day Tolls around, wins the gratitude of
the children, for he lets them play in his back
yard. The president's back yard is called the
White Lot; it covers many acres, and stretches
from the back porch of the White House way out
126 EASTER MONDAY IN. WASHINGTON.
to the great white Washington monument, which
towers for more than five hundred feet in the air
a half mile away. The lawns of the White Lot
are always green and inviting, and are covered
with the prettiest flowers and trees that you ever
saw. The ground is not low and level, except in
spots. There are many little hills which serve to
make it a beautiful place. Really the president's
back yard is a great big park.
Bright and early Easter Monday morning hap¬
py little groups of children may be seen proudly
marching toward the White House. Their moth¬
ers and nurses or some grown-up sisters are with
them. All the trolley cars are filled with them,
coming from every section of the city. Their lit¬
tle tongues are very busy chattering about the
pleasures that are in store for them. Some, whose
memories stretch back over a long, long expanse
of time, are relating some glowing incident of the
year before, for those who are yet unacquainted
with the joys that are to come. The little ones
listen with open mouths and wide-open eyes, and
hurry along all the faster.
I have been in Washington on two occasions at
these great celebrations—once while the sturdy
Grover Cleveland was president and once while
the great and good William McKinley occupied
the White House. In all my experience I have
never seen anything that has made me feel
prouder of my country than these feast days for
the children; for, in the president's back yard, all
EASTER MONDAY IN WASHINGTON. 127
the children meet on a common level—children
of all races and of all classes. Neither their fath¬
er's position nor their mother's social standing
concerns them. Two little strangers will meet and
play and romp together as if they had jbeen com¬
panions all their days.
All the little children carry with them little bas¬
kets and in the baskets are the prettiest Easter
eggs that can be made. Some are painted and
striped and spotted with bright colors; others are
covered with silver and gilt paper. When the
merry-makers get to the great big gates, where
the policemen always stand, they march right
through, because they know the policemen won't
stop them this time. The little fellows hold their
heads high and feel very important, and the po¬
licemen smile as they pass by. The children keep
coming and coming until by-and-by the lot is al¬
most filled, all the way from the White House to
the tall white monument, with laughing children—
and with eggs! It would seem that there were no
children left anywhere in Washington. The chil¬
dren are allowed to run on the grass just as much
as they please for this one day.
If you go near one of the little hills or long
banks you may hear one small girl say to another,
"My egg'11 'oil furver 'an your egg." And the
other small girl will answer, ''No; mine'11 'oil
furvest." And then they will start their eggs
rolling down the hills and go racing after them
to see whose egg goes the farthest.
128 EASTER MONDAY IN WASHINGTON.
Many of the boys throw their eggs along the
ground like ninepin balls, and see whose will go
the farthest. When they get tired of this they
stand a little distance apart and roll their eggs
against each other's to see whose will break.
There is another way that they try to break each
other's eggs. One holds an egg in his hand so that
the top is uncovered,1 and another takes his egg
and taps it gently against the first one. He keeps
hitting a little harder and harder until one of them
breaks, and the one whose egg doesn't break is
the winner.
Most of the eggs are boiled hard first, so that
the children are not very sorry, after all, if their
eggs do break, because they can eat them. And
their mothers or nurses will give them crackers
and salt to go with them.
In such a great crowd, where the children are
allowed to run where they please, there are sure
to be some little ones who will wander away from
their guardians. All the little "lost" children, as
fast as the officers find them, are taken to a small
house in the center of the lot, and the mothers
know just where to look for them. Often there
are twenty or thirty little tots, all tired out, wait¬
ing to be claimed by their guardians.
On the highest mound of all there is a band—
the United States Marine Band—and they play
some of their nicest music on this day. So when
the little ones get weary from running after their
eggs they can go and watch the man pound the
EASTER MONDAY IN WASHINGTON. 1^9
big bass drum, and listen to the music. Sometimes,
while the music is playing, the president will come
out on the back porch, high over all, and watch the
festivities. A mighty shout, from old and young
alike, always greets the appearance of the presi¬
dent. No wonder this is one of the big days for
the little folks.
By-and-by all the eggs are broken or eaten, and
then it is time for the tired and happy little fairies
to go home.
XXXH.
KEEPING ONE'S ENGAGEMENTS.
"What would happen if everybody should begin
tomorrow to keep all his promises and fulfill all
his engagements? I think it would make a new
world at once. There is great need that the atten¬
tion of young people should be called to the im¬
portance of keeping engagements. Much of the
confusion and annoyance and trouble of this world
would be done away with if people would learn
to keep their promises. The oft-repeated excuse,
1' I forgot,91 is not reasonable. If the memory is in
the habit of playing tricks with you, then you
ought to make notes of your engagements, write
them down in some way, so that you will not
forget them. Arnold of Eugby said: ''Thought¬
lessness is- a crime,'' and he was right. The great
130 KEEPING ONE'S ENGAGEMENTS.
Kuskin has also uttered strong words in con¬
demnation of thoughtlessness in youth. He said:
"But what excuse can you find for willfulness of
thought at the very time when every crisis of
Keeping One's Engagements.
future fortune hangs on your decisions? A youth
thoughtless! when the career of all his days de¬
pends on the opportunity of a moment. A youth
thoughtless! when his every act is a foundation-
stone of future conduct, and every imagination a
KEEPING ONE'S ENGAGEMENTS. 131
fountain of life or death. Be thoughtless in any
after years rather than now, though, indeed, there
is only one place where a man may be nobly
thoughtless—his deathbed. No thinking should
ever be left to be done there.''
And, then, boys and girls should remember that
promptness should always accompany the fulfill¬
ing of an engagement, otherwise the engagement
is not really kept. A person's time is a valuable
possession, which should be respected by all. Who
has not been exasperated by some one with appar¬
ent indifference keeping (?) an engagement a half
or three-quarters of an hour late! And often a
whole train of troubles will follow in the wake of
tardiness. The punctual boy or girl in this life
is the one who advances most rapidly. The punc¬
tual boy or girl will make a punctual man or
woman. A promise-breaker, or one who is late in
keeping his appointments, cannot in the true sense
of the term be considered a first-class person.
A MIDNIGHT MISHAP.*
Uncle Ned returned from his 'possum hunt about
midnight, bringing with him a fine, fat 'possum..
He built a glowing fire, dressed the 'possum, pared
and split the sweet potatoes, and pretty soon he
had the " 'possum an' 'taters" in the oven. While
*Published in Lippincott's.
132 A MIDNIGHT MISHAP.
the meal was cooking Uncle Ned amused himself
with his favorite old banjo. "When the 'possum
fhad been baked brown and
crisp he took it out of the
oven and set it on the
hearth to give it time to
cool. Mentally congratu¬
lating himself upon the
glorious repast he thought
soon to enjoy, he sat
silently for awhile in the
old armchair, but pres¬
ently he was snugly wrap¬
ped in the arms of '1 tired
nature's sweet restorer—
balmy sleep.''
It happened that two
young fellows who were
pretty well acquainted
with Uncle Ned's habits
had been stealthily watch¬
ing about the house wait¬
ing this particular chance.
As soon as they were con-
•<-— — vinced that the old man
A Midnight Mishap. Was safe in the arms of
Morpheus, they crept into the house and hurriedly
helped themselves to Uncle Ned's supper, includ¬
ing even the coffee and bread. When they fin¬
ished the hasty meal, by way of attempting to
cover up their tracks, they smeared Uncle Ned's
A MIDNIGHT MISHAP. 133
hands and mouth with the 'possum gravy and
then heat a retreat.
After a time Uncle Ned aroused from his peace-
fijl slumber. It is needless to say that he had
dreamed about his supper. At once he dived down
to inspect the viands, when, lo and behold, the
heartb was empty! Uncle Ned steadied himself
and studied awhile.
"Well," said he finally, "I must 'a' et dat 'pos¬
sum; I must 'a' et dat 'possum in my sleep!"
He looked at his hands. They were greasy. He
smelt his hands. As he did so he said:
"Dat smells like 'possum grease! I sho must 'a'
et dat'possum."
He discovered grease on his lips. Out went his
tongue.
"Dat tas'es like 'possum grease," he said. He
got up. He looked about the house. There was
no sign of intruders. He rubbed his stomach. He
resumed his seat, and, giving up all for lost, he
said:
"Well, ef I did eat dat 'possum, hit sets lightah
on my appertite dan any 'possum I evah et befo'.''
XXXIY.
FREDERICK DOUGLASS.
In 1893 the World's Columbian Exposition, or
World's Fair, was held in Chicago in commemora¬
tion of the four hundredth anniversary of the dis¬
covery of America. A negro man* the Hon. Fred-
134
FREDERICK DOUGLASS.
erick Douglass, attended that exposition and de¬
livered an address on negro day. Speaking of this
great man's visit the Advance, one of Chicago's
great religions papers, said:
"It was fine to see at the Congress on Africa
the tall form and magnificent head of the grand
old man, Frederick Douglass, now seventy-five
years of age, perfectly erect, kindly, majestic, the
' ancient fires of inspiration welling up through all
his being yet'; affable to all; finding it still to be
as natural to be eloquent as to speak at all; sym¬
pathetic to the core with the people of his own
race, yet none the less loyal to the common inter¬
ests of all the people of his country; neither blind
to the obstacles in their path and the cruel social
injustice and meanness to which they are often
exposed, nor, on the other hand, unmindful of the
friends they have in the South as also in the
North, or above all to the over-shining care and
purpose of God Himself, with the 'far-off divine
intent' that so clearly takes in the future of both
the American and African continents. Few Ameri¬
cans have had a more conspicuously providential
mission than Frederick Douglass. And hardly
anything in this remarkable congress was more
eloquent or more convincing than his personal
presence.''
Frederick Douglass was born a slave, and his
life as a slave was one of peculiar hardship. Of
it he himself says in his autobiography:
"I suffered little from any punishment I re-
FREDERICK DOUGLASS. 135
ceived, except from hunger and cold. I conld get
enough neither of food or clothing, but suffered
more from cold than hunger. In the heat of sum¬
mer or the cold of winter alike, I was kept almost
in a state of nudity—no shoes, jackets, trousers, or
stockings—nothing but a coarse tow linen shirt
reaching to the knee. That I wore night and day.
In the day time I could protect myself by keeping
on the sunny side of the house, and in bad weather
in the corner of the kitchen chimney. The great
difficulty was to keep warm at night. I had no
bed. The pigs in the pen had leaves, and the
horses in the stable had straw, but the children
had nothing. In very cold weather I sometimes
got down the bag in which corn was carried to
the mill and got into that. My feet have been so
cracked by frost that the pen with which I am
writing might have been laid in the gashes." With
regard to his food he said that he often disputed
"with the dogs over the crumbs that fell from his
master's table.
Now this man, born so lowly and surrounded
by such circumstances,'turned out to be in the
course of time by hard work and self-application
one of the most influential American citizens and
one of the greatest orators that this country has
ever known. Among other high offices of trust
and responsibility, he was once marshal of the
District of Columbia, recorder of deeds of the Dis¬
trict of Columbia, and United States minister to
Hayti.
136 FREDERICK DOUGLASS.
He died February 20th, 1895, at his home in
Anacostia, D. C., at the age of seventy-seven years.
A monument to his memory has been erected in
Rochester, N. Y., where he once lived.
What Frederick Douglass made of himself is
possible for any American boy with grit. Every
boy and girl in America should read the life of
this pre-eminent negro and strive to emulate his
virtues. His memory is worthy to be. honored to
the last day of time.
XXXV.
OUR DUMB ANIMALS.
Domestic animals—like horses, cats and dogs—
seem to be almost as dependent upon kind treat¬
ment and affection as human beings. Horses and
dogs especially are the most keenly intelligent of
our dumb friends, and are alike sensitive to
cruelty in any form. They are influenced to an
equal degree by kind and affectionate treatment.
If there is any form of cruelty that is more
reprehensible than another, it is abuse of a faith¬
ful horse who has given his whole life to the serv¬
ice of the owner. When a horse is pulling a heavy
load with all his might, doing the best ha can to
move under it, to strike him, spur him, or swear
at him is simply barbarous. To kick a dog around,
to tie tin cans to his tail, or strike him with sticks,
OUR DUMB ANIMALS.
137
just for the fun of hearing him yelp or seeing him
run, is equally barbarous. No high-minded man,
no high-minded boy or girl, would do such a thing.
We should never forget how helpless, in a large
sense, dumb animals are—and how absolutely de¬
pendent upon the humanity and kindness of their
owners. They are really the slaves of man, having
Oxje Dumb Animals.
no language by which to express their feelings or
needs.
The poet Cowper said:
1' I would not enter on my list of friends,
Though graced with polished manners and fine
sense,
Yet wanting sensibility, the man
"Who needlessly sets foot upon a worm." .
Every boy and girl should be willing to pledge
himself to be kind to all harmless living creatures,
and every boy and girl should strive to protect
138 OUR DUMB ANIMALS.
such, creatures from cruel usage on the part of
others. It is noble, boys and girls, for us to speak
for those that cannot speak for themselves, and it
is noble, also, for us to protect those that cannot
protect themselves.
XXXVI.
A PLUCKY BOY.
The boy marched straight up to the counter.
"Well, my little man," said the merchant,
"what can I do for you?"
"If you please," said the boy, "I came in to
see if you wouldn't let me work for you."
The boy was not yet ten years old, and he was
small for his age. But there was something in his
speech or manner that held the man's attention.
"Do some work for me, eh?" said the man.
"What kind of work could you do! You can
hardly look over the counter."
"Oh, yes; I can," said the little fellow, as he
stood on tiptoe and peeped over the counter.
Out of sheer curiosity the merchant came from
behind the counter, so as to get a good look at the
boy.
"Oh," he said, "I see you've got copper taps
on your shoes; I suppose your mother couldn't
keep you in shoes if they didn't have taps on
them!''
A PLUCKY BOY.
139
"She can't keep me in shoes anyway, sir," and
the little boy's voice hesitated.
"How old are you?" asked the merchant.
"I'm older than I look; folks say that I'm small
for my age."
"Well, what is your age?"
"I'm going on ten," said Davie, with a look
of great importance. "Yon see," he continued,
"my mother hasn't anybody but me, and this
morning I saw her crying because she could not
find five cents in her pocketbook, and she thinks
she must have lost it—and it was—the—last cent
—that she had—in the world; and—I—have—not
—had—any—breakfast, sir." The voice again
hesitated, and tears came into the little boy's eyes.
"Oh, don't cry, my little man; I guess I can
help you to a breakfast. Here, take this quarter!''
He pulled a quarter from his vest pocket and
handed it to the boy. The boy shook his head.
"Mother.wouldn't let me beg," was his simple
answer.
'' Humph!'' said the merchant. '' Where is your
father!"
"We never heard of him, sir, after he went
away. He was lost in the steamer City of New
York."
"That's too bad. But you're a plucky little fel¬
low, anyhow. Let me see,'' and he looked straight
down into the boy's eyes, and the boy looked
straight up at him. Turning to the head man,
after awhile, the merchant said:
140
A PLUCKY BOY.
"Palmer, is cash boy No. 5 still sick?"
"Dead, sir; died last night," was the reply.
"I'm sorry; but here's a boy you might use.
Put him down in No. 5's place. We'll try him for
"The Boy Marched Straight up to the Counter. "
awhile, anyhow. "What is your name, my little
man?" he asked, turning again to the boy.
"Davie Thomas."
"Well, Davie, we'll give you three dollars a
week to start with; you come tomorrow morning
and I'll tell you what to do. Here's a dollar of
your wages in advance. I'll take it out of your
first week's pay. Do you understand ?''
A PLUCKY BOY.
141
"Yes, sir; I understand, and I thank you, too.
I'll be back in the morning."
Davie shot out of the store, and lost no time in
getting home. The old creaky steps in the old
ram-shackle house fairly sang with delight as the
weight of the little boy hurried up them.
"I've got it, mother;" exclaimed Davie. "I'm
a cash boy! The man's going to give me three
dollars a week, and he says I've got pluck, too;
and here's a dollar to get some breakfast with, and
don't you cry any more, for I'm going to be the
man of this house now.''
At first the mother was dumfounded; then she
looked confused; and then she looked—well, it
passes my power to tell how she did look as she
took Davie in her arms and hugged him and
kissed him, the tears streaming down her cheeks.
But they were tears of joy and thankfulness!
XXXVII.
A HEAET-TO-HEART TALK.
"Henry, I asked you to remain after school a
few minutes because I wanted you to help me re¬
arrange the desks and furniture, but I had an¬
other reason for asking you to remain, and I think
it is more important than the one I have just
stated.''
The desks had all been arranged according to
142 A HEART-TO-HEART TALK.
the teacher's notion, and Henry Holt had gathered
up his books to go home. It was then that his
teacher, Miss Ada Johnson, addressed him.
''Won't yon sit down here a minute, David?"
she continued. "I wish to speak to you a min¬
ute or two."
David quietly took a seat. He was one of the
A Heart-to-Heart Talk.
largest boys in school, and had been giving an
unusual amount of trouble during the day. In
fact he had been a source of annoyance ever since
the new teacher had taken charge.
"David," the teacher went on, "I wonder if you
realize how hard you have made it for me in
school today? Is there any reason why we cannot
A HEART-TO-HEART TALK. 143
"be friends and work together? And I wish, to be
a friend to you, if you will let me. You could
help me so much and you could help your school¬
mates so much if you only would. I want to ask
you if you think your conduct has been manly to¬
day? Has it been kind?"
David said nothing, but hung his head.
"I heard before I came here that you were an
unruly boy. People say that you will neither
, study nor work, and some people say that you
are a very mean boy. Some of these things may be
true, David, I am sorry to say, but I want to tell
you that you are the only hope of a widowed
mother, and I want to say, also, that I think that
you are breaking her heart." The teacher's voice
faltered at the last words.
"I know that your father," the low voice went
on, "was a brave and noble man; and when I hear
people say, 'It is a good thing that Henry Oliver
died before he knew what his son was coming to,'
I think what a pity it is that they cannot say,
'How sad it is that Henry Oliver died before he
could know what a fine, manly fellow his son
would be, and what a stay and comfort to his
mother'."
The boy's head dropped to the desk in front of
him, and he began to sob. The teacher went over
to him and said gently:
"You can be all this. It is in your power to
be all that your father would have you, all that
your mother would have you. Will you not turn
144 A HEART-TO-HEART TALK.
over a new leaf now, not only in your behavror and
work in school, but in your whole life as well?"
David raised his head.
"I am with you—I'll do it, teacher," he replied,
a new resolve shining in his face. All that day
he did some of the most serious thinking of his
life. And he kept his promise.
The years have been many since then. The lit¬
tle teacher has long since passed to her rest, but
David Oliver is a living monument to the power
of a few searching words, the potency of a little
personal interest and kindliness manifested at a
critical time.
xxxvin.
A GHOST STORY.
Uncle Mose, an old-time colored man, once said
in a company of people who were talking about
ghosts that he wasn't afraid of any ghost that ever
walked the earth.
"No, sah; not me," he said; "I'se got my fuss
time to be skeered uv anyt'ing dat's dead."
"Whereupon Noah Johnson told Uncte Mose that
he would bet him a load of watermelons that he
couldn't spend one night in the "Widder Smith's
house." Now, the Widow Smith's house was said
to be haunted, or, in other words, it was filled with
ghosts.
A GHOST STORY.
145
"Des name de night," said Uncle Mose.. "I'll
stay dar; no lia'nts won't bodder wid me. No, sail;
no ha'nts won't bodder wid me, an' yo' watermil-
lions is des ez good ez gone already!"
The details were arranged; judges were appoint¬
ed; and Uncle Mose was to stay in the haunted
"Huh! Hun! There don't Seem to be but Two of Us
Here To-night."
house that very night. He got him some pine-
knots to keep a good blaze in the old-fashioned
fireplace, carried along an extra plug of tobacco,
secured a large drygoods box to be used for a
chair, and then he set out for the house.
He made a blaze and seated himself on the pine
box. For a time he sung a number of old planta-
146
A GHOST STORY.
tion songs for his own amusement, as well as to
keep him company. About midnight, feeling some¬
what drowsy, Uncle Mose got up, took a light
and went on a tour of inspection. He examined
every room in the house. His search revealed
nothing unusual. He wound up his search chuck¬
ling to himself:
"I sho is makin' dis load uv watermillions easy.
Noah Johnsing didn't know who he's foolin' wid.
I'm a man myse'f; I ain't afeared uv nothin'—I
ain't!"
Down he sat on the box, and pretty soon he was
dozing. It was not very long before he suddenly
awoke. He was at once seized with strange and
sudden fear. He was too frightened to move. Al¬
though he did not look around, he was conscious
that there was another presence in the room. His
hair stood on ends. He felt a cold chill run up and
down his back. By that time he knew that the
object in the room, whatever it was, was moving
towards him. Still he did not move, because he
could not. The ghost (for that was what all the
people said it was) stood over Uncle Mose for a
little while, and then quietly sat down on the box
beside him. Uncle Mose looked straight into the
fireplace, but his heart was beating like a runaway
horse. The silence in the room at that moment
was like unto the silence of death. Everything
was still and solemn. Uncle Mose could almost
hear his own heart beating. The ghost finally
broke the silence by saying, with a loud sigh:
A GHOST STORY.
147
"Hull! HuIl! There don't seem to be but two
of us here tonight!''
It was then that Uncle Mose looked around for
the first time. As he did so he exclaimed:
"Yas; an' f'um dis out dah won't be but one!"
And with that he jumped through the window,
taking a part of the sash with him.
The judges had been waiting in the open air
near the house, so as to watch the proceedings.
They called to the fleeing Uncle Mose, as he passed
them, and ordered him to stop. They said that
they were all there and would protect him. But
Uncle Mose, as he kept on running, hallooed back:
"I'll see y'all later!"
He ran at the top of his speed for more than a
mile, for he was well nigh scared to death. By-
and-by, from sheer exhaustion, he was compelled
to stop for a little rest. He was wet with perspira¬
tion from head to foot, and his clothes were as
limp as a wet dishrag. But the poor old man had
no sooner seated himself on a stone by the road¬
side than up jumps the ghost and sits down beside
him once more.
"Huh!" said the ghost. "You seem to have
made pretty good time tonight.''
" Yas," said Uncle Mose; "but-what I hase done
ain't nothin' to what I'se gwinter do!" And up
he jumped and lit out once more.
He had not gone far on his second trip before an
old rabbit ran out of the bushes and took out down
148
A GHOST STORY.
the road ahead of him. Uncle Mose hallooed at
the rabbit and said:
"Git out nv de way, rabbit, an' let somebody
run what kin run!''
On and on the poor old man, almost scared to
death, ran and ran. Perhaps he would have been
running until now but for a very unfortunate ac¬
cident. About five miles from the "Widow Smith's
house he came in contact with the limb of a weep¬
ing willow tree that hung across the road. The
poor old fellow, already tired out, was knocked
speechless and senseless. Toward the break of day
the judges, who had followed him, found him ly¬
ing on the ground doubled up near the tree. Dim
consciousness was slowly returning when they
picked him up. They rubbed him, and walked him
around for a little while, and soon he was able to
move himself.
The first thing Uncle Mose said was:
"Tell Noah not to min' 'bout dem watermil-
lions. I stayed in dat house des ez long ez I could
keep my conscience quiet. My ole mammy alius
tole me dat hit wuz a sin an' a shame to bet, an'
now I b'lieves hit!"
And to this day, boys and girls, if you want to
see a really mad man, you just ask Uncle Mose if
he ever saw a ghost.
GOOD CHEER.
149
GOOD CHEEE.
Everybody loves the cheerful boy or girl, the
cheerful man or woman; and everybody ought to
love such people. I wish all the boys and girls in
America would organize one grand SUNSHINE
SOCIETY, whose chief object should be the pro¬
motion of good feeling, good cheer, peace and hap¬
piness among all the people everywhere. But, first,
a boy or girl, man or woman, must have sunshine
in their own souls before they can communicate
sunshine to others. And, boys and girls, it would
greatly assist us in securing sunshine in our souls
if we looked at our mercies with both eyes, as I
might say, and at our troubles and trials with only
one eye. What we enjoy in this world is always
a good deal more than that which we do not enjoy;
but we do not magnify our blessings sufficiently.
We do not make as much of them as we ought.
We do not rejoice because of them as we ought.
We ought to keep daily a record of God's good¬
ness and kindness and patience and love. The
Lord's mercies are new every morning and fresh
every evening; but we do not realize that they are
so, because we do not stop to count them up; we do
not think about them. If we stopped to weigh the
matter I think we should find more in our lives
to be happy about than to be sorry about. Our
150
GOOD CHEER.
good fortunes always outweigh our misfortunes;
and we should find it so if we only acquired the
habit of remembering God's goodness to us as well
as the disappointments and sorrows and afflic¬
tions which are for us all.
Then we should study contentment. We should
study to be content. We must cultivate the habit
of being satisfied with what we have at present,
and we should not worry about those things which
we do not possess. Worry^ because of things they
did not possess has made countless thousands
mourn. Let us enjoy what we have. Let us make
the most of what we have. And let us not worry
about things which we do not possess. No mat¬
ter how miserable our own lot may be, there is
always some one whose lot is more miserable still.
Worry kills more people than work. In fact worry
unfits a man for work. The man who has learned
the philosophy of being content in whatsoever
state he is is the man who is and will be happy.
One of the things in this world that pays a hun¬
dred-fold is contentment, and there is nothing that
casts so much blight and mildew upon life's fair¬
est flowers as discontent.
Again, it would help us to keep cheerful if we
kept steadily engaged in some work of usefulness.
Let us go about doing good. Let us go about
seeking opportunities of doing good. Doing good
makes the heart healthy, and heart-health makes
sunshine, happiness and good cheer.
A little thought will convince you, boys and
GOOD CHEER.
151
girls, that your own happiness in this world de¬
pends very largely on the way other people bear
themselves toward you. The looks and tones at
your breakfast table, the conduct of your play¬
mates, the faithful or unreliable people that you
deal with, what people say to you on the street,
the letters you get, the friends or foes you meet—
these things make up very much of the pleasure
or misery of your day. Turn the thought around,
and remember that just so much are you adding to
the pleasure or misery of other people's days. And
this is the half of the matter that you can con¬
trol. v "Whether any particular day shall bring to
you more of happiness or of suffering is largely
beyond your power to determine. Whether each
day of your life shall give happiness or suffering
to others rests with yourself. And there is where
the test of character comes. We must be continu¬
ally sacrificing our wills to the wills of others,
bearing without notice sights and sounds that an¬
noy us, setting about this or that task when we
would rather be doing something else, persever¬
ing in it often when we are very tired of it, keep¬
ing company for duty's sake when it would be
a great joy to us to be by ourselves; and then
there axe all the trifling and outward accidents
of life, bodily pain and weakness, it may be, long
continued, losing what we value, missing what we
desire, deceit, ingratitude and treachery where we
least expected them; folly, rashness and willful¬
ness in ourselves. All these little worries which
152
GOOD CHEER.
we meet each day may lie as stumbling blocks
across our way, or we may make of them, if we
choose, stepping stones of grace.
I want all the little boys and girls who read
this book to be joy-makers, to be burden-bearers,
to be among those who shall assist in filling the
whole world with good cheer. It is our duty to
cheer and comfort others; it is our duty to make
the world not only better but happier—happier be¬
cause better—for our having lived in it. To all
the other beatitudes might well be added this one:
Blessed are the cheerful people, for they shall in-
inherit the earth.
XL.
LIFE A BATTLE.
Boys and girls, I want to repeat to you now
some words which were delivered long ago by the
Hon. Schuyler Colfax, a man who was once the
vice-president of the United States. These words
are wholesome, and should be read and considered
by parents and school teachers and by children
themselves all over our land:
"Above all things, teach children what their
life is. It is not breathing, moving, playing, sleep¬
ing, simply. Life is a battle. All thoughtful peo¬
ple see it so. A battle between good and evil from
childhood. Good influences, drawing us up toward
LIFE A BATTLE.
153
the divine; bad influences, drawing us down to the
brute. Midway we stand, between the divine and
the brute. How to cultivate the good side of the
nature is the greatest lesson of life to teach. Teach
children that they lead these two lives; the life
without and the life within; and that the inside
must be pure in the sight of God as well as the
outside in the sight of men.
''There are five means of learning. These are:
Observation, reading, conversation, memory, re¬
flection.
"Educators sometimes, in their anxiety to se¬
cure a wide range of studies, do not sufficiently
impress upon their scholars the value of memory.
Now, our memory is one of the most valuable
gifts God has bestowed upon us, and one of the
most mysterious. Take a tumbler and pour water
into it; by-and-by you can pour no more: it is
full. It is not so with the mind. You cannot fill
it full of knowledge in a whole lifetime. Pour in
all you please, and it still.thirsts for more.
"Remember this:
"Knowledge is not what you learn, but what
you remember.
"It is not what you eat, but what you digest,
that makes you grow.
"It is not the money you handle, but that you
keep, that makes you rich.
"It is not what you study, but what you re¬
member and reflect upon, that makes you learned.
"One more suggestion:
154
LIFE A BATTLE.
4 4 Above all things else, strive to fit the children
in your charge to be useful men and women; men
and women you may be proud of in after-life.
While they are young teach them that far above
physical courage, which will lead them to face
the cannon's mouth; above wealth, which would
give them farms and houses and bank stocks and
gold; is moral courage—that courage by which
they will stand fearlessly, frankly, firmly for the
right. Every man or woman who dares to stand
for the right when evil has its legions, is the true
moral victor in this life and in the land beyond
the stars."
These brave and true words were spoken by Mr.
Colfax long years ago. They were true then;
they are no less true now. Every boy in America
should treasure them in his heart. Every girl in
America should commit them to memory and make
them the rule of her life. Mothers and fathers,
school teachers and preachers, and all who have
the care of the young in any way would do well
to study these wise counsels and reflect upon them
and strive to impress upon those for whom they
are laboring.
If you would win the victory in the battle of life,
my young friends, you must watch the little
things. It is said that there is a barn upon the
Alleghany Mountains so built that the rain which
falls upon it separates in such a manner that that
which falls upon one side of the roof runs into
a little stream that flows into the Susquehanna
LIFE A BATTLE.
155
and thence into Chesapeake Bay and on into the
Atlantic Ocean; that which falls upon the other
side is carried into the Alleghany River, thence in¬
to the Ohio, and onward to the Gulf of Mexico.
The point where the waters divide is very small,
hut how different the course of these waters! So
it is with people, young or old. A very little
thing changes the channel of their lives. Much
will depend upon the kinds of tempers you have,
boys and girls. If you are sour and cross and
crabbed," no one ,will love you. If you are kind
and cheerful, you will have friends wherever you
go. Much will depend upon the way in which you
improve your school days; upon the kind of com¬
panions you have; and upon the kind of habits
you form. If you would win a great victory in
fighting the battle of life you must look well to
the little things.
XLI.
RULED BY PRIMITIVE METHODS.*
I learned that the colored male citizens of Lau¬
rens County Ga., had organized a unique "Good
Government Club," and, being anxious to learn
something of it, I called on the secretary. The sec¬
retary explained the club to me as follows:
"Our society is a voluntary organization, and
♦Published in The World's Work.
156 RULED BY PRIMITIVE METHODS.
has for its object the betterment of the race. It
doesn't cost anything to join, and any male citizen
upward of twenty-one years old may become a
member by taking an oath to be governed by our
constitution and by-laws. There are no monthly
dues. Now and then we make up a purse to help a
needy brother. Our plan is to inquire into the
mode of living of our members and correct, if
possible, any faults. If any member fails or refuses
to correct a fault complained of, he is then tried
by a sort of courtmartial. The, man under charge
is allowed to have counsel from among the mem¬
bers of the organization. If he is found guilty,
the punishment is usually a flogging given in the
presence of the other members. We whip a man
for a number of things: getting drunk, wife-beat¬
ing, vagrancy, selling his vote, failure to provide
for his family, failure to make an honest effort
to pay his debts, using profane language and so
on.
"It was reported to the society that one man's
wife was badly in need of a wash pot. The man
was cited to show cause why he had not provided
his wife with the article. He failed to buy one
before the trial came off, and, when tried, failed
to show how his wife could get along without one
and still be put to no great inconvenience. Con¬
viction followed. He was whipped, and ordered to
get a pot within thirty days. ... In
riding past the home of another man it was seen
by one of our members that the-front gate had
RULED BY PRIMITIVE METHODS.
157
fallen down. From appearances lie had made no
effort to put it up. At the trial it was proved that
the gate had been down for several weeks, and
that his wife had tried many times to get him to
take more pride in the care of his home. Convic-
"Charged with Kissing a Girl on the Street."
tion followed and the husband will remember a
long time the flogging he got that night.
We had a man before us once charged with
kissing a girl on the street. The girl did not ap-
158 RULED BY PRIMITIVE METHODS.
pear against him; we could not get her to do so;
and the man stoutly denied the charge. He told
our judge that he had never kissed a woman in
his life. The judge asked him if he wasn't mar¬
ried. "'No, sail,' he said, 'my wife's dead. I'm
de daddy uv nine chilluns, an' I nevah kissed a
woman in my life.' In the midst of much laugh¬
ter, the judge asked, 'Did you never kiss your
wife?' Without a moment's hesitation the man
said: 'No, sah; no sah.' Then the judge said:
'Jim, you're the biggest liar in town, and I sen¬
tence you to be given forty-nine lashes, but I'll
suspend the sentence if you'll agree to leave town
within the next five hours.' 'Judge,' said Jim, 'I
don't want no five hours; I'll be gone in five min¬
utes.' . . . The strangest case I re¬
member was the case of a man charged with beat¬
ing his wife. His wife was a hard-working wash¬
erwoman. She had complained to us three or four
times, but always repented before the time for
trial, and would not appear against her husband.
When she did come to our meeting she said: 'Now,
judge, I'se a-gwine ter tell you evaht'ing.' And
she told how her husband would get drunk and
come home and curse and beat her unmercifully.
She gave a graphic account of the last whipping
she had received. The judge said: 'I sentence
this man to be given one hundred and one lashes
—the maximum of the law.' 'Dar, now!' ex¬
claimed the woman. 'Dar now! I'se done fixed
you at las'! I tol' you 'bout beatin' on me like I
RULED BY PRIMITIVE METHODS. 159
wuz a dawg!' Turning to tlie judge she said:
'Judge, I'll take de whuppin' fur Mm ef you'll
lemmej I 'spec' he'll be good atter dis.' "
XLn.
HUNTING AN EASY PLACE.
A nicely dressed young man, fifteen or sixteen
years old, who had just finished his course in the
high school, stepped into the office of the president
of the Smutville Short Line Eailroad.
''Well," said the president, looking up from a
mass of correspondence, "what can I do for you,
sir?"
"I have just finished my course in the high
school,'' the young man began nervously, '' and I
thought that I might be able to secure a desirable
position with your company. I came in to talk
with you about it."
The president asked the young man to have a
seat.
"So," said the president, "you want a desirable
place, eh?"
"I do, sir," said the young.man, his heart beat¬
ing high with hope.
"A place," continued the president, "that
would pay you something like a hundred dollars
a month ?''
160 HUNTING AN EASY PLACE.
"Something like that," said the young man
eagerly.
"I guess you would like it very well, too, if I
could arrange it So that you could report forwork
at nine o'clock in the mornings and get off every
afternoon at three or four o 'clock. In other words,
you want something easy. I can see by looking at
you that you are not accustomed to hard work,
and you could not fill a place that required you to
report at six o'clock every morning and work un¬
til six every afternoon. Do I size you up cojrect-
iyr>
"I think so, sir," was the reply.
"In plain English then, you are looking for a
soft place with the Short Line?"
"I am, sir."
"Well, sir," said the president, smiling for the
first time, "I regret to inform you that there is
only one such place on our railroad. I occupy that
place myself, and I am not thinking of resigning."
The young man's face flushed.
The president continued: "I hope you will not
think that it is going beyond what is right and
proper for me to say, but I must tell you, young
man, that you have started out in life with the
wrong notion. No brave and strong young man is
going about looking for an easy place. The brave
and true man asks only for work. And the men
who are occupying what you call the easy places
in this life today are the men who have climbed
into them by hard work. You are very much mis-
HUNTING AN EASY PLACE, 161
taken if you think that they have stepped into
them from the high school. In fact, and yon'11
find it ont soon enough for yourself, there are
really no soft or easy places in this world, and the
"I Have Just Finished My Course in the High School."
man who goes about seeking such places stamps
himself at once as a failure. Nobody will ever em¬
ploy such a boy, and such a boy would be no good
if he were employed. Let me, as a friend, advise
you, young man, that the next place you go to to
162
HUNTING AN EASY PLACE.
apply for a job, you ask for a chance to begin at
the bottom. If it happens to be a railroad, ask
to be given a chance to do anything—firing an en¬
gine, or cleaning cars, or laboring in the round¬
house. Be willing to begin low down in the busi¬
ness, and, if you're made out of the right stuff,
you will fight your way to the front. I started in
with the Short Line as a day laborer myself? and
if I had not done so I would not be at its head
today. You advertise your own folly when you
go and ask a sensible business man to put you at
the start at the head of something. You must be¬
gin at the bottom and work up to the top. That is
the rule everywhere, and you will not, I am sure,
prove an exception to it.''
Let us hope, boys and girls, that this young mall
left the president's office a wiser young man. Be
sure not to follow his example. Don't go around
hunting for easy places.
XLni.
BURT BANKSTON'S BEQUEST.
Burt Bankston was a noted Kentucky gambler.
Those who knew him best said that he had some
redeeming traits. He never drank whiskey; he
used tobacco in no form; and he seldom indulged
in profanity. Moreover he frequently went to
church.
BURT BANKSTON'S BEQUEST 163
But he" never made any excuses for Ms gam¬
bling. He rather defended it, saying that gambling
was not a sport or pastime with him, but a busi-
164 BURT BANKSTON'S BEQUEST
ness. He said he gambled for the same reason
that a man kept a store or practiced law—for a
living.
His wife declared that he was peaceable and
quiet at home. The only fault she found with
him, according to her own testimony, was that he
kept late hours and often spent the whole night
away from home. And she begged him many
times to quit the gambling table. Her appeal
always fell on deaf ears.
"Burt, I'm going to quit; I've got enough; this
is my last night at this kind of thing." The
speaker was Bill Mobley, one of Burt's chums.
"All right, Bill," said Burt, "I guess I'll fol¬
low you in a few days; I'm getting old now."
The next morning Bill Mobley was found dead
upon the streets of Lecompton. Whether he had
taken his own life or been sandbagged on his way
home was never found out.
From that day forward no man ever saw Burt
Bankston in a gambling house. He opened a
grocery store—that failed. He started a laundry—
that fell through. He tried a peanut stand; he
peddled flowers about the street. Compared with
his former high living, his existence was miser¬
able. His wife died after a few years. Friends
said that she died of remorse, or a broken heart,
or something of that kind. She could not bear to
live on after her husband's downfall—that is, his
downfall in the eye of the world. Soon after she
died Burt was stricken with a dreadful sickness.
BURT BANKSTON'S BEQUEST 165
He came near dying. By-and-by he was restored
to health, but he was broken and bent with old
age. Friends pitied him, and secured him a place
as watchman at a celebrated orphan's home.
At last one day Burt Bankston died, everybody
believing him to be a pauper. When his will was
probated it was found that he left an estate worth
nearly $500,000. This sum Burt designated to be
divided into three parts—one part to be devoted
166 BURT BANKSTON'S BEQUEST.
to the common school education of the masses;
another part to the work of the Y. M. C. A., and
the third to the orphan asylum. * Among other
things, in the body of the will Burt Bankston said:
"For twenty years I was a gambler. The past
twenty years I have spent repenting. I advise all
young men to let gambling alone; and I hope that
those who may be benefited by my bequest may be
willing to follow the advice of one who has passed
through the fire."
XLIV.
THE BIG BLACK BUBGLAR.
One cold winter night, about midnight, my good
wife called to me, saying:
"Dan! Dan! Get up! Get up!"
"What's the niatter?" I asked with much
alarm.
"Somebody's in the dining-room; I heard them
rattling the dishes just a minute ago."
"I don't hear anything, wife," I said slowly.
"There's somebody in there sure; I heard them
myself. Do get up, Dan, before they take every¬
thing we've got."
"I haven't got a gun or any kind of weapon,"
I said, still fighting for time.
"Well, get up and make a noise—walk around
heavy—that'll frighten 'em and make 'em leave."
THE BIG BLACK BURGLAR. 167
I got up quietly, turned up the lamp, and looked
about me with a sigh.
"Be quick," said my wife.
"In a minute,'' said I.
I tipped around to the wall on the side of the
bed, and took down an old iron sword, which had
done duty in the Mexican war, and which we had
preserved as an heirloom.
"Hurry, hurry, Dan!" said my wife.
"All right," I said with meekness.
I took the sword in one hand and the lamp in
the other, and moved gently toward the door,
which opened from our bed-room into the dining-
room.
Pausing at the door, I said,
"Hallo! Hallo, in there!"
The response came from my wife in bed.
"Open the door, Dan; open the door!"
Humbly I placed the lamp on the floor close by
the door, caught a tight grip on my old war-piece,
and then quickly shoved the door wide open. I
intended, of course, after getting my bearings,' to
pick up the lamp and enter the dining-room on a
tour of inspection. But, I assure you, there was
no time for any such careful procedure. As soon
as the door was opened and the light went stream¬
ing into the dining-room, something fell to the
floor with a terrible thud, and quicker than it
takes to tell it a great big black something, that
looked to me like a buffalo or elephant, came
bounding toward me. It was all so sudden that it
168 THE BIG BLACK BURGLAR.
surprised me, and I fell back trembling. Over
went the lamp. It broke. Out came the oil. It
took fire, and pretty soon the lambrequin close by
took fire also.
Down I snatched it
and threw it into
the grate. I reached
for the first thing
handy, and tried to
smother the fire on
the floor. In doing
so, I stepped on a
of glass and cut my
I burnt my hands ter-
And, to beat it all, my
night shirt caught on fire. I
ran to the bed, and sat down
in order to quench the blaze.
This shows that I still
had some presence of
mind left, although, as a matter
of fact, this new extinguishing
process scorched my legs aw¬
fully.
When all was quiet again,
and I lit another lamp in order
to take an inventory, my bed¬
room was a sight to behold! I
found that in the struggle, my old army sword
had been plunged amidship into the handsome
mirror of our dresser, and had also made havoc
piece
foot,
ribly.
"The Big Black
Bubglar."
THE BIG BLACK BURGLAR. 169
of a reproduction of Millet's Angelus. I dis¬
covered, also, that I had used my brand-new
$50 overcoat to extinguish the fire, and that
many of the handsome photos of our friends
that stood on the mantle had been ruined. Alto¬
gether that one night's experience cost me in the
neighborhood of $100, not to mention my own per¬
sonal injuries. It was a terrible night, I tell you.
And far-off in one corner, I saw, crouching in
abject fear, the cause of all my troubles—the
burly black burglar. And what do you think it
was ? It was nothing in the world but an old black
Tom Cat, who had been a member of our family
for many years!
XLV.
PIN-MONEY MADE WITH THE NEEDLE.
Surely all young girls ought to know how to
sew, and, not only sew, but all girls, I think, ought
to love the purely feminine occupation of sewing.
Since I am sure that many of the little girls who
will read this book know how to sew, I am going
to tell you about some little sewing that my wife
did.
In 1903, the Ladies' Home Journal, of Phila¬
delphia, offered a prize of fifty dollars for the best
way to make pin-money at home. You know,
170 PIN-MONEY MADE WITH NEEDLE.
girls, that pin-money means pocket change or
spending money. Many hundreds of women all
over the world sent in suggestions to the Ladies'
Home Journal, each one hoping, I am sure, that
her suggestion would win first prize. The follow¬
ing letter sent to my wife will tell you just how
her suggestion was received:
"THE LADIES' HOME JOURNAL,
"Philadelphia. February 5, 1903.
"Dear Madam:
"It gives me much pleasure to tell you that
among the hundreds of letters received in response
to the offer made in our January magazine in con¬
nection with The Editor's Want-Box, Mr. Bok has
chosen your offering as the one entitled to the first
prize of fifty dollars. He congratulates you upon
your success and thanks you for the interest you
have shown.
'' Our Treasurer will send you a check within a
week. Very truly yours,
"Win. V. Alexander,
"Managing Editor.
"Mrs. Ella Floyd."
The check came all right, girls, and my wife
thought, as she said to me, that in winning the
prize she had found a new way to make pin-money
—that is, by telling others how to make pin-money
at home.
Two hundred of the little articles were after¬
wards published from time to time in The Ladies'
Home Journal. The first article of the series ap-
PIN-MONEY MADE WITH NEEDLE. 171
peared in the magazine for January, 1904, and my
wife's little story, which won first money, was at
the head of the list. I am going to give here the
whole of the little article, as published in The
Ladies' Home Journal. Of pourse, I am proud
that she won the prize, and I hope other young
ladies by-and-by may be the - happy winners in
such contests. And here is the article:
"When one's pin-money is all gone but twenty-
five cents the question comes as to the way to
replenish it. One day when I found that I had
only that amount I invested it as follows:
i
1 yard of lawn .10
1 yard of lace 10
1 spool of cotton 05
.25
"The same day I-made three baby caps as
daintily as I could with these materials. The next
day I sold them for twenty-five cents each, and
then I had seventy-five cents. I then bought
1 yard of lawn 15
2^ yards of lace 25
2 yards of ribbon 25
2 tiny buckles 05
1 spool of cotton 05
.75
"With these materials I made two baby caps,
somewhat larger than the first ones, and trimmed
172 PIN-MONEY MADE WITH NEEDLE.
more prettily. I found no trouble in selling them
for $1.50. Straightway I invested the sum in
lawn, lace, ribbon, etc., and as I had done so well
with the caps I thought I would try my hand on
Pin Money Made with the Needle.
little bonnets. I made two. A friend offered me
$5 for them before they were finished. I accepted
her offer and from that day to this I have never
been troubled about pin-money.
"In four weeks' time I made and sold twenty
PIN-MONEY MADE WITH NEEDLE. 173
caps and eleven bonnets. The material for the
caps cost me $2.50—twelve and a half cents for
each. I sold them for twenty-five cents each. The
material for the bonnets cost me $8.25, or seventy-
five cents each. I sold them for $2.50 each. So I
netted $21.75 for my work. The time which I
devoted to this enterprise was that which ordi¬
narily I would have used in calling or in running
up bills for my husband to pay.
" Since the first four weeks of which I have
spoken in detail I have made more expensive caps
and bonnets for babies from six months to about
three years old. The last one I made was of silk,
beautifully trimmed, tucked and hemstitched. I
sold it for $6, making a clear profit of $3. My
husband says I'll soon be in position to organize
a trust."
XL VI.
SELF-HELP.
If there is one idea for which more than any
other the public school system should stand, it is
the idea of self-help. Sef-help is the best kind of
help in the world, and one cannot learn this lesson
too early in life. Even little children—three, four,
five, six and eight years old—should be taught to
work. Any little child is just as capable of doing
the little things in work as he is in play. Why
174
SELF-HELP.
should not the little girl be taught to trim and
wash the dress of her doll! Why should not the
little children be taught to sweep up the dirt that
they have scattered in play? Why should they
not be taught to remove the dishes from the table,
brush up the crumbs, set back the chairs, pick up
chips, put the kindling wood in its place, bring
the potatoes in from the garden, help to pick over
the berries, and so forth? We might argue this
question from now until doom's day, and nobody,
I think, would be able to give any good reason why
children should not be taught to do the little
things. Little children who are accustomed to hav¬
ing everything done for them by others are very
soon beset with the rust of laziness and the canker
of pride. Whereas, on the other hand, if children
are taught to help themselves as soon as and as
much as they are able, it will tend to improve their
faculties, and will, at the same time, have a good »
influence upon their dispositions.
Childhood and youth are periods of life which
materially influence all of its following periods,
and whether the earlier years of one's life be
passed in idleness and indolence, or in well-
directed industry, is a point on which greatly de¬
pends the worth or the worthlessness of human
character. Where is the man who guides his
affairs with discretion, or the woman that looketh
well to the ways of her household, and yet was not
in some measure imbued with industrious and
provident habits in early life! On the other hand,
SELF-HELP.
175
Washing Dollie's Clothes.
who that has been treated until the age of fifteen
or twenty like a helpless infant, and had every
want supplied without being put to the necessity
of either mental or bodily exertion, was ever good
for anything afterwards?
176
SELF-HELP.
The tendency of the age is by far too much in
the direction of keeping our young boys solely for
the purpose of loafing about the streets, or stand¬
ing around the soda fountains on Sunday—and
our young girls for parties, social entertainments,
picnics, excursions and the like. So that by the
time our boys and girls reach manhood and
womanhood, they despise honest labor and are
afraid to engage in real hard work. A young
woman may know how to read and write—may
understand grammar, history, and geography—
may sing sweetly and play the piano well; but,
whatever else she may know or may not know, if
she does not know how to bake a hoe-cake of
bread, make her little brother or sister a pair of
pants or a plain dress, she is only half educated.
In fact, every young woman should not oniy know
how to perform every duty connected with a
household, but every young woman should take
some part in household work. No girl need tell
me that she really loves her mother if she is will¬
ing to leave to her mother the work of washing
the dishes, sweeping and scouring the floors, car¬
ing for the little children, doing the Monday wash¬
ings, the house cleaning, and the like, while she
devotes herself to pleasure, novel reading, social
calling, butterfly parties, or playing rag-time
music or singing rag-time songs.
The home and the public school are the two
great agencies which are jointly engaged, or which
should be jointly engaged, in teaching children to
SELF-HELP.
177
help themselves. If children are taught, as boys
and girls, to think for themselves, speak for them¬
selves and act for themselves, when they are old
they will not forget the precious lesson, and will
be less likely to become burdens on the com¬
munity. The highest ambition of every American
man and woman should be to be of some useful
service to the world; and the first step will be
taken toward this noble end when we have thor¬
oughly learned the value and importance of the
lesson of self-help. First, learn to help yourself,
and then you will be able to see more clearly how
to help others.
XL VII.
HENRY WARD BEECHER'S TESTIMONY.
First impressions are always most lasting. We
may not recognize or understand it at the time,
but the boys and girls, the very young people,
whom God has committed to our care in the home
or the Sunday-school or the public school, gather
in their early days, in the formative and impres¬
sionable period of their lives, the inspirations and
impulses which shall guide them in after years
either on the road to good or on the road to ruin.
X happen to have high testimony on this point. It
is the testimony of the grandest preacher who ever
stood in an American pulpit. I mean Henry
178
BEECHER'S TESTIMONY.
Ward Beeclier. The following testimony is taken
from a sermon of his preached in Plymouth
Church, Brooklyn, on Sunday, January 18, 1874.
The subject of the sermon was '' Soul Power."
Among other things, Mr. Becher said:
"In reading the life of Goethe, written by him¬
self, you will notice how he marks the various
stages of his self-culture, and says, 'At this point
I met such a man, and he was of great use to me in
such and such respects.' Goethe's educators were
living men, active and powerful, around about
him.
"I can look back upon my own early life, and
see how one and another took me, and how one pre¬
pared me for another. I can see how the largest
natures did not always get access to me. It was
late in life before my father influenced me very
much. I think it was a humble woman who was
in our family that first gained any considerable
control over me. I feel the effects of her influence
to this day.
"I next came under the influence of a very
humble serving-man. He opened up new direc¬
tions to me, and gave me new impulses. He was
a colored man; and I am not ashamed to say that
my whole life, my whole career respecting the col¬
ored race, in the conflict which was so long carried
on in this country, was largely influenced by the
effect produced on my mind when I was between
eight and ten years of age, by a poor old colored
man named Charles Smith, who worked on my
BEECHER'S TESTIMONY.
179
father's farm. He did not set out to influence
me; lie did not know that he did it; I did not know
it until a great while afterwards; but he gave me
new impulses, and impulses which were in the
right direction; for he was a Godly and hymn-
singing man, who made wine fresh every night
from the cluster. He used to lie upon his humble
bed (I slept in the same room with him) and read
his Testament, unconscious apparently that I was
in the room; and he would laugh and talk about
what he read, and chuckle over it with that pecu¬
liarly unctuous throat-tone which belongs to his
race. I never had heard the Bible really read
before; but there, in my presence, he read it and
talked about it, to himself and to God. He turned
the New Testament into living forms right before
me. It was a revelation and an impulse to me."
What noble testimony this is! And from what
a noble source! All of us have what is called influ¬
ence, and, consciously or unconsciously, we are all
influencing others, especially the young. It is a
matter worth our deepest and most prayerful
thought. If Charles Smith, "a poor old colored
man;" if Charles Smith, "the very humble serv¬
ing-man;" if Charles Smith, "the Godly and
hymn-singing man," was used of God to give im¬
pulses—and impulses which were in the right
direction—to a little boy who was afterwards to
become the greatest preacher that America has
ever known, may not some of us be likewise used
of God for the glory of our Common Master, even
180
BEECHER'S TESTIMONY.
Christ, and for the good of our fellow-men 1 I tell
you, friends, we may. And when we think of the
great friend of humanity, Henry Ward Beecher,
let us not forget to think of Charles Smith, who
had so much to do, according to Beecher's own tes¬
timony, with giving this great man a right start.
XLYin.
BOUNDING UP A CHICKEN THIEF.
I was not the chief actor in the story which I
shall now tell. I played only a minor part. My
father-in-law was "leading man.?' Soon after I
married I accepted a very cordial invitation to
take up my residence with my wife's parents. Our
bed-rooms happened to be on the same floor, so
that it was very easy for us to hear in one room
any unusual noise made in the other. My mother-
in-law was a great hand at the poultry business.
She had a large number of the choicest breeds,
and she found great pleasure in looking after
them. Now, the old-folk's bed-room was at the
rear. Our room was in front. Late one night I
heard a voice calling.
"Thomas! Thomas!"
It sounded sad and far-away. At first I thought
it might have been a ghost. I raised myself up and
listened. Pretty soon I heard the voice again,
calling in strangely sepulchural tones.
ROUNDING UP A CHICKEN THIEF. 181
"Thomas! Thomas!"
And then I could not be mistaken. It was my
mother calling the old man. Father drawled out
sleepily,
"What is it?"
"There's somebody out there at my hen house,
just as sure as you're born. Don't you hear the
chickens calling for help?"
There was a short silence. After awhile I heard
the old lady say impetuously,
"Thomas,-why don't you get up and go and see
after them chickens ?''
There was another pause. By-and-by mother
spoke again,
"Thomas, you don't need on your top-shirt. Go
on, just as you are. My chickens are in danger.
If I were a man, I wouldn't have stopped to put on
my pants even. You're a coward—that's what
you are!"
Next I heard the old man speak. I do not know
whether he was looking out of the window or not,
but I heard his say,
"Hi, there, look out! I'm coming out there!
Look out, I'm going to blow your daylights out!"
If the old man meant this remark to impress his
wife with his bravery the effect was certainly lost
on the woman, because I heard her say louder than
ever,
"Get out of the way, you coward baby, you!
I'll go myself! Where's my slippers?"
In less than a minute I heard the old lady's
182 ROUNDING UP A CHICKEN THIEF.
voice at the back door, at the head of the steps
which ran down into the yard. She said,
"Bring the lamp, Thomas! Bring the lamp!"
"Son, its a Mighty Lucky Thing for You and Nannie
that I Didn't Have My Gun."
Curiosity pulled me and my wife out of bed.
I stepped quietly into the hall, and stood well in
the dark, not desiring to be in any way conspicu-
ROUNDING UP A CHICKEN THIEF. 183
ous in the investigations which were proceeding.
My wife was by; my side—trembling, anxious. Her
angelic mother had already descended the steps,
and neither of ns knew what fate might befall her
there. Wife whispered that we had better go to
the rescue. We started for the door where father
stood with the lamp. On the way I stumbled
against a little table and knocked off a pitcher of
ice-water, which fell to the floor with a terrific
crash. It sounded louder than usual, not only on
account of the stillness of the night but also on
account of the fact that our nerves were already
keyed up to a very high tension by the exciting
events then taking place. At the sound in the
hall, father turned quickly and looked behind.
The light flashed into our faces. He must have
thought we were ghosts or burglars. Immediately
the lamp fell out of the old man's hands, and he
went sailing down the back stairs, hallooing at the
top of his voice,
" They 're in the house, wife! They're in the
house!''
When wife and I reached the door father was
already, as I afterwards learned, safely buried
behind the chicken hou'se, and mother was lodged
under the steps.
1' Father!" I called out. '' Father!''
There was no response.
"It's me and Nannie, mother," I said.
Still we heard nothing.
I went back to our room, and got our lamp. My
184 ROUNDING UP A CHICKEN THIEF.
wife was following me, foot to foot. Returning, I
descended the steps and stood on the last one.
"Wife remained at the head of the steps, anxious,
waiting, and ready to fly back into the house at
the first outcry.
"Father!" I called again. 11 Father! Mother!
There's nobody in the house but me and Nannie.
I made that noise myself, father. Where are
you?"
Simultaneously the old folks emerged from their
hiding-places.
The old lady said,
"Thomas, you're the biggest coward in all the
world! I'll never speak to you again!"
Father addressed me, ignoring his wife's com¬
plaint. Said he,
"Son, it's a mighty lucky thing for you and
Nannie that I didn't have my gun."
XLIX.
SHIELDS GREEN, THE MARTYR.
Near the south-east corner of the cemetery in
Oberlin, Ohio, there stands an unpretentious
monument of clouded marble, about eight feet in
height, bearing the following inscriptions:
S. GREEN,
Died at Charlestown, Va., Dec. 2, 1859.
Aged 23 years.
SHIELDS GREEN, THE MARTYR. 185
J. A. COPELAND,
Died at Charlestown, Va., Dec. 2, 1859.
Aged 25 years.
L. S. LEARY,
Died at Harper's Ferry, Va., Oct. 20, 1859.
Aged 24 years.
These colored citizens of Oberlin,
The Heroic Associates of the Immortal
JOHN BROWN,
Gave their lives for the Slave.
Et nunc servitudo etiam mortna est, lans Deo.
In 1876r Frederick Douglass, who was once an
associate and intimate friend of John Brown, lec¬
tured at Oberlin College. Among other things,
Mr. Douglass said that Shields Green, who had
once been a student of Oberlin College, was resid¬
ing in the Douglass family shortly before the raid
on Harper's Ferry. At the call of Brown, Green
went with Douglass to an appointed spot near the
borders of Virginia. There John Brown confided
to them the details of his plans, including the cap¬
ture of Harper's Ferry. Mr. Douglass objected to
the plans as unwise and hazardous, and, finding
entreaty unavailing, he withdrew from the enter¬
prise. Shields Green, nevertheless, followed his
old commander. When John Brown was finally
surrounded, Green and one other companion were
in the mountains on some errand. When they re¬
turned, they saw at a glance that the rescue of
Brown was impossible. Green's companion coun-
186 SHIELDS GREEN, THE MARTYR.
seled flight, and did himself escape, but Shields
Green—the former Oberlin student—replied that
he preferred to 11 go down and die with the old
man," meaning John Brown.
And he did.
There is scarcely a more touching incident than
this in all our national history.
% L.
AIMING AT SOMETHING.
It is true, boys and girls, that it is what you hit,
not what you aim at, that counts; but, neverthe¬
less, it is a very important thing to take the right
aim. The man who aims deliberately at the center
of the target stands a better chance, a hundred to
one, than the man who shoots without taking aim.
So, in life, that boy or girl who has a purpose—
who is aiming at something—will be more success¬
ful than those boys and girls who have no plans
and who'aim at nothing.
It is not sufficient, in the moral world, to aim at
something, but every boy and girl should aim at
the best things. The best and highest things in this
world are the unseen things, the eternal things,
the things that will last forever. Money is a good
thing, but there is something higher than money.
A high position in the business or professional or
political world, is a good thing, but there is some-
AIMING AT SOMETHING.
187
thing higher and better than office and position.
Character is the grandest, the highest and best
thing in this world. We include in this one little
"word "character" a world of things. Honor, up¬
rightness, speak¬
ing the truth, deal¬
ing fairly; with people, be¬
ing willing to help the
lowly and unfortunate,
paying your debts prompt¬
ly, these things, and many
other things like them, are
included in the one word
"character." And these
are the things that are
worth while in this world.
These are the things that
every boy and girl should aim at. It may not
be possible for every boy and girl to become
a millionaire; it may not be possible for every
boy and girl to fill high offices in this world, or
Aiming at Something.
188 AIMING AT SOMETHING.
succeed in large business enterprises; but one
thing is certain: every boy can be a good and true
boy, every girl can be a noble and beautiful girl.
Beautiful as to conduct, as to words and deeds, I
mean. Good boys are the fathers of good men.
Pure girls are the mothers of pure women. For,
what, after all, is a boy? And what is a girl?
What is a man? What is a woman? I will tell
you. A boy is a little man—that's all;- and a man
is a grown-up boy. A girl is a little woman—
that's all; and a woman is a grown-up girl.
It is important, then, that boys and girls should
aim at the right things, the good, the true and
noble things early in life. What boys and girls
aim at, in nine cases out of ten, they will reach as
men and women. And to help you in taking the
proper aim early in life, I am going to give you
something to aim at. Let every boy and girl make
this little motto his rule of life:
Know something—know it well;
Do something—do' it well;—
And be Somebody!
LI.
"THE BLACK SHEEP" OF THE REYNOLDS
FAMILY.
Will Reynolds was "the black sheep" of the
Reynolds family. He knew it and felt it, because
he had been frequently slighted and treated with.
"THE BLACK SHEEP." 189
contempt by; his relatives. The only person who
never lost faith in him was his mother. She
always felt that there was something good in her
wayward son, and often said that it would show
itself some day. But Will's mother died in the
early stages of his backslidings. Will's father
married the second time, and the boy, finding it
impossible to get along with his stepmother, left
home. He went from bad to worse. Being
arrested on the charge of drunkenness and va¬
grancy, he sent to his two brothers, who were pros¬
perous brokers in D. St., asking them to pay his
fine. Word came back that they would not inter¬
fere in his behalf. His brothers sent word that he
had brought the trouble upon himself and he must
get out of it the best way he could. Will was sent
to the Work House for six months. And nobody's
hand was raised to help him.
While he was serving his time, his only sister, a
young woman not yet grown, died. He knew
nothing of it until about a month after it occurred,
and then he read the account in an old newspaper
which he had borrowed from a fellow prisoner.
The news of his sister 's death deeply affected him.
His sentence was shortened by one month on ac¬
count of his good behaviour. The first thing he
did, on coming to the city, was to visit the family
lot in Myrtle Hill Cemetery. He carried with him
some wild flowers and green leaves, being too poor
to purchase a floral offering from the dealers in
such things. With uncovered head, he knelt and
190 "THE BLACK SHEEP."
placed these tokens of respect on the graves of his
mother and sister. This done, he stood in silence
for a moment, and then wept like a little child.
While riveted to the spot, he made a solemn vow
64He Carried with Him Some Wild Flowers
and Green Leaves."
that he would qnit the old life and make a man of
himself. "It's in me," he said to himself, "and
I'm going to prove it."
"THE BLACK SHEEP." 191
Slowly lie turned away from the sacred place.
He went directly to the offices of his brothers. He
had been furnished with a new suit of clothes,
according to custom, upon leaving prison, and so
made quite a decent appearance. He found, his
oldest brother, John B. Eeynolds, seated at a desk
in the front office. He entered at once and said,—
"Well, John, I suppose sister is dead?"
"How dare you," exclaimed John, rising to his
feet,—"how dare you to speak of Annie as your
sister, you jailbird, you miserable convict! Get
out of here this minute! Leave this room at once,
and never set foot in it again!''
There was fire in the man's eye as he spoke.
Will attempted to speak, but was not permitted.
With tears streaming down his cheeks, he left the
room. He had gone to tell of his new determina¬
tion and ask for another chance, and this was the
reception which he met. On his way down the
steps, he came face to face with his other brother, -
iThomas Eeynolds. Thomas tried to pass without -
speaking, but Will intercepted him.
"Tom," he said, "I'm your brother still. I'm
not asking help now; I only came to tell you that
I'm going to do better. I thought you would be
glad to hear it.''
"I want to hear nothing from you," said
Thomas. "You've disgraced us forever, and you
can go your way; we don't want anything to do
with you; we don't want to see you again!"
Will went forth into the street weeping.
# * * # #
192
"THE BLACK SHEEP."
Thirty years have come and gone since Will was
driven away from the offices of his brothers. What
changes have these years worked?
Soon after leaving prison Will was a constant
visitor at the Railroad Men's Branch of the Y. M.
C. A. Through the Secretary of the Association,
he soon secured a place as a day laborer in the
machine shops of the Big Bend Railroad. After
securing regular employment, he went to live in
the Y. M. C. A. building. At the close of his first
year's service with the railroad, he was promoted
from a common laborer and made an apprentice.
After four or five years, he had learned the trade
and was receiving the daily wages of a machinist.
After twelve years with the company, he was
made the Master. Machinist. At the end of fifteen
years' service, he was made Superintendent of
Construction. Five years later he was made a
Division Superintendent. At the expiration of
more than twenty-five years of faithful service,
Will Reynolds was able to write after his name,
1 'General Manager of the Big Bend Railroad."
He had, also, been married for several years, and
was the father of five children.
Will's father and brothers lost sight of him for
nearly twelve years, or until the papers announced
his appointment as Master Machinist of the Big
Bend Railroad. They suddenly awoke to find that
their conclusions that he had probably long since
died a drunkard's death, or had gone off as a
"THE BLACK SHEEP."
193
tramp and had been killed, or was again serving
a sentence in prison somewhere—were wrong.
The same week that Will was made Superin¬
tendent of Construction of the Big Bend Railroad,
the newspapers spread all over the country the
news that Col. Oliver P. Reynolds had committed
suicide. According to their way, the newspapers
gave all the sickening details of the tragedy, to¬
gether with the whole family history. They said
that Col. Reynolds had been driven to suicide by
his wife. They said that she was much younger
than he; that she was extravagant; that she was a
leader in gay society; they told how, on her
account, Col. Reynolds had driven his son away
from home fifteen years before; they declared that
the old man's life had been a hell to him; and that
his wife had brought him almost to the verge of
bankruptcy, and, in order to escape facing open
disgrace, he had murdered himself.
When Will heard of his father's death, he hast¬
ened at once to the city, but was denied admission
to the family residence, and had to attend the
funeral in the little church around the corner not
as a member of the family but merely as an out¬
sider.
We are not concerned in this story with the fate
of Will's stepmother. But, as to Will's brothers,
—well, the crash came eight or ten years after the
death of Col. Reynolds, or a short while before
Will became the General Manager of the JBig Bend
Railroad. John B. Reynolds and Thomas Reyn-
194 "THE BLACK SHEEP."
olds, members of the firm of John B. Reynolds &
Bro., had been arrested and placed in the Tombs,
charged with misappropriating $175,000 of trust
"Well, John, I Suppose Sisteb is Dead? "
funds. Again the family history was rehearsed
in the newspapers. The papers did not fail to
recall the suicide of Col. Reynolds, nor did they
"THE BLACK SHEEP." 195
fail to tell how these two brothers had earlier in
life turned their backs on a younger brother.
"Will read the papers, and, saying to his wife,
'4Well, Mary, perhaps they'll be glad to see me
this trip," he went immediately to offer his serv¬
ices to his brothers.
He had prophesied correctly. John and Thomas
were very glad to see him. They had no friends
among those high in financial circles because they
had for many years conducted their business in
such a way that business men had no confidence in
them. They had no credit and could get nobody
to go on their bonds. Will took in the situation at
a glance. He had been thoughtful enough to
bring along with him the leading attorney of the
Big Bend Railroad, and he put matters straight¬
way into his hands. Bail was arranged, the
brothers were released, and the lawyer then
turned his attention to the prosecutors. It was
discovered that almost half of the amount stolen
was the property of Simon B. Nesmith, Presi¬
dent of the Big Bend Railroad. When Will
Reynolds and the lawyer found that their own
superior officer had been so heavily hit by John
B. Reynolds & Bro., they came near fainting. For¬
tunately Nesmith when he heard the whole story
agreed not to prosecute, and not only said that he
would be satisfied with any settlement that the
Railroad's Attorney might arrange but also volun¬
teered to see the others concerned and use his influ¬
ence in having them do likewise.
196 "THE BLACK SHEEP."
In a short time matters were adjusted, and John
Reynolds and Thomas Reynolds were saved from
prison. But they lost all their earthly possessions
and their brother, "the black sheep" of the
family, had to secure them for the sum of $40,000
besides.
John B. Reynolds and Thomas Reynolds came
to their senses. It was their time to cry now.
Amidst great sobs they said,
"We treated you wrongly, brother Will; we
ought to have helped you many years ago; we are
so sorry we didn't; and it was such a small mat¬
ter, too."
But Will said,
"Don't talk about the past: I'm your brother
still. Go and do as I did. Start over and make
men of yourselves—you'll have enough time.
That's all I ask."
LH.
THE HOLY BIBLE.
I heard a minister say the other day that a
mother had not necessarily done much for her boy
because she had bought him a nice Bible and put
it in his trunk, when he was about to leave home
to seek his fortune in the world. I think it wrong
for-anybody—minister or what not—to indulge in
such loose and flippant talk. The effect is bad—
THE HOLY BIBLE.
197
always bad, and no hair splitting, and no higher
criticism, and no curiously ingenius explana¬
tions can mend the matter. As for me, give me the
old-fashioned mother who sends her son out into
the world with a Bible in his trunk, and give me
the old-fashioned boy who reads that Bible every
night with tears in his eyes, as he thinks of the old
folks at home and of their simple lives devoted to
Jesus Christ. Giveme the man, woman or child,
whose hands touch the Bible reverently, instead of
slinging it about as a dictionary or some common
dime novel. Give me the plain old fellow who
quickly takes leave of that circle in which critics
are proceeding to ably explain away certain chap¬
ters of the Bible.
As for me, I want no new theories about the
Bible—no new versions—no new criticisms. No
man has a right to weaken the faith of others.
No man has a right to knock away the" staff that
supports the crippled wayfarer. And no man has
a right to tell an aged mother that it does no good
to give Jier boy a Bible unless he can suggest a
better substitute. Destroy the old-fashioned idea
concerning the Bible, and we shall have a nation
of infidels defying God, defying the law, and
repeating the licentiousness and horrors of the
French Revolution. "We should make the Bible
first in all things. Make the Bible first in the
family, in the Sunday-school and church, make it
first in state and society, and we shall have a
Republic that will grow brighter and brighter as
198
THE HOLY BIBLE.
the years come and go, and then we '' shall go out
with joy, and be lead forth with peace: and the
mountains and the hills shall break forth before
us into singing, and all the trees of the field shall
clap their hands."
Lin.
ANDREW CARNEGIE'S ADVICE TO YOUNG
MEN.
One of the bravest and truest friends of
humanity that I know of is Andrew Carnegie, the
great iron king. He has retired from business
now, and is spending his time in giving away his
money for the good of his fellow men. In addition
to smaller gifts, he has given to the city of New
York $5,200,000 for libraries for all the people.
He has given $10,000,000 to Universities in Scot¬
land, his native country, and he has also founded
the "Carnegie Institution," of "Washington, D. C.,
with the liberal sum of $10,000,000. Every
colored boy and girl in America has a special rea¬
son for thanking Mr. Carnegie for his splendid
gifts to Tuskegee and Wilberforce and other col¬
ored schools. In addition to the $600,000 given
toward Tuskegee's endowment fund, he has given
Tuskegee and Wilberforce library buildings, cost¬
ing about $20,000 each. The words of such a
humanitarian and philanthropist should carry
weight everywhere, and should be studied by all.
ANDREW CARNEGIE'S ADVICE. 199
Among other things, Mr. Carnegie says, in speak¬
ing to young men:
"Do not make riches, but usefulness, your first
aim, and let your chief pride be that your daily
occupation is in the line of progress and develop¬
ment; that your work, in whatever capacity it
may be, is useful work, honestly conducted, and as
such ennobles your life.
Whatever your salary be, save a little; live
within your means. The man who saves a little
from his income has given the surest indication of
the very qualities that every employer is seeking
for.
"The great successes of life are made by con¬
centration. Do not think you have done your full
duty when you have performed the work assigned
you. You will never rise if you only do this.
"You hear a good deal about poverty nowadays,
and the cry goes up to abolish poverty, but it will
be the saddest day of civilization when poverty is
no longer with us. It is from the soil of poverty
that all the virtues spring. Without poverty,
where will your inventor, your artist, your philan¬
thropist come from?
"There are three classes of young men in the
world. One starts out to be a millionaire. Another
seeks reputation, perhaps at the cannon's mouth..
A third young man, who will be successful, is he
who starts out in life with self-respect and who is
true to himself and his fellow-men. He cannot fail
to win."
200 DIRECTIONS FOR LITTLE GENTLEMEN.
liv.
DIRECTIONS FOR LITTLE GENTLEMEN.
1. The essential part of good breeding is the
practical desire to afford pleasure and to avoid
giving pain. Any boy possessing this desire re¬
quires only opportunity and observation to become
a little gentleman/
2. Never be guilty of what are- called practical
jokesj that is to say, never place a pin in a chair so
that somebody may come along and sit on the
pin's point; never pull back a chair when a per¬
son is about to sit down, and in that way cause
such a person to fall on the floor. No little gentle¬
man will play such tricks.
3. Whenever a lady enters a room, it is proper
for boys to rise, if they are seated, but you must
never offer a lady a chair from which you have
just risen, if there is another chair in the room.
4. Never engage in conversation while a person
is singing. It is an insult not only to the singer
but to the company.
5. Always take off your hat when assisting a
lady to or from a carriage.
6. If in a public place, you pass and re-pass
persons of your acquaintance, it is only necessary
to salute them on the first occasion.
7. Do not wear anything that is so conspicuous
DIRECTIONS FOR LITTLE GENTLEMEN. 201
202 DIRECTIONS FOR LITTLE GENTLEMEN.
as to attract attention; and, particularly, avoid
the ruffian style.
8. Do not lose your temper. Particularly if
you. are playing innocent games for amusement
and happen to lose; avoid the exhibition of
anxiety or vexation at lack of success.
9. In all your associations, keep constantly in
view the old adage, "too much familiarity breeds
contempt.'' •
LV.
THE LETTER OF THE LAW.
It was a bright and balmy afternoon in spring.
Mrs. Anderson, in keeping with the practice of
neighborly kindness which was in vogue in the
Berkshire village, had sent a large plate of ice¬
cream across the street to Mrs. Van Ingen's. The
cream .was quite toothsome, and little Annie Van
Ingen, "six years old, going on seven/' felt when
the plate had been emptied that she would like to
have some more.
With tears in her eyes she confided her wish to
her mother. The maternal explanation, "My-
darling, mama didn't make any cream to-day,"
failed to satisfy Annie.
, "Well, where did you, get that we had?" she
asked.
"Mrs. Anderson was kind enough to send it to
us," answered the patient mother.
THE LETTER OF THE LAW. 203
"I'm going over, there and ask her for some
more," abruptly interposed little Annie.
"No, no, no, my precious;" said Mrs. Vanlngen,
"you mustn't think of doing such a thing. Mama
doesn't want the neighbors to know that her little
Annie is a beggar."
For reply Annie's tears flowed fast and faster.
204 THE LETTEK OF THE LAW.
Finally, seeing that nothing else would avail, to
pacify Annie, Mrs. Van Ingen said,
"I'll tell yon what to do, dearie; you go over to
Mrs. Anderson's and tell her that you've come to
play awhile with her little girl. Now, be careful,
don't ask her for dny cream, but I'm sure she'll
offer you some before you come back."
The crying stopped immediately, and pretty
soon Annie went tripping across the street to play
with Mrs. Anderson's little girl.
Mrs. Anderson met her at the-door and kissed
her affectionately.
"I wanted some more cream," volunteered lit¬
tle Annie; "the cream you sent mama was very
nice, and I wanted some more. Mama told me not
to ask you for any more, but she said that if I
would come over here and play with Bessie you
would give me some more before I went back
home. So, I have come over to play with Bessie.''
And, having relieved her mind of its burden,
little Annie, with perfect delight and joyous inno¬
cence, ran hastily up the stairs to the nursery in
search of Bessie.
LVI.
THE BEST BOOKS FOE CHILDREN.
According to some of the most thoughtful
people who have lived in this world, a good way to
deal with children in regard to the books that they
THE BEST BOOKS FOR QHILDREN. 205
are to read is to give them the freedom of a library
which contains a few thousand of the best books
in the world, and let them browse at will. This
was originally, I think, Charles Lamb's idea.
Charles Lamb was a lovable man who wrote read¬
able books for children. But this statement of
Lamb implies, of course, the possession of a good
library. Unfortunately many of my readers will
The Best Books for Children.
not be found among those who live in homes which
are well-stocked with books. That is one reason
why it seems wise to make one or two suggestions
as to the best books for children to read. If you
cannot have all of the best books in the world, it
is important that you should have at least a few of
the best books in the world; and I shall name a
few which I believe every boy and girl in America
ought to know something about.
For children betwen the ages of six and twelve,
206 THE BEST BOOKS FOR CHILDREN.
I should put at the head of my list Daniel Defoe's
"Robinson Crusoe," a good edition of the "Ara¬
bian Nights," and Hans Andersen's fairy tales.
In addition to these I would get Hawthorne's
"Wonder Book," Andrew Lang's "Fairy Book"
and some book full of absurd fun like Lear's
i'Nonsense Book" or "Alice in Wonderland." We
must not forget Joel Chandler Harris's "Uncle
Remus,'' for it ought to have a place in every col¬
lection of children's best books. Kipling's
"Jungle Book" is good, and so is Bunyan's "Pil¬
grim's Progress." "Tom Brown at Rugby,"
Lamb's Shakespeare Tales, and Ruskin's "King
of the Golden River" must not be overlooked.
John Burrough's "Birds and Beasts" might as
well end the list, since I haven't room to give all
the best books for children.
But whatever else you do, boys and girls, if you
wish to widen your spiritual horizons, do not close
the windows on the emotional and imaginative
side by neglecting poetry. Somebody has said
that'' There is in every one of us a poet whom the
man has outlived." "Verse and Prose for Begin¬
ners" by Horace E. Scudder is a delightful book
to have, and another book of poems called the
"Children's Garland."
The best books for a child are the books that
widen his world. A man or woman in middle life
or old age who loves poetry and great pictures and
statues, who is familiar with Shakespeare, who
has a sense of humor and a love of nature, knows
THE BEST BOOKS FOR CHILDREN.
207
a deal about the joy of living and is full of re¬
sources. No one can ever have these resources and
that joy who has not had them from early child¬
hood.
Lvn.
THE EIGHT TO PLAY.
The right to play is one of the divine rights of
men and women, of boys and girls, and is just as
essential to the peace, happiness and prosperity
of the world as is the right to pray. Never be
afraid or ashamed, my young friends, of honest,
vigorous, healthy play. Dominoes, lawn tennis,
baseball, football, ping-pong, golf, foot-racing,
leaping and jumping, boxing and wrestling, pole-
vaulting, .punching the bag, swinging dumb-bells
or Indian clubs, and a hundred other things are
perfectly sane and wholesome' amusements for old
or young. To refrain from all forms of amuse¬
ments is just as destructive of happiness and in¬
jurious to character as is the other extreme of
indulging too freely in pleasures and pastimes.
Puritan austerity and unrestrained excess are
alike to be condemned. But a certain amount of
play—play of the right kind and within proper
limits—is a divine right of young people. Young
people must have fun and relaxation, and, if they
do not find it in their own homes, it will be sought
in other and perhaps dangerous places.
208
THE RIGHT TO PLAY.
For myself, I believe that anybody is an enemy
to young people who desires to repress and crush,
out the naturally "buoyant spirits of childhood and
youth, and he is a benefactor of humanity who
makes it a part of his business to see that proper
places of amusement are provided: for the young
people. Aside from the physical advantages of
play, there are moral advantages also*. A man
who helps to keep his body in good condition by
regular exercise is, in that way, beyond a doubt,
adding to the number of his days; that is to say,
he will live longer than the man who doesn't play.
But beyond and above that, he is a happier man
while he lives; he gets more joy and satisfaction
out of life than the other fellow. Sane and healthy
play tends to blot out the remembrance of cares
and hardship.; it gives our minds something else
to think about. But young people must be care¬
ful not to become absorbed in these things. I be¬
lieve in play; I believe in pleasure, in fun. But
when I see young people, or old people for that
matter, devoting all their time to wheeling, foot¬
balling, card parties, the giddy whirl of the dance,
the bacchanalian hilarity of the dram shop, and so
on, I am forced to say that things which may be
right when taken in moderation, and as a relief
from the overtaxing burdens of life, are wrong
when they become the chief object for which one
lives.
A CHRISTMAS PRESENT. 200
Lvnx
A CHRISTMAS PRESENT.
A forsaken little kitten wandered up and down
the street on the day before Christmas. It had no
home; it had no name; it had no ribbon around its
neck; and it had no saucer of nice milk in one cor¬
ner.
It began to grow dark, and colder too, and the
stars came peeping out, and the first flakes of a
real Christmas snowstorm began floating down
through the air. The kitten mewed a trembling
little mew, which told as plainly as it could that it
was very hungry, and it fluffed out its fur to keep
itself warm.
Now, somewhere along that street, up on top of
a house (hiding behind a chimney where he
couldn't be seen), was Santa Claus, getting every¬
thing in shape before starting on his evening
round. "When old Santa saw that lonesome little
kitten strolling around he smiled—yes, old Santa
Claus smiled. He smiled because he knew that two
blocks up the street a little girl was standing with
her nose pressed against the window, looking out
into the deepening night.
He had seen her as he went by. And he had also
seen the poor little supper laid out for two on the
table, and heard her say to her mother, in a quav¬
ering voice:
210 A CHRISTMAS PRESENT.
"Not even one present, mamma—not the teen¬
iest little one!"
"No, Susie," her mother had answered, "I'm
sorry I couldn't get anything for my little girl this
year, but—yon know there wasn't any money
dear.'' And there was a
tremble in her mother's
voice too.
Susie wiped away the
tears, and turned to
look out of the window.
"Perhaps," she said
to herself; "perhaps
Santa Claus has some¬
thing for me after all!''
Now, the sad, really
dreadful part about it
was that Santa Claus
didn't have one single
thing for Susie in his
pack. Perhaps it was
because she had moved
"Mamma, I Hear Ola Santa's
Bells and of Course this is
the Present He Brought."
into that house since last Christmas, or perhaps for
once old Santa had made a mistake. Anyway he
was just saying to himself: "Why, bless me,
what shall I do about it?" when he caught sight
of that shivering little kitten.
''The very thing,'' he thought. "I'll give them
to each other!" and he chuckled till his reindeer
looked around to see what was the matter.
And what happened nest? Well, that kitten
A CHRISTMAS PRESENT. 211
never knew really. It only seemed as if there was
a sudden rush and jingle of bells, which fright¬
ened it so that it flew np the street as fast as its
four little legs could carry it, until it saw a small
friendly face at a window, and rushed up some
steps nearby. Then a door opened, and two soft
little arms picked it up gently from the cold snow
and a voice cried:
"Oh, mamma, see the poor little kitten—it's so
cold—oh, we'll keep it, won't we, mamma! The
poor little thing. Do you think it would drink
milk ?''
Would it drink milk? What a question to ask
about a little kitten. While the little kitten was
nearly choking itself trying to drink a saucerful
of milk and purr at the same time there was a
jingle of bells outside, and Susie said:
"Mamma, I hear old Santa's bells, and, of
course, this is the present he brought."
LIX.
DRINKING AND SMOKING.
There is food for reflection in a saying of some^-
body who lived a great many years ago, 'way back
in 1878. Here it is: .
"Our government land costs one dollar and
twenty-five cents an acre, and good whiskey two
dollars a bottle. How many men die landless who
212 DRINKING AND SMOKING.
during their lives have swallowed whole town¬
ships—trees and all?"
Alongside of this statement might go this other
one, which is equally true:
"The young man who smokes three five-cent
cigars a day—and many young men use double
the quantity at double the price—puffs away
enough money in the course of ten years to give
anyone a handsome start in business, or to provide
anyone a comfortable home.''
From a purely business standpoint, not to say
anything about religion or morals—from a purely
business standpoint young people drink too much
and smoke too much. Every five cents spent for
beer is five cents thrown away. Every ten cents
spent for whiskey is a total loss. It would bring
far better returns if it were put into a savings
DRINKING AND SMOKING-. 213
bank and laid away for a rainy day. As for smok¬
ing, it is a silly, senseless, expensive habit. It lit¬
erally burns money up. The following figures show
the expense of smoking two cigars a day at five
cents each from the age of twenty to the end of
each period of five years up to the age of seventy,
6 per cent compound interest semi-annually being
reckoned upon the money:
Two Cigars a Day at
No. 5 Cents each.
From the age of: Years. Principal. Prin. & Int.
20 to 25 years 5 $ 182.50 $ 209.21
20 to 30 " 10 365.00 490.39
20 to 35 4 4 15 574.50 868.25
20 to 40 " 20 730.00 1,376.07
20 to 45 4 4 , 25 912.50 2,058.44
20 to 50 " 30 1,095.00 3,094.99
20 to 55 " 35 1,277.50 4,367.46
20 to 60 " ....... 40 1,460.00 6,078.73
20 to ,65 " 45 1,642.50 8,378.52
20 to 70 4 4 50 1,825.00 11,469.25
Boys, I am glad to be able to put these figures
down where you can see them, and study them for
yourselves. I want you to reflect upon them. It
is not what you make, but it is what you save that
makes you rich. If you ever expect to be even
well-to-do men, not to speak of being rich men,
you must begin early to learn and practice the
habit of saving your money. If you will learn to
leave out of your expenses the bills for whiskey
and tobacco it will not be hard for you to see then
how you can also save by cutting down your ex-
214 DRINKING AND SMOKING.
penses for trifles, such as knickknacks, candy, red
lemonade, peanuts, etc. First in importance among
public institutions, next to the church and the
school house, I place the savings "bank. No mat¬
ter what your occupation, no matter what your
salary, it is possible for every young person to
save something out of his earnings, however small
they may be. But if this habit of saving is not ac¬
quired in early life it will be very hard to learn it
later. Saving is not the miser's habit necessarily,
nor is it the spirit of avarice and parsimony. It is
prudence and forethought. Money is a good thing.
It is the love of money—not money—that is the
root of all evil.
LX.
THE NICKEL THAT BURNED IN FRANK'S
POCKET.
Deacon Hepworth kept a little fish market.
"Do you want a boy to help you?" asked Frank
Shaw one day.
"Can you give good weight to my customers •
and take good care of my pennies 1''
"Yes, sir," answered Frank.
Forthwith he took his place in the little store,
weighed the fish and kept the room in order.
"A whole day for fun, fireworks and noise to¬
morrow!" exclaimed Frank, as he buttoned his
THE NICKEL THAT BURNED. 215
white apron about him the day before the Fourth
of July. A great trout was thrown down on the
counter by Ned Tant, one of Frank's playmates.
"Here's a royal trout, Frank. I caught it my¬
self. You may have it for ten cents. Just hand
over the money, for I'min a hurry to buy my fire¬
crackers," said Ned hurriedly.
216 THE NICKEL THAT BURNED.
The deacon was out, but Frank had made pur¬
chases for him before, so the dime spun across to
Ned, who was off like a shot. Just then Mrs. Sin¬
clair appeared.
"I want a nice trout for my dinner tomorrow.
This one will do; how much is it?" she asked as
she carefully examined it.
"A quarter, ma'am," and the fish was trans¬
ferred to the lady's basket and the silver piece
to the money drawer.
But here Frank paused.
He thought to himself: "Ten cents was very
cheap for that fish. If I tell the deacon it cost
fifteen cents he'll be satisfied, and I shall have five
cents to invest in firecrackers."
The deacon was pleased with Frank's bargain,
and when the market was closed each went his
way for the night.
But the nickel buried in Frank's pocket burned
like a coal. He could eat no supper, and was cross
and unhappy. At last he could stand it no longer,
but, walking rapidly, tapped at the door of Dea¬
con Hepworth's cottage.
The old man was seated at a table, reading the
Bible. Frank's heart almost failed him, but he
told the story and with tears of sorrow laid the
coin in the deacon's hand.
Turning over the leaves of the Bible, the old
man read:
"He that covereth his sins shall, not prosper,
THE NICKEL THAT BURNED. 217
but whoso confessetli and forsakefh them shall
have mercy."
"Yon have forgiveness, Frank," he said. "Now
go home and confess to the Lord, and remember
you must forsake as well as confess. Here, you
may keep this coin as long as you live to remind
you of your first temptation."
LXI.
In the city of Colum¬
bus, Georgia, there was
erected in the year 1904
a monument to the
memory of a colored
man named Bragg
Smith. Mr. Smith lost
his life in the autumn
of 1903 in an effort to
save the life of the city
engineer of Columbus,
who had been buried
under an excavation in
the street. A large
crowd of colored men
218 MONUMENT TO A BLACK MAN.
was at work, digging deep trenches in whicli were
to be placed pipes for running water about the city.
In some way the sides of the narrow trench had
not been properly supported by planks or other¬
wise, and by-and-by a great stretch of dirt caved
in. Unfortunately the city engineer, a white man,
was caught underneath the falling dirt. Bragg
Smith did not stop to say: "Oh, it's a white man;
let him die!" but at once jumped down into the
ditch and tried to pull the white man from under
the heavy dirt. It was while he was engaged in
this work that the dirt fell from both sides a sec¬
ond time, and Bragg Smith, in his effort to save
the life of the white man, lost his own life. The
Bible says: ' * Greater love hath no man than this,
that a man will lay down his life for a friend.''
The city council at its first regular meeting after
the accident voted to erect a suitable monument
to the memory of Mr. Smith. The monument was
dedicated in April, 1904. The monument is of Ver¬
mont and Georgia marbles, and bears on one side
this inscription:
"Erected by the City of Columbus to mark the
last resting place of Bragg Smith, who died on
September 30, 1903, in the heroic but fruitless
effort to save the life of the city engineer."
On the other side appears this quotation from
Alexander Pope:
"Honor and fame from no conditions rise;
Act well your part; there all the honor lies."
THE BAD BOY-WHO HE IS. 219
LXH.
THE BAD BOY-WHO HE IS.
My dear children, I am happy to say that all
"boys who are called bad boys are not bad boys.
There is quite a difference between a bad boy
and a merely mischievous boy. A boy is not nec¬
essarily bad because he makes unearthly noises
about the house, or now and then twists the cat's
tail just to hear her mew, or 'muddies his clothes
in an effort to catch crawfish. He is not bad just
because he likes to "play fantastic" on the fourth
day of July. So many people complain of their
boys being bad when they are only mischievous—
that is to say, when they are only full of life. Some
people think that a good boy is one that has a pale
face and looks sickly; one that wears a sanctimon¬
ious look and moves along through the world as
though he were afraid to put one foot in front of
the other. That isn't my kind of a boy. I do not
think that kind of a fellow is a boy at all—he is
'most a girl! A boy who never enjoys a romp in
the woods, who never climbs the apple tree before
or after the apples are ripe, who never plays ball,
who will not shoot marbles, etc.—this sort of a
boy usually dies young, or he grows up to be a
"male woman." I mean by that, that he grows
up to be a man who acts like a woman; and that
kind of man is hardly fit for anything.
220 THE BAD BOY--WHO HE IS.
But there are some bad boys, I am sorry to say
—really bad boys, bad in lieart and in deed. I
have seen some on the chain gangs; I have seen
some hanging around the street corners—especial¬
ly on Sundays, with no clean clothes on; I have
seen them smoking cigarettes—and a cigarette is
something which no manly boy will use; I have
seen them in saloons, drinking, playing pool and
THE BAD BOY-WHO HE IS. 221
playing cards; I have sometimes seen them shoot¬
ing dice in the street for money. There are prob¬
ably one thousand boys in the jails, reformatories
and in the penitentiaries in the single state of
Georgia. To form anything like an adequate esti¬
mate of the total number of bad boys in the South
we must add to the above number the boys im¬
prisoned in the other states; and, also, that much
larger number who have never been imprisoned
because they happen never to have been arrested,
or who have been arrested and have had their
fines paid in money; and, finally, we must add
those who have already served their time and are
again at large. So, you see, there are inany
thousands and thousands of bad boys in the world,
and they are very easily found. Are you a bad
boy or a good boy? Isn't it better to be a good
boy than to be a bad boy ?
Lxm.
THE BAD BOY-HOW TO HELP HIM.
Almost anybody can make something out of a
boy who is naturally good, but it takes one of very
Christlike power and patience to make anything
out of a really ,bad boy. Yet all boys may be re¬
claimed, reformed, saved; at least so I believe.
And the first step in making a good man out of a
bad boy has to do with the boy's body. The Holy
222 THE BAD BOY-HOW TO HELP HIM.
Bible tells us that our bodies are
the temples—the dwelling places—
of the Holy Ghost, and every boy,
and every teacher of every boy, in
the home or day school or Sunday
school, should give more time and
The Bad Boy
attention to the body in
order to make it a fit place
for such a holy being. It
is as true now as of old
that plenty of soap and
water will exert a whole¬
some influence in making
bad boys good. Some one
has said that cleanliness
is next to godliness, and
somebody has added that
soap is a means of grace.
A boy who is taught to
bathe regularly and who is
taught to keep his clothing
neat and clean at all
times will in that way
THE BAD BOY-HOW TO HELP HIM. 223
learn tlie great lesson of self-respect quicker than
in any other way; and, in my judgment, the short¬
est way to the purification of a boy's habits, a
boy's morals, a boy's character, is to teach him
first to keep his body pure. Keep it pure not only
by baths and clean clothes, but keep it pure and
sweet by keeping it free from whiskey and to¬
bacco in every form. Exercise, regular and sys¬
tematic exercise, whether as work or play, will go
a great way towards keeping the body clean and
healthy. Every boy is mistaken, every parent is
mistaken, who thinks that labor is unworthy, or
that any kind of honest work is degrading. The
body needs to be kept alive and vigorous by the
frequent use of all its parts, and there is no better
way to keep the body vigorous than by doing some
kind of work—work that requires the use of the
hands and legs and muscles, work that stimulates
the blood and makes it flow freely through the
body.
Another step in the process of making a good
man out of a bad boy has to do with the mind. The
body grows not alone by exercise, but the body
grows by what we put into it: the food we eat and
the water we drink, etc. We might say, I think,
that the body grows on what it feeds on. It is the
same way with the mind: the mind grows on what
it feeds on. If we feed our minds on obscene pic¬
tures, on bad books, on vulgar stories, told by our¬
selves or our associates, we cannot expect to have
minds that are keenly alive and active for good.
224 THE BAD BOY-HOW TO HELP HIM.
Our thoughts control us, boys and girls, whether
we understand the process by which,they control
or not. Our thoughts control us. If our thoughts
are pure and sweet and noble, we will be pure and
sweet and noble. If our thoughts are impure, vile
and ignoble, we will be impure, vile and ignoble.
Our thoughts rule us. So every boy should guard
well his thoughts; every boy should guard well
what he puts into his mind. Every boy's mind
feeds on what he puts into it, and every boy's
mind grows on what it feeds. It goes without
saying, then, that a boy should not read " blood
and thunder" detective stories, stories about the
"James Brothers" and other outlaws and ban¬
dits; nor should a boy read filthy so-called "love
stories." All such literature should be shunned,
as a boy would shun deadly poison. A boy who
desires to become a good man should read only
those things which will give him confidence in
himself that he can and may become a good.man-
good for the service of God and the service of his
fellow-men. Bad company must also be left behind
if a bad boy wants to become a good boy. Those
boys who tell smutty jokes and stories should not
be allowed to associate with that boy whose eyes
have been opened and who wants to feed his ijiind
on good and wholesome food. Character, boys,
in its last analysis depends chiefly on three things:
Heredity, environment and will. Now you cannot
do much to change your inherited tendencies—
the tendencies you receive from mother and father
THE BAD BOY-HOW TO HELP HIM. 225
at birth, but you can do much in offsetting, in
overcoming these tendencies. You can also do
much with the aid of a generous and enlightened
public to change your surroundings if they hap:
pen to be bad. I confess that your mothers and
fathers, your teachers and pastors ought to do
much more in this regard than you; but if they will
not exert themselves to get you out of evil sur¬
roundings, then, as you value your own life and
time and possibilities, by the help of God, try to
get out yourselves. The will is very largely in¬
fluenced by your surroundings. Hence you can
see the importance of having good books and good
associates.
But whatever you do, boys, do not forget Jesus
Christ, the Lamb of God, who takes away the sin
of the world. The highest part of your nature is
your spiritual nature, and, while you are building
up the body and building up the mind, do not for¬
get to build up your soul. If others will not assist
you in this greater matter you can help yourselves.
The Master said: "Suffer the little children to
come unto me, and forbid them not."
226 THOMAS GREENE BETHUNE.
LXTV.
THOMAS GBEENE BETHUNE.
("Blind Tom.")
I suppose there is not a little colored girl or
boy in America who has not heard of the wonder¬
ful ''Blind Tom," one of the greatest musicians
of the world. I wish that every boy and girl
might have seen him and heard him give one of his
remarkable performances with the piano. I had
that high favor and privilege myself. During his
life on the stage, or for more than forty years,
"Blind Tom" was seen probably by more people
in the world than any one living being. His stage
career was closed somewhere in 1900. I do not
know whether he is living at present or not. If he is
still alive, and he probably is, he is very nearly
sixty years old. Everywhere, in this country and
Europe, those who observed him most closely, and
attempted to understand him, pronounced him a
living miracle, unparalleled, incomprehensible,
such as had not been seen before in the world, and
probably never would be seen again.
Thomas Greene Bethune, better known to the
public as "Blind Tom," was born within a few
miles of the city of Columbus, Georgia, on the
twenty-fifth day of May, 1849. He was of pure
negro blood, and was born blind. He was little
less than four years old when a piano was brought
THOMAS GREENE BETHUNE. 227
to the house of his master, for he was born a slave.
As long as any one was playing he was contented
to stay in the yard and dance and caper to the
music. Sometimes he was permitted to indulge his
curiosity by being allowed to run his fingers over
the keys. One night the parlor and piano had been
left open. Before day the young ladies of the fam¬
ily awoke and were astounded to hear Blind Tom
playing one of their pieces. The family gathered
around him to witness and wonder at his perform¬
ance, which they said was marvellously strange.
Notwithstanding that this was his first known
effort at a tune, he played with both hands and
used the black as well as the white keys. Pretty
soon he was allowed free access to the piano, and
began to play off-hand everything he heard. As
young as he was, he soon mastered all of that and
began composing for himself. The record of his
public life is too long' for me to give, but that
Blind Tom was known and honored around the
world is known to everybody.
But feeling that every colored boy and girl
should be justly proud of Blind Tom's record,
I will give some words from the book of Hon.
James M. Trotter, himself a colored man. His
book is called "Music and Some Highly Musical
People." He says:
"Blind Tom is unquestionably the most won¬
derful musician the world has ever known. He is
an absolute master in the comprehension and re¬
tention of all sound. You may sit down to the
228 THOMAS GREENE BETHUNE.
pianoforte and strike any note or chord or dis¬
cord, or a great number of them, and he will at
once give their proper names, and, taking your
place, reproduce them. Complete master of the
pianoforte keyboard, he calls to his melodious
uses, with most consummate ease, all of its re¬
sources that are known to skillful performers, as
well as constantly discovers and applies those that
are new. Under his magnetic touch this instrument
may become, at his will, a music box, a' hand
organ, a harp, or a bagpipe, a '' Scotch fiddle,'' a
church organ, a guitar, or a banjo; it may imitate
the "stump speaker" as he delivers his glowing
harangue; or, being brought back to its legiti¬
mate tones, it may be made to sing two melodies
at once, while the performer, with his voice, de¬
livers a third, all three in different time and keys,
all in perfect tune and time, and each one easily
distinguishable from the other! He remembers and
plays fully seven thousand pieces. Some persons,
it is true, have had the temerity to say that Blind
Tom is an idiot. Out with the idea! Who ever
heard of an idiot possessing such power of mem¬
ory, such fineness of musical sensibility, such
order, such method, as he displays? Let us call
him the embodiment of music, the soul of music,
and there let our investigations rest, for all else
is vain speculation. No one lives, or, so far as we
know, has ever lived, that can at all be compared
with him."
NOT FIT TO KNOW.
229
LXV.
NOT FIT TO KNOW.
Susan and Mamie and Lillian and Marjorie were
always close friends. They usually Went together
and played together and it was very unusual to
see one of them without the others. At school they
always made it a rule to lunch together and play
together. One day at recess they were standing
in a little group all by them¬
selves when Frances joined
them.
"What are you talking
about, girls?" asked Frances
in cheerful tones.
'' I'm telling them a secret,''
said Susie, "and we will let
you know, too, Frances, if
you'll promise not to tell any
one.''
"I'll promise you not to tell
^anybody but my mother,'' said
'Frances, "for I have made it a
rule to tell my mother every¬
thing. ''
"No; you can't even tell
your mother,'' answered Susie;
"you must not tell any one in
"Fbances." the world."
230
NOT FIT TO KNOW.
"Well, then, I refuse to hear it," said Frances,
as she walked away, "for what I can't tell my
mother is not fit for me to know."
Don't yon think Frances was right, girls? I
think so. As soon as little boys and girls begin
to listen to words and stories which they would
be ashamed to repeat to their mothers they are
on the road to temptation, and nobody can tell how
soon they will reach the end, which is always dis¬
grace and death.
I wish all the boys and girls who will read this
book would make the reply of Frances their mot¬
to: "What I cannot tell my mother is not fit to
know." Stick to this rule through thick and
thin, and you will avoid many of the snares and
pitfalls by which many of your companions and
playmates sink into shame and sin. Don't read
a note that you would be afraid to have your
mother read. Don't look at a picture that you
would be ashamed to have your mother see. Don't
speak any word, and don't allow any to be spoken
to you, that you would not like to have your moth¬
er hear. A girl's best friend is her mother. A
boy's best friend is his mother. And, boys and
girls, be very sure that if a thing isn't fit for your
mothers to know it isn't fit for you to know.
the right way.
231
lxvi.
THE RIGHT WAY.
Henry Oliphant always considered himself
lucky whenever he was able to get a ride on the
street cars without paying for it, or get a glass of
soda water or be admitted to some public place,
where an admission fee was charged, without^pay¬
ing the price. He was bragging one day to some
of his boy friends that he had not paid anything
to witness the school exhibition the night before.
Frank Sewall was brave enough to chide him for
having done so. Frank was a plain-spoken boy,
and Henry didn't like what Frank had said. He
thought what he had done was all right, while
Frank had said that it was all wrong. Anyhow,
Henry decided to get his father's opinion on the
matter.
11 Father," he said, when night had come, "I got
in the hall -last night for nothing.''
'' How was that ?''
"I just walked by the doorkeeper and he didn't
ask me for any money.''
''Did the doorkeeper see you?"
"Well, father, that was his business; he was put
there for that purpose; he ought to have seen
me."
"But I asked you, Henry, whether the door¬
keeper saw you. I want you to answer that ques¬
tion. ''
232
THE RIGHT WAY.
"I don't know, sir."
"Do yon think he saw you?"
"I don't know, sir."
"Well, Henry, if he had seen you, don't you
think he would have asked you for your money
or a ticket?"
"Fatheb," He Said, When Night Had Come, "I Got in the
Hall Last Night foe Nothing."
*
"I guess so, father; but he didn't ask me for
anything."
"Well, now, Henry, you know that a charge of
ten cents was made at the door, and that no one
THE RIGHT WAY.
233
had a right to enter who had not paid the ten
cents. You did go in without paying. Now,
whether the doorkeeper saw you or not, do you
think that that was quite honest on your part?
Was that the right way for you to act!"
'' Well, I would have paid him if he asked me. I
wasn't the doorkeeper."
"I guess the man, who stole our wood last week
would have paid me if I had seen him and asked
him; but we called that stealing."
"But, father, I did not take anything from the
doorkeeper.''
"Who gave you the money with which to pay
your admission?"
"Mother."
"Where is that money now?"
"I have it; but I didn't take it from the door¬
keeper."
"But you kept it from him, Henry. It belongs
to the doorkeeper. He gave you its value. My
son, the right way is, whenever you buy anything,
whether it be a ride or a glass of soda water or
permission to see a concert, whenever you buy
anything you ought to pay for it. If you don't
yoil are no better than a common robber. You must
go today and give Mr. Hall that ten cents."
234 KEEPING FRIENDSHIP IN REPAIR.
LXVH.
KEEPING FRIENDSHIP IN REPAIR.
I sometimes think that boys and girls, and even
old people, are often careless in the matter of their
friendships—not careless in the matter of select¬
ing friends, though I am sure there is room
for improvement along that line—but careless
in trying to keep the good friendships we have
already formed. "We ought to keep our friend¬
ships in repair. Perhaps you think that our
friendships are not things which need to be
kept in repair. How foolish it is to think so!
Does a garden need to be weeded? Does an
old fence need to be kept in repair? Do we
paint our houses only once in a century? What
about the musician—does he not need to keep in
practice? Supposing that you never kept your
muscles in repair by constant use or exercise-
how long would you be strong or healthy? And
do you think that your friendships, because they
are in a way intangible—you cannot see them,
handle them or taste them—do you think that
they grow and thrive of their own accord, and,
therefore, do not need to be kept in repair?
Slights, snubs, angry words, unpleasant conduct,
long continued lack of association, long continued
lack of familiar intercourse, and coldness, even
where the meetings are periodic—these things,-
KEEPING FRIENDSHIP IN REPAIR. 235
boys and girls, will kill the warmest friendship
and choke the tenderest love. So we ought to he
careful to keep our friendships in repair. If we
had no friends in this world, no playmates and
companions, no kindred spirits into whose keenest
sorrows and highest joys we entered with deep
x and full sympathy, and who
did not enter into our sorrows
and joys in the same way—if
we had no friends in this
world, with all of its wealth
The Two Paths.
and splendor, we should not desire to live very
much longer. But to have friends and to be
friendly goes a long way towards making the
world a beautiful and blessed place to live in.
How, then, may we keep our friends? Easy
enough—by cultivating them; and we cannot keep
236 KEEPING FRIENDSHIP IN REPAIR.
them in any other way. We should take time to be
friendly. Little notes, little presents, little visits,
little social entertainments, little kindnesses—
these things, and things like them, go a great way
in cementing our friendships, in tying people to
us, as it were, with hooks of steel. We should not
neglect these means of keeping our friendships in
repair. Always give your friends a cordial wel¬
come in your homes, and at your little children's
parties; let them feel, make them feel, that their
coming adds to your pleasure without increasing
your burdens. Don't be selfish and narrow; be
broad-minded and liberal. Keep your friendships
in repair, and then see if you do not find your
horizon broadened, your life sweetened, and the
weary weight of this sad old world lightened.
Lxvm.
LITTLE ANNIE'S CHRISTMAS.
Christmas morning came.
Daylight was just peeping into the room.
Poor little Annie, the cripple, awoke and turned
her eyes towards the corner where she had hung
her stocking the night before.
Surely, she thought, as she watched it, there
could not be very much in it, because it didn't
seem to be any larger than it was when she had
LITTLE ANNIE'S CHRISTMAS. 237
hung it up. After awhile she crept slowly to where
it was.
She did not take her crutches, for fear she would
disturb her mother, who slept in the same bed
with her. It was hard for her to move aroiind
without her crutches, but she persevered and
finally she reached her stocking.
She put out her thin little hand and felt it. Yesr
there was something in it! Then she put her hand
238 LITTLE ANNIE'S CHRISTMAS.
inside and took out something which seemed round
and soft. She took it out and looked at it. It
was a little cake. Poor little Annie smiled, and
put her hand hack into the stocking. This time
she found something which was done up in paper.
She opened the paper and found a whole dozen of
gumdrops. How brightly her little eyes flashed!
She was only six years old and she had never had
so much candy at one time in all her life.
By-and-by her mother awoke. She raised her
head and saw Annie's happy face. "Poor girl,"
she thought, "how happy I would have been to
have bought something else for her, but I wasn't
able. I hope she will be happy with what she
has."
"See, mother," cried Annie, "I have twelve
gumdrops and a cake. We will eat half of the
gumdrops today and save the other half for to¬
morrow. You'll eat three and I will eat three."
"No, Annie," said her mother, "you must eat
every one by yourself.''
Annie smiled, but did not say anything.
Little Annie's mother was a widow, and she was
very, very poor; there were many times when they
had only a little dry bread and water for the day's
food. For this bright Christmas season there were
many things besides food which she would like to
have bought for her poor little crippled child; but
she did not have any money to pay for playthings
or toys.
After breakfast on this Christmas day Johnny
LITTLE ANNIE'S CHRISTMAS. 239
Ray came to see them. He brought with him a
good thick shawl for Annie's mother and four
pairs of warm stockings which his mother had
sent for Annie, and, also, a large package of nice
candy.
Little Annie's mother cried for joy.
Little Annie was too happy to speak. She had
never dreamed of having so much candy at one
time!
LXIX.
THE VELOCIPEDE RACE.
One bright day Archibald mounted his veloci¬
pede and rode out into the long green lane, where
he could ride for a long distance without interrup¬
tion. He had left his coat in the house because he
knew that riding would make him very warm.
When lie reached the lane the velocipede moved
along so smoothly that Archibald was very happy.
By the time he had gone nearly a half mile he was
tired and stopped for a rest.
Pretty soon he heard a noise coming from be¬
hind, and he wondered what rider it might be on
the same track that beautiful spring morning. He
looked up and saw John Smith coming, riding a
large velocipede and going as fast as he could.
Archibald quickly mounted his wheel and
started on a swift run, trying to overtake the fly-
240 THE VELOCIPEDE RACE.
ing John. Before they reached the end of the road
they saw Clara Hempton, standing by the fence
with her little velocipede. Clara watched the boys
as they flitted past. She thonght that she could
keep up with John, but she was not sure that she
could ride as fast as Archibald.
While she was meditating Archibald cried out:
" Clara, you wait until we finish this race, and
then we three will go back together."
Archibald reached the end first, but John was
not very far behind.
When Clara reached them Archibald said:
THE VELOCIPEDE RACE. 241
"Now we will all have a fair start and see who
will reach the other end first."
So they all started on a line. Archibald knew
that he was the largest and could go the fastest,
but, as he had won the other race, he did not ride
this time as fast as he could. He thought this
was the right way to give the others a fair chance.
Clara and John reached the other end of the
lane at exactly the same time, with Archibald a
short distance behind them.
John and Clara were greatly delighted because
they had won the race from the big boy, Archi¬
bald. Archibald was pleased because they were
pleased. This was not the only time that Archi¬
bald had proved that he was a good and kind boy,
and that he was thoughtful of little children
younger than himself.
From this little story of the velocipede race
many other little boys and girls may learn a
good lesson, I hope, that will do them good all
through life.
LXX.
FAULT-FINDING.
Faults are the easiest things to find in all this
world. A fault is something that can be found
without looking for it. And I guess no little boy
or girl in all the world knows anything that is
242
FAULT-FINDING.
easier to find than something that he or she
doesn't have to look for. Well, faults are things
that we can find without looking for them; so
faults are the easiest things to find in all the
world. Yet, boys and girls, the habit of fault¬
finding, or the habit of finding fault, is one of the
worst habits that anybody could form. It does no¬
body good, generally
speaking. Besides it
stamps the person
who is so easy to find
r fault with everything
and everybody as be¬
ing a mean, low, envious, evil-
hearted person. It is a good deal
better to look for something to
praise than it is to look for some¬
thing to blame. Yet there are
some people—some little boys
and girls—who are so constituted
that they do not see any good in
anything. When it is cold, it is
4oo cold. When it is hot, it is
too hot. They don't like "vici
kid" shoes; they want patent leathers. The
singing at church or Sunday school last
Sunday was just horrid. Old Mary Jones
ought to be taken out of the choir. The
preacher preaches too long, or the deacon
prays too loud. The school teacher isn't any good
—I can beat him drawing myself. So they go on
Fault-Finding.
FAULT-FINDING.
243
from day to day, finding fault with everything and
everybody. Nothing pleases them; nothing de¬
lights them. If by any chance or mischance they
should get to heaven they would, I believe, find
fault with the way the Lord has arranged things
up there. They are miserable people to have
around—thes'e good-for-nothing, lazy and trifling
fault-finders. If you try real hard, boys and girls,
you can find something good in everything and in
everybody. That is one reason why we do not
always see the good in people or things—we
don't look for it. We can find out what is bad-
can find out the bad things without looking for
them, but if we want to see the good things we
must be on. the lookout for them. If we are on
the lookout—if we make up our minds that we
are going to see the good, and only the good, we
are always sure to find it.
There was an old woman once who was noted for
being able to say something good about every¬
thing. and everybody. She was never heard to
speak evil of anything or anybody. Once upon a
time a gambler died in the city where she lived. He
was a miserable sinner, and nobody liked him and
nobody had a good word to say for him, even after
he was dead. Aunt Maria, the good old lady, went
to see him after he had been put into his coffin.
The people who were present wondered what good
thing Aunt Maria could possibly say about the
dead sinner. Aunt Maria entered the room and
244
FAULT-FINDING.
walked around on tiptoe. After awhile she raised
her head and said:
"Friends, I tell you, he makes a mighty nice
looking corpse."
LXXI.
THE PURITANS' SABBATH.
If all the little boys and girls in America today
knew how the people in the New England states
were compelled by law to keep the Sabbath day
I think they would realize how much better it is
to be living in these days and times than to have
lived in those.
The laws concerning the keeping of a New Eng¬
land Sabbath were very severe—that is, before the
Revolutionary War, when what was called colon¬
ial rule was in force..
No manner of work was allowed to be done; no
visiting, no playing, no gaiety of any kind was
permitted; just think, boys and girls, it is said
that one man was brought to trial and fined for
kissing his wife on a Sabbath morning.
Slowly and solemnly, just as if they were going
to a funeral, the families all walked to the meeting
house on Sundays, some of them having to walk
many and many miles.
On reaching the church the men took their
places on one side of the house and the women on
IN THE PURITAN'S SABBATH. 245
the other—they didn't allow men and women to
sit together. The children, also, had to sit by
themselves, and there was a man appointed to
keep them quiet. This man carried a long-stick
with a hard knob at one end and a little feather
brush at the other. The feather end of this stick
he would use to tickle the faces of the men and
women who might chance to get sleepy and go to
nodding during the preaching. The other end he
used on the children.
I guess this poor man must have kept busy all
the time, for the sermons were very long, lasting
for whole hours. Sometimes a man would begin
a sermon in the morning and preach up to dinner¬
time ; the congregation would then go out for din¬
ner, and come back and sit for hours during the
afternoon to hear the sermon concluded.
The men carried their muskets to church with
them, so that they might have them ready in case
of an attack from the wild Indians.
The meeting houses were not warmed even in
very cold weather; the people thought that in some
way it would make them better Christians if they
bore such discomforts without a murmur. Of
course we know better now, and wouldn't think
of doing such a foolish thing.
After a time the people began to carry hot
bricks and stones to keep their hands and feet
from freezing, and by-and-by they carried foot
stoves. These stoves were little tin boxes, with
holes in the side, a cover, a door, and handles with
246 IN THE PURITAN'S SABBATH.
[which to carry them. In these boxes were put live
coals and in that way the fire would last through¬
out the sermon.
I fear many and many a little boy and girl
dreaded to see Sunday come, for, as a rule, it was
a long, dreary day, and I am sure that they must
have been glad when it was over.
I know you must be glad that people no longer
have the idea that Sunday should be such a dis¬
mal, sober day; and I believe that our Heavenly
Father is much more pleased to see the children
spending the Lord's day happily in their homes
with their mothers and fathers, their little broth¬
ers and sisters.
Of course no Christian boy or girl even now be¬
lieves in making Sunday a day of riot and fun;
and no Christian man or woman believes in hav¬
ing the saloons open on Sunday anywhere. But
most of us are away beyond the old Puritan idea
of sadness and gloom for the Sabbath.
Next Sunday, boys and girls, when you enter
your pleasant Sunday school rooms and find your
schoolmates and teachers so glad to see you, and
where everything is bright and pleasant, think of
those poor little children who had no books and
cards and no pretty songs and who were made to
pass the whole day without even being allowed
to laugh.
THE DEVIL ON AN EXCURSION. 247
LXXII
THE DEVIL ON AN EXCURSION.
I wonder how many boys and girls have ever
witnessed a cyclone—a great big hurricane of
wind and rain, of lightning and thunder, that just
knocks down all the trees and takes the roofs
off all the houses.
It is a terrible thing, the cyclone is!
The other day one came to our town. We could
look up into the sky and see coming, from afar, a
great big black cloud that looked for all the world
like a balloon—a great big balloon, ever so large.
The wind was blowing at a rapid rate, the dust
flying, and everybody was frightened.
The roof was lifted off the school house, a
church was blown down, many houses were un¬
roofed, and men and beasts were alike hurled
right and left. I do not think anybody was killed
but a great many were frightened nearly to death.
The cyclone took one poor little boy and landed
him in the midst of a mud puddle. The little
fellow stretched out stiff and stark, as if he had
been killed. An old man ran up to the edge of
the ditch and said:
"Isaac, is you dead!"
Isaac said nothing, but his eyes, were rolling
in their sockets. The old man asked again:
"Isaac, is you dead? 'Cause ef you is dead
248 THE DEVIL ON AN EXCURSION.
d' ain't no use nv my comin' in dar to try to git
yon out."
This time Isaac grunted, rolled his eyes, and
asked:
''De Goodnis Gracious! I See Dat Ole Cycloom Comin'
Back Ag'in. He Look Blackah and Wussah Dan
He Done Befo'. Run, Isaac, Run!"
"Where is he, Uncle Reuben?"
"Whar's who?" asked Uncle Reuben.
"The devil," said Isaac.
THE DEVIL ON AN EXCURSION. 249
"He done gone," said Uncle Reuben, "he done
clean gone; but yon bettah git np f'um dar!"
"I can't," said Isaac. "I can't; I'm 'most
dead!"
Uncle Eeuben studied a short while. He was
planning what to do next. He didn't want to go
into the mud and water and get his clothes soiled
in trying to rescue the little boy. By-and-by Uncle
Eeuben threw up his hands, looked up the big road
and said:
"De goodnis gracious! I see dat ole cycloom
comin' back ag'in. He look blackah and wussahi
dan he done bef oEun, Isaac, run!''
You ought to have seen Isaac jump out of that
hole. He got out hallooing, and he rah and hal¬
looed for nearly a quarter of a mile. Uncle Eeuben
hallooed after him to stop,~T)ut it did no good. The
poor little fellow was well nigh scared to death.
A few days after the cyclone Uncle Eeuben was
telling some of his friends about the occurrence.
Among other things he said:
"Little Isaac wasn't ready fur Judgment—
dat's all! He wasn't ready! W'en a man's ready
to go to judgment, he ain't 'fraid uv nothin'. No,
sah; he ain't 'fraid uv nothin'. Isaac wasn't
ready, an' he hallooed an' squealed jes like death
done struck him. Mens, I tell you, dat ole cycloom
jes 'tuck de roof off'n ev'ybody's house. Look
like ev'ybody's house he come to he dip down an'
say, 'Take yo' hat off to me; don't you see me
comin'; ain't you got no mannahsT Den he'd
250 THE DEVIL ON AN EXCURSION.
strike 'em an' take deir hats off hisse'f. He took
de roof off'n de cullud school house an' he took de
roof off'n de white school house. De cycloom ain't
no respectah uv persons—he sho ain't. Wen lit¬
tle Isaac done come to his senses an' done got
clean ovah his fright, I ax'd him what a cycloom
was. He told me dat a cycloom wa'n't nothin' 'tall
in dis worl' but de debbil on a flyin' 'scursion.
The mo' I think 'bout it, the mo' I b'lieve dat boy
was right. De cycloom sho is de debbil on a 'scur¬
sion, an' w'en de debbil is a-ridin' you'd bettah
lay low."
LXXHI.
RANDOM REMARKS.
In the olden times parents used to rule their
children, but in these days and times there are
many people who believe that the children rule
their parents. So many misguided parents in these
days and times believe in sparing the rod and
spoiling the child. Boys don't get many whippings
at home nowadays, and if a boy happens to get a
good flogging at school it will cause a big row,
and sometimes cause the teacher to be threatened
with arrest. Whenever my teacher used to whip
me I was always afraid to mention it at home for
fear of getting another. I heard a man say the
other day: "Never whip a child; raise your boy
RANDOM REMARKS.
251
on love and kindness and reason!" Yes; and when
that boy is twelve or thirteen years old somebody
will have to go to him and talk to him and try to
persuade him not to whip his father or mother.
I was at church the other day and I saw two
boys about ten or eleven years old. After service
they lit their cigarettes and went marching off
RANDOM REMARKS.
as big as Trip. A man of the old school looked at
them for awhile, and then, turning away, he said:
"I just wish I could have my way with those
boys for about two minutes.''
I didn't say anything, but deep down in my
h§art I sympathized with the old man, and felt
that both of the youngsters ought to have had
a good whipping.
Some girls are almost as bad as some boys.
Girls are most too fast in these days. As soon
as they get their dresses to their shoetops they are
gone. They go crazy over their clothes, for they
think that they must keep in the fashion. They
read too much trash, for they think that is the way
refined and cultured people do. Old-fashioned
modesty is at a discount. The girls don't wait
for the boys to come now—that is, many of them
don't; they go after them. I have seen some girls
running around in these new-fashioned night
gowns, and they call it a Mother Hubbard party.
If their mothers don't allow them to go with the
boys they will slip around and meet them some¬
where anyhow. And where they are allowed to
go with the boys they generally go to extremes.
What business has a little girl—ten or twelve or
fourteen years old—to be locked-arms with a lit¬
tle stripling of a boy, going home at night from
church or some social entertainment. It always
disgusts me whenever I see it. Worse than a
mannish boy is a womanish girl. What busi¬
ness has a little girl, or a larger one, to allow
RANDOM REMARKS.
253
a man to throw his arm around her waist in the
round dance? It is immodest, to $ay the least, and
there is not a good mother in the land who ap¬
proves it. A girl who goes to a promiscuous
ball and waltzes around with promiscuous fellows
puts herself in a promiscuous fix to be talked
about by; the dudes and rakes and fast young fel¬
lows who have encircled her waist. Slander is
very common, I know, especially slander of young
ladies; there are not many young ladie^ who
escape it; bi}t the trouble about it is that it is not
all slander—some of it is the truth.
In the olden times when folks got married they
stayed married, but nowadays the courts are full
of divorce cases. The land is spotted with what
are called '' grass widows,'' and in many a house¬
hold there is hidden grief over a daughter's shame.
Why is it f What causes it ? Lack of proper train¬
ing and care of the young> Habits are great things
—good habits or bad habits. If girls are reared
to clean their teeth and keep their fingernails
clean they will keep them clean all their lives. If
boys are reared to chew tobacco and smoke they
will never quit. The same about loving and court¬
ing and getting married. Much depends upon
training, upon habits. Young flirts make old flirts.
Young devils make old devils!
254 THE NEGRO ASTRONOMER.
LXXIV.
BENJAMIN BANNEKER, THE NEGRO.
ASTRONOMER.
The little colored boys and girls of America
should be proud to know, as I suppose the little
white boys and girls will be surprised to learn,
that the first clock of which every portion was
made in America was made by a colored man.
The colored children will also be glad to know,
I think, that among the earliest almanacs pre¬
pared for general use in this country were those
which were published for several years by this
same colored man. His name was Benjamin Ban-
neker. I have found a good and true account of
this wonderful man in The Atlantic Monthly for
January, 1863. I am going to give a good portion
of that account in this book, because I believe
every colored person in America should be ac¬
quainted with that man's history. The account
says:
"Benjamin Banneker was born in Baltimore
County, Maryland, near the village of Ellicott's
Mills, in the year 1732. There was not a drop of
white man's blood in his veins. His father was
born in Africa, and his mother's parents were
both natives of Africa. What genius he had, then,
must be credited to that race. When he was ap¬
proaching manhood he j^ent, in the intervals of
THE NEGRO ASTRONOMER. 255
toil, to an obscure and remote country school.
At this school Benjamin acquired a knowledge of
reading and writing, and advanced in arithmetic
as far as 'Double position.' Beyond these rudi¬
ments he was his own teacher. Young Banneker
had no books at all, but in the midst of labor for
a living he so improved upon what he had gained
in arithmetic that his intelligence became a mat¬
ter of general observation. He was such an acute
observer of the natural world and had so dili¬
gently observed the signs of the times in society
that it is very doubtful whether at forty years of
age this African had his superior in Maryland.
"Perhaps the first wonder amongst his com¬
paratively illiterate neighbors was excited, when,
about the thirtieth year of his age, Benjamin made
a clock. It is probable that this was the first clock
of which every portion was made in America; it is
certain that it was purely his own invention as if
none had ever been made before. He had seen a
watch, but never a clock, such an article not being
within fifty miles of him. He used the watch as a
model for his clock. He was a long time at work
on the clock,—his chief difficulty, as he used often
to relate, being to make the hour, minute, and
second hands correspond in their motion. But at
last the work was completed, and raised the
admiration for Banneker to quite a high pitch
among his few neighbors.
'1 The making of the clock proved to be of great
importance in assisting the young man to fulfill
256 THE NEGRO ASTRONOMER.
his destiny. It attracted the attention of the Elli-
cott family, who had just begun a settlement at
Ellicott's Mills. They were well-educated men,
with much mechanical knowledge, and some of
them Quakers. They sought out the ingenious
negro, and he could not have fallen into better
hands. In 1787 Mr. George Ellicott gave him
Mayer's "Tables," Ferguson's "Astronomy,"
and Leadbetter's "Lunar Tables." From this
time astronomy became the great object of Ban-
neker's life, and in its study he almost disappeared
from the sight of his tieighbors. He slept much'
during the day, that he might the more devotedly
observe at night the heavenly bodies whose laws
he was slowly, but surely, mastering.
"Very soon after the possession of the books
already mentioned, Banneker determined to com¬
pile an almanac, that being the most familiar use
that occurred to him of the information he had
acquired. To make an almanac then was a very
different thing from what it would be now, when
there is an abundance of accurate tables and rules.
Banneker had no aid whatever from men or rules;
and Mr. George Ellicott, who procured some tables
and took them to him, states that he had already
advanced very far in the preparation of the
logarithms necessary for the purpose.
"The first almanac prepared by Banneker for
publication was for the year 1792. By this time
his acquirements had become generally known,
and among those who were attracted by them was
THE NEGRO ASTRONOMER. 257
Mr. James McHenry. Mr. McHenry wrote to God-
dard and Angell, -then the almanac-publishers of
Baltimore, and procured the publication of this
work, which contained from the pen of Mr. Mc¬
Henry, a brief notice of Banneker. When his first
almanac was published, Banneker was fifty-nine
years old, and had received tokens of respect from
all the scientific men of the country. Among
others, Thomas Jefferson, then Secretary of State
under George Washington, wrote him a most flat¬
tering and complimentary letter. In his letter Jef¬
ferson said, 'Nobody wishes more than I do to see
such proofs as you exhibit, that Nature has given
to our black brethren talents equal to those of
other colors of men, and that the appearance of a
want of them is owing only to the degraded condi¬
tion of their existence both in Africa and America.'
" Banneker continued to calculate and publish
almanacs until 1802.
"Mr. Benjamin H. Ellicott, who was a true
friend of Banneker, and collected from various
sources all the facts concerning him, wrote in a let¬
ter as follows: 'During the whole of his long life
he lived respectably and much esteemed by all
who became acquainted with him, but more espe¬
cially by those who could fully appreciate his
genius and the extent of his acquirements.'
" Banneker's head was covered with a thick
mass of white hairr which gave him a very digni¬
fied and venerable appearance. His dress was in¬
variably of superfine drab broadcloth, made in
258 THE NEGRO ASTRONOMER.
the old style of a plain coat, with straight collar
and long waistcoat, and a broad-brimmed hat.
His color was not jet black, but decidedly negro.
In size and personal appearance, the statue of
Franklin at the library in Philadelphia, as seen
from the street, is a perfect likeness of him.
"Banneker died in the year 1804, beloved and
respected by all who knew him. Though no monu¬
ment marks the spot where he was born and lived
a true and high life, and was buried, yet history
must record that the most original scientific intel¬
lect which the South has yet produced was that of
the pure African, Benjamin Banneker."
The above is the story of that wonderful black
man told in splendid terms of high and well-de¬
served praise by a white man. Every little black
boy in America may well be fired with inspiration
to do something beyond the ordinary by reading
the story of Banneker's life.
LXXV.
"A LITTLE CHILD SHALL LEAD THEM."
It is truly astonishing what a boy can do when
once he has made up his mind to do his best. Dr.
Len. G. Broughton, the famous pastor of the Tab¬
ernacle Baptist church, Atlanta, Ga., in a little
book, which he calls "The Modern Prodigal,'' has
told a very pathetic story about a little boy. It is
"ALITTLE CHILD SHALLLEAD THEM." 259
so true to life, and so typical of what a black or
white boy may do under similar circumstances, if
he only decides for the true and the right, that I
have decided to reproduce the little story in this
book. It is well worth reading. Dr. Broughton
says:
"Not long after I entered the ministry, I went
to a certain town to hold a series of meetings. It
was one of these good old Southern towns, the in¬
habitants of which banked on aristocracy and fed
their souls upon the glory of departed days. They
had never known what it was to be spiritually
warm. The first night I was there I preached to a
great audience. It was in my early ministry, when
I made many propositions. The first one I made
that night was for any one to stand who wanted
prayers offered for their friends. As soon as I
made it a little boy got up and walked out in the
aisle, where he stood looking me square in the face.
I said,' God bless you, little man,' and he sat down.
I then asked any one who wanted the prayers of
God's people to rise. That boy got out in the aisle
again and looked me in the face, and again I said,
'God bless you.' I asked if there was anybody
present who was willing to accept Jesus. That
boy stood up again and looked me in the face, and
again I said, 'God bless you.' Nobody else stood
up that night, and I began to think I had struck
about the hardest and coldest crowd I had ever
run up against.
"The next night I preached as hard as I knew
260 "A LITTLE CHILD SHALL LEAD THEM.''
how to sinners, and when I finished, I asked any¬
body who wanted to be prayed for to stand up.
The same little rascal popped out into the aisle, as
he had done the night before, and stood looking at
me until I saw him and said, 'God bless you.' I
thought I'd vary the thing a little, so I asked if
anybody present was willing to come forward and
give me his hand as an indication that he would
accept Jesus. That same boy came shuffling out of
his seat, straight down the aisle and gave me his
hand. I saw smiles on the faces of some in the
congregation. Nobody but the boy showed any
interest, and I went off somewhat disheartened.
The third night I preached, and when I asked all
who wanted prayer to rise, that boy popped out
into the aisle. The people had begun to regard it
as a joke, and they nudged each other with their
elbows, while a broad smile flared from one side
of the house to the other. "When I asked anybody
who was willing to accept Jesus to come and give
me his hand, that boy came, and the congregation
smiled broader than before. After the meeting
the deacons came to me and told me that the boy
must be stopped, as he was a half-idiot, and was
throwing a damper on the meeting. I said: 'Stop
nothing! How are you going to throw a damper on
an ice-house?'
For the whole of that week that boy was the
only person in the house who showed any inter¬
est in the meeting. Then he wanted to join the
church. The pastor was absent, and I was to open
"A LITTLE CHILD SHALL LEAD THEM." 261
the doors of the church. The deacons came to me
and said I must not receive that boy, as he didn't
have sense enough to join the church. I said:
'Look here, brethren, I won't take this respon¬
sibility on my hands. I'm going to put that boy
on you, and if you choose to reject him, his blood
be upon your hands.' At the conclusion of the
morning service, I invited all who wanted to unite
with the church to come forward. That boy came.
I asked him if he had accepted Christ for his per¬
sonal Saviour. That's all I ever ask. He said he
had. 'Brethren,' I said, 'you hear what this boy
has to say. "What will you do with him?' An
ominous silence fell on the congregation. After a
time, from 'way back by the door, I heard a muf¬
fled and rather surly, 'I move he be received.'
Another painful silence followed, and then, from
the middle of the church, I heard a muffled, 'I
second the motion.' When I put the motion, about
a half dozen members voted 1 aye' in a tone so low
that it seemed as if they were scared. I gave the
boy the right hand of Christian welcome awaiting
baptism, and then dismissed the congregation.
"The next day the boy went out to see his old
grandfather, a man whose whitened head was blos¬
soming for the grave, and whose feet were taking
hold upon the shifting sands of eternity. 'Grand¬
father,' said he, 'won't you go to church with me
to-night and hear that preacher?' "We always feel
kindly towards those who are afflicted, you know,
262 "A LITTLE CHILD SHALL LEAD THEM.''
and are willing to please them; so the old man
agreed to go.
'' That night I saw the boy and the old man sit¬
ting away back by the door. "When the sermon
was finished, one of the members of the church
arose and said: 'I have a request to make. We
have with us tonight, Mr. Blank, one of our oldest
and most respected citizens, but he is out of Christ.
I want special prayer offered for this my special
friend.' With that he laid his hand upon the head
of the old man, down whose furrowed cheeks the
tears were streaming. The next night I saw the
old man sitting about half-way down the aisle.
When all who wanted to accept Jesus were invited
to come forward and give me their hands, I saw
the half-idiot boy coming down the aisle leading
the old man by the hand.
"That little boy's father kept a saloon. The
following day the child went there, and climbing
up over the high counter, he peeped down upon his
father and said: 'Papa, won't you go to church
with me to-night to hear that preacher?' 'You
get out of here, child,' said the father; 'go out of
here; don't you know you mustn't come in here?'
Strange, strange, how fathers will keep places
where their children cannot go! 'But, papa,' con¬
tinued the boy, 'won't you go to church with me
to-night?' 'Yes; I'll go, but you get out of here.'
"That night the man came with the half-idiot
boy, and sat about where the old man had sat the
night before. When I asked all who would accept
<' A LITTLE CHILD SHALL LEAD THEM.'' 263
Jesns to come forward, lie walked down the aisle
and gave me his hand. He asked if he could make
a statement, and when I said 'Yes,' he faced the
congregation and said: 'My friends, you all
know me, and I want to say that so long as I live
I will never sell another drop of whiskey, for I
have given my heart to God to-night, and from
this day forward I propose to serve him.'
*' The meeting warmed up at last, the town was
set on fire for God. Every saloon keeper was con¬
verted and every saloon was closed. The feeling
spread and a saloon seven miles in the country was
closed and the keeper was converted to God.
"At the close of the meeting I sat on the front
seat and saw the pastor lead three generations
into the baptismal waters, the old man in front,
his son behind him, and last in line the little half-
idiot boy. The only mistake that was made, to my
mind, was that the boy who had led the others to
Christ should not have been first in line. "Where
is the little half-idiot boy now? He has grown
much brighter within the last few years, and is
now going to school. He says he wants to be and
will fie a missionary.
"What a lesson for the young to-day. Per¬
sistent self-surrender, ever doing the best we can,
is a never failing way that leads to victory."
264 DIRECTIONS FOR LITTLE LADIES.
LXXVI.
DIRECTIONS FOR LITTLE LADIES.
1. A little lady always says, "I thank you"
whenever anybody assists her in any way, and
always says, "If you please," whenever she makes
any kind of request.
2. A little lady is never loud and boisterous on
the streets, in public places, or at home. Some¬
times girls are so rough that they are called
"Tom-Boys." No Tom-Boy ever was a true little
lady.
3. A true little lady will always see that her
linen is clean and spotless —collars and cuffs,
aprons and dresses, handkerchiefs, and all articles
of clothing. Every true little lady hates dirt.
4. A little lady will not be guilty of idle gossip.
She will not tattle; will not go around hunting all
the evil things that are said or known about other
little ladies. She closes her ears tight against the
slanderers of the town.
5. A little lady will love the Sunday-school and
the church. She will love the society of good
people and the society of good books. She will
have higher notions of life than that life is some¬
thing to be spent in a merry round of pleasure.
6. A true little lady loves her mother, and she
will show that she loves her mother in various
ways. She will help her about the housework.
DIRECTIONS FOR LITTLE LADIES. 265
She will be fond of going out in company with her
mother often. She will not think that anybody
else's mother is or can be better than her own
mother.
7. Every true little lady will be a Christian.
She will early give herself to Jesus. She will de-
266 DIRECTIONS FOE LITTLE LADIES.
light to help the poor; to visit the sick, carrying
the cheer and comfort and something good to eat
and flowers and many other things. ' She will love
everybody. Do you?
Lxxvn.
THREE WORDS TO YOUNG PEOPLE.
The first word is, Be true. The second word is,
Be trustworthy. The third word is, Dare to do
right.
First: Be true! Be what you seem to be or
what you pretend to be; do not be a hypocrite;
be firm and steady in adhering to friends,
promises or principles. Be a true boy; be a true
girl.
Secondly: Be trustworthy! Be worthy of trust;
be reliable; make your word your bond. Conduct
yourself in such a way that people can depend on
you.
Thirdly: Dare to do right! "Whatever comes
or doesn't come, stand by what you believe to be
right, even if you have to stand alone. Be honest,
upright, faithful, sincere, abhor that which is evil,
cleave to that which is good.
True boys and girls are scarce; they are not
easily found; they do not grow on trees. But, to
tell you the truth, we need good boys and girls,
true boys and girls, much more than we do edu-
THREE WORDS TO YOUNG PEOPLE. 267
cated boys and girls. All education without char¬
acter is a dead weight!
Let me give you one or two reasons why you
should be true, trustworthy, and brave for the
right. In the first place, for the sake of your influ¬
ence. Every boy and girl in this world has some
influence. Every boy in this world, white or
black, rich or poor, high or low, is helping his
friends and playmates to grow better or worse,
higher or lower in the scale of being. Every girl
in this world is likewise helping or hindering
others. If we are harsh and unkind, cruel and
unjust—in every wrong, every baseness, mean¬
ness, selfishness, we are harming not ourselves
alone but the whole great family of man. On the
other hand, when we speak fearlessly a brave, true
word, when we perform cheerfully a hard and try¬
ing task, whenever we are faithful, honest, ear¬
nest, patient, pure, trustworthy, whether we know
it or not, we are strengthening the unseen im¬
pulses which make for nobility and higher man¬
hood and womanhood throughout the world. In
the economy of God, by his infinite wisdom, the
humblest life reaches forward to the highest and
the highest life reaches backward to the lowest.
But perhaps you are saying that I am taking
too much for granted. Perhaps you think that it
is not true that there is not one of the very least of
the great human family who is not every day exer¬
cising some personal influence for good or evil
upon the world. If you think so, boys and girls,
268 THREE WORDS TO YOUNG PEOPLE.
or older people, you are mistaken. No human
being can escape from the world's atmosphere.
Though you fly to the uttermost parts of the sea
or hide in the depths of the dense city, some life is
affected by your life. Not only some life is
affected by your life, but many lives are affected
by your life. It is a thought of this kind that
Charles Dickens beautifully expresses in his story
called "David Copperfield." He says:
"There is nothing—no, nothing—beautiful and
good that dies and is forgotten. An infant, a
prattling child, dying in his cradle, will live again
in the better thoughts of those who loved it, and
plays its part, though its body be burned to ashes
or drowned in the deepest sea. There is not an
angel added to the hosts of heaven but does its
blessed work on earth in those who loved it here.
Dead! Oh, if the good deeds of human creatures
could be traced to their source, how beautiful
would even death appear. For how much charity,
mercy, and purified affection would be seen to
have their growth in dusty graves!"
No, children, it is no idle dream, no fancy story
that I tell when I say that the humblest member
of the human family, as well as the highest, is
exercising daily, whether he is conscious of it or
not, some influence for good or evil upon the-
world. Viewed in this light who can measure the
possibilities—the divine possibilities—that are
wrapped up in little boys and girls? Viewed in
this light, how the slightest action, the smallest of
THREE WORDS TO YOUNG PEOPLE. 269
our little duties, takes 011 new importance! It was
with, this thought in mind that James A. Garfield
said: "I feel a profounder reverence for a boy
than a man. I never meet a ragged boy on the
street without feeling that I owe him a salute, for
I know not what possibilities may be buttoned up
under his shabby coat." Yes, boys and girls, by
every brave and cheerful effort that we put forth
we are reforming, uplifting, renewing, inspir¬
ing, hearts and souls we never heard of, never
knew, the whole world becoming stronger for
every bit of moral courage we create, sweeter for
every kindly look we give, and holier for every
good deed we do. And, of course, the contrary is
true. When we fail, when we come short, when
we sin, the consequences dre not ours alone—they
extend to all humanity. We are all, white and
black, rich and poor, old and young, male and
female, children of one family. Just as the quiv¬
ering circles from a pebble thrown into a lake
stretch on and on from shore to shore, so the silent
impulse of a single life thrills from heart to heart
until the very edges of humanity are touched.
There is another reason still why we should be
true, trustworthy, brave. That reason is that
somebody else takes us as his ideal—his standard.
Poor as we are, weak as we are, as unworthy as
we are, somebody else is looking up to us—espe¬
cially those of us who have been favored with
educational advantages and opportunities. And
you know that the failure of one who is invested
270 THREE WORDS TO YOUNG PEOPLE.
in another's mind with ideal qualities is a failure
beyond the actual. That is one reason why people
say that, as a rule, a preacher's children are the
worst children in the world. As a matter of fact,
they are not the worst children in the world; but,
being the children of preachers, everybody expects
more of them than of others,—they are taken as
ideals, as standards—that's all. And what might
be excused in others will not be excused in one who
is taken as an ideal. Nathaniel Hawthorne, one of
'America's greatest writers, in speaking of this
truth says in his story called '' The Marble Faun:''
"The character of an individual beloved one
having invested itself with all the attributes of
right—that one friend being to us the symbol and
representative of whatever is good and true,—
when he falls, the effect is almost as if the sky fell
with him, bringing down in chaotic ruin the
columns that upheld our faith. We struggle forth
again, no doubt bruised and bewildered. We stare
wildly about us, and discover—or it may be we
never make the discovery—that it was not actu¬
ally the sky that has tumbled down but merely a
frail structure of our own rearing, which never
rose higher than the housetops, and has fallen
because we founded it on nothing. But the crash,
and the affright and trouble are as overwhelming,
for the time, as if the catastrophe involved the
whole moral world. Remembering these things,
let them suggest one generous motive for walking
heedfully amid the defilement of earthly ways. Let
THREE WORDS TO YOUNG PEOPLE. 271
■us reflect that the highest path is pointed out by
the pure ideal of those who look up to us, and who,
if we tread less loftily, may never look so high
again.''
Now, I have said my three words. You see they
have stretched themselves out to a great length,
but I hope the boys and girls who read this book
may profit by them. Strive to be true, strive to be
trustworthy, strive to be brave. In the long run
the prizes of this world, and of that which is to
come, are won by boys and girls of strong moral
character, not by those who are merely learned or
rich. . But, of course, I believe in education and I
believe in money. I think you ought to strive to
obtain both—both are useful, and both are neces¬
sary; but, with all your getting, boys and girls, be
sure to get those things which will reach beyond
this world and which will count for more than
money or good looks or education or any such
thing when the world is on fire, when the moon
shall be turned into blood, when the trumpet
sounds, and all must go to stand before the Great
King to give an account of the deeds done in the
body.
272 "A LAMP UNTO MY FEET."
LXXVIII.
"A LAMP UNTO MY FEET."
Once upon a time, so it is said, a little ragged
boy was carefully printing these words with, a
stick upon the ground, "Thy word is a lamp unto
my feet."
On looking up from his work, the little fellow
was surprised to find- a kind-looking old man
watching him.
"Where did you learn that, my boy?" asked
the man.
"At Sunday-school, sir."
"What's your name-?"
"Crawford."
"So, Crawford, you learned that text at Sun¬
day-school. Do you know what it means?"
"No, sir."
"What is a lamp?"
"A lamp? Why, sir, a lamp is a thing that
gives light!"
"That's correct. Well, what is the word that
the text speaks of?"
'' The Bible, sir.''
"That's right. Now, how can the Bible be a
lamp and give light ?''
"I don't know," said the boy, "unless you light
it and set it on fire."
"There's a better way than that, my lad. Sup-
"A LAMP UNTO MY FEET." 273
pose yon were going down some lonely lane on a
dark night with an unlighted lantern in yonr
hand, and a box of matches in yonr pocket, what
would yon do?"
"Why, I'd light the lantern."
f—u "Why would you light
it!"
"To show me the road,
"A Lamp Unto My Feet."
walking behind me some day, and saw me drop a
quarter; what would you do?"
"Pick it up and give it to you, sir."
"Wouldn't you want to keep it yourself?"
Crawford hesitated; but he saw a smile on the
274 "A LAMP UNTO MY FEET."
old gentleman's face, and, smiling himself, lie
finally said:
"I should want to, sir; but I shouldn't do it."
11 Why not ?''
"Because it would be stealing."
"How do you know?"
"It would be taking what wasn't my own, and
the Bible says we are not to steal."
"Ah!" said the old man, "so it's the Bible that
makes you honest, is it?"
"Yes, sir."
"If you had not heard of the Bible you would
steal, I suppose ?''
"Lots of boys do," said Crawford, hanging his
head.
"The Bible, then," continued the old man,
"shows you the right and safe path—the path of
honesty, does it ?"
"Like the lamp!" exclaimed Crawford, seeing
now what all the old man's questions meant. "Is
that what the text means'?"
"Yes, my boy," the man answered, "there is
always light in the Bible to show us where to go
and what to do. Don't you think it would be a
good thing to take the Bible, the good old lamp,
and let it light you right through life ?''
"Yes, sir."
"Do you think you will be safer with it?"
"Yes, sir."
"Why?"
"A LAMP UNTO MY FEET." 275
"Because if I'm honest I will never go to
prison.''
"And what else?" asked tlie man.
Crawford thought awhile. By-and-by he said,—
"If I mind the Bible I shall go to heaven when
I die."
"Yes, and that's the best reason for taking the
lamp. It will light you right into heaven.''
LXXIX.
THREE BRIGADES.
There are three brigades, or three little com¬
panies, which I think ought to be organized
among the boys and girls in every Sunday-school
in America. Can't you form them in your Sun¬
day-school? It is a very simple matter. It will
not cost any money: only a little time and fore¬
thought, and a will to do. One brigade is called
the Rainy-Weather Brigade, and all the little boys
and girls who join this company pledge them¬
selves to go to Sunday-school every Sunday, when
they are not sick, even if it is raining. The second
brigade is called the Front Seat Brigade, and all
the members of this company pledge themselves to
occupy front seats in the Sunday school during
the opening exercises before they pass to their
classes. The third brigade is called the On-Timers'
Brigade, and the children in this brigade pledge
276 THREE BRIGADES.
themselves to be present on time at the opening
hour.
Yon can see at once how helpful these little
brigades are in every Sunday school (where they
exist) to the officers and teachers. Some children
will not go to Sunday school when it is raining or
when it threatens to rain; some will not go for¬
ward and occupy front seats when they do go; and
there are others who are always tardy. What a
blessing it would be if all the little children would
organize these brigades at once in their schools,
and try to get every scholar to join each one of
them.
"HOME, SWEET HOME." 277
LXXX.
''HOME, SWEET HOME."
Go with me, boys and girls, to the gay streets
and gilded saloons of the great city of Paris far
across the sea. Here is said to be the centre of
all the world's follies and pleasures. It is at night.
An American, who has left his home and native
land to view the splendors of the wicked city, is
passing along the street. He has beheld with de¬
light its paintings, its sculpture, and the grand
and graceful proportions of its buildings. In the
midst of his keenest happiness, when he was re¬
joicing most over the privileges which he pos¬
sessed, temptation assailed him. Sin was present¬
ed to him in one of its most bewitching garbs, and
he yielded to the voice of the siren. He drank
wildly and deeply of the intoxicating cup, and his
draught brought madness. Reason was overthrown
and he rushed out, all his scruples overcome, care¬
less of what he did or how deeply he became im¬
mersed in the hitherto unknown sea of guilt.
The cool night air settled damp and heavy upon
his heated brow. Walking on and on, not know¬
ing or caring where he went, by-and-by strains of
music from a distance met his ear. Pretty soon,
following in the direction from which the sounds
came, he was able to distinguish the words and air
of the piece. The song was well remembered. It
278 "HOME, SWEET HOME."
was "Home, Sweet Home." Clear and sweet the
voice of some singer, using his native tongue, rose
and fell on the air; and the poor wild man stopped
and listened to the soft cadences of that beloved
melody.
Home, Sweet Home.
Motionless he stood until the last note floated
away, and he could hear nothing but the ceaseless
murmur of the great city. Then he turned away
slowly, with no feeling that his manhood was
"HOME, SWEET HOME." 279
shamed by the tear which fell as a bright evidence
of the power of song, and also as an evidence that
he, the guilty sinner, was not yet absolutely lost
beyond recall.
The demon of the wine cup had fled, and reason
once more asserted her right to control. As the
soft strains of "Home, Sweet Home" had floated
to his ear, memory brought up before him the pic¬
ture of his own £ 4 sweet home.'' He saw his gentle
mother and heard her speak, while honest pride
beamed from her eye; she seemed to speak again
of her son, in whose nobleness and honor she could
always trust. His heart smote him as he thought
how little he deserved such confidence. He remem¬
bered her last words of love and counsel, and the
tearful farewell of all those dear ones who glad¬
dened that far-away home with their presence.
The tide of remorse swept over his soul as he
thought of what the sorrow of those at home would
have been could they have seen him but an hour
before. Subdued and penitent he retraced his
steps, and with his vow never to taste of the terri¬
ble stuff that could so excite him to madness there
was mingled a deep sense of thankfulness for his
escape from further degradation. The influence
of home had protected and shielded him, although
the sea rolled between.
How strong such memories are to prevent the
commission of crime! How powerful is the spell
of home! How important, then, is it to make home
pleasant and lovable! Many a time a cheerful
280 "HOME, SWEET HOME."
home and smiling face will do more to make good
men and good women than all the learning and elo¬
quence that can be nsed. It has been said that
the sweetest words in our language are "Mother,
Home and Heaven"; and one might almost say;
that the word "Home" included the others. Who
can think of home without remembering the gen¬
tle mother who sanctified it by her presence? And
is not "Home" the dearest name for heaven? Oh,
then, may our homes on earth be as green spots in
the desert, to which we can retire when weary of
the cares of life and drink the clear waters of a
love which we know to be sincere and always un¬
failing.
EDMUND ASA WARE.
In another chapter of this book I have told you,
boys and girls, something of the story of General
S. C. Armstrong, the founder of Hampton Insti¬
tute. I am now going to tell something about an¬
other white man, who was the founder of another
great school for colored people. His name is Ed¬
mund Asa Ware, and he was the founder of At¬
lanta University. Of course you know that I must
love Atlanta University because I was graduated
there myself a long time ago; but I think that At¬
lanta University should have a warm place in the
heart of every black boy and girl in America. It
EDMUND ASA WARE.
281
lias done and is doing a great work for the higher
training of our men and women.
Mr. Ware was born in North Wrentham (now
Norfolk), Mass., December 22, 1837. When fifteen
years old he removed with his"father's family to
Norwich, Conn., where he entered the Norwich
Free Academy. In 1859 he entered Yale Univer¬
sity, from which institution he was graduated four
years later. In 1865 he went to Nashville, Tenn.,
where he served for a year as principal of one
of the newly organized public schools of that city.
In 1866 he came to Atlanta, Ga., and under the
auspices of the American Missionary Association
began the educational work to which he devoted
the rest of his life. In 1867 he was appointed
superintendent of schools for the state of Georgia
under the Freedmen's Bureau, and traveled wide¬
ly in the prosecution of that work. The same year
a charter was obtained for Atlanta University,
which institution was not opened, however, until
1869, and Mr. Ware became its first president and
continued as president until his death. He died
suddenly of heart disease September 25, 1885, in
Atlanta, and was buried September 29th in West-
view Cemetery in the suburbs of the same city.
A few years later his body was removed to the
campus of Atlanta University, where it now
sleeps. A huge granite bowlder was brought from
Massachusetts, his native state, by funds contrib¬
uted by the graduates of Atlanta University, and
282 EDMUND ASA WARE.
this bowlder, suitably inscribed, marks bis last
resting place on earth.
At the memorial services held in honor of Presi¬
dent Ware in Stone Hall, Atlanta University, De¬
cember 22, 1885, on the forty-eighth anniversary
of the birth of the dead president, Prof. Bumstead,
who is now president of Atlanta University, spoke
the following words about Mr. Ware's boyhood
and early life:
"It was a pleasant boyhood, and its joys were
innocent and wholesome ones. A white rabbit, a
goat, and two hounds were the pets with which he
played at home. He threw the line for speckled
trout in the meadow brooks, and he rowed his
boat upon the pond to gather the fragrant water-
lilies.
"It was an industrious boyhood. In summer he
gathered blueberries, huckleberries and blackber¬
ries for market. When twelve or thirteen years
old he spent his school vacations in service as a
clerk in a village store. When fourteen he culti¬
vated and harvested thirty dollars' worth of vege¬
tables.
"It was a conscientious boyhood. His mother
has no recollection of his ever being untruthful.
His village teachers all commended him for his
unvarying conformity to the right in school. It
is said that when he was fifteen years old he had
never been absent a day nor had a mark for tardi¬
ness. When serving as clerk in the village store
his employer showed him a certain article which
EDMUND ASA WARE.
283
had some defect about it, not very readily noticed,
and bade liim say nothing about it. He promptly
told his employer that he could obey no such in¬
structions.
"It was an ambitious boyhood—ambitious, of
course, in the best sense of the word. He eagerly
seized upon and improved every opportunity for
self-improvement. He read the best books and
periodicals. He heard lectures from such men as
Beecher, Phillips, Curtis, Everett and Grough.
"In the autumn of 1859 he found himself a mem¬
ber of the largest Freshman class which at that
time had ever entered Yale College. Here for the
first time I grasped the hand and looked into the
earnest eyes of my friend. I remember him in
those early college days for the unaffected mod¬
esty of his bearing, the simplicity of his dress, his
manifest hatred of all pretense and shams, his
keen sense of humor, and his dry wit. His pro¬
fessedly religious life had been begun at the Nor¬
wich Academy but a few months before he
entered college. Both in the academy and college
he was active in religious work, and his face was
set like a flint against all forms of iniquity."
Mr. Ware was married in 1869 to Miss Sarah
Jane Twichell, of Plantsville, Conn. His wife
served with him long and faithfully at Atlanta
University, and continued to serve long after he
had passed to his rest. She was left a widow with
three daughters and one son. She herself died
subsequently. The soil has since been graduated
284 EDMUND ASA WARE.
from Yale University and from Union Theological
Seminary, New York City, and is now chaplain of
Atlanta University.
Mr. "Ware was a good man who believed that
God had made of one blood all nations of men for
to dwell on the face of the earth, and that Christ
had redeemed us to God ont of every kindred,
tongue and people and nation; he believed in the
common origin and common destiny of the whole
human family, in the Fatherhood of God and the
brotherhood of man, and, therefore, recognized
no distinctions among men except those founded
on character or merit. Along with a host of pio¬
neer New England missionaries who came South
to help us shortly after the war Mr. Ware's name
deserves to be honored and revered by a grateful
people to the end of time.
AN . ANTE-BELLUM NEGRO PRE A OTTER.
Once upon a time I heard Bishop Fitzgerald of
the M. E. Church, South, tell the following story.
I give it in his own words:
"The ante-bellum negro preachers were the
product of the times, and differed from the mass of
their race only in the fact that they were shrewder
and more eloquent. Among them were many men
of piety and good sense and burning zeal. In
AN ANTE-BELLUM PREACHER. 385
"Saint Paul was a Much Better Man Dan I is, an' Dey
Whupped Him Mos' Ev'ywhar He Went."
others there was a combination of cunning, super¬
stition, excitability-' and volubility almost inde¬
scribable.
"To the former class belonged a noted negro
286 AN ANTE-BELLUM PREACHER.
preacher of Culpepper County, Va., an old man
of blameless life and venerable appearance, who
bo entirely commanded the confidence of the white
people,, and whose influence with the people of his
own race was so wholesome, that no one thought
of enforcing against him a statute then existing
which required that in any gathering where six or
more negroes were assembled a white man should
b6 present. Despite this statute Uncle Jack came
and went as he pleased, trusted by the whites and
venerated by the blacks.
"At one of his meetings a party of mischievous
young white men planned to have a little fun at
the old man's expense. "Waiting near the door of
the rustic chapel until the services were concluded
the company approached the dd preacher and its
spokesman said:
u 'Old man, we are officers of the law and are
patrolling this beat. You have violated the law,
and we are going to whip you for it. Come along
with us.'
'' They led the way to the thicket near at hand.
Uncle Jack followed in silence.
" 'Have you nothing to say, old man?' asked
the spokesman.
" 'Nothin', Marstah,' said Uncle Jack.
" 'Perhaps you don't think that we really in¬
tend to whip you,' said the young man, 'but we
will. Have you nothing to say to that ?'
" 'No, sah,' said Uncle Jack; 'I has nothin' to
say. De fac' is, Marstah, I has oftened wondar'd
AN ANTE-BELLUM PREACHER. 287
that I has nevali been whupped befo \ Saint Paul
was a much bettah man dan I is, an' dey whupped
him 'mos' ev 'ywhar he went. I has preached much
longah dan he did, an' I has nevah got a whuppin/
in my life. It seems to me dat I ought to have at
leas' a few licks!'
"The young scapegraces looked at each other
in confusion, and it is needless to say that Unci©
Jack was not whipped."
Lxxxni.
PURITY OF CHAKACTEK.
Boys and girls, if you will take a plum or an ap¬
ricot you will find that over the outer coat of either
one of them there glows a bloom more beautiful
than the fruit itself—a soft, delicate powder that
overspreads its rich colors. Now, if you strike
your hand over that you will find that the bloom
will at ohce depart, and when it goes it is gone
forever. It only appears once. You go out into
the flower garden early in the morning. The flower
that hangs there impearled with dew, like so many
jewels—you shake it once, so that the drops or
beads will roll off. You take that same flower,
after the dew has been shaken off, and you may
sprinkle water over it as you please, yet it can
never be made again what it was when the dew fell
on it so gently from heaven. Again, on a frosty
288 PURITY OF CHARACTER,
morning, you may see the panes of glass covered
with landscapes, mountains, lakes and trees, blend¬
ed into a fantastic picture. Now, lay your hand
upon the glass and by the scratch of your finger
or by the warmth of the palm; all the delicate trac¬
ery will be obliterated—all the beautiful picture
will vanish, and you could not reproduce it, al¬
though you tried for a hundred years. Once wiped
out, the picture on the glass is wiped out forever.
So there is in youth a purity of character which,
when once touched and defiled, can never be re¬
stored—a fringe more delicate than frostwork or
the dew on the flowers or the bloom on the plum
or apricot. Character is a thing which, when once
stained, can never be again what it Was. When a
young boy or girl leaves the home of his or her
parents, with the blessing of a mother's tears
upon the cheek or the blessing of a father's hand
upon the head, if earthly purity of character be
once lost it is a loss that can never be made up
again. Though by God's mercy the sin may be
forgiven, yet its effects cannot but be in some way
felt, and the boy or girl will never be what he or
she was before.
EACH OF US OF IMPORTANCE. 289
LXXXIY.
Never think yourself, whoever yon are, of small
importance. Never think that it is of little account
whether you are good or bad, or what your exam¬
ple is to others. Each mere particle of dust, every
tiny grain of sand, the minutest atom, is an active
agent in the whole universe. So each one of us is
of importance in our sphere, however isolated and
insignificant that sphere may appear to be.
A few particles of dust in a watch will stop its
motion; small barnacles on a ship's bottom will
hinder its journey; and a little shifting sand in the
great river will change its current. So, little boys
and girls exercise their influence for weal or woe
upon the world. Don't you believe for once that
the world is moved only by the great forces, the
great men and the great enterprises. Little folks
and little things likewise help to move the world
along. Great generals are necessary; but what
would they be without the soldiers behind them?
Every boy has his part to do in the great work
290 EACH OF US OF IMPORTANCE.
of the world, and every girl has her part to do.
Every boy and girl is of importance; how impor¬
tant nobody knows, and perhaps never shall know
until eternity reveals it. There ought to be in
this truth great encouragement and great comfort
to all who think that they are insignificant and
have no work to do in this busy world. Perhaps
in the distant future many a man who estimated
himself great shall be found to have been insignifi¬
cant, because of unfaithfulness to his trust; and
many another man who perhaps thought himself
of little worth will find himself glorified because
he did what he could.
LXXXV.
Poetry is more than
verse-making, m ore
than the jingle of words,
more than the sing-song
of meter.
Sunshine and flowers,
brightness and joyousness, the harmonies of the
passions and the inspiration of love—these are
the poetry of life.
THE POETRY OF LIFE.
291
Without poetry, life is a tread-mill; a veil of
tears; a dreary waste. Even religion is only a cru¬
cifixion—a death to sin—if we have not the resur¬
rection into the new life of joy.
Many of us make hard work of life by bending
our backs too much. We get dirt in our eyes by
keeping them too near the dust, and we get nar¬
row-minded and selfish by our narrow radius of
vision.
To become truly rich we must stand in the dig¬
nity of our manhood; walk in the integrity of our
calling; and run in the rhythm of a poetic nature.
Out of harmony is out of sphere. The dignity, in¬
tegrity and poetry of life are all lost by inhar-
mony; only the ashes of disappointment are left;
but with these we can dance at our work, and turn
irksome duties into joyous privileges. Instead of
moping in the valley of the shadow of death, we
may live in the sunshine, where beautiful flowers
and luscious fruits and delicious sweets grow.
Yes; yes; we might as well live in light as in
darkness; make life a joyful song as a funeral
dirge; live amid glory as shame. With a radiant
countenance, a beaming eye, and a loving hand, we
can do more work and have more to do; we can
get more out of life and have more life to enjoy;
we can scatter more sunshine and have more left
for ourselves.
Christ came to bring to every toiler, heaven.
Let us get into it quickly. It is here—and here
only—that we find the poetry of life.
292 ON BEING- IN EARNEST.
LXXXVL
ON BEING IN EARNEST.
Of ten men who fail in life, nine men fail for
want of zeal, earnestness, courage, where one man
fails for want of ability. This half-heartedness,
this lack of zeal, this timidity, this shrinking from
duty and hard tasks is seen on all sides and among
all' classes. But I tell you, boys and girls, that
the least enviable people in all the world are those
who think that nothing is particularly worth
while, that it does not matter much how a thing
is done if it is only done with; who dwaddle along
in a shabby sort of a way, considering only their
own ease, with little sense of responsibility, and
with no shame in being shirks. Every boy should
make up his mind to live a round, full, earnest, in¬
tense life. Every girl should do the same. Don't
be satisfied, boys and girls, to be jellyfishes, with
only a capacity for drawing in nourishment and
lingering on until your time comes to die. Be
vertebrates, people of backbone, purpose, aim, en¬
thusiasm, earnestness.
At a. public dinner President Koosevelt asked
Governor Odell of New York if he knew anything
worth doing that was not hard in the doing, and
the governor could think of nothing. As a rule
perhaps there is nothing, and yet things once hard
in the doing become easy as skill is gained by rep-
ON BEING IN EARNEST.
293
etition. Be in earnest, be faithful and resolute,
and it will act like a tonic, giving light to the eyes,
springiness to the step, and buoyancy to the heart.
Don't be overcome by your circumstances. No
matter how distracting a
man's surroundings may be,
he may yet be able to focus
his powers completely and to
marshal them with certainty
if he makes up his
mind to do it. If
things go hard with
the self-mastered man or boy,
he will be able to trample upon
difficulties and to use his stum¬
bling-blocks as stepping-stones.
If a great misfortune overtake
him he will simply use it as a starting
point for a new departure, a turning
point for more determined effort. He
may be weighed down with sorrow
and suffering, but he always starts
anew with redoubled- determination
to do the thing he has set his heart
upon doing. He will not be discour¬
aged; he will not give up; he will fight it out to
the end. Put him in prison, and he will write the
"Pilgrim's Progress." Deprive him of his eye¬
sight and he will write the "Paradise Lost."
Being in
Earnest.
294 ON BEING IN EARNEST.
It was the spirit of earnestness which fired the
soul of Martin Luther at the Diet of Worms, who,
after being urged to recant, said: "Here I stand;
I can do no other; God help me!" It was this
spirit which characterized William Lloyd Garri¬
son, the champion of the abolition of slavery, who,
when he was urged to stop fighting slavery, ex¬
claimed: "I will not equivocate, I will not re¬
tract, I will not be moved one inch, and I will be
heard.'' So be in earnest, boys and girls, at home,
at school, at work and at play. It will help you
a thousand-fold.
LXXXVIL
YOUNG PEOPLE AND LIFE INSURANCE.
Every little boy and girl, and, of course, every
man and woman, of the colored race in America
should .carry a life insurance policy of some kind
in some reliable company. In this matter the old
people, as in some other things, ought to set the
example for the young, but there are some reasons,
growing chiefly out of their previous condition of
slavery, why our mothers and fathers have not, as
a rule, taken very largely to the business of having
their lives insured. But because our parents have
been negligent in this matter there is no reason
why the younger generation should be. Life insur¬
ance is a good thing, boys and girls—one of the
YOUNG PEOPLE AND INSURANCE. 295
best things in the world. American life insurance
companies alone pay to policy-holders or estates of
policy-holders over one hundred million dollars
annually. Only a very small and almost insignifi¬
cant portion of this vast sum goes into the hands
Taking Out a Policy.
of colored people, and for the reason that very few
colored people carry life insurance policies.
Now use a little common sense about this mat¬
ter. Whatever is good in life insurance for other
races is good for our race; whatever in life insur¬
ance benefits other races will benefit our race. In
296 YOUNG PEOPLE AND INSURANCE.
business as in education, whatever is good for a
white man is good for a black man. I would,
therefore, urge every boy and girl to join a life in¬
surance company, and where your mothers and
fathers are not insured I would urge you to do
your utmost to persuade them to join at once.
For one reason, a life insurance policy is not ex¬
pensive. You might as well talk of the expense of
buying bank stock, or the expense of putting your
money into a savings bank or any other safe place
as to speak of the expense of keeping up a life
insurance policy. It is accumulation and not ex¬
pense. Every dollar put into life insurance is a
dollar saved to yourself or your estate.
For another reason life insurance is a good busi¬
ness investment. Carefully collected statistics on
file in Washington City prove that investments
in life insurance are much safer and yield much
larger returns than money placed in a savings
bank. "When you are older you will perhaps be
able to make these comparisons for yourself. For
the present you can take my word for it.
A third reason, life insurance is cheap. You can
in an instant create a capital of $1,000, though you
may be ever so poor, by laying aside only a few
cents a week. Young people chew up and drink
up and smoke up and frolic up more money every
week than would be sufficient to protect them
against the rainy days,that must come to every¬
body.
And, then, life insurance has a character value.
YOUNG PEOPLE AND INSURANCE. 297
It makes a young man a better man; it makes a
young woman a better woman; that is to say, it
makes them more economical, more business-like,
happier, and, I believe, it will make them live
longer.
It is high time that black boys and girls were
learning these things and acting upon them. When
God commanded us not to serve money as a false
god He did not say that money could not serve us,
and I beseech the boys and girls, and the old peo¬
ple too, to exercise the same foresight and the
same good sense about life insurance that other
races exercise.
lxxxviii.
THE LITTLE SAILOR CAT.
In September, 1893, grouped on the Fall River
Line pier at the foot of Warren Street, New York,
there stood a party of twenty-three sailors wait¬
ing for the Puritan to take them on to Boston. The
central figure in the group—a short, thickset man,
with bronzed and grizzled moustache—-stood erect
with arms folded over his chest. Upon the solid
foundation thus made nestled a little white kitten.
The man and the kitten were the Boston contingent
of the crew of the steamship City of Savannah,
which had been wrecked the week before on Hunt¬
ing Island, off the South Carolina coast.
The story of the beaching of the steamship and
298 THE LITTLE SAILOR CAT.
of the taking off of her crew by the City of Birm¬
ingham had been told in all the newspapers, but
nothing had been said about the cat, so the Boston
Herald said. Before the shipwreck the cat was
nothing more than an ordinary ship's cat, and the
captain had named him Mascot; but that was the
end of his distinction. After the disaster, never¬
theless, all the sailors swore that the kitten was as
good a sailor as any of them.
'4He's a wonder," said the short, thickset man,
surveying the cat proudly; "nobody thought of
him in the rush, but he got there just the same.
He climbed the rigging
in that gale like an old
tar and held on for
hours. He wasn't a bit
frightened either. Only
he would 4 caterwaul'
when he got hungry.
We were on board of the boat fifty hours after
she struck before the sea was such that we could
be taken off in boats. At night the captain
ordered all the crew into the rigging and made us
stay there. We each took a piece of rope and
lashed ourselves on, so as to keep from falling
off when asleep. That's what the captain said the
string was for, but I never slept at all. I don't
think many others did. The cat got along without
any rope, and she was there in the morning all
right. When we got away at last, nearly crazy
with thirst and so faint that we could hardly
The Little Sailor Cat.
THE LITTLE SAILOR CAT. 299
climb down the 'Jacob's ladder' into the Birm¬
ingham's boats, that little fellow climbed out of
his nest in the rigging and wanted to go too. We
were glad to take him."
LXXXIX.
1. Be punctual and regular at all the services
of your church.
2. Give close attention to the pastor in the pub¬
lic service. Good hearers make good preachers.
3. Whenever you are aided by a sermon tell
the pastor about it. In this way you will help him
more than you think possible.
300 ADVICE TO LITTLE CHRISTIANS.
4. Do not neglect morning and evening prayer
at home. Pray daily for God's blessing upon tlie
preaching and other labors of the pastor.
5. In the world let your light so shine before
others that they may be led to glorify your Father
which is in heaven. Let your light shine.
6. Invite your friends to attend divine serv¬
ices. A drawing congregation is as good as a
drawing preacher. Call for your friends often.
7. Eemember day by day that you are not your
own, but have been '' bought with a price," and
that you are Christ's servant. Watch and pray.
8. If any service is required of you in the
church or in the Sunday school, do not shirk it;
always say: "I will try for Jesus' sake."
9. In the prayer meeting speak briefly and to
the point. If you pray, ask only for what you
want. Be short and direct. "Ask and ye shall
receive."
10. Never subscribe more than you are able to
pay, and be sure to pay whatever you promise.
Whether much or little, give it cheerfully. 11 God
loveth a cheerful giver."
11. Having found eternal life, use all appropri¬
ate means to develop Christian character. Prayer,
reading the Bible, attending church and Sunday
school, reading good books and Christian news¬
papers, keeping the best company—all these will
help you.
A WORD TO PARENTS. 301
xc.
A WORD TO PARENTS.
Children are a gift from God. Children are a
heritage from the Lord. It depends largely on par¬
ents whether they become a heritage of honor and
delight or of sorrow and shame. It is not simply
incumbent upon parents that their children be
A Word to Parents.
well cared for, fed and clothed, properly educated
and so forth; but more than this, they are to be
brought up 1'in the nurture and admonition of the
Lord." This being true, then, the highest aim of
rearing children is not simply that they may win
success and command respect in the world. Re¬
spect and success are greatly to be desired and
sought, but beyond them and beyond everything
302
A WORD TO PARENTS.
else is the highest and chiefest aim of parental love
and care; that their children may honor and com¬
mand the righteousness of God in the life that now
is and magnify the glory of God in the life that is
to be. This is the mark and prize of their high
calling.
Admitting this, then, the early conversion of
children is all-important. But if they are to be
early converted, is it not wise—nay, absolutely es¬
sential—that mothers and fathers prepare the way
by restricting their natural impulses by which
they are led to desire indulgence in the gay van¬
ities of life 1 Is it not positively wrong for parents
to indulge that pernicious and destructive delu¬
sion, which some allow, of permitting their chil¬
dren to have their own evil way in the hope that
in due time they will in some way see their error
and turn to the right path of their own accord?
Father, you are a Christian. Mother, you are a
Christian. Now, in your home, in the management
of your children, are you doing the best you can
to show what a Christian family should be ? How
is it, my friends f I leave that question with you.
XCI.
!A HELPFUL MESSAGE.
Life is too short to spend any time on a book
that is not worth reading; but when you read a
good book you will be richly repaid if you stick
A HELPFUL MESSAGE.
303
a sort of mental pin in sentences that especially
impress you and return to them again and again.
If the book is your own, it is sometimes helpful
to mark it neatly here and there, and to copy some
of the nuggets of thoughts. In that way you help
to fasten them in your brain, and perhaps to en¬
graft their meaning upon your lives. From a book
of the writings and speeches of a New York
preacher, Dr. Maltbie D. Babcock, who went a year
or two ago to "the better land," I have culled the
following sentences that hold, I think, a helpful
message for boys and girls as well as for old peo¬
ple.
"Look out for your choices. They run into con¬
duct; character, destiny.
'' To make the best of things is the right way to
let things make the best of you.
"Pay as little attention to discouragement as
possible. This is the only world in which a Chris¬
tian can suffer.
"Whenever you feel blue remember that God
loves you and think up some kindness, if no more
than sending a flower to some one or writing a
note.
"If you can Jielp anybody, even a little, be glad.
"Do not let the good things of life rob you of
the best things.
"What have you done today that none but a
Christian would dol"
304 THE UNSEEN CHAEMER.
xcn.
THE UNSEEN CHARMER.
Carl Brickermann, a collection clerk in an up¬
town bank, in his accustomed daily routine found
it necessary, among other things, to call by tele¬
phone the downtown brokerage firm of Hopegood
& Co. One day he missed the familiar feminine
voice which had usually responded to his calls.
But the new voice seemed sweeter and much more
passionately penetrating. For two or three days
Brickermann was puzzled, not only because of the
change at the other end of the 'phone, but also
because of the strange and unaccountable fascina¬
tion which the new voice possessed for him. At
length one day, almost in desperation, he turned
aside, from his regular business inquiries to ask:
"Where's the other girl?"
i' Which other girl f'' asked the mellifluous voice
over the articulate wire.
'' The one who used to answer the 'phone for the
Hopegoods," explained Brickermann.
"Promoted," came the response, with a merry
little laugh.
"And you have her old place?" asked Bricker¬
mann, somewhat encouraged.
"Yes; for awhile," said the same still, small
voice at the other end, and it sounded more and
more sweetly to the would-be masher.
THE UNSEEN CHARMER.
305
"Well," said Brickermann, laughing the while,
"I Used to know her quite well, and I should like
to meet you face to face, if you don't mind. I am
so charmed with the music of your voice I am sure
"Is—EE— EK—Mb, Hopegood in?"
I should be perfectly entranced with the magic of
your face."
A merry peal of laughter from the other end
greeted this sally. The young man continued:
"I used to come down some days about four
306 THE UNSEEN CHARMER.
o'clock to see Margie. Will you, my Unseen
Charmer, grant me the same high favor?"
'1 Why, certainly! Come any day," answered
the sweet voice which had so strangely bewitched
the young man. In ecstasy .Brickermann shouted
back:
"I'll be down this afternoon."
Brickermann hung up the receiver, and, chuck¬
ling with delight, he turned to his other duties
with the alacrity that a young spring chicken dis¬
plays when it suddenly discovers a big fat worm.
By three-thirty o'clock he had arranged his
toilet, and stood before the mirror giving the fin¬
ishing twirl to his budding moustache. He brushed
his clothing the second time, brushed his hat, and,
figuratively speaking, arrayed in purple and fine
linen, he sallied forth. He boarded an elevated
train bound for the downtown district. On his
way down he tried to picture to himself the kind
of a girl he should meet at the Hopegoods. Would
she be tall or short of stature? Blonde or brunette?
Above twenty-one years of age or only sweet six¬
teen? The quick arrival of the train at Park Place
put a period to Brickermann's reverie. He went
tripping across a few blocks to the place where all
of his hopes had been centered during the past few
hours—in fact, days. Arrived there, he stepped
into the front office where "Margie" had former¬
ly presided. It was the same snug and cosy room,
but he failed to behold there the eagerly expected
young lady. Instead he ran amuck a chubby little
THE UNSEEN CHARMER. 307
boy, with a ruddy face and curly hair, and per¬
haps not more than fourteen or fifteen years old,
sitting in "Margie's" place.
Brickermann was visibly embarrassed. He did
not know where to begin or what to say. He
twitched nervously at the glove which he carried
in his hand, and finally he stammered:
"Is-er-Mr. Hopegood in?"
11 No, sir,'' said the boy. '' Can I be of any serv¬
ice to you?"
Brickermann's face turned blood red, and great
drops of perspiration stood out upon his forehead.
The accents of the little boy startled him, for they
were the same that had been wafted to him almost
daily along the wire and with which he thought
he had been enamored. In the midst of his con¬
fusion he managed to say, hoping almost against
hope that his identity had not been discovered:
*'Well, er—er—I'll call again."
And, without waiting to hear the Unseen Charm¬
er speak again, he hastily retired with as good
grace as was possible under the circumstances.
xcni.
OUE COUNTRY.
Boys and girls, we are all American citizens,
the last one of us. This is our country, as much
as it is the country of any other race, and we
308
OUR COUNTRY.
should love it and fight for it as our fathers have
loved, fought and died for it on many a battle¬
field. We may be the descendants of Africans, but
we are citizens of the United States. This is our
home—our country. Let us believe it, in spite of
what some foolish people say. Therefore I am go¬
ing to give you one or two sentiments which you
should learn early in life in order to stimulate
your patriotism.
1. May the honor of our country be without
Stain.
2. May the glory of America never cea^e to
shine.
3. May every American manfully withstand
corruption.
4. May reverence for the laws ever predom¬
inate in the hearts of the American people.
5. The sons and daughters of America, may
their union be cemented by love and affection, and
their offspring adorn the stations they are des¬
tined to fill.
6. May the growth of the American union
never be prevented by party spirit.
7. The boys of America, may they be strong
and virtuous, manly and brave.
8. The girls of America, may they prove to be
such in heart and life as will make them worthy
mothers of a strong and noble race.
9. Health to our president, prosperity to our
OUR COUNTRY.
309
people, and may Congress direct its endeavors to
the public good.
10.-
May Peace o 'er America spread her wing,
And Commerce fill her ports with gold;
May Arts and Science comfort bring,
And Liberty her sons enfold.
XCIY.
THE "DON'T-CARE" GIRL.
About the worst girl in all this world is the girl
who doesn't care what people think or say about
her conduct; the girl who goes to every "hop," to
every party, who stays out late at night with the
boys, who hangs over the gate and talks to them,
and who cuts a number of foolish capers, and then
when any one speaks to her, shoots her head 'way
up in the air, and turns up her nose, if she can, and
says boldly: "Oh, I don't care; nobody has any¬
thing to do with me!" She is the worst girl in
the world, and she will never come to any good
end. Every girl who is a law unto herself in re¬
gard to all that she says or does is certain not
only to bring upon herself the condemnation of
those whose good opinion it is worth while to
have, but she will most certainly incur the pun¬
ishment of a just God. And sometimes, I am sorry
to say, I think that when a girl proudly declares
that she doesn't care for the good opinion of others
310 TI-IE "DON'T-CARE" GIRL.
she does so because she knows that she has
already lost all right to that good opinion.
It is wrong, boys and girls, to undertake to run
roughshod over the so-called prejudices of the pub-
The "Don't-Care" Girl.
lie. It is a foolish thing to take delight in trying
to shock people by your boisterous and unladylike
and unbecoming conduct. Every really wise and
nice girl does care a good deal for the good opin-
THE "DON'T-CARE" GIRL. 311
ion of others, and particularly for the good opin¬
ion of persons older than she is. She recognizes
the fact that the laws of conventionality and of
good society are based upon what is right and
what is proper, and that no girl can with propriety
set them at naught.
Some girls go so far as to say vthat they 4'don't
care" what their own fathers and mothers think.
The wild girl who says this is setting at defiance
not only the human parental law, but also the law
of God, which plainly commands children to obey
their parents.
Haven't you ever seen a *1 don't-care" girl? She
is nearly always reckless in manner and speech;
she is bold and defiant; she is impudent beyond
mention; and she is very fond of ridiculing1 girls
who do care a great deal what others think about
them.
No matter whose children they are—no matter
what schools they have attended—these "don't-
care" girls are no good, and good girls ought not
to associate with them. Every day such flippant
girls are treading on dangerous ground, and some
day, unless a merciful God prevents it, she will
come to open disgrace and die and go to torment.
I am hoping to see the day when all the "don't-
care" girls will have passed out of existence, and
then all our girls will be of the refined and woman¬
ly kind who do care a great deal about their con¬
duct, their manners and their morals. I don't
want my daughter to associate with any other
kind.
312
NEGRO HEROES.
xcv.
negro heroes.
No true history of the American continent can
be written without giving due credit to the part
which.brave negro men have played on the field of
battle in the defense of liberty. At the head of the
list of great negro soldiers stands unquestionably
Toussaint L'Ouverture, the emancipator of Hayti,
the little republic to the south of the Island of
Cuba. This black hero, who never saw a soldier
until he was fifty years old, crossed swords with
the great Napoleon, who is said to be the greatest
general the world has ever known, and he outwit¬
ted that great warrior. Wendell Phillips in a
great oration places the name of Toussaint at the
head of the list of all the world's great leaders
and statesmen, above the name of even our own
George Washington.
Next comes Crispus Attucks, who was killed in
the Boston massacre on the night of March 5,1770.
His blood was the first blood shed in the cause of
American independence. John Adams and Daniel
Webster both date the beginning of American in¬
dependence from that terrible massacre. Later on
when the Revolutionary War came the negro
played a valiant part and many individuals won
just fame. For instance, Peter Salem and Salem
Poor both distinguished themselves at the battle
NEGRO HEROES.
313
of Bunker Hill, and at other points. To-day a
monument stands on Boston Common erected in
honor of Crispus Attucks, Peter Salem, Salem
Poor, Samuel Maverick and James Caldwell.
All the boys and girls now living know about
Negro Heroes.
the heroism of Antonio Maceo in behalf of the
freedom of Cuba, and how that brave general laid
down his life for his own people shortly before
the United States in 1898 took up arms in defense
of Cuban liberty and drove the Spanish tyrants
314
NEGRO HEROES.
out. Of course there were many colored soldiers
who took notable parts in the work done by our
country during that short and decisive war. It
is even claimed on good authority that the black
soldiers saved the regiment of Rough Riders,
which was commanded by the intrepid Colonel
Roosevelt who afterwards became governor of
New York and president of the United States.
But before the Spanish-American War the
negroes had given good account of themselves on
many a well-fought field—in the war of 1812 and
again in the great Civil "War. In the Civil War,
which resulted in the restoration of the Union and
the freedom of the slaves, there were 186,000 col¬
ored soldiers. To-day a monument stands on Bos¬
ton Common, also, in memory of the Fifty-fourth
Massachusetts Regiment of United States soldiers.
This was a colored regiment, which was com¬
manded by a gallant white man named Robert
Gould Shaw. He and a large proportion of his
command were killed at Fort Wagner, S. C., in
July, 1863.
In the Civil War we were not allowed to have
our own officers, all the officers being white. In
the Spanish-American War this was changed, and
we had over two hundred officers, including some
as high as colonels and two paymasters with the
rank of majors. When another war comes we are
going to have some generals as well as colonels
and captains and majors. Some of the little boys
who are reading these words may be called on to
NEGRO HEROES.
315
render this higher service for the country and the
race". I hope, boys, if it should be so, that you will
be prepared to give as good an account of your
stewardship as those who have gone before. I
hope you will learn a good deal about the lives of
the great heroes above named, and about others
whom I cannot stop to mention now. In this way
you will gain inspiration for the future.
XCVI.
FREDERICK DOUGLASS TO YOUNG
PEOPLE.
Shortly before he died Frederick Douglass made
a tour through the South. Among other places he
visited Atlanta University. At that place he made
an address to the young people. It is so full of
hope and help that I wanted to place it where
every ambitious black boy and girl in America
can see it. It has never been published before,
except in the Bulletin of Atlanta University. Mr.
Douglass said:
'' My young friends: I see before me an assem¬
blage of young people, full of the blood of youth,
just entering upon the voyage of life. It is an in¬
teresting spectacle to me, as to us all, to meet such
an assembly as I see before me this morning in
an institution of learning, of knowledge, and of
ethics and of Christian graces. I experience great
316 DOUGLASS TO YOUNG PEOPLE.
pleasure in what I see to-day. There is no language
to describe my feelings. It was no mere image
that John saw and described in the apocalypse.
It was a new heaven and a new earth indeed. When
I look back upon the time when I was a fugitive
slave I recollect the evils and cruelty of slave-
DOUGLASS TO YOUNG PEOPLE! 317
hunting. No mountain was so high, no valley was
so deep, no glen so secluded, no place so sacred to
liberty that I could put my foot upon it and say
I was free! But now I am free! Contrasting my
condition then and now the change exceeds what
John saw upon the isle of Patmos. A change vast
and wonderful, that came by the fulfilling of laws.
We got freed by laws, marvellous in our eyes. Men,
brave men, good men, who had the courage of
their convictions, were arrested and subjected to
persecutions, mobs, lawlessness, violence. They
had the conviction of truth. Simple truth lasts
forever!
1' Be not discouraged. There is a future for you
and a future for me. The resistance encountered
now predicates hope. The negro degraded, in¬
dolent, lazy, indifferent to progress, is not objec¬
tionable to the average public mind. Only as we
rise in the scale of proficiency do we encounter
opposition. "When we see a ship that lies rotting
in the harbor, its seams yawning, its sides broken
in, taking water and sinking, it meets with no op¬
position; but when its sails are spread to the
breeze, its top-sails and its royals flying, then there
is resistance. The resistance is in proportion to
its speed. In Memphis three negro men were
lynched, not because they were low and degraded,
but because they knew their business and other
men wanted their business.
"I am delighted to see you all. Don't be des¬
pondent. Don't measure your selves from the white
318 DOUGLASS TO YOUNG PEOPLE.
man's standpoint; but measure yourselves by the
depths from which you have come. I measure
from these depths, and I see what Providence has
done. Daniel "Webster said in his speech at the
dedication of Bunker Hill monument: 'Bunker Hill
monument is completed. There it stands, a me¬
morial of the past, a monitor of the present, a
hope of the future. It looks, speaks, acts!' So
this assembly is a monitor of the present, a memo¬
rial of the past, a hope of the future. I see boys
and girls around me. Boys, you will be men some
day. Girls, you wrill be women some day. May
you become good men and women, intelligent men
and women, a credit to yourselves and your coun¬
try.
"I thank you for what I have experienced to-
iday and I leave you reluctantly, and shall always
carry with me the pleasantest impressions of this
occasion."
xcvn.
TOO HIGH A DAM.
Once upon a time a criminal, sentenced to a
twenty-year term of punishment, declared that his
ruin was due to the fact that too high a "dam"
had been built around his early life.
He was a boy on a farm, the son of strict par¬
ents, who never unbent into friends and comrades,
[but had iron ideas of parental duty along the lines
TOO HIGH A DAM.
319
of restraints, and gave large doses of the cate¬
chism and the Ten Commandments, interspersed
with much fault-finding and complaints of the
waywardness of boys in general and their own boy
in particular.
As a consequence the boy chafed against the
1 'high dam," burst its bounds early and came to
the city with a zest for freedom in proportion to
the restraint he had undergone and an admiration
for a fast life. This was by way of reaction from
his disgust for the farm and its slow ways.
"Don't build your dams too high," was the
brief sermon preached by this condemned criminal
and directed to parents—especially those who are
rearing children in the country or in small towns.
Human nature will continue to be human nature,
and boys will continue to be boys. Youth will long,
and naturally so, for variety and amusement. The
house in which parents never unbend in sympathy
with their children's longing for a little brightness
and jollity, where work goes on in unretrieved
monotony, and home means only a place to sleep
and eat in—such a home sends its boys and girls
to the city before they are panoplied to meet its
temptations; either this, or else it hardens and
saddens them into mere machines or beasts of bur¬
den.
Books, music, flowers, games, social clubs, cheer¬
ful pictures, love and sympathy—these will bind
the young heart to home and right living and will
obviate the necessity of the "high dams" of re¬
straint.
320
A GOOD FELLOW.
xcvm.
A GOOD FELLOW.
He was a good fellow.
He spent his money like a Prince.
There was nothing too good for him to do for
those with whom he kept company.
He lived rapidly, and had no thought of to-mor¬
row. He burned the candle of life at both ends.
To-day he is dead,—and those vampires who
sucked his life's blood and helped him to spend his
money have no time to give him one thought.
Ah, how insincere and empty is the title of
"good fellow" when it is applied to the man whose
money is always on tap for those who are desirous
of having a good time! And how corrupt and un¬
desirable are the so-called friendships which'
spring from a lavish expenditure of money! Boys,1
the roof over your heads covers the best friends
you could possibly have on earth. Those who slap
you on the shoulder and say hilariously, "Good
boy!" are seldom ever worth their salt. They like
you for what they can get out of you—that's all!
Real happiness in this world comes, if at all,
from living right and doing right. If you are a
good fellow in the sense of giving everybody a
"good time" with your hard-earned means, I
warn you that, when your money gives out, all
your friends will desert you, and when you die
A GOOD FELLOW.
321
they will be the last ones to come near you, and
may even laugh at what a fool you made of your¬
self!
tXCIX.
THE FUTURE OF THE NEGRO.
My dear "boys and girls, I have written nearly
one hundred stories for this book and I have not!
said one word about the so-called Eace Problem.
I have done this on purpose. I believe that the less
you think about the troubles of the race and the
less you talk about them and the more time you
spend in hard and honest work, believing in God
and trusting him for the future, the better it will
be for all concerned. I know, of course, that thes
sufferings which are inflicted upon the colored
people in this country are many and grievous. I
know that we are discriminated against in many;
ways—on common carriers, in public resorts and
even in private life. The right to vote is being
taken away from us in nearly all the Southern
states. Lynchings are on the increase. Not only
our men but our women also are being burned ati
the stake. What shall we do? There are those
who say that we must strike back—use fire and
torch and sword and shotgun ourselves. But I tell
you plainly that we cannot afford to do that. The
white people have all the courts, all the railroads,
322 rTHE FUTURE OF THE NEGRO.
all the newspapers, all the telegraph wires, all the
arms and ammunition and double the men that we
have. In every race riot the negro would get the
worst of it finally. But there is a higher reason
than that. We cannot afford to do wrong. We
cannot afford to lose our decency, our self-respect,
our character. No man will ever be the superior
of the man he robs; no man will ever be the
superior of the man he steals from. I would rather
be a victim than a victimizer. I would rather be
wronged than to do wrong. And no race is
superior to the race it tramples upon, robs, mal¬
treats and murders. In spite of prejudice; in spite
of proscription; in spite of nameless insults and
injuries, we cannot as a race, afford to do wrong.
But we can afford to be patient. God is
not dead. His chariots are not unwheeled.
It is ordained of God that races, as well
as individuals, shall rise through tribulations.
And during this period of stress and strain
through which we are passing in this country I
believe that there are unseen forces marshalled in
the defense of our long-suffering and much-op¬
pressed people. "They that be with us are more
than they that be with them." What should we
care, then, though all the lowlands be filled with
threats, if the mountains of our hope and cour¬
age and patience are filled with horses and
chariots of Divine rescue?
THE TRAINING OF CHILDREN. 323
C
THE TRAINING OE CHILDREN.
My last- words shall be to parents. Many par¬
ents neglect the training of their children until
the boys and girls have grown to be almost men
and women, and then they expect all at once to
develop them into well-rounded characters, as if
by magic. Others fix upon a definite time in life—
say, ten or twelve years old—before which time
they say it is unnecessary to seek to make lasting
impressions upon the minds of children, all uncon¬
scious of the fact that the character may have
been long before that period biased for good or
evil.
I say it deliberately—it is a deep and abiding
conviction with me, that the time to begin to
shape the character of children is as soon as they
begin to know their own mothers from other
mothers, or as soon as they become awake to the
events which are taking place around them. The
farmer who has the notion that his child can wait,
does not dare to let his corn and cotton wait. He
has observed that there are noxious weeds which
spring up side by side with the seed he has
planted, and, marvelous to say, the weeds out¬
grow the plants. They must, therefore, be cut
down and kept down, or else they will ruin the
crop.
324 THE TRAINING OF CHILDREN.
Side by side with your tender babe in arms
there are growing now, dear mothers, the poison¬
ous tares. They are rooted already in the child's
heart, and, unless they are stricken down pretty
soon, they will dominate the child's life. And, of
course, there is only one way to destroy evil—that
is, to plant good in its stead. If there is one un¬
tenanted chamber in your child's heart, inhabit
it, I pray you, with nobler and purer thoughts
which before long shall bring forth fruit unto
God. Satan does not wait, I assure you; he never
allows a vacancy to remain unoccupied in any¬
body's heart, old or young. He rushes into empty
hearts and idle lives and sows tares thicker than
the strewn leaves of autumn. It is an old and
senseless and barbarian custom which has taught
us that the child can wait-or must wait. If any¬
body must wait at table to be served, it is usually
the little child, who may be the hungriest of all;
if some one must remain away from church or
Sunday-school, it is often the youngest child, who
perhaps needs most to go; if some one must be
kept out of the day-school, it is the smallest child,
of course; and during the year that he remains
idle he may receive impressions and learn lessons
that will mar his whole future life. Let us have
done with this barbaric practice. Make'room for
the children; give them not only the first place but
the best place.
In almost any city in the South any Sunday in
the year yora will find more children—more boys
THE TRAINING OF CHILDREN. 325
and girls—outside of the Sunday-schools than yon
will find inside. There is a loud and crying call
sounding from the past and from the future and
bidding mothers and fathers to be more diligent
in the matter of having their children embrace
opportunities of growth and spiritual culture
which are almost within a stone's throw. If
mothers and fathers will not hear and1 obey this
clarion call I believe that they will be brought to
account for it in the day of judgment. Not only
so, but in the years to come they will be compelled
to wail out their sorrow over prodigal sons and
daughters who might have proven to be orna¬
ments to society and to the church if their parents
had devoted half the care upon them that they
expended upon colts and calves, kittens and pup¬
pies that grew up with them!
In all earnestness I implore those to whom God
has given winsome little children to begin early,
as early as thy find it possible, to train their
young lives for God and heaven. Let their little
voices learn early to lisp the precious name of
Jesus and be attuned to sing His praise. If you
leave them this legacy—than which there is none
greater—there will come peace and joy to your
old age, and the light of heaven, like the golden
glow of a radiant sunset, will rest on your dying
bed.
And now, as I close these stories, there comes to
me across the intervening space of silence and of
itears fond memories of a sweet and patient
326 THE TRAINING OF CHILDREN.
mother. I cannot remember when she began to
talk to me of Jesus nor read to me the word of
God. I remember well when she taught me how to
read, and the old-fashioned blue back spelling-
book is as plainly before me now as in those long
past days. But, long before that, I had heard her
read the Bible and raise her voice in prayer for all
whom she loved. .And to-day those memories live
when a thousand busy scenes of after life lie dead.
And when old age comes on—if God should spare
me to be old—the memory of my mother's words
and her reverential prayers will be the brightest
of all the joys that shall light up the evening of
my life.
THE END.
Robert W. Woodruff
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